Part 29
Fubuki hummed a tuneless little song as she sailed slow circles around the task force. It warmed her heart to see Jersey-Sempai take such doting care on little White. The big battleship might be rough, and loud, and brash, and course, and profane, but… but that wasn't what really mattered. She was a true lady of war, the kind of warship all destroyers should look up to!
And then… Jersey-Sempai shot her a look. A very confused, slightly unhappy look. Fubuki tilted her head in confusion, then… then she realized she'd been staring at the battered battleship for far longer than a destroyer had any right to!
And probably with a silly lovestruck look on her face too! Silly Fubuki! The special-type destroyer let out a little gasp and looked away so fast her ponytail whipped around to slap her on the neck.
"S-sorry, Sempai," she mumbled, glancing down at her feet as she steamed away, angling towards where Kirishima was bent over her notebook, scribbling furiously.
Fubuki smiled, she'd spent months with just Naka and Yuudachi for company, and then those Americans came along. Between the hyperactive destroyers, the minute carrier who broke
every rule of grace and decorum, and a battleship who behaved like an overgrown destroyer, Fubuki could feel her sanity slipping away from her bit by bit.
But Kirishima, she was the calm in the storm, the eye of this typhoon of un-ladylike ships. During the War—the first war that was—Kirishima scored higher than any other ship. She was a calm, disciplined ship, a rock to cling to in the storm of Kongou and the Americans.
"H-hey, Kirishima-san," said Fubuki, pulling up abreast of the battleship as she wrung her scarf with her hands. "Are you-" she gasped.
The battleship's face was glowing beet red, and her fingers were stained black with graphite dust as she furiously scribbled in her notebook. Her eyes frantically darted across the pages like Shimikaze doing laps.
"K-Kirishima-san?"
"Huh?" The battleship suddenly stood bolt upright, her pencil bouncing off her notebook and disappearing into the chilly Arctic sea. "What?" she glanced around, her eyes locked on the horizon so she utterly overlooked the short destroyer sailing right next to her. "Oh, Fubuki-Chan," the battleship adjusted her glasses, offering a painfully forced smile.
Fubuki gulped, her hands frozen in place around her scarf. "K-Kirishima-san? Are you okay?" she stammered.
Kirishima nodded. "Kirishima is…" she took a deep breath, shaking her head as she righted herself. "I'm alright."
Fubuki raised her eyebrow experimentally.
Kirishima sighed, taking off her glasses and wiping them clean with her billowing sleeve. For a few seconds, the fast battleship was silent except for the gentle swish of silk against glass.
"K-Kirishima-san?"
"Do you know how I died?" said the battleship, slipping her glasses back on with a single elegant gesture. "The first time, I mean."
Fubuki silently shook her head.
"It was the battle of Guadalcanal.. November 13th, 1942," the battleship paused, closing her eyes as she took in a breath, "Seventy-three years ago to the day."
"It was fifty-nine minutes to midnight," Kirishima's eyes slackened, her gaze hovering somewhere in the distance as she began her story. "I sailed into Ironbottom sound intent on shelling the American Marines… but little did I know the Americans were steaming straight towards us."
"We spotted one battleship, Atago and I," continued Kirishima. "We lit her up with our searchlights, pouring our shells into her. We set her ablaze, we knocked out her guns… We did everything short of outright sinking her."
The battleship scoffed. "We thought we'd had the high ground… that we
owned the night," said Kirishima, "How foolish we were. One American ship, a ghost… an unearthly specter of the night had closed to five-thousand-eight hundred yards without a
soul knowing. And then…" Kirishima pivoted to lock eyes on the destroyer. "Midnight."
"When the clock struck twelve, sixteen inch shells from the
Washington tore into me with the best accuracy I'd ever seen," said Kirishima. "She tore me to shreds and got out without so much as a scratch on her paint."
Fubuki gulped, letting out the tiniest "oh my" she'd ever spoken.
"It was…" the fast battleship sucked in a breath of chilly air, holding her head high as a smile crept across her face, "It was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen… such grace, such poise in battle…" she blushed, pursing her lips for a moment to gather her thoughts. "It was beautiful."
Fubuki let out a low sigh, her head sagging down to rest in her hands. Why was it always the Kongou sisters…
"Yo!" Jersey barked, her booming American voice echoing across the water, "Listen up, just got news from Sasebo. They, uh…" she was
grinning a toothy smile stretching from ear to ear on her bloody face, "They summoned another girl."
"Oh, really?" said Johnston.
"Who who!" demanded Hoel.
"Is it, like, someone we know?" asked Yuudachi.
"'Depends," said Jersey, that demented smile still stubbornly fixed on her face. "The name 'Arizona' ring any bells?"
"Oh fuuuuuuuuuuuuck," deadpanned Tenryuu.
—|—|—
Gale's boots padded against the thick carpeting lining the floor, her footsteps almost muffled into oblivion. "So yeah," she said, waving at the barren walls, "This is the shipgirl dormitory."
Wash nodded, her head tilting just so as she made a mental note of that fact in her log. The battleship hadn't said a word, other than the occasional polite courtesy, since the two women had left the dining hall. She just silently watched, recorded, and… and walked.
And did she
walk. Each step sent those broad hips of hers swinging to and fro… she
had to know she was doing it, right? How could she
not know!
"It's quite large," said the battleship, her tone warm, but even as she inspected the rows of mostly vacant rooms.
"Um, yeah," said Gale, praying Wash hadn't caught her staring. "We didn't expect it to be so hard to summon ship gir- er… ship… spirits." The yeoman winced. She'd almost called Wash a girl. She was most
emphatically a woman! A lady even! "And the ones we do have like to room together."
"Hmm?" Wash raised one slender eyebrow, her hand resting on her hip as she waited for Gale to continue.
"The, uh, the taffies all have their own rooms," said Gale, nodding to the rows of doors marked with each girl's name and hull number. "But they usually sleep in White's room. In like…" Gale held her hands out in a rough approximation of three destroyers, one destroyer escort, and one escort carrier all dogpiled atop one another, "a big puddle."
Wash smiled, her teeth flashing in the light as she let out a demure little laugh. "That… that sounds adorable."
"Oh, Johnston hates when we say that," said Gale, "But yes. It really is."
Wash let out another laugh, a laugh that quickly segued into a barely-controlled yawn. The battleship held a hand to her mouth, stifling the worst of the noise. "Mmm.. sorry," she said, offering a shrug and a slight smile, "that was purely because of the hour."
"What?" said Gale, "Oh… oh yeah, of course. I'll show you to your room," she said. She padded further down the hall, fumbling with the key ring in the pocket of her utilities, "I'll just uh…"
She stopped, eyeing up the battleship's outfit. "I'm… guessing you don't want to sleep in that."
"Ideally, no," sighed the battleship, tugging at the navy blue neckerchief hanging around her sailor top.
"Why don't you borrow some of my stuff?" said Gale, biting her tongue just a second to late to keep that sentence from slipping out. Why did she say that? Why? WHY!
"That's very kind," said Wash, giving Gale a warm smile, "Thank you."
Gale offered a souless, toothy smile in return. Wash's figure? In her clothes? She was going to regret this. Oh, was she going to regret this…
—|—|—
"Ha ha, Land ho!" Johnston waved excitedly at the tiny green blob filling the horizon, her feathers whipping around as her whole body all but vibrated in sheer enticement. "Land ho, we made it!"
"Hear that, kiddo?" Jersey pulled alongside White, wincing as the exhausted aircraft carrier almost tripped over her own feet. "That's Hokkaido. You did it, kiddo."
White gave a weak smile, her chest heaving as she drew down ragged breath, the air rasping across her parched vocal chords like gravel. Her stacks belched a puff of smoke, then nothing at all as she gave her pathetically over stressed boilers a long-deserved break.
The little carrier rocked on her feet, barely keeping herself standing as her head lolled up to stare at Jersey. "Did- did I-"
"You did good, kiddo," said Jersey, shushing her with a hand to the poor girl's chapped lips. "You did good."
"T-thanks," panted the carrier, her head falling against Jersey's charred hip, making the battleship wince ever so slightly. "'m… tired."
"It's okay," said Jersey, waving her hand in the air to signal her convoy to stop and form a defensive line. "It's okay, kiddo, you can sleep now. I'll tow you in."
"Mmm… thanks, mama," mumbled White, collapsing into a heap at the battleship's side.
If Jersey's face wasn't covered in soot and blood, she would have blushed a luminescent red as she gently pulled ahead of the carrier, her faeries rushing to the fantail with tow rope in hand. "No problem, kiddo," she said, ruffling White's hair as the carrier slept, to tired to even snore.
"Hey, Jersey!" Johnston waved again, pointing at the cluster of ships—a battleship and her destroy screen, if Jersey's one remaining eye was any good at all—steamed over to meet them. "There's our escort!"
"Can we go meet them?" asked Hoel, her hands clasped in supplication.
"Please?" added Johnston, "We'll be good, we swear!"
"We wanna be good this time," added Heermann, making a show of traversing her torpedo tubes away from the oncoming battleship.
Jersey let out a very tired sigh, rubbing the bloody crust away from her one good eye with the heel of her hand. She was too damn tired for this, and the taffies were going to keep begging until they got what they want anyway… "Fuck it, fine."
"Thanks!" chorused all three girls, their wakes erupting in churning white foam as they poured the steam.
Johnston took a deep breath, putting on her most stoic, most… respectful-est face as she steamed towards the battleship. Four turrets, one stack… and one big-ass pagoda mast. "What do you think?" she asked, glancing across her beam at Hoel, "Nagato?"
"Or Mutsu," said Hoel, pointing out the battleship's
teeny-tiny little skirt and very visible abs—though Johnston noted with pride they weren't quite as toned as Jersey's abs!
Johnston gulped, her eyes going wide as she took in the Japanese battleship's figure. She was really pretty! Like…
really really pretty! "Uh… uh… hi!" she stammered, waving frantically at the battleship.
"Cone-e-chee-wa!" said Hoel, stumbling over the words as she bowed from the waist.
Heerman smiled, offering a wave as she hung back behind her sisters.
"Uh, Miss… Nagato-class battleship," said Johnston, bowing just a little deeper than Hoel, "Lady… person. Um… I'm USS
Johnston, DD-577."
"USS
Hoel, DD-533."
"USS
Heermann, DD-532."
"Mmmhm," said Johnston, still staring resolutely at the ground, "We wanted to thank your, uh… honorable selves for, uh… uh…" she stammered, racking her brain for every bit of formal protocol she knew—which really wasn't much—she was
not embarrassing Jersey and her admiral again!
"For allowing us the honor and pleasure," said Hoel.
"Of staying on your, um… did we say honor too many times?" said Johnston, shooting a pleading glance to Heermann.
Heermann rolled her eyes, "Thank you for having us on your island."
"And we promise we'll be good guests," added Johnston.
"Please don't hate us?" finished Hoel.
The three destroyers held their bow, waiting patiently—or as patiently as a
Fletcher-class destroyer ever could—for the battleship to respond.
For a few long minutes, there was nothing. Nothing but a very curious sound, like someone was very rapidly squeezing and squeezing a small rubber ball. Hoel was the first to risk a look.
The short-haired battleship had a hand clamped to her mouth, desperately struggling to contain her laughter at the three destroyers bent at the waist in front of her. Her cheeks were glowing red with effort, and her eyes were close to tears.
"M-miss battleship lady, sempai, ma'am?" asked Hoel.
"Mutsu," said the battleship, her voice a sing-song canter filtered though a bubbly laugh. "You- you must be the girls of taffy 3? Kongou told me all about you."
"Yes ma'am!" said all three destroyers.
"I'm really sorry," added Johnston, "I was being a little shit."
"You kinda were," added Hoel.
"Shut up, you thought it was badass."
"Still shitty," mumbled Hoel.
"Girls," Mutsu shook her head, "She told me you were
very tired, and you were
veryapologetic afterwards." She smiled, ruffling Hoel's hair as she steamed past. "Everyone makes mistakes now and then, hmm? I should know."
"Oh…" Johnston scratched at the headband of her feathers, "So… you're not mad at us?"
Mutsu shook her head. "How could I be? You're so kawaii."
Johnston glanced back at her sisters. "I don't know what that means, but okay!" she said with a cheery smile.
Mutsu giggled, gliding to a stop a few hundred yards abreast of Jersey. "Battleship
New Jersey?"
"Yeah?" said the exhausted battleship, her head very slowly looking up from the tow-line.
"I, Battleship
Mutsu of the Japanese Maritime Self-Defense-Force," Mutsu brought a hand up to her brow, "am your relief, ma'am."
Jersey was quiet for a second, then she slowly brought her charred hand up to her bloodied brow. "I, Battleship
New Jersey of the United States Navy, am relieved."
Mutsu snapped her hand back to her side in a single crisp movement, while Jersey just let her hand fall to her side like her tired muscles had simply given up.
"When will your tow be ready?" asked Mutsu.
"Gimme…" Jersey took a shallow breath, "Uh… fifteen minutes?"
"Understood," said Mutsu, nodding to her destroyer screen—two short-haired girls in shiny armored corsets—to form up around the convoy and herd them into formation.
"Girls?" said Hoel, glancing to her sisters, "You know what to do." Without a word, the three
Fletcher class destroyers formed up on Jersey, forming a silent wedge around the battered, bleeding battleship.
"We got you, Big J," said Johnston, smiling as she slotted into formation right off Jersey's bow.
"We're with you to the end, skipper," added Hoel.
"We love you," finished Heermann.
Jersey was beyond exhausted… but she found just enough strength to smile at her girls.
—|—|—
It was past nightfall when the convoy finally broke into Tokyo bay, not that it mattered much. Skyscrapers towered as far as the eye could see, glowing with every color of the rainbow like enormous pillars of luminescent crystal.
Jersey supposed she should be awed by the beauty, perhaps putting on a slack-jawed face of astonishment like the taffies were wearing. But, as pretty a visage as it was, it simply wasn't registering to her.
Not right now, not after she'd had to tank up so many destroyers. Her stomach was so empty it was physically painful. She felt the charred muscles in her core twist in on themselves, screaming in agony with each breath that she
needed sleep, needed rest, needed a good long soak in the docks. Every part of her ached, the skin on her legs was raw, her neck was charred into ash, and her hair was matted down with blood and oil.
"Heyyyy~," a low, sultry purr rumbled off the calm water somewhere off Jersey's starboard bow. She glanced over to see a…
She blinked.
Yup, there it was,a fat-assed, not to mention thoroughly-stacked submarine was sidling up against Hoel. She was so close Jersey swore she could hear the wet squelch of swimsuited submarine boobs against Hoel's hull.
"You're new here," said the very lewd submarine, pressing herself against one of her long-lance torpedoes in a very suggestive manner, "Haven't seen you around, heh~?"
"Who…" Hoel gave Jersey a panicked look. "Who… are you?"
"Eh heh heh~" the submarine gave a sultry little laugh that oozed with positively gargantuan amounts of lewd. "I'm the submarine I-19," she said, leaning closer to Hoel, her boobs piling up against the destroyer's weather deck, "Yes, Iku~"
Hoel gulped, staring at Johnston for help. Johnston was, however, doubled over trying to contain her laughter.
"Um… okay," said Hoel.
'Iku' gave another sultry laugh. "I'm going out on a mission," she said with a teasing smile, "But I couldn't let a cruiser like you just sail by, heh~"
"I'm…" Hoel gulped again, "I'm a destroyer."
Jersey'd never
seen a sub crash-dive that fast. Iku vanished into the inky water, leaving nothing but a trail of bubbles and a very confused destroyer repeating the word "What?" over and over again.
"That… that was Iku," said Kongou, her palm resting firmly on her face. "She does that."
"Yes," sighed Mutsu, sending her destroyers to supervise the convoy's berthing procedures. "That was Iku. Arizona-san should be waiting for you at the docks. If you'd like…" the battleship nodded to the cluster of destroyers—and one very tired escort carrier—surrounding Jersey.
Jersey thought for a second, clutching her aching belly with her hand. Food… food sounded so good right about now. "No," she said, shaking her head. "No, they're my girls, I'll get them settled."
"You sure?" asked Mutsu, arching one eyebrow.
Jersey felt her belly rumble in disapproval, her muscles going taut and starting to cramp up. "Yeah," she said, nodding her head with a sense of finality. "Yeah, I'm sure."
Jersey forced her hunger to the back of her mind as she pulled up to a long concrete ramp. Her rigging de-manifested around her, fading back into the ether from which it came as she stepped back onto dry land.
"Come on, kiddo," she said, gingerly picking up the sleeping form of White Plains and cuddling her against her charred breast. White murmured something in her sleep, a tiny smile materializing on her face as she snuggled up tight to the battleship.
"Docks are right this way," said Fubuki, wringing her hands as she pointed the battleship towards an ornately-styled building at the base of the pier.
Jersey gave a silent nod, the world around her fading into a blurry dream. Her legs ached, her arms ached, her stomach was bellowing at her to get some food, she was
miserable. But none of that mattered right now. Right now… she had to get White to the docks.
That's all that mattered, her universe was just herself, her charge, and the docks. The battleship grit her teeth, forcing one foot in front of the other as she plodded up the pier. She was getting to the docks, even if it killed her.
—|—|—
USS Arizona, the last of the
Pennsylvania-class super-dreadnoughts, and the first American warship to die at the hands of the Imperial Japanese Navy, stood at rigid attention.
Her scarlet hair was tied back in a short ponytail, the brass on her combination cover was polished to a mirror shine, and her navy greatcoat was draped across her scarred shoulders, framing her shapely form like a classical statue. She was the very image of stoic calm.
Then the bathhouse doors exploded open, and a cluster of destroyers the likes of which Arizona had never seen burst in. Following close on their heels was… Was a towering battleship, her amazonian figure on full display in her…
Arizona suppressed a gasp. She'd never believe a battleship would allow herself to be seen in something so… revealing. But the poor woman was covered head to toe in blood and oil. Arizona choose to believe her clothing had simply been shot away. "USS
New Jersey, I presume?" she said, bringing her hand to her brow in crisp salute.
The battleship nodded weakly, "I…" she glanced around, her gaze hazy as she slowly processed where she was. "I gotta get this girl-" she nodded to the sleeping carrier in her arms, "changed and into the docks."
"I can handle it," said Arizona, offering her arms to receive the sleeping girl. It was an offer Jersey was only too happy to accept.
"Don't worry, skipper," said one of the destroyer girls, the one with a feathery headress. "We'll watch her."
"You… you girls don't want good?" said Jersey, her voice horribly raspy.
"No, we're not-" another destroyer girl was abruptly cut off when her belly sounded a loud grumble.
"We're not gonna leave White," said the third girl.
Jersey let out a very tired sigh. "Alright then, uh… I'll bring you girls something."
The destroyer girls nodded.
"Be good, okay?" said Jersey, her shoulders limp as she glanced from the girls to Arizona.
"We will!" chorused the destroyers.
Jersey smiled, "Good girls…" she looked over at Arizona. "They're all yours now, Ari."
Arizona offered the best smile she could manage. "I'll take good care of them."
—|—|—
"It's past midnight you know," said Yeoman Gale, effortlessly sliding into the pleather-lined seat across from Crowning.
"Yeah," said the professor, taking a long breath a he stared into the frothy white beverage in front of him. "Yeah it is," he said, gingerly picking the mug up and taking a slow sip.
"Can't sleep either?" Gale slouched into the seat, her black sweatpants gliding over the surface with a gentle
fshhh.
Crowning shook his head, "Hence the-" he raised his mug, "-warm milk."
"Warm milk, huh?" said Gale with a smirk.
"Jersey, uh… turned me onto it," said Crowning, taking another little sip. "Said it helps her sleep. And… given how much she sleeps…" he trailed off into a nervous little laugh.
"You saw the pictures, didn't you?"
"Hmm?"
"Of Jersey," said Gale, "Leading her convoy into Yokosuka all battered and bruised like that."
"Yeah."
"You're worried about your girl?" said Gale.
Crowning nodded, either too tired or too worried to react to Gale's teasing.
Gale pursed her lips. Whatever jokes she'd had in mind faded away into nothingness. Crowning, her friend, her comrade in the struggle to summon more warships, was worried sick. "She's gonna be okay, you know," she said.
"Hmm?"
"She's a battleship," said Gale. "A gun fight like that, a brawl… she's built for that. Those little bitches could wail on her all day with their peashooters and not sink her."
Crowning shot her a weary look.
"Relax, Doc. Your girl's coming home alive," said Gale, smiling as best she could under the circumstances. "You'll get that kiss."
Crowning smiled. It was a tiny smile, a faint quiver of his lips in an upwards direction, but it was a smile. An honest-to-god smile of genuine happiness. "Gale… how do you know. How could you possibly know about that?"
"Sir… I'm an NCO," said Gale, "We know about
literally everything."
—|—|—
It took all of Jersey's strength to walk out of the bath house with her head held high. The second she was out of sight of the taffies, she felt her knees buckle. She slouched against the tiled wall, one hand clinging to it for support while the other clutched her aching, charred belly.
She wanted-she needed food, she was running on close to empty. The battleship scowled, gritting her teeth as she forced herself to take another step. Her body fell back on its barest animal instincts: find food.
She took another step, but this time she almost bounced off the silk-covered bosom of a perky little Japanese fast battleship. Kongou smiled at her, the pointy tuft on her head waving in greeting.
"Kongou… I'm not in-" Jersey was abruptly silenced when Kongou shoved something rectangular and chocolaty into her open mouth.
"wa' dis?" mumbled Jersey, her spine going weak as the glorious taste of chocolate, caramel, and peanuts exploded in her mouth.
"Snickers, Dess!" said Kongou with a huge smile.
Jersey sucked the rest of the candy bar down in one bite, swallowing the delicious confection with a weary smile. "Thanks… Kongou," she said, "But I need more than a-"
Kongou produced an enormous.. pastry of some kind. A turnover that smelled of meat and potatoes and spiced apples… Jersey didn't know how the Japanese girl got it, and right now,
she didn't care. Just the smell of it was enough to sate her hunger. Jersey grabbed for the pastry, taking a huge bite of warm bread and spiced meat.
"Cornish pasty, Dess!" said Kongou, smiling even wider at Jersey's unrestrained glee. "'Zuki and her sisters are making curry soup!"
Jersey's eyes went wide, almost as wide as her bulging chipmunked cheeks.
"And I know you Americans don't like bathing naked," added Kongou, producing… a tiny, if rather fetching, white and red bikini. "I brought you one of mine, dess!"
"Kongou… how did you- why-" Jersey trailed off, deciding that any answer she'd get couldn't be as rewarding as another bite of the fast-battleship's amazing cooking.
"Your kids love you," said Kongou, "You should be with them!"
Jersey blushed, swallowing the last bite of her meal. "Thanks… Kongou."
Kongou smiled, "No Problem, Dess! Dinner'll be right up!"
- - - -
A/N: Too much caffeine, and a bunch of ideas I wanted to hash out before the convoy ends equals... this monster of a chapter. Hope you enjoy!
