Skywalker_T-65
Writer with too many ideas.
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- Plural/They/He/Her
They are supposed to be making a second season (and a movie IIRC) sooner or later though.
Belated Battleships (KanColle) [REHOST]
- Thread starter theJMPer
- Start date
Farmerbob1
Rest in Peace
- Location
- Atlanta-ish
Hrm. Weird. I thought there were two seasons. I must be thinking about A Certain Scientific Railgun.
Icywinter
50% ice, 50% winter
- Location
- ?
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Only issue I have with Kancolle having an animeme is that you can't really do anything than invoke a Cerberus retcon on everything, lest you alienate a lot of your playerbase by making a single chain of events canon, and everything else not.
I'd love to have something like Morgane of the Mists' US Navy Shipgirls be the Kancolle anime; a serious, thoughtful look on a world changed by the presence of the Abyssals, and the guardians of humanity; the shipgirls fighting to protect us all.
The Greatest Generation is that fic, and this one as well. I honestly think that stories like these are better than the Slice-of-Life official anime.
I would've loved to have at least four seasons of SERIOUS PLOT. Kisaragi's sinking could have been the catalyst, and things would've gotten serious from there.
Instead, we have a missing Admiral that the girls don't even care about. haha
I'd love to have something like Morgane of the Mists' US Navy Shipgirls be the Kancolle anime; a serious, thoughtful look on a world changed by the presence of the Abyssals, and the guardians of humanity; the shipgirls fighting to protect us all.
The Greatest Generation is that fic, and this one as well. I honestly think that stories like these are better than the Slice-of-Life official anime.
I would've loved to have at least four seasons of SERIOUS PLOT. Kisaragi's sinking could have been the catalyst, and things would've gotten serious from there.
Instead, we have a missing Admiral that the girls don't even care about. haha
Whiskey Golf
Being of Editing & Technical Assistance
- Location
- Chained to my desk
Nagato was more Admiral than the Admiral. :/
Also from their first scene together I shipped Mutsu/Nagato.
Also from their first scene together I shipped Mutsu/Nagato.
Shaithan
Re-class is happiest class
- Location
- The worst part of Germany
And the OTP of the Anime was Akagi x Food.Nagato was more Admiral than the Admiral. :/
Also from their first scene together I shipped Mutsu/Nagato.
Though, Ookami was a good runner-up.
Really, the anime was what got me into Kancolle at all, so I will always like it at least a bit, even if there could have been a lot of things done better.
Icywinter
50% ice, 50% winter
- Location
- ?
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Nagato IS the Admiral.
CompassJimbo
Where’s Your North?
- Location
- The former Rubber Capital of the World
Kongou/Nagato OTP?
Icywinter
50% ice, 50% winter
- Location
- ?
- Pronouns
- She/Her
For some reason I see this working out very well.
Adm. Goto feels a sudden wave of relief, hehehe.
CompassJimbo
Where’s Your North?
- Location
- The former Rubber Capital of the World
I can practically see the fanart. Kongou on top of a very surprised Nagato, a lustful look on her face.
Whiskey Golf
Being of Editing & Technical Assistance
- Location
- Chained to my desk
And then Mutsu shows up to stake her claim.
Icywinter
50% ice, 50% winter
- Location
- ?
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Who says that Kongou would be the one on top~?
"N-Nagato-san, what ar--"
"Sshh. Don't worry, I'll take care of you."
>making Kongou stutter and blush like a virgin on her wedding night
>>AYYYY
- Location
- 'Murica
The Anime did the slice-of-life off-duty shenanigans well. Just look at DesDiv6 attempting to make curry. That part didn't really bother me, there's the old quote that Military Life is weeks of unmitigated boredom followed by seconds of sheer terror.
The Anime just kinda... sucked at the "ship" half of "shipgirls." They didn't do much naval action, which I hope to rectify here.
Icywinter
50% ice, 50% winter
- Location
- ?
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Agreed. That really was the major bone I had with the anime, because there wasn't enough action. Just cute shipgirls doing cute things.
Not like So Ra No Wo To.
Whiskey Golf
Being of Editing & Technical Assistance
- Location
- Chained to my desk
On the other hand let's be honest, how many of us would watch a series dedicated to the cute DesDiv 6 lolis doing cute things?
*raises hand*
*raises hand*
*raises hand*
Their antics are very amusing.
Shaithan
Re-class is happiest class
- Location
- The worst part of Germany
I knew I'd find a use for this video.
The slice-of-life was good, the action pretty much meh. I'd be fully aboard with an anime only featuring the slice-of-life. As long as a) Mama Tenryuu is included and b) Hoppo is in there.
Of course, they could also go the route of making it more of a Seinen series, where the devastation that happened and the fact that shipgirls are limited are explored in depth. KanColle can make for a rather depressing and mature setting, especially when contrasted to the hopeful and joyful personalities the shipgirls have.
Hell, in such a setting I can see Kongo acting even more of an excitable clown especially to keep morale up with her antics. As long as Kongo laughs, things are good. Many of the younger girls will be blissfully unaware that the clown is the saddest man in the arena.
Whiskey Golf
Being of Editing & Technical Assistance
- Location
- Chained to my desk
I've always personally thought of Kongou as a shipgirl Jack O'Neill (2 Ls, sense of humor). She's seen things, and in a deliberate effort not to go back to that dark place she's been, deliberately clowns around and everyone writes her off.
Then she shows up, backhands a shell away and then hugs a DD loli who's slipping past the Despair Event Horizon. Then finishes off the Abyssals with a broadside.
Last edited:
Shaithan
Re-class is happiest class
- Location
- The worst part of Germany
Yes, I also see Kongo as someone who knows that someone has to bring some levity to the whole thing and be the funny guy. But she also knows when someone needs the serious, big sister figure Kongo that can bring you back and give hope.
Icywinter
50% ice, 50% winter
- Location
- ?
- Pronouns
- She/Her
And that is why many consider her to be best girl in Kancolle so far.
My characterization of Bismarck is practically the same.
obssesednuker
Commander of 10 Million Men
- Location
- In the Kremlin, activating Perimtr.
Hrm... Something for me to look for on danbooru when I get home.
Old Iron writeup 3
- Location
- 'Murica
Writeup time, thanks to Old Iron! In which we get a flashback and someone is very Wrong-Genre-Savvy.
* * * * *
A steel shadow's comforting watch over a casket marked by a great marble headstone.
Lauded with honors and respected beyond comprehension. Even those who had sent both her and those who sailed upon her to the deep paid their respects to the fallen and the brave. A lesson for the history books. Immortalized for her failure.
She hated it.
She loathed it.
Her rusting corpse enshrined as though she were a mighty warrior or some steel goddess of the high seas. It only served to embitter her as hot tears of crude stained the waters around her.
She was no grand figure to be worshipped nor deity of tragic remembrance.
She was someone who had failed to do her duty.
Every laurel, hymn, and salute reminded her of what she believed to be the greatest failure in her existence.
She remembers the screams of her crew, those who burned and those who bled as they died. The pleas and the resignation of those who were trapped by her twisted hulk as they drowned and starved and died without hope in those weeks after the attack. She would not die until the last sailor trapped breathed his last.
Her admiral's ring fused by fire to her hull, his body no more than ash.
Slain like a pig at the butcher's market, she offered up no defense against the howling planes as her virgin guns sat silent.
She was furious and she was desolate.
It mattered not that the price for their lives had been repaid a thousand times over.
It mattered not that she was not and would never be forgotten by anyone who could claim to know that there was indeed a location in the Pacific by the name of Pearl Harbor.
She had failed in the most spectacular manner. Failed her crews, her sisters, and her country. Being struck down in a hellish storm of fire without so much as a thought and then languishing upon her deathbed. Praised for dying a dog's death.
Her duty remained incomplete. No matter what the souls who died with her said, she would never claim she had done her part. No matter what the souls who came to rest alongside her said, she would never embrace forgiveness for her lack of action.
A piercing whistle cut through the deep.
General Quarters.
Fire roared in her belly as twelve boilers raged to life once more.
Patient and wrath filled guns, once broken and shattered, swiveled into place with a vicious grace.
General Quarters.
She latched onto the command like the damned to salvation and thrust away from the embrace of peace.
She was not so noble in her intention.
It was selfish and arrogant.
She would never again rest.
She would never again let her guns lay silent.
Revenge for the fallen and a bulwark for those who lived.
General Quarters.
It mattered not how.
It mattered not the cost.
She would fight once again.
And Her Foes Will Die.
* * * * *
Admiral Richardson looked both haggard and irate. For the better part of four hours marines, sailors, and even the air force had cycled in and out. Music had been blaring nearly non-stop as they all poured out everything they could muster. If they had a shred of musical skill, they had taken stage to stir up those gathered. The chanting. The shouting. The cheering. The near desperate call to arms from every soul that could be called upon.
All for the sake of drawing out a single ship from the deep.
They had followed the instruction provided by ONI to the letter, but no one had responded. He had dismissed the fact they were currently sitting pretty in a naval base that worked joint operations with the JMSDF as being a reason. If anything it would only raise more questions for the girl when she awoke. Did they not have enough people? Were their pleas insufficient? Did she just not like the damned music?
He glanced to the side as medical staff carted out one sailor who had pushed himself to fainting in his fervor. They were getting nowhere and taking their sweet time to get there. The troops were reaching their limits. Some of those with family were arranging to see if it was possible to have them present if only to add another voice. Whether in person or over the airwaves.
A gloved hand rested itself on Richardson's shoulder and he turned to see the weary yet still smiling face of battleship Mutsu. She had stepped out momentarily to take his daughter back home. Jane had begged and pleaded until her father had allowed her to come. She hadn't wanted to miss out on a chance to finally meet an American shipgirl and even more to help summon her. Even so, she managed only an hour before the noise had become too much. Constantly cheering for the unknown warship had certainly not helped and the poor girl had very nearly fallen asleep in Mutsu's lap despite the ludicrous volume. She had been just that tuckered out.
"She took her time going to sleep, didn't she." It was more a statement of fact than a question.
"My my, your girl is a handful. I had to read five chapters to her before she finally fell asleep." Mutsu was rather amazed that despite being as tired as she was, the little girl still had the energy to complain and beg for a bedtime story once she was all nestled under the covers. She sighed and allowed the smile to slip into a saddened expression. "Still nothing?"
"I still don't know why she thinks the operator's manual for a boiler is fun bedtime reading." His frown slipped for a moment as he tried to piece together where the manual had even come from. It and dozens more. "The lights haven't even flickered."
"A Babcock and Wilcox boiler." She clarified before removing her hand from Richardson's shoulder and beginning to scan the seas.
Another song reached its end and it looked as though everyone was spent. The admiral was half ready to call this attempt a wash before going somewhere nice and quiet so he could curse until the the flora began to wither. Before he could do so, he felt the other half swell with anger. People were suffering. The allies of America needed more than handouts. They needed power. A power to help fight back the abyssal monstrosities.
Power they were failing to bring forth.
He grit his teeth to the point where he felt they might crack as the frustration built. Not even the beginnings of a new song helped to quell his ire.
"That fucking does it!" He roared before storming over to the waterfront. Mutsu jumped in surprise and more than a few troops looked at him as though he'd finally lost his mind. Which was well within the realm of possibility.
Richardson, fully loaded with piss and vinegar, had been ready to launch a tirade of epic proportions at the empty sea. Prepared to vent all his frustrations out in the open. He opened his mouth and the vitriol on his tongue turned to water. A blast of frigid winter air swept through the base and brought near everything to a halt. Only the band continued, filling the stillness with chords heavy and potent.
A sharp, long whistle pierced the music.
"Maybe she's already here." Mutsu lowered the whistle with a half smile and a shrug before giggling. "And maybe you've summoned a sleepyhead." The battleship walked over to one of the MP's and took a polished white megaphone from him. Good for barking orders. Very good. She thumbed the power switch and tossed it to Richardson who caught it awkwardly, somehow not hitting the trigger as he did so.
He locked eyes with the brunette who merely gave a playful smile. She had no more idea than he did at this point, but he was glad she was trying. Certainly more than he at least. They were all strung out and morale would take a sharp dive if they didn't at least try everything they could think of. Not when they had the supposed formula for sparkly magical shipgirl summoning.
Richardson nodded and she brought that shiny whistle to her lips again, this time with hundreds of eyes upon her.
Once more that whistle sounded out. Starting low and shifting high.
When Mutsu finished, he raised the megaphone and drew in a deep breath.
Then he roared.
"GENERAL QUARTERS! GENERAL QUARTERS! ALL HANDS MAN YOUR BATTLE STATIONS!"
There was silence as the band finally stopped.
And then the lights dimmed.
A churning sound placed all eyes upon the sea. A growing froth spread violently as flames licked the epicenter. A gloved hand breached the dark waters and slammed down upon the surface. It was joined by a second as their owner struggled to pull itself free from whatever chains still tried to bind it. The sound of straining shafts preceded the figure finally pulling itself free with a great heave of the sea.
Wide, mad eyes scanned the crowds until they locked onto the closest officer: Richardson.
The woman in the navy longcoat stepped forward with footfalls that sounded far heavier than they actually were. Even the concrete seemed to groan under her boots.
She looked nothing like the ships Richardson had seen in the reports. Despite being mostly concealed by the singed coat, he could tell she did not have the build of a hard hitting runner. Nor was she a short, sinewy brawler. And she most certainly did not share any likeness with the adorable little escort carrier.
Mutsu approached from the rear and the newcomer tensed, looking for all the world like she was about to jump the battleship and send her packing to the breakers. It lasted for only the briefest of moments however. The woman's eyes went hazy and a look of comprehension seemed to bubble up before she locked eyes on the chrysanthemum crest upon Mutsu's bow. There was a nod and she turned her gaze back to Richardson.
He offered a salute, no longer appearing as the man who had not minutes ago been ready to live up to the adage of swearing like a sailor and now looking every part the stern commanding officer. "You're late sailor. Report."
"No excuses sir." Her grey eyes glinted in a way that reminded him of someone about to snap. The flecks of dark gold did not help. "It won't happen again. Sir."
"Your name?"
"Pennsylvania-class battleship. Hull number 39. USS Arizona." She offered up a salute, however oddly it may have felt to her. She'd never had hands before after all.
There was a pregnant pause as everyone in earshot digested this information. One of the most famous battleships in American history now stood on the waterline at Sasebo. No one seemed to breathe as Richardson sized up the returned Arizona.
"United States Navy. Rear Admiral John Richardson. Welcome to the fleet." His words and salute were crisp and absolutely formal. Even if they hadn't just summoned the embodiment of the tragedy of Pearl, he'd have done the same. He paused for a moment before risking a glance to his side and saw Mutsu at attention.
"Japanese Maritime Self Defense Force. Battleship Mutsu." She broke formality and smiled warmly. "Welcome to the fleet, Miss Arizona."
Arizona looked rather confused for a moment, not quite expecting the warm welcome she was receiving. Had she not failed her duties so absolutely? Should she not be reprimanded at the very least? She had even been late according to Admiral Richardson.
"Good to be... here?" Arizona spoke uncertainly, wondering just what was going on as the confusion continued to mount with each passing moment.
"Okay. I'm sorry, but I'm not sorry. I and everyone here am exhausted and hungry." Richardson gestured to the massive crowd who had remained silent thus far by some miracle he could not be bothered to comprehend at the moment. The formality continued to fall as he decided to take full advantage of both Arizona's apparent confusion and the fact they had finally summoned a shipgirl. "So." He pointed first to the new arrival and then to the smiling Mutsu. "You two." He jabbed a thumb at his chest. "And I. Are going to get some God. Damned. Food."
"But first~" Mutsu gave no warning as she sided up next to Arizona. "Three cheers for Arizona! Come on everyone!" She hollered to the crowd with all her enthusiasm as she reached over to the shorter battleship's hand and raised it triumphantly to the sky.
"Wh-What?" The copper haired woman was nearly floored by the roaring cheers that accompanied Mutsu's declaration. This wasn't what she expected at all!
Richardson put a hand on Arizona's head and ruffled her hair. "Don't think too hard. Just... Come on. Lets eat." He removed his hand and gestured for the two battleships to follow. They could worry about more complicated things later when they weren't all tired, hungry, and strung out on music.
"A double booking? Oh my, my my... Isn't that dangerous?" Mutsu's positively dangerous grin was made impossible to take seriously owing to the twinkle in her eye. Still, she did not relinquish her hold on the utterly baffled Arizona's hand.
"You be quiet." Richardson's grumbles earned no shortage of laughter from Mutsu or those troops in earshot as she began walking along him.
Arizona was dragged along almost effortlessly with abject confusion painted plainly on her features.
* * * * *
A steel shadow's comforting watch over a casket marked by a great marble headstone.
Lauded with honors and respected beyond comprehension. Even those who had sent both her and those who sailed upon her to the deep paid their respects to the fallen and the brave. A lesson for the history books. Immortalized for her failure.
She hated it.
She loathed it.
Her rusting corpse enshrined as though she were a mighty warrior or some steel goddess of the high seas. It only served to embitter her as hot tears of crude stained the waters around her.
She was no grand figure to be worshipped nor deity of tragic remembrance.
She was someone who had failed to do her duty.
Every laurel, hymn, and salute reminded her of what she believed to be the greatest failure in her existence.
She remembers the screams of her crew, those who burned and those who bled as they died. The pleas and the resignation of those who were trapped by her twisted hulk as they drowned and starved and died without hope in those weeks after the attack. She would not die until the last sailor trapped breathed his last.
Her admiral's ring fused by fire to her hull, his body no more than ash.
Slain like a pig at the butcher's market, she offered up no defense against the howling planes as her virgin guns sat silent.
She was furious and she was desolate.
It mattered not that the price for their lives had been repaid a thousand times over.
It mattered not that she was not and would never be forgotten by anyone who could claim to know that there was indeed a location in the Pacific by the name of Pearl Harbor.
She had failed in the most spectacular manner. Failed her crews, her sisters, and her country. Being struck down in a hellish storm of fire without so much as a thought and then languishing upon her deathbed. Praised for dying a dog's death.
Her duty remained incomplete. No matter what the souls who died with her said, she would never claim she had done her part. No matter what the souls who came to rest alongside her said, she would never embrace forgiveness for her lack of action.
A piercing whistle cut through the deep.
General Quarters.
Fire roared in her belly as twelve boilers raged to life once more.
Patient and wrath filled guns, once broken and shattered, swiveled into place with a vicious grace.
General Quarters.
She latched onto the command like the damned to salvation and thrust away from the embrace of peace.
She was not so noble in her intention.
It was selfish and arrogant.
She would never again rest.
She would never again let her guns lay silent.
Revenge for the fallen and a bulwark for those who lived.
General Quarters.
It mattered not how.
It mattered not the cost.
She would fight once again.
And Her Foes Will Die.
* * * * *
Admiral Richardson looked both haggard and irate. For the better part of four hours marines, sailors, and even the air force had cycled in and out. Music had been blaring nearly non-stop as they all poured out everything they could muster. If they had a shred of musical skill, they had taken stage to stir up those gathered. The chanting. The shouting. The cheering. The near desperate call to arms from every soul that could be called upon.
All for the sake of drawing out a single ship from the deep.
They had followed the instruction provided by ONI to the letter, but no one had responded. He had dismissed the fact they were currently sitting pretty in a naval base that worked joint operations with the JMSDF as being a reason. If anything it would only raise more questions for the girl when she awoke. Did they not have enough people? Were their pleas insufficient? Did she just not like the damned music?
He glanced to the side as medical staff carted out one sailor who had pushed himself to fainting in his fervor. They were getting nowhere and taking their sweet time to get there. The troops were reaching their limits. Some of those with family were arranging to see if it was possible to have them present if only to add another voice. Whether in person or over the airwaves.
A gloved hand rested itself on Richardson's shoulder and he turned to see the weary yet still smiling face of battleship Mutsu. She had stepped out momentarily to take his daughter back home. Jane had begged and pleaded until her father had allowed her to come. She hadn't wanted to miss out on a chance to finally meet an American shipgirl and even more to help summon her. Even so, she managed only an hour before the noise had become too much. Constantly cheering for the unknown warship had certainly not helped and the poor girl had very nearly fallen asleep in Mutsu's lap despite the ludicrous volume. She had been just that tuckered out.
"She took her time going to sleep, didn't she." It was more a statement of fact than a question.
"My my, your girl is a handful. I had to read five chapters to her before she finally fell asleep." Mutsu was rather amazed that despite being as tired as she was, the little girl still had the energy to complain and beg for a bedtime story once she was all nestled under the covers. She sighed and allowed the smile to slip into a saddened expression. "Still nothing?"
"I still don't know why she thinks the operator's manual for a boiler is fun bedtime reading." His frown slipped for a moment as he tried to piece together where the manual had even come from. It and dozens more. "The lights haven't even flickered."
"A Babcock and Wilcox boiler." She clarified before removing her hand from Richardson's shoulder and beginning to scan the seas.
Another song reached its end and it looked as though everyone was spent. The admiral was half ready to call this attempt a wash before going somewhere nice and quiet so he could curse until the the flora began to wither. Before he could do so, he felt the other half swell with anger. People were suffering. The allies of America needed more than handouts. They needed power. A power to help fight back the abyssal monstrosities.
Power they were failing to bring forth.
He grit his teeth to the point where he felt they might crack as the frustration built. Not even the beginnings of a new song helped to quell his ire.
"That fucking does it!" He roared before storming over to the waterfront. Mutsu jumped in surprise and more than a few troops looked at him as though he'd finally lost his mind. Which was well within the realm of possibility.
Richardson, fully loaded with piss and vinegar, had been ready to launch a tirade of epic proportions at the empty sea. Prepared to vent all his frustrations out in the open. He opened his mouth and the vitriol on his tongue turned to water. A blast of frigid winter air swept through the base and brought near everything to a halt. Only the band continued, filling the stillness with chords heavy and potent.
A sharp, long whistle pierced the music.
"Maybe she's already here." Mutsu lowered the whistle with a half smile and a shrug before giggling. "And maybe you've summoned a sleepyhead." The battleship walked over to one of the MP's and took a polished white megaphone from him. Good for barking orders. Very good. She thumbed the power switch and tossed it to Richardson who caught it awkwardly, somehow not hitting the trigger as he did so.
He locked eyes with the brunette who merely gave a playful smile. She had no more idea than he did at this point, but he was glad she was trying. Certainly more than he at least. They were all strung out and morale would take a sharp dive if they didn't at least try everything they could think of. Not when they had the supposed formula for sparkly magical shipgirl summoning.
Richardson nodded and she brought that shiny whistle to her lips again, this time with hundreds of eyes upon her.
Once more that whistle sounded out. Starting low and shifting high.
When Mutsu finished, he raised the megaphone and drew in a deep breath.
Then he roared.
"GENERAL QUARTERS! GENERAL QUARTERS! ALL HANDS MAN YOUR BATTLE STATIONS!"
There was silence as the band finally stopped.
And then the lights dimmed.
A churning sound placed all eyes upon the sea. A growing froth spread violently as flames licked the epicenter. A gloved hand breached the dark waters and slammed down upon the surface. It was joined by a second as their owner struggled to pull itself free from whatever chains still tried to bind it. The sound of straining shafts preceded the figure finally pulling itself free with a great heave of the sea.
Wide, mad eyes scanned the crowds until they locked onto the closest officer: Richardson.
The woman in the navy longcoat stepped forward with footfalls that sounded far heavier than they actually were. Even the concrete seemed to groan under her boots.
She looked nothing like the ships Richardson had seen in the reports. Despite being mostly concealed by the singed coat, he could tell she did not have the build of a hard hitting runner. Nor was she a short, sinewy brawler. And she most certainly did not share any likeness with the adorable little escort carrier.
Mutsu approached from the rear and the newcomer tensed, looking for all the world like she was about to jump the battleship and send her packing to the breakers. It lasted for only the briefest of moments however. The woman's eyes went hazy and a look of comprehension seemed to bubble up before she locked eyes on the chrysanthemum crest upon Mutsu's bow. There was a nod and she turned her gaze back to Richardson.
He offered a salute, no longer appearing as the man who had not minutes ago been ready to live up to the adage of swearing like a sailor and now looking every part the stern commanding officer. "You're late sailor. Report."
"No excuses sir." Her grey eyes glinted in a way that reminded him of someone about to snap. The flecks of dark gold did not help. "It won't happen again. Sir."
"Your name?"
"Pennsylvania-class battleship. Hull number 39. USS Arizona." She offered up a salute, however oddly it may have felt to her. She'd never had hands before after all.
There was a pregnant pause as everyone in earshot digested this information. One of the most famous battleships in American history now stood on the waterline at Sasebo. No one seemed to breathe as Richardson sized up the returned Arizona.
"United States Navy. Rear Admiral John Richardson. Welcome to the fleet." His words and salute were crisp and absolutely formal. Even if they hadn't just summoned the embodiment of the tragedy of Pearl, he'd have done the same. He paused for a moment before risking a glance to his side and saw Mutsu at attention.
"Japanese Maritime Self Defense Force. Battleship Mutsu." She broke formality and smiled warmly. "Welcome to the fleet, Miss Arizona."
Arizona looked rather confused for a moment, not quite expecting the warm welcome she was receiving. Had she not failed her duties so absolutely? Should she not be reprimanded at the very least? She had even been late according to Admiral Richardson.
"Good to be... here?" Arizona spoke uncertainly, wondering just what was going on as the confusion continued to mount with each passing moment.
"Okay. I'm sorry, but I'm not sorry. I and everyone here am exhausted and hungry." Richardson gestured to the massive crowd who had remained silent thus far by some miracle he could not be bothered to comprehend at the moment. The formality continued to fall as he decided to take full advantage of both Arizona's apparent confusion and the fact they had finally summoned a shipgirl. "So." He pointed first to the new arrival and then to the smiling Mutsu. "You two." He jabbed a thumb at his chest. "And I. Are going to get some God. Damned. Food."
"But first~" Mutsu gave no warning as she sided up next to Arizona. "Three cheers for Arizona! Come on everyone!" She hollered to the crowd with all her enthusiasm as she reached over to the shorter battleship's hand and raised it triumphantly to the sky.
"Wh-What?" The copper haired woman was nearly floored by the roaring cheers that accompanied Mutsu's declaration. This wasn't what she expected at all!
Richardson put a hand on Arizona's head and ruffled her hair. "Don't think too hard. Just... Come on. Lets eat." He removed his hand and gestured for the two battleships to follow. They could worry about more complicated things later when they weren't all tired, hungry, and strung out on music.
"A double booking? Oh my, my my... Isn't that dangerous?" Mutsu's positively dangerous grin was made impossible to take seriously owing to the twinkle in her eye. Still, she did not relinquish her hold on the utterly baffled Arizona's hand.
"You be quiet." Richardson's grumbles earned no shortage of laughter from Mutsu or those troops in earshot as she began walking along him.
Arizona was dragged along almost effortlessly with abject confusion painted plainly on her features.