Chapter 2 – Echoes of a Shattered Past
"What… is this?"
Tirpitz stands on a quiet dock, sunlight warming her face as it dances across the water. The gentle waves shimmer, reflecting a sky full of promise. The dock is filled with her new comrades—Karlsruhe, Z23, and Z21. Their laughter and chatter create a symphony of youthful enthusiasm. They are all here for the same reason: to embark on their first true mission.
"Juhuu, we're finally going into the fight!" Karlsruhe laughs, her bright eyes shining with anticipation.
Next to her, Z23 nods. "I know, I can't wait to finally fight for our Fatherland! Z21 was awake all night because she was so excited!" she adds, causing the destroyer in question to blush bright red.
"T-that's not true at all, Nimi! Idiot! Dummkopf!" Z21 stammers, vehemently denying the accusation. Tirpitz looks at them with pride, feeling a surge of hope and excitement. The air is light, carrying the sweet scent of the sea and the promise of victory.
"This is it," Tirpitz says, her voice filled with optimism, causing the others to turn towards her. "Operation Nordwind is our chance to prove ourselves. To prove to the world that us Kansen will win against the Sirens, and that the Ironblood will never be broken!"
"Why… does this feel… so familiar? Who… am I?"
The Kansen around her nod in agreement, their faces glowing with shared anticipation. The promise of the future seems almost tangible, a golden light at the end of the tunnel.
"Our nation has held out for a year, waiting for hope. And then they made us! We are Kansen, and we are the hope they have been waiting for! Ironblood, follow me!"
As they step off the dock and start sailing across the seas, Tirpitz catches a glimpse of her reflection in the water. The face she sees is one that looks just like her—piercing blue eyes, shoulder-length white hair fluttering in the wind, and a pure white peaked cap resting gracefully atop her head.
But she doesn't recognize herself.
As that thought crosses her mind, her surroundings begin to crack like a mirror. The serenity of the open ocean dissolves into chaos. The once-gleaming sea is now a roiling tempest of fire and destruction. Explosions tear through the water, sending columns of smoke and debris skyward. Dodging a large, purple bolt of plasma, Tirpitz turns to face an unending armada of Siren battleships. Their dark, massive hulls tower over her like mountains over pebbles. With a frightened gasp, she returns fire with her eight main guns. A loud scream pierces the cacophony of battle, and she sees her comrades, once proud and confident, now struggling for survival. Their hulls are battered and scorched, and she sees Z23 holding her unconscious sister afloat.
Tirpitz's guns roar once more as she fights to hold the line. The deafening noise and flashing lights make it hard to think.
"I… remember."
How did it come to this?
"Stop… please…"
Operation Nordwind should have been a clean victory!
"I don't want to remember this…"
A single strike to push out the Sirens!
"Not again…"
The enemy can't be this strong!
"Make it stop…"
She can't disappoint her comrades!
"Make."
Her country!
"It."
Her sist—
"STOP!"
Once more reality splinters and cracks like a mirror, before reforming into another scene.
The merciless wind blows freezing rain into her face as she stands at the front of her hull. Dozens of human ships surround her. Yet she stands alone, her Kansen friends and comrades nowhere to be seen. Dark clouds loom over the sea, but the thunder she hears is not caused by them. As she gazes in the distance, she sees the shores of a lifeless beach. Waves upon waves of human soldiers disembark from tiny boats onto the wet sand, only to be mowed down by plasma that would not have even scratched a destroyer's paint.
A cold feeling of emptiness spreads inside her. She knew that Kansen were stronger than regular humans. Faster. More durable.
But she never realized just how vast the distance between them was.
As she watches hundreds of soldiers die on that cold, distant shore, something inside of her dies alongside them.
Days later, she watches the remaining soldiers board their transport ship after taking the island. Her gaze is drawn to a man whose uniform is different from an Ironblood's. An Eagle Union Sergeant climbs aboard the Ironblood vessel. As he turns around, their eyes meet for just a second.
The look in his eyes is one she recognizes.
Monday, March 4th, 1946
06:13
Kansen Dormitories, San Francisco
Tirpitz awoke with a start, her breath shallow as if she just surfaced from the deep, cold ocean. Her eyes snapped open to the darkness of her room, the faint outlines of the furniture made visible by a sun that had barely started to rise. For a moment she remained still, staring at the wooden ceiling above her, trying to ground herself in the present. As the pounding beat of her heart started to ebb, she started to make out more things. The faint ticking of a clock. The softness of her mattress. The smell of lavender on her sheets.
Yet the memories from before weren't letting her go so easily. The dock, the laughter of her comrades, the promise of victory, it all felt so real. And then… the blood, the fire, the empty eyes of the soldier. That look.
Tirpitz closed her eyes briefly, exhaling a slow, controlled breath. Why do these dreams never fade? No matter how many times she had them, the pain never dulled. She could feel the weight of it sitting heavily in her chest—a cold, gnawing emptiness that had settled there long ago.
Sitting up slowly she swung her legs over the edge of her bed, her bare feet touching the warm carped. She felt hollow, the silence of the room amplifying the unease in her mind.
Tirpitz glanced towards the large window across from her. It was still early, the faint light of dawn just beginning to spill over the horizon, casting a pale glow over the room. As the echoes of the past continue to swirl around in her mind, she steps towards the window and gazes out. The ocean outside seemed so peaceful, its quiet waves a soothing balm to her mind.
After a couple of minutes, she heads towards the bathroom. Her body moves automatically, falling into the routine she had perfected over the last two years.
The cool water she splashes onto her face brings her back fully into the present, the sensation helping to break through the last of the lingering fog in her mind. As she begins to brush her teeth, she stares at her reflection in the mirror—blue eyes, pale skin, white hair still slightly disheveled from sleep.
The face looking back at her was the same as the one earlier in the dream, and yet… this one she recognized. There was something different in her gaze now, something that was a far cry from the vibrant, hopeful expression she saw earlier. Her fingers trail absently over her reflection before averting her eyes, banishing that trail of thoughts in the process. She continues on with her routine, showering first before putting on her uniform.
As she puts the final touches on her white-and-red cape, a soft knock on the door interrupts her process. Tirpitz straightens, and a familiar mask descends over the features of her face. "Come in," she calls, her voice even and steady.
The door opens with just a small creak, and Z23 steps inside. Her expression is neutral, calm. But there was something in the eyes of the little destroyer as she looked at Tirpitz, something that has been there ever since Tirpitz came back from that fateful operation
"Good morning, Tirpitz," Z23 said, her voice respectful. "I'm here to escort you to breakfast."
Tirpitz nodded, finishing with her uniform before meeting Z23's gaze. "Thank you, Nimi. I'll be there in a moment."
Z23 hesitated, her eyes flicking to Tirpitz' for just a second longer than necessary before nodding, stepping back and retreating to the corridor. Tirpitz took one last glance at her reflection before following.
The walk to the mess hall was a quiet one, the familiar clacking of her boots the only sound that accompanied them. Z23 spoke lightly about the day's plans - routine supply checks, patrol routes, and an upcoming fleet exercise against the Eagle Union. Tirpitz listened, but her mind drifted, Nimi's voice bringing back this night's dream.
Operation Nordwind, she thought bitterly.
As they reached the mess hall, the sound of the other Kansen chatting and laughing filtered through the door, pulling her back to the present. She could hear their voices, light and full of life, as if nothing had ever changed. As if the world was still a place of hope and promise.
Tirpitz steeled herself before stepping inside, the mask of stoicism tightening just a little more than when it was just her and Z23. To them, she was their leader in the Pacific, the Iron Blood's symbol of strength and determination, at least as long as Bismarck was still busy in the Atlantic. She had a duty to uphold.
The mess hall was a wide, open space with large windows that looked out onto the larger bay area. The morning light shimmered over the water's surface, peaceful and calm, casting a golden hue inside. It was an idyllic scene—a perfect start to the day.
Inside, the Iron Blood Kansen sat at long tables, their voices low but filled with the usual small talk. For all the battles they had fought and the Siren ships they had sunk, the morning ritual of breakfast had a way of softening the hard edges of their lives. To an outsider, it would seem like any other group of friends sharing a meal.
Tirpitz entered quietly, her gaze briefly scanning the room before she moved to the food line. Z23 followed close behind her before slipping into a conversation with U-47, who had already settled at a nearby table. Tirpitz remained detached from their chatter, lost in her own thoughts as she picked her meal.
She bypassed most of the lighter fare, choosing instead a plate heavy with meat—sausages, smoked ham, and a thick slice of bread. The choice was instinctive. It suited her Iron Blood nature, something solid and sustaining. The rich, hearty flavors were one of the few things that always managed to lift her spirits, though she'd never tell any of the others.
Carrying her tray, she made her way to the table where Z23 and U-47 sat, along with a few of the others—Karlsruhe, Z21, and Z26. Their conversation was light, typical of the mornings when the weight of the day hadn't yet settled on their shoulders. They were talking about the weather, patrol schedules, news from back home, and general gossip.
Tirpitz sat down without saying much, the soft clink of her plate the only sound marking her arrival. She took a slow bite, the savory taste of the meat grounding her in the moment. Around her, the others continued their chatter, occasionally glancing her way but keeping the conversation flowing.
"Have you seen the new reports from the Sirens' movements?" Karlsruhe asked, her tone casual, but there was always an undercurrent of tension when speaking of the Sirens. "It looks like they've managed to scrape enough ships together to assault Gibraltar once more."
Z23 shrugged. "Any Siren ship that sinks attacking that bastion is one that won't be able to sink a merchant convoy. And if it happens to be the Royal Navy that has to take some collateral damage then that's even better for us."
Tirpitz remained silent, though her eyes flicked up at the mention of the Royal Navy. She continued to eat when Z26's voice, the newest destroyer just recently created, was heard.
"Why do we even dislike them?"
The table fell quiet. The question lingered in the air, as if no one had expected it—least of all Tirpitz. She wanted to brush the question off as foolish, but now that she thought about it, the more the question seemed valid. The Royal Navy Kansen, and by extension all of the Royal Navy, had always been their rivals, even if they've always been on the same side regarding the Sirens. But why?
Z23 was the first to break the silence. "Well… it's our shared history, isn't it? They've been our competition for supremacy at sea since the old days. And now, even if with the war we're on the same side, our factions have different visions for the future. That's why we don't particularly like them."
Karlsruhe chimed in, trying to lighten the moment. "It's not just about old grudges. They also follow that spoiled, uppity queen of theirs. They're monarchists."
The others murmured in agreement, but Tirpitz's mind still lingered on that question. While she hadn't expected a different answer, in fact it was the same answer she would have given, there was something deeper gnawing at her. How much of that animosity they had was real—and how much was just inherited from a time before any of them had been created?
"Our nations have always clashed, and even if we're currently fighting the same enemy the future may look different in a few years," Tirpitz finally replied, and the others seemed to straighten at the reminder that their leader was sitting amongst them.
Z26 seemed to let the matter drop, although her expression didn't seem to be completely satisfied with the answer she had been given. The conversation returned to lighter topics, but a shred of that previous tension remained, unspoken. The bonds they had with each other were clear, and their loyalty to the Iron Blood never wavered. But why did they harbor such a quiet, distant hostility toward a faction they had never personally fought against, yet personally fought alongside against a common enemy? The idea felt hollow now, less like a cause and more like an expectation they carried because they were told to.
She pushed the thought aside as she took another bite of her meal, feeling the others shift back into their normal rhythm. Her leadership wasn't questioned, and her authority was absolute—at least among the Iron Blood forces in the Pacific. They looked to her as their guide, just as they had looked to Bismarck in the Atlantic.
But the weight of that responsibility bore down on her every day. She had to lead. She had to be the stoic figure that everyone could rely on. There was no room for doubt, no space for the questions that gnawed at her in these quiet moments. The Iron Blood expected victory, and she would deliver it—whatever the cost.
As the conversation drifted back to trivial matters—maintenance schedules, minor adjustments to patrol routes—Tirpitz remained silent, finishing her meal in deliberate bites. The others respected her silence, as they always did. They knew that beneath her cold exterior, she cared deeply for them, even if she rarely showed it.
After breakfast, the sun climbed higher into the sky, casting a warm glow over the Kansen section of the base. Tirpitz slipped away from the mess hall, her presence unnoticed by the others as they continued with their routines.
The air outside was brisk, carrying the scent of salt and steel as she made her way to the shore. The bay stretched before her, its surface gently shifting under the light of day. She stood at the water's edge, just far enough that the waves lapped at the rocks below but couldn't reach her.
Her blue eyes were fixed on the horizon, past the pillars of that red, ruined bridge, where the water met the sky in a seamless line. To an outsider she would seem like a statue of a goddess, an imposing figure of calm, dressed in her immaculate uniform, her white cap still perched perfectly atop her head. But inside, the storm that had silenced after her dream raged once more.
Tirpitz drew in a slow breath, the cold air filling her lungs. She wanted to shake the feeling, to let the familiar rhythm of command and duty carry her away, as it always had before. But today, the dream clung to her, pulling her back into memories she couldn't escape.
The battlefield—the chaos, the destruction, the sound of waves crashing against steel—none of it had truly left her. Even now, standing by the calm sea, those echoes followed her like a ghost.
She thought of those soldiers in her dream—so fragile compared to her. Their lives, snuffed out in moments. She had stood by, powerless to change their fate, despite the immense power she wielded. It was a cruel irony. Designed as a perfect war machine, yet burdened with a heart that remembered each loss, each failure.
For a moment, Tirpitz allowed herself to feel it—to let the vulnerability seep through the cracks of her cold exterior. The waves crashed against the shore in steady rhythms, as if echoing the silent turmoil within her. She clenched her fists at her sides, feeling the tension in her body, but refusing to let the emotions reach her face. She couldn't afford to. Not now, not ever.
The others depended on her. Iron Blood depended on her. Bismarck depended on her. Her sister had her battles to fight in the Atlantic, even if they were slowly winding down, and thus Tirpitz had been given her own warfront, her own burdens to carry. There was no room for doubt. There was no room for weakness.
Yet, as the cold sea breeze washed over her, she allowed herself a single, fleeting wish.
Peace.
It felt foolish to even think about it, like wishing for something unattainable. They were built for war, created to fight until the enemy was no more. And yet, in this quiet moment, staring out towards the endless expanse of water, Tirpitz couldn't help but long for something different. A world where they didn't have to fight. A world where she didn't have to carry the weight of her comrades or the expectations of an entire nation.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she pushed the thought away. It was a fantasy, nothing more. There would be no peace for them, not as long as the Sirens threatened their existence..
Tirpitz's resolve hardened again, like cooling steel after being exposed to intense heat. She knew her mission, and she would see it through. Failure was simply not an option.
The sound of footsteps behind her drew her attention. She didn't turn, but she knew someone was approaching—probably Z23, ready to brief her on the day's tasks. The world of duty was pulling her back, as it always did.
With one last glance at the horizon, Tirpitz turned away from the sea and faced the day ahead. Whatever wishes for peace she had, they would remain unspoken. War was her reality, and she would continue to bear its weight, no matter how heavy it became.
Introducing our Deuteragonist, Tirpitz!
Also, as of 5 minutes ago this story is now cross-posted to AO3! If for some reason one of these websited is down and you really want to read this story, you now know where to look.