>>2602448

>Answer it

>>2602448
>Answer it

>>2602448
>Answer it

>>2602448
>>Answer it

File: Closest I Could Find 2.png (784 KB, 749x1280)

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You open the door.

There was no one—

‘Oh, Samidare?’

Your other blue-haired Destroyer looked like she had seen better days … and she probably had. Since she was part of the patrol for the last night, you couldn’t exactly say much on the matter. Her clothes were a little singed and torn … but other than that, she looked like she was still in one piece. There wasn’t any strong scent of smoke or half-melted shrapnel. If you were going by the timetable … it was probably more than likely she had seen minimal damage, which was why she’d probably made a beeline for the barracks to get some extra rest after her dip in a vat of Tears.

It didn’t explain why she was at your door, though. She had a decent room of her own—had she lost her key or something?

‘Samidare, you ok—’

She doesn’t give you time to finish your query, shuffling past you (and bumping against your side) with her head barely hanging from her her shoulders … and her shoulders barely hanging from the rest of her upper torso. Samidare wobbles left and right, as if caught in a drunken stupor. An invisible chain seems to pull right at her, right to your mattress …

Where she jumps right in, wrapping herself up your formerly-exclusive comforts, letting out a contented noise as she faces your back away from you. You groan, making a move to—

You feel a tug on your bottoms.

It was Shigure, looking a lot tidier than her sister—and in her dark woollen pyjamas, which were oddly thick for someone who could adjust their own body temperature. Her expression, however, practically mirrored Samidare’s own. She keeps her silence, however, staring up at you with half-lidded eyes … and a large pillow tucked under her arm.

‘Shigure?’

>Write-In

>>2602534
>Sleep well you two. (Tuck them in)

>>2602534
>tuck them in and stay with them till they fall asleep

>>2602534

>Sleep well you two. (Tuck them in)

>>2602534
>Sleep well you two. (Tuck them in)

Pick her up and tuck her in.

File: The Wife [No. 1 of ...].png (220 KB, 700x525)

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You don’t bother to stop her. Privacy, in the confines of these barracks … was a luxury; more than a personal oven, a television set or—should the Admiralty ever consider it—a home computer. Stepping aside, Shigure takes the invitation with a step and a bob of the head, stumbling her way to your mattress and falling over Samidare’s cocooned form. You watch with a sense of amusement as the two sisters struggle for mattress space, Shigure using Samidare as her own hug pillow (the one in her hand off to the edge of the mattress, practically forgotten) as the blue-haired girl twists and whines herself into a better position. You’re not even sure if she was aware that her older sister was asserting the usual row of sibling dominance as much as the fact that she was an inconvenience to her quest of comfort.

Finally having had your fill of said amusement, you waltz over the two wrestling forms and—with some difficulty—manage to separate the both of them from their dogpile. Shigure doesn’t even seem aware of you, really. It’s some effort on your part to unroll Samidare from her burrito wrap of your comforts, but you manage to do so anyway. Shifting them into parallel positions, you park them right next to each other.

And no sooner that you had lined them up, Samidare—as if by automation and habit—immediately embraces the lower torso of her sister, who returns the gesture with two wrapped arms around her sister’s shoulders as the both of them let out another set of content sighs. Feeling a warm smile play upon the corners of your mouth, you drape your newly-issued blanket over both their sleeping forms, mewls giving way to snores.

‘Sleep well, you two.’

You move to get up … only to find yourself almost knocked off balance by a sudden, forceful motion … and a pair of strong arms wrapping themselves around you, as well as a familiar press of breasts against your back, forcing you to steady your stance. As surprised as you are at almost getting knocked off your feet … you’re much more amused at the affectionate and playful gesture, and thereby welcome the playful hum as the cheek of your assaulter rubs against the stubble of your half-beard.

‘Hey, Nagato,’ you greet, reaching up with your prosthetic and placing your hand lovingly over hers as she shifts her arms up from your upper torso to right over your shoulders.

‘Good morning, my Vice-Admiral,’ she greets you, huskily and playfully, craning her head and giving your cheek a gentle—

You frown.

There was a smell.

Not so much a stench, but it was strong enough that it caught your attention.

‘Just got out of the vat?’

‘Mm-hm …’

>‘You should go have a shower. You still smell like the recovery unit.’
>‘How was patrol?’
>‘While you’re here … I got something to show you.’ (Daughter’s Shroud)
>'You seen Kasumi?'
>‘I need to go freshen up, too.’ (Brush her off)
>Write-In

>>2602640
>‘While you’re here … I got something to show you.’ (Daughter’s Shroud)

>>2602640
>>‘While you’re here … I got something to show you.’ (Daughter’s Shroud)

>>2602640
>>‘While you’re here … I got something to show you.’ (Daughter’s Shroud)

File: Come ON, Commander.jpg (108 KB, 700x852)

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‘I got something to show you … if you’re not planning to crash any time soon.’

‘Oh?’

Nagato releases her hold on you as you get to your feet, walking over to your closet. You proceed to begin digging through your mix of clothes and amenities (and placing a mental reminder that you really needed to get your things sorted out better) before pulling out a familiar shopping bag … and pulling out the neatly-folded jacket: the Daughter’s Shroud. It’d been a while—several weeks, in fact—since you’d even bothered with the item in question, but you’d been dying to get a reaction out of your Sub-Commander ever since you’d purchased it (You’d technically acquired it as a freebie, but details) from your trip inland way back when … but with everything that had happened, it’d remained tucked away in your own personal inventory.

Ironing out the wrinkles with the palm of your prosthetic—and adjusting your uncomfortable eyepatch—you turn around, wearing a bright smile.

‘Ta-da!’

Your exclamation, however … is met by the unexpected look of ashen surprise. Nagato is speechless, apprehensive, but the shock on her face, though … it didn’t look like the happy sort of shock that you’d expected. You take a few steps forward, intent on salvaging the situation however you could … despite not knowing what you’d done wrong at all.

‘Tenryuu … she told me it was a Daughter’s Shroud, right?’ you go on, taking a cheerful tone as as the item hangs from your fingers. Nagato’s expression turns from shock to hesitation … and she reaches for the item, before pulling right back as if its mere touch burned her. ‘She … she told me it was a monkey’s paw for you girls. I think she meant rabbit’s foot, though. It must’ve belonged to a fan of yours, right? You girls put the KanMusu on the back as some sort of lucky charm …’

As you trail off, observing Nagato’s fearful expression … you see her fingers lift again, this time fully taking the item from your fingers. You stare worriedly at Nagato, watching her pensive, shocked expression turn as she turns the jacket around, gazing intently at the figure of her persona, her image, emblazoned on the back of the leather article. You shift uncomfortably in place; the cool air had given way to a harsher, more distressing climate … and Nagato’s eyes seem to go dull as the confidence and certainty of her eyes becomes swept away in what you can only fathom to be a mix of confusion, distress … and desperation.

‘S-Sir,’ she starts, her voice hesitating, trembling. ‘Where … where did you get this?’

Your first instinct is to lie.

Seeing Nagato like this was uncomfortable, bordering on frightening.

>‘I, uh … found it?’ (Lie)
>‘It was in a bargain bin in some thrift store or something.’ (Tell the truth)
>‘Does it matter?’
>Write-In

>>2602743
>‘It was in a bargain bin in some thrift store or something.’ (Tell the truth)

>>2602743
>>‘It was in a bargain bin in some thrift store or something.’ (Tell the truth)
>did you give it to someone as a gift or something like that Nagato?

>>2602743
>‘It was in a bargain bin in some thrift store or something.’ (Tell the truth)

We are also a horrible liar.

File: In Sunset's Glow.jpg (441 KB, 800x1131)

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‘It was in a bargain bin in some thrift store or … something,’ you explain, trying to recall the details of your little trip. You’re not sure if she was so interested in where you’d found it so much as the how of your chance upon the item. ‘The guy offered it to me because they wanted to clear as much stock as they could manage. I got it because I bought practically a closetful of things … it was at the bottom of a bargain bin.’

‘Bottom … of a bargain bin,’ she repeats, her voice eerily mimicking Ooyodo’s robotic tone. ‘That’s … that’s it?’

Nagato looks up to you, her expression morphing into one of urgency … as if it was a matter of life and death. You’re so taken aback by the show of emotion, that you almost slip onto the cold wooden floor with a misstep, holding up your hands to keep her from bumping into you. You’d never seen her like this …. and you’d especially not expected this show of emotion to come from an article of clothing that doubled as a good luck charm that you’d practically had to dig up from a thrift store.

‘Th-that’s it,’ you reply, continuing insistently, ‘that’s it.’

‘And it took you this long to tell me?’

That was a snarl.

You’d never seen her snarl before.

‘Nagato …’

‘Well?’ she presses on, her tone more and more insistent … and dangerous.

You lick the top of your lip, trying to find an answer to her question. You could to say that you hadn’t thought it important; that it was your article of clothing by right and purchase … and that it was yours, regardless of what she felt about it, but considering how her was practically teetering onto a bursting motion, you were unsure if that was the path to take in this situation. Nagato was more than upset—she was angry, distressed, frustrated … heartbroken.

There was something … vulnerable and damaged under that front of anger, that pressure that forgot all of her stature and your rank, something that had to do with the Shroud in her hands, her fingernails growing whiter by the second as she rubbed her thumbs and fingers into the material. You’re unsure of what could have set her off so badly … but you’re sure that if you so much as misstepped here, she probably wouldn’t forgive you. Nagato wasn’t … lost, or that’s what you didn’t believe her to be, but there seemed to be something that she was searching for.

An answer.

That’s what she wanted.

An answer that she already knew in her heart.

One that … she couldn’t accept.

That was why.

Now you understand.

‘Commander!’

>Write-In

>>2602951
>Find her hands in the dark and hold onto them tightly.
"Nagato, I'm sorry, I didn't tell you earlier but as I said and showed yesterday. I'm not going anywhere and I'm not leaving you alone. Who's shroud was this?"

>>2602951
>Find her hands in the dark and hold onto them tightly. "Nagato, as I said and showed yesterday. I'm not going anywhere and I'm not leaving you alone."

>>2603070
supportin

>>2602951
>>2603070
This is fine

>>2603070
same

>>2603070
suportan'

>>2603070
>This

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‘Hey.’

Your tone is harsh, attention-grabbing by intent. Perhaps it wasn’t the best way to take that step forward, but you felt like more than pacification, the clarification of your stance was something that you had to do. Nagato was distressed; unreasonably or reasonably, you hadn’t quite decided yet, but you know that she wasn’t herself. A jacket of an aesthetic value alone wouldn’t have her spiralling down the this bleak void. It had to be something else … something that was associated with the jacket. You doubt that she’d throw a tantrum over any other piece of leather, but this …

This one had meaning.

And something—or someone—that didn’t attach itself to that meaning as much as she hoped.

‘Nagato,’ you start, grasping her hands underneath the fabric. She tries to pull away, but you’re thankful that you have enough strength in your fingers to dig into her palm and prevent her from snatching her palms away. ‘I’m here. I’m not going anywhere; I won’t leave you alone. You’re angry, you want to knock my front teeth out of my jaw because of something I found at the bottom of a bargain bin … and I’ll take it, but if you’re gonna do that …’

You close the distance a little more, wearing a gentle smile.

A little bit of emotional good cop-bad cop wasn’t such a stretch in application.

‘At least tell me why you’re gonna do it?’ you finish, peering into her red orbs.

Nagato grumbles, looking away, a faint hint of pink on her cheeks … and sighing.

‘This is—this was … Mutsu’s.’

>‘Who’s Mutsu? A friend of yours?’ (Inquire into the identity)
>‘That’s really worth getting upset over?’ (Direct)
>‘And she’s enough to forget that I’m your direct superior?’ (Angry)
>‘Well, if it’s that important to you, you can have it.’ (Hand it off to her, clean your hands of the matter)
>Write-In

>>2604040
>‘Who’s Mutsu? A friend of yours?’ (Inquire into the identity)

>>2604040
>>‘Who’s Mutsu? A friend of yours?’ (Inquire into the identity)

>>2604040

>‘Well, if it’s that important to you, you can have it.’ (Hand it off to her, clean your hands of the matter)

>>2604040
>'Who's Mutsu? She must have looked up to you at one time if the Jacket means what Tenryuu told me it did.'

>>2604040
>>Write-In
>Mutsu? i remember Akashi saying something about her when i was in the hospital after the rescue op. something about you arguing with the Admiral about her or something? was she a friend of yours?

>>2604080
This

‘Who’s Mutsu?

Nagato stares at you, unimpressed. You’re not sure why—you hadn’t even heard the name before … or have it mentioned to you in the context of a discussion. Or, even failing that, anything that pertained to Nagato’s background prior to her appointment as your direct subordinate. The most you’d gotten out of her was her old associations with Musashi and Yamato … and that was because you’d asked about them. You already knew that the Admiral was like a father to her, but family? You hadn’t really delved into that that much.

You’re not sure why.

‘Mutsu,’ she starts, finally relenting, ‘Mutsu is my sister … and I think that I’ve mentioned her to you at least once.’

>‘Is she as pretty as you?’ (Joke)
>‘Didn’t know you had a sister.’ (Incredulous)
>‘A passing mention isn’t going to register.’ (Cold)
>‘Oh, all right, that explains it.’ (Distant)
>Write-In

>>2604307
>well from what i can remember you've only mentioned her in passing once or twice before. you've never really gone into detail. ive heard her be mentioned by some of the others on occasion. but ive never gotten more info about past her name really

>>2604343
>but ive never gotten more info about her past her name really
*fixed

>>2604343
supporting

>>2604343
supporting

>>2604307
>I've heard the name once or twice, but only in passing

File: Oneesan I love you!.jpg (67 KB, 600x800)

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‘You’ve only mentioned her once or twice … I think I might’ve heard her name out a few times out of context,’ you start, ‘but you never mentioned who she was—is. I didn’t … even know what that name meant, really. Outside of the fact that you and … maybe Musashi, maybe Yamato or even Tenryuu … maybe said a name or two in passing conversation, I can’t really say I was paying attention to names. Didn’t seem relevant.’

‘Didn’t seem relevant?’

‘Nagato, if I knew Mutsu was your sister and her situation was at all applicable to my task at hand, I wouldn’t actually be … forgetful about it. At least not to … this … extent. At least.’

She sighs, pushing her anger out with one breath. You’re a little less hesitant now … but you were still hesitant. Maybe Nagato had indeed dropped her name more than once. Maybe you just didn’t care enough back then to notice, but … right now, you were just trying to make sure you had all the details detailed. If you’d passed on it before—passed on any vital information prior—then this was the best chance for you to to pick up what had skimmed over the top of your head from any previous mentions.

In short, you had to make up for lost opportunities, lost time.

‘This is Mutsu’s jacket,’ Nagato repeats, her tone sounding more like someone who was trying to reassure herself of a fact than she was elaborating on a point; her expression is slightly shaken, but otherwise, she seemed to be back in control … for the most part, anyway. ‘I—she had it made on a whim. I told her it was embarrassing … what would people start thinking, seeing my little sister prancing around like the head of my fan-club.’

‘You didn’t like it?’

‘I wasn’t ecstatic about it,’ she responds, wearing a wry smile. ‘You’re a human, aren’t you? Imagine how embarrassing it’d be seeing your mother and father prancing about with a cheer routine for coming back home alive.’

You think about it.

And you concur.

‘I see what you mean.’

‘But … if it was going to keep her happy, it wasn’t something that I bothered with that much,’ Nagato continues, now holding the Daughter’s Shroud on her forearms. ‘It’s not like we had a great relationship by human—’

‘Wait, she looks up to you,’ you interject, frowning. ‘Sounds pretty great to me.’

Nagato pauses.

‘I … I wanted us to focus on what we were here for,’ Nagato answers. ‘These sort of things, they’re nice, but … in the scheme of things, they’re just gestures. I wanted to tell her to stop looking at me for everything that she needed and go through with it and she … one thing led to another and I …’

Your Sub-Commander stares at the article in her arms.

‘I told her that I didn’t care whether we lived or died … and that she shouldn’t either. I told her it was a waste of time.’

>Write-In

>>2604652
>Write-In
Draw her in to us and give her a goid hug. Apply comforting headpats.

“Have you tried contacting her since?”

>>2604711
supportin
>siblings often say things to each other that they regret

>>2604711
This

>>2604711
supporting

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‘Have you tried contacting her since?’

She doesn’t answer.

‘Nagato?’

‘I’ve tried, but … no one’s giving me any answers,’ Nagato laments, biting her bottom lip. ‘She … I don’t see her on any manifest, recovery or otherwise; she could be in bureaucratic limbo or …’

>‘Dead?’ (Direct)
>‘I’m sure she’s fine.’ (Reassure)
>‘You know, this is just a human perspective, but …’ (Offer perspective)
>‘She just doesn’t want to talk to you?’ (Blunt)
>Write-In

Sorry folks! As you know, I'm a filthy SEANigger Mudslime; had to go out and pick up tonight's dinner. My bad.

>>2604869
>>‘I’m sure she’s fine.’ (Reassure)

>>2604869
>‘I’m sure she’s fine.’ (Reassure)

>>2604869

>‘I’m sure she’s fine.’ (Reassure)

>>2604869
If shes alive we can find her together.

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‘I’m sure she’s fine.’

That doesn’t reassure her. Not one bit.

‘So why doesn’t she call me?’

>‘Maybe … because she’s kind of still … sensitive from what you said?’ (Try to defuse the situation)
>‘Gee, I wonder why?’ (Sarcastic)
>‘Nagato … you can ask all these questions, but you’re not going to get answers from me.’ (Honest)
>‘I don’t know. Why ask me?’ (Annoyed)
>Write-In

>>2604933
>>‘Nagato … you can ask all these questions, but you’re not going to get answers from me.’ (Honest)

>>2604933
>>‘Nagato … you can ask all these questions, but you’re not going to get answers from me.’ (Honest)

>>2604933
>‘Nagato … you can ask all these questions, but you’re not going to get answers from me.’ (Honest)

File: P-Please.jpg (241 KB, 569x853)

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‘Nagato … you can ask all these questions, but you’re not going to get answers from me,’ you answer, pushing her away. ‘It’s a little … brazen, I know, but maybe if what Mutsu did hurt you—if she hurt you, of course, I’m not saying she did, uh … all right, remind. Look: you’re not going to get any answers fidgeting in my room with that jacket. If there’s something that needs to be done—if it really needed to be done—the Nagato I know would’ve taken it by the horns and done it. This isn’t you.’

‘B-But …’

Nagato looks up at you, practically blubbering. It was almost surreal, really. Two months of stoic professionalism … and the mere sight of a jacket had throttled down a path bordering on tears. It was rare to see her emotional at all—never mind to this degree. In fact, the only time you could remember her actually bursting in anything that wasn’t anger, lust or annoyance was back at the hospital during her reunion with Musashi and Yamato.

That, however, you could give a pass.

‘If there’s something wrong—if there’s a wrong to make right—then it comes to the ones left in the position to do, to do,’ you emphasize, wearing a smile. It was a little hammy, but at this point, you really didn’t care; it was practically carved into your bodice.

‘But what if she doesn’t … doesn’t want to talk to me?’

You grimace. That was … a possibility.

But Nagato was a tough broad … right?

And then it happens.

Wide, red eyes, much too innocent to be placed on a living weapon of death and valour, look at you with a pleading light. You find yourself paralysed in wonderment and surprise, the pout on her chin being more apparent with the emphasis on those gentle pink lips. You open your mouth to protest—this wasn’t fair! You were already the Division’s work-horse! Houshou had violated you from cradle to the grave; Takao had worked you to the bone in paying her own tribute to her sister; Murakumo had exhausted every toe on each feet and every muscle that moved your tongue in her request and that wasn’t even getting to Iowa and her tendency to just eat everything that should have rightfully been in your stomach!

KanMusu didn’t even need to eat, did they? Why did you have to feed her? It was your sandwich!

Yours!

‘Na—’

‘Commander, could you …’

Protest dies as she continues to stare up at you with hope … and a familiar cackle from the back of your head rumbles to the front, mocking your lack of willpower and authority. Nagato’s hands are on your chest, your throat drying with every second the words lingered …

And you make a decision.

>‘If you can say those words to her, you can take them back on the chin.’ (DECLINE TASK)
>‘I’ll … help.’ (ACCEPT TASK)

>>2605000
>>‘I’ll … help.’ (ACCEPT TASK)

>>2605000
>>‘I’ll … help.’ (ACCEPT TASK)

>>2605000
>‘I’ll … help.’ (ACCEPT TASK)

Doormat lel

>>2605000
>‘I’ll … help.’ (ACCEPT TASK)

>>2605000
>‘I’ll … help.’ (ACCEPT TASK)

>>2605000
>>‘I’ll … help.’ (ACCEPT TASK)
poi~

If there was ever an indicator that you were absolutely, positively the last choice by both the Admiral and the Admiralty to take on the task, the last few seconds of your thought process would be more than apparent in taking up that role. Shifting foot to foot and unable to bear the weight of the bright, imploring gaze into your one good eye, the pillars of your willpower and discipline (whatever that was) begin to creak … and one by one, crack and shatter, falling into the abyss of your thoughts without so much as a cry. Their purpose unheeded … and unwanted.

There were philosophers and thinking men who delegated themselves at tables, stacks and stacks of papers and pads and folders pertaining to human nature and the complexity of the male stature, his perspective and his place in the world. Shoulder to shoulder, chalkboard by chalkboard, they would shuffle and harrumph their points, their perspectives, a forum of discussion and argument as to why the hierarchy was such … and why the paradox turned and burned at the male species in such a way that the only way to win was to admit defeat; that there was a logic, an underlying twist to the facts and that in the sinkhole of ideas and foaming mouths, it would one day make sense.

You could save all the posturing with one hypothesis, however, and one alone: that a man was unable to resist a good woman.

‘All right,’ you concede, sighing and wearing a defeated smile, trying to at least convey your displeasure at being cornered in such a predictable manner. ‘I’ll help.’

‘Thank you.’

You grumble.

But you weren’t fooling anyone.

Not even yourself.

>‘So what was it that the both of you were arguing about? It couldn’t have been as shallow as … that?’
>‘Any way I could try and get in touch with her? If she’s even … around?’
>‘When was the last time you saw her?’
>‘What do you even want me to do when I find her?’
>‘That’s nice … let me have my peace and quiet. Chances are you’re not going to be the only one coming in today.’
>Write-In

>>2605296
>‘When was the last time you saw her?’

>>2605296
>‘When was the last time you saw her?’

>>2605296
>>‘When was the last time you saw her?’
and maybe ask what she wants us to do when we find her

‘When was the last time you saw her?’

Nagato bites her lip, looking thoughtful.

‘Nagato …’ your voice trails off, trying to get as much of your disapproval across as possible. There was negligence … and then there was this; you didn’t want to judge your Sub-Commander too harshly, but the fact that she’d just enlisted you in assisting her with the task of reconnecting with her sister (which she couldn’t or didn’t want to do) left you a little more peeved than usual. For someone as responsible as her, you’d expected better.

‘About … eleven months ago,’ she confesses, biting her lip and looking positively ashamed at the admission. Not even in the usual light-hearted manner; she actually looked mortified having to recite it out loud. ‘I didn’t really bother to check on her since. She asked for a transfer out, was given her assignment and the last thing I said to her was that I was … happy for her.’

You make a face.

‘Wh-What?’

‘Maybe Houshou should take the reins,’ you quip, shaking your head, embarrassed for the both of you. You didn’t like chastising Nagato, but the fact that she’d thought that that sort of declaration was an adequate follow-up … it was hard to reconcile that attitude with her current demeanour. ‘I don’t know how you KanMusu do it, but those sort of things build up, you know? You tell her you want her on task and then you tell her that you’re happy that she’s doing what you tell her to do instead of what she wants …’

Nagato looks down, ashamed … and very small.

>‘Look, I … I forget that you’re learning too. I’ve been here for more than twenty years myself; you’re doing better.’
>‘Well, what do you have to say to that? What did you expect Mutsu to do? Not stew on it?’
>Write-In

>>2605314
>‘Look, I … I forget that you’re learning too. I’ve been here for more than twenty years myself; you’re doing better.’

>>2605314
>>‘Look, I … I forget that you’re learning too. I’ve been here for more than twenty years myself; you’re doing better.’

>>2605314
>>‘Look, I … I forget that you’re learning too. I’ve been here for more than twenty years myself; you’re doing better.’

>>2605314
>‘Well, what do you have to say to that? What did you expect Mutsu to do? Not stew on it?

File: I Am Unsure.jpg (96 KB, 600x818)

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You let out a great big sigh. Maybe that was a little … too off the reserve as a joke, whatever your intentions behind it were. You could have hit yourself for forgetting just how the KanMusu operated in regards to their emotions, their feelings … the paradox of the complexity and dulling of their capacities trying to focus that gathered empathy, emotion. It’s a startling—and sombre—reminder of what they were, even in these small moments … or was it because of these small moments, that their identities really came to the fore?

That being said …

‘Look …’

They went about it better than you ever did.

‘I’ve,’ you pause, considering your next words, not willing to chastise her for something that she was already painfully aware of, ‘I’m sorry, I … I forget that you’re learning to. It’s not easy trying to learn that there’s more to you being here than taking a shell to the face for the rest of humanity. If it’s … worth anything, I reckon that you’re doing a better job at being human than I ever managed myself … or pretty much every other human, for that matter. I think that … if Mutsu is anything like her big sister, she’ll definitely know the difference between the you from then … and the you now.’

She looks up again, a little wide-eyed.

‘You … think so.’

It was amazing, really.

One word, one right sentence … and even the most staunch and uppity of KanMusu would turn into Samidare.

‘I think so,’ you confirm, nodding. ‘You got a better handle of it than I do … I’d be a hypocrite if I started taking off marks for that.’

For some reason, and maybe it was just your ego, you can almost feel the Admiral’s pat on your shoulder, accompanied by an approving grunt. Nagato’s warm half-smile only makes the sensation that much more.

>‘So what was it that the both of you were arguing about? It couldn’t have been as shallow as … that, right?’
>‘Any way I could try and get in touch with her? If she’s even … around?’
>‘What do you even want me to do when I find her?’
>‘For now, could you let me have my peace and quiet? Chances are you’re not going to be the only one coming in today.’
>Write-In

>>2605367
>‘What do you even want me to do when I find her?’

>>2605367
>>‘What do you even want me to do when I find her?’

>>2605367
>>‘What do you even want me to do when I find her?’

File: Mutsu.jpg (23 KB, 242x183)

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‘What do you even want me to do when I find her?’

Nagato bites her lip, looking unsure.

‘I … don’t know,’ she confesses again, letting out a great big sigh. It was almost ironic that she could lay into you with less restraint than a starving tiger in front of a meat spread, but the topic of her sister suddenly left her tongue-tied—and in addition to that, deprived of actual working options. ‘I think that, if it comes to that, I’d have to take my responsibilities as her sister and … find the words myself.’

‘“Why did you dump this in a bargain bin” might be a good place to start,’ you quip, hoping to lift her spirits, if only little. ‘So you just want me to tell you that I did?’

‘I guess,’ Nagato answers, biting her bottom lip. ‘I … I think that this is starting to come on like a bad idea … maybe she doesn’t care enough for me to talk about me like that. It’s not as if I have something with her like Samidare and Shigure do.’

As if on cue, a squeak of a yawn catches your ears; you turn to see Shigure wrapping her sister in an embrace, Samidare making a sound somewhere between a complain and a whine, her arms unconsciously flailing. You can barely hold in a snort of amusement, remembering just how deadly the former could be in combat. A turn back to Nagato has you seeing her thin her lips as she peers at the sight … before sighing again.

‘You want to make sure she’s safe,’ you state, trying to comfort her. ‘I think that if nothing else … that’ll cushion the brunt of it.’

Nagato wears a wry smile, appearing to consider the probability.

You don’t tell her it was a minute chance.

But Mutsu was a KanMusu … maybe she wouldn’t be as bad as people could be. Hopefully, anyway.

>‘So what was it that the both of you were arguing about? It couldn’t have been as shallow as … that?’
>‘Any way I could try and get in touch with her? If she’s even … around?’
>‘That’s nice … let me have my peace and quiet. Chances are you’re not going to be the only one coming in today.’
>Write-In

>>2605402
>‘So what was it that the both of you were arguing about? It couldn’t have been as shallow as … that?’

>>2605402
>‘Any way I could try and get in touch with her? If she’s even … around?’

>>2605402
>>‘So what was it that the both of you were arguing about? It couldn’t have been as shallow as … that?’

>>2605402
>‘So what was it that the both of you were arguing about? It couldn’t have been as shallow as … that?’

File: Ngt.jpg (114 KB, 627x574)

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‘So what was it that the both of you were arguing about?’ Your inquiry is mostly nestled in the fact that one stray word couldn’t have pierced the thick skins of most KanMusu … and seeing how tough a broad Nagato herself was, you suspected that there was something more to it (or that you deserved a more detailed explanation) than a stray comment about duty and responsibility; if they were sisters, you didn’t by that as the underlying reason of their … tiff.

There were two things in life you never got between: a predator and their meal … and two family members having a dispute. Walking into the latter, however, was what you were effectively going into now—head first and with reckless abandon as your sails. It was a miracle you’d lived this long.

‘Just … things,’ she communicates hesitantly. Whatever had happened, it was definitely a little bit more detailed than just what you’d set the threshold by; Nagato was never this evasive where it counted. ‘I already told you what I said, Comm—Vice-Admiral, that’s all that matters, isn’t it?’

Maybe it was because she was a Battleship, built to endure and power on through over actually playing the agile scrapper … but she was terrible at diverting the point away from an obvious bullseye.

‘You don’t … strike me as the type to actually have something to say on that end without a prompt.’

‘I started it,’ she confesses crisply. ‘Isn’t that enough?’

>‘No.’ (Roll a 1d6 each DC:16)
>‘All right, I’m sorry for pressing that.’ (Step away from the point)

Rolled 1 (1d6)

>>2605459
>>‘No.’ (Roll a 1d6 each DC:16)

"Come on Nagato, work with me. We all make mistakes and I'm not gonna judge you."

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>2605459
>>‘No.’ (Roll a 1d6 each DC:16)

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>2605459
>‘No.’ (Roll a 1d6 each DC:16)

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>2605459
>‘No.’ (Roll a 1d6 each DC:16)

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>2605459
>>‘No.’ (Roll a 1d6 each DC:16)

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>2605459

File: Mucchu.jpg (368 KB, 700x989)

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‘No,’ you answer firmly. ‘It isn’t.’

‘I just want you to—’

‘I know what you want me to do,’ you cut right in, taking your stance, ‘but you’re asking me to work with too many unknowns to give anything remotely favourable back. It’s like paying me upfront for a meal I can’t make with ingredients I don’t have … you don’t put someone on the spot like that without a little bit of room to work with.’

‘You’re not going to let this go past, are you?’

You offer her an apologetic smile, but don’t think for a moment of stepping back on the declaration.

‘I’d rather know what I’m actually dealing with than jumping in blind and then later having to weave a raft out of the wreckage.’

‘That’s a very hypocritical metaphor,’ Nagato comments, snapping your insistence right back into your face before continuing, ‘but I guess … I guess I should tell you the whole story.’

‘So what happened?’

Your Sub-Commander furrows her brows, more than likely trying to recall the event that had led to the souring of their relationship. You don’t push her; the last thing you wanted was a sock in the jaw or worse: a Nagato with a grudge. You weren’t sure if she could carry one with a superior Officer … but you weren’t keen on finding out.

‘It’s … complicated,’ she finally starts, ‘but I … at the time, I was still trying to sort a lot of things for myself out. Being a KanMusu … you don’t really consider much outside of the next mission. I mean … I believed in having allies, comrades, a life outside, but … ultimately, I know what I’m here for. What we’re all here for. With Mutsu, I always that she was a little … odd, even when you counted the Carriers. She was a little too … I think that the word you use is … well-adjusted.’

‘Well-adjusted?’

‘She was a fighter, right up there with the best of us, but,’ Nagato pauses, sighing, then continuing, ‘Mutsu had this strange quality to her. Something that was … something that we didn’t have; like she was complete. She loved me … she loved everyone; she laughed, she cried and she laughed some more. She was curious, driven … and even when I told her not to, she went and had this made: something to carry me by, even when I wasn’t around. Called it an affectionate gesture.’

‘I would’ve been honoured.’

‘Back then I … didn’t understand it that well; it was like she … she lived in the hope that there was a tomorrow for her, for me. Every other day, coming back from a patrol, she’d talk about … the future.’

She pauses.

‘I hated it.’

>>2605524
>‘You were bitter that your sister actually had a dream that didn’t involve dying in battle? That she wanted more?’
>‘You … hated it? That’s … pretty unreasonable. Everyone’s got hopes and dreams.’
>‘Do you still think that way?’
>‘This was after your participation in Houshou’s orgies or before?’
>Drop the topic
>Write-In

>>2605524
>"Do you still think that way"
or maybe rather
>"What do you think now?"

>>2605533
>>‘Do you still think that way?’

>>2605539
>‘Do you still think that way?’

>>2605533
>‘Do you still think that way?’

>>2605533
>>‘Do you still think that way?’

File: Gatogato.jpg (691 KB, 706x1000)

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‘Do you still think that way?’

Nagato closes her eyes, as if considering the answer. ‘I don’t know,’ she admits, ‘but I do know that at the very least … I shouldn’t have said those things to Mutsu just because she didn’t believe in what she was taught. Maybe I was envious … maybe I still am … that she was able to cry, regret and step forward so openly … or maybe because she thought I was better than her, putting me in that position so high above, as if I was someone that she could rely on … but, even so, if she wanted to dream … whether I agree or not, it didn’t matter.’

‘That’s not exactly an answer,’ you point out. To your surprise, Nagato nods.

‘I’m … not quite confident of a future for myself, to be honest,’ she admits, wearing a small, melancholic … and distant smile. ‘I’ve always been practical, pragmatic and … present. My concerns are you, my responsibilities … and everything else comes after. Expecting the same from Mutsu … and not considering how she felt about it, that, at least, I can take responsibility for. I can feel sadness, regret … and futility, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t allow my realism to seep into my ideals.’

You raise an eyebrow, the strap of your eyepatch causing some discomfort in the movement.

You’re quite sure it didn’t work like that, but …

‘It’s a step in the right direction, I guess,’ you concur, if only partly, ‘if nothing else.’

‘I don’t think I’m quite up to Miss Kasumi’s level yet,’ she muses, ‘but maybe I’ll get there before I …’

She trails off, shaking her head. Giving the jacket one last look, she drops it right back in your hands, taking a step back and wearing a tight, formal smile, her business—for better or worse—settled.

‘Thank you, Vice-Admiral.’

Or it could have just been that this was as far as she was willing to go with this.

Nagato leaves with a respectful salute and a bow; very unlike her affectionate and personable entrance into your quarters before. The door closes and the chill of the morning air hits you again, reminding you of the occupied blanket that Samidare had just made a burrito out of herself with. Sighing tiredly, you place your jacket over your chair, taking several steps towards the matt—

Knock. Knock.

Just when you thought you could get away with sleeping in until the afternoon.

A second set of knocks comes, this one louder than the last.

>‘Go away!’
>Ignore them
>Answer the door
>Write-In

>>2605661
>Answer the door

>>2605661
>Answer the door

>>2605661
>Answer the door

>>2605661
>Answer the door

>>2605661
>Answer the door
Just finished catching up, and man you guys have no backbone at all. You help everyone at every opportunity and still get no respect whatsoever. You're her superior and you're doing her a favor, don't be so submissive.

>>2605661
>>Answer the door

>>2606063
So you would have preferred us to say no instead?

File: Murakumo.jpg (149 KB, 1680x1050)

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Throwing your head back (and wishing that you hadn’t bothered to get out of bed in the first place), you perform an about face and make a lazy march towards the door, placing your hand on the handle … to which the less-than-enthusiastic part of your mind pleaded with you: you didn’t have to answer the door just yet. No one behind that door would know that you were on your two feet and your bed was preoccupied (conquered like a sovereign nation unable to repel an invading force). You could just—

A more insistent set of knocks arrives … and duty outweighed laziness.

That automatically made the last two months of your life more productive than the twenty years that preceded it.

‘Hey, Commander! Sleep well?’

It was Murakumo, grinning brightly and throwing up a hand, clad with a towel around her waist and a sense of shame that didn’t extend to her chest. You lazily stare at her, a little off-balance from the unexpectedly cheerful assault on your morning.

>Slam the door in her face
>‘Girls shouldn’t be wearing towels like that.’
>‘Something that you need me to do?’
>‘Murakumo, this better be good.’
>Write-In

>>2606386
>‘Girls shouldn’t be wearing towels like that.’

>>2606386
>>‘Girls shouldn’t be wearing towels like that.’
>Morning Murakumo

>>2606386
>>‘Girls shouldn’t be wearing towels like that.’

>>2606386
>‘Girls shouldn’t be wearing towels like that.’

File: SO FLUFFY I'M GONNA.png (463 KB, 660x948)

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‘Girls shouldn’t be wearing towels like that.’

‘Eh? But Miss Loudmouth does!’

‘Loud—’

As if on cue, you’re greeted by the sight of another set of bare breasts … and a towel wrapped around the waist. Your hired Specialist walks out of the showers, drinking what you can only surmise to be a protein shake judging by the thick liquid sloshing around in her transparent bottle. She turns towards you, throwing a salute and a nod, the towel dropping to the floor … to which she nonchalantly picks it up and gives it a good crack before walking back to her room—in the nude—and closing the door with a dull thud.

‘See?’

You groan, running your hand over your face as you mumbled a countdown backwards. Ten or twenty, you didn’t care.

‘I don’t think Loudmouth is a standard that you should hold yourself to.’ At the very least, you had to try, right? You wouldn’t be a responsible head of the house without that effort.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Murakumo brushes off, puffing out her chest, as if in defiance, ‘anyway, I was wondering if you happen to be free today? Like, you got any plans?’

‘Any plans?’ You frown, puzzled … and exasperated. You’d already collected a plate full of favours at this point; a part of you wondered if you were going to be paid back in any capacity.

‘Yup!’

‘Why?’

Murakumo scowls, as if the answer was obvious. ‘Don’t play dumb, sir … come on, I’m running my dojo today!’

‘Today?’

She nods energetically. ‘Mm-hm! Got everyone cleared and ready to go! You coming?’

>‘No, I have plans. You have a good time.’ (Decline politely)
>‘After putting all time and effort in, it’d be stupid for me to skip on it.’ (Attend, tussle her hair)
>Write-In

>>2606444
>>‘After putting all time and effort in, it’d be stupid for me to skip on it.’ (Attend, tussle her hair)

>>2606444
>‘After putting all time and effort in, it’d be stupid for me to skip on it.’ (Attend, tussle her hair)

>>2606444
>>‘After putting all time and effort in, it’d be stupid for me to skip on it.’ (Attend, tussle her hair)

>>2606444
>‘After putting all time and effort in, it’d be stupid for me to skip on it.’ (Attend, tussle her hair)

‘After putting all that time … all that effort in, it’d be stupid for me to skip on it,’ you declare, tussling her hair and … immediately regretting it. It wasn’t the fluff that you were familiar with; they were like the fine roots of a mighty oak tree—which was all well and good—but the sensation left … a lot to be desired, if you were being a hundred percent honest.

You lift your hand from her head, wearing a scowl at the lack of fluffiness.

‘What happened to your hair?’

‘Oh, they just regrew it,’ Murakumo states, twirling a strand. ‘One of the I-Class Destroyers tried to bite my head off. I got Red all over me.’

‘Did it hurt?’

Murakumo only shrugs, making a non-committal expression.

>‘That’s it then?’ (Inquire further)
>‘Right, see you later, then.’ (Wave her off)
>‘So, you had time to hone your skills since the last time?’ (Casual, talk about her game console)
>Write-In

>>2606533
>>‘So, you had time to hone your skills since the last time?’ (Casual, talk about her game console)
nerd talk time

>>2606538
This

>>2606533
>‘That’s it then?’ (Inquire further)
“Did you make sure to apply your conditioner?”

>>2606533
>‘So, you had time to hone your skills since the last time?’ (Casual, talk about her game console)

>>2606533
>‘So, you had time to hone your skills since the last time?’ (Casual, talk about her game console)

File: __murakumo_kantai_collect(...).png (327 KB, 799x1124)

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‘So, you had time to hone your skills since our last bout?’

‘Last bout?’

‘That …’ you trail off, lifting your hands and making button-pressing gestures with your thumb. ‘You know, the fighting game? That’s what it is, right?’

‘Oh, you’re talking about that! I haven’t had much time to myself lately … been busy, busy, busy, you know how it is! Cracking the meta’s a lot harder than people think. You gotta know the match-ups, the frame-rate playing, how your television’s going to take that input … people really don’t get how screen size actually affects performance, you know? I mean … not that anyone cares, of course. I’m the only one who actually plays, so … just me against the computer … heh.’

You give a sympathetic nod.

Even if she didn’t look the part, Murakumo was definitely the sort that enjoyed a social session more than she did tapping game pads alone. Her abrasive—well, straightforward, at the very least—nature had shown a degree of desire for communication and contact in all manner of activity. Maybe that was why she had two controllers lying around, even when she was the only one that picked it up.

Maybe she was just waiting for someone to be her player two.

‘So no,’ Murakumo continues, shaking her head and smiling apologetically, ‘I haven’t gotten any better, nope.’

Your blue-haired Destroyer then strokes her chin, looking extremely thoughtful.

‘Still got enough in me to kick your butt, though!’

You cock an eyebrow.

>‘Maybe later, Murakumo. If the pattern continues, there’s probably going to be someone else charging at my door.’ (Decline, tussle her hair)
>‘Care for a game? It’s pretty late in the morning already anyway.’ (Offer a game)
>Write-In

>>2606678
>>‘Care for a game? It’s pretty late in the morning already anyway.’ (Offer a game)

>>2606678
>‘Care for a game? It’s pretty late in the morning already anyway.’ (Offer a game)

>>2606678
>>‘Care for a game? It’s pretty late in the morning already anyway.’ (Offer a game)

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‘Care for a game? It’s pretty late in the morning already, anyway … and I don’t have work.’

Her eyes light up in such a manner that you’re almost immediately reminded of Ikazuchi and Samidare combined. To you, she doesn’t look any different than a girl in junior high that had just been told by her father that she could spend the night out late. Any possible protest—existing or imaginary—is immediately cut off by the enthusiastic grasp of your Destroyer, who practically drags you to her room with quick, light footsteps (and leaving you to pick up her towel, forgotten in the excitement of having found someone of similar interest), turning the knob and greeting you with the view of crumpled clothes, unused bedsheets, a floor littered with cartridges of every ilk and make and the day’s change of clothing hung on the knob of the closet. She doesn’t even bother donning her clothes, diving into the array of cartridges and squeaking as she picked them up one by one, like an old lady that had spilled the contents of her purse and was fussing over their recovery.

Which, of course, left you with the unwelcome view of the evidence that her maintenance hadn’t been tended to, still. You won’t deny the temptation was there … to rush right to your room and grab a razor, spreading her cheeks and getting that niggling feeling gone for good … but after Kaga’s stern warning of your lack of delicacy and experience in regards to Nachi’s bits, the last thing you wanted was to have to deal with Murakumo’s mess of an aftermath.

Kaga couldn’t come back soon enough.

If she ever did.

‘Dangit,’ Murakumo curses, her nude form lifting an array of cartridges and noisily sorting through them, ‘why is it so hard to find these stupid things? Turbo Edition … Special Edition … oh, this is Contra—ah, oh, no … this is E.T.—last time I ask Samidare to pick something out of a box—and there’s … uh, where’s that stupid A-HA!’

As she leaps in triumph, the cartridges loudly clatter to the floor in a heap, prompting you to throw her an annoyed glance.

‘You should really take better care of those things,’ you chastise her, shaking your head. ‘Aren’t they really expensive?’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ she brushes it off … before holding up what appeared to be not one, not two … but four cartridges. ‘I know you wanted to go one-on-one with me, but in case you wanna kick butt together, I got a bunch of other things we can play!’

‘Kick butt together?’

‘Co-op!’ Murakumo declares excitedly, holding the cartridges like playing cards. ‘You an’ me, teamin’ up, kickin’ butt?’

‘Like usual?’

‘Ain’t complainin’! Pick!’

>>2606922
>'This one looks nice: Final Fight.'
>'Rampage? Is this like a monster movie or something?'
>'Wow, this is that new plane fighter game, isn't it? Xevious?'
>'Let's do this. Street Fighter's where it's at!'
>'I feel like a sporty mood. Why don't we play One on One?'
>'Hey, you got Contra! I heard about this! Why don't we play that?'
>Write-In

>>2606946
>>'Hey, you got Contra! I heard about this! Why don't we play that?'
JOLLY COOPERATION

>>2606946
>'Hey, you got Contra! I heard about this! Why don't we play that?'
>Write-In
“Also, can you at least put on some clothes?”

>>2606946
>'Hey, you got Contra! I heard about this! Why don't we play that?'
Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A, Start

>>2606946
>>'Hey, you got Contra! I heard about this! Why don't we play that?'

File: CONTRA.jpg (94 KB, 640x427)

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Even with all the things that she had painstakingly collected, however … there was one thing that you’d noticed. No, you’d noticed it before, you think … but you didn’t even think you would be given the ability to choose, especially not with someone else’s hardware. You bend over, picking up the cartridge and scrutinizing the cover on top. Yes, this was the real deal all right. You’d never owned an entertainment system like what Murakumo owned, but even with the bare minimum of knowledge … you know the crown of a marketing ploy had been achieved if you hadn’t even picked one up and recognized something in this ilk.

‘This is Contra, right? I heard about this …’ you trail off, turning the cartridge over as if you were expecting something magical on the other side. There wasn’t, of course. ‘Why don’t we play this? There’s a two player mode, isn’t there?’

Murakumo eyes the item in your hands with dread.

‘I … don’t trust myself playing Contra.’

You raise an eyebrow. ‘Why?’

‘Well … it’s a weird game, I guess,’ she confesses. ‘Something about it … stimulates things in KanMusu, apparently. I don’t have the full details, but getting my hands on that cartridge had me booked in for a psych evaluation. That there’s some sort of instinct or mumbo-jumbo that it draws out in us … in me.’

You frown; that was a weird explanation. ‘What’s the rundown on that?’

‘Lactation … involuntary discharge …’

You stare at the cartridge.

>‘It can’t be that bad. Come on.’ (Play Contra)
>‘If you say so.’ (Choose another game)

>>2607175
>>‘It can’t be that bad. Come on.’ (Play Contra)

>>2607175
>>‘It can’t be that bad. Come on.’ (Play Contra)
>what could possibly go wrong.jpg

>>2607175
>‘It can’t be that bad. Come on.’ (Play Contra)

>>2607175
>‘It can’t be that bad. Come on.’ (Play Contra)

File: contra-force-16.png (2 KB, 640x480)

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It can’t be that bad.

That’s what you had said … an hour? A day? A year? No, no, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that this time—this time—you were going to make that jump and you were going to blast that Abyssal bitch into smithereens. Orbs of fire and electricity zig-zagged the screen, keen on feasting upon the remainder of your lives. You’d died; again and again, you’d died and been sent tumbling to your doom, Murakumo—bless her soul—equally glued to the television screen as the both of you timed the jump, keen on—

‘NO!’

The both of you cry out in despair, slamming your fists against the floor, your endeavour mercilessly rendered nothing more than moot as you keel over, practically weeping. It was futile, impossible, inconceivable … what kind of sadist had thought up such a horrid outcome? To waste all that effort on a bad jump and horrible timing … was there no mercy? Couldn’t they just have put a bullet through the head of your avatar in the first stage and be done with it? You don’t know what to think anymore, rolling over and laying spread-eagled as Murakumo follows suit, her warning overstating the unessential and understating the vital.

‘Fuck this game,’ you lament, glaring at the cackling Abyssal Princess as her sprite marched into its conquest of the human race. ‘This isn’t a game. This is Abyssal propaganda. Who in the world would do such a thing?’

‘Welcome to my world,’ Murakumo grumbles, weeping over the control. ‘Stupid game. Fucking Anikom …’

>‘Right, I stink to high Hell and need to take a shower. We’ll kick her ass someday, soldier. Count on it.’ (Leave)
>‘Anikom?’ (Confused)
>‘On the bright side … you’re not lactating or dripping.’ (Joke)
>‘So this is what Samidare and Shigure put up with every night.’ (Realization)
>Write-In

>>2607257
>‘So this is what Samidare and Shigure put up with every night.’ (Realization)

>>2607257
>>‘So this is what Samidare and Shigure put up with every night.’ (Realization)
>not that i mind them coming into to sleep with me or use my bed

>>2607257
>‘So this is what Samidare and Shigure put up with every night.’ (Realization)

>>2607257
>‘So this is what Samidare and Shigure put up with every night.’ (Realization)

File: Hairykumo.jpg (124 KB, 850x1202)

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‘So this is what Samidare and Shigure put up with every night, huh?’

‘No,’ she corrects you, sounding offended, ‘I still know my limits, Vice-Admiral … I don’t know why they keep goin’ to your room, but it’s definitely not from me plugging my games in.’

‘If you say so,’ you grunt, rolling over … and panting. Despite being seated for what felt like hours—days—you’d inadvertently worked up a sweat; was this what gamers went through? You doubted it, but the intensity of having an electronic avatar under your command dodging lasers, balls of fire and bullets of digital make had spurred you on in a way you hadn’t thought before.

That didn’t stop you from thinking the damn system was just a big ball of Abyssal propaganda, however.

No human could have the cruelty to engineer such a broken system. You refused to believe it.

‘Maybe you should just start accepting that you’re someone worth being around, sir?’

You turn to face Murakumo, who was still nude and on all fours, offering you a friendly smile. She propped her bottom up into the air, her eyes facing you as she took a cat-like stance, resting her chin on her arms with her eyes dancing in tandem. You peer at her curiously, trying to digest the words off her tongue.

Were you?

Could you?

‘It’s hardly an applicable sample size,’ you point out, letting out a breath and staring at the ceiling.

‘Is it really so hard? Thinking that people might like you?’

You’re unsure if she was just conveying her curiosity … or if she decided to put a foot on existentialism for your day to ponder on. Either way … it was Murakumo’s question. She had said it. You … you’re not sure if you actually had an answer.

>‘I’m not someone worth that amount of investment, believe me.’ (Hang On To The Past)
>‘Girls with hairy buttholes shouldn’t be talking about adult matters.’ (Evasive, Joking)
>‘That’s not for me to decide … but it’s a nice thought.’ (Hopeful)
>‘There’s a saying for Followers of the Book of Mithra: Choose your Judges well.’ (Spiritual)
>Write-In

>>2607317
>‘There’s a saying for Followers of the Book of Mithra: Choose your Judges well.’ (Spiritual)

>>2607317
>‘That’s not for me to decide … but it’s a nice thought.’ (Hopeful)

>>2607317
>>‘There’s a saying for Followers of the Book of Mithra: Choose your Judges well.’ (Spiritual)

>>2607317
>‘There’s a saying for Followers of the Book of Mithra: Choose your Judges well.’ (Spiritual)

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You chuckle as you feel that familiar twinge at the back of your head. It always came at the oddest of times. Not bad times, but … odd times. Whenever there was that little niggle that you needed to take that next step, that idea that linked thoughts … and for some reason, it was there. Sitting up, you rub your neck and let out a sigh. You’re not even sure if it was appropriate to say, but …

For some reason, you felt like it … fit.

‘There’s a saying for Followers of the Book of Mithra: choose your Judges well.’

Murakumo frowns, tilting her head.

‘What’s that mean?’

‘I don’t know,’ you admit, before pausing and realizing that … maybe you did. ‘I mean … it’s up to interpretation, I guess. Some take it like it’s the gospel preaching corruption; some say that it’s about putting the people worthy of power in charge of power … maybe it’s just some random advice, but, well, for me … I always took it as if I ever wanted someone to … put a label or a judgement on me, on anything … that the person that I give that I place that trust in—the people I believe to pass judgement on to me—are the ones that I can trust to see me for me, without prejudice or a rigged set of scales.’

As you finish your words, you let out a laugh, shaking your head and finally realizing at what you’d just uttered. You’d effectively just preached a sermon … and to no end or effect.

Stupid.

Stupid and pretentious.

‘Cheesy, ain’t it?’

‘Nope,’ Murakumo declares nonchalantly, shrugging. ‘Makes sense to me.’

You stare at her, incredulous.

‘What?’ she questions, tilting her head to one side.

Not knowing what else to do, you raise your prosthetic … and pat her head.

Murakumo doesn’t complain.

INTERLUDE END

File: Seaport Summer.jpg (152 KB, 850x1020)

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Even on weekends, the sun didn’t seem to take a break. Thankfully, however, the full state of your stomach made the day that laid before you all the more bearable. Regrettably, you’d missed a few key visits since your dive into the world of a certain side-scrolling action-packed military simulator, so engrossed were you in downing the Abyssal army and their human collaborators, grabbing upgrades and leaping obstacles with an almost superhuman—

No.

‘I haven’t even said anything,’ you mumble, closing the door behind you.

Do I look like I would be interested in boiling my host’s—and incidentally, your—bones into liquid just to indulge in a petty fantasy of scaling waterfalls and ledges?

You frown. You weren’t even thinking of indulging of the sort.

Yes, you were.

No you weren’t.

She was getting a little too chatty for your liking lately. For a practical parasite that had once leapt at the opportunity to infect the rest of your Division, she was remarkably talkative … especially since her transformation. You hadn’t even believed an Abyssal Princess could even have the propensity towards fashion … and now she was sporting a hat and a dress.

Maybe the next time an Abyssal tried to get into your head she’d have a ballroom gown.

But that could be saved for later: for now, the state of affairs had called for you to settle the affair with the joint-program, meet with the MP chief … and check what it was the Vice-Admiral had called on you for.

At least, that’s what the note on the fridge said.

6/6
>EXECUTE TASK (Specify)
>Look for KanMusu (Specify)
>Seek out Officers/Staff (Specify)
>Visit Location (Specify)
>Wander
>Write-In

>>2607844
>>EXECUTE TASK (settle the affair with the joint-program)
lets round this one up

>>2607844
>>EXECUTE TASK (Specify)
settle the affair with the joint-program

>>2607854
this but maybe get our secretary to come with

>>2607854
support.

File: __akashi_kantai_collectio(...).png (332 KB, 744x949)

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You jump off the buggy … and land right in a puddle. It was a good thing that you had leather boots on … or you’d really be in a foul mood. The driver thunders off without another word, probably to drop off the two drunkards that had taken up a place in the back seat. There had apparently been a play-off game the night before … and the whole military population was nursing cheers and tears. Even the base looked like it was in a lull, save for the KanMusu on the waves, looking to finish up their own rotation for the day.

Flicking the grim off the tip of your boots, you then proceed to make a dash for the compound … and find yourself immediately engulfed in the warm embrace of a warm, toasty establishment. Letting out a sigh of content, you wonder if it would be possible to grab a pillow and just take a nap on one of the beds. They looked comfortable enough.

‘There you are!’

You grimace.

The idea goes out the window by the shrill arrival of that familiar voice. You turn on your heel to face Akashi, who was, thankfully, decent this time. Clad in her usual cross between a doctor’s uniform and a sailor suit, she marches over to you, wearing a neutral expression; one that might as well have been a great big smile given the context of your previous encounter. Two feet away from you, she shoves what appears to be a cardboard folder into your chest. You clumsily grab hold of the item with a frown, only to find the pink-haired doctor gesturing for you to follow her.

It’s not long before you arrive inside what appeared to be an examination room—a clinic, void of any and all human presence save for the you … and her. The place didn’t look like it had been used at all. Instruments were still off to one side, covered in sheets, files and the like hadn’t even—

And that’s when you realize: this was another of Akashi’s offices.

‘Take a seat,’ she offers, gesturing to an examination stool.

You take her up on it.

A noisy screech and a pull later—one that she oddly doesn’t bring attention to—you find Akashi scribbling across the what appeared to be another myriad of forms she had practically pulled out of nowhere. Akashi blitzes through the document, mumbling through herself, going sheet by sheet at tremendous speeds; one that even left you impressed. It was a wonder that the pages didn’t catch fire.

‘Aren’t you going to read that?’

‘Huh?’

Akashi glares at you, gesturing to the folder in your hands.

‘Oh.’

She rolls her eyes as you meekly untie the string, pulling out what appeared to be … a form of sorts.

‘What am I looking at here?’

Akashi groans. ‘Your friend’s evaluation tally, of course!’

>‘Oh.’ (Keanu Reeves Impersonation)
>‘I’d rather hear it from you.’ (Upfront)
>Go through the details
>Write-In

>>2607879
>Go through the details
Ask Akashis' opinion afterwards anyway.

>>2607879
>Go through the details

>>2607880
this

>>2607879
>>Go through the details

She obviously wants us to read it first.

File: Akashi.png (297 KB, 551x377)

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You pull out the first sheet, letting out a sigh as you read off the top and make your way down. Outside of the medical jargon, you were able to make your way through the details just fine. However, the whole thing read more like an essay than it was an affirmation or rejection of Kasumi’s skill set. You bleep over words you can’t make sense of (musculoskeletal, benzo-something and the like) and focus on what you can, mostly the ones that were written in detailed logs of evaluation regarding your friend’s capabilities.

It was quite a lot, really, especially for such a small collection of sheets.

But it didn’t make heads of tails of anything. If this was an evaluation, where was the bottom line? You felt that you were reading through half a CV … or the opening pages of a portfolio, rather than a proper presentation of the pros and cons of your temporary quarry. Shaking your head as you reach the end of the fifth page, you shuffle the pages and slide them back into the folder, confused as to why Akashi had tried to bring the item in question to your attention. What were you meant to pick out from that mess?

‘What am I supposed to be looking at here?’ you question, feeling a little exasperated at having to spend the last ten minutes of your weekend morning reading through a pile of jargon and double-speak. Saying a lot without saying anything was a skill that was taught … but one you never hoped would ever be in application: that you had been subject to it only served to irritate you.

‘That is your friend’s—’

‘I know what it is,’ you interrupt Akashi, glaring at her as you set the folder on your lap, crossing your legs and adjusting your eyepatch. ‘What’s this supposed to be telling me? This looks like the sort of thing a PhD application expects on a dime; is this approval, disapproval … do you need me to do another tes—’

‘I’ve talked to the three representatives,’ Akashi cuts in, setting down her pen. ‘By what I’ve gathered, the both of you handled the situation pretty well. I don’t think I ever expected them to be so … compliant. There were a few things to work out, but I think as far as her abilities go, there’s nothing stopping me from bringing her on …’

‘Except?’

‘Good catch.’

‘You know,’ you start coolly, ‘you can be a lot less of a sadist when it comes to these sort of things.’

‘Where’s the fun in that?’

You don’t smile.

‘It goes out the window when the concern in question involves the livelihood of someone I care about.’

Akashi looks downward. ‘My apologies.’

‘So she didn’t make it, huh?’

‘What? No, I can bring her on, but … she’ll have to be an intern until she’s able to fully acquire her qualifications.’

You blink. ‘An internship?’

‘She’ll be working under me … and acquire credits based on her performance on the field.’

>>2607950
>'So what's this dog and pony show for?' (Gesture to the file)
>'I guess that's the best we can do, then; she is still effectively an undergraduate ...' (Accept)
>'On the field? Isn't that a little ... risky?' (Worried)
>Write-In

>>2607956
>>'On the field? Isn't that a little ... risky?' (Worried)

Generally think its fine but maybe just clarify this bit.

>>2607956
>>'On the field? Isn't that a little ... risky?' (Worried)
What would field work entail

>>2607956
>'So what's this dog and pony show for?' (Gesture to the file)

>>2607956
>>'On the field? Isn't that a little ... risky?' (Worried)

You can hear the sirens from here, leaning over and peering at Akashi with as much worry as you were able to muster. Field-work? As much as you approved of Akashi taking your friend under her wing, there was something about that phrase that flipped your stomach. What did she mean by it? As much as you believed in Kasumi, there was a measure of doubt regarding her eligibility on that front.

Somehow, as the words gathered into a sentence, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were being a little … hypocritical in your fuss. Akashi meets your gaze, confused by the sudden closing of the distance.

‘On the field? Isn’t that a little, uh … out of the usual scope of an intern?’

‘We sent you out with a Battleship and two Carriers,’ Akashi quips, smirking as she leaned over with her point. ‘I think that we’ll well past the restrictions of qualifications, don’t you?’

‘You were going to let her walk without my appeal,’ you counter, frowning. ‘I don’t think that you’re desperate enough to pick up a random favour to put her in the capacity of both a student, an intern and an assistant … right?’

‘I’m not good at dealing with people, she’s shown to meet all the qualifications as per our agreement and as a gesture from the Admiralty, I have to start the process of the distribution of magical application. Believe me, Commander … I’m trying to manage things as well as I can, but I’m not about to let anyone walk these corridors without actually punching the hours in. Just to happens that … with her circumstances, she’ll just have to tough it out.’

You want to protest.

But if Kasumi was here, she’d probably sock you for it.

It didn’t have to connect, of course, but the thought was there.

‘So you approve?’

‘Indubitably,’ Akashi returns, wearing a wide smile.

It’s actually quite frightening.

>‘So what did you have me go over this for?’ (Refer to the file)
>‘Well … thank you. Guess that’s it, then.’ (Conclude)
>‘So she’s going to be your student, then? What’s your curriculum going to be like?’ (Curious)
>Write-In

>>2608011
>‘So she’s going to be your student, then? What’s your curriculum going to be like?’ (Curious)

>>2608011
>‘Well … thank you. Guess that’s it, then.
I don't think we need to pry in the doctors matters too much. We can ask Kasumi herself later if it gets the best of us.

>>2608011
>‘Well … thank you. Guess that’s it, then.’ (Conclude)

>>2608011
>>‘So she’s going to be your student, then? What’s your curriculum going to be like?’ (Curious)

‘Well … that’s it, then,’ you sigh in relief, getting to your feet. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Akashi cheerfully returns, wearing a friendly smile and giving an energetic nod. ‘As far as favours go, this is actually more beneficial to me than it is to you, so … I guess I should be thanking you, too.’

‘Ah, you don’t have to,’ you say in return, bending over backwards and giving your lower back a good crick, ‘I’m just glad I was able to kill two birds with one stone. Helped Kasumi … made your job a little bit easier for once.’

Akashi laughs, making her way around the table and coming right up to your form.

‘I know, right? I think I might have to start thinking up some contingencies … in case of competency, break glass.’

‘I wouldn’t be against it,’ you chortle, giving an approving nod.

Akashi throws up a salute, nodding right back.

‘Have a good one, Commander.’

You throw up a salute, striding casually towards the door, glad your day had ended up starting on a good note for once.

‘You too, Akashi.’

5/6
>EXECUTE TASK (Specify)
>Look for KanMusu (Specify)
>Seek out Officers/Staff (Specify)
>Visit Location (Specify)
>Wander
>Write-In

>>2608059
>>EXECUTE TASK (Specify)
>check what it was the Vice-Admiral had called on you for

Admiralty stuff first

>>2608059
meet with the MP chief and check what it was the Vice-Admiral had called on you for.
these are tha task left to do as-in-now

>EXECUTE TASK (meet with the MP chief)

>>2608070
supporting

>>2608059
>>EXECUTE TASK (District Management)

>>2608059
>>2608371
>>EXECUTE TASK (District Management)
We havent done this in ages.

>>2608071
Supporting

>>2608588
>>2608371
im pretty sure Mechanic added District Management to our paper work so we wouldnt have to waste AP to do it
like 80% sure

>>2608994
>>2608588
yea he did
we now deal with that while doing paperwork if we need to

File: Vice-Admiral.gif (1.73 MB, 500x327)

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You had to admit … you’d never visited the Vice-Admiral’s residence before. You never really had reason to until now. You’d encountered him at the gym, at work … but you hadn’t been called up to his—

‘Is this the place?’

—apartment before.

To be fair, it wasn’t a high-rise apartment (none of the dwellings in Yokosuka broke a dozen stories, if you wanted to go loose) or expensive-looking. Most of the people that were around looked to be from the median income demographic. You had some measure of surprise that a lot of the high-rise buildings had been left standing in the first place; the last time you’d heard anything about these units was that they were having problems with running and filtered water.

You wonder if they’d fixed that by now, really …

‘Move it, kid!’

Grumbling—but not complaining—you step forwards, not bothering to even pay a look to the offending persons, shuffling as the moved past you. It wasn’t a bad complex (other than a few cracks and some recently-patched walls it was miles and change above what you could afford back in your cooking days), but the people that had taken up residence were sporting some nasty attitudes. Even getting up here, waiting for an elevator, walking in … you’d been greeted by suspicious looks and disapproving glares. It was like time had stopped around the fifth day of your appointment in the apartment compound.

You read off the note again: Ooyodo’s staff had been kind enough to give you the address. This was the place, according to the sheet of paper … but it did strike you as sort of strange. You’d been afforded a compound; practically a house … and there were no KanMusu in sight here in these parts; weren’t KanMusu supposed to live with their superiors?

Were you the oddity or was he?

But … you supposed that it didn’t matter. Raising your prosthetic, you lightly rap on the door and step back, waiting for the Vice-Admiral to let you in.

No answer. Perhaps it was a little too soft?

You try again; harder, this time.

The seconds pass, ten, twenty …

The door swings open, revealing the ragged face of the Vice-Admiral. Clad in nothing but his boxer shorts and a slightly crooked eye=mask, his beard a little untrimmed and his nose wrinkled. His face actually looks cratered, as if he had been rolling in the sand and then burying his face in the mud. His body, taut, sculpted and powerful, remained so … only without the usual energy that he emanated. It was amazing how much expression and form translated to impression. He looked no different from a bum. Only thing that he had going for him were the muscles that he wore.

‘Commander? What’re you doing here?’

You frown. Hadn’t he called you here?

>‘Friendly visit?’
>‘You … wanted to see me?’
>‘I have no idea.’
>Write-In

>>2609748
>‘You … wanted to see me?’

>>2609748
>>‘You … wanted to see me?’
>you did send me a note to meet you right?

>>2609748
>‘You … wanted to see me?’

‘Didn’t you … want to see me?’

He grimaces. ‘Sorry, Commander, but whatever your assumptions, I don’t swing that way.’

‘No, I mean …’ you trail off, rubbing the back of your neck. The Vice-Admiral was attractive for his range—in general—but you didn’t nudge the nose in that direction either … and you were frankly a little disturbed that the man in question would peg you as such. ‘I got a note in my barracks that you … wanted to see me. You didn’t?’

He straightens himself out, frowning and letting out a breath as he ran his hand through his hair.

‘Can’t think of anything that I wouldn’t head down to see you personally … you know I ain’t the type to send someone out or draw them out on a weekend, if nothing else.’

‘Yeah,’ you state in agreement. Whatever the Vice-Admiralties proclivities, he definitely wasn’t the type to step on your toes when it came to spending your free time … except when it came to the gym. Thankfully, however, with the recent rise in workload … you actually had a valid reason not to resume your gym visits.

‘Weird world,’ the Vice-Admiral mumbles, cricking his neck and running a hand over his face. ‘I seriously don’t remember any outstanding appointments, though … and like I said, if I wanted to see you, I’d—’

‘You’d go ahead and march up yourself, right?’

Before he can offer a reply, however, the Vice-Admiral drops into a crouch, hugging his knees to his chest and letting out a groan. Worry coming over you, you move to help your downed superior … only to find him holding out an outstretched palm and letting out a grunt and a cough, followed by a great belch. You wrinkle your nose in disgust at the display, taking a step back and making a face in quick succession. Even from here the ghost of a whiff was more than apparent to you … and as much as you held the man to standard, there were some things that you couldn’t let slide.

Mass consumption of cheap alcohol was one.

‘Is that Singha beer?’

‘Good nose,’ the Vice-Admiral grunts, stumbling to his feet. ‘Big game last night.’

‘I heard. Who won?’

‘Don’t know, don’t care,’ he returns, shaking his head and leaning on the door frame. ‘Went out with the tech guys to watch the playoffs … nothing much to do but watch, though. Both sides were crap; managers should’ve been shot.’

You cock the eyebrow just above your eyepatch. ‘Thought you didn’t have a horse in the race.’

‘When you’re going out for drinks and a game, you expect a good game and some measure of taste when it comes to flavour,’ he states, shaking his head wildly. ‘Didn’t get either last night.’

‘Not lacking in quantity, for sure.’

‘Free beer.’

You sigh.

Perhaps this was why there was a note for you to drop by.

>Write-In

>>2609957
>Write-In
“Well we’re up anyways. Wanna go catch some breakfast? Some hot food and coffee will help with that hangover.”

>>2609971
supportin
gotta get some food in ya to help with hangovers
so long as you can keep it down

>>2609971
Supporting.

>>2609971
Supporting.

>>2609971
Catch breakfast or make him some breakfast?

>>2610068
Have breakfast together

>>2610068
guess we can make him food

File: Vice-Admiral.jpg (183 KB, 662x880)

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‘Well, since I’m here … you wanna go and get something to eat? If nothing else, some hot coffee and a plate full ‘a chow’ll help you get right over that hangover.’

He grumbles, covering his face, but doesn’t seem too against the idea, despite his condition. You didn’t know what the right cure for a hangover was … but you definitely knew suffering with some company felt better compared to being at a table alone lamenting a drunken mistake. The Vice-Admiral gestures for you to enter, closing the door behind him. To your surprise, despite the lack of size, the place was actually quite … tidy, save for the beer cans and the waste paper basket that most definitely didn’t belong on the table. It was, however, quite barren. One kitchen counter that hadn’t seen much use, a few outlets, a radio and some boxes that hadn’t even been bothered to be emptied of their contents, an air force flag hung in one corner with a television set which had its back turned to you … and its screen facing the wall. As the Vice-Admiral moves past you (scratching his bottom for good measure), you get a sense of scale for the place … and realize that it was, by function and design, a bachelor’s pad converted from a family unit.

Housing officials

‘Sorry about the mess,’ the Vice-Admiral grunts, walking over and picking his pants up from one of the high stools by the counter. ‘Haven’t had time to, uh … anything.’

You’re not sure if that justified truth or if it was evidence to a fib. Either way, it wasn’t a point worth pursuing.

‘So this is your place?’

‘Yup,’ he grunts again, sounding like he was suffering just putting his feet in his pants. ‘This is where the magic happens.’

As your gaze falls to a chair by a wall, you try not to bring attention to what appeared to be a stack of dirty magazines.

‘It’s a little big,’ you comment, giving the place another glance. ‘You live alone?’

‘Yeah … about … eight months now, I think,’ he reveals. ‘A lot of the families that use to live here got spooked by the increased Admiralty activities. I’m not one to take advantage of a firesale, but they didn’t have an eye on coming back. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bank exec keel over like that in my life.’

‘Bank exec?’

‘They don’t make money from cold hard cash. So it’s a little bit of a tear on their pants when you pay the lump sum up front.’

You move along the room. It was definitely tidy. No dust, no … not much of anything, really. The place looked neat, but it felt like whoever that lived here … didn’t actually live here.

‘Oh.’

You spy a coffee table, decorated with three pictures. An old, greyed picture of an old man wearing an eyepatch with his hand on the shoulder on a young boy, another one with what you can only guess to be a younger Vice-Admiral, clad in his Air Force uniform and …

One of him and several girls. Several KanMusu.

Kongou among them.

>>2610169
>'So who's the guy in this picture?'
>'This from your Paratrooper days?'
>'So this is your old team? Kongou ...'
>Write-In

>>2610169
>>'This from your Paratrooper days?'

>>2610171
>'So this is your old team? Kongou ...'

>>2610169
>>'So this is your old team? Kongou ...'

>>2610171
>'So this is your old team? Kongou .

File: Reminder That Houshou Is (...).jpg (142 KB, 720x1024)

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‘So this is your old team?’

You’re able to recognize Kongou right away. She’s the one at the front of the group, practically hanging from the stern-faced Vice-Admiral in the picture, whose gaze held nothing but the utmost seriousness. There were several other KanMusu surrounding them: four, in fact. However, outside of Kongou, you found yourself a little lost pointing out the identities of the other four. You didn’t want to adjudge by scale, but one of them appeared to be a Destroyer with pink hair and a face just as stern as her Commander, wearing white gloves and with another arm in a sling. In all likelihood, she was probably still in recovery from a previous mission. Another one you were quite sure was related to Nachi … the name, however, escaping you (probably the one that had caused your own KanMusu to erupt in a burst of rage); she was staring right at the camera, a business smile on her face and trying her best to not notice the chaos erupting all around the photo shoot. The other two were … a little hard to place by class. KanMusu had a vague range that correlated firepower to outward appearances, but …

If you were a betting man, you weren’t sure to flip a coin on whether they were Destroyers or Light Cruisers. One of them had a shock of what looked like the meeting point of pink and purple presented as her hair as she laid on the ground like a cat, while the other … the other one had a shock of red hair and was crouched, wearing a crimson tie-cum-scarf that complimented strands of fire on her head, grey eyes shining as they looked up at you.

‘Yeah … old team,’ the Vice-Admiral confirms, walking up to you and straightening out his shirt. ‘Recognize any of ‘em?’

‘Why would I?

‘You’re the fanboy, aren’t you?’

>‘Sorry, the only one I recognize is Kongou.’
>Guess
>‘Let’s get going. You must be hungry, right?’
>Write-In

>>2610301
>>Guess
>Shiranui
>Myoukou
>Arashi
>Tama
>Kongou

>>2610351
This

>>2610351
Going for this

“So who else fought kongou for the secretary ship position.”

>>2610351
Correct on all counts

>>2610706
Yay

>>2610351
Support time to nerd out.

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‘That’s … Shiranui, right?’ you point out, placing your hand on the white-gloved, pink-haired girl. ‘I remember her from the TV show. It was only one scene, but she was one of the transfer into the base and … is she standing on a stool or something?’

‘Huh?’

‘No, it’s just … I remember the Shiranui on the TV show being a little bit shorter than this.’

‘Oh,’ the Vice-Admiral let out, chuckling heartily as he shakes his head. ‘Yeah, they manipulated a lot of the angles for her shots … the actor—forgot what his name was—got kind of sensitive that Shiranui ruined the perspective focus. She was meant to be there for a bit more than one episode, but, well … she didn’t have time to deal with egos. Not in this line of work, no.’

You let out a small chuckle yourself. That much you did understand.

‘These are Arashi and Tama,’ you indicate, pointing them both out. ‘Arashi was in that soft drink commercial with … I think it was Carrier Akagi? Red something, I don’t know. The one where Arashi kicked a can into a goal with an Abyssal Princess standing in it. I don’t think it was a good ad, myself … I remember the ad, but I don’t remember the drink.’

‘She was?’ The Vice-Admiral blinks in surprise.

‘You didn’t know?’

‘Probably before or after she was put in my Division, then,’ he grunts out, clutching his forehead. He definitely needed some food and coffee in him now. ‘You know, if there was one thing I learned about life from the KanMusu, it’s that Arashi’s made it clear that achieving a balance of work, play and your social life is all about knowing when to tug the reins and letting ‘em slip. A little too energetic for my pace, but … she got along just fine with the others and did the business; didn’t have any reason to put in a transfer on her.’

You frown. ‘Didn’t like her?’

‘Oh no, she was okay, I just … found her weird.’

‘Well, I know Tama from memory, too … I wasn’t quite sure at first, but she helped open an animal shelter in my hometown. I think she was one of the only KanMusu other than Kongou and her sisters to pay a visit. Does the Admiralty do a lot of charity events?’

‘Only if it’s good for PR,’ the Vice-Admiral snorts.

‘That’s probably about the size of it.’

Your eye scrolls from the corner to the last KanMusu you hadn’t clued out yet, biting your lip. You had never seen her before, but the focus in her eyes, the angle of her jaw and her stance … there was no mistake about it.

‘And this is Myoukou, right?’

The Vice-Admiral runs a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath.

‘Yeah.’

>>2611926
>'Is she ...' (Inquire further about Myoukou)
>'Are you in contact with any of the others? I mean, other than Kongou.' (Inquire as to his status with them)
>'Was this your only team? I know the Admiralty had a pretty liberal transfer policy.' (Peek into his history)
>'So how does Hiei know you?' (Curious)
>'Yeah, let's go.' (Drop it)
>Write-In

>>2611935
>'Is she ...' (Inquire further about Myoukou)

>>2611935
>'Is she ...' (Inquire further about Myoukou)

>>2611935
>>'Is she ...' (Inquire further about Myoukou)

>>2611935
>'Is she ...' (Inquire further about Myoukou)

‘Is she …’

You trail off, turning to your superior. Nachi hadn’t talked about Myoukou at all—she hadn’t talked about any of her sisters, in fact—and anything you knew about her family life and her relationships that didn’t directly lead back to you and the Division had been summed up by the Heavy Cruiser smacking you onto the floor on MASH grounds in your interception of a blow meant for the man beside you. More than that, though, you were genuinely curious of the fate of Nachi’s sisters. Asking Nachi about it was right out—and downright insensitive—but if the Vice-Admiral had anything to add on the matter, you felt that this was the most appropriate time to ask.

‘Killed in action,’ the Vice-Admiral declares bluntly. ‘Nice funeral.’

You blink, incredulous. That was it?

‘That’s it?’

‘That’s it,’ you hear him, utter, stretching his arms overhead. ‘I wasn’t invited, though, but I saw that the Admiralty allowed a procession. They don’t give that out much … or rather, they didn’t, with out workload. I drove out, but … well, they were already starting the ritual without me, so I just got back on the jeep and drove back.’

‘But that’s—’

‘Huh?’

The Vice-Admiral peers at you curiously, his expression spotted with bits and pieces of what could only be puzzlement. You’re not sure if you were overreacting to a reveal, but you’d … you’d thought that the Vice-Admiral would have a few more words to say than just an explanation of the processions (and even then, one not as vague) or praise for it.

‘Something wrong?’

>‘You don’t care at all that Myoukou died?’ (Outrage)
>‘Nothing, so … anything about the rest of the girls?’ (Divert)
>‘I thought you’d be a little bit more … more, I guess.’ (Observe his lack of reaction)
>‘Nothing, let’s … let’s go.’ (Leave)
>‘I need to get going, sir. Sorry.’ (Leave without him)
>Write-In

>>2612059
>‘Nothing, so … anything about the rest of the girls?’ (Divert)

People die in war, and his hungover still I think.

>>2612059
>>‘I thought you’d be a little bit more … more, I guess.’ (Observe his lack of reaction)

>>2612059
>‘I thought you’d be a little bit more … more, I guess.’ (Observe his lack of reaction)

>>2612059
>>‘I thought you’d be a little bit more … more, I guess.’ (Observe his lack of reaction)

File: No Crying Until The End.jpg (367 KB, 675x929)

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‘I thought you’d be a little more …’ you bite your lip, considering your follow up, ‘a little more more, I guess.’

The Vice-Admiral takes the frame out of your hands, casting a neutral gaze upon the photograph. You want to give a good read of the man before you … but his expression is calculated, professional. There is no emotion, no tear, no laughter … no solemnity in that gaze, that expression. He looks at the photograph like … like it’s some report, or the front page of a newspaper. He moves around you, giving your shoulder an inadvertent bump, and proceeding to take a seat on the only piece of soft furniture present.

You were not quite sure how long the Vice-Admiral contemplates the item in his hands.

You were even more uncertain of how long you stood there watching him, passive and expectant.

But when he did finally break from the reverie … you found it that it came with a sarcastic snort and a half-snarl, before setting the frame on the table in the middle of the room and slouching back, the aches of his hangover now replaced with the unamused reflection of a man who was somewhere between detachment and holding onto something with a blade of grass. You can only frown in puzzlement at the sudden, if subtle, burst. Tears, you could expect; anger, even more so, but …

The Vice-Admiral just seemed … distant.

‘I didn’t come here to make friends,’ he declares. However, it wasn’t in defiance, arrogance … it was as plain and subtle as if he was communicating a truth. ‘They came here to do a job … and they can only do their job if I do mine. It doesn’t do well to dwell on who’s left behind … only who’s left dragging their asses right next to you. Maybe I don’t have a bone for nostalgia in my body, but Myoukou was a good soldier … and crying about the fact that she died doing her job would be an insult from me.’

‘That’s a little cold, isn’t it?’

You don’t mean it to sound so accusatory.

Or maybe you did.

‘I had more than my fair share of drops, Commander,’ he continues, eyes fixed back upon the frame that laid on the table. ‘This isn’t a life that we chose because it was sunshine and rainbows … we don’t lay our lives down for people to mourn them. We lay them down so that the ones that can’t never have to. Myoukou’s gone … Arashi … everyone … but they didn’t do it so that they’d leave the ones picking up the pieces would waste time turning their hearts inside out with regret.’

He turns back to you.

‘The KanMusu can leave this world hating or loving you … it doesn’t matter. What does is what you do with the will that they leave you with. Besides …’

He grunts as he slouches in the armchair.

‘There’s a saying that my grandpa used to tell me, how you live, how you do things … there’s no crying until the end.’

>>2612283
>'Everyone does things their own way, I guess.' (Concede, pursue further conversation)
>'I got my own way of doing things, but I don't agree with that.' (Oppose, pursue further conversation)
>'A little cold, don't you think?' (Criticize)
>'And Kongou?' (Personal)
>'I don't think I could wash it out of my head if I ever lost anyone.' (Confront)
>'You want to get going now? (Leave)
>Write-In

>>2612288
>>'A little cold, don't you think?' (Criticize)

>>2612288
>>'I got my own way of doing things, but I don't agree with that.' (Oppose, pursue further conversation)

>>2612288
>>'Everyone does things their own way, I guess.' (Concede, pursue further conversation)

>>2612288
>'Everyone does things their own way, I guess.' (Concede, pursue further conversation)

>>2612288
>'I got my own way of doing things, but I don't agree with that.' (Oppose, pursue further conversation)

>>2612288
>'Everyone does things their own way, I guess.' (Concede, pursue further conversation)

‘Everyone does things their own way, I guess,’ you concede, unwilling to press yourself too hard. Regardless of how you felt, the man was still your superior … and you didn’t want to rock that boat more than you had to. It wasn’t as if your methodology was orthodox … in fact, if you were going by the book, you were breaking more than just one rule shoving your lust up that particular canal.

‘It’s nice to know that you’re unwilling to skirt the line of hypocrisy,’ the Vice-Admiral quips, picking up what appeared to be a cooler … and setting it right next to the set photo. ‘I’d hate to have to pick apart just what you’ve been up to, Commander.’

You frown.

‘I think I’ve done well enough staying out of trouble.’

The Vice-Admiral chuckles, shaking his head. ‘I’ll drink to that.’

To your surprise—and disgust—the man pops the cooler, sloshing through what was most certainly a collection of ice and water, picking out a bottle of cold Singha beer, the winking Haszadian on the wrapping making you practically cringe. You weren’t a heavy drinker, but for someone who had worked in the industry all those years, there wasn’t a bone in you that was interested at all in downing another bottle of Singha.

Especially not with the added fact that your Vice-Admiral appeared to already be nursing a hangover.

‘Go ahead,’ he offers, pushing the cooler forward.

>‘You do realize that’s Singha, right?’ (Food snob)
>Man up and take a bottle
>‘Well, you got the rest of your day sorted out, then. I’ll be off.’ (Leave)
>‘You’re already nursing one hangover.’ (Annoyed)
>Write-In

>>2612529
>>‘You do realize that’s Singha, right?’ (Food snob)
is this the equivalent to Budweiser?

>>2612529
>>Man up and take a bottle

Beer is beer. And one does not just refuse an offer of beer.

>>2612529
>‘Well, you got the rest of your day sorted out, then. I’ll be off.’ (Leave)

>>2612529
>Man up and take a bottle

>>2612542
https://www.ratebeer.com/beer/chang-beer/59123/

This, actually.

File: 1493901889930.jpg (330 KB, 809x1275)

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test

>>2612529
>Man up and take a bottle

File: coors-light-cold-activate(...).jpg (52 KB, 525x737)

52 KB JPG

You don’t like Singha.

You also believe you really shouldn’t be doing anything this early with a bottle of beer.

However, it was a testament to your gumption that you were able to just throw inhibition off and get up from that chair to pick a bottle up, surprised to find it still cold. The picture of the fat man practically taunts you as you stare at the label, distaste creeping over you as you survey the item in question as though it was an unpinned grenade. After what seemed like an eternity of deliberation, you decide that it was an afternoon … and it was only one bottle.

Just the one.

You crack it open with your prosthetic without much difficulty, placing the cap on the table … before downing.

‘Urgh!’

It’s every bit as vile as you remember. It was as though someone had diluted urine and sewage and fermented it with liquidated, rotten potatoes and rocks. You shake your head, wrinkling your nose as the Vice-Admiral’s chuckling makes itself apparent to you. Male pride, however, demanded that you not look so soft, especially after such an invite. Maybe this was as close to a salaryman’s call that you would get … and if so, you were thankful that this was as close as you’d care to step.

‘Not a drinker?’

‘Even if I was, Singha wouldn’t be on my bucket list.’

‘You’re much too uptight,’ the Vice-Admiral comments, taking another sip as you—urgh—follow through with the action. Good company lessened the impact … somewhat, and the Vice-Admiral at least had the kindness to be the one to offer both beverage and a friendly chat.

‘That’s the first time I’ve been accused of that,’ you chuckle, taking another sip of the cold liquid. It was comparable to cat urine and liquefied sandstones in texture, but the working neurons emphasized the faster you were done with it, the faster you could go ahead and be off. ‘You’re more work-minded than I am, if you don’t mind me saying so myself …’

‘Well, you miss the shots you don’t take,’ the Vice-Admiral imparts thickly, licking his lips. ‘I mean … you’re pretty much the same pay grade I am, so you can probably write up opportunity versus execution.’

You frown thoughtfully.

‘Are we getting paid for this?’

The Vice-Admiral only shrugs.

Maybe one day you could find the answer to that question.

Hee.

‘Well, still … regardless of everything,’ he pauses, leaning forward and giving the contents of his bottle a light swing, ‘I gotta say, though … don’t think I’ve ever seen a Commander—or an Admiral—operate with their KanMusu to the capacity you’ve done. Two months on the job … you’re practically a paragon by the standard.’

>>2612780
>'It's not a hard job. Treat 'em like everyone else and they give back with interest.' (Casual)
>'It's easier observed than it's executed.' (Disdain)
>'I don't think any of us really do much. All we do is just pat 'em on the back and give them medals.' (Dismissive)
>'You say that like there's a science to it.' (Puzzled)
>'I won't say paragon, but, well, I have my team and I'm responsible for them. However I do it doesn't really matter. I'm just happy I'm able to.' (Dutiful)
>Write-In

>>2612780
>>'It's not a hard job. Treat 'em like everyone else and they give back with interest.' (Casual)

>>2612789
>>'It's not a hard job. Treat 'em like everyone else and they give back with interest.' (Casual)

>>2612789
>>'It's not a hard job. Treat 'em like everyone else and they give back with interest.' (Casual)

>>2612789
>'It's not a hard job. Treat 'em like everyone else and they give back with interest.' (Casual)

>>2612789
>'I won't say paragon, but, well, I have my team and I'm responsible for them. However I do it doesn't really matter. I'm just happy I'm able to.' (Dutiful)

>>2612789
>'It's not a hard job. Treat 'em like everyone else and they give back with interest.' (Casual)

File: __kongou_kantai_collectio(...).jpg (322 KB, 1114x929)

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‘It’s not a hard job,’ you answer nonchalantly, taking another sip (and immediately regretting it), ‘if you treat them like everyone else, you get more bang for your bucks than anything else. I’m not sure if that makes me emotionally cheap or them emotionally naive.’

‘Either-or,’ the Vice-Admiral returns, taking a sip (and making you cringe in disgust at his enjoyment). ‘It’s not a mutually exclusive explanation.’

You think about it for a moment.

‘I guess.’

Another sip—no, a gulp this time.

‘Well, you’re doing a better job than I ever did,’ he snorts, leaning back and wearing a wry smile. ‘Screwed it up with Myoukou … screwed it up with Kongou.’

>‘Myoukou? You were …’
>‘You regret not shacking up with Kongou now?’
>‘Are we really going there, sir?’
>Sip in silence
>Leave
>Write-In