Have an omake.
[=]
The cooling off evening air does little to cool off my temper as I walk out of the reception hall in a huff. It took me a few minutes to realize, but Pennsylvania had essentially turned my evening into an NTR plot. Except there was no amorous intent from her. She wouldn't be caught dead sleeping with someone Japanese, anyway.
The bitch didn't even give me time to exchange phone numbers with the woman who turned out to be surprisingly wonderful.
"Shit." I mutter. The two are long gone, and I have no idea where the Wolf's patrol route will take her.
I have some time to find her, though. My boat needed repairs from an afternoon of dealing with enemy destroyers. Thankfully we nailed one of them and the rest ran out of depth charges.
I scroll through my phone. A selfie is the most recent picture, her and I smiling, having a genuinely good time. Those canines of hers are admittedly rather sharp-looking. Appropriate given her moniker. But she was no doubt just as upset about this, too.
I pocket my phone, my hand briefly brushing against the little foil wrapper in there, just in case I ended up going home with someone.
"Guess I won't be needing that, either." I sigh.
I couldn't just leave her like that. BB-38 was likely to have a very bad time if I couldn't get into contact with Ashigara. The woman had a rough time, from what I heard. She deserves better than to mope in her room, alone.
And she was beautiful. That soft, wavy brown hair framing her well-defined features. Her dress even flaunted her curves, generous, but not quite to the level of Atago, which I doubted anyone could really match with the possible exception of New Jersey. She was perfection given the form of a cruiser-turned-woman. Even her laugh had me desiring more, even if it sounded kinda creepy, much like a death goddess coming for one's soul.
The sun had gone down, retreating westward. The day's light was fading rapidly, and soon I'd be making my way towards my room before eventually returning to the Washington once repairs, resupply, and maintenance were done. I also heard that Seawolf had been recently deployed here, her 8 torpedo tubes proving useful in actually hitting stuff, even if six or seven more $3 million ADCAPs missed. This war was fucking expensive to wage. It was clear that Shipgirls would be a not-insignificant part of the future after this. All you needed was about $1,000 worth of food, give or take, and a battleship or a carrier could sortie for a week or two.
Which meant that I'd need a pretty hefty food budget if I ended up re-establishing contact with Ashigara. She'd probably like it back home. Plenty of nice, locally-owned places to eat, plus the West Side Market if she wanted something exotic. Of course, I had no idea if they could go inland or not. They walked around bases and the nearby towns just fine, but what if they ended up moving in with someone who lived in, say, Buffalo, Wyoming? Or Joplin, Missouri? In the latter case, it means plenty of shiny new houses and stores, and in the former, the snow-capped peaks of the Bighorns. But would it adversely affect their health?
Indeed, it brought my mind back to what would happen should things happen and I have to introduce her to my family. My sister continued to be in denial that these girls and women were a thing. My mom sure as hell doesn't expect me to bring home a War Bride. My grandma… the less said about her, the better. And unfortunately, it was starting to look like I'd have to comb through Facebook, her stomping ground, to find a lead. Or maybe I could just find her email. Probably a misuse, but it's better than nothing.
I sigh. It was so wonderful to see her so happy. Something in me stirred up, and I can't help but wonder if the so-called 'Red String' has tied me with her. I never believed in fate, and yet it felt like something was trying to draw Ashigara and I together. All while my family back home seemed to be drifting apart.
A small irony, I suppose.
A faint feeling of smug wafts through the air. I turn my head and catch a glimpse of that Army Colonel being dragged off by an admittedly very top-heavy redhead and Chikuma. At least one of us is in for a fun time. His pelvis is probably doomed, though. But I can imagine him weakly giving a thumbs-up to both women after the deed is done before passing out from exhaustion and pain.
I look out towards the sea and sigh. Pennsy's surprise kept me from making a move that would at least ensure another chance. To be denied something one wants, whether that be as simple as a kill worked hard for in a video game or a shot at love such as this, is one of the worst feelings ever. But a few flashes of a light catch my eye. Long and short. Morse Code.
'Help… me… I… cannot… be… denied… victory…'
I reach out, even if I know that I'll never feel her skin or the fabric of her dress. A few tears well up before I rub them away. Ashigara may have had a reputation for desperation, and yet she was so wonderful. Easy to make her laugh, good at conversation, and a hell of a figure to top it off. Why nobody wanted her, I had no clue. Maybe she's overbearing, but I've dealt with those kinds of people. Perhaps she had unconventional interests, but I could work with those.
I quickly take out my phone and flash a message back using the flashlight function, and I pray she sees it.
'Wish… I… could. Would… have… loved… to… keep… going… with… you.'
I can suddenly hear Pennsylvania yelling furiously about OPSEC and radio silence from here. Guess the two were closer to me than I thought.
There's nothing else I can really do from this point. I turn around and slowly walk away. At least she knows I would have been willing to give her a chance. But I have time to find her, if only a somewhat brief window of a week or two before my boat is ready to go again.
At least submarine patrols were relatively safe, provided one didn't fuck up. Compared to the surface fleet, the Silent Service took relatively fewer losses, but made up for it in inability to do its job. So as long as we didn't run too afoul of enemy destroyers or MPAs, I'd be fine. But I simply keep going, looking over my shoulder one last time.
I pull up Google and start my search there. If she had any social media profiles, they'd be among the first results, hopefully. A news story pops up, of when she first returned.
And yet something stops me. A sense of wrongness somewhere out there. As if something big has reared its ugly head and someone is about to do something very stupid.
"Please be safe…"
Something tells me our Hungry Wolf will get that second shot later.
