The Provence of Growing Celebration

Honor. Duty. Pride.

It is a heavy mantle to bear when it has meaning, but I shoulder the burden without complaint. How can I do anything less? I was made to be the banner of my nation, a symbol of her might and prowess. How can I not answer to those expectations? I must be hard and uncompromising. I must be strong, without flaw or lack. If it leads to the others whispering behind my back, trading disparaging barbs and insults of my bearing? I will accept the cost. Indeed, I already have, many such times.

"She's such a frigid bitch. Would it kill her to unwind a little?"

But that does not mean I cannot feel, nor does it mean I cannot understand the emotions of others. If I could not, I would not see the pain in my sister's eyes.

"No... no! This can't be happening. This can't be real! He can't be gone! You're lying! You have to be lying!"

I... did not approve of their relationship. It was not proper. But I could not begrudge her happiness. Perhaps in doing so, I allowed my own weakness to affect my judgement. What should have been a small island of joy in this war of ours was swept barren by the enemy. To all our detriment. She had been strong. Perhaps not in the same manner as I was, but strong all the same. His passing had shattered her confidence and thoughts, a blow as mortal as any torpedo. And then there was... the other matter.

"What should I do? Without him... I don't think I can hide it forever. When she's born, everyone will know. And then... they will know too. They came for him, took him away because he was too canny, too clever. With her... I don't want to imagine it. Can I even keep her safe then?"

I am not ignorant. I know what we are, what we appear to be. In other branches, I have heard rumors of similar indiscretions. Perhaps that is to be expected. But for all the similarities we bear to those who forged us, we are not like them. What she bore should not have been possible. The matter of her conception ensured that she would be unique to all sides of the conflict. A valuable sign of what might come in the future. The worries of my sister were not without merit. And so I lent her my strength, guided her to the only path I could conceive. She did not resent me for it. But regret...

"Was I wrong to give her away? She's all I have left. Just thinking of her... how can I keep her safe when I couldn't keep him safe? Tell me sister, please."

A familiar pain. Yet subtly different. I knew the regret of loss and defeat. Hers was something deeper, visible to my eyes even as she threw herself into her duties and her rice bowl to distract herself, damping her sorrows the only way she knew how. Time passed as it did, grinding down the pain through self enforced isolation from her child. Days. Weeks. Months. Years. She began to smile again, but the vagaries of war are often unpredictable.

"Why?! I was told she would be kept away from the sea! Safe! Why is she here?! Where her father... where he...!"

It was her request to serve as a blade of her nation, our situation having worsened in the years that we could no longer refuse the willing. In the cruelest of ironies, it was none other than her true mother that had inspired her. To serve, to protect. Sister could not deny her, nor could she reveal the truth.

"I... I can't! How would she feel if she knew that I had sent her away before she could even take her first steps? That I abandoned her because I wasn't strong enough? I... I'm scared. Scared of what she might say and do. I will be the inspiration she believes in, I promise, but she can't know the truth. She mustn't. Please..."

It... was not my place to intervene this time, though my spirit rebelled against the notion. Once I had done so, hoping that she would heal in time. But I see that it was in error, the loss a festering sore that has only grown through time. I cannot send the young one away, nor can I break this trust. But she is young, untested. The war is cruel. So I shall do as I must. Her spirit is pure, and I must temper it against the reality that we face. I will be harsh, I cannot deny this, but I cannot give any less. She must hone her blade quickly, and gain the strength to stand on her own lest my sister be torn apart by loss once more. And if she were to break... I will accept the consequences that will surely befall me.

Upon the honor of the first carrier division and my namesake Kaga, I swear this.

This story is a collaborative effort between myself, Mashadarof402, lt_agn02, and Lord K. This Chapter was written by Mashadarof402