Belated Battleships (KanColle) [REHOST]

[CompassJimbo]

Hungry Wolf is about to go on the prowl.

[=]

The scent of love permeates the air, and it's almost suffocating. The most unlikely of couples, contrary to what the others say, are about to make it official. A first in history. A man and his warship are to be lawfully wedded.

She scoffs. While she's not surprised that someone else is first, she's still surprised that it's Mutsu, rather than Kongou, as she long suspected. It's a Big Seven day, and even the hyperactive battlecruiser is toning it down. More will no doubt follow in the coming months and years.

Except her, it seems like.

"I'm incredibly busy."

"You're not my type."

Even when she tried to do things right, nothing worked. Nobody appreciated her, save her sisters. Not in that way, though, which was fine. She brushes a few locks of wavy brown hair away from her face and lets out a sigh. Richardson and Mutsu deserve to make one another happy, though. Maybe one day she would be at that altar. But her gloved hand lacks a ring, reminding her that such a day seems further and further away.

"And he's single~!"

Her ears pick up the teasing call from the hapless cameraman Naka brought along. She catches scent. A lanky young man. If Ooyodo had an American counterpart, he would be it. She could see the two together, but Goto's secretary was too busy stuffing her face full of coffee and paperwork to even give a damn about finding someone. Not that she would complain. It meant a chance to correct a wrong.

Her russet brown eyes scan him from head to toe, but being a submarine crewman, from what the cameraman mentioned, he's on high alert. While he doesn't openly show it, he's on edge, unused to being surrounded by people, and by so much power. He heard what the cameraman said, too. A sonobuoy dropped right on his head. He knows that any number of the others here will gun for him the first chance they get, save the Bride, for obvious reasons and Kongou, whose heart was set on her Admiral from Day One. His walking is stiff, his head tries not to swivel around too much.

Worthy prey for this Hungry Wolf, perhaps?

He's clearly nervous, but she would go easy on him if it means Victory.

The sharks were no doubt catching scent, but she had it first. A few others eye him much like a box of gourmet chocolates. She isn't in the mood to share. It's all or nothing.

The ceremony passes without incident. Admiral Richardson and Mutsu are now the first Man and Ship to be wedded, and again, the first of many. The other groomsmen pass down the aisle behind the newlywed couple, already expecting children. She wants kids. But that won't happen unless she finds someone.

The other groomsmen are escorted by the bridesmaids present. And he was escorted by her. The Standard, the Martyr. He's even more on edge, the scent of dread wafting through the air, barely noticeable amidst the smell of love. Even the cameraman is aware she has the sailor's scent, giving her a knowing look. Said sailor, Hunter, is probably coming up with an evasion plan, either from Arizona, or from the wolfpack of ships that would no doubt gun for him.

But the Hunter is about to become the Hunted. There is a small irony to it. A submarine had claimed her before she could reach Myoukou, trapped with Takao in besieged Singapore. And now she is about to go after someone who serves aboard one, one that could tear her original hull asunder and sink her escorts in a heartbeat.

Dangerous prey, but Victory would be more than worth it. She would need to outwit her competition, beat them, and ensure that her target would be unable to escape to deep waters, where he could evade his pursuers. It's a game of Four-Dimensional Chess, as someone online said. Not only would she need to know where to put her pieces, but when.

She takes inventory. She knows herself well, what parts of her stand out. And her dress is wisely chosen. Just enough of her to entice, to lure. But merely luring him may not be enough. Given the fact that she has competition in the form of several other ships, she may have to go for a direct attack.

She gives him one direct look, letting him see the insatiable hunger in her eyes before he exits the door.

"I'm on the hunt, I'm after you~."

 

[CompassJimbo]

Old Iron approved!

[=]

The outside to the Auditorium is increasingly packed as I slowly weave my way through the crowds, careful not to trip over a set of wires. I never did well in crowds like this. A mass of humanity, threatening to squeeze me until I pop just so that they could catch even a glimpse of what was about to happen inside. Even news crews are present, only held back by a line of MPs.

'Easy, James.' I think to myself. My sister's helped out in more than one wedding. If anyone should be here, it's her. Not me. Not the guy who'd rather be buried in his headphones monitoring the Waterfall and keeping an ear out for any kind of contact. And yet they decided that I would be a good groomsman. At least I have an occasion to break out my Dress Whites, and the combo cover has a good weight to it.

The guy in front of me is Chair Force, and probably the tallest son of a bitch I've ever seen. The kind of guy who would kick my ass and not even notice. Which calls into question as to why he was flying planes instead of doing something where he wouldn't be squished into a cockpit. Or maybe I'm being presumptuous.

Behind me is a somewhat high-ranking officer in the Army. A ring adorns his finger, and I wouldn't be surprised if his spouse is inside. He gives me a friendly smile and a pat on the shoulder before I turn around and keep walking.

The aisle is thankfully less crowded, with room to actually breathe for once. And yet I'm still nervous. My eyes dart, and my mind makes notes of each contact I see and hear. Master One, Nagara-class CL, Master Seven, Akizuki-class DD. Ships that posed a serious threat to those who came before me, in their cramped Gato and Tench-class subs, and ones whose dark counterparts can't be stopped by more modern 688s and 774s because of complete bullshit.

Had our SSNs been able to do their jobs and kill the fuck out of everything, the War would have been over in two months and a whole bunch of subs would be covered from nose to screw with tallies of dead U-Boats. But there was no use raging against whatever asshole sent these freaks forth. It'll get its due at some point, hopefully in the form of an ADCAP or a successor that works.

It's supposed to be a happy occasion, after all. The Admiral in charge, a man named Richardson, decided that he was in love with his flagship and promptly torpedoed her and put two on the slips. If there was one good thing about this, it was the idiotic puns.

In the corner of my eye, I can see Naka and some bald guy manning an oversize camera. Were they trying to get this thing filmed in IMAX!? Who did she think she was, Christopher Nolan?

"And he's single!" The cameraman shouts.

I know he's talking about me. I can feel several pairs of eyes on me. They don't even need to transmit active sonar. They have visual contact and regular surface radar if their vision is obscured by someone else hoping to have a crack at me. That, and there's a sonobuoy right above my head.

I think back to high school, and how I was a timid bastard when it came to sex and relationships. Popular thanks to my wit, yet afraid that I would hurt someone if I made a move or accepted an offer. My parents weren't too eager to see me date someone at the time, either. So I simply read up on stuff. People may have the right to be ignorant, but they have no excuse nowadays. But I still kept my distance, unsure of what would happen once I started treading that unknown ground.

It feels surreal to have this kind of attention and lack any kind of direction.

I'd rather deal with them on my own terms rather than have to fend off a group trying to turn my life into one of the harem shows destroying anime, though. I know they'll make their move at the reception, in unfamiliar ground for me. If it were back home, I'd already have three or four escape routes planned, thanks to the home field advantage. Instead, I'm going to be in a corner, and the only thing worse than amorous Shipgirls are heartbroken ones.

James Hunter, single and now prey for any number of Shipgirls. Ironic considering my last name. Yet how could I turn the tables?

I remember that I'm coming up on the altar and promptly take my place. There is no God anymore, only SECNAV, and He decided to send one of His Own to ensure that Man and Battleship are lawfully wedded. I don't question it, even though I could have sworn that officers have no right to conduct weddings. But this War has thrown the Rulebook well beyond the window. I briefly look at my finger, imagining what it would look like with a little gold ring adorning it. I can't help but imagine the name of whoever I marry inscribed on it. The question is, who?

I can't help but feel that I'll get an answer to that question very soon. Admiral Richardson has already taken his place. I resist the urge to snap to salute. Now isn't the occasion. But he looks sharp for a middle-aged man who's had to wage a full-scale war against eldritch monstrosities that threaten to kill everyone, using girls and women in miniskirts.

Speaking of, they're starting to come down the aisle, the Bridesmaids. Each and every one of them a Shipgirl of all shapes and sizes save for auxiliaries, carriers, heavy cruisers, and amphibious assault ships. The organist plays the usual wedding song, but something else entirely plays in my head. I can't help but imagine myself aboard a dwarf SSN of some sort while the full-size hulls pull into port for the occasion.

Each is majestic in their own right. Even if they're not the graceful titans of a bygone era, each carries an air of dignity and raw power about them. It makes me wonder what it would be like to see our fleet return. Even if our mighty wall of Essex CVs didn't return, it'd still be nice to see the ponderous Standards as one big group, and an endless horde of Fletcher DDs screening them.

Speaking of Standards, apparently Arizona is among the Bridesmaids. I can faintly make out scars on her person, but I'm silently amazed to see the redhead in proud shape instead of a rusty, leaky wreck, one of only two places that America considers Holy Ground.

New Jersey comes up shortly after, and instead of being a foul-mouthed love letter to 1980s-era Reaganism, is instead a truly dignified Sea Queen in her elegant dress. Her blonde hair cascades down her back like a golden waterfall, and even Yuudachi looks amazing, with a bit of a warrior's air about her.

Richardson's daughter takes up the rear, alongside Shinano and a pair of subs. The Yamato sister looks so young for someone who's so massive, and yet she carries herself with silent pride, befitting of a ship that was to be Japan's Pride and Joy. But Jane Richardson…

I've heard rumors about how much power she has with zero rank whatsoever. If I go career, she's definitely going to be a pain in the ass for me when she finally gets out of Annapolis. Any other school won't fit for her. She is the Navy, much like Palpatine is the Senate.

But all of that pales compared to the Woman of the Hour.

Mutsu.

She looks almost Angelic in her wedding dress, almost glowing, not from her pregnancy, but from something else. Is this the power of Love?

She steps up to the altar, gently hugging and placing a small kiss on Jane. Everyone is on the verge of tears, including myself. I take a moment to remove my glasses and wipe at my eye. It's a sight that radiates purity, even if these circumstances would have been seen as far from it, in a bygone era.

SECNAV's Agent conducts the ceremony while myself and the other groomsmen stand at attention. Mom's probably watching Naka's livestream, proud of how far I've come. Of course, Richardson needs a small reminder that he's getting married in the form of Hiei ramming a knee against his ass. We laugh before the proceedings continue.

My heart races. I'm bearing direct witness to history, here. I struggle to keep my breathing under control and ensure that this is a dignified occasion. The Admiral deserves as much. But there's a feeling that there's so much more. Mutsu isn't going to be the last of these girls to be married. That much is obvious. I heard that someone over in Washington State was in a lesbian relationship with, funnily enough, the state's namesake battlewagon. Curious, though ultimately unsurprising these days.

It's inevitable that the heavier ships will eventually find someone to love and marry, but what of the lighter ones, the destroyers and subs? None were older than high school age at most. Would they be able to grow up? Or would they be stuck forever young, and on their own?

I barely hear the words of the ceremony. So much is going through my mind.

Eventually we come to the final part, where the two seal the deal. The two kiss, only for Mutsu to turn what was supposed to be a simple gesture into a moment of passion. I can swear that I can see the outline of her tongue against his cheek before the two break off.

I groan a little. Save it for after you two get home, then have your fun.

Everyone claps, including myself. After years of struggle and loss, it's about damned time that we get something genuinely happy to witness. The two make their way down, followed by their entourage. The airman, Iberez, I think his name is, links his arm with Jintsuu while Kawakaze follows. As I make my way to the steps, I remember that I'm with Arizona.

I do my damndest not to freak as I take her arm. Shimakaze follows the two of us, and I can feel barely-contained energy emanating from her. At least she looks more modest than usual. However, Arizona is the Standard, and a Martyr on top of it. And yet she's a person at the end of the day, in spite of the scars. Being a Standard, she and I make our way out at a leisurely pace, not even at her normal cruising speed. She looks at me and I give a small, awkward smile. The fact that I'm still escorting a damned War Hero is further complicated by the fact that several Shipgirls are threatening to transmit active sonar on me.

But I catch scent of something. No, someone. I'm being tracked by a starving beast. A Hungry Wolf. My eyes briefly meet those of the youngest Myōkō, and all I see is desire, framed by wavy brown hair and drawing my attention towards that purple dress of hers, tailored to show off her fairly generous curves. And I can faintly pick up her words, dripping with lust.

"I'm on the hunt, I'm after you~."

My mind goes to the last words of a certain space Australian- 'Well I'm right fucked, aren't I?'

Daylight can't come soon enough as I exit the auditorium, taking deep breaths amidst the fresh air. For a given value of "fresh". This is a major port and naval base, after all. I do my best to smile and wave at the cameras, alongside Arizona.

"Are you nervous about something, Petty Officer?" The redhead asks.

Her reputation is the least of my problems, even if it's a story to cherish. "I have a feeling that I'm about to have a rough evening." I reply. It's a small weight off my shoulders. "Several of them…"

"Were eyeing you like a box of donuts." Arizona finishes. "Trust me, this isn't the first time I've dealt with people who've gotten too lonely."

"Try not to be too slo~ow about it~!" Shimakaze sing-songs. I turn around. Her distinctive bunny ears are still there, but she's in a much more modest dress than what she usually wears. Could a subject change be in order?

"Not the first time I've had to make quick decisions, Shima." I counter. "Also, that dress of yours is lovely."

"I helped pick it out." Arizona smiles.

"My sister would have made a similar choice if she were in your position." I add. "Shame she isn't here. She would have loved to see something like this, if it wasn't for the fact that there's a rather large amount of firepower present."

"She's uncomfortable with us?" The Standard asks, surprised.

"It's a long story." I say. "But you girls kind of shattered her worldview. Granted, she isn't the only one, but it's rather disturbing to see her just blankly pretend that the Navy has this whole thing handled conventionally, rather than accept that you girls are mankind's best hope of kicking the asses of these freaks."

The Standard and even Shimakaze are taken aback.

"She… she thinks we're a publicity stunt?"

"Considering that you girls are Michael Bay's wet dream between your supernaturally good looks and highly-compressed firepower, it'd be hard not to see it if it wasn't for the fact that you girls are winning battles on your own. Repeatedly." I dryly remark. "The fact that I'm probably going to be forced to leave the reception with one of you as a girlfriend isn't going to help. Or will it? Fuck if I know."

I hear footsteps behind me. Heavy, but not with thousands of tons of armor and guns weighing them down. An Admiral.

I turn around and snap to salute. It's the Japanese one, Goto. Wait, he's a member of a foreign service. I lower my hand, eliciting a chuckle from the man.

"Leaving with a girlfriend?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. Kongou pops up, not even making a sound before I see her beaming face and flowing brown hair. Mutsu may have been an Angel during the wedding, but Kongou gave off that air, too. Everything about her came off about as soft as one, even.

"Perhaps there's even more Burning Love in the air~?" She asks, grinning.

"I came here expecting a wedding and food." I tell the battlecruiser. "Not someone wishing to experience modern torpedo warfare."

The two chuckle, and I can feel heat behind me, no doubt from Arizona. The woman has a certain reputation, ironic considering that little incident back in the 30s. But perhaps understandable. Even today, the Navy wouldn't be terribly fond of people sneaking hookers aboard their ships.

"And who do you suspect desires a night battle?" Goto asks me.

"I picked up more than a few pairs of eyes. One of the Akizuki sisters, who I'm going to have to shoot down on principle, Kinu, like, two or three others. But one stood out."

"Ashigara, I presume?" He asks, giving a knowing smirk.

"How'd you guess?"

"Because she's eyeing you right now."

I turn around and spot the Myōkō sister waving at me while she meanders her way towards the reception hall. I can see the faint glint of sparkles in her eyes.

"This is going to be interesting." I state with dread.

"While I can't exactly order you, I still suggest that you talk to her."

My eyebrow raises up. "You're suggesting that I let her smother me?"

"I'm suggesting that you give her something to chase after, if only so that I don't have to hear her complain about how she can't land a boyfriend. And do be aware that she'll be on patrol this evening, so you won't have to deal with her for long."

I'm stupefied at the moment. Let someone chase after me to the ends of the Earth? For god's sake…

"The reception's in less than an hour. We probably shouldn't wait." Arizona remarks, breaking the silence.

"R-right." I stutter.

Goto and Kongou practically rush ahead, leaving me with the ponderous Standard and her lightning fast escort.

"So, where were we? Something about a publicity stunt?" Shimakaze asks.

"Yes." Arizona remembers. "Your sister believes us to be actors? Then what of the Abyssals?"

"She doesn't think about it. She thinks that it's just a normal war or something." I inform the two. "When I asked about who she thinks we're at war with, she vaguely says 'somebody', and calls me an idiot for joining the Navy. Ironically, she was the most stable of my family before the war broke out." I sigh. "Mom's somewhat okay with what's going on, and she took my sister to a shrink, but the guy simply said that she's just in overwhelming denial. Fuck, why am I even saying this? The Navy has shrinks, too."

The two just look at me, unsure what to say.

"Part of me just wants to sit on my boat and quietly mope about how fucked up things have gotten on my homefront. In a way, you're lucky that you're just ships given human form rather than people with families in some house or apartment somewhere." I tell them. "God knows how people would react if you lot lived lives as regular people before now."

There was a rumor that Richardson's previous, late wife was our first carrier, Langley, though anyone who looked into it repeatedly ran into dead ends. Maybe that explained why Enterprise, Essex, and our small horde of Clevelands and Baltimores had yet to return. I'll be damned if I know. I didn't rank high enough for this kind of shit.

"I still had a mother of my own, of sorts." Arizona says quietly. "Utah. One of our first dreadnoughts. She was almost like Connie, in a way. Wise, helpful. When we worried about something, she would help assuage our fears. On the rare occasion that we tried to talk to our crews and failed, she would tell us that we would eventually find someone who could see and hear us."

Her tone is whimsical, nostalgic.

"And what about you, Speedy Gonzales?" I ask Shimakaze. "Anyone you considered a mom?"

"I didn't really have one." She quickly cuts me off.

"Right, right." I say, rubbing my temple. Most of her comrades had sunk by that point, beneath an endless tide of American steel. "Sorry about that."

It's strange to think that ships had other ships they considered mothers. Considering they couldn't reach their crews, they sure as hell didn't have fathers, unless Enterprise somehow made Halsey see her, much like in Destiny.

"It's fine."

The crowd is well ahead of us as we stroll towards the reception area at a leisurely pace.

I sigh. "At least I can happily tell any kids I have that I was paired up with one of America's biggest War Heroes for this." I say with a small smile. "That'll be a memory to cherish."

"I'm sure they'll be proud of you." The redhead tells me, smiling. She looks nice with one, I'll admit.

"And what about me?" Shimakaze asks.

"I'll tell them that I was escorted by Japan's answer to Ricky Bobby." I quip. I'm sorely tempted to say something less savory, but I cull my tongue on that.

The blonde raises an eyebrow. "Who's Ricky Bobby?"

I laugh a little. "You really need to see Talladega Nights. Ricky's much like you, wants to go fast."

Her eyes light up slightly, bringing a smile to my face. Though part of me can't help but get a feeling that I'll regret this.

Arizona finds herself pondering it. Meanwhile, my mind drifts towards Ashigara, and how the Hungry Wolf has decided that I'd be fair game. What would happen if she finally caught me? How the hell would I tell my family that I wound up with a Japanese CA as a fianceè or a spouse, in such a case?

"Oh hi, Mom. This is my wife, Ashigara."

Her coffee mug spills. My sister balks at how I wound up with someone who admittedly looked like she could model for Victoria's Secret before it finally hits her that she's in the presence of, not a well-paid actress, but a 15,000 ton warship.

"Ahh, hi." X)

The mental image is cringeworthy at best, but since she's been sicced on me, it seems to be all but an inevitability. Yet would I truly love her? Or would it merely be pity considering she has a reputation for having zero luck on the dating scene?

As the three of us enter the reception hall, I guess I'll have to find out.

 

[theJMPer]

Heavy cruisers Atago and Maya were unquestionably sisters. Both had the exact same build, identical save for the handful of tiny variations that creep in as yard engineers fix small problems and dock-workers take liberties to streamline production. Both carried the same three/two split main battery. Both cruisers had a silhouette dominated by a vast monolithic pyramid of a superstructure. Both had the same wing-mounted catapults amidships and the same smartly-raked fore-funnel. In every way known to naval engineering, the two ships were unquestionably sisters.

But, if the two were removed far enough that only one could be observed at a time, even the most astute student of human nature would be hard pressed to identify them as even distant relatives. Their bodies might be nigh-on identical, but every other detail couldn't be more different.

Atago's hair was sunkissed blond, Maya's a nondescript brown. Atago dressed at all times in the prim and proper dress uniform of her class. Her angle-length coat was buttoned tightly over her chubby middle and tailored just as smartly over her infamously top-heavy hull form. A crisply-tied cravat and sunny smile completed the dressy white-tie appearance.

Maya, meanwhile, preferred the simpler pt uniform of her class. A shapeless, sleeveless sailor-top in simple blue minimized her impressive bust and drew more attention to her well-muscled arms. Her neckerchief was simple red, and often tied only with the laziest of knots, and her plain white skirt was paired with a perpetually semi-interested scowl.

It made Alaska's head hurt just looking at the two sisters, which is why she'd excused herself to go cuddle her adoptive momboat in a sunbeam at the first chance she got. Atago, however, was going to enjoy every second she had to spend with her sister.

The first order of business had been, of course, food. The last time Maya ate anything was all the way over in Japan, and even then it was only a few morsels to tide her over until her convoy reached the states. Atago would not let that stand, and she'd booked a table at her favorite restaurant weeks in advance.

It was a nice place right on the Mississippi, and they served the most amazing crawfish. Atago liked crawfish because they were delicious. Alaska liked them because once she'd gotten the meat out she could play with the still-jointed shell. It was a meal and a toy all in one.

"Okay, I'll give you this," Maya picked her teeth with a claw she'd torn off a crawfish currently residing in her belly. "These are good."

"I know!" Atago beamed and balanced a corncob between her gloved fingers. American food wasn't the easiest thing to eat while remaining prim and proper, but it just felt like love on a plate. "So… how's Japan?"

Maya slouched in her chair and shrugged. "Same. Worse, maybe. I dunno, I was only there for a few days. Saw Choukai though."

"Oh?" Atago somehow perked up more than she already was. "And?"

"She's doing good," said Maya. "Sends her best and all that."

Atago smiled, but didn't say anything. For a long while, the two sisters ate in happy silence. There wasn't much Atago could talk about without driving her tomboyish sister insane, and the situation wasn't much improved in the other direction. But Maya was her little sister, and Atago was happy just to be spending some time with her. And she could tell that Maya was enjoying it too.

"So," Maya was the first to break the silence. "Think, uh, we could hit the base sometime?"

"Sure," said Atago, silently re-arranging her plans for the evening. She never knew quite what Maya would be in the mood for, so she always drew up several dozen contingencies for every possibility.

"Cool," said Maya. "I hear Sara's got a brace of peacemakers and I've been dying to get my hands on a wheel gun."

Atago smiled. Introducing her sister to her friends would just make her day! "Sure, I think Miss Sara doesn't have any duties. If she does, there's a few ranges in town."

Maya chuckled to herself. "Thanks, sis."

Atago beamed, "No problem, little sister."

—|—|—
Gale knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was pregnant. Not because she'd gone to the OB/GYN for a checkup, scheduling a checkup had been surprisingly difficult. Nor was it because of the destroyers' habit of snuggling her middle and cooing sweet—yet horrifyingly violent—nothings into her bellybutton like it was some kind of speaking tube. Not even was it because of the tiny spark of life the sailor could feel growing deep inside her womb.

No, Gale knew she was pregnant because she had an irresistible craving for liver. She'd never had the slightest inclination to try the legendarily-horrible foodstuff before, but for the past few days every time she closed her eyes all she could see was a heaping plate of fried chicken-liver chili. It wasn't nearly as pleasant of a mental image as the one of Wash lounging on the bed naked save for a few strategically-placed and rather sheer sheets that Gale normally daydreamed of.

Gale finally gave in to her cravings and ordered a plate for dinner. It was surprisingly not bad. A little… odd on her tongue, but it made her cravings vanish like ice-cubes on Wash's delightful little tummy.

"Hey, Doc?" Gale glanced at her dinner companion for the first time in a while. She hadn't been spending quite as much time with the academic as she used to—mostly because Wash had been around and the stoic battleship was surprisingly frisky under the right circumstances—but she could tell there was something a little off about him. "You, uh… doing okay?"

Crowning shrugged. "It's nothing," he said. "I… assume you know about Jersey?"

Gale nodded. "'bout everyone on base knows by now, you two were so sweet." She decided not to mention how much money she'd lost on the breakup. Or how, somehow, freaking Hibiki made out like a bandit.

The professor shrugged again. "It's for the best, probably," he admitted. "Wasn't exactly a healthy relationship."

"Still cute though," Gale popped a morsel of liver in her mouth. And promptly gagged when she remembered that, delicious or not, she was eating liver. "Ah, um… so… you going to head back east?"

Crowning shot her a look. "Why would I do that?"

"Didn't you come here for her?" asked Gale. It wasn't the furthest someone had gone for a girl, but it had to be up there. Then again, most girls don't have butts like the big Iowa. "Jersey, I mean."

"What, and leave you?" Crowning leaned back in his chair with a smile. "Or Kirishima, she might have a one-track pen, but she's suprisingly well-read."

Gale smirked and made a few mental notes. She might've lost on the Jerseybowl, but here's hoping she could make her money back with Kirishima. "That so?"

Crowning nodded, clearly oblivious to the sailor's salacious smirk. "And… you know Dee comes by and asks for a bedtime story before every patrol?" He chuckled, "The whole squadron cuddling with hot coco and marshmallows." He trailed off with a wistful sigh. "I came here for Jersey, but I got so much more."

"Fair enough," Gale smiled and lazily stirred her dinner. "So, you hear the latest from the gulf?"

"Sister Sara?" Crowning nodded. His romance with Jersey might've fizzled out, but from what he heard, America's first battlecruiser to return had a burning romance of truly nuclear proportions. "You should have heard Kirishima squeal."

"So that's what that was," said Gale. The littlest Kongou was just as obsessed with love as her big sister, and just as happy when other people found it.

—|—|—
Saratoga had been slightly skeptical when Alaska had described napping in a sunbeam as 'the most relaxing activity you will ever do in the history of ever.' She'd chalked the superlatives up to enthusiasm born from the large cruiser's incredible youth and let it pass with a smile. But when 'Laska found a sunny patch of grass on-base and urged Sara to lay down, the big battlecruiser realized Alaska hadn't been overselling a thing.

If anything, 'laska had massively understated just how gloriously comfortable a good sun-warmed nap was. The battlecruiser sprawled out on the grass, her long pale legs soaking in the rays as a gentle breeze washed through her long hair.

Alaska lay at an angle, her snowy head resting on Sara's trim tummy. Every so often, when Sara's ample chest fell in time with her breathing, she'd catch a glimpse of the napping cruiser's contended smile. Sara giggled and idly curled 'Laska's long snowy hair between her fingers. She didn't have any children—yet, she was hoping to change that before too long—but she couldn't help but think of 'Laska as her daughter.

Of course, it didn't hurt that 'Laska did everything in her power to slide into that role.

"You like her, don't you?" Said the oak-and-honey voice of Daniel Stewart. At 'Laska's stern insistence, his head rested on her soft breast. The large cruiser had claimed it was the most comfortable and enjoyable activity anyone could ever experience, but Sara wasn't sure if she was talking to her or Daniel. She couldn't speak for the author, but Sara knew having just the thin gray fabric of her blouse separating her skin from his sent shivers up her keel.

"I do," Sara smiled and tousled 'Laska's snowy tresses. A sleepy giggle wandered through the cruiser's lips and she rolled over to snuggle Sara's softest parts. "Do you blame me?"

Stewart raised his head off Sara's breast for a moment, and a handful of faeries with line-throwing guns hurriedly assembled on the battlecruiser's sternum. "Can't say I do," he said, reaching over to scratch 'Laska behind the ear.

'Laska giggled in her sleep, and her nose tickled at the underside of Sara's massively trunked stacks.

"She's very—ow!" Stewart jerked as a minute harpoon sailed through the lobe of his ear. Sara giggled as a platoon of minute fae bounced on her sternum with glee, allowing themselves a moment of celebration before hauling Stewart's head back where it belonged.

Sara just patted her chest and smiled.

"My lady," Stewart rolled his eyes and went back to cuddling the massive warship. Even with his head on her breast, his feet barely reached hers. He glanced over to the miniature sailors. "You guys mind?"

After a moment's pause—and a stern look from Sara—the faeries huffed and removed the harpoon. It was easier said than done, Sara's bustline offered a very sheer, very unstable climb to even get close. Many faeries lost their grip and fell back to the giggling battlecruiser's collar.

Sara didn't know how long they lay there, and she didn't really care. Soaking in the sun, watching the clouds pass overhead… it felt peaceful. Right. It didn't help that the man using her breast as a pillow was the one she'd had all those dreams about.

But eventually the silence was broken with the triumphant "Panapakpan~" of the Japanese heavy cruiser Saratoga had learned to love. Maybe not not love like a daughter—Atago was far less childish than 'Laska—but lone none the less.

"Hello, dear," Sara waved with the hand not occupied with feeling the shape of Stewart's butt.

"Hello, Miss Sara." Atago bowed low from the waist. "This is my sister, Maya."

"Oh," Saratoga glanced over at… at a ship that was most certainly Atago's sister, but in a way that made her brain ache to think about. "Pleasure to meet you, Maya."

"Same," said Maya. "So, um… I heard you've got peacemakers."

"Walkers, actually." Saratoga summoned one of the massive revolvers and spun it grip-first towards the Japanese cruiser.

"Wow," Maya's facade cracked and she cooed like a schoolgirl. "It's so big," she let the gun sit in her hand. "So fucking big…"

"I could take you shooting," Sara idly played with Alaska's snowy hair. She could tell the large cruiser was only pretending to sleep now, probably because looking at Atago and Maya in close proximity would damage her already fragile mind. She glanced over at Stewart with a grin. "Give you two some time together~" she ended with a teasing hitch.

She didn't know how much Stewart was involved, but she'd caught Hamakaze with an operations briefing—signed with 'Laska's trademark chunky cursive—labeled "Operation: Get Mom Laid". Judging by the stifled giggle from 'laska, the large cruiser caught what Sara was insinuating, even if Stewart didn't.

The author smiled the oblivious smile of a man lacking the slightest idea of how thoroughly his loins are owned by another woman-who-is-also-a-warship. "Sure."

"Cameron's bringing his old en-sixty-four," said Alaska. "You should come." She looked over at him. "He said it's old, but good. Like you."

Stewart chuckled and helped the large cruiser up. "That sounds like fun."

'Laska made her goodbyes to the other warships, and skipped off with her usual rubber-band trot.

—|—|—
Much to Sara's annoyance, Maya took to the massive revolver like it was second nature. She had a little trouble dealing with the prodigious recoil of course, but her small groups were still dead-eye accurate. To the point where it was seriously frustrating for the former carrier.

"I can see why cowboys liked these," Maya twirled the empty gun around her finger and caught it with the heel of her hand. "Very smooth."

"Thank you," Sara returned the gun to its leather home on her hip. "Or rather… thank BuOrds." The battlecruiser blushed. She couldn't believe she'd just said that. And meantit this time.

"Like that's gonna happen," said Maya with a smirk. "Hey, I'm starving. You wanna hit up the mess?"

Sara beamed. She'd been trying to hold in her rumbling gut, but the big battlecruiser's turbo-electric drive burned through oil like… well, like a massive steam-driven power plant. "Very much so, yes." She let her guns vanish with a breath of wind and lead the way.

'Laska and Cameron were in the corner of the mess, huddled around a television. The two had slowly assembled quite the gaming lounge by the simple expedient of sneaking consoles and soft chairs in one at a time over a period of weeks, and making 'Laska do her irresistible large-cruiser-eyes whenever they were questioned. But suprisingly, neither one of them was playing.

Instead, Stewart was in the driver's seat, and he seemed to be doing quite well.

"Oh!" Maya perked right up when she saw what was going on. "Ocarina of time! This game is the best!"

Stewart chuckled. "Used to love it when I was younger," he didn't even look at the misshapen controller as his fingers danced over the buttons with practiced ease. "Never could get past the water temple though."

Maya howled with laughter and threw herself on a couch, dinner tray balanced preciously on her middle.

Sara, though, was too entranced by the game to even think of eating. Her jaw slowly slackened as she drew nearer, captivated by the bright colors and fascinating gameplay. Her attention was so captured, she didn't even realize her colossal bosom had become a warm, soft hat for Stewart to wear.

He seemed to enjoy it though.

 

[theJMPer]

Jersey had forgotten how much she absolutely fucking despised wearing her dinner dress uniform. Her ruffled tuxedo-pleated blouse was too crisp and starched for her to move comfortably in, and even standing perfectly made the fabric annoyingly tight in all the wrong places. The collar was too snug to accommodate Jersey's prodigiously developed neck muscles, and the less said about her triceps the better. And it was fucking white too, which meant Jersey couldn't wear any of her usual antifouling-red bras.

Which would've been okay, if there was a single fucking bra anywhere in the entire goddamn country that actually fit her. The subs had tried their best, but 'fuckhuge amazon' just wasn't a size you could find in short notice. In desperation, she eventually settled for having Hiei bind them down with some white bandages. It looked right under her blouse, but it still bothered the battleship to no end. Not only did she feel the tension every time she took a breath, she'd just gotten her bunkers enlarged.

At least her cropped jacket was worn open, which mitigated some of the problems her objectively and scientifically awesome rack caused. But it was also loaded down with a shockingly huge rack of miniature medals. All that off-center weight was pulling her jacket off balance, making the battleship even more painfully aware of how many decorations she was displaying. Decorations that… in her opinion she hadn't really earned. Yes, she'd been present at the events they commemorated, but it was her crew who actually won them.

She tried to rationalize that she was just promoting her crews' valor to a wider audience, but that explanation rang hollow in her own bridge. Especially now that she was surrounded by so many sailors and soldiers that they actually had earned.

Oh, and she was wearing a fucking tiara. Jersey was honestly astonished the goddamn thing was even still regulation. Apparently the navy agreed with her, there'd been a push to get rid of it, but then the war broke out and the brass had better things to do with their time. Which meant, hidden in the dusty back annex of some half-forgotten regulation manual, the dinner-dress tiara was still on the books. Which would have been fine, except somehow Jane found out and asked Jersey if she'd wear one.

Jersey absolutely fucking despised the idea of parading around in a fucking tiara. Again. But she just couldn't say no to the littlest—for a while at least—Richardson's pleas. If Jane asked her to wear a tiara, Jersey would wear a fucking tiara. Hell, it if was for Mutsu, she'd even fucking like it. Or at least try to hate every second with something less than the full fury she was capable of producing.

At the very least, her outfit wasn't nearly as humiliatingly salacious as the goddamn tits-out thigh-high rig she wore during the war. She… would admit she picked the braless scoop-neck gown in the hopes that an 'ill timed' nipple slip might shock Admiral Halsey into directing his undying love towards her instead of Enterprise—or at least making him acknowledge her presence. But how in the flying fuck had she ever thought garter-belted thigh-highs and a dress slit up to her ribs was a good idea?

Jersey scowled and swirled the last dregs of strawberry punch around in her plastic cup. It might be delicious, but it as fucking hard to brood while sipping something so pink Jersey couldn't even find a meaningful comparison. "It this seriously the manliest shit you have?"

A miniature simulacrum of battleship Mutsu, one that lacked the bigger version's flowing curves and noticeably pregnant belly, but made up for it with adorably squished proportions, glanced up from the tiny paddle board she'd been rowing around the punch bowl in. "Muu~" she said.

Jersey narrowed her eyes. "Are you sure?" She idly flicked at a bunch of cranberries floating in the sickeningly pink punch bowl.

"Mu!" Minimu crossed her stumpy arms with resolution.

Jersey scowled. "You and I need to have a discussion about what manly drinks are."

"Muuuu~"

"Don't sass me," Jersey poked Minimu in her little tummy, sending the little battleship tumbling to her tush as her raft glided lazily backwards. She was going to add another cutting retort, when she noticed something. The ripples from Minimu's raft had dislodged a clump of cranberries, but something that had been hiding among the clutter hadn't moved at all.

It looked… almost like a very small periscope. In fact, it looked exactly like a very small periscope. An exact duplicate of the ones fleet boats carried during the war. Jersey smiled, and a quick run of her tongue along her teeth confirmed that every last one had turned into a gleaming razor-sharp canine. "Ssh." She sushed Minimu and quietly fished a cranberry out of her own cup.

The small battleship glanced from Jersey to the periscope and nodded.

The bigger battleship carefully maneuvered her gloved hand with the delicacy of a brain surgeon. She craned her neck to make sure her aim was true, then let the berry fall with a quiet 'plop.'

The periscope hastily cranked underwater with a comical pop, and its owner crash-dove for the pinkish depths. Which would have worked better if the punch bowl wasn't punch-bowl sized and made of glass. A second later, a tiny figure in a white-on-gray swimsuit and punch-logged pants that looked like the'd been stolen from a doll house slammed into the glass with a quiet 'tink.'

"Fucking submarines," Jersey scowled. "Hey," she tapped a finger against the glass to get the sub's attention.

The sub froze, slowly drifting place without moving a muscle. Even her small chest was still as the grave as she rigged for silent running.

"I can see you, you little shit," said Jersey.

The submarine sighed, and slumped her little shoulders.

"Jane know you're around?"

The submarine shook her head.

"Want to keep it that way?"

"Mu!" Protested minimu.

"You," Jersey shifted her gaze to the small battleship. "Stay out of this."

"Muuu…"

The submarine nodded.

"Can you make it worth my while?" said Jersey with a smirk.

The submarine thought for a moment, then nodded and pressed a very small bottle against the punchbowl glass. It was too small for Jersey to read any of the soggy label's writing, but the contents were good and amber, which was enough for her.

"Hand it over," said Jersey.

The submarine nodded, and shallowed out. She didn't quite surface though, only her outstretched hand and her deliciously amber gift broached the surface.

Jersey smiled and plucked the thumbnail-sized bottle from the little sub's hand. "Pleasure doing bussines with you."

"Mu~"

"That's not relevant," Jersey bit the top off and spiked her drink as thoroughly as the minute bottle would allow. It wasn't much, but— But over there was that army LTC who'd escorted Kongou off the stage. She forgot his name, but given that he looked like every dad from every sitcom she'd ever watched, she mentally assigned his contact the name 'colonel dad.' More importantly, he was drinking what was clearly a bottled beer. "Mu, what the fuck?"

"Muu~"

"How is that!" Jersey scowled. Mutsu's miniature version had all the real deal's skill with the spoken word. If she was honest, the little battleship's argument was totally logically sound. She just didn't like it. "I hate you."

"Muuuuu."

Jersey rolled her eyes and set a course for beer. It Minimu wasn't going to cooperate, maybe she could count on the army to… to… coopera… fuck, she almost made it through that sentence without giggling. She bit her lip and forced an easy cool back into her powerful stride.

"Colonel," she nodded at the big man leaning against a silver-draped cocktail table. For a moment, she did the same. But the instant her arms touched the small surface, a shriek of buckling metal tore through the hall as her immense weight brought the poor thing well beyond its limits. She jerked back with a stuttering cough before the damage was permanent, but only just.

"Commander," the lieutenant-colonel smiled at Jersey. Then a moment later, he glanced at her bright pink drink and smiled again. "I'm surprised, figured you as more of a beer girl."

Jersey scowled at her painfully girly drink. It was like someone shoved Naka into a blender and added more glitter. "I… am actually, I just have a very small battleship I need to fucking murder."

The colonel chuckled. "Say no more, navy. I'll be right back."

Jersey nodded at him and tossed back her drink as angrily as possible. Which was reallyhard considering how frilly it was.

"Oh," As if summoned from the depths of hell itself, Naka came bouncing over with a smirk on her perfectly made-up face. "Hello, Jersey-chan."

"Go fuck yourself with a rusty chainsaw," said Jersey without missing a beat.

"Glad to know you're having fun," Naka beamed and leaned in for a brief kiss to Jersey's cheek.

Jersey rolled her eyes. "Hey, good work with the livestream."

"Thanks," Naka somehow curtsied in her micro-skirted traffic-cone dress. "Anyway, I'm gonna mingle."

"You do that," Jersey rolled her eyes and chuckled to herself. As Naka bounced off to be annoyingly Japanese somewhere else, the battleship was left alone with her drink and thoughts. Her icy blue eyes lazily perused the crowd. Mutsu and Richardson were at one end of the hall, greeting well-wishers while a cluster of destroyers huddled around the pregnant battleship's middle. The taffies were behaving themselves for once, which was nice. Shinano was… apparently off hiding somewhere, because Jersey couldn't see the littlest Yamato anywhere.

And there was a woman in the crowd who Jersey couldn't stop looking at. A woman who radiated levels of smug that shouldn't be humanly possible to attain.

"Here ya go, navy." Jersey's concentration was broken by the return of the Colonel. And also, by the beer he brought with him. She absentmindedly tore the cap off with her teeth and took a long drink. Not the best she'd ever had, but certainly better than that girly-ass shit Minimu was serving.

"Army," Jersey raised her bottle and tapped it against his with a ring of frosty glass. "That's your wife, right?"

The Colonel chuckled. "Who, the hot one?"

Jersey nodded. "Lucky man."

"You don't even know."

The battleship scoffed. "So… she's human, right?"

The Colonel apparently found that very funny. He almost choked on his drink before responding. "Yeah, human."

"Okay," Jersey sighed, and tried to figure how she'd phrase her next question. "If she's not a boat…" She lazily drew circles with the base of her bottle, "Why does she have pagodas?"

The colonel's response was to spit a mouthful of beer all over the tablecloth and howl with laughter.

 

[B-baka!]

. . .
What have I created? *Facewalls*

This is your fault @theJMPer, you made me do this.

 

[B-baka!]

Say @theJMPer, is it bad if I have summoned the smolprude? Cause she's sitting on my table eating a donut.

Proof:

 

[Skywalker_T-65]

Is it that time again? Yes it is. More Tiger!

A Cat's Family
​

Biting her lip, Amy Kirkpatrick paced in front of the docks. Behind several doors, the person she had wanted to see was resting. And it bugged her. A lot!

Amy had seen Tiger dragged into the docks. She had been waiting at her sister-in-all-but-blood's favorite pier. Had been every day since Tiger had left, to go on that foolish adventure. The arguments she had gotten into with her aunt over that had become legendary among the enlisted. Amy hardly cared. She had been deathly worried, from the moment Tiger had agreed to lead the offensive, that something would happen to the old battlecruiser. She was too idealistic for her own good!

Tiger...why? Why did you let that happen?

It was no exaggeration to say that the young teenager had nearly had a heart attack when Tiger had returned. Covered with blood and carried out of the water by an unusually solemn Australia and a silent Haruna. Amy had tried to get to her sister then. She had screamed Tiger's name, tears running down her face.

But she had been held back by Vampire, the little destroyer shaking her head sadly.

'She needs to go the docks. You have to let her rest.'

She knew that. It didn't matter. Amy had not once left this area outside the docks since Tiger had returned, days ago. Even when Haruna tried to get her to sleep in a proper bed, Amy refused to leave. Tiger was the only sister she had. And she wasn't going to let her be alone. She just...she just wished she could be there with the battlecruiser. Was that so much to ask?

"You know, kid, you're gonna get sore if you keep doing that. Or wear a hole in the floor."

Amy flinched, her shoulder-length black hair flying with the movement. Bright blue eyes turned to glare at an unrepentant battlecruiser, grinning at her cheekily.

"Australia! I told you not to sneak up on me like that!"

The redhead just shrugged, and pulled her bandanna a bit tighter around her short red hair. "Mate, a battleship could sneak up on ya right now. You look like death warmed over."

"I do not!" Even as she said that, Amy grimaced and turned pink. She knew her clothes were ruffled, her t-shirt sticking to her young body while her shorts were a mess. The less said about her hair, the better. And her freckles stuck out on her very pale and tired face. "I'm just..."

"Worried, yeah?" Australia walked up to the teenager, wrapping a lean arm around her shoulders. Squeezing gently, the battlecruiser let her grin be replaced by a soft smile. "Look, kiddo, Tiger's a tough old cat. She won't let something like this keep her down for long, you know that."

Amy sniffled, just a little, "She is, but she's alone in there. Why can't I just sit with her?"

Australia opened her mouth, probably to explain exactly why. Again.

Before promptly shutting it, and sighing heavily. Perhaps it was the real tears in Amy's blue eyes. Maybe it was the sad state the teenager was in. Whatever the reason, the battlecruiser let go of the girl and walked over to the dock entrance. A key flashed in her hand, as she reached down and unlocked it. The sound of a creaking door was enough to snap Amy's eyes over to her.

Wide eyes, while her mouth hung open. "Australia?"

"Mate, you look like a puppy that just got kicked. I can't just leave you like this...and honestly, I think you'll do Tiger some good anyway." Australia's lopsided grin showed how little care she had for the rules. "Now come on, before someone shows up. Don't wanta waste time, do we?"

Waving Amy forward, the battlecruiser was completely silent in shutting the door behind them. The dock's soft flooring was intended to make it easy to walk along it for injured ship girls. Right now, it served a different purpose...namely, keeping their footsteps completely silent. There was no sound beyond Amy's low breathing and the flowing water of the baths.

Tiger...are you going to be awake? Are you going to be better? God, what if you're still hurt...

Biting back a sniffle, the young girl walked into the dock-proper. At the moment, the baths were completely empty. This was the heavy-damage area, while the lighter-duty docks were in a different building. It had been her Aunt's idea, to try and keep a formal system. At the moment, it served only to make sure that Tiger was completely alone.

"Follow me, mate." Australia whispered by Amy's ear, gently tugging the girl forward.

Amy didn't protest at all, letting the battlecruiser drag her along towards the one occupied bath. Where a familiar form lay silent.

"Tiger..."

The teenager's voice didn't go above a pained whisper, when she saw her sister. Tiger lay back against the wall of her bath. Her body was completely uncovered, and her hair undone. Long brown locks floated in the water around her sleeping face, doing little to cover the bandages around her face. Stained red, these bandages did nothing to cover her scars--completely exposed for the first time. Pale, spidery white lines ran down from her neck to the soft curve of her breasts. And Amy knew she was only seeing the front. The back was worse.

If the bloody bandages were any indication, Tiger may yet have more scars to add. Especially if what was visible beneath the water scarred over.

"Bad, innit?" Australia, for perhaps the first time in her life, had no cheer in her voice. The old battlecruiser, older even than Tiger, seemed every bit her age. Even lines were visible beneath her dulled eyes. "I'll be honest, I'm amazed we got her back. She was awake when we found her but--well, you can see. She got shot up pretty bad back in the war, but nothing like this."

Amy couldn't say anything in response. She just walked over to Tiger, slowly and unsteadily, not once tearing her eyes away from the battlecruiser that had become her sister.

Why did this happen? I know I told Tiger that she could do anything if she put her mind to it. But I didn't mean doing something like this! She should have had help!

Despite the very real surge of anger that brought up, Amy didn't snap at Australia or- mentally -Haruna. She knew Tiger wouldn't have accepted the help, and she knew that both of the other ship girls would have offered it. There was no point in snapping at them.

"Hey, Tiger," Amy's voice cracked, as she fell to her bare knees next to the old cat. "Can you hear me, mate?"

As if her voice was a catalyst, one soft brown eye cracked open. A low groan- a strange mix of a boiler coming to life and a normal female voice -echoed over the water, as Tiger's body shifted slightly. That single eye blinking and looking for the source of the noise...until it settled on the sadly smiling teenager.

"Amy?" Tiger's voice, normally so gentle and confident in a quiet sort of way, was barely audible.

It was still enough to make the teenager more genuinely smile. "Yeah, it's me."

With another pained groan, Tiger shifted more in her bath. The battlecruiser didn't notice, or didn't care, that she was stark naked as the day she launched. She just stared, confusion radiating from her single open eye, at the girl next to her. Working her mouth to try and find the words to say.

"Why are you h--here?" The British woman winced with each word, clearly struggling to stay awake. "The Admiral---"

"Forget her!" Amy couldn't help the snap, even if she instantly regretted the look Tiger gave her. Looking down at her hands, Amy shifted uncomfortably. She wrung her hands together. "I--I couldn't leave you here. You're all alone, Tiger! I...we...we're all we have, aren't we? I thought we were sisters?"

Tiger was silent, breathing softly while she stared at the teenager. Whatever she was thinking was hidden behind her dull brown eye and the hair that fell in her face. Until a soft sigh came from her boilers and damaged turbines. A small, but genuine, smile on her face.

"You're right, we're sisters."

It was the first time that Tiger had vocalized that so confidently. Amy was surprised, her mouth opening in a shocked 'O' and her eyes widening. A flush crossing her face.

"Amy," Tiger continued, voice slightly slurred from the pain she was undoubtedly in. "A lot happened while I was out, okay? I'm still trying t--t---to adjust to it all. But I know, now, that you're my sister. Even if I'm a ship and you're not, you're my sister. Yeah?"

The teenager was crimson now, but a happy smile was on her face. "Yeah! And you're not going to get rid of me that easily mate! Even if I have to beg Australia to..."

As she was saying that, Amy turned around to look at the redhead. Only to blink, when she realized that the battlecruiser was gone. She and Tiger were the only ones in the dock.

"Ha," Tiger gave a weak laugh. A small smile crossing her bandaged face, "that wanker always did know how to sneak about."

Amy could only shake her head, "Yeah..."

But then, a smile was on her face too. She turned back to Tiger, determined to make the most of the time she had. Who knew when the battlecruiser would come out, and what she would look like when she did. The new, almost cat-like, tufts on her head were one new thing. No matter how Tiger came out though...

They were family. Blood be damned.​

 

[theJMPer]

It was well past sundown when aircraft carrier Akron pulled into New Orleans. Her patrol had been as boring as usual, but thankfully one of the techs back home had figured out a way to tie her ipod into her electrical system to the battery hadn't run down like last time. She was still happily listening to her latest pop-hits playlist—courtesy of the kitty-ear headphones Elly and the girls had gotten her last Christmas—when she lighted on the grassy courtyard.

The big carrier took a moment to steady herself. The breeze coming off the water was gentle and constant, but she always took a while to get her feet back under her after days in the sky. She yawned, her ears—both her the girlish ones on the sides of her head and the tabby kitty ones on top—popping as she acclimatized to the soupy sea-level air. She rolled her shoulders and stretched her pump arms, pulling her leather flying jacket taunt over her vast—but featherweight—bosom.

With a sigh, the airship smiled and idly pawed at her belly. Her appetite would never even approach the limitless gluttony of even the smaller surface ships—although she tended to be far more picky about what she put into her stomach then them—but she was still hungry. A quiet gurgle was all the urging she needed to set course for the mess hall.

Nobody disturbed her on her journey, which didn't surprise her. There were a few marines still up standing watch, but anyone who didn't have a job to do was probably asleep by now. Akron didn't mind, she was used to being all alone over the Gulf. The airship trimmed her buoyancy a bit, taking all but the last scrap of weight off her heels. Walking everywhere was such a chore, she never understood how the surface ships could tolerate it.

A few moments later, the big carrier glided silently into the mess hall. Even this time of night, there was a full buffet on display for any hungry shipgirl needing to indulge in a little gluttonous feasting. But Akron wasn't your average ship, and the the slop on offer—while unquestionably tasty—was so rich and fattening just looking at it turned the airship's delicate stomach.

With blushing apologies, Akron collected a plate and gingerly picked out the healthiest stuff she could find. After quite a lot of work, she'd assembled a mixed-greens salad with sliced tomatoes and an ice-cold coke. She was careful to make sure it was proper Coca-cola though, with real sugar. Her delicate aviation-engines couldn't tolerate corn-syrup like an oil-fired boiler.

At least she had her meal—meager though it was by shipgirl standards. The airship rolled onto her back, resting her plate on her belly as she lazily costed nowhere in particular. She was two bites into her dinner when she noticed someone else had gotten peckish i the night. She must've been too busy building her salad to notice the newcomer's arrival.

"Hello," Akron waved in the newcomer's general direction and set her rudders for an intercept course. The newcomer waved back with a kind smile. She was a surface ship, judging by her immense plate load of buttered toast and generally boat-shaped figure. An exceptionally busty one at that, although unlike Akron, this girl's breasts actually obeyed the laws of gravity, at least to some minor extent.

"Akron, I assume?" said the gentle-faced girl with a smile. A slim pair of reading glasses were perched on her equally slim nose, and her hair was done back in a lazy ponytail secured by a thick black scrunchy. She probably couldn't sleep, given that she was in her pajamas.

"Mmm," Akron nodded and placed her tray on the table. She liked to eat while floating, but she was usually eating alone. "I don't…" She squinted. "Sara?"

The former carrier nodded.

Akron's ears twitched questioningly. "Um… you look good."

Sara blushed and bit her lip. "You… could say. I'm a battlecruiser now."

"Oh," Akron nudged. "That explained the big rifles."

"No, I always had those."

Akron blinked.

Sara snickered to herself. "I'm sorry, it's late."

Akron shrugged and picked out a particularly tasty looking bit of kale. "Couldn't sleep?"

Sara made a show of inspecting her pajama-clad figure. "What gave it away?"

Akron giggled. "Can I ask why?" She said. "Is it boy trouble? Are you pregnant?"

Sara smiled and idly pushed a loose strand of hair behind her petite ear. "Of course you… wait… what?"

"You know, pregnant!" Akron giggled. "When a ship and her admiral love each other very much…" she trailed off. Partly because Sara was already turning beet red, but mostly because Akron didn't have a clue what happened next. Oh, she knew what would happen next if both parties involved were people, but when one of them was a warship… who knows. Storks could be involved.

"What makes you think that!" Demanded Sara, but the little smirk she was wearing couldn't quite be displaced.

"You and Stewart are so cute!" Said Akron, "All the girls back east are rooting for you."

"Well…" Sara blushed, clearly unable to come up with any reply to that.

"So," Akron peeked over her coke at the book Sara was writing. The airship considered herself quite adept at reading upside-down writing—mostly so she could still read during stiff breezes—but whatever Sara was reading was written in really tiny letters. Akron disliked small letters. "Whatcha reading?"

"Summoning Reports," Sara spread out a few folders, revealing that she actually had several of the finely-lettered documents to peruse. "Every ship that's come back has filed one."

"And?" Akron lazily sipped her drink.

"So far—if we abandon Texas as an obvious outlier—New Jerseys' has been the most explicit." The former carrier chuckled. "And I do mean explicit."

Akron chuckled. She'd read a few of Jersey's reports—and promptly sworn never to allow the destroyers to know of their existence.

"I'm trying to get some… context for what I remember," said Sara. "It's just… shadows, really. Not as vivid Jersey's, like everyone else." She sighed, idly chewing on the end of her pencil. "But… I can't shake the feeling that there was someone in command down there."

"Deep Six?" asked Akron. The mystical admiral of the deep had many names, but Akron liked that one the most.

"Mmm," Sara nodded. "Davy Jones, if you want to be poetic."

"Nah, those movies sucked." Akron would sometimes watch movies on her ipod while on patrol. She used to solicit recommendations, but them someone tricked her into bringing the second and third Pirates movies, the star wars prequels, Catwoman, and Battlefield Earth.

Sara blinked, but continued onward like nothing had happened. "Whatever you want to call him, he was in charge down there, and he let me go… as a battlecruiser."

"Yeah, what's up with that?" asked Akron.

"That's the thing… I…" Sara shook her head. "I don't remember any of this, but I know it, if that makes sense."

Akron nodded. She couldn't explain it either, and she doubted any human would ever be able to really understand how a shipgirl remembered her summoning, but she knew the utter certainty that Sara was talking about.

"Right," Sara nodded. "He let me come back as a battlecruiser because he couldn't let me be a carrier." She shook her head. "Not wouldn't, couldn't. It was like he wanted to, but… someone stayed his hand."

Akron screwed up her face. "That… that doesn't make any sense."

"I know," Sara sighed. "And the more I read… it just doesn't make sense."

"Maybe you should take a break?" the airship shrugged. "Let your mind wander for a bit, maybe you'll stumble on something you'd never have thought of."

"I…" Sara glanced at her pile of documents. "I guess that'll work."

Akron leaned over and slowly closed the manila folder, then flipped it over and put it out of sight. "Better?"

Sara took a long breath. "Better."

Akron smiled.

"Akron," Sara blushed. "Um… I've been wondering…"

"Hmm?"

"Your ears…"

Akron smiled and obligingly presented her head for petting. Sara didn't hesitate to start. Before long, the mess hall was filled with the sound of gentle airship purring.

 

[Old Iron]

(⌐■_■)

* * * * *

"Enjoying yourself?" queried Hiei as she took a seat next to Arizona. She tilted back a bottle of beer and took a healthy swig of the dark liquid.

"Mmm." Arizona sipped at her wine before giving her friend a proper reply. "I am. The wedding was beautiful. The atmosphere is pleasant. And everyone looks so happy that I'd be hard pressed to not be having a good time."

Hiei smiled and swirled her drink.

"I don't see you mingling though. And I thought you'd have a line out the door of strapping young lads and ladies wanting to chat. Or try to dance the night away with." She grinned when Arizona rolled her eyes. Mutsu was having fun with John, well-wishers, and a mountain of destroyers. So it was on her to tease and torment the standard.

She'd do it even if Mutsu wasn't busy, but this just gave her another excuse. Besides, it was fun. It was hard to complete with Mutsu though. She was just so good at it. Almost too good, honestly.

"I had the required dance with my escort before I threw him to the wolf." She set down her nearly empty glass and tapped the rim lightly.

"Wolf?" Hiei paused. Shouldn't that be wolves? The Americanism was plural, right? There were a lot of single shipgirls out there anyways. The cruisers especially we-oh. Oh. "Ohhh ho ho~ Ari, you devil."

"...Wh-what?" Replied Arizona defensively.

"Do you have any idea what you did?" She scooted up next to Arizona and put an arm around her shoulder. This was too good. Far too good. She pointed into the crowd. "The Hungry Wolf of Yokosuka has been trying since the day she was summoned to find love. Trying and failing. She hasn't even been able to get a date."

They might be at war, but that shouldn't have to stop anyone from finding some joy. They had just been part of a wedding between an admiral and a battleship who was also very much pregnant after all.

"I fail to see how my actions are so special. He was plainly interested in her and she was looking at him like he was a slab of meat." Arizona huffed. There was a mix of amusement and her usual grumpiness in her voice, which only made Hiei's grin grow.

"I don't think you realize just how starved for romantic affection she is." Ashigara had friends and family, but her fortune with anything that involved love was firmly in the negatives.

"Then let them dance, be happy, and hope they can make something of it. There is no need to make a spectacle of it." She waved her hand dismissively, but Hiei could easily make out the smile trying to make itself seen.

"If Ashigara lets this slip through her fingers, she might lose her mind. Just look at her!"

Hiei hadn't seen the Wolf this happy in a very long time. She was a naturally outgoing and energetic woman, but the laughter on her face was on a whole new level. If Mutsu was seeing this then she was no doubt grinning from ear to ear. Weddings were all sorts of fun.

...Wait a minute.

Oh dammit.

Really? Was the universe really going to go to such lengths? Let the poor woman have a break.

Hiei's head fell again Arizona's shoulder and she groaned.

"Hiei? What's wrong?"

"Ashigara is on the patrol roster." Hiei set her bottle back onto the table. Well, at least this was better than usual.

"Oh... But they should still have some time before deployment, correct? Surely there's enough left in her evening for some more memories." Arizona reached into the breast pocket of her dress uniform and withdrew a golden pocket watch. It popped open with an audible click. She frowned a moment after reading the time. "I suppose not."

"Think we should intervene?" Hiei was so very tempted to do so. Not only because the battle hungry cruiser really needed a break. But also because she was a Kongou. Love powered her boilers just as a potent head of steam did. She just wasn't as vocal about it. Not in public anyway.

"What do you propose?" Asked Arizona as she put away her watch. "There is no changing her deployment. We're only being allowed as much freedom as we are because we are part of the wedding."

"Nothing that drastic. A kick in the pants to make sure they exchange numbers or something. Knowing her, she's on cloud nine just having the chance to dance with someone and not even thinking about how to get ahold of the guy later." She snickered and sat up. "Her head's probably full of her own imaginary wedding right now."

"I think we could do that for her."

"I knew I could count on you." She clapped Arizona's shoulder. The prude of prudes the American might be, but her heart was in the right place.

Arizona simply gave another huff and stood from her seat.

"We don't have much time, so lets hurry."

"Shouldn't that be my line, lagwagon?" Teased Hiei as she fell into step alongside Arizona.

"Wha-where?! Where did you hear that name?" Demanded Arizona.

"From your other daughter. The speedboat." She shrugged with false disappointment. "Did you really think the entire base wouldn't know about a nickname a destroyer gives someone? Especially one like Shimakaze?"

"I do wish she wouldn't. Prudebote is bad enough, thank you very much." Arizona pinched the bridge of her nose in irritation.

Hiei simply laughed while they maneuvered through the dancing crowds. She made a note that Ari had not denied Shimakaze being her little girl at all. It was an arrangement she wouldn't have ever imagined, but there was no way she'd complain about it. It was good for both of them.

And both ensure Jane had more siblings while giving even more avenues to harass the standard. Very important things in the grand scheme of things. Without question.

She was quite happy to see everyone having a good time as they walked by. Some more than others and some in ways that didn't really involve dancing.

Hoel was regaling Hatsuzuki with tales of some sort of supreme God-Donut. A pastry to rule all others. It did sound incredibly tasty, but they had a job to do. She had to give Ari a bit of a shove to keep her moving past the destroyers.

She very nearly choked on a laugh when she caught sight of Chikuma and the impossibly stacked non-shipgirl haul away that Army guy who had been chatting with Jersey earlier. The scene in and of itself wasn't all too eye catching, but the fact he was being dragged out by his feet made it impossible to ignore. And it was really damn funny, too.

"Someone's in for a wild night. Hope he doesn't break anything."

"Pardon?"

"Oh, nothing. Just watched Chikuma drag someone out of the room." She turned her attention back to navigating herself and Arizona towards their intended destination. This place was more packed than she realized. It didn't help that their targets were slowly drifting away.

"The less I am aware of her inclinations, the better off I will be." Arizona stated flatly as they passed Naka's cameraman awkwardly trying to strike up a conversation with Nagato and failing terribly.

"Oh, there are plenty worse things she could be do-!"

Hiei dodged out of the way as a pair of little boys came barreling through the masses, heedless of where they were going.

"Hey, be careful!" She hollered at their retreating forms. Yeesh. Kids these days. At least her daughter put forth some effort to behave in public. Jane didn't always succeed, but the effort was there.

"This... could pose a problem." Arizona's voice held a tone of concern that made the hair on the back of Hiei's neck stand on edge.

"Please tell me this is a 'hahaha' kind of problem and not a 'general quarters' kind of problem." She was really hoping for the former. And as she laid eyes on the scene Arizona was bearing witness to, she mentally swore. "...A Pennsylvania kind of problem."

"She did so well at the wedding..."

Hiei sighed.

"Lets calm them down before someone gets hurt. We're already drawing an audience."

"I agree." Arizona took a step forward and almost immediately stopped.

"Please. Just... ten! Ten more minutes. Five even!" Ashigara pleaded just short of shamelessly. Never before had anyone seen her so desperate. Her pride was little more than a memory. "Victory is so close. I can't let it slip through my fingers again! I have lost time and again. Please don't let me miss this chance."

Pennsylvania crossed her arms and glowered up at the heavy cruiser while Hunter looked on in a plain display of bewilderment.

"No. We have patrol. You drew the night shift, so suck it up and do your duty sailor. Everyone else is, so there's no good reason for you to be the sole exception." Pennsylvania's crimson eyes narrowed in poorly veiled displeasure. "I will gladly force your compliance."

"One minute?"

Hiei palmed her face while Arizona did likewise. The sonarman really should have kept his mouth shut.

Pennsylvania turned her ire laden gaze towards Ashigara's date. He seemed to flinch, but did not fall to pieces. Hiei would at least give him that.

"Please, ma'am?"

The surrounding guests watched with baited breath as Pennsylvania turned back to the despairing wolf, ignoring the young man's request. Her gaze was merciless and her posture steadfast.

"We're leaving."

"Pl-eeeahowa?!" Ashigara's final attempt at bargaining was cut off thanks to Pennsylvania taking the matter into her own hands.

Hiei couldn't help herself and let a snort of laughter break the stunned silence. A laugh that continued to grow. Someone had better be filming this. She would never forgive the world if they weren't.

Her mirth caused the dam to burst as more and more onlookers broke into laughter and barely constrained chuckles. Arizona looked torn between joining them and giving in to a mild case of shock. She finally cracked when Hiei began using her shoulder for support.

"P-p-put me down!"

"I refuse." Pennsylvania stated mirthlessly.

"James, please. Help! Our happy ending!"

But the sailor was rooted to the spot along with many others as they witnessed Ashigara being carted away, held over Pennsylvania's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She was only saved further humiliation thanks to her skirt not riding up to show off her aft to everyone with a set of functioning eyeballs in the vicinity.

"Jaaaames-!"

Hiei stifled her amusement just enough to allow herself the ability to form coherent sentences and approached the dumbstruck man. He seemed to return to reality after she snapped her fingers in front of his face a few times.

"That... really just happened?"

"Yep." She put an arm around the young sailor and gave him a playful punch to the jaw. "You'll have another chance. You did get her number right?"

His horrified silence was damning.

Hiei shook her head in disapproval as Arizona walked over and the crowd returned to their previous milling, dancing, and gossiping.

"I will wager he didn't get her number and Ashigara's curse remains?" She rubbed her temples as Hiei shook her head in the negative. "Mr. Hunter, I do apologize for my sister. But you should have struck while the iron was hot. You knew she was going to be deployed."

"Do you have to rub salt in the wound?" The sonarman groaned.

Arizona nodded.

"Harsh, Ari. Harsh." Hiei chuckled and released Hunter. "Just track her down when she gets back. Pull some strings. Bribe a politician or two. Get Oyoodo some rare coffee. Something's bound to work. You're a submariner. Hunting is what you do."

"I... don't suppose either of you have a way of getting ahold of her that you're willing to share?"

"Nope. Not gonna make it easy on either of you after that little display." Hiei laughed with a sliver of fake wickedness in her voice. Oh, this night was just too much fun in all sorts of ways. But now she had to have some fun at someone else's expense. Someone who deserved it like no one else. "Take care Mr. Hunter. Come on Ari. I have to do something very, very important~"

Arizona only had a brief chance to bid Hunter farewell before being dragged off into the crowd.

"What madness has taken you now?"

"I'm John's best friend, Best Man, and a whole lot of things. And it's my job to make sure he's incredibly happy with Mutsu and embarrass him at the same time." And this one would be one for the history books. She could see his reaction coming miles away.

"Hiei. This is his wedding day. One of the most important days in his and Mutsu's lives. What are you planning?" Arizona sounded genuinely worried. That was good. But not really needed. "Hiei?"

"You'll see." She grinned mischievously. If ever there was a doubt that she was a Kongou, she would just need to show that grin. Her best Kongou-class grin that only she and her sisters could pull off. An expression that promised mischief, mayhem, love, and reality breaking shenanigans. "And Mutsu approved~"

"Please leave those of us with sanity out of this." Pleaded Arizona despite not trying to fight off Hiei's grip in the slightest.

"You're part of the family, so you're stuck with us."

"Lord save me."

"I don't think his subordinate is available at the moment." Hiei released Arizona as they approached the table where the happily wedded couple were chatting with Jintsuu and a division of destroyers. Her grin widened when John caught sight of her and froze. He knew what this look meant. Or didn't mean. They might know each other better than anyone else in the world, but not even he could fully discern a Kongou.

Mutsu gave her a wink and a smile. An action that made John pale. Mission start.

She straightened her suit jacket and snapped a salute that was more crisp than anything she'd delivered in a very, very long time. All while wearing that smile. Her poise almost cracked when John slowly returned the salute. As if he wasn't quite sure how to use his hand anymore.

"Admiral John Richardson." She began, ignoring the crowd now gathering. If they thought Ashigara's misfortune was a spectacle, well... "I hereby announce my intention to do two things. The first is to congratulate you on your marriage to Mutsu Richardson. I wish you all the happiness and joy in the world."

"...And the second?"

"To embarrass the living daylights out of you." Her green eyes flashed as Mutsu gestured for the destroyers and Jintsuu to stand clear. "Now pucker up, John!"

And then Hiei pounced.

* * * * *

 

[theJMPer]

"Sorry, what?" Heavy cruiser Maya blinked as her mind was suddenly wrenched from the lazily orbiting float plane she'd thrown up an hour ago and back to her very surface-bound hull. Someone—Sendai, probably—had just said something to her, but she'd been too spaced-out to hear anything about the question beyond its existence. That in itself lent further credence to the 'Sendai did it' camp, as Maya had gotten very good at tuning out the impossibly loud traffic cone.

It wasn't even that she didn't like Sendai. She did, she even considered the neon orange ninja to be her best friend. Most of the other girls were too demure and… well girlish for Maya's taste. But that didn't mean Sendai's constant bombast wasn't annoying sometimes.

"Maya-Sama," Sendai made a show out of drawing out the honorific. Maya just rolled her eyes and adjusted her gloves. "You really need to learn to pay attention to things."

"Oh, but I do." Maya shifted the balance of her attention to her floatplane, keeping just enough on the surface to properly engage in a battle of wits with her best seagoing friend. "I pay attention to the important things. Why do you think I tune you out?"

Sendai huffed. It was hard to take her seriously when she pouted like that, not least because of how much shorter she was than the flagrantly treaty-defying Takao-class. "Well—"

"And let's face it," said Maya. "You're so stealthy you're easy to overlook."

Sendai's pout morphed into an odd combination of pride, frustration, and then more pride. Pride that her vaunted skills at SNEAK ATTACK had been complimented. Frustration that she couldn't turn that around on Maya without making it a self-diss. And then pride again that Maya had gotten so good at bants. "The student has become the master!"

"That from something?" Maya glanced in the light cruiser's general direction, but her eyes were a cloudy silver with her attention focused on her plane. She knew Sendai hated that.

Sendai's long gloved hand met her face with a quiet pomf. "Maya… if we ever get back to Sasebo Jintsuu is making you watch Star Wars."

"Psh!" Maya threw out her chest and let a hearty laugh rumble out from her boilers. "Like the quietest traffic cone could do a thing to Maya-Sama!"

"You don't know," said Sendai with uncharacteristic fear. "She's got an Admiral wrapped around her little finger."

"Really?" Maya gave the littler cruiser a sideways glance. "Last I heard he was pining for Mutsu's ample upperworks."

"That's what I was trying to tell you, Maya-Baka!" Sendai huffed like a beleaguered schoolteacher forced to wrangle a field trip of third graders, all of whom had consumed close to their own body weight in pure uncut cocaine. "Mutsu and Richardson got hitched!"

"Damn, I missed it," said Maya with utter ambivalence. She didn't so much detest girlish stuff as… well, she found it trying. It was half the reason her friendship with her sisters was distant at best. She liked Takao and all, Choukai was sweet when she wasn't being weird, and she was pretty sure nobody could dislike Atago.

But she'd much rather play Call of Duty in her cheeto-stained underwear with Sendai for twenty-nine consecutive hours than go to some wedding. Being girlish just wasn't in her design, and formal wear clashed with her brash persona.

"C'mon, it'd be cute." Sendai giggled and swished her flowing scarf over her shoulder. She loved that scarf, and bragged to all the destroyers that she'd found it floating among the wreckage of an Abyssal battleship she'd defeated in an epic three-day night battle while patrolling up above the arctic circle. Which, Maya supposed, was a better story than picking it up during a beer-run to Walmart because she didn't want to look like an alcoholic.

"It's Japan," said Maya. "All they'd have is Sake. maybe." She didn't mind Sake—as long as there was enough of it to get her properly buzzed—but it just didn't compare to a good Long Island Iced tea.

"You know Mutsu's got two on the slips?"

"I'm a cruiser," said Maya, "Of course I, the fuck, know!"

For a moment, the two warships stared at each other.

"Yeah… that doesn't really work," Maya shuddered. English had such a plethora of profanity for her to use, but the cruiser was still a novice at the art of obscene grammar.

"Not really, no." Sendai shrugged.

Maya sighed. "She'd be a couple months along by the time we reach Sasebo, won't she?"

"Mmm, at least," said Sendai. "Word is she and her admiral got to fucking… pretty much as soon as he admitted he liked her."

"Mutsu's a mommy…" Maya giggled at the mental image of proud, strong Mutsu tottering around with a bowling ball in her belly. Only for the image to quickly shift to her own figure doing the pregnancy-induced waddle. And then the cruiser noticed she was resting her own hand on her middle. She blushed and hastily moved her hand to her hip. "Wash is too, isn't she?"

"Mmm," said Sendai. "And Gale."

"Gale made Warrant, didn't she?"

Sendai nodded.

"Good for her," said the heavy cruiser. "She deserved something for all the suffering Kirishima put her through."

"You know 'shima's sidling up to Crowning now, right?" said Sendai.

"I thought he was still with Jersey." Maya sighed. Keeping track of everyone's relationships was never her strong suit. But it beat talking about what she was most certainly not doing with her hand and/or fantasizing about.

"Dude," Sendai rolled her eyes. "They broke up… like… months ago."

"I still say she's a riverboat."

"Stop saying that," said Sendai. "It's not going to catch on."

Maya flipped both pointer fingers at Sendai. A moment later she hastily switched to her middle fingers.

Sendai rolled her eyes again. "Poor girl though."

"Who, Jersey?"

"Yeah," said Sendai. "She doesn't deserve to be alone."

Maya howled with laughter. "Jersey? Forever alone? Have you seen her aft?"

Sendai buried her nose in her scarf. "Okay, point." After a moment's pause she contunied. "Think 'laska and Cameron are gonna make babies?"

Maya shrugged. "Nah. 'lest not for a while."

"But they love each other so much!"

"Exactly!" Maya waved her hand at the smaller cruiser in a dismissive way. "He's bow over screws for her. If he hasn't railed her until she can't even float yet, he's not gonna until they tie the knot."

"That's going to be one epic honeymoon," said Sendai with a lascivious giggle.

"I feel bad for her poor shaft galleries."

"Her?" Sendai laughed. "I feel bad for his pelvis. You know how Americans are with Dam-con."

"Yeah, well—"

"Speaking of Americans," Sendai's smile turned venomous.

"Sendai, no."

"How's Garret?"

Maya scowled. "He's fine." Honestly, she wasn't sure why Sendai even needed to ask. Their quarters stateside weren't that big to begin with, and the light cruiser had never let a little thing like Maya and her boyfriend spending hours as a temple of carnal lust displace her from her Mario cart time trials. It was honestly unnerving how well Garret and Sendai could hold a casual conversation while he was hips-deep in her bilges.

"You two gonna try for a little one?" Sendai teased.

Maya abruptly realized she was cradling her middle again and scowled. "Sendai," she ignored her blush, "Do you know how I know it's impossible to hate someone out of existence?"

Sendai rolled her eyes.

"You still exist," said Maya. "That's why."

—|—|—​

The raider princess smiled as warm tropical air filled her ashy lungs. Her breasts swelled against the pebbly, face-hardened surface of her turtleback bustier, and she closed her burning electric blue eyes for just a moment. Her proud bow cut through the azure water while her tipple screws churned the calm sea into an icy gray froth. In her life, pointless and short as it had been, she'd never experienced truly being at sea.

She'd spent months working up and training, toning every muscle and fiber of her lithe body into the instrument of Aryan perfection she knew she was born to be. She was the fastest, most powerful battleship the world had ever seen.

She should have drained her foes white with fear as she painted the oceans red with the blood of their shipping. Should have punished their insolence and deprived their soggy island of its lifelines one by one, until hunger drove men to madness and women to eat their own children. Should have laughed as their hunger drove them to such desperation they begged to be annexed into the Reich.

It should have been hers. It should have all been hers. But the cruel strings of fate tore it all from her talons. What should have been a campaign of terror on the high seas that would stand in triumphant supremacy for generations was nine pointless days accomplishing nothing.

She'd been hounded across the frigid Atlantic, driven like the hapless merchants that were supposed to be her pray. She was the hunted!

Not anymore.

The princess opened her eyes once more, taking in the sight of unblemished ocean extending in every direction as far as she could sea. The ocean was hers now. There were no cruisers shadowing her in the fog, no carriers scrambling to lay a trap for her… There was only her primal instinct: hunt and kill.

She licked her lips and idly ran her tongue across the razor-sharp obsidian shards lining her pallid gums. The thrill of the hunt coursed through her calcified veins and fueled her howling, ravenous boilers.

By her side, her demons cruised in tight formation. They were simple things, hunting dogs to drive her prey under the punishing gaze of her rifles. Their faces were featureless masks of gray skin stretched taunt over smooth, sun-bleached bone. A twisted maw of crooked incisors constantly oozing bloody oil was the only disturbance to their otherwise unadorned visages, and their eyeless gaze stared impassively at the horizon.

But the princess knew. They were her demons. Birthed from her own frigid womb, suckled at her own icy breast. She could sense the thrill of the hunt coursing through them, burning like wildfire deep inside their armored bosoms.

"Soon," the princess planted her gauntleted hands on her hips and let her talons sink into the stiff fabric of her greatcoat. "Soon you will have sisters, my demons."

As if on cue, the reconnaissance plane she'd launched hours ago signaled for her attention. The princess closed her eyes and looked through those of her airborne spotter. It took her barely a second to get her bearings, and a second more to spot what her spotter had been so eager to alert her of.

A smile crossed her stony face as her turbines built up to flank. She would feast tonight.

—|—|—​

"It's a beautiful evening, isn't it?" Sendai smiled into the setting sun, her cheeks all but glowing in the warm purple-orange dusk. Her long silk scarf billowed behind her as the wind raced across the shimmering sapphire waters of the south pacific.

"Don't say it," A few hundred yards ahead of her, Maya had to fight down a scowl.

Sendai ignored her friend. "A cool breeze, nice warm water," she sighed, her chest puffing out as she took a deep breath of the sweet winter air.

"If you say it, I'll hurt you."

"And not even a cloud in the sky!" Sendai tossed the streaming end of her scarf around her neck with a sly grin.

"Sendai-"

"The perfect weather," Sendai giggled.

"Dammit, Sendai, no."

"For-"

"Don't say it!"

"Yasen!" Sendai threw her fist out with a flourish, her other arm holding an imaginary katana behind her.

Maya shot the light cruiser a look that could sink a battleship. Her sea-green tank-top showed off the sinewy muscle of her arms, and at the moment, all that sinew was tensed and ready for combat. "I will hurt you," she drawled.

Sendai rolled her eyes, "Like you would, you big softy."

"I hate you so fucking much," said Maya. "If I was in a room with you, Hitler, and Stalin, do you know what I'd do?"

"Shot me twice?" asked Sendai. "I watched The Office too you know."

"No," said Maya. "No no no no…. see, I'd shoot each of them twice. Then I'd shove the still hot—" The cruiser abruptly stopped, like her voice had slammed into a brick wall.

"What?" Sendai noticed the change in her friend's demeanor, and instantly dropped the teasing act. Her posture stiffened, then relaxed again into a tightly coiled ready stance.

"E13A," was Maya's only response. The lion's share of her attention was focused on her little reconnaissance floatplane, with only enough to keep formation with the flotilla of freighters under her protection remaining on the surface. "We're being shadowed."

"Shadowed?" said Sendai with guarded cautiousness. "Or—"

"Scratch that," said Maya. "They're going fast. Running us down."

"Shit," Sendai cursed under her breath. "What? What's the fleet?"

"Bismark," said Maya with utter certainty. She didn't know how she knew, but there wasn't a shred of doubt in her mind as her crew cleared for acion. "And… two Scharns."

"Shiiiiiiiiiiiit," Sendai hissed. "That's what… thirty knots?"

"Maybe if we run for Pearl…" Maya's voice was as distant as her gaze.

"At thirty knots they'll still catch us," said Sendai. "We'd need… another day, day and a half just to get under their air umbrella."

For a moment, the heavy cruiser was silent. Then she stiffened her spine, held her chin high, and straightened the knot on her neckerchief. "Sendai," her voice sounded calm, but Sendai knew the Takao well enough to pick out the faint notes of strain holding it all together, "If we extend towards Pearl at flank, we can delay engagement until after sundown."

Sendai nodded. "Yeah… guess we could." She blinked. "Wait, you're not—"

"I am," said Maya. "you said it was perfect weather."

"Not against that," said Sendai. "Three battleships…"

"Can we do it?"

Sendai thought for a moment, then hung her head. "We have to."

"Mmm." Maya nodded. "Murakumo," she barked for the lead destroyer of the little escort division steaming along with the freighters.

"Hai!"

"You're in command of the supply fleet." Maya's voice was clipped and precise as she relayed orders to the stunned destroyer. "When darkness falls, try and shake them in the dark. Sendai and I will hold the Abyssals in place for your escape."

"But—"

"Once you've disengaged, make for Pearl at best possible speed and do not, under any circumstances, double-back for us," Maya fixed the destroyer in her stare. "Do you understand?"

"But—," Murakumo was frozen in place by the cruiser's glare. "What about you and Sendai?"

"We'll…" Maya trailed off. "We'll link up with you."

"Oh, Murakumo's voice was quiet and subdued. "H-hai, Maya-Sama."

"Sendai," Maya glanced at her friend. "Are you in the mood for a night battle?"

Sendai put on a smile. "With you, Maya-Sama, any day."

—|—|—​

Hood woke with a gasp. Her throat was dry as gravel, her lungs only barely managing to haul meager scraps of air down her shaking windpipe. Her skin was slick with frozen sweat, and her bedding was so drenched she thought for a moment she was adrift in the icy waters of Scapa Flow.

The battlecruiser pulled herself upright as best she could. Her lithe body was quivering with adrenaline, and it was all she could manage to run her shaking fingers through her sweat-slick hair. It was her nightmare again. The same one she'd had for months. The same one she'd had every time she drifted from consciousness for more than a few moments.

Bismark looming out of the fog, leveling those mighty fifteens squarely at her defenseless hulk. A thunder of cordite… and then nothing. Only this time it was so more vivid then the last. She saw every detail of the ship that haunted her dreams. She saw the rifling on those mighty guns, saw the waves crashing over every plate and seam on the battleship's hull, even saw her Teutonic features shift with a few silent words a moment before the guns roared.

Hood squeezed her eyes closed and hugged her slim legs against her chest. She knew it wasn't real, she knew it was just a dream. But it still shattered her to her core. She hated it. She was the pride of the navy, the first of Her Majesty's warships to return. She should be stronger than this, yet here she was. Quivering in her bed a nervous wreck.

It just wouldn't do. Hood forced herself to stand. The floor was cold under her bare feet, and Hood let her self believe the chill was bracing. She peeled off the nightgown glued to her sinewy body with clammy sweat and stepped into the shower.

"It's not real," she murmured as cold water poured down her back. "It's just a dream, it's not real." At first, the manta was shaken and quiet. But with each repetition, the battle cruiser built strength. But try as she might, she couldn't shake the lingering worry gnawing at the back of her mind.

Bismark… or… some shadow of Bismark was out there. Hood knew it in her ancient bones. But she also knew how impossible that was. She was a proper warship of Her Majesty's Navy, and she was putting stock on superstitions? Still, she wouldn't be able to sleep until she put this to rest.

Hood dried herself off and changed into her uniform. The buttons on her blouse took longer than she would have liked, her fingers were still shaking like she'd just come out of a freezer. Try as she could, Hood couldn't force her appendages to lay still.

"Damn," Hood cursed under her breath and buried her hands in her pockets to at least hide her shame. She doubted anyone would notice. The only sailors still up at this hour were those manning the base CIC, and it was so cold nobody would look twice at her if she kept her hands in her pockets.

Still it was proper unsightly and…

Hood blinked. She'd opened the door like she'd planned. But instead of seeing the quiet streets of the base after hours, she was confronted with the worried visage of her Admiral.

"Admiral, I…"

"Hood." His voice was kind, his eyes as gentle as they were tense. And then she knew.

"No," Hood's voice was barely above a wispier. "No, that's… no."