Lieutenant Maeda's 'office' was a portable table, the sort used by field commanders the world over, set up roughly in one of the rooms of the house he was billeted in. He'd wrapped the legs in rags to spare the floor, but you still winced when you saw it, loaded down with papers and forms.
"What's all this?" You asked, glancing quickly. It was a lot for such a sleepy little posting.
"Transfer papers, mostly. We've had the air station and the Kari out here since the first month of the war and you'd be surprised how many officers and men we've gone through since then. I only took over from my predecessor about three months ago, honestly! It's odd but who can explain it. That's the Navy for you! Not up to us to ask why, just to carry out our orders." He shuffled through some papers for a moment.
"I suspect I won't be long for here myself." You confessed. "They tend to move me around quite a lot."
"Yeah, your record stands out a bit.," he said with more than a little admiration. "Wound medal, Imperial Naval Academy Good Conduct Medal, Order of the Precious Seal, 7th Class. Order of the Meritorious Spear
3rd class--I'm surprised you're just a lieutenant," he laughed, apparently amused by his own joke. "I'm glad we have you as long as we do, though: not a lot of experienced officers around these parts."
"I don't know if I'm really all that experienced," you said, trying to be humble. You'd had an eventful career so far, but experienced? That seemed so odd to you. Surely it was only because you were under a microscope--it made you more likely to be noticed, whether for good or bad.
"You are! You've been involved in combat against the Caspians and even been wounded. I'd say that's plenty experienced," Maeda replied earnestly. "The men respect that, too, I'm sure."
You thought back to the sailor who had assumed you were a WNR officer. The resentful glances when you had first tried to whip your original command back on the supply vessel into shape. It was hard to see anyone as respecting you, but… maybe the medals pinned to your breast and hanging around your neck changed that.
"I suppose they do," you replied after a moment, though the hesitation wasn't really noticeable to anyone who didn't know the manners of the Imperial court. "Is there anything in that pile for me to look through?"
"Nothing here that needs your attention--I think Mizutani handled all of it before he left, though sometimes the post mixes us up so if you get anything addressed to me, let me know?"
"Of course, Lieutenant." You bowed slightly, a small gesture meant to show that you were relative equals, started to turn to leave, but you heard the intake of breath behind you and disguised the movement as a shift to study a cheap art piece on the wall. This conversation wasn't over.
"You've probably seen some of the issues we've been having. Including young Tsuda. The men don't have much to do when they're off duty and they have a tendency to get a bit, well, rowdy."
"That is a problem." You said neutrally, not wanting to sound accusatory.
"It's just numbers. An inflution of 15% of the population in young men is… going to be a problem anywhere, never mind a backwater like this."
You pulled up a chair to talk it over, and it turned out 'a problem' was an understatement. While there hadn't been any gross violations of discipline that the officers knew of, there were incidents. Drunkenness. Fights with locals (mostly teenage boys and men who hadn't been called up yet), and there were rumours that some of the men on leave were going gambling at one of the local houses. The… pregnancy. The sorts of things all young men who were away from home for the first time in their lives tended to get up to when they were left alone.
Decorum prevented either of you from bringing it up, but the very real possibility of sailors sexually assaulting locals was on your mind the entire time. Not that you thought it likely. Naval men usually had better sense than that.
Usually.
"You've managed shore postings before. How did they keep the men in order in Joseon?"
"Physical training. Lots of inspections." You paused, thought of Kwon. "My chief petty officer also tended to give men who weren't doing their utmost reminders." That is, he would smack them around if he thought they weren't showing the right amount of respect or weren't taking care of their gun in the proper shipshape Navy way.
"Spirits. I don't think our posting is that bad…"
"It's not, this is a well-run post. Our problem isn't readiness or really discipline overall, it's liaison with the civilian population and ensuring that our men act properly when they interact with them." To say that wasn't a priority for any of the postings in Joseon would be… an understatement. "If we run the men too hard over minor incidents, especially given their otherwise satisfactory conduct, they'll just resent us. It might make them worse. I've seen what happens when a ship is run too tightly and it isn't something you ever want to experience for yourself."
"I didn't think such a thing was possible," Maeda said with a smile.
"Beatings for minor errors--not just for dereliction but for every mistake. Officers playing favorites. Sailors were encouraged to inform on each other's small faults and made to participate in the dispensed punishments. The ship's company was like a powder keg."
"Alright, let's not do that. I was considering restricting the days they're allowed into town, but I'm not sure it's realistic considering that we're billeted in town!"
"Right. What we need to do is organize the distractions so they're under Navy supervision. And give them other distractions besides drinking. Get some instruments and start a band. Organize some sports teams or a field day--the
Kari vs the air station, say. If we have boats, we can have rowing races in the harbor. Anything that keeps them moving and focused on doing things that aren't drinking is a good idea, really." You paused and considered your options.
"Is there enough space for a baseball field? I know baseball is quite popular these days. I'm even something of an aficionado myself." Silently, you thanked your girlfriend for introducing you to the sport.
"That's a good start, and should fall under our discretionary spending. And perhaps the civilians might field a team as well, if we ask, or just practice. Keep their interactions under the eye of our petty officers." Maeda sighed and sat back a little. "Now I feel a little foolish for not thinking of this myself."
"It's not terribly intuitive, and you're doing better than most of the postings I've been on. Most ships just turn the crew loose on the pleasure district of wherever the dock and hope for the best."
"Not exactly an option up here, though I think there are a few enterprising locals who may have gone into business by now..."
"Let's not encourage illegal activity. From our men or from the locals."
"Right. It's not like there's a legal alternative to be had a posting like this." Maeda said. Prostitution was strictly regulated these days, fortunately: you needed liscenes and there were inspections of living and working conditions. Just over a decade ago, it was barely a step up from slavery.
"And it's not like the Navy wants to pay to import that sort of entertainment here. That's reserved for postings near the Admiralty."
Now there was a joke you wouldn't have made a year ago. Maeda smiled, covered his mouth with a hand to stifle a laugh.
"Quite. I'll get the forms squared away. Thanks for your help, Lieutenant."
"Not a problem, Lieutenant."
---
The next thing on your list was the shrine visit. After some consideration, you had your dress uniform ironed for the occasion to provide the proper level of Imperial Presence and turned up fifteen minutes before the arranged time, as you usually did. Maybe it was closer to half an hour. No matter.
The shrine was located a little way up the hill from the village, nestled in an old and dense grove of trees that passed for the forest on the island. The path to the shrine was winding, switching back a few times through trees which at times concealed the view out towards the sparkling sea. There was a lovely breeze coming in, the leaves rustling overhead as you walked, and it was all quite atmospheric. You passed through the wooden gateway that marked the entrance of the sacred space and climbed up the steep stone steps in the side of the hill, quietly grateful that you were in decent shape. Arriving out of breath was not very Imperial.
As you reached the top of the stairs and paused to catch your breath for a moment, you took in the shrine. It was small and old and had probably been here longer than the Imperial institution and likely had been rebuilt several times. Somehow it felt more permanent than anywhere else you had been, in a strange way. There was a packed gravel pathway leading into the heart of the shrine--you could see the small prayer hall and beyond it, the other small building that served as the actual place of enshrinement--the most sacred place where only the priests and priestesses were allowed. Where the spirits themselves dwelled, when they visited.
On the path was a young woman in her early teenage years, maybe fifteen at most. She was dressed in the bright white and sky blue of a shrine maiden, and she was fervently sweeping the pathway, though you saw no sign of any leaves or other debris that might be cause for such frenzied cleaning. Her hair was still growing out, barely shoulder-length, and she had a sort of doubly awkward teenage energy, too tall and with limbs too long to manage. A few moments after you arrived, she seemed to notice you and she let out a faint sound of dismay before she bowed, dropping to her knees, slipping a bit over her shoes, and letting her forehead nearly touch the ground.
"Y-Your Imperial Highness--we didn't expect you so early. Please, forgive us! We apologize that you have to see the shrine in such a poor state--" She was babbling, her voice going through a series of ranges as she tried to find one that sounded natural. Poor girl.
You held up a hand and she stopped instantly.
"It's quite alright. The place looks spotless, you should be proud."
"TH-thank you, Your Imperial Highness," she said. "I--I'll let the priests know you're here, with your permission." You nodded in assent and she scrambled to her feet and hurried off towards the small side-building, which you had to assume was where the priests that cared for the shrine lived. As you waited, you heard feet coming up the stairs behind you and a murmur of voices that came suddenly to a stop as they reached the top. You glanced behind you to see a group of wide-eyed villagers dressed in what must have been their best clothing. Before anyone could press their foreheads to the ground, you smiled and motioned for them to join you on the landing before the path. There was a murmur of surprise and then the group stepped up around you, though no one passed the point where you were standing and no one seemed willing to come closer than three or four feet.
As you waited for the priests, the small crowd grew larger and occasionally you glanced behind you to see that in the back, some parents were holding their children up so they could see you. This kind of odd celebrity treatment felt strange, and you weren't sure what to do except to maintain a stoic poise.
Thankfully, you didn't have to think about too much longer as the door of the priest's residence opened and a procession made its way out. In the lead, leaning on the arm of the young shrine maiden, was the oldest man you thought you had ever seen. He had to be positively ancient, with wisps of white hair and a liver-spotted head. He was frail and his skin seemed almost like paper, but he managed to walk mostly under his own power, leaning heavily on the staff that was his symbol of office and on the shrine maiden. Behind him came a much, much younger man also dressed as a priest. The crowd fell silent as they approached and at last, they stopped in front of you. All of them bowed, though you feared the old man might well snap in half. You bowed in return and they straightened.
When he spoke, though, the priest's voice seemed remarkably clear for a man of such advanced age.
"Your Imperial Highness, Arisukawa-no-miya Haruna-hime, welcome to our humble shrine," his voice, though reedy and soft, seemed to carry.
"I am Hidemasa, chief priest of this shrine. This is my great...great...ah,
great grand-daughter, Kikyo, one the maiden who attends this shrine, and this…" He gestured feebly towards the younger man, who despite being younger than the priest, still looked to be at least in his mid-thirties. You also now recognized him as the man from the dock, who had asked you to come here.
"...is my assistant priest, Daisuke. We thank you most fervently for your presence here at our most humble of shrines. Like the Spirits, the imperial presence has returned to bless us. To think I should live to see it. I am fortunate. I have seen such change in my life. When I was a boy, we could hardly have expected to see such things as flying machines or steam engines. The Spirits have been kind enough to allow me a long, long life." He bowed again, supported by Kikyo. "If you would do us the great honor of praying within."
"I am happy to do so," you said in your best Imperial Princess voice. "How fortunate the people here are to have such a well-tended shrine and such devoted priests. I am honored, truly."
It felt strange to be compared so openly to the spirits and their transient nature, the way they were said to move from shrine to shrine through the country. You weren't a spirit. Just a woman. And yet… The thought was shaken from your mind as you followed the priests and the shrine maiden towards the place of prayer. It was a formal process. You ritually rinsed your hands in water, making sure you were clean enough, and then once within the small holy space, you clapped your hands to call the attention of the spirits and began to pray.
You were not an especially devout woman, but it seemed appropriate to ask that this place be prosperous, kept safe from the war, and blessed by the spirits and gods. You lit some incense and left it to burn in the small offering bowl, and just sat in the space for a while. You did this a lot more when you were a child, before politics and the Academy took precedence over those royal duties. You didn't exactly miss it, but there was a nostalgia here, and a bit of guilt for neglecting your spiritual life that kept you watching the burning incense a little longer than you might normally.
When you stepped out into the sunlight, the crowd was still staring, and you walked past them in a silence that felt eerie and surreal.
---
The next day, after inspecting the
Kari and breakfast with the officers, you decided to take a trip into the village proper to talk to the village girl. In this case, taking a trip meant walking up the road from the beach through scattered houses, looking for the one you'd been pointed to. It apparently had a red doorway.
You'd pulled up the files on Seaman Tsuda. His full name was Tsuda Kentaro and he was (completely unsurprisingly) from Shimazu. Technically a suburb of Shimazu, but he was an urban boy who had volunteered for the war. It seemed like he had a pile of relatives in or in close proximity to the Navy already, which is probably how he got a posting on a ship despite being just 17. They were trying to cut down on things like that, owing mostly to the Albians doing it and not wanting to look uncivilized.
On the other hand, you knew nothing about the family other than that they were important (the father was the local headman) and their family name, Ito. You stepped up to the door and called inside, and in a moment you were met by a middle aged man and woman. They were expecting you, of course, you'd sent word ahead yesterday. They beckoned you inside the house, which was a well kept affair in the traditional (that is, old-fashioned) style with a steep roof covered in thatch and straw.
Thanks to the family's relative importance, the place even had multiple rooms with the main room having a wooden floor into which was set the old-fashioned hearth. You didn't have a chance to see much else--not that you really needed to. Shoes removed, you settled down into a traditional sitting posture while the woman of the house put on a kettle over the stove, and after a few small pleasantries, tea was set to brew and you were able to get down to business.
"You're here about our Ran, of course?" The father, Tadashi, asked at last, broaching the subject before you had a chance. He was a rough looking man with sun-darkened, almost leathery skin and rough hands from years of hauling and mending fishing line. Like her husband, his wife also seemed to be worn down by the hard labor their life in the village pressed upon them--even just managing the house and helping her husband with processing his catch was a lot of work.
"Yes. Unfortunately Lieutenant Mizutani was unable to resolve things before his transfer orders arrived. It's my hope that we can bring this issue to a swift and amicable conclusion." You said. "I would like to speak with her as well, if that's possible?"
"She's out right now. You know how young people are." The mother, Miho, said dismissively.
"I'm sure she'll be back at some point, after we've made a decision."
Hmm. That was… a red flag. No point pushing the issue right now, though.
"Right, fair enough. Now, obviously, this is a somewhat unusual circumstance. Ah…" You racked your brain for a way to phrase this delicately. "It's a rare occurrence that a pregnancy occurs in an unplanned manner these days."
The father made a grunting noise and crossed his arms.
"Perhaps that's so in the big city, but you know how things are out here. It can be hard to get modern luxuries, let alone real medicine." Ah, he was one of those. At least he was no nonsense and willing to speak his mind in this case. But.. it was his daughter.
"Is Ran your only child, Mister Ito?" You asked.
"No. She has an older sister, who got married to one of the farmers over in Futatsi-sen. Has a family and everything now. And her brother, but…" Tadashi scowled, the deep lines of his rugged face seeming to get even deeper. "He ran off to find a job somewhere else a few years ago. He is a sailor on a merchant vessel now--sometimes he writes." Miho looked to one side and you followed her gaze towards one of the little nooks, where decorative objects and important family items might be kept. There were a few postcards there--one of them you recognized as the harbor of San Cristobal. Ah.
"How would you want to see this resolved, then, Mister Ito?" You continued. "I only have some limited authority here, obviously, but since Seaman Tsuda is under my command, I feel compelled to do what I can to address the situation. It's the responsible thing to do."
"Of course, we understand," said Tadashi. "And we are thankful for your attention. We would like the boy to of course, make an honest woman out of her--I think everyone can agree on that." Miho nodded in agreement and you gave a small nod as well. You didn't really want to have kids yourself, but you knew that when this sort of thing
did occur, however rare, the best thing was to take responsibility.
"Of course," you said.
"We would want both of them to remain here, however," Tadashi continued. That caught you off guard. If the girl did marry Tsuda, then she (legally) would be part of his household and so her parents wouldn't really have any authority to keep her here--nor could they keep him here. Technically he was a minor until he reached age 21, but as a sailor in the Imperial Akitsukuni Navy he was liable to be shuffled around as the mysterious whims of the Admiralty saw fit. You frowned.
"That is a steep order, Mister Ito," you said, trying to be diplomatic. "Seaman Tsuda is a sailor of Her Imperial Majesty's Navy. As much as you would like him to remain here, it's quite possible that we could receive orders telling us all to leave here tomorrow and we would have to obey them. That is the burden we carry as dutiful sailors. And if he were to marry your daughter, I expect he would want to take his wife with him. Or send her to live with his relatives."
At that point, the conversation was interrupted by the sound of something dropping in the next room. You glanced over towards the door which slid open a moment later. There was a young woman there, perhaps sixteen, with long hair tied up into a bun. She was… plain as girls went, but perhaps you were just too used to modern cosmetics. She was dressed in a simple kimono in a brown and white pattern that was a touch threadbare. She didn't
look pregnant, but… that just meant it was still early days yet.
"Ran? Happy to have you back. Do you mind taking a seat?" You asked, fully aware she'd probably been there the entire time. She nodded and came in to sit down, stoically ignoring the glares her parents were sending her way. You raised your cup of tea and sipped, taking a moment to try and think of how to approach this. Her opinion was the one that mattered here, regardless of what her mother thought. Ahem, what her parent's thought.
You had interviewed Tsuda the previous evening and he had expressed his willingness to do the right thing--even a little excited by the prospect of being a father, as young as he was. He had a good heart, at least. So it was all on Ran right now. Before you could find a delicate way to broach the subject, Ran spoke up. Like father, like daughter…
"Kentaro says he'll marry me, so I don't know why we have to make this a big deal," She said, her look at her father speaking
volumes. "And I'm going to go with him when he gets transferred." When. Not if.
"You're too young!" Her mother snapped. "You should at least stay here until you've had the child, travelling while you're pregnant is dangerous! Besides, he can take over the fishing when he gets out of the Navy. Somebody has to." Ah. That seemed to illuminate what this was really about.
"Seaman Tsuda isn't exactly a sailor of fishing boats." You interjected. "He works in the engine spaces as a mechanic. If he keeps up the good work, which I see no reason to doubt, he'll rate a machinist's mate by the time he's got two years in the service and the potential of a long career as a petty officer." And he was also raised in a cozy suburb. Even if he left the service, you couldn't imagine he was eager to run off to a life without running water. More likely he'd take up more lucrative work in shipyards or machine shops.
"He's young. He can learn." Miho said.
"Frankly, that's not up to you." You said sternly. "Seaman Tsuda isn't going to be able to make any decisions about his future until he finishes his first four years of service and can decide if he wants to stay in the Navy or become a civilian again. I understand the desire to keep your daughter close to home," even if you didn't like it, "but you're not in a position to dictate her, ahem. Future husband's actions. That's up to Her Imperial Majesty's Navy for the time being."
"Then perhaps she won't be married then. I think we're done here." Takeshi's scowl just got deeper.
You shrugged and picked yourself off the floor. "Of course. That is your right as her parents. Have a lovely day, all of you." You bowed, and left, and sure enough, Ran followed you out the door, despite the protests of her mother and her father bellowing after her like an ox.
"They said they can keep me from getting married while I'm still part of my father's household." She said quietly, keeping pace with you as you walked back towards the naval camp.
"No. That law was abolished a few years ago. Though, since you are under the age of majority, that might complicate things."
"How complicated?"
"Obviously, I'm no expert, but since you are so young you may need them to sign your marriage certificate in order to make it completely legal. But… by marrying you would be emancipated from their household. It's one of those areas where the various new laws haven't quite matched up with each other yet. I would have to look it up to be certain, though. I don't exactly make marriage law a priority in my day to day."
She giggled at that. You looked at her for a moment.
"This pregnancy wasn't accidental, was it?" It went against your instincts to put it out in the open so bluntly, but you needed to know all the facts to make this work. Ran turned a bit pink and looked down at her feet, then shook her head.
"...We wanted to get married but we knew my parents would never agree if there wasn't something else to push them. S-So…." She trailed off and you smiled.
"You don't need to say any more."
"It's the only way I'll be able to get away from this village," she said. "My brother gets to see the world and travel all over the place. Not just to Shimazu or Tokei but to Ganjay and New Allegheny and all over! My sister…" She frowned. "She's stuck living with some farmer on the same island we grew up on. I--I don't want to do that. And Kentaro is really nice and sweet and he talks about the tram cars and trains and electricity. I want to see a train!"
"In due time. I'm going to write a letter to a friend of mine, he's very well versed in law." Aiko's middle brother wasn't exactly a friend, but he seemed a nice enough sort. "I'll talk to you again as soon as I can and we'll have a solution for you, one way or another."
"Thank you so much." She said, bowing furiously. "This means a lot to me."
You smiled, but it was sad, really. She was one of the reasons you were here, in uniform: girls like her deserved to have a way to get out of places like this, just the same as her brother did. She shouldn't have to resort to this.
But until then, she'd have to make do, just like women had in your country for all the centuries before.
---
You finally got back to the base and spent the rest of the day chasing down a series of irritating minor problems. Mostly supply irregularities, but there was a bit of a scare when an inspection revealed a torpedo with a faulty detonator, meaning it was effectively live and had been for some unknown amount of time. Messing with the detonator seemed too risky, so after some deliberation you had it slid out over the side where it sunk to the bottom of the bay. You all waited for a blast, but none came, so after an hour you were mostly relaxed.
Mostly.
Finally, you judged the day's work more or less finished, left the petty officers in charge, and retreated to the informal officer's mess, which was a room Maeda had set aside for the officers to crash. He had even arranged a little drink cabinet in the corner, which was deeply appreciated. You helped yourself to a small glass and leaned against some of the cushions in the corner of the room. If there was a problem in the next… nine-ish hours, somebody else could deal with it.
A few minutes later, Ensign Ishinari shuffled into the room, hanging his hat with a sigh and collapsing directly into the corner. You'd never seen anyone so exhausted, and honestly you thought he should probably head back to his quarters, but you had a nice buzz going and would kill for some conversation.
"Exciting day, Ensign?" You asked.
"We could have died." He replied, partially muffled by the cushion he was face-down in.
"Well, yes. Welcome to the Navy." You said. "Get something to drink. You'll feel better."
He mumbled something back that seemed so absurd you were sure you misheard him.
"Sorry, say that again?"
"I don't drink." He repeated, shifting his head to say it clearer.
"Spirits, man, why not?" You said. You didn't know anyone who didn't drink at least occasionally. It seemed like such a fundamental human experience.
"It's complicated. I don't really want to get into it, Lieutenant." He said, shifting to prop himself up.
"That's fair. So you just going to sit there?" You asked.
Either he'd talk, or he'd drink. He was a little uptight, but that could be fixed with a little pressure from his peers.
He chose to talk.
"It's a religious thing." He said, sounding quite ashamed. "My family are Ichthysian."
"Ichthysian's don't drink? I thought wine was an important part of the whole… thing." That couldn't be true. You'd seen plenty of drunk Westerners at parties, including more than a few missionaries. Maybe he reserved getting drunk for church.
"We're not supposed to, ma'am. Most denominations don't keep to it, though."
Well, that was a rabbithole you weren't sure you wanted to go down. You were vaguely aware that there were Ichthysians, and a subset of them were Latitudinarians who had some kind of weird government. The idea that it was
even more complicated was one you weren't sure your brain was up to, but you were also curious.
"So, which denomination are you? I know there are Latitudinarians… uh. What else?"
"Ordainist, ma'am. We split from the Albian Church."
Oh spirits there were
lineages. You were having flashbacks to memorizing every royal family line in Cathay, Akitsukuni, and Europa when you were in primary school.
"So Ordanists don't drink?"
"No. We also don't gamble, dance, smoke, swear, wear jewelry, dress extravagantly, or attend the theater. We also fast regularly. And abstinence before marriage, of course." Sweet spirits, it was like becoming a Bodhisattvan monk.
"Why would you put up with all that?"
"To get into heaven." He said matter of factly. Frankly, that didn't seem worth it.
"So… what do you do for fun?" The ensign winced a little and you felt a touch guilty. You were his superior and he couldn't really tell you to knock it off. No doubt he'd had these questions before.
But you were a little drunk and you were curious.
"I read a great deal, and I can play sports and games that don't involve gambling. I'm very fond of baseball. And of course we can play music and socialize. There are plenty of ways for us to unwind that don't involve those sorts of things, ma'am."
"Suppose you're right. I'm a little surprised to meet people of uh, your faith in the service, is all. It's not very common with that whole non-violence thing." You swirled your glass and took another sip of the liquor inside.
"Sure you don't want a drink?" Didn't hurt to see if he was really that devoted. "Our little secret?"
"Very certain, ma'am. And I only want to serve my country, ma'am. We aren't exactly a pacifist sect like the Friends Society, and service to your nation is next to service to God."
Your turn to wince. Those things were supposed to be one and the same, more or less, in the Akitsukuni military. Even if you were in on the joke of the Empress' supposed divinity, there was no question she was closer to the divine than your average person.
"So, you really throw in with all that stuff, huh? Am I going to hell for loving women?"
"Nobody is damned for love, ma'am." He deflected deftly, but he sounded very nervous. You might have found a weak spot. You decided that perhaps this needed just a little bit more force.
"How about for
fucking women, then." You said. It was a rare chance you got to use language like that, and honestly you shouldn't have used it here, but the effect was
delightful. Ishinari's cheeks bloomed into a bright pink color and he shot to his feet.
"I--My apologies, lieutenant, I believe that I have some duties that still require my attention." He bowed hurriedly, grabbed his hat, and hurried out of the room before you could object. Damn, uptight wasn't he? It was just a question.
Ugh. You would have to try and make a better impression later. But… You were his superior officer. It didn't matter what kind of impression he had in the end, right? He'd probably look down on you anyway for your preferences. And your drinking. And the jewelry. And you
liked dancing. And the theater.
You poured yourself another drink. Obviously, this was his problem. You were the normal one. The most normal woman in the damn Navy.
---
That night as you made your way home, you saw Ishinari again. He was heading back towards his billet--from the area where the various officers of the air station slept. That was strange. And you didn't like it. What if he was reporting on you? Not to Maeda, but to that little prick Nashimoto Kageyasu. It would be just like him and his asshole family to try and keep tabs on you. Fuck, you hated that guy. You slouched home to your simple little home and threw yourself down on your futon, barely managing to hang your uniform jacket up before bothering. Even drunk, you cared about the uniform.
Unfortunately, the lack of electricity meant that your 'lady's friend' was useless (AGAIN) and instead you had to settle for curling up and feeling sad that Aiko wasn't here with you. This was stupid. You could be doing so much to get you sent to Ichthysian hell right now and you weren't. You missed Aiko. You missed Tokei. You missed running water. You really missed Aiko. Especially how soft she was and the way she breathed quietly when she was sleeping and the smell of her hair and the way her hands touched you and just...
You missed everything about Aiko. She was so good. You didn't deserve her. You were kind of a terrible person. Why did you treat the ensign like that? That was terrible. Maybe you should apologize in the morning? Spirits, since when were you this sad when you dr--
---
Urgh.
Morning. You woke up bleary eyed as the sun crawled across your face, the light a little too bright. Your head ached a little and your mouth felt dry. You'd had worse hangovers but for some reason this one was hitting you harder than normal. Too bad you still had things to do today. Lots of things.
What was going to be your priority today?
[ ] You still need to make sure Kageyasu isn't up to something shady out here. You can never tell with these assholes.
[ ] Maybe get that law research done for Ran? It's not your responsibility, technically, but maybe you could get a head start instead of just waiting for the letters.
[ ] Take the torpedo boat out on another patrol, farther this time. There's some rocky islands that could be hiding a Caspian listening post… which would be a good excuse to get the men excited for action.
[ ] Arrange a joint exercise with the air group. It was unlikely a little boat like yours would coordinate directly with the scout planes, but they could use the practice and it was a chance to run the engines and take the crew's mind off the torpedo.
[ ] Yesterday was a close scare. It might be time to inspect the ship from top to bottom and test everything to avoid any future incidents.
[ ] No reason we can't get a head start on the baseball teams.
