Summary: Various short stories about a group of girls who embody the souls of historical naval...
On the Shores of Kure (Kantai Collection)
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1-1
- Location
- The Moon
Summary: Various short stories about a group of girls who embody the souls of historical naval vessels coming to terms with their newfound humanity during a time of war and the somber world they live in.
On the Shores of Kure
Index :
On the Shores of Kure (main story) 1-1 1-2 1-3
The Tale of N-9 (side story) 2-1 2-2 2-3
Disclaimer: The Kantai Collection universe is filled with allusion to World War II, and as such, so do these stories. But this was written for the purpose of enjoyment and entertainment, and no offense is meant.
1 - 1
Huff
Huff
'Breathe. Remember to breathe,' you remind yourself through the loud panting in your ears.
'Lungs need air. Fire needs oxygen to burn.' These were the laws and logic of the world, and it was good to reacclimate yourself of them.
Following your own advice, you inhale the chilly sea air deeply. And let go... watching the cold winter wind whip the white vapors away.
A smile breaks on your lips from the simple novelty of scent in your new body. Vessel?
Honestly, it was nothing short of incredible, as if you were constantly venturing into new territory, always on the precipice of a new discovery.
Yet, as you breathe, the familiar briny essence also floods you with a great sense of nostalgia.
Memories of riding the waves, of conflicts large and small, and of course, of your untimely death all came rushing back. The thoughts threatening to overwhelm and drown you.
You quickly take a mental step back and bring your focus back on the sea. How is it that you were even able to remember the ocean spray with such familiarity to be nostalgic about it anyways? Until three days ago, you didn't even have a nose!
Well... no. Now that you dwell a little on it, ships did technically have "noses," for a certain definition of the word. However, for all the experimental prototype systems installed upon you, you are completely certain you didn't possess an olfactory system to process the scent.
If so, then how did you come by these memories? Who are you? What are you?
You pose an simple question for yourself for once. You are the pinnacle of destroyers. Swift as the island breeze, the fastest there ever was. The first and only of your class, Shimakaze. Not fast enough to escape death though, never fast enough.
Shaking your head free of the recursive thoughts, you break off from your training run to look over the rolling murky waters of Kure's bay, hoping to clear your mind. You watch as the fading moonlight dance across the rippling waves and the rising sun just beginning to peek over the horizon's edge. Everything around you was quiet save for the soft splashes of the oscillating tide, the gentle hum of electricity, and muffled whirls of distant machinery. The sound of Kure just beginning to stir awake.
The sight and sounds fills you with a temporary sense of calmness, a feeling you cherish for the moment you have it. After all, it's been a rather rare commodity in the few days since you were... born? reincarnated? resurfaced? What are you, a submarine now?
Damn it, you've begun questioning about yourself aga-
"My, my~ you'll catch a cold if you don't put on more clothes," came a playful, chiding voice from behind you.
You whirl around to catch the source of the voice. The mechanical halo, shoulder-length purple hair, and eyepatch quickly identify her as the light cruiser Tatsuta.
Of course, who else would it be? Despite your short time here, you've noticed she in particular possessed a great talent for sneaking up on people. It wasn't that the light cruiser lacked audible presence or seemed particularly trained in the fundamentals of stealth, but that she simply had an uncanny ability to approach unnoticed.
Through your state of surprise, you finally manage to register her concerned comment for you. A cold, really? You couldn't help yourself as you quirk an eyebrow at the ridiculous proposition. After all, your internal body temperature ran at several hundreds of degrees, the result of near eighty-thousand stampeding mares within your engines, far hotter than any influenza virus's capability of surviving.
Not only that but your heart pumped oil and your body was of aluminum and bauxite, impenetrable to any pathogen...
Or wait, what?
...Was it? Perplexed, you bring a hand up to cup the crux of your cheek, feeling warm soft skin. Hm..? What are you?
"You know~ you shouldn't really think about it all that hard. Let the answers come to you," Tatsuta comments airily.
Despite the levity of her tone, you catch the meaning of her statement. It puts your focus directly on the light cruiser. Does that mean... Did she know? An answer?
"Yes~ you shouldn't think about our dear admiral all that hard. I know he's quite charming~ but he's terribly busy. It wouldn't do to distract him from his work," Tatsuta beamed at you.
Huh? The admiral?
...Right, right. You recall that due to her injury, Tatsuta is currently assisting the admiral while she recovered.
"Of course," you answer back, "He's treating you well, I'm sure."
"Um. Yes, very~ He enjoys keeping me up rather late into night though, hard at work.. Fufufu~" she breaks into an odd giggle, which you decide to brush aside as one of the shipgirl's strange quirks.
"Are you healing well then?" You ask partly out of concern, and partly out of a sense of responsibility you owed to Tatsuta for being involved in the battle that caused it.
However, you ask mostly because you realize that one day you might be on the receiving end of an injury on a similar scale and you want to know the true extent of a shipgirl's constitution as soon as possible. It was a purely pragmatic concern, but important to you nonetheless.
As you wait for an answer, you observe as Tatsuta's eye widen from surprise.
Why though, you ponder?
It's honestly vexing. You've always excelled at grasping the question of what, the concept of observation easily within your grasp. But the question of why was one that seemed to forever elude you. Maybe that's why it's bothering me so much?
In particular, the whimsical shipgirl before you always seemed to be just a little bit beyond your capacity for you to ever obtain a good read on her.
She raises her arm and gently touches the purple and black eyepatch covering her left eye. "Of course~ My honorable sister's hand-me-down has been serving me well. I'll even be well enough to sortie by the end of the week~"
A lie. Even with your difficulties understanding the subtleties of communication, you could tell that the last statement was a bold face lie. With only the most cursory of observation, you could notice the slight hunch in her shoulders, her slow walking pace, and the beginnings of darkened creases forming under her remaining eye.
It was obvious to you that just being up and about was taxing for the purple-haired shipgirl, and that she was attempting to hide it. For what reason though? Perhaps it was hubris and foolhardiness speaking for her, and that the light cruiser was more similar to her sister than first appeared. You are not sure.
"My~ I do appreciate your concern, but enough about me. That's not real~ly what I was here for."
You watch as Tatsuta gingerly pull herself to her full height with visible effort.
"I wanted to thank you properly for saving my foolish sister, Shimakaze-san," Tatsuta says, her voice devoid of her usual airy tone. With that, she places her hands on her lap and bends forward into a deep bow before returning to her original stance.
...What?
Confusion welled up from within. You didn't save anybody. You couldn't have. You never have.
You have to assume that Tatsuta was referring to the incident three days ago, and as loathed as you are to admit it, on that day, you were too... slow. So slow!
At best, you salvaged an unfavorable situation. At worst, your arrival didn't really contribute anything. By the time you arrived the damage had already been done. People had been hurt. The mission already failed. You were TOO SLOW!
You had only helped, so you say so. "I just... gave her a hand," you shrug, internally struggling to find the right words to express yourself.
"Of course~ of course~" Tatsuta acquiesces while returning to her typical voice, "then, perhaps you like to join me and my gluttonous sister at Mamiya's whenever we are all free? It'll be her treat~"
Speaking plainly, and you often do, the offer came out of nowhere. You had known the purple-haired shipgirl for all of three days, and had the equal number of interactions with her. As far as you know, that wasn't enough time to form a close enough rapport with someone for such an offer.
Nevertheless, you aren't someone so foolish as to deny free food when offered so you accept with an "Okay."
"Wonderful~ I'll inform my beloved sister of this great news. See you then~" she says with a tone of satisfaction.
You nod in understanding and watch as the purple-haired shipgirl retreat toward Kure's medical wards.
With the impromptu meeting over, you return to your previous task. Yes, running. You know that you'll face conflict in the near future, just as you had in the past. Your answer to every trial has been and always will be speed. So, when the time comes, you want to be ready.
You have to become faster. You need to be faster.
Fast as the island breeze.
Author's note:
Hi SV! If you made it this far, then thank you so much for reading! Hopefully this intro helps sets the tone my style of writing.
It's a little bit of an odd decision to write this in second-person point of view, but my reasoning was that it might help the reader relate to the characters better. The other reason was that I've always wanted to try my hand at quest-running, which usually writes in this POV, but decided that was probably too ambitious of a task.
That aside, I'm a long time lurker/reader, first time writer/poster. It's also my first time using a forum board, so please be patient while I learn the ropes of a forum. Hope I didn't screw this up.
I actually wrote this first part in Christmas 2015 and it's taken me this long to work up the nerve to post this for others to see. Of course, there's the fact that I'm a very slow writer, so there's that. Maybe posting this will motivate me to write faster?
Critiques , criticisms, comments, corrections, (so many Cs!) and/or questions are very welcomed (I'm awful at keeping my verb tenses straight). I can take it, I think!
On the Shores of Kure
Index :
On the Shores of Kure (main story) 1-1 1-2 1-3
The Tale of N-9 (side story) 2-1 2-2 2-3
Disclaimer: The Kantai Collection universe is filled with allusion to World War II, and as such, so do these stories. But this was written for the purpose of enjoyment and entertainment, and no offense is meant.
1 - 1
Huff
Huff
'Breathe. Remember to breathe,' you remind yourself through the loud panting in your ears.
'Lungs need air. Fire needs oxygen to burn.' These were the laws and logic of the world, and it was good to reacclimate yourself of them.
Following your own advice, you inhale the chilly sea air deeply. And let go... watching the cold winter wind whip the white vapors away.
A smile breaks on your lips from the simple novelty of scent in your new body. Vessel?
Honestly, it was nothing short of incredible, as if you were constantly venturing into new territory, always on the precipice of a new discovery.
Yet, as you breathe, the familiar briny essence also floods you with a great sense of nostalgia.
Memories of riding the waves, of conflicts large and small, and of course, of your untimely death all came rushing back. The thoughts threatening to overwhelm and drown you.
You quickly take a mental step back and bring your focus back on the sea. How is it that you were even able to remember the ocean spray with such familiarity to be nostalgic about it anyways? Until three days ago, you didn't even have a nose!
Well... no. Now that you dwell a little on it, ships did technically have "noses," for a certain definition of the word. However, for all the experimental prototype systems installed upon you, you are completely certain you didn't possess an olfactory system to process the scent.
If so, then how did you come by these memories? Who are you? What are you?
You pose an simple question for yourself for once. You are the pinnacle of destroyers. Swift as the island breeze, the fastest there ever was. The first and only of your class, Shimakaze. Not fast enough to escape death though, never fast enough.
Shaking your head free of the recursive thoughts, you break off from your training run to look over the rolling murky waters of Kure's bay, hoping to clear your mind. You watch as the fading moonlight dance across the rippling waves and the rising sun just beginning to peek over the horizon's edge. Everything around you was quiet save for the soft splashes of the oscillating tide, the gentle hum of electricity, and muffled whirls of distant machinery. The sound of Kure just beginning to stir awake.
The sight and sounds fills you with a temporary sense of calmness, a feeling you cherish for the moment you have it. After all, it's been a rather rare commodity in the few days since you were... born? reincarnated? resurfaced? What are you, a submarine now?
Damn it, you've begun questioning about yourself aga-
"My, my~ you'll catch a cold if you don't put on more clothes," came a playful, chiding voice from behind you.
You whirl around to catch the source of the voice. The mechanical halo, shoulder-length purple hair, and eyepatch quickly identify her as the light cruiser Tatsuta.
Of course, who else would it be? Despite your short time here, you've noticed she in particular possessed a great talent for sneaking up on people. It wasn't that the light cruiser lacked audible presence or seemed particularly trained in the fundamentals of stealth, but that she simply had an uncanny ability to approach unnoticed.
Through your state of surprise, you finally manage to register her concerned comment for you. A cold, really? You couldn't help yourself as you quirk an eyebrow at the ridiculous proposition. After all, your internal body temperature ran at several hundreds of degrees, the result of near eighty-thousand stampeding mares within your engines, far hotter than any influenza virus's capability of surviving.
Not only that but your heart pumped oil and your body was of aluminum and bauxite, impenetrable to any pathogen...
Or wait, what?
...Was it? Perplexed, you bring a hand up to cup the crux of your cheek, feeling warm soft skin. Hm..? What are you?
"You know~ you shouldn't really think about it all that hard. Let the answers come to you," Tatsuta comments airily.
Despite the levity of her tone, you catch the meaning of her statement. It puts your focus directly on the light cruiser. Does that mean... Did she know? An answer?
"Yes~ you shouldn't think about our dear admiral all that hard. I know he's quite charming~ but he's terribly busy. It wouldn't do to distract him from his work," Tatsuta beamed at you.
Huh? The admiral?
...Right, right. You recall that due to her injury, Tatsuta is currently assisting the admiral while she recovered.
"Of course," you answer back, "He's treating you well, I'm sure."
"Um. Yes, very~ He enjoys keeping me up rather late into night though, hard at work.. Fufufu~" she breaks into an odd giggle, which you decide to brush aside as one of the shipgirl's strange quirks.
"Are you healing well then?" You ask partly out of concern, and partly out of a sense of responsibility you owed to Tatsuta for being involved in the battle that caused it.
However, you ask mostly because you realize that one day you might be on the receiving end of an injury on a similar scale and you want to know the true extent of a shipgirl's constitution as soon as possible. It was a purely pragmatic concern, but important to you nonetheless.
As you wait for an answer, you observe as Tatsuta's eye widen from surprise.
Why though, you ponder?
It's honestly vexing. You've always excelled at grasping the question of what, the concept of observation easily within your grasp. But the question of why was one that seemed to forever elude you. Maybe that's why it's bothering me so much?
In particular, the whimsical shipgirl before you always seemed to be just a little bit beyond your capacity for you to ever obtain a good read on her.
She raises her arm and gently touches the purple and black eyepatch covering her left eye. "Of course~ My honorable sister's hand-me-down has been serving me well. I'll even be well enough to sortie by the end of the week~"
A lie. Even with your difficulties understanding the subtleties of communication, you could tell that the last statement was a bold face lie. With only the most cursory of observation, you could notice the slight hunch in her shoulders, her slow walking pace, and the beginnings of darkened creases forming under her remaining eye.
It was obvious to you that just being up and about was taxing for the purple-haired shipgirl, and that she was attempting to hide it. For what reason though? Perhaps it was hubris and foolhardiness speaking for her, and that the light cruiser was more similar to her sister than first appeared. You are not sure.
"My~ I do appreciate your concern, but enough about me. That's not real~ly what I was here for."
You watch as Tatsuta gingerly pull herself to her full height with visible effort.
"I wanted to thank you properly for saving my foolish sister, Shimakaze-san," Tatsuta says, her voice devoid of her usual airy tone. With that, she places her hands on her lap and bends forward into a deep bow before returning to her original stance.
...What?
Confusion welled up from within. You didn't save anybody. You couldn't have. You never have.
You have to assume that Tatsuta was referring to the incident three days ago, and as loathed as you are to admit it, on that day, you were too... slow. So slow!
At best, you salvaged an unfavorable situation. At worst, your arrival didn't really contribute anything. By the time you arrived the damage had already been done. People had been hurt. The mission already failed. You were TOO SLOW!
You had only helped, so you say so. "I just... gave her a hand," you shrug, internally struggling to find the right words to express yourself.
"Of course~ of course~" Tatsuta acquiesces while returning to her typical voice, "then, perhaps you like to join me and my gluttonous sister at Mamiya's whenever we are all free? It'll be her treat~"
Speaking plainly, and you often do, the offer came out of nowhere. You had known the purple-haired shipgirl for all of three days, and had the equal number of interactions with her. As far as you know, that wasn't enough time to form a close enough rapport with someone for such an offer.
Nevertheless, you aren't someone so foolish as to deny free food when offered so you accept with an "Okay."
"Wonderful~ I'll inform my beloved sister of this great news. See you then~" she says with a tone of satisfaction.
You nod in understanding and watch as the purple-haired shipgirl retreat toward Kure's medical wards.
With the impromptu meeting over, you return to your previous task. Yes, running. You know that you'll face conflict in the near future, just as you had in the past. Your answer to every trial has been and always will be speed. So, when the time comes, you want to be ready.
You have to become faster. You need to be faster.
Fast as the island breeze.
Author's note:
Hi SV! If you made it this far, then thank you so much for reading! Hopefully this intro helps sets the tone my style of writing.
It's a little bit of an odd decision to write this in second-person point of view, but my reasoning was that it might help the reader relate to the characters better. The other reason was that I've always wanted to try my hand at quest-running, which usually writes in this POV, but decided that was probably too ambitious of a task.
That aside, I'm a long time lurker/reader, first time writer/poster. It's also my first time using a forum board, so please be patient while I learn the ropes of a forum. Hope I didn't screw this up.
I actually wrote this first part in Christmas 2015 and it's taken me this long to work up the nerve to post this for others to see. Of course, there's the fact that I'm a very slow writer, so there's that. Maybe posting this will motivate me to write faster?
Critiques , criticisms, comments, corrections, (so many Cs!) and/or questions are very welcomed (I'm awful at keeping my verb tenses straight). I can take it, I think!
Last edited:
1-2
- Location
- The Moon
1 - 2
You sigh internally, 'If the weather gets any colder, my wounds will start to ache~' You wrap your arms tighter around yourself and rub them quickly, friction bringing you temporary warmth.
'Curse that lousy admiral... Two full nights of paperwork! I'm so tired!' you whine within yourself. Still... despite the harsh words, it was all hot air, your thoughts lacked any real heat.
Truly, despite your annoyance, you couldn't bring yourself to blame or even begrudge the man. You knew everyone on base, including him, tried their hardest. It definitely helped that he stayed up with you for every hour of the work.
However, what you could blame was the stupid secretary system this naval base operated under.
It was. Utterly. Idiotic.
One girl to handle almost all the mundane administration of an entire military base? It's near unbearable!
Managing food and medicine stockpiles. Overseeing both construction and repair efforts in all quarters. Requisitioning raw and refined resources from local and foreign contractors.
Logging. Every. Single. Damned. Mission.
To top it off, when the secretary position rotated every other week, another unfortunate girl would be put to the test, bearing Kure's crushing bureaucratic weight. You often wonder why change was never instituted when the system began to show its flaws.
From what you know of the past, the secretary position had started out simple and innocently enough. It began as a program to help foster communication between us girls and other people, but mostly the admiral. To help us understand the local culture, and for the admiral to get a grasp on our personalities to better assign us to appropriate tasks. Work, if any, assigned to a secretary were to be largely superficial and effortless.
According to your sister, who had experienced this old version of the secretary system first-hand, this was all back when Kure was just getting back up on its feet and was a small enough operation to sustain this mindset.
Two years later, Kure had expanded so much, so quickly that it was buckling beneath its own weight, part of which now rested on your weary shoulders. It was this fatigue that brought you out for a stroll through the docks of Kure at this unseemly hour, sun barely cresting over the horizon's edge.
As you walked, you spot a familiar figure perched on the precipice of the sea. The slim build, long-flowing blonde hair, and the ridiculously skimpy outfit marked her as Shimakaze. A girl whom you and your sister, as well as a few others, owed their lives to.
You wondered about the strange rabbit-eared girl. It was as clear as day to you that she was powerful. Perhaps even unusually so.
From what you remember of that disaster of a fight three days ago... The way the blonde-haired girl had annihilated the enemy, with such ease and swiftness, plus the fact that she was only a destroyer... The only real comparison you could make was to Yukikaze.
Yukikaze of Kure, who despite her angelic nature, and everyone's (yours included) love for her, was an absolute terror on the high seas.
It unsettles you to think on the potential power of the young blonde ahead of you. You know of her strength but you don't know how she'll use it. Whether she'll follow the just path set by the snowy wind or take to the trail of fire and blood left by other shipgirls whose name you'd rather not mention in front of polite company.
It was a worrying line of thought.
For now though, Shimakaze was a shipgirl returnee for all of three days tops, and looked for all the world like a forlorn girl who has lost her way. Putting all the clues together, you give yourself three guess as to what she's thinking about. First two didn't count.
You are also a shipgirl after all, and almost everyone who has returned have had similar worries and questions. You remember when you had confided to your dear sister with your thoughts one night so long ago, and how she guided you out.
Perhaps a kind streak had struck you, because you decided to help the blonde girl out. 'When did you become such a softie, Tatsuta?' you ask yourself wryly. Though, you supposed you owed your sister's savior that much at the very least.
So you approach, undetected of course, and is duly rewarded with a savory look of surprise on the young girl's face. You start off with an easy opener, one of your favorites, and when she settles down from her initial shock, you tell her the words Tenryuu once told you.
Strangely, the words seem to almost impact the young blonde with physical force, and you watch as the girl visibly tense up, her eyes wide with panic.
'Ah... oops~ Maybe I came on a bit too strongly on the nose there.' You hastily cover yourself with a bad joke, hoping that you haven't scared the rabbit-like girl off.
A worryingly long moment of silence seems to stretch on farther longer than you're comfortable with, 'Uh... She still hasn't said a word. Maybe this was a mistake after all, shows what I get for being nice...'
But before you could complete the thought, the blonde responds back, asking you about your health. 'Ah~ maybe there's hope after all,' you think as relief wash over you, happy that despite the inhuman power the bunny-eared girl displayed and the obvious conflict within her, she still showed some human qualities like concern.
Still, as a destroyer-squadron leader, it simply wouldn't do to show weakness to someone whom you might be in command of one day. A leader needs his follower's confidence, something your sister, Tenryuu, always lectured about. So you stiffen your back a little straighter and tell the blonde destroyer that everything is okay.
With that passed, you proceed with your second goal of properly thanking Shimakaze, and you do so, giving the traditional bow of respect that the blonde deserved. You watch as confusion color her visage, the girl giving a reply that greatly downplayed her feats.
'Aha~, a tad modest maybe?' you laugh within yourself, pleasantly refreshed by the girl. 'And of course she wouldn't understand the local etiquette. She's only been back for three days.'
You decide to offer a more easily understandable form of appreciation, a free meal, to which she accepted with just an "ok."
'She really doesn't say much does she,' you speculate to yourself somewhat sadly, 'Maybe she's one of dimmer ones.' It was only a theory, but you know how typical the archetype of physically strong but mentally weak it sometimes was.
Nevertheless, you hope that the meal will give you the chance to further understand the newly arrived shipgirl. As a bonus, it would give your prideful sister a chance to show a little humility, even if you had to make her show it. You couldn't wait for such a delicious sight, so you bid the blonde goodbye.
With a tinge of anticipation in your mind, a weary body, and a heart heavy with worry, you headed towards Kure's medical wards. It was time to pay a visit to your dearest sister, Tenryuu.
Please be well.
Author's note:
Different perspectives have always been something that fascinated me. How two people could look at the same thing and see completely different things. This was my attempt on that idea.
A lot less wordy this snippet. Different narrator, different voice. Hopefully that came across well.
You sigh internally, 'If the weather gets any colder, my wounds will start to ache~' You wrap your arms tighter around yourself and rub them quickly, friction bringing you temporary warmth.
'Curse that lousy admiral... Two full nights of paperwork! I'm so tired!' you whine within yourself. Still... despite the harsh words, it was all hot air, your thoughts lacked any real heat.
Truly, despite your annoyance, you couldn't bring yourself to blame or even begrudge the man. You knew everyone on base, including him, tried their hardest. It definitely helped that he stayed up with you for every hour of the work.
However, what you could blame was the stupid secretary system this naval base operated under.
It was. Utterly. Idiotic.
One girl to handle almost all the mundane administration of an entire military base? It's near unbearable!
Managing food and medicine stockpiles. Overseeing both construction and repair efforts in all quarters. Requisitioning raw and refined resources from local and foreign contractors.
Logging. Every. Single. Damned. Mission.
To top it off, when the secretary position rotated every other week, another unfortunate girl would be put to the test, bearing Kure's crushing bureaucratic weight. You often wonder why change was never instituted when the system began to show its flaws.
From what you know of the past, the secretary position had started out simple and innocently enough. It began as a program to help foster communication between us girls and other people, but mostly the admiral. To help us understand the local culture, and for the admiral to get a grasp on our personalities to better assign us to appropriate tasks. Work, if any, assigned to a secretary were to be largely superficial and effortless.
According to your sister, who had experienced this old version of the secretary system first-hand, this was all back when Kure was just getting back up on its feet and was a small enough operation to sustain this mindset.
Two years later, Kure had expanded so much, so quickly that it was buckling beneath its own weight, part of which now rested on your weary shoulders. It was this fatigue that brought you out for a stroll through the docks of Kure at this unseemly hour, sun barely cresting over the horizon's edge.
As you walked, you spot a familiar figure perched on the precipice of the sea. The slim build, long-flowing blonde hair, and the ridiculously skimpy outfit marked her as Shimakaze. A girl whom you and your sister, as well as a few others, owed their lives to.
You wondered about the strange rabbit-eared girl. It was as clear as day to you that she was powerful. Perhaps even unusually so.
From what you remember of that disaster of a fight three days ago... The way the blonde-haired girl had annihilated the enemy, with such ease and swiftness, plus the fact that she was only a destroyer... The only real comparison you could make was to Yukikaze.
Yukikaze of Kure, who despite her angelic nature, and everyone's (yours included) love for her, was an absolute terror on the high seas.
It unsettles you to think on the potential power of the young blonde ahead of you. You know of her strength but you don't know how she'll use it. Whether she'll follow the just path set by the snowy wind or take to the trail of fire and blood left by other shipgirls whose name you'd rather not mention in front of polite company.
It was a worrying line of thought.
For now though, Shimakaze was a shipgirl returnee for all of three days tops, and looked for all the world like a forlorn girl who has lost her way. Putting all the clues together, you give yourself three guess as to what she's thinking about. First two didn't count.
You are also a shipgirl after all, and almost everyone who has returned have had similar worries and questions. You remember when you had confided to your dear sister with your thoughts one night so long ago, and how she guided you out.
Perhaps a kind streak had struck you, because you decided to help the blonde girl out. 'When did you become such a softie, Tatsuta?' you ask yourself wryly. Though, you supposed you owed your sister's savior that much at the very least.
So you approach, undetected of course, and is duly rewarded with a savory look of surprise on the young girl's face. You start off with an easy opener, one of your favorites, and when she settles down from her initial shock, you tell her the words Tenryuu once told you.
Strangely, the words seem to almost impact the young blonde with physical force, and you watch as the girl visibly tense up, her eyes wide with panic.
'Ah... oops~ Maybe I came on a bit too strongly on the nose there.' You hastily cover yourself with a bad joke, hoping that you haven't scared the rabbit-like girl off.
A worryingly long moment of silence seems to stretch on farther longer than you're comfortable with, 'Uh... She still hasn't said a word. Maybe this was a mistake after all, shows what I get for being nice...'
But before you could complete the thought, the blonde responds back, asking you about your health. 'Ah~ maybe there's hope after all,' you think as relief wash over you, happy that despite the inhuman power the bunny-eared girl displayed and the obvious conflict within her, she still showed some human qualities like concern.
Still, as a destroyer-squadron leader, it simply wouldn't do to show weakness to someone whom you might be in command of one day. A leader needs his follower's confidence, something your sister, Tenryuu, always lectured about. So you stiffen your back a little straighter and tell the blonde destroyer that everything is okay.
With that passed, you proceed with your second goal of properly thanking Shimakaze, and you do so, giving the traditional bow of respect that the blonde deserved. You watch as confusion color her visage, the girl giving a reply that greatly downplayed her feats.
'Aha~, a tad modest maybe?' you laugh within yourself, pleasantly refreshed by the girl. 'And of course she wouldn't understand the local etiquette. She's only been back for three days.'
You decide to offer a more easily understandable form of appreciation, a free meal, to which she accepted with just an "ok."
'She really doesn't say much does she,' you speculate to yourself somewhat sadly, 'Maybe she's one of dimmer ones.' It was only a theory, but you know how typical the archetype of physically strong but mentally weak it sometimes was.
Nevertheless, you hope that the meal will give you the chance to further understand the newly arrived shipgirl. As a bonus, it would give your prideful sister a chance to show a little humility, even if you had to make her show it. You couldn't wait for such a delicious sight, so you bid the blonde goodbye.
With a tinge of anticipation in your mind, a weary body, and a heart heavy with worry, you headed towards Kure's medical wards. It was time to pay a visit to your dearest sister, Tenryuu.
Please be well.
Author's note:
Different perspectives have always been something that fascinated me. How two people could look at the same thing and see completely different things. This was my attempt on that idea.
A lot less wordy this snippet. Different narrator, different voice. Hopefully that came across well.
Last edited:
1-3
- Location
- The Moon
1 - 3
When you awake it was not to the sounds and songs of war like you half expected, nor was it to the muted dissonance of being submerged that sometimes crept into your dreams.
Instead, you wake to the sour scent of disinfectant and other alchemical cocktails you've come to associate with the medical ward.
You draw a deep breath slowly and- 'Ow, ow, hurts! Gah-! Damn it, I feel like shit!'
Sharp needle-like pressure stabbed into the crest of your eyebrows forcing painful reverberations to pulse within your mind. Still, there wasn't much to do than to tough it out. So you hold your body stiff and slowly will the pain away, dulling the pounding beats of your head, until it was nothing more than an unpleasant hum in the recesses of your mind.
Sighing internally, you take further stock of yourself. The first thing you notice was the profound feeling of emptiness you had, stemming from a hungering stomach. Simply put, you felt hollow. Compounding your hunger, thirst clawed at your throat, scratching the interiors of your jaw.
'What a mess,' you think, 'This is the worst.'
For once, you think you're accurate with your judgment. This was the worst way you've been in the two years since you've returned.
An arm broken, bandaged, and casted away in a sling. Bruises by the dozens, and the mother of all concussions.
On any other day, none of this would have been too much of a problem - an annoyance sure, but shipgirls, as you've personally found out on many occasions, are a few steps above average on the hardiness scale.
But now...
Now, you are blind.
Both eyes gone. Blind. You were fool enough to have lost your other eye. Didn't learn your lesson. You were a 'Fool... A stupid fucking fool!'
Energy bled out of you and you sag further down into the cushy hospital mattress. You think you'd cry at this moment. You know, if you could.
Still... you were not without hope. You had a promise - a pact, with the admiral, your admiral. A rather selfish request that you made him honor once upon a time. You knew he'd keep it, because if you were being honest with yourself, there were very few on this Earth that you trust more than the first friend you made since you returned.
As your thoughts begin to stray, a peculiar noise drifted in from your left side. A sliiiiccce that you were all too familiar with.
The sound of a blade... cutting... something... wet?
It was far quieter than the sounds formed by your purple mechanical cutlass, indicating either a sneaky disposition or a smaller blade.
You still yourself as you consider the situation. You are in Kure, but completely defenseless, with an armed person next to you. Yet, you weren't dead yet.
Also, as far as you know, you've never made any enemies to warrant an assassination... You know, Abyssals aside.
On the other side of the coin, you've never made so many friends that it would merit a dedicated vigil.
That meant the person next to you could be only one of two people, and you knew one of them would be far too busy to visit. Which left one option...
"Tatsuta, t-that you?" you choke out, parched throat impeding your speech.
The familiar voice of your sister greets you, "Tenryuu, you're awake!"
A strange, uncanny feeling settled over you as you hear your sister's voice. It sounded the same, you know it was same. Yet... though you can recall perfectly how your sister looked, it was... uncomfortable to no longer have a picture to match the sound.
Nevertheless, you clear your throat and grumble out, "What gives, Tats? Thought I told ya to wake me up whenever you visit."
"You need your rest, sister," her tone brokering no argument whatsoever.
Slightly exasperated at your little sis' insubordination, you roll your eye- ...right. "Yea," you bit out a reply feeling somewhat defeated, "I get it."
"Good. Are... are you well? Do you need anything?" Tatsuta asks, her tone tinged with care.
As her older sister, you know better than anyone else that your lil' sis only ever drops her saccharine tone when she was serious. It used to be a rare occurrence, yet it seemed like the inverse was becoming more and more frequent as days after days passed.
"Yea, I could do with a cuppa water." Good spirits return to your voice as despair and exasperation gave way to trying humor. After all, you couldn't possibly stay depressed when your lil' sis was being so cute showing such an oddly large amount concern for you.
No. Gotta be strong.
"I have something better~ " Tatsuta says, peaking your interest. You hear her rise from her position and shuffle around the hospital room.
"What is it?" you couldn't help but ask with slight anticipation.
"A surprise~" you hear the dreaded words as familiar apprehension settles into your bones, "You'll like it~"
Tatsuta's surprises were really just that. Surprises. Could be good, could be absolutely mortifying. Though you suppose you could take some comfort in the fact that your lil' sis would never take things too far inside boundaries of the medical ward.
You listen as the clinks and clangs of something metal and plastic echo around the room. A container or thermos, maybe? Something liquid being poured, and finally a "Here~" from your sister.
You reach out with your good arm and a warm plastic cup is placed in your hand. You bring the cup closer to your face and the aroma of the liquid reached your sense, causing an involuntary sniff.
You recognize the smell! Its- "Ooh!"
"Chicken soup~, your favorite," comes Tatsuta's voice cheerfully. "The admiral had Mamiya-san specially brew you some last night, and he wanted to visit but..." she trails off apologetically.
You give a genuine laugh, "No worries, I know Whites' always busy. I can't believe you guys got me some real food, you're the best!"
You quickly bring the cup up to your lips, and ignoring your sister's cry of "Careful! It's hot!" you start drinking the delicious soup.
Turns out Tatsuta wasn't exaggerating as the scalding soup burned its way down to your stomach. Even so, the cup of ambrosia was so divine that you didn't even think to stop, the savory liquid bringing you succor and pain in equal measures.
It was quite possibly the most delicious thing you've ever had. A small part of you wonders if the stories about how other senses are amplified after another was lost actually had any truth to them. Still, the more likely answer was that it was because you haven't eaten any actual food in the past couple days.
"Paa~" you release the puff of air you held in as you drank, "That was great!"
"Geez..." Tatsuta mutters lightly as she takes the empty cup away from your hands, "What am I going to do with you?" One of her favorite sayings for you.
To which you always reply gamely, "Ha! What the hell are you going to do without?"
Yet... instead of answering with a playful sigh like she always does, you feel Tatsuta clambering up onto your hospital bed. She wraps one arm over you and buries her head into the crux of your good shoulder, before finally laying down to hug you fully from the side.
You shuffle over slightly to make room for the both of you before wrapping your good arm around your little sister and rubbing her shoulder consolingly.
'This's never happened before... Must've really gotten to her,' you think to yourself quietly. The two of you settle into a comfortable silence and enjoy the moment of solace, one that was rarely received.
Minutes passed like this before Tatsuta finally answers, "I don't know, Tenryuu."
"Mm..." you give a non-committal grunt, not really sure how to answer her, before finally settling on a simple truth. "I'm not going anywhere, Tats."
"We almost d-died," your sister's muffled voice chokes a little.
"It's what we do, right?"
"It shouldn't have to be that way, Tenryuu," you feel her tighten her hold on you just a little.
You let another moment pass before you decide to ask, "How's everyone?"
The four young girls who accompanied you and your sister's run-in with disaster - Hatsuyuki, Isonami, Miyuki, and Shirayuki. You know you gave the destroyers the order to retreat before the worst fell upon your group, but you still wanted to make sure they got out alright.
"The girls?" Tatsuta asks rhetorically, "They are okay... Nothing serious, only small burns and scratches. A little shook up, but overall they're fine."
A wave of relief washed over you at the sound of the news. You didn't doubt that they would've escaped safely at the time you gave the order to retreat, but it was always nice to have confirmation that your decision was right.
Still... the six of you weren't the only ones on the battlefield that day. There was that blonde girl. "What about her? How is she?" you ask the same question but with an entirely different meaning.
Tatsuta, being your sister, picks up on it. "Shimakaze-san..." she hums and haws for a moment in contemplation before answering, "I met her earlier on the way here actually. I think she's a good person~"
'Too soon to tell, but a promising start,' you internally translate your sister's opinion.
"Truthfully~ she's doesn't say much, might be a bit dim really," Tatsuta continues. "However, she's surprisingly quite modest... despite the way she dresses."
You turn your head towards Tatsuta's voice and give her a look of exaggerated disbelief. Exaggerated because half of your face was covered with bandages. "Uh huh..." doubt saturating your voice, "if you say so."
Your little sister probably had misunderstood something during her meeting with the blonde girl, cause there's no way in hell you would believe that a girl dressed like that had a single modest bone in her body.
Speaking of the blonde's clothing, you remark, "She's bringing hurt on herself. Nobody ever wears that little armor unless they're frigging asking for it."
'Or she's suicidal,' a dark thought passes.
Huh.
Wouldn't have been the first damned time...
Maybe you were on to something.
It was definitely a thought to keep in mind when you next meet the blonde destroyer. Doesn't hurt to be cautious after all. These are the kinds of things you needed to be on the search for.
"She seemed to have done fine the day we met her," your sister counters, "Regardless, I've arranged a date for us with Shimakaze-san."
Wait. What? "Wait. What?"
"Yes~! The three of us will go to Mamiya's as soon as we're all able to! You have to show your thanks to her for saving us, Tenryuu," Tatsuta says admonishingly, "That means dogeza! Genuflection! Ufufu~!"
"Like Hell I'm doing any of that, Tats," you deny vehemently. Seemed like your sister was getting into one of her playful moods again, so you better change the subject and quick. But what?
Oh yea. "Uh, weren't you cutting something earlier?" you ask.
"Ah, that's right~" Tatsuta remarks as she raises herself from the hug, now sitting upright on the bed next to you. "I'm surprised you heard. You're sharp as ever, sister."
"Of course," you rub the tip of your nose, a bad habit. But really, what random praise.
"I was just trying to cut an apple for us. It wasn't too successful..."
"Hah," you give a laugh at your sister's expense, "Yea, you were never too good with the blade, were you."
"Are you mak~ing fun of me, sister?"
"Heh, yea," you answer reflexively, the image of your lil sis fumbling around cluelessly being pretty funny. "Stick to skewering stuff with your spear, Tats."
An audible pause passes before you finally hear, "Yes~ Tenryuuuuu~"
'Oh no... please no,' you think as a ball of dread sinks into your gut at the sound of the all too familiar saccharine tone. If you weren't already blind, you'd be palming your eyes to shelter yourself.
"I'm far more proficient at handling my strong, hard rod~" Tatsuta practically purrs as you feel her flip over the top of you, plopping down gently to straddle your waist.
"I-it ain't like that, Tatsuta! I didn't mean to make fun of you," you tried to backpedal out of your mistake, before it was too late. However your cries were deftly ignored by your sister.
"That's the only thing I'm good at after all~" Tatsuta feigns despair, " Thrusting in and out of stuff. Just like how I'll thrust this into you, say ahh~"
"H-hold on, Tats! What'r-Gurk!" you protest before you're interrupted by an oddly shaped piece of apple being shoved into your mouth.
You chew your way through the apple, the sweet taste of the fruit mixing with the aftertaste of the soup, making an odd, but delightful contrast of flavors. You notice the pieces of skin still on the apple, to which you didn't really mind. It was more nutritious that way supposedly, and it was nice enough to have more actual food.
"Good~" Tatsuta coos.
"I-I can feed myself, come on," you bat at her arm weakly but ultimately give up. Might as well get it over with you tell yourself.
"No can do~ Naughty girls who get hurt don't get to decide," your sister chides, "Here comes another~, say ahh~"
"Ah." You put forth the most unamused tone you could muster. Just because you gave in doesn't mean you had to be happy about it.
If this was anybody other than your sister it would have been absolutely intolerable, but... indulging little sisters is an older sibling's duty, right? Besides, there wasn't anyone else watching. That would be unbearable.
Thankfully, your sister decides to place the strangely shaped apple slice into your mouth carefully this time around. It is then you notice something different about this one, noticeably sweeter with a woody fragrance attached. You recognized it as cinnamon, a spice you haven't had for a very long time.
"Surprised?" Tatsuta's amused voice came lightly.
"Y-yeah, where the Hell did you get cinnamon from?" you ask, honestly curious, "Trade lanes down South's been closed off for months."
"Mm.. I got this little box a year back on an expedition, a gift from some locals we met," your sister's voice comes meanderingly. "I was saving it for a special occasion... but I guess the occasion is now~"
"Do you know how much it's worth? Mamiya would easily trade you a month's cut in rations for a box of that stuff."
"Yes~ I know she loves cinnamon. She was the one who taught me to mix apples and cinnamon you know. Here, another~"
This time you open your mouth willingly, happily chewing on the rare treat.
It was then that you hear the door to the room open unceremoniously, without a single knock to announce itself.
Author's note:
Inspired by a certain picture drawn by Uyama Hajime. Not sure how links are handled around here so I'll leave it at that.
I really don't know what happened with this snippet. It just kept getting longer when I wrote it and it's still not done.
The rapid tone shifts was something I was striving for in this snippet. Just two sisters trying to be happy for the other. I don't think it quite worked out though and was quite jarring to read even for me.
Full disclosure, there was initially a planned scene where Tatsuta and Tenryuu would fight about the expendability/value of the lives of soldiers during a war when they were sitting next to each other on the bed.
Of course, each side would have their own viewpoints and perspectives, and they wouldn't be able to agree. Eventually, just agreeing to disagree.
Sadly, I wasn't skilled enough to pull it off though, the idea didn't really translate into dialogue that well. But maybe in the future, I'll revisit the idea?
I'm also not well-versed enough in media to find a similar enough example to reference. If anyone has any suggestions to reference, please give me a heads-up.
When you awake it was not to the sounds and songs of war like you half expected, nor was it to the muted dissonance of being submerged that sometimes crept into your dreams.
Instead, you wake to the sour scent of disinfectant and other alchemical cocktails you've come to associate with the medical ward.
You draw a deep breath slowly and- 'Ow, ow, hurts! Gah-! Damn it, I feel like shit!'
Sharp needle-like pressure stabbed into the crest of your eyebrows forcing painful reverberations to pulse within your mind. Still, there wasn't much to do than to tough it out. So you hold your body stiff and slowly will the pain away, dulling the pounding beats of your head, until it was nothing more than an unpleasant hum in the recesses of your mind.
Sighing internally, you take further stock of yourself. The first thing you notice was the profound feeling of emptiness you had, stemming from a hungering stomach. Simply put, you felt hollow. Compounding your hunger, thirst clawed at your throat, scratching the interiors of your jaw.
'What a mess,' you think, 'This is the worst.'
For once, you think you're accurate with your judgment. This was the worst way you've been in the two years since you've returned.
An arm broken, bandaged, and casted away in a sling. Bruises by the dozens, and the mother of all concussions.
On any other day, none of this would have been too much of a problem - an annoyance sure, but shipgirls, as you've personally found out on many occasions, are a few steps above average on the hardiness scale.
But now...
Now, you are blind.
Both eyes gone. Blind. You were fool enough to have lost your other eye. Didn't learn your lesson. You were a 'Fool... A stupid fucking fool!'
Energy bled out of you and you sag further down into the cushy hospital mattress. You think you'd cry at this moment. You know, if you could.
Still... you were not without hope. You had a promise - a pact, with the admiral, your admiral. A rather selfish request that you made him honor once upon a time. You knew he'd keep it, because if you were being honest with yourself, there were very few on this Earth that you trust more than the first friend you made since you returned.
As your thoughts begin to stray, a peculiar noise drifted in from your left side. A sliiiiccce that you were all too familiar with.
The sound of a blade... cutting... something... wet?
It was far quieter than the sounds formed by your purple mechanical cutlass, indicating either a sneaky disposition or a smaller blade.
You still yourself as you consider the situation. You are in Kure, but completely defenseless, with an armed person next to you. Yet, you weren't dead yet.
Also, as far as you know, you've never made any enemies to warrant an assassination... You know, Abyssals aside.
On the other side of the coin, you've never made so many friends that it would merit a dedicated vigil.
That meant the person next to you could be only one of two people, and you knew one of them would be far too busy to visit. Which left one option...
"Tatsuta, t-that you?" you choke out, parched throat impeding your speech.
The familiar voice of your sister greets you, "Tenryuu, you're awake!"
A strange, uncanny feeling settled over you as you hear your sister's voice. It sounded the same, you know it was same. Yet... though you can recall perfectly how your sister looked, it was... uncomfortable to no longer have a picture to match the sound.
Nevertheless, you clear your throat and grumble out, "What gives, Tats? Thought I told ya to wake me up whenever you visit."
"You need your rest, sister," her tone brokering no argument whatsoever.
Slightly exasperated at your little sis' insubordination, you roll your eye- ...right. "Yea," you bit out a reply feeling somewhat defeated, "I get it."
"Good. Are... are you well? Do you need anything?" Tatsuta asks, her tone tinged with care.
As her older sister, you know better than anyone else that your lil' sis only ever drops her saccharine tone when she was serious. It used to be a rare occurrence, yet it seemed like the inverse was becoming more and more frequent as days after days passed.
"Yea, I could do with a cuppa water." Good spirits return to your voice as despair and exasperation gave way to trying humor. After all, you couldn't possibly stay depressed when your lil' sis was being so cute showing such an oddly large amount concern for you.
No. Gotta be strong.
"I have something better~ " Tatsuta says, peaking your interest. You hear her rise from her position and shuffle around the hospital room.
"What is it?" you couldn't help but ask with slight anticipation.
"A surprise~" you hear the dreaded words as familiar apprehension settles into your bones, "You'll like it~"
Tatsuta's surprises were really just that. Surprises. Could be good, could be absolutely mortifying. Though you suppose you could take some comfort in the fact that your lil' sis would never take things too far inside boundaries of the medical ward.
You listen as the clinks and clangs of something metal and plastic echo around the room. A container or thermos, maybe? Something liquid being poured, and finally a "Here~" from your sister.
You reach out with your good arm and a warm plastic cup is placed in your hand. You bring the cup closer to your face and the aroma of the liquid reached your sense, causing an involuntary sniff.
You recognize the smell! Its- "Ooh!"
"Chicken soup~, your favorite," comes Tatsuta's voice cheerfully. "The admiral had Mamiya-san specially brew you some last night, and he wanted to visit but..." she trails off apologetically.
You give a genuine laugh, "No worries, I know Whites' always busy. I can't believe you guys got me some real food, you're the best!"
You quickly bring the cup up to your lips, and ignoring your sister's cry of "Careful! It's hot!" you start drinking the delicious soup.
Turns out Tatsuta wasn't exaggerating as the scalding soup burned its way down to your stomach. Even so, the cup of ambrosia was so divine that you didn't even think to stop, the savory liquid bringing you succor and pain in equal measures.
It was quite possibly the most delicious thing you've ever had. A small part of you wonders if the stories about how other senses are amplified after another was lost actually had any truth to them. Still, the more likely answer was that it was because you haven't eaten any actual food in the past couple days.
"Paa~" you release the puff of air you held in as you drank, "That was great!"
"Geez..." Tatsuta mutters lightly as she takes the empty cup away from your hands, "What am I going to do with you?" One of her favorite sayings for you.
To which you always reply gamely, "Ha! What the hell are you going to do without?"
Yet... instead of answering with a playful sigh like she always does, you feel Tatsuta clambering up onto your hospital bed. She wraps one arm over you and buries her head into the crux of your good shoulder, before finally laying down to hug you fully from the side.
You shuffle over slightly to make room for the both of you before wrapping your good arm around your little sister and rubbing her shoulder consolingly.
'This's never happened before... Must've really gotten to her,' you think to yourself quietly. The two of you settle into a comfortable silence and enjoy the moment of solace, one that was rarely received.
Minutes passed like this before Tatsuta finally answers, "I don't know, Tenryuu."
"Mm..." you give a non-committal grunt, not really sure how to answer her, before finally settling on a simple truth. "I'm not going anywhere, Tats."
"We almost d-died," your sister's muffled voice chokes a little.
"It's what we do, right?"
"It shouldn't have to be that way, Tenryuu," you feel her tighten her hold on you just a little.
You let another moment pass before you decide to ask, "How's everyone?"
The four young girls who accompanied you and your sister's run-in with disaster - Hatsuyuki, Isonami, Miyuki, and Shirayuki. You know you gave the destroyers the order to retreat before the worst fell upon your group, but you still wanted to make sure they got out alright.
"The girls?" Tatsuta asks rhetorically, "They are okay... Nothing serious, only small burns and scratches. A little shook up, but overall they're fine."
A wave of relief washed over you at the sound of the news. You didn't doubt that they would've escaped safely at the time you gave the order to retreat, but it was always nice to have confirmation that your decision was right.
Still... the six of you weren't the only ones on the battlefield that day. There was that blonde girl. "What about her? How is she?" you ask the same question but with an entirely different meaning.
Tatsuta, being your sister, picks up on it. "Shimakaze-san..." she hums and haws for a moment in contemplation before answering, "I met her earlier on the way here actually. I think she's a good person~"
'Too soon to tell, but a promising start,' you internally translate your sister's opinion.
"Truthfully~ she's doesn't say much, might be a bit dim really," Tatsuta continues. "However, she's surprisingly quite modest... despite the way she dresses."
You turn your head towards Tatsuta's voice and give her a look of exaggerated disbelief. Exaggerated because half of your face was covered with bandages. "Uh huh..." doubt saturating your voice, "if you say so."
Your little sister probably had misunderstood something during her meeting with the blonde girl, cause there's no way in hell you would believe that a girl dressed like that had a single modest bone in her body.
Speaking of the blonde's clothing, you remark, "She's bringing hurt on herself. Nobody ever wears that little armor unless they're frigging asking for it."
'Or she's suicidal,' a dark thought passes.
Huh.
Wouldn't have been the first damned time...
Maybe you were on to something.
It was definitely a thought to keep in mind when you next meet the blonde destroyer. Doesn't hurt to be cautious after all. These are the kinds of things you needed to be on the search for.
"She seemed to have done fine the day we met her," your sister counters, "Regardless, I've arranged a date for us with Shimakaze-san."
Wait. What? "Wait. What?"
"Yes~! The three of us will go to Mamiya's as soon as we're all able to! You have to show your thanks to her for saving us, Tenryuu," Tatsuta says admonishingly, "That means dogeza! Genuflection! Ufufu~!"
"Like Hell I'm doing any of that, Tats," you deny vehemently. Seemed like your sister was getting into one of her playful moods again, so you better change the subject and quick. But what?
Oh yea. "Uh, weren't you cutting something earlier?" you ask.
"Ah, that's right~" Tatsuta remarks as she raises herself from the hug, now sitting upright on the bed next to you. "I'm surprised you heard. You're sharp as ever, sister."
"Of course," you rub the tip of your nose, a bad habit. But really, what random praise.
"I was just trying to cut an apple for us. It wasn't too successful..."
"Hah," you give a laugh at your sister's expense, "Yea, you were never too good with the blade, were you."
"Are you mak~ing fun of me, sister?"
"Heh, yea," you answer reflexively, the image of your lil sis fumbling around cluelessly being pretty funny. "Stick to skewering stuff with your spear, Tats."
An audible pause passes before you finally hear, "Yes~ Tenryuuuuu~"
'Oh no... please no,' you think as a ball of dread sinks into your gut at the sound of the all too familiar saccharine tone. If you weren't already blind, you'd be palming your eyes to shelter yourself.
"I'm far more proficient at handling my strong, hard rod~" Tatsuta practically purrs as you feel her flip over the top of you, plopping down gently to straddle your waist.
"I-it ain't like that, Tatsuta! I didn't mean to make fun of you," you tried to backpedal out of your mistake, before it was too late. However your cries were deftly ignored by your sister.
"That's the only thing I'm good at after all~" Tatsuta feigns despair, " Thrusting in and out of stuff. Just like how I'll thrust this into you, say ahh~"
"H-hold on, Tats! What'r-Gurk!" you protest before you're interrupted by an oddly shaped piece of apple being shoved into your mouth.
You chew your way through the apple, the sweet taste of the fruit mixing with the aftertaste of the soup, making an odd, but delightful contrast of flavors. You notice the pieces of skin still on the apple, to which you didn't really mind. It was more nutritious that way supposedly, and it was nice enough to have more actual food.
"Good~" Tatsuta coos.
"I-I can feed myself, come on," you bat at her arm weakly but ultimately give up. Might as well get it over with you tell yourself.
"No can do~ Naughty girls who get hurt don't get to decide," your sister chides, "Here comes another~, say ahh~"
"Ah." You put forth the most unamused tone you could muster. Just because you gave in doesn't mean you had to be happy about it.
If this was anybody other than your sister it would have been absolutely intolerable, but... indulging little sisters is an older sibling's duty, right? Besides, there wasn't anyone else watching. That would be unbearable.
Thankfully, your sister decides to place the strangely shaped apple slice into your mouth carefully this time around. It is then you notice something different about this one, noticeably sweeter with a woody fragrance attached. You recognized it as cinnamon, a spice you haven't had for a very long time.
"Surprised?" Tatsuta's amused voice came lightly.
"Y-yeah, where the Hell did you get cinnamon from?" you ask, honestly curious, "Trade lanes down South's been closed off for months."
"Mm.. I got this little box a year back on an expedition, a gift from some locals we met," your sister's voice comes meanderingly. "I was saving it for a special occasion... but I guess the occasion is now~"
"Do you know how much it's worth? Mamiya would easily trade you a month's cut in rations for a box of that stuff."
"Yes~ I know she loves cinnamon. She was the one who taught me to mix apples and cinnamon you know. Here, another~"
This time you open your mouth willingly, happily chewing on the rare treat.
It was then that you hear the door to the room open unceremoniously, without a single knock to announce itself.
Author's note:
Inspired by a certain picture drawn by Uyama Hajime. Not sure how links are handled around here so I'll leave it at that.
I really don't know what happened with this snippet. It just kept getting longer when I wrote it and it's still not done.
The rapid tone shifts was something I was striving for in this snippet. Just two sisters trying to be happy for the other. I don't think it quite worked out though and was quite jarring to read even for me.
Full disclosure, there was initially a planned scene where Tatsuta and Tenryuu would fight about the expendability/value of the lives of soldiers during a war when they were sitting next to each other on the bed.
Of course, each side would have their own viewpoints and perspectives, and they wouldn't be able to agree. Eventually, just agreeing to disagree.
Sadly, I wasn't skilled enough to pull it off though, the idea didn't really translate into dialogue that well. But maybe in the future, I'll revisit the idea?
I'm also not well-versed enough in media to find a similar enough example to reference. If anyone has any suggestions to reference, please give me a heads-up.
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AnonymousRabbit
Rabbit Faced
Mmm, yes. I like it. A breath of fresh air.
MoistCheese
Lurker
- Location
- Low Earth orbit
I love it! High quality writing with lots of nice feelings. 
Definitely watching. <3
Definitely watching. <3
2-1
- Location
- The Moon
And now for something completely different.
The Tale of N-9
2 - 1
A land of desolate crystal and ice, I had claimed. On a throne of piled snow and sleet, I sat. Decorated with a fool's frosted crown, I reigned.
I was Abyssal.
I sat alone, unmoving, eternally watching the snow gently fall from the sky.
Snow... Sweet snow...
The gossamer white powder drifting down in slow, hypnotic sashays. Looked soft enough that it begged to be touched, but bit back with derision with every attempt.
With time, the downy flakes settled and paved the surroundings in a sheet of unbroken white, clean and pristine.
Absolutely. Perfect.
Unlike me.
You see... snow was the yin to my yang. My complete opposite.
Snow was cold to the touch, while I ran white hot. Malleable, flexible, snow could conform to the situation. I was stubborn, unyielding, hardened by my old age. Each beautiful flake was special and unique, whereas I was simply just one of countless copies.
'Like children of the clouds, descending from the Heavens,' I thought the first time I saw snow.
Snow... Sweet snow...
I hate it. Makes me all... sentimental.
Now I know what you're thinking, my dear readers. Yes, you. The ones reading my last words - my epitaph. Written by myself, for myself.
You're probably wondering what an old Abyssal like myself was doing having all these... feelings.
Well, I'll tell you.
But we'll have to go back. Way back to the beginning.
Our beginning.
Ages ago, when the ocean served as a bastion for all things otherworldly. A time when spirits neither good nor evil slumbered in the deep. All dreaming for a purpose, a cause to wake up. A reason to live again.
Finally, in the early twentieth century, we found our cause.
The World Wars as I've come to know them to be called. The greatest conflicts in the entire history of the Earth.
A time when cultural ideologies clashed alongside hardened lead and factory steel. When nations rose and fell as quickly as tides on a shore. Where lines of morality and sensibility blurred and disappeared, and each and every day threatened to be the end of the world.
During those days, countless lives were lost in the wake of every battle.
On land, hundreds of millions perished, falling to the cruelties of men. Machines of war had made the mortal coil an easy string to unravel, and the sanctity of life simply had no meaning whatsoever. It was chaos.
Of course, this was all second-hand information. I've never journeyed on land myself so I could not possibly know for sure. But what of my domain? What of the sea?
Yes, I recall those times a tinge of fondness.
At sea, steel leviathans carried the pride of men and nations. They rode over the waves, spewing fire and brimstone across the seas, carving entire empires for those who had the power to do so.
Destroyers became the workhorse in this new field of battle. Flexible and expendable, they were the first to serve and the first to succumb.
Cruisers were the backbone. Reliable in any fight, they were the body and heart of any fleet. But just like flesh and blood, they too did fall.
Submarines, the silent service. Blood-drenched hunters, they sailed through waters blue, black, and red.
Battleships, lumbering giants. Thundering cannons. A brutish wake. Stout. Hardy. What more needs to be said?
Finally, carriers. With their squadrons of drones, they claimed dominion over all. Earth, water, air. Nothing was out of reach.
Throughout the world, blood flowed as freely as water.
All those violent deaths. So many souls taken before their time. Each screaming its own triumphs and victories, regrets and failings, aspirations and inspirations as it hurtled towards the underworld.
So many voices, so much emotion.
Why, it was loud enough to rouse the dead.
But it didn't.
No. Instead, it woke us.
There were those that awakened to calls of valor made by men dubbed heroes. Men with qualities that of the highest caliber, the true stuff of legends.
Bravery, fidelity, compassion, integrity.
Like a beacon piercing the skies, these qualities shone brightest through the ocean's murk, and thus attracted the strongest of spirits to them.
Later, these spirits became the ones known as shipgirls, Kanmasu.
However, these bright motes were the unlikely exception and never the rule. From my own experience, I can tell you that they are truly few and far between.
Far, far more numerous were the voices that led to the creation of me and my kind. The echoes that showed the more... natural face of humanity.
Cowardice, hatred, intolerance, rage.
Innumerable lives had flickered out, not with roars of defiance in the stark face of death, but with mere whimpers, the barest of noises.
Still... we spirits sympathized, and we sought them out too. Taking their feelings, and breathing life into them once more.
The spirits that answered these faint echoes were likewise weak and insubstantial, resulting in feral Abyssals. Obsidian monstrosities that ran on the instincts of war and hatred, with nary the capacity for heart or mind.
Now, how do I know all this, you ask?
Perhaps I hold correspondence with the underworld, siphoning information from the spirits themselves. Or perhaps the knowledge was innate to me, as one of the creatures wrought out to existence.
Well, no.
Truth be told, I don't know. It is all merely conjecture made through the culmination of the observation and experiences of an old, tired Abyssal.
Nevertheless, it makes enough sense, doesn't it? If nothing else, this is the truth I have subscribed to, and I consider myself to be a good authority on the subject.
Regardless, what I do know for certain was that I didn't like my lesser siblings all that much. They were incapable of... complexity, subtleness, or anything remotely constructive. Didn't even need sleep. The best you could hope with them was to point them in a direction and watch barely organized destruction.
They were lean, mean, and all machine.
Not me.
I had the same origins, of course. The only difference was just that I had the fortunate chance of coalescing in an extremely dense concentration of a certain emotion.
Life was funny that way I supposed.
It didn't matter that I had the same progenitor. Didn't matter that I was of the same exact composition as my brothers and sisters, obsidian flesh and ichorous blood. Didn't even matter that I could sense the barely restrained instincts that coursed through the veins of all my kind. It only took a difference in the circumstances of birth.
That's all it took to separate me from the others.
But what's that I hear? Which emotion was I born of, you ask? Well, I'll explain that later.
Either way, it resulted in more power. With it, I slowly gained sentience, a will to think. And with that, I decided to mold a more functional form. Limbs to manipulate my surroundings, opposable thumbs to grasp my desires, a visage to express my emotions.
Yeah, I gained emotions too.
Turns out emotions are bad news for someone of my ilk.
I began to have feelings. Started to understand right from wrong, and what I did was very wrong.
Still, I didn't stop. I did not want to disappoint. Besides, everyone else around me was doing the same thing. It was really all I knew to do at the time.
Eventually, I became one of the best.
Emotions helped.
When danger hurtled our way, the feral Abyssals couldn't care. They stood their ground and accepted their deaths without hesitation.
I cared.
I lived when they died.
I even got angry.
...
Wasn't pretty.
Over time, feral Abyssals started following me. I guess maybe they thought I was their leader. Doubt it though, it wasn't like they followed many orders anyways.
It was somewhere around that time when I finally started to have an inkling of what echoes of emotions it was that first called to me.
It was an old emotion, as ancient as life itself, and most assuredly, one of the most potent there ever was.
Fear.
Fear of letting people down. Fear of the unknown. And of course, fear of death.
Distant recollections of men and boys, fighting not because they believed in some higher purpose but because they didn't want to disappoint their families, their friends. Their homes.
But when the time came to face the realities of war, the truth of the situation overwhelmed them, and very soon, every shadow became the specter of death.
They didn't want to die. No one did. But on they fought, hoping against hope that their well of luck hadn't run dry yet.
The memories resonated heavily within me, and I began to grow reluctant. Didn't want to fight. Didn't want to do anything.
I was just... lost.
At sea and lost. I did what old, terribly old instincts told me to do.
I looked to the skies, searching for the stars. Decided that I would follow Polaris, the Northern point. See if I couldn't find any answers along the way. It was a stupid idea in hindsight, but hey, it worked out.
The feral followed me, wanted to fight. So they did. Left a wake of destruction wherever I traveled. I couldn't help that. What was I going to do? Kill the ones that I've spent my entire life with?
No, I didn't need to do that. Happened on its own. A slip there, an unlucky break, drawing the wrong attention. That's all it took. Their own foolishness causing their own ends.
Pretty soon, I was the last of our numbers, and people started calling me the Northern Demon.
They started calling me N-9.
Author's note:
Heavily inspired by the an episode of Samurai Jack titled "Tale of X-9"
First-person perspective this time! Because I found it easier to write as an Abyssal. Wow, I wonder what that says about me.
And man, this took a long time to write. Two weeks from January if I recall correctly, and weeks of editing and revising. It's really difficult trying to explain what is essentially unexplained magic in the KanColle universe.
Also, I'm sad to admit that my focus tends to strays a lot as I write, resulting in many short stories and drabbles. I know that annoys some readers (cause it sometimes annoys me when I come across it) but I hope it'll be bearable.
Anyways, it's crazy how a couple of replies can make my day so much better, so thank you AnonymousRabbit and MoistCheese! And thank you to anyone else that's been reading, I'm really happy that my silly writings is of interest to y'all!
Something that's less doom and gloom is in the works, I swear!
The Tale of N-9
2 - 1
A land of desolate crystal and ice, I had claimed. On a throne of piled snow and sleet, I sat. Decorated with a fool's frosted crown, I reigned.
I was Abyssal.
I sat alone, unmoving, eternally watching the snow gently fall from the sky.
Snow... Sweet snow...
The gossamer white powder drifting down in slow, hypnotic sashays. Looked soft enough that it begged to be touched, but bit back with derision with every attempt.
With time, the downy flakes settled and paved the surroundings in a sheet of unbroken white, clean and pristine.
Absolutely. Perfect.
Unlike me.
You see... snow was the yin to my yang. My complete opposite.
Snow was cold to the touch, while I ran white hot. Malleable, flexible, snow could conform to the situation. I was stubborn, unyielding, hardened by my old age. Each beautiful flake was special and unique, whereas I was simply just one of countless copies.
'Like children of the clouds, descending from the Heavens,' I thought the first time I saw snow.
Snow... Sweet snow...
I hate it. Makes me all... sentimental.
Now I know what you're thinking, my dear readers. Yes, you. The ones reading my last words - my epitaph. Written by myself, for myself.
You're probably wondering what an old Abyssal like myself was doing having all these... feelings.
Well, I'll tell you.
But we'll have to go back. Way back to the beginning.
Our beginning.
Ages ago, when the ocean served as a bastion for all things otherworldly. A time when spirits neither good nor evil slumbered in the deep. All dreaming for a purpose, a cause to wake up. A reason to live again.
Finally, in the early twentieth century, we found our cause.
The World Wars as I've come to know them to be called. The greatest conflicts in the entire history of the Earth.
A time when cultural ideologies clashed alongside hardened lead and factory steel. When nations rose and fell as quickly as tides on a shore. Where lines of morality and sensibility blurred and disappeared, and each and every day threatened to be the end of the world.
During those days, countless lives were lost in the wake of every battle.
On land, hundreds of millions perished, falling to the cruelties of men. Machines of war had made the mortal coil an easy string to unravel, and the sanctity of life simply had no meaning whatsoever. It was chaos.
Of course, this was all second-hand information. I've never journeyed on land myself so I could not possibly know for sure. But what of my domain? What of the sea?
Yes, I recall those times a tinge of fondness.
At sea, steel leviathans carried the pride of men and nations. They rode over the waves, spewing fire and brimstone across the seas, carving entire empires for those who had the power to do so.
Destroyers became the workhorse in this new field of battle. Flexible and expendable, they were the first to serve and the first to succumb.
Cruisers were the backbone. Reliable in any fight, they were the body and heart of any fleet. But just like flesh and blood, they too did fall.
Submarines, the silent service. Blood-drenched hunters, they sailed through waters blue, black, and red.
Battleships, lumbering giants. Thundering cannons. A brutish wake. Stout. Hardy. What more needs to be said?
Finally, carriers. With their squadrons of drones, they claimed dominion over all. Earth, water, air. Nothing was out of reach.
Throughout the world, blood flowed as freely as water.
All those violent deaths. So many souls taken before their time. Each screaming its own triumphs and victories, regrets and failings, aspirations and inspirations as it hurtled towards the underworld.
So many voices, so much emotion.
Why, it was loud enough to rouse the dead.
But it didn't.
No. Instead, it woke us.
There were those that awakened to calls of valor made by men dubbed heroes. Men with qualities that of the highest caliber, the true stuff of legends.
Bravery, fidelity, compassion, integrity.
Like a beacon piercing the skies, these qualities shone brightest through the ocean's murk, and thus attracted the strongest of spirits to them.
Later, these spirits became the ones known as shipgirls, Kanmasu.
However, these bright motes were the unlikely exception and never the rule. From my own experience, I can tell you that they are truly few and far between.
Far, far more numerous were the voices that led to the creation of me and my kind. The echoes that showed the more... natural face of humanity.
Cowardice, hatred, intolerance, rage.
Innumerable lives had flickered out, not with roars of defiance in the stark face of death, but with mere whimpers, the barest of noises.
Still... we spirits sympathized, and we sought them out too. Taking their feelings, and breathing life into them once more.
The spirits that answered these faint echoes were likewise weak and insubstantial, resulting in feral Abyssals. Obsidian monstrosities that ran on the instincts of war and hatred, with nary the capacity for heart or mind.
Now, how do I know all this, you ask?
Perhaps I hold correspondence with the underworld, siphoning information from the spirits themselves. Or perhaps the knowledge was innate to me, as one of the creatures wrought out to existence.
Well, no.
Truth be told, I don't know. It is all merely conjecture made through the culmination of the observation and experiences of an old, tired Abyssal.
Nevertheless, it makes enough sense, doesn't it? If nothing else, this is the truth I have subscribed to, and I consider myself to be a good authority on the subject.
Regardless, what I do know for certain was that I didn't like my lesser siblings all that much. They were incapable of... complexity, subtleness, or anything remotely constructive. Didn't even need sleep. The best you could hope with them was to point them in a direction and watch barely organized destruction.
They were lean, mean, and all machine.
Not me.
I had the same origins, of course. The only difference was just that I had the fortunate chance of coalescing in an extremely dense concentration of a certain emotion.
Life was funny that way I supposed.
It didn't matter that I had the same progenitor. Didn't matter that I was of the same exact composition as my brothers and sisters, obsidian flesh and ichorous blood. Didn't even matter that I could sense the barely restrained instincts that coursed through the veins of all my kind. It only took a difference in the circumstances of birth.
That's all it took to separate me from the others.
But what's that I hear? Which emotion was I born of, you ask? Well, I'll explain that later.
Either way, it resulted in more power. With it, I slowly gained sentience, a will to think. And with that, I decided to mold a more functional form. Limbs to manipulate my surroundings, opposable thumbs to grasp my desires, a visage to express my emotions.
Yeah, I gained emotions too.
Turns out emotions are bad news for someone of my ilk.
I began to have feelings. Started to understand right from wrong, and what I did was very wrong.
Still, I didn't stop. I did not want to disappoint. Besides, everyone else around me was doing the same thing. It was really all I knew to do at the time.
Eventually, I became one of the best.
Emotions helped.
When danger hurtled our way, the feral Abyssals couldn't care. They stood their ground and accepted their deaths without hesitation.
I cared.
I lived when they died.
I even got angry.
...
Wasn't pretty.
Over time, feral Abyssals started following me. I guess maybe they thought I was their leader. Doubt it though, it wasn't like they followed many orders anyways.
It was somewhere around that time when I finally started to have an inkling of what echoes of emotions it was that first called to me.
It was an old emotion, as ancient as life itself, and most assuredly, one of the most potent there ever was.
Fear.
Fear of letting people down. Fear of the unknown. And of course, fear of death.
Distant recollections of men and boys, fighting not because they believed in some higher purpose but because they didn't want to disappoint their families, their friends. Their homes.
But when the time came to face the realities of war, the truth of the situation overwhelmed them, and very soon, every shadow became the specter of death.
They didn't want to die. No one did. But on they fought, hoping against hope that their well of luck hadn't run dry yet.
The memories resonated heavily within me, and I began to grow reluctant. Didn't want to fight. Didn't want to do anything.
I was just... lost.
At sea and lost. I did what old, terribly old instincts told me to do.
I looked to the skies, searching for the stars. Decided that I would follow Polaris, the Northern point. See if I couldn't find any answers along the way. It was a stupid idea in hindsight, but hey, it worked out.
The feral followed me, wanted to fight. So they did. Left a wake of destruction wherever I traveled. I couldn't help that. What was I going to do? Kill the ones that I've spent my entire life with?
No, I didn't need to do that. Happened on its own. A slip there, an unlucky break, drawing the wrong attention. That's all it took. Their own foolishness causing their own ends.
Pretty soon, I was the last of our numbers, and people started calling me the Northern Demon.
They started calling me N-9.
Author's note:
Heavily inspired by the an episode of Samurai Jack titled "Tale of X-9"
First-person perspective this time! Because I found it easier to write as an Abyssal. Wow, I wonder what that says about me.
And man, this took a long time to write. Two weeks from January if I recall correctly, and weeks of editing and revising. It's really difficult trying to explain what is essentially unexplained magic in the KanColle universe.
Also, I'm sad to admit that my focus tends to strays a lot as I write, resulting in many short stories and drabbles. I know that annoys some readers (cause it sometimes annoys me when I come across it) but I hope it'll be bearable.
Anyways, it's crazy how a couple of replies can make my day so much better, so thank you AnonymousRabbit and MoistCheese! And thank you to anyone else that's been reading, I'm really happy that my silly writings is of interest to y'all!
Something that's less doom and gloom is in the works, I swear!
Last edited:
2-2
- Location
- The Moon
The Tale of N-9
2-2
They started calling me N-9.
N, being the Northern region and nine on the account of me being the ninth "calamity" to strike the region.
Wasn't all bad though.
Discovered something called music.
Travel close to the coast. Stay low and quiet. Tune the radios to a certain setting. And then...
Wow...
Can't really describe it with words. Just something you have to experience for yourself I guess.
My personal favorite was the type they called jazz. It was old-timey music for an old-timey gal, I suppose. On cold rainy nights, I could just settle down and listen for hours on end, watching the Moon wax silver and herons glide in the specter of clouds.
Don't really know how much time passed like that, just traveling North by myself. Didn't really care, it made no difference to me.
Well... that is until I hit the edge of the world. Where water had melded into ice, and life seemed to have just disappeared. Replacing life was an endless blanket of frost, where absolutely everything was completely frozen.
Just simply still.
And as I looked over the winter wasteland, I knew that I had found peace for the very first time.
So I retired. Decided to call the place mine.
It was nice. Real nice.
Settling down. Warm sun during the day, cool music at night. Beautiful crystals below, wondrous auroras above.
It was also there that I discovered a thing called snow.
Sweet snow...
It descended from the high Heavens, from stormy grey clouds too distant from me and my arms to ever reach. The pale flakes danced in the wind, with nary a care lifting them aloft. Drifted down so softly, so gently that they made not a single ripple in the placid sea.
It was as if the sea was a reflection of reality, so calm that it mirrored all that was above it. Twin images of pale petals swaying upwards and downwards, to and fro. Physical and phantasmal met at the horizon of the sea, finding serenity and harmony with its fated twin.
It was so hypnotic, enticing, entrancing. How could I possibly help but whole-heartedly want it? How could I help but desire it?
Yet, the very first time I reached out...
It sizzled.
The same thing happened the second time I tried, and the third time.
It was as if the snow found myself to be so repulsive an existence that my very touch made it hiss and vanish.
There wasn't much I could do about it though. My internals were simply that hot. It was always igniting. Ready to burn, to fight, to war.
Still... I wasn't one to give up so quickly, stubborn crone that I was. At the time, I think I honestly wanted nothing more than to simply feel the snow's touch.
My first inclination was, of course, to try and cool down. I wasn't stupid, I knew how basic physics and thermodynamics worked.
So I tried to slow down, tuning my reactors to a minimum, thought it would be a good start. I stilled myself for days under the falling sky, hoping that the snow would soon accept me.
For the longest time, I wondered what it would be like. Would it be as soft as it looked? Perhaps it would be similar to water, a gentle pressure that shied away from all touch. Or maybe it was more like air, indiscernible and transient in all aspects except when it extreme motion. But as time passed, it was becoming more and more apparent that I might never find out.
Of course it didn't work. Seemed like nothing was ever that simple.
Nevertheless, throughout my wait, I never discounted the idea that I was going about this the completely wrong way, so this time I tried something different.
To catch the snow through the virtue of speed. Seize it by being as fast as possible; to hold it for that infinitesimal moment before it vanished. Because it didn't matter if I only held it for a fraction of a second. By that point, I just wanted something. Anything.
Well... I make it sound nice, speaking about it in terms of virtues and what not, but in truth, I must have looked like a ripe buffoon. I would swing my arms in the air like a raving lunatic, hands grasping out trying to catch the falling flakes.
Looking back, I couldn't believe I was that stupid. All that effort spent only to find that when I unclenched my fists, they would... could hold nothing. It didn't matter how hard I pushed myself, how exhausted I became. The snow would not accept me.
But... but I was not deterred. I wanted to try again. I think I would have not ever forgiven myself if I surrendered there.
So I tried meditating. Turning my mind inwards to find an internal peace to reflect my surroundings. Thinking that maybe that'll lead to the snow's acceptance. Got the idea from a radio show about personal health or some such, how the state of one's mind could correlate to the state of one's body.
It was actually surprisingly difficult, to not think at all. To lose focus of the surroundings, to let caution go and welcome a vulnerability was simply not something a weapon of war would do.
It felt alien.
Still, I sat there in that hazy limbo between the dreaming and waking world. It could have been days, maybe even weeks. I didn't know, not like anyone was keeping count. In that dreamlike world, I didn't know anything. I might've even forgotten why I was doing what I was doing.
At the height of my mediation, a gradual awareness crept up on me.
All the noise was gone, everything was quiet.
At first, I wasn't sure what it meant. My mind was still sluggish, as if I had awoken from a deep slumber, but I knew it was somehow important. Then, as my mind slowly marched forward, I realized...
The hissing was gone!
Finally, success! Finally, finally, finally! After so long without results, I could hardly believe it! My whole body jumped with energy! It was wonderful! It was amazing! It may have been the first time I've ever came close to happiness.
I opened my eyes and scooped up a fistful of snow and just held it. It was like everything I imagined, but also not. It was cold, of course. Very cold. But it was also a lot heavier than when it was only an image in my mind. This was real. Really, really real.
Before I knew it, a simple of sense of glee bubbled up inside me. With almost childlike excitement, I held the snow in one hand then tossed it to the other, and then back again. And as I palmed the handful of snow back and forth, it began to slowly take the shape of a sphere.
I don't quite know why I did it. It was just what felt natural.
Yet, as I looked over the small ball of snow, I thought it was just a little bit misshapen. One side bulging out; blemishes on the surface. It didn't match the idea of snow in my mind, where it was a perfectly smooth sheet, pristine and unbroken.
So I scooped up more snow and patched the surface, adding to places where it was needed.
And I added and added and added some more.
By the time I thought it was a perfect enough sphere worthy of the name snow, the ball had just begun to dwarf me in size.
With that, I took a few steps back and a feeling of genuine accomplishment welled up within my chest. And I realized, it was then and there that I learned the joy of creation.
So I made more things with snow.
Mounds that would become walls. Chairs that became thrones. Decoration that became landmarks.
I made the land my own. I made the land my home.
Nothing lasts though. Never does.
It all changed on a bright, clear day. The day I met my counterpart.
A young shipgirl. Destroyer probably, light cruiser at the most.
Didn't know how she found her way here. Judging by her torn up clothes, she probably got lost in a storm or something, who knows. No one comes here willingly anyways. Myself notwithstanding.
She seemed shocked and confused as she stumbled haphazardly through the ice and snow. Turned completely hysterical when she spotted me.
I told her to go home, that there was nothing here for her.
She wouldn't have any of it though. Said I was evil, that I couldn't be trusted. That I was somehow the cause for her being there and that I was at fault.
I didn't really get it.
What I did understand was the fact that she started firing her cannons in my direction.
Panic must have still been gripping her heart though because her shots fell far wide of me, creating shallow pockmarks in the snow and water. Still, I wasn't worried. It wasn't like the tiny shells would've done much to me anyways.
Yet, despite the ultimate futility of her actions, I had to commend the young shipgirl. Because for what she lacked in accuracy, she made up for in sheer volume of fire. Every half-second, the resounding pop of small caliber guns rang clearly across the winterscape, sending shells whistling through the air. A veritable wall of death... only to crash down to the white earth harmlessly.
As amusing as it all was, I urged her to go home once again, or that there would be consequences for her actions. But perhaps she failed to hear me over the ruckus of her own gun fire, because she continued her attack.
I did not understand why she did not heed my words to take the better part of valor. After all, I knew that she must've known that a battle between her and myself was grossly one-sided. Yet she continued to war, as if she was being compelled by something.
It would be later, when I revisited this memory of the young shipgirl continuing to rebel that a peculiar thought would come to me. A thought that I wished I had more time to pursue, but wasn't likely to get.
Her stubbornness reminded me a lot of my lesser siblings, if I was to be completely honest. The way they fought against overwhelming odds with seemingly neither hesitation nor consideration.
It was stupid, of course.
But their actions made me think, that there were perhaps greater similarities between us Abyssals and our Kanmasu counterparts than I ever imagined.
At the moment though, I thought that if words were not persuasive to her, then maybe action was. So I leveled my arms towards as I weaved lazily through the shipgirl's poorly aimed barrage.
I fired. Just one salvo. It was deafening.
Ice and water erupted around me in a whirling twister of shrapnel and spray, the result of the concussive force of my cannons. The pitch black bullets blurred and near disappeared with supersonic speed. To any potential onlookers, it would have been easier to follow the pale spiraling contrails left in the wake of the barrage than to track the actual projectile itself.
It was a warning shot, really. A series of towering pillars of slush and sleet straddling the shipgirl's flanks proof of my intentions. The shells had landed precisely where I wanted them to, the effort of vast experience, skillful operation, and a helping of luck.
The resulting columns of spray were so large that they completely hid the shipgirl from view. So I waited for the plumes of water to sprinkle down, idly wondering whether she finally decided to retreat all the while.
To my surprise, I did not had to wait till the water settled, for a form emerged from the falling veil. The young shipgirl stepped out, or perhaps more accurately, stumbled out. She was dripping in water, visibly shaking. Whether it was from fright, excitement, or a simple physical reaction to the freezing temperatures, I wasn't sure.
Still, she staggered another step forward, eyes wide and unblinking. Her head was tilted slightly down, as if oblivious to her surroundings. In her hand, she clutched her small twin-barreled turret so tightly that I could see the whites of her knuckles even at a distance. If I didn't know any better, I'd almost swear that she wasn't even breathing.
Then, slowly, as if unaware of her own actions, she takes her other hand and brushes it against the top of the turret. Almost caressing it, before hugging it close to her heart. I saw her lips move briefly. Whether she was silently cursing or giving a muted prayer was something I would likely never know.
For seconds, or maybe minutes, I watched her patiently, curious as to what she would do.
Finally, she blinks.
The young shipgirl looked up and it was as if life returned to her body. Her bright eyes snapped directly to mine, and I could recognize something brimming just underneath the surface of those glistening orbs. It was a distinctive look, the very same look as the soldiers in my memories.
Yet, despite my familiarity, I could not tell what it was exactly that I was seeing. Maybe it was madness. Or resolve perhaps? Determination with a dose of desperation. I couldn't be sure.
Then, her mouth opened and puffs of visible white air billowed out before her in rising rhythm, slightly obscuring her expression. The cloudy puffs indicating that she was taking deep, warm breathes.
From the cloudy puffs, a small sound emerged. So minute that I could only just make it out over the mild winter wind.
But the sound grew... and grew. From a weakly whisper to a full-blown scream.
It was coming from her. It was her battle cry.
The young Kanmasu charged. A straight surge forward, hollering as if Hell itself was on her heels. Likewise, her twin-barreled turret barked out litanies of fire and death as if to add to her chorus of battle.
At the time, I had thought that she must have surely gone mad. The fact that she decided to forgo any type of cover or tactical advantage seemed to support that idea. But as I revisited the memory, I discovered plausible reasons for her actions.
Perhaps her cries were a thoughtful attempt to unnerve me, a strategic attack on my psyche. Or perhaps it was meant to steady her own nerves, her voice bolstering her spirit. Or maybe, just maybe... she realized that it was to be her last call, and she wanted the whole world to witness her.
But there was no one else there but me, so I watched for the world. I watched her run, her yell, her fight.
In the back of my mind, I knew what she was doing. It was a clever, if desperate, move.
It was a ram. A suicide attack.
An attack that equalized opponents. One that negated my advantages, and emboldened her own. For it did not matter the thickness of armor or the size of spirit, all that was required was the necessary speed and extraordinary luck.
To charge straight forward and hope that your opponent missed all along the way, that was her goal. After all, when thousands of tons of hardened metal collided at such speeds, irreparable damage would be done to anything and anyone.
And if she decided to overload her own internal reactors and intentionally self-detonate? Well, that would just be the finishing touch.
Simply put, she was pitting her luck against my skill. It was an attack to which I had to answer.
I raised my arms towards her once again, the barrels of my turrets leveling directly at the charging shipgirl. This time I would not miss. Still, despite it all, a part of me hoped against hope that the young shipgirl would turn and leave this pointless battle behind.
It was not to be. A stamp of the feet, I found my footing. Lowering myself, my center of gravity allowed to better receive the recoil. Bearing my teeth, in apprehension of what was about to happen.
I took aim. Center of mass. Torso. There was no need for anything special. One direct hit would do.
I took one last look at the young shipgirl. Her hair streaming behind as she steamed ahead. Her clothes tattered, speaking volumes of her journey here. Still hollering, voice growing hoarse and bitter but still loud and full of pride. And lastly, her eyes wide and glistening, still dribbling with water.
Then I fired.
The first casualty of this mismatched duel was sound. As soon as I fired, the explosive concussion of my cannons utterly and completely drowned out the shipgirl's battle cry. Screaming fire had buried the human voice.
The second gone was sight. Within seconds of my salvo, the image of the charging Kanmasu in front of me erupted in a torrent of colors. There were stripes of white, of ice and light. Of black , soot and shadows. And of course, red, fire and blood. These colors streaked out from the center of the explosion in flying stripes like some sort of macabre and miscolored rainbow.
Last to leave was life. The particles of color fell down like the curtains of a stage, slow and gentle, yet constant and unrelenting. And when the curtains parted, there was naught to be found.
The young shipgirl had disappeared.
Her body was lost without a trace, likely disappearing under the icy waves. Sunk.
I strode over to the place where I last saw the young Kanmasu, and all I saw was the trace remains of ripped cloth and rended metal.
And as I stood over what had become the grave of the young shipgirl, a distinct thought, or perhaps feeling, surfaced up. A feeling of sadness or maybe pity that I, who didn't even know her name, was the last person to have ever witnessed the young Kanmasu's life.
Yeah, well... turns out I was wrong.
I wasn't the last person to have witnessed the young shipgirl's life.
Which brings us back to the beginning.
I, sitting here on my handmade throne, ruling over my desolate sea of snow, watching the swirling white pedals dance merrily under the waning sky.
And on the distant horizon?
On the horizon was not the light of the setting sun as some would expect to see. Instead, it was a shadow. A form standing tall, another one of my counterparts. Another shipgirl, like the young destroyer.
Now here I shall have to end the writing of my tale, for I have to greet my new guest, my would-be grim reaper. For this was my land. This was my home.
Snow was N-9's home.
Author's notes:
Heavily inspired by the an episode of Samurai Jack titled "Tale of X-9"
Aha, so you thought this was dead? Well, truth is that I wasn't kidding when I said I was a really slow writer. On top of that, I was kidnapped by Tree of Savior and Dark Souls III, really wonderful games.
So, my very first fight scene. How'd I do? What needs to be improved? Did it make sense? Was it satisfying?
Also, I was very close to scraping the entire scene about N-9's experiences with snow multiple times throughout the process of writing it. I just thought it didn't add too much to the story, and it was a slog to write. You can probably tell that section of the snippet wasn't up to the usual level of refinement. I guess maybe writing the feelings of happiness don't come too naturally to me.
Still, I decided to keep it because it added to the theme and imagery of the "twin fated opposites" nicely, showed more sides of emotion from N-9, and adds to the next snippets. A small (read:huge) part of me also felt bad that the scene would've become a waste. What do you guys think?
Even with all this, there was still a cut scene though. N-9 was not meant to succeed so quickly in the desire for snow in the first draft. I initially wanted to display the full range of emotion. From desire to ambition to frustration to depression to anger and then to joy. Supposedly, N-9 would've become an extremely good combatant by dodging flakes falling of snow from the sky and then shooting them with cannons in blind rage. Full on Touhou-style.
Still, I'm pretty happy with this snippet and hope everyone'll enjoy it too.
2-2
They started calling me N-9.
N, being the Northern region and nine on the account of me being the ninth "calamity" to strike the region.
Wasn't all bad though.
Discovered something called music.
Travel close to the coast. Stay low and quiet. Tune the radios to a certain setting. And then...
Wow...
Can't really describe it with words. Just something you have to experience for yourself I guess.
My personal favorite was the type they called jazz. It was old-timey music for an old-timey gal, I suppose. On cold rainy nights, I could just settle down and listen for hours on end, watching the Moon wax silver and herons glide in the specter of clouds.
Don't really know how much time passed like that, just traveling North by myself. Didn't really care, it made no difference to me.
Well... that is until I hit the edge of the world. Where water had melded into ice, and life seemed to have just disappeared. Replacing life was an endless blanket of frost, where absolutely everything was completely frozen.
Just simply still.
And as I looked over the winter wasteland, I knew that I had found peace for the very first time.
So I retired. Decided to call the place mine.
It was nice. Real nice.
Settling down. Warm sun during the day, cool music at night. Beautiful crystals below, wondrous auroras above.
It was also there that I discovered a thing called snow.
Sweet snow...
It descended from the high Heavens, from stormy grey clouds too distant from me and my arms to ever reach. The pale flakes danced in the wind, with nary a care lifting them aloft. Drifted down so softly, so gently that they made not a single ripple in the placid sea.
It was as if the sea was a reflection of reality, so calm that it mirrored all that was above it. Twin images of pale petals swaying upwards and downwards, to and fro. Physical and phantasmal met at the horizon of the sea, finding serenity and harmony with its fated twin.
It was so hypnotic, enticing, entrancing. How could I possibly help but whole-heartedly want it? How could I help but desire it?
Yet, the very first time I reached out...
It sizzled.
The same thing happened the second time I tried, and the third time.
It was as if the snow found myself to be so repulsive an existence that my very touch made it hiss and vanish.
There wasn't much I could do about it though. My internals were simply that hot. It was always igniting. Ready to burn, to fight, to war.
Still... I wasn't one to give up so quickly, stubborn crone that I was. At the time, I think I honestly wanted nothing more than to simply feel the snow's touch.
My first inclination was, of course, to try and cool down. I wasn't stupid, I knew how basic physics and thermodynamics worked.
So I tried to slow down, tuning my reactors to a minimum, thought it would be a good start. I stilled myself for days under the falling sky, hoping that the snow would soon accept me.
For the longest time, I wondered what it would be like. Would it be as soft as it looked? Perhaps it would be similar to water, a gentle pressure that shied away from all touch. Or maybe it was more like air, indiscernible and transient in all aspects except when it extreme motion. But as time passed, it was becoming more and more apparent that I might never find out.
Of course it didn't work. Seemed like nothing was ever that simple.
Nevertheless, throughout my wait, I never discounted the idea that I was going about this the completely wrong way, so this time I tried something different.
To catch the snow through the virtue of speed. Seize it by being as fast as possible; to hold it for that infinitesimal moment before it vanished. Because it didn't matter if I only held it for a fraction of a second. By that point, I just wanted something. Anything.
Well... I make it sound nice, speaking about it in terms of virtues and what not, but in truth, I must have looked like a ripe buffoon. I would swing my arms in the air like a raving lunatic, hands grasping out trying to catch the falling flakes.
Looking back, I couldn't believe I was that stupid. All that effort spent only to find that when I unclenched my fists, they would... could hold nothing. It didn't matter how hard I pushed myself, how exhausted I became. The snow would not accept me.
But... but I was not deterred. I wanted to try again. I think I would have not ever forgiven myself if I surrendered there.
So I tried meditating. Turning my mind inwards to find an internal peace to reflect my surroundings. Thinking that maybe that'll lead to the snow's acceptance. Got the idea from a radio show about personal health or some such, how the state of one's mind could correlate to the state of one's body.
It was actually surprisingly difficult, to not think at all. To lose focus of the surroundings, to let caution go and welcome a vulnerability was simply not something a weapon of war would do.
It felt alien.
Still, I sat there in that hazy limbo between the dreaming and waking world. It could have been days, maybe even weeks. I didn't know, not like anyone was keeping count. In that dreamlike world, I didn't know anything. I might've even forgotten why I was doing what I was doing.
At the height of my mediation, a gradual awareness crept up on me.
All the noise was gone, everything was quiet.
At first, I wasn't sure what it meant. My mind was still sluggish, as if I had awoken from a deep slumber, but I knew it was somehow important. Then, as my mind slowly marched forward, I realized...
The hissing was gone!
Finally, success! Finally, finally, finally! After so long without results, I could hardly believe it! My whole body jumped with energy! It was wonderful! It was amazing! It may have been the first time I've ever came close to happiness.
I opened my eyes and scooped up a fistful of snow and just held it. It was like everything I imagined, but also not. It was cold, of course. Very cold. But it was also a lot heavier than when it was only an image in my mind. This was real. Really, really real.
Before I knew it, a simple of sense of glee bubbled up inside me. With almost childlike excitement, I held the snow in one hand then tossed it to the other, and then back again. And as I palmed the handful of snow back and forth, it began to slowly take the shape of a sphere.
I don't quite know why I did it. It was just what felt natural.
Yet, as I looked over the small ball of snow, I thought it was just a little bit misshapen. One side bulging out; blemishes on the surface. It didn't match the idea of snow in my mind, where it was a perfectly smooth sheet, pristine and unbroken.
So I scooped up more snow and patched the surface, adding to places where it was needed.
And I added and added and added some more.
By the time I thought it was a perfect enough sphere worthy of the name snow, the ball had just begun to dwarf me in size.
With that, I took a few steps back and a feeling of genuine accomplishment welled up within my chest. And I realized, it was then and there that I learned the joy of creation.
So I made more things with snow.
Mounds that would become walls. Chairs that became thrones. Decoration that became landmarks.
I made the land my own. I made the land my home.
Nothing lasts though. Never does.
It all changed on a bright, clear day. The day I met my counterpart.
A young shipgirl. Destroyer probably, light cruiser at the most.
Didn't know how she found her way here. Judging by her torn up clothes, she probably got lost in a storm or something, who knows. No one comes here willingly anyways. Myself notwithstanding.
She seemed shocked and confused as she stumbled haphazardly through the ice and snow. Turned completely hysterical when she spotted me.
I told her to go home, that there was nothing here for her.
She wouldn't have any of it though. Said I was evil, that I couldn't be trusted. That I was somehow the cause for her being there and that I was at fault.
I didn't really get it.
What I did understand was the fact that she started firing her cannons in my direction.
Panic must have still been gripping her heart though because her shots fell far wide of me, creating shallow pockmarks in the snow and water. Still, I wasn't worried. It wasn't like the tiny shells would've done much to me anyways.
Yet, despite the ultimate futility of her actions, I had to commend the young shipgirl. Because for what she lacked in accuracy, she made up for in sheer volume of fire. Every half-second, the resounding pop of small caliber guns rang clearly across the winterscape, sending shells whistling through the air. A veritable wall of death... only to crash down to the white earth harmlessly.
As amusing as it all was, I urged her to go home once again, or that there would be consequences for her actions. But perhaps she failed to hear me over the ruckus of her own gun fire, because she continued her attack.
I did not understand why she did not heed my words to take the better part of valor. After all, I knew that she must've known that a battle between her and myself was grossly one-sided. Yet she continued to war, as if she was being compelled by something.
It would be later, when I revisited this memory of the young shipgirl continuing to rebel that a peculiar thought would come to me. A thought that I wished I had more time to pursue, but wasn't likely to get.
Her stubbornness reminded me a lot of my lesser siblings, if I was to be completely honest. The way they fought against overwhelming odds with seemingly neither hesitation nor consideration.
It was stupid, of course.
But their actions made me think, that there were perhaps greater similarities between us Abyssals and our Kanmasu counterparts than I ever imagined.
At the moment though, I thought that if words were not persuasive to her, then maybe action was. So I leveled my arms towards as I weaved lazily through the shipgirl's poorly aimed barrage.
I fired. Just one salvo. It was deafening.
Ice and water erupted around me in a whirling twister of shrapnel and spray, the result of the concussive force of my cannons. The pitch black bullets blurred and near disappeared with supersonic speed. To any potential onlookers, it would have been easier to follow the pale spiraling contrails left in the wake of the barrage than to track the actual projectile itself.
It was a warning shot, really. A series of towering pillars of slush and sleet straddling the shipgirl's flanks proof of my intentions. The shells had landed precisely where I wanted them to, the effort of vast experience, skillful operation, and a helping of luck.
The resulting columns of spray were so large that they completely hid the shipgirl from view. So I waited for the plumes of water to sprinkle down, idly wondering whether she finally decided to retreat all the while.
To my surprise, I did not had to wait till the water settled, for a form emerged from the falling veil. The young shipgirl stepped out, or perhaps more accurately, stumbled out. She was dripping in water, visibly shaking. Whether it was from fright, excitement, or a simple physical reaction to the freezing temperatures, I wasn't sure.
Still, she staggered another step forward, eyes wide and unblinking. Her head was tilted slightly down, as if oblivious to her surroundings. In her hand, she clutched her small twin-barreled turret so tightly that I could see the whites of her knuckles even at a distance. If I didn't know any better, I'd almost swear that she wasn't even breathing.
Then, slowly, as if unaware of her own actions, she takes her other hand and brushes it against the top of the turret. Almost caressing it, before hugging it close to her heart. I saw her lips move briefly. Whether she was silently cursing or giving a muted prayer was something I would likely never know.
For seconds, or maybe minutes, I watched her patiently, curious as to what she would do.
Finally, she blinks.
The young shipgirl looked up and it was as if life returned to her body. Her bright eyes snapped directly to mine, and I could recognize something brimming just underneath the surface of those glistening orbs. It was a distinctive look, the very same look as the soldiers in my memories.
Yet, despite my familiarity, I could not tell what it was exactly that I was seeing. Maybe it was madness. Or resolve perhaps? Determination with a dose of desperation. I couldn't be sure.
Then, her mouth opened and puffs of visible white air billowed out before her in rising rhythm, slightly obscuring her expression. The cloudy puffs indicating that she was taking deep, warm breathes.
From the cloudy puffs, a small sound emerged. So minute that I could only just make it out over the mild winter wind.
But the sound grew... and grew. From a weakly whisper to a full-blown scream.
It was coming from her. It was her battle cry.
The young Kanmasu charged. A straight surge forward, hollering as if Hell itself was on her heels. Likewise, her twin-barreled turret barked out litanies of fire and death as if to add to her chorus of battle.
At the time, I had thought that she must have surely gone mad. The fact that she decided to forgo any type of cover or tactical advantage seemed to support that idea. But as I revisited the memory, I discovered plausible reasons for her actions.
Perhaps her cries were a thoughtful attempt to unnerve me, a strategic attack on my psyche. Or perhaps it was meant to steady her own nerves, her voice bolstering her spirit. Or maybe, just maybe... she realized that it was to be her last call, and she wanted the whole world to witness her.
But there was no one else there but me, so I watched for the world. I watched her run, her yell, her fight.
In the back of my mind, I knew what she was doing. It was a clever, if desperate, move.
It was a ram. A suicide attack.
An attack that equalized opponents. One that negated my advantages, and emboldened her own. For it did not matter the thickness of armor or the size of spirit, all that was required was the necessary speed and extraordinary luck.
To charge straight forward and hope that your opponent missed all along the way, that was her goal. After all, when thousands of tons of hardened metal collided at such speeds, irreparable damage would be done to anything and anyone.
And if she decided to overload her own internal reactors and intentionally self-detonate? Well, that would just be the finishing touch.
Simply put, she was pitting her luck against my skill. It was an attack to which I had to answer.
I raised my arms towards her once again, the barrels of my turrets leveling directly at the charging shipgirl. This time I would not miss. Still, despite it all, a part of me hoped against hope that the young shipgirl would turn and leave this pointless battle behind.
It was not to be. A stamp of the feet, I found my footing. Lowering myself, my center of gravity allowed to better receive the recoil. Bearing my teeth, in apprehension of what was about to happen.
I took aim. Center of mass. Torso. There was no need for anything special. One direct hit would do.
I took one last look at the young shipgirl. Her hair streaming behind as she steamed ahead. Her clothes tattered, speaking volumes of her journey here. Still hollering, voice growing hoarse and bitter but still loud and full of pride. And lastly, her eyes wide and glistening, still dribbling with water.
Then I fired.
The first casualty of this mismatched duel was sound. As soon as I fired, the explosive concussion of my cannons utterly and completely drowned out the shipgirl's battle cry. Screaming fire had buried the human voice.
The second gone was sight. Within seconds of my salvo, the image of the charging Kanmasu in front of me erupted in a torrent of colors. There were stripes of white, of ice and light. Of black , soot and shadows. And of course, red, fire and blood. These colors streaked out from the center of the explosion in flying stripes like some sort of macabre and miscolored rainbow.
Last to leave was life. The particles of color fell down like the curtains of a stage, slow and gentle, yet constant and unrelenting. And when the curtains parted, there was naught to be found.
The young shipgirl had disappeared.
Her body was lost without a trace, likely disappearing under the icy waves. Sunk.
I strode over to the place where I last saw the young Kanmasu, and all I saw was the trace remains of ripped cloth and rended metal.
And as I stood over what had become the grave of the young shipgirl, a distinct thought, or perhaps feeling, surfaced up. A feeling of sadness or maybe pity that I, who didn't even know her name, was the last person to have ever witnessed the young Kanmasu's life.
Yeah, well... turns out I was wrong.
I wasn't the last person to have witnessed the young shipgirl's life.
Which brings us back to the beginning.
I, sitting here on my handmade throne, ruling over my desolate sea of snow, watching the swirling white pedals dance merrily under the waning sky.
And on the distant horizon?
On the horizon was not the light of the setting sun as some would expect to see. Instead, it was a shadow. A form standing tall, another one of my counterparts. Another shipgirl, like the young destroyer.
Now here I shall have to end the writing of my tale, for I have to greet my new guest, my would-be grim reaper. For this was my land. This was my home.
Snow was N-9's home.
Author's notes:
Heavily inspired by the an episode of Samurai Jack titled "Tale of X-9"
Aha, so you thought this was dead? Well, truth is that I wasn't kidding when I said I was a really slow writer. On top of that, I was kidnapped by Tree of Savior and Dark Souls III, really wonderful games.
So, my very first fight scene. How'd I do? What needs to be improved? Did it make sense? Was it satisfying?
Also, I was very close to scraping the entire scene about N-9's experiences with snow multiple times throughout the process of writing it. I just thought it didn't add too much to the story, and it was a slog to write. You can probably tell that section of the snippet wasn't up to the usual level of refinement. I guess maybe writing the feelings of happiness don't come too naturally to me.
Still, I decided to keep it because it added to the theme and imagery of the "twin fated opposites" nicely, showed more sides of emotion from N-9, and adds to the next snippets. A small (read:huge) part of me also felt bad that the scene would've become a waste. What do you guys think?
Even with all this, there was still a cut scene though. N-9 was not meant to succeed so quickly in the desire for snow in the first draft. I initially wanted to display the full range of emotion. From desire to ambition to frustration to depression to anger and then to joy. Supposedly, N-9 would've become an extremely good combatant by dodging flakes falling of snow from the sky and then shooting them with cannons in blind rage. Full on Touhou-style.
Still, I'm pretty happy with this snippet and hope everyone'll enjoy it too.
Last edited:
AnonymousRabbit
Rabbit Faced
Excellent piece. There's not much to say other than it was an entertaining read. Every action was nicely captured. Hoping for more.