Disclaimer: I don't own Azur Lane

Chapter 1: The Offer

The day started like any other. He woke up, he showered and shaved, then he ate breakfast at the base mess hall. He noted that outdoors as he passed windows and moved outside to go to his posting that the weather looked to turn sour. Typical Washington. Not that it was important. The rain always passed to reveal blue skies. But in the moment, it made his travel to the intelligence office building a bit more rushed.

Once inside and as he advanced to his desk a new comrade walked down the aisle between cubicles with a borderline panicked expression who saluted and begged, "Please sir, tell me this isn't true."

A cursory reading left him with an ever so tasteful declaration.

FROM: EASTERN PACIFIC FLEET COMMAND

TO: STRATEGIST NO 15643

Assemble fleets seventy-two through seventy-nine to holding positions at coordinates: 48.24.30N 125.06.23W

At 0430 the 9 JUNE conduct a raid with the object of the destruction of the Puget Sound Naval Yard. Annihilate all resistance.

Secondary Objectives: Find…

He didn't need to read any further on this recently broken code before rendering his judgement. "You're right. This isn't true. It's a bogus message. Those Sirens do this all the time."

The junior codebreaker entreated his superior officer. "This seems way too serious to be a non-issue."

"You've been here in this division for what? A week? Look, the Sirens send fake messages all the time. That exact one has been sent at least a hundred time since I came here. They only ever update the date and time as some sort of prank. Nice catch though, as you were."

The ensign fresh from school snapped a salute of seeming relief before he walked away.

As the ensign left the superior heard some mumbled words clearly not meant for his ears that came together as something about not being taken seriously and how dare this guy just destroy hours of hard work.

It wasn't the superior's fault that the Sirens updated their codes daily and at times hourly. Even their low level meant-to-be-cracked codes were updated regularly. Regardless he wasn't sorry for the ensign, nothing like a good fake message to make a newbie codebreaker into a seasoned vet. He remembered how he was one himself a years ago.

The arrival at his desk heralded a trip down memory lane as it always does. The day he graduated university, the day he became an officer, the day he got promoted to his current rank of Lieutenant Junior Grade. But any vacation into nostalgia paled in comparison to his current task and passion of tackling the hardest of Siren cryptography. He understood that this effort wasn't for just one man but for whole teams and divisions nevertheless, he humored himself with imaginings of his work saving the world.

Not all shared his feelings. At times, his comrades complained of the conditions of their lot in life. But not him. He knew that even though the Sirens were an enigma in their years of being known to the peoples of Earth they had to try and unveil their secrets. He felt that if they couldn't handle the grind of codebreaking, they should transfer into some other branch of Azur Lane Naval Intelligence. Like those meat-head holier-than-thou infiltrators that found themselves out of a job come the end of the war between Azur Lane and Crimson Axis a few years ago.

He started his work, finding his codes exactly as he left it yesterday. This is to say, uncracked. But no matter; most Siren codes—even the high security ones—crumble eventually and contribute to the greatest of victories. Or so he was told. Propaganda admitting defeats was a truly rare occurrence and it never told the extent of a defeat. It always painted pictures of heroic soldiers and sailors holding the line and overcoming impossible odds and they were in a manner of speaking. But he knew the truth.

They were in a stalemate.

And the Sirens let it be that way.

While never explicitly stated in encoded messages talk around the office and command of Kitsap Naval Base was that the Sirens can charge in and take whatever they want, when ever they want. The world's newly "united" intelligence community had concluded this at about the same time. So, what are they waiting for? Rumors circulated like wildfire from other intelligence offices around the world. His personal favorite was from their new Iron Blood allies. A decent portion are apparently convinced that the Sirens are part of a conspiracy to protect the earth from something bigger and badder. Maybe they're the ones watching too many Hollywood movies.

His musings were interrupted by the unexpected source of a man clearing his throat and saying, "Lieutenant."

A swiveled chair revealed reason to stand and salute what was the base commander. Even though introductions were not necessary with the surprisingly affable commander, not to mention the lieutenant's talent at codebreaking ensuring acquaintance formality must be upheld.

"Captain Baxter, what can I do for you?"

"You need to come with me right now. Some vice admiral was waiting in my office this morning and immediately ordered me to retrieve you. Talk about creepy." After being silent for a moment the captain smiled and added jovially, "You haven't done anything wrong have you?"

The lieutenant caught the captain's jest as they started walking. "Not that I know of sir. Or at least nothing that I would admit unless in interrogation," he joked back, "What's this about?"

"I uhhhh well…. I don't know."

A silence pervaded the space between the two walking men for a moment as things got serious.

The captain let out a brief and mirthless chuckle and lamented, "I go up the ranks for twenty-five years and I'm still getting non-answers to questions. But I guess you'll find out soon enough."

Leaving the building revealed that the threatening weather was unchanged and to any hum-drum sailor it may be seen as a bad omen. For once, the lieutenant felt he might agree despite his outwardly more logical predisposition.

But the base continued apace with sailors and marines alike going about their duties. They were more tense than usual, despite obvious attempts to act natural. Something was going on. And the codebreaker didn't like it. This foreboding continued all the way into the command center to their destination, Captain Baxter's office.

The door marked, "Base Commander," had heavy blinds pulled down and the reflection in the glass revealed the lieutenants own face. He inspected himself briefly and the captain obliged. Nothing out of place. He was still the green-eyed, brown-haired, clean-shaven but otherwise mostly unremarkable guy that greeted him this morning. "Okay, let's do this."

The captain opened the door and both stepped in. The vice admiral had helped himself to the base commander's chair and was occupying himself by inspecting the base out of the window. But the opening and closing of the door gained his attention.

Baxter saluted and stated stiffly, "Here is the man you ordered sir."

This vice admiral seemed normal at a glance. The sharp eyes of a warrior and the graying hair of an experienced naval officer weren't suspect. But there was one thing that the codebreaker picked up on immediately which Captain Baxter failed to mention in their journey. No name was visible anywhere on the admiral's uniform. This was instantly suspicious. Even he had his name on his uniform and he worked on cracking top-secret codes for a living.

Admiral Anonymous was quick and only permitted minimal pleasantries. "Thank you, captain, you may resume your duties."

He directed his attention to the lieutenant and ordered, "Follow me." And he promptly stood up from his seat to cross the room to the door. He didn't even ask for or acknowledge the lieutenant's name. This man was up to something, the lieutenant could feel it.

As he passed both men Captain Baxter and the lieutenant shared a glance of mutual feeling that crossed any boundary presented by difference in age or station. This was the unease of not knowing. The captain's nod sent the lieutenant out the door after the nameless admiral.

They traversed the building in a direction that was unfamiliar to the codebreaker and the lieutenant noted less and less people. Finally, when they were alone, he spoke up to ask what this was all about.

"I can't tell you that."

The lieutenant was getting a bit impatient with being held in ignorance, but he made sure to not sound irritated as he replied, "Well, what can you tell me?"

"You're getting a new assignment. I don't know more."

His head started to spin at the possibilities. Briefly a juvenile side of him imagined up the most ridiculous flights of fancy. Was he getting a command? Would he be working closer to the front lines? Is this his chance for being a war hero? But, then the more rational side of his mind kicked in, smashing any stupid ideas. He's probably just being assigned to a new location to do more of the same. He was fine with this. He was alone and far away from home as it is so what was another thousand miles or so?

Wait did he just say he didn't know more? That definitely didn't bode well, assuming the admiral wasn't lying.

The lieutenant set aside questions of the admiral's integrity but still with his other conclusion reached in his head they proceeded in silence because all that could be said was said.

An approaching door marked as a conference room was attended by a group of marines. Two groups specifically and neither from the Eagle Union. Stone faced warriors of the Royal Marines and Sakura Empire guarded both ways in the hall. That explained some of the bases earlier apprehension and their presence hinted to something so ridiculous that the codebreaker figured that it just might be true. It looked like the highest commands of the world or at least someone really high up in those commands have business with him.

The sakura marine leading the two details held up his hand to stop the approaching duo. In an accent that demonstrated familiarity with English he ordered feet apart and arms out.

The lieutenant was searched for any weapons. If he were honest with himself, he would admit that focusing on the fact that he was being searched like some criminal wasn't helping him fight down any of the nervousness he felt for the impending meeting. He hoped against hope that the meeting's attendants' identities weren't who he feared they might be.

With the search completed satisfactorily the marine stepped aside and the vice admiral spoke in his most gentle and reassuring manner yet, which wasn't that much. "Go on, they're waiting for you."

The lieutenant wiped his hands on his pants to remove the built up sweat and reached for the door handle, opening it, entering, and closing it in succession.

At the far end of the room huddled over a large table with a few files between them were two figures that any citizen of any nation in Azur Lane or the Crimson Axis would easily recognize.

Never in his career or even his life had he snapped a salute so crisp that he thought that any harder would mean karate chopping his forehead like an idiot. Such decorum was fitting for Axis Chairwoman Eriko Hara and Supreme Commander Grayson Roscoe. Both figures returned his salute if for no other reason than to acknowledge the picture-perfect gesture given by the lieutenant. The briefest of interludes passed as both parties relaxed which allowed the lieutenant to analyze their appearances.

Eriko Hara in the propaganda of the Crimson axis was presented as a no non-sense figurehead that exuded authority as her second nature. Her stern brown eyes stood in contrast to the rounded features of her face framed by shoulder length straight black hair. The lieutenant had to admit that she wasn't as tall—or quite as young—as the posters or televised addresses presented her to be and a cursory glance revealed that she held a katana on one of her hips. This was no doubt a lasting tradition of sakura officers that somehow didn't stop with the Crimson Axis's original military defeat nearly eighty years ago. He wagered she knew how to use it too. This was not a woman to be trifled with because of her tactical expertise in warfare that made her a legend feared and respected by all.

Grayson Roscoe was presented quite a bit differently than his axis counterpart. He was probably twenty years older than the middle-aged woman and he appeared almost exactly as his posters or physical appearances portrayed him. His white hair was in a haircut that was a length more fitting for officers not in frontline duty and was a match for his sky-blue eyes. The occasional wrinkle on his face and bushy mustache certainly helped his grandfatherly portrayal in the media. His style of leadership and behavior was much more, "we can do this," as opposed to Hara's, "let's do this." It was well known that the greatest strength of the old Royal Navy officer was his skill at delegation, which made him the soundest choice as supreme commander in a strategic sense. In layman's terms his talent was finding and maximizing talent.

The lieutenant stood there in silence and a measure of awe awaiting the words of the superior officers, who were not making this any easier for him by making the first move. Seeing no other way out he spoke first with noticeable uncertainty. "I was sent for to learn of a reassignment?"

His uncertainty made Roscoe chuckle a bit that helped put the lieutenant more at ease. "Yes of course leftenant," then he added on, "and a significant one too. So please come over here and take a seat and we'll get started on filling you in on the details."

The lieutenant shuffled to the Supreme Commander and Chairwoman stiffly. As he came close, he scolded himself aloud, "Where are my manners? As you probably already know my name is…"

Chairwoman Hara cut him off with her first words to him, "Yes we do know and as you will soon find out your name will no longer be relevant."

The lieutenant fixed her with a quizzical look as they all sat, and he dismissed her rudeness without any further fanfare, not that he could do otherwise even if he wanted to. Before he could come up with any response to her, she continued. "Lieutenant as you have probably guessed your reassignment is a major thing for the two of us," gesturing to the supreme commander, "to come to you personally." She paused for a moment awaiting a response. The young officer nodded. "Your reassignment is completely optional given it's nature so if we are to continue with this discussion we need to know from if you want to proceed."

The lieutenant was curious to test the waters so as non-confrontationally as possible he responded, "What happens if I say yes now only to refuse later?"

The grandfatherly demeanor of Roscoe dropped in an instant and he stated with a face and voice of steel, "You will be imprisoned, and an accident will be arranged to silence you permanently. This is a serious matter, leftenant, concerning not only the security of both major factions but quite easily the future of mankind as we know it. Your duties will be above top secret and you will be responding directly to the two of us, independent of any nation's command structure."

Fear gripped the young man's heart. "Why me? I'm only twenty-five for god's sake. Surely there has to be someone that fits the bill of whatever you two are looking for."

Hara's hand dragged down her face and she looked and felt so much older for a second. "You think that you are the first that we have approached? Not so. While you might not be our first pick you have the right qualifications given the circumstances that we will speak of if you accept."

She reached out for a file and withdrew a paper from one that she read off aloud. "Exempted from active frontline service to go to university you studied mathematics and was recruited part of the way through your studies. At the behest of your recruiter, you added on cyberwarfare. You graduated in the top five percent of your class and while you studied you showed to your superiors an expertise at information gathering by observation, not to mention a talent for electronics. Your file also says you are a crack shot with a pistol and passable in leadership roles. In short you're not perfect but you'll do."

"I could have told you that," deadpanned the lieutenant.

Commander Roscoe changed the subject. "What do you know of the state of the war?"

The lieutenant rolled with it, "I know that things aren't going as well as the propaganda machines of the world would have the average citizen believe. I know by virtue of my job that the Sirens are letting us squirm. They seem to let us have victories but whenever anything larger than the size of a skirmish happens, they crush us. God rest those souls who have departed us. It certainly doesn't help that their technology is leagues beyond our own. I mean, just a few of them—the humanoid ones—can absolutely decimate armadas of ships with full crews."

"What if I told you that only about half of what you said is true? It's true that the state of things is not nearly as rosy as Uncle Sam would have you believe but things are not quite as hopeless as you think they are," rebutted the old sailor.

The lieutenant did a very good impression of a fish as his mouth opened and closed before squeezing out, "How?"

"I'll only tell you if you agree."

The silence of the Chairwoman and the Supreme Commander let the bewildered young man retreat into his mind. He cursed them, damned them, for playing to his natural curiosity. He knew the saying, "curiosity killed the cat," but he knew that he would never be able to let go of what has been said. He battled in his mind between accepting and declining for what was apparently time enough to try the superiors' patience.

Roscoe spoke again, "I won't humor you by saying that you are humanity's last hope, because you are not, but us coming here to speak with you is a sure sign that things are coming down to the wire. So, in a time like this you should ask yourself, 'What do I believe in?'"

What did he believe in? All his life he took the path of least resistance but was cursed to be naturally competent and thus, attention grabbing. Cowardice turned his indecisive high-school graduate self to college to avoid compulsive military service. He spent extra time in university to avoid the military but when the writing on the wall told him he could not escape he talked to a navy recruiter to avoid the marines. His interests happened to coincide with intelligence and codebreaking so here he found himself to his begrudgingly admitted delight. After all, he believed that decisions should be followed by dedication. He peered deeper within himself and remembered the wisest words he ever heard; words that came from the mouth of his mother, "Everything happens for a reason." He loved his family and friends. He loved his home. He loved it's ideals of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. He remembered that he promised himself that he would become a man that kid him could look up to. He had broken that promise for far too long, the time to change was now. He made his decision.

"Ok. I'll do it. What do I have to do?"

Both Hara and Roscoe smiled. But it was Hara that spoke first. "I admit that I was very doubtful that you would accept. Thank you." And she bent at the waist indicating gratitude and relaxed out of the initially presented hardened persona.

Roscoe followed on, "My boy, I'm in agreement with the chairwoman. Thank you very much for your willingness. But let us get on with it then." And he looked to Hara as if she was decided upon to explain the next part.

"The supreme commander mentioned earlier that about half of what you said is true and I'll explain why before we explain what your mission is to be.

You were correct in saying that things are toned down for the populace and that we aren't winning per se. You were also correct about the skirmishes versus larger battles and that humanoid sirens are far beyond the capabilities of manned ships. The other points about the superiority of technology is only somewhat right and the 'squirming' is quite on purpose."

The lieutenant acknowledged this new information with another nod, then he came up with a response to the chairwoman, "I suppose the explanations as to why is above my pay grade?"

"Right you are, so Roscoe and I gave some orders and sought out a signature or two in the Eagle Union Navy to fix that. Congratulations." She handed the lieutenant a sliver cluster pin and triple barred epaulets showing a three-rank promotion to full commander.

The newly minted commander was absolutely stunned and so indicated with wide eyes and a muttered, "I've gotta be the youngest commander ever."

Roscoe's smile grew larger, his grandfather persona returned, and he decided that now was an opportune moment to prod the commander. "Congratulations Commander. How to you feel?"

"Like this isn't real. I would normally add on a comment saying there has to be a catch to this, but I already know that there's one, so what's going on?" and he turned back to Hara who proceeded onward.

"Fifteen years ago, the Siren's made first contact separately with several governments of Earth. The list is about seven or eight countries long, but the main ones were the Sakura Empire, your Eagle Union, the United Kingdom, and the Iron Blood. The Siren's brought with them incredible leaps and bounds to our understanding of our place in the universe but they saw something that they would exploit. As you well know about the nearly ninety-year division between the Crimson Axis and Azur Lane presented them an opportunity. For what? We don't know. But separately they temped each country with a technology beyond our comprehension. One that would be taken advantage of by all it was offered to."

She nodded to Roscoe who produced a locked briefcase seemingly out of nowhere. Commander counted as Roscoe inputted a whopping twenty-digit passcode to open the case which unlatched with a clank suggesting sophisticated inner mechanisms. This piqued Commander's interest like no other and the case was set before him. Roscoe paused for self-satisfying dramatic effect and opened the case.

The first crack of the case allowed a brilliant blue glow into the room which grew as the case opened wider. Fully open it revealed a semi-transparent cube that looked to be a tesseract in structure. It was about four inches long on each side and as surmised earlier gave off the ethereal blue glow.

Roscoe elaborated, "This is a wisdom cube. We don't know much of it's construction or it's full potential but I'll repeat to you what the Sirens told us. A wisdom cube allows the physical manifestation of one's will. It is an incredible source of power that is undying and as the name suggests it is wise and has a will of it's own, but it is not technically alive nor sentient. The Sirens told us of some ways that these cubes can be used and no, they can't use willpower to do something like say, give someone superpowers. The main way to use these that they showed us is…um… well…" The supreme commander stalled not knowing how to proceed with his explanation. But after a moment he found his way, "What do you know about your naval history?"

Commander's eyebrows scrunched together, and he said, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You see, the Sirens showed us how to manipulate the wisdom cubes into manifesting warships of bygone eras. All these ships saw action in the Second World War eighty years ago or at least are attached to that era. Apparently, the cubes chose to manifest them because the collective will of humanity pushes them in that direction."

"Why ships? Not that I have anything against them but is that all the cubes 'will' into existence?"

Hara answered this question, "That's the control we have over the process. We tried to apply the technique to other vehicles but with no success. We have no idea why. But that isn't all about the wisdom cubes; along with each ship they manifest a living breathing avatar. All these avatars are female, and they are mostly human in appearance, some have traits of animals like foxes or dogs that are more common in the Sakura Navy, and others invoke vampires or other sources of literature, but most of them look like normal humans, colorful hair and erm... 'generous proportions' notwithstanding. In my language we call them, 'Kansen,' or, 'Ship Girls,' in your tongue."

Commander opted to ignore the philosophical dilemma of artificially created life for now with a question of their capabilities, "What is their connection to their ships?"

"The Kansen I've met refer to their ships as their hulls and can control them as easy as a normal human can walk. They also say it's a part of them and I've seen them transform their hulls into miniature versions that are portable on their person, at will. This part of them is called, 'rigging,' and it makes them much more agile in combat but with compromise in firepower and armor. Granted their riggings' firepower is enough to still pose a threat to a ship with sustained fire it isn't so great as their full-sized hulls and they can still take a beating that would turn you or I into paste. But still, they are what is holding the line, and I'm sure that the majority of the warship movements that you are aware of and think are manned vessels are in reality manned by Kansen. Their effectiveness in combat makes traditional warships obsolete."

"If ship girls are so effective why haven't they replaced normal warships?"

Roscoe took his cue, "We do not have enough wisdom cubes to make navies of thousands of ships like in World War II. There are only a couple hundred ship girls around the whole world. And they are spread thinly as it is, thus the 'squirming' is hoping to preserve their numbers and bide our time for a better strategic position. But anyway, that is the technology we have from the Sirens, our weapons are still lacking compared to their energy weapons, but we hope to close the gap soon. This leaves us with your mission."

Commander sat up a bit straighter and was starting to get excited. Come to think of it, this was the first time he felt something positive all day.

"The Ship Girls are cursed with being too effective. Any time we concentrate them into a sizable force the Sirens roll out the heavy hitters. Did you know that in the two years we have been engaging Sirens we have been close to victory thrice because of these women? Every time we should have won. Every time," Roscoe repeated for emphasis, then with growing anger in his voice and through clenched teeth he said, "But every time at the moment before our victory from the depths emerges some giant mechanical monstrosity that destroys everything we have fought and died for. They always surprise us and make counter attacks haphazard at best. We adapt for the next decisive battle, but they adapt faster, and the bodies of people and ship girls are piling up."

Roscoe sighed and laughed at the ridiculousness of his next statement. "We get destroyed by sea-monsters, like from the god-damned old testament or from cooky folk tales." And he fell silent.

Hara spoke next, "This is where you come in. As the officer in charge of Operation Rumor Mill your objective is to hunt down and destroy these siren superweapons wherever they may be by any means you can think of. You are to fight them on humanity's terms."

Commander's mind was boggled. Living ships? For some odd reason he could handle that. But a Leviathan or a Kraken or heaven forbid, Cthulhu? That was a bit too far for him. Oh. And his job was to lead from the front. But then it hit him, "Why do you need a code breaker? Wouldn't a junior officer already in a fleet with you know—sailing experience—be better?"

Hara complimented him, "You're pretty on it. Your job other than the obvious leading is to operate a one-man codebreaking and intelligence operation and serve as the cyberwarfare officer in support of the single Kansen under your command. So, your competence as a sailor is unimportant. And before we tell you who this Kansen is, we need to tell you something else important to your mission."

"What is it?"

At this point both Hara and Roscoe looked down and hesitated. Commander noted that this hesitation wasn't for any sort of effect, dramatic or otherwise, but it was as if they were going to tell him someone died and didn't want to share who, or they were waiting for the other to start talking first.

Roscoe relented and picked up where Hara left off. "Effective your acceptance of this mission you died, rather you died immediately following your promotion." Dear god, he was right. "But not only are you dead any record of your existence has been erased. You are a ghost, a ghost with no name. Your mother officially had only two children, you never went to school, and you never enlisted in the navy. You have ceased to exist. That is why we interrupted your introduction. Your name is now just, 'Commander'."

It took a moment for this to sink in. But when it did darkness gripped his soul. His whole life up to now was for nothing? His family, his friends, him? Gone. He wanted to cry and mourn his un-life but somehow forced himself to keep it together. All he had left now was his mission. Maybe his dying would earn him another promotion he thought, trying to console himself in a rather pithy attempt at humor.

Hara wiped a tear from her eye and said, "I'm so sorry we had to do this to you. This isn't the first time that an operation like this is underway. Your predecessor ultimately wasn't successful and didn't survive because of his lack of secrecy and subtlety. So, we had to find a replacement unknown to the Sirens, thus taking your name and only giving you one permanent ship. But we know that you can't hope to take down kaiju alone, so you have also been commissioned an officer in all of the major navies of Azur Lane and Crimson Axis. Same rank though. Furthermore, you have this."

She withdrew another paper from the same file from earlier and signed it with a fountain pen. She passed the paper to Roscoe who did the same and then passed it to Commander, who read it.

In multiple languages that he recognized as the languages of the main players on Earth was written: "By the presentation of this document the possessor has the authority to commandeer any military unit or commodity for extended periods of time based on necessity." It said a bit more about duration and other conditions, but it was basically a document that gave Commander authority greater than admirals under certain conditions.

"You can build fleets as you see fit with this Writ of Commandeering. You will have access to any port of Kansen around the world for you to use in your hunt. Use them, they will be invaluable in such matters. And if deployed well they can and will sink even these siren kaiju. Just return them after you are done. Otherwise, the whole front will suffer."

Roscoe finally stepped in to complete the lengthy explanation of all this, by stating, "Your mission is so secret not even other ship girl commanders know of your existence or your mission. Keeping it that way, will be your greatest boon. Speed and subtlety are your new best friends. Otherwise, this whole effort will go up in smoke and eventually things will be as bad as you thought walking in today. Like I said before you are responsible directly to us, not to any other military authority and as of right now you have the authority to act as you see fit for the completion of your mission, you may even take side missions to throw off suspicions. Field officers know of the Writ of Commandeering and there are only a handful ever made. But abuse this and it will get taken away and you will be on your own. Also, we shall point you in the right direction for the first reports of a superweapon sighting but after that, you are on your own. Good luck and god speed."

"What ship am I in command of?" inquired Commander numbly.

Chairwoman Hara let out a ghost of a grin. "You'll like her. She's from the Eagle Union Navy like you. Her name is Nashville."

Hey you. Yes, you. I got some stuff to say before you go. Wow, that was quite the set up. Sorry if all the back and forth was a bit boring, I had to get it out of the way somehow. You know, world building. Plus, it would be weird if the main character were omniscient. Anyways, thanks for getting to the end of this chapter. I look forward to seeing where this story will go and taking a crack at my first fanfiction. While this first chapter is pretty tame I intend to be exploring some adult themes later on so, hence the rating. I'll also explain why I chose an OC, Nashville, over the already excellent cast of Kansen next chapter. Anyway, there is one more thing that I want to talk about before you can go about your day.

In late 1944 the USS Nashville was steaming as part of the American fleet in the greater Philippine Campaign and while on route to support a planned landing site in the mid-afternoon of December 13 she was struck amidships by a kamikaze. 133 men died. 190 were wounded. This was over a third of the crew of 868. Nearly sixty military citations would be made for heroism on part of members of the crew as they acted to save their shipmates and ship in the ensuing flame and exploding ammunition. They succeeded. Nashville survived the war.

This first chapter comes out on the 76th anniversary of this tragedy. Please take a moment to ponder the service of all who have served their country. Please also spare some time in reverence for those who paid the ultimate price.

I know that as of right now you have little connection to any of these characters, least of all Nashville, but I felt that this needed to be said once I noticed the approaching date that coincided with the book I read about her. This is going to be one wild ride. I hope you'll be here with me the whole way.

By the way, the book I just mentioned is called Humble Heroes How the USS Nashville CL43 Fought WWII. It's written by Steven George Bustin, whose father was a sailor aboard the titular vessel. Good book. The only issue I noticed was that it got the date the Prince of Wales and Repulse sunk incorrect, but it was wrong in such a way that it was probably an editing error.

I don't intend to make author's notes this long often so thanks for sitting through it. Anyways take care, new friend. If you are having a bad day, I hope it gets better and if you are having a good day, I hope it gets even better.