Castles of Steel - Lesbians Good, Imperialism Bad

You tried to calm down and clear your head. It wasn't working. The two of them were talking at you voices that started to sound angrier and angrier and you couldn't understand a single damn word except for sometimes you caught 'Aki' thrown in there. It didn't sound like they wanted to thank you for being there to help ensure the enlightened and civilized rule of the Akitsukuni Empire, either. You scrambled back, tearing your skirts even further as you tried to give yourself some space, some time, anything to keep from having to actually confront this. Oh Spirits.

Spirits. What if they meant to kill you? What if they meant to do worse? You tried to pull yourself to your feet but your head was still fuzzy and spinning from the alcohol. The pounding fear that you felt was even worse than the crowd. There you'd had others to worry about, people to be concerned for besides yourself. Now, you were alone and there was nothing but pure unadulterated fear that made your heart and head pound with the force of pulse. You tried to stand but the one with the shovel was keeping pace with you, looming over you with a look that chilled your heart and you scrabbled at the hilt of your sword with an energy born of panic.

The sword came half out before slipping in your grip. You reached to grab it again and pain exploded in your hand as your fingers found the blade instead. Thankfully, you somehow avoided losing a finger--nobody ever taught you to sharpen it, it was just assumed that men entered the academy knowing.

You didn't know what else to do. You screamed. There may have been words, you couldn't really tell.

The two men backed away a moment. You took a breath and screamed again, trying to contain the tears, but they were already running down your face. Fear and shock and pain easily overrode your sense of shame. Overhead, a window banged open and you heard a woman's voice shout something in Joseon--you weren't sure what, but it was directed at the men, who looked shocked that someone was suddenly intruding on the scene.

"Geunyeoleul tteona! Geunyeoleul naebeolyeodwo!"

Then there were footsteps clattering against the wooden boards of the sidewalk. The men bolted so fast it was like they were never there. Just you, alone, back against a wooden wall, skirt torn. You realized you were missing a boot and you weren't sure when it happened.

There was the sound of a whistle and running feet and a pair of men in the uniform of the Akitsukuni navy ran past, and you saw the armbands that marked them as part of the Tokkeitai, the naval military police. They were shouting in Akitsukuni and Joseon.

"Hey! Stop! Stop right there! Jungji! Geuman hae!" More feet sounded on the walkway and a third man was bending over your, firm hand gripping at your arm to help you to your feet.

You pulled away from him at first. Your hand left a bloody mark on his arm. It took a minute before you'd let him touch you and guide you to somewhere safe.


---

You arrived back at your cabin the next morning. You'd not slept last night, you couldn't. Everything, everything that had happened in the past few months seemed to collapse in on you at once. Hours had passed in a blur where you weren't sure where or when you were.

You remember begging a Tokkeitai officer not to write a report. To spare you the shame. You weren't sure if he did or not.

It was early morning now. The cabin had a lock on it, not for people but for water. Anyone on the other side could twist it open just as easily. It wasn't security.

You locked it just in case. It was hard to do with your bandaged fingers, but you had to manage. You did manage.

On your desk were letters which had been delivered sometime in the night. From Hideaki, from Aiko, from your mother. And another lying atop them from your cousin.

You skimmed it over. Based on your performance upholding the honour of the nation something something, you were being given command of (to give its full title) Motor Torpedo Boat No. 103. Your first command: eight guys in an armed lifeboat.

You crumbled the sheet up and threw it across the room. After the captain got wind of what had happened, he probably wouldn't let you out of your cabin.

You read the letters from your friends and family, but you couldn't bring yourself to respond yet.

---

You got a sealed letter from the Tokkeitai office two days later. The sort of burn-after-reading shit you see in spy stories. It was from an unnamed officer letting you know your honour was safe: nobody would tell a soul. They hadn't caught the men responsible, but they were hunting.

Your cousin still had no idea. You ate dinner with him twice this week. You thought maybe he was actually trying to be your friend now.

You still hadn't talked to Kenshin. You were consciously avoiding him as best you could. You were worried you'd say something, and he'd blame himself for leaving. He managed to corral you for a few words at breakfast a few times, but you managed to avoid talking about your night by teasing him about his cute, bookish new girlfriend, who seemed to be writing him constantly ("We're just friends! We're exchanging letters, that's all!" he had insisted). Sure, 'just exchanging letters'. That's a thing that happens.

The ship got underway. Two weeks passed. You wrote a letter to Aiko. She was a woman like you (though younger) and might understand better what had happened and why it had rattled you and so poured out your feelings about all of it to her in a long, rambling thing that would have given your mother (and your calligraphy teacher) conniptions. You ended with wishing that she was there because being the only woman on this ship (in this Navy) was starting to drive you mad. You managed to stop yourself from describing how badly you wanted to feel her arms around you and instead settled for telling her you that you thought of her as a dear friend and begged never to speak to anyone about what you told her. Especially Hideaki. Her reply assured you that she would never betray your trust and overflowed with sympathy. It helped a little.

You wrote a two sentence reply to your mother assuring her you were well.

You were actually grateful now, for the armed guard at your door. His name was Seaman First Class Shiraki and you eventually surmised he was picked for the position because he had zero interest in women, men, or anything but yelling at people and eating navy food. You caught him reading a manual on a signalling light once for pleasure. Somehow you got the feeling this man had been assembled in a naval yard, the same as the ship you rode in.

You were awoken by him one morning by a polite knock. You unlatched the door and he nodded politely.

"Ma'am. We're about to go to duty stations. The captain wanted you warned first."

You wanted to be annoyed at the captain's insistence on your fragility. You found yourself instead vaguely grateful, which was somehow worse.

The alarm sounded on deck. You came out in your uniform and headed to get briefed. It was short and to the point: a ship had been spotted, a Cathay gun-runner who had evaded port authorities just three days before, shooting up a tugboat which had tried to get in their way and killing six. It was running full steam, and you were going to catch it. You just had to be fast, because it was edging close to the waters of one of the small Lusania-Carvale holdings on the Cathay coast, and if they got there they were gone forever.

There'd be two boats going out today. 101 was commanded by a Lt. Sugiyama, who you'd shared maybe ten words with over the whole voyage. 101 would be making the actual boarding action (and therefore burdened with an armed boarding party in addition to the crew in the cramped boat), while 103 was tasked with keeping an eye on them and supporting as needed.

You made your way to your boat. It was just about 20 meters long, painted bright white with a blue line around the edge. "103" painted on the side in big blocky characters. Two men on the pom-pom, a helmsman, a free hand either watching the engine or holding a rifle, and two men to work the torpedoes and two on the Type 11, as needed. Plus you, that's nine.

You knew your immediate subordinate was Petty Officer Mikami, who was young and confident and cheerful even as he prepared to go to battle. You couldn't really remember the names of any of the others.

The little gun-running ship was just a black smear of coal smoke on the horizon. You presumed they had got a good look at it through the telescopes on the bridge. You had just enough time while they were fueling up to make some last minute preparations.