The Ghost of Razgriz
Commissioned by SheepReaper, Written by NonsensicalRants
Chapter 1:
Death and Rebirth
Kestrel felt the second missile bury into her starboard side, just near her nose. The tearing of her outer shell and the heat of the fires unleashed by the explosive force were such that they overwhelmed her usual stoic demeanor.
She groaned in pain; the sound of steel on steel, a cry heard by all the brave men she bore within and upon herself. She wailed for only a moment before she regained her composure. When she did, her perception of the going ons within her halls returned.
"Launch them out!" She heard Captain Andersen order.
"We can't!" she heard one of his men refuse. "The ship is listing to starboard. We're sinking fast."
Sinking? Was she sinking?
She was. It was happening so slowly that she barely felt the water flooding her lower levels. Still, now that she was focusing on it instead of the burning wound on her side, she recoiled. The brave, hard-working men in the lower decks flailed in their death throes. Many wept and called out for help; for some, their cries for help were answered as their brothers in arms rushed to their aid. More were rescued than abandoned, with many severely wounded needing to be carried by those less wounded upward to escape the rising water.
The speed of her sinking was a curse in that it prolonged the suffering of those who could not be saved. But it was a blessing in that those who could be saved had enough time to reach the upper decks.
"Continue with the launch!" She heard her captain's order.
What? Launching her angels? Under these conditions? It was far too dangerous.
"Take them up." He repeated his order.
Ah. The Captain was willing to take the risk because it was do or die. She and her cargo were already lost. He would be damned if he didn't at least try to save the Razgriz. Kestrel was with him, as always, and did her best to help with the plan.
She fought and fought against the onslaught of water filling her belly as Captain Andersen gave the command to abandon ship. It hurt, watching them leave her in her final moments. She never imagined the day would come when they would abandon her. She did not begrudge them the inflatable rafts, nor did she stop fighting her sinking in order to give them as much time as possible.
Her pilots escaped and catapulted into the air one after the next until all four of her angels were airborne. It was a far cry from the ninety she set off with. Still, they were the only survivors of her last encounter with the Scinfaxi: Aces, all of them, her guardian angels that had protected her on multiple occasions. This was all she could do to repay that unpayable debt.
The dark, inflatable rafts grew in number until they surrounded her like a field of debris, encircling her massive, broken bulk.
She was empty of all save for corpses. As strange as it was, she was almost happy for their company. Sinking to the bottom of the ocean alone would have been so much more terrible than with them joining her.
She held onto them tightly as her bow rose into the air. Her frame held against its weight, and thus, she didn't snap in two like most ships would.
Her loneliness was lessened when the survivors, most of her crew, saluted her from their rafts. Many of them openly wept as they said their goodbyes. She felt like an elderly grandmother on her deathbed, passing away while a loved one squeezed her hand gently.
If she had a mouth, she would have been smiling then.
The ocean took her. The circle of light above her grew darker, and the pressure of the water grew greater. At first, the water felt like a blanket wrapped around her, then like a cold hug, and finally, the hug became a vice grip. Soon, she was surrounded by pitch-black nothingness, and it felt like a mountain was crushing her. And that was when she faded.
The blackness remained, but the cold, crushing water was gone. Kestrel felt nothing save the relief of not feeling anything at all anymore. Then it all went white, blindingly so, and soon she felt things again.
Once, her steel body was completely rigid. Now, she felt the freedom to articulate and limbs with which to do so—a body made of flesh, bone, and sinew.
The steel that once clad her body was replaced by soft, impossibly smooth skin and strong muscles padded with soft fat and held together with taught tendons. She felt what were once pipes turned into all manner of new internal machinations. Water pipes turned into veins with hot blood pumping through them. The wastewater pipes and treatment facilities became new organs more suited to the task. Her chow hall and kitchen were now a stomach.
With a sharp double spike of momentary pain, her nuclear-powered engine began to beat in a one-two pattern. Thump thump went her new heart.
She was human now, surrounded by white light, floating in a white void. That white light slowly turned green, and the void she was surrounded by soon had mass. Mass and temperature, as a warm liquid surrounded her, all bright green. She rose, floating to the top like a buoy.
She broke the surface, coughing, sputtering, and gasping for her first breath. This battle with her lungs lasted several moments as she floundered in the shallow water.
"Whoa! What kind of ship is that?" She heard somebody say.
And then somebody else was in the water with her, splashing over to her with every step. And then, all of a sudden, Kestrel was being held by a beautiful pink-haired woman who cradled her to her impressive bosom. She shushed and consoled Kestrel.
"Hey, I know it can be traumatic. It's like that for all of us. All you need to do is let go and allow your new body to work on its own. You don't need to think about the breathing, or your heartbeat, or any of that. They work by themselves." The woman explained.
Kestrel did as the woman told her and stopped trying to control her body. She went limp, trying her best not to move, trying to return to the place of infinite peace and calm she had been in just moments ago. It worked. Her breathing steadied, her heart ceased to feel like a hammer banging against her hull, and the fear that gripped her vanished.
She opened her eyes again and looked at the pinkette, only to have double vision. There was what her eyes saw and what her mind saw. Her eyes saw a busty, beautiful young woman. Her mind saw something a heavy cruiser—a long one of a make she had never seen before, with many cranes and cables where canons ought to be. It bore a white flag with a large, red circle inside it.
"I'm Akashi. Who might you be?" The Heavy Cruiser asked.
"I am Kestrel." She told Akashi.
"Well, welcome to our fleet Kestrel. What a cute name. Like the bird? Let's get you dried, dressed, fed, and rested. Then we can debrief you. Just as soon as you feel situated." Akashi assured her.
Notes:
Thank you again to SheepReaper for commissioning this story.
Both Ace Combat and Kancolle, or similar games/anime, are entirely unknown fandoms to me and learning about them has been a lot of work. It didn't stop me from taking My Hero Academia commissions, Diablo commissions, or World of Warcraft commissions which were even more work to learn about, so I wasn't going to let it stop me here.
As with every fandom I write in, I see holes in the setting and feel the need to plug them.
I get that the ship girls are the reincarnated souls of actual sunk ships. What I didn't see was any mention of that reincarnation process. So, in my new headcanon and for this story, there is a facility with a spring of that green water used to instantly repair the ships. This is the place where the green liquid comes form. It regenerates slowly, hence why it's so expensive. And the reason it instantly heals the ship girls, is because its the actual stuff they're made out of. Born of. Their primordial ooze. It's naturally a top secret and only medical/repair ships and high-ranking officials know its location. It's the only idea that came to me.
It's either that or poor, normal girls just wake up one day with a ship girl quirk. Which would be interesting but doesn't fit.
Anyways, SheepReaper has already commissioned five additional chapters I'm currently working on. So, stay tuned.