Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A woman with short blonde hair, dressed like an office lady with a dark green jacket woke up on the bridge of a ship that looked quite futuristic, the woman woke up with a heavy breathing. She sat down on a chair that looked quite comfortable and looked around. 

"Huh... Strange... I feel like I was at the harbor earlier... Wait, why am I talking? Why is my voice so feminine?!" The blonde woman looked panicked and tried to stand up. The key word was trying. 

The woman immediately fell down and hit her head on one of the tables where the high-ranking officer used to do planning, she groaned in pain before finally using the table that hurt her head to support her body to stand up. 

"Okay... Somehow I became a human and none of my crew is here, where is Captain Jamie or Executive Officer Horatio Cortez?!" Said the blonde woman frantically.

"This all makes no sense, is this a follow-up attack from the Directorate? I know that Old Man Mike is right, we should just bomb Beijing back to the stone age." Said the blonde-haired woman irritably. 

That's right, this blonde-haired woman was the incarnation of the USS Zumwalt who somehow became a female human. 

Zumwalt then tried to find a way out of the ship's bridge or you could say her original 'body'. She managed to get out and saw a very wide view of the sea and the weather was very clear, the air smelled quite humid which is very typical of the Pacific sea, maybe the south? 

She saw that the ship was in a combat ready state, she tried to check the magazine of the VLS and AGS, surprisingly she didn't need to look directly because she could somehow access the CCTV cameras inside the VLS and AGS. 

"It seems I have full control of my ship, let's give it a try." Zumwalt thought about moving forward and sure enough, she suddenly felt the ship shaking slightly before it finally started moving. 

The soft sound of the engine made the blonde woman smile quite widely, she never got tired of hearing the sound of the engine especially after being upgraded by Doctor Vernalise Li, a lecturer from the University of Wisconsin who was recruited by the government through the FBI.

"Hmm access to the Satellite is not possible, meaning that some of my weaponry will have to be recalibrated so that it can be used through my radar only, but reducing the attack range... Maybe I should rely on the AGS, especially since it's pretty much in stock... But the problem is where do I replenish the ammunition." Zumwalt muttered to no one in particular. 

Then suddenly she felt a small tap inside her head and she heard a "Ping" sound over and over again, she knew what it meant, something was entering her radar. 

"Well let's see who our friend here is... Entering stealth mode." Zumwalt muttered. 

Zumwalt's ship increased speed to 15 knots and felt something on the back of her ship. 

"Oh? I still have some MQ-8 Fire Scouts, let's fly them now with APKWS." Without her having to do so, Zumwalt could see through the CCTV camera at the back, her hangar door opening on its own and an MQ-8 Fire Scout drone preparing to take off.

"I'd love to question the logic of it all, but I'm a human ship myself, so...." Zumwalt watched as the drone flew close to several nearby objects, but keeping it's range. 

According to her radar, the approaching objects were ships because the speed of the objects was relatively slow, so she felt safe enough without an escort. Thinking about escort, she sadly remembered the USS Port Royal that sank along with the USS America a few months ago when they launched Operation to liberate Hawaii from the Directorate. 

"If only I hadn't been created with defects, if only I could have been better, perhaps you would have survived until the end of the war... And our government somehow agreed to the status quo ante bellum, how naive to think everything could go back to the way it was before the war." Zumwalt grumbled. 

She then noticed that the objects were about 70KM from her current position and her radar informed her that a dozen or so smaller objects were flying from one of the larger objects, possibly the aircraft carrier which immediately Zumwalt made as her primary target... 

A few tense minutes passed and she widened her eyes as the small objects that had taken off launched missiles at her ship. She immediately performed evasive maneuvers and readied her Metal Storm. 

The Metal Storm, the replacement for the CIWS Phalanx, was the best short-range weapon after the AN/SEQ-3 LaWS laser defense system. Just imagine, this weapon when tested can spit out a lot of bullets very quickly, even according to theories from DARPA or other defense agencies, Metal Storm can spit out 1 million bullets per minute, Metal Storm replaced the Minigun's throne as a weapon with the craziest RPM. 

The LaWS on the right immediately locked onto one of the missiles and destroyed it, then another and another, until only two missiles were left approaching. The two missiles exploded in mid-air after being hit by Metal Storm's glorious firing. 

"Launch multiple ESSMs at the locked target, clear the airspace. Also launch five Tomahawks at the enemy aircraft carrier, make sure its runway is unusable." Zumwalt muttered.

From her VLS, seven ESSM missiles launched and chased the plane that shot Zumwalt with missiles, it didn't take long until Zumwalt finally witnessed five enemy planes shot down, two missiles malfunctioned and failed to hit the target, but it was okay, with that she could at least send a pretty hard warning at the attacking enemy. She also saw through her Drone that the aircraft was blackish in color with some red lines. 

None of the Directorate's aircraft were similar to this image she saw, but Zumwalt decided to think critically later and focus on destroying the enemy. 

As she launched the ESSM missiles, she also launched five Tomahawk anti-ship missiles towards the enemy ships. Once again using the Drone, Zumwalt was able to clearly see the enemy fleet which looked quite unique. 

"Their Aircraft carrier has two runways on the left and right? Oh well, another good target for me." Zumwalt said while grinning quite widely. 

She then used the Fire Scout as a guide for her anti-ship missiles, before the Drone was finally shot down by the enemy CAP. But it didn't matter, the target was marked and the Tomahawk missiles began to enter the attack formation. 

One of the missiles struck first and was immediately tried to be shot down by escort ships such as destroyers and enemy cruisers. Of course the missile was destroyed, but it did its job and left the other four missiles to finish the job.

The first Tomahawk successfully struck the starboard side of the ship, causing a large hole in the enemy fleet. Three other missiles also hit the enemy aircraft carrier, but one entered one of the elevators on the enemy ship's deck, causing an internal explosion that destroyed the starboard runway and rendered it inoperable. 

"Stop the ship, entering bombardment mode." Zumwalt said. 

The 155mm caliber Railgun cannon emerged from one of the domes on the bow of the ship, the ship instantly stopped, but remained stable as Zumwalt only used enough power for her ship to not move much. Zumwalt then felt her body weaken slightly before the first shot came out of the Railgun's muzzle, then the second, third and up to ten shots within a minute. Zumwalt felt her strength returning gradually. 

"Continue firing." Zumwalt saw shot after shot of the Railgun thumping very loudly, she did not know visually whether she hit the enemy or not, but at this moment she only used her instincts and also her advanced radar technology to shoot the enemy. 

"It looks like 80 percent of my shots hit the enemy, meaning about 24 bullets hit the enemy ship... Shall I investigate directly or just use the drone?" Zumwalt thought hard before finally settling on one thing.

"Old man Mike will scold me if I become a loser, set a course towards the enemy fleet, time for a little adventure." Zumwalt declared with a bit of enthusiasm. 

Zumwalt's ship immediately returned to full power and sailed at 30 knots towards the enemy fleet that he had bombarded with Railgun projectiles. 

Without realizing it, she was being observed by a pale, white-haired woman with burning gold eyes

TBC. 

Chapter Text

The distance between Zumwalt and the enemy fleet was now only ten kilometers or so, the journey took about an hour. She saw one of the destroyed ships quite close to her ship, about a kilometer away. 

The ship was black in color and had a quite strange yet unique shape, especially the placement of the cannons and the VLS of the ship. But that was Zumwalt's question, why didn't they fire back at her when she launched Tomahawk and Railgun projectiles at them? They would have at least have a few minutes before being destroyed by her attack. 

Zumwalt observed the ship more closely and realized that the ship did not have a crew, the proof was that none of them were in the water waiting to be rescued, moreover the time had only been running for an hour so it was impossible to be rescued immediately. 

"Well shit, it seems that this is a drone ship, similar to the one we used to sink the Directorate submarine back then." Zumwalt said, remembering her journey to Hawaii from the Gulf of Alaska.

After confirming that the ship was completely inoperable, Zumwalt continued sailing towards one of the ships that was still burning fiercely and had a considerable size. Zumwalt looked at it and said. 

"The people who created this really didn't think about aesthetics or anything, it's like it was made just to be thrown away... But that's what drones are for, cheap and expendable." Muttered Zumwalt softly. 

"But if I look around, this ship looks like a Cruiser but futuristic? I'm pretty sure the bastards from the Directorate don't have anything like this, if they did, it would have been used since the beginning of the war." Zumwalt said in analysis mode. 

After comparing several theories and hypotheses she had come up with so far, she came to one answer. 

"I'm in another world, somehow... Now what, that's the million dollar question." Zumwalt said as she looked at a ship similar to the aircraft carrier that was badly damaged and started to sink. 

"Wait, on second thought... Where are the other airplanes? As I recall there are at least eight enemy planes left!" Zumwalt immediately realized and used her radar. 

But nothing, not a single detected aircraft or foreign object. There was only Zumwalt herself in the area. 

"It's a good thing, if I were attacked now, I don't know how I would have survived, even then I was protected by Port Royal." Zumwalt said as she walked onto the bridge of her ship. 

Once inside, she opened the holographic map on the command desk, where she saw a map of the Pacific and marked Hawaii. "If this is another world, there shouldn't have been anything there when I sailed to Hawaii, right?"

Joint Base Pearl Harbor-Hickam, Oahu, Hawaii. 

KAN-SEN Sector. 

Cleveland, a blonde Ship Girl with a pretty tomboyish look walked in with a smile on her face. She was very happy because she had just been asked out on a date by one of the Marine pilots from Hickam Field.

"Wow Cleveland, you look cheerful today." A blonde, short-haired and red-eyed woman came up to Cleveland. She was dressed like someone from the royal family. 

"Oh, Wales! Uhh yes, one of the Marine airmen from the base next door asked me out for a date tonight, to be honest I'm very nervous." Cleveland said shyly. 

Wales, the short blonde woman, grinned at that and patted Cleveland on the shoulder. "That's a good thing, Cleveland! You already have a plan after this war ends."

"Ugghhh please, don't say things like that, it's bad luck." Cleveland said. 

"Hahaha, sorry if I'm teasing you, I just didn't expect you who is quite a tomboy to get a date, with a marine no less! Have you heard of the Marines' reputation?" Wales asked Cleveland. 

"Not really, Wales, we're in different sectors, remember? I only meet him when I'm shopping off base or in Honolulu... But never mind, shouldn't you be going to Singapore with Repulse?" Cleveland asked Wales to change the subject. 

"Hahaha good one, Cleveland... Her Majesty Elizabeth said to keep watch here, I can leave the security of the Malay Peninsula and Singapore to the mass production ship fleet there, that's what she said... However, Cleveland, this is between the two of us only, okay? It's very likely that Japan will declare war on the United States." Wales said seriously. 

Cleveland was immediately shocked to hear this. "But they just moments ago gave some people a medal of friendship and peace! Even the Enterprise and Lexington got them!"

"Cleveland, my friend, do you really believe in pieces of iron engraved with friendship and peace? I didn't know you were that naive." Wales said with a scowl. 

"I'm just trying to believe the best Wales, there's no harm in doing that, right?" Cleveland replied defensively. 

"There's nothing wrong with that, it's just that the thought of it can make you disappointed if Japan actually declares war on the United States, but know Cleveland, Britain will always be there to help you if needed." Wales' tone, which had been quite high, returned to normal and patted Cleveland on the shoulder. 

"Sorry, Cleveland, I should have respected your opinion, I've just had a lot on my mind lately." Wales said with a bitter smile. 

"Ah, when Mrs. Hood almost died from the Krauts' attack?" Cleveland said sympathetically. 

Wales sighed harshly. "I was there, beside her, but I couldn't do anything but carry her badly injured body while crying, I'm such a coward really huh."

"Not really, you're brave, Wales, it's just that those damn Krauts got lucky." Cleveland said trying to encourage Wales. 

"Haha, thanks for trying to cheer me up, Cleveland, good luck with your date." Wales walked to the Barracks designated for the Royal Navy Shipgirls in Pearl Harbor. 

Cleveland only saw Wales leaving and disappeared after turning the corner, she then looked towards the harbor and saw the USS Enterprise preparing to set sail for a training exercise on the high seas. 

"Let's hope the worst doesn't happen." Cleveland muttered before finally continuing to walk to the barracks designated for the Union Eagle Shipgirls. 

300KM away from Oahu, Hawaii. 

December 7, 1941.

IJN Akagi, the flag ship of the Kido Butai, appeared to be sailing her ship form in relative calm. Akagi has brownish hair, fox ears and wears a kimono with predominantly red and black colors. 

Beside her stands an elderly man dressed as a high-ranking officer of the Imperial Japanese Navy, Admiral Chuichi Nagumo. 

"My Lord Nagumo, what do you think of the final overhaul of this operation?" Akagi asked the high-ranking officer. 

"Quite a mess, we can only be thankful that the ones we brought in were Imperial Navy Soldiers and not those bastards from the Army, they've been too busy in Manchuria, China and Korea anyway. It's time we show the power of the Navy to the people of the Army, don't you agree, Akagi?" Asked Nagumo to his Flagship. 

Akagi laughed melodiously. "Of course, my lord, but how will we supply our soldiers who will occupy Hawaii?"

"We can do so, but with this we cannot carry out the invasion of Indochina or the Dutch East Indies because the ships we will use to carry supplies to Hawaii, pray all American ships are in port when the attack is carried out." Nagumo replied calmly. 

"Right, my Lord Nagumo... Shall we begin?" Akagi said with a smile. 

"Start the first wave attack, send this to the entire Fleet. Tora, Tora, Tora."

USS Zumwalt, 90 KM from Oahu, Hawaii. 

"Hmm these electrical cables need to be tidied up, why didn't the engineers do it back on Mare?" Zumwalt asked a little annoyed, she was having trouble navigating the internal parts of her own ship. 

Then Zumwalt stopped at an intersection, there was a SAFFiR that patrolled for fires, this bipedal robot was one of the things that saved Zumwalt from the cruel fate of destruction. 

(SAFFiR is Shipboard Autonomous Firefighting Robot.) 

Zumwalt let the robot pass, before finally continuing to the armory of her ship, while inside she saw a rack containing assault rifles such as the M27 IAR that Marines often use or a slightly older one, the M4A1. 

After that, she immediately rushed to her ship's Mission Command Center, where she immediately sat in a chair near the command desk. 

"Just 80 kilometers away from Pearl Harbor, not a single transmission I recognize has been detected there... Now is really the right moment to have a satellite." Zumwalt complained. 

When Zumwalt was 30 Kilometers from Pearl Harbor, she saw thick black smoke soaring into the morning sky. Zumwalt widened her eyes at the sight and her heart skipped a beat. 

Pearl Harbor was under attack by the enemy, who? She would find out right now.

TBC

Chapter Text

"Put out the fire immediately!"

"Enemy aircraft everywhere!"

"Siren attack?!"

"No, it's a Japanese fighter!"

Cleveland skimmed the harbor of Pearl Harbor with her rigging out, she focused on shooting down as many enemy fighters as possible, but they seemed endless. 

Not only Cleveland, the majority of the Union Eagle Shipgirls and some from the Royal Navy had successfully taken out their rigging and created enough air defense walls to make it difficult for the Japanese planes to reach their targets. 

"Cleveland! Can I ask you a favor?" Asked Nevada, a beautiful white-haired woman with a mature body. She was the Battleship of the Nevada class and the leader of her class. 

"What is it, Nevada?!" Asked Cleveland while shooting at one of the enemy fighters which was a Dive Bomber. 

"You're the one who's good with cars, please hurry to Schofield Barracks and tell General Maxwell to mobilize the Army!" Nevada said. 

"Why does the Army have to be mobilized?!" Cleveland asked confused. 

"Cleveland, it's obvious, the Japanese declaring war at us, it's obvious they're going to try to take over Hawaii because it's one of our only territory in the Pacific besides the Philippines!" Nevada retorted while dodging a shot from one of the Zeros.

Cleveland was immediately slapped with the reality, she rushed to the harbor and jumped straight up, at the same time her rigging disappeared and returned to the form of a light cruiser. Cleveland assigned her ship to shoot down as many enemies as possible while she was gone. 

Cleveland then ran among the panicked Sailors and Marines, she tried to find an unused Jeep but to no avail. Cleveland didn't give up and kept looking until she finally came across a Jeep with several Marines inside. 

"Hey! Can I get a ride?!" Cleveland asked them. 

"Miss Cleveland! Where are you going?" The voice startled Cleveland, it was Second Lieutenant Walker, the Marine pilot who asked her out earlier. 

"W-Walker?!" Cleveland's face flushed slightly before finally turning serious. 

"Walker! Can you take me to Schofield Barracks? It's an emergency." Cleveland said. 

"Understood, Cleve! Hurry up!" Cleveland went up and sat next to one of the Marines holding two Thompson machine guns, the Marine immediately gave Cleveland one. 

"Miss Cleveland, please use this, we don't want our eardrums to be damaged by the sound of your weapon." Said the young Marine. 

Cleveland laughed at that and accepted the Thompson from the young Marine. "Thank you!"

"Hold on!" Walker, the driver, drove straight to Schofield Barracks, passing several ambulances and Marine armored vehicles that were trying to evacuate the casualties. 

"Enemy plane ahead!" Shouted one of the Marines. 

They all immediately ducked as a machine gun barrage from a Japanese fighter plane made a flyby. Cleveland straightened up as soon as the Zero passed by and opened fire with her Thompson, no significant damage but at least the average bullet fired hit the target. 

A few minutes of the tense ride passed and Cleveland suddenly felt quite a pain in her stomach. The Marine who had given her the Thompson looked worried. "Miss Cleveland are you alright?"

"Did you take a hit, Cleve?" Walker looked back with concern. 

"S-Something hit my hull, looks like a torpedo." Said a pale Cleveland. 

"We've got to hurry, get out of the fucking way!" shouted Walker to one of the ambulances that was driving recklessly. 

Finally, after a tense ride, Cleveland and a group of Marines got out of the Jeep. They rushed into Schofield Barracks which was guarded by several Soldiers. 

"Hold it right there, identification required." Said one of the guards. 

"Oi Asshole! Can't you see those squinty-eyed Japs bombarding us?! You better let us talk to General Maxwell or else there will be consequences! " Walker said in annoyance, probably because he was a little panicked because Cleveland was in constant pain in her abdomen.

Before the soldier could speak, General Maxwell came out to the gate in a hurry. 

"You shipgirl! Is it true that the Japanese are preparing to land on Oahu?!" Maxwell asked. 

"That's right, General, that's why I was assigned to find you by Nevada, the temporary leader of the Shipgirls while the others are still out." Cleveland reported. 

"Where is Kimmel?" Asked General Maxwell. 

"He is busy coordinating the Shipgirls and contacting Washington to report this attack." Cleveland replied. 

"In that case, is the enemy landing site known?" Asked General Maxwell. 

"Most likely from the north, General." Cleveland said. 

"Then I will mobilize the Army immediately, Ship Girl, you come with me." Ordered General Maxwell. 

"O-Okay, sir!" Said a nervous Cleveland, this was the first time she would be commanded by an officer from the Army. 

Lieutenant Walker came up to Cleveland and tapped her on the shoulder. "Cleve, I have to go find a plane that can be flown, you be careful okay?"

"Fool, I should have said that." Cleveland said with embarrassment. 

Walker smiled before finally continuing to leave with the other Marines to an airstrip that had not yet been attacked by the enemy. Cleveland then joined General Maxwell to mobilize the 25th Infantry Division. 

30 Kilometers from Hawaii, Zumwalt flew one of her Fire Scouts, she could carry three of these Drones and one anti-submarine Helicopter. Zumwalt flew the drones as close as she could but kept her distance. 

The sight she saw was truly nightmarish, dozens of burning ships with other buildings also on fire. This was Pearl Harbor, but not from her era, but something straight up from 1940s.

"Bastard... The attack on Pearl Harbor happened again, unforgivable." Zumwalt recalled angrily the time Pearl Harbor was attacked by Directorate forces. 

She wasn't there in person as she was retired by the Navy, but hearing the stories of Captain Jamie and Officer Horatio as well as the video footage of the event, made her blood boil. Zumwalt then continued to sail her ship to get closer to Pearl Harbor. 

As she approached, several Dive Bomber and Torpedo Bomber aircraft spotted her and immediately entered attack positions. Without much thought, Zumwalt immediately shot down all approaching aircraft with her Metal Storm bursts. 

"The left side of the ship is running low on ammunition, but that's okay, I still have some manually fired machine guns." Zumwalt muttered while holding her right side of head. 

Zumwalt sensed through her radar that there was a fleet that looked like if Zumwalt was willing to bet, they were the Kido Butai, the Imperial Japanese Aircraft Carrier fleet. 

She again launched Tomahawk anti-ship missiles into the air, each Carrier she identified getting three Tomahawks. Not stopping there, Zumwalt opened her AGS cannon on the bow dome of her ship. 

The 155mm Railgun immediately roared loudly, launching more than 60 Kinetic projectiles and each Aircraft Carrier got 10.

A few minutes passed and Zumwalt had no idea what was happening, there was no confirmation as usual when using satellites or ATHENA, again what a pain. Zumwalt then ordered her Drone to approach the area where she was targeting the Kido Butai. 

When the drones arrived, Zumwalt smiled with satisfaction at the sight of the six burnt out and tilted enemy Carriers, she had succeeded in making the enemy ships unable to fight again, so their planes should have nowhere to go back home.

"Hnm? Behind their aircraft carrier is a landing ship? So that's it, it seems I'm in some kind of Alternate World, because as I recall Japan had no intention of occupying Hawaii at all, this attack was just to cut off the United States Navy's strength in the Pacific... Heh, more targets for me." The AGS cannon continued to roar and the time for the kinetic projectile to hit the target was about 5-8 seconds. 

Zumwalt saw one by one the Landing Ships explode after being hit by the kinetic projectiles that her AGS Cannon fired. She saw several smaller Destroyers trying to save the Crew or Soldiers in the water, but Zumwalt did not let them. 

Zumwalt now rained down on the Destroyers which of course the kinetic projectiles easily destroyed them, if the Aircraft Carriers and Landing Ships could be destroyed, let alone the relatively small Destroyers that did not have great armor. 

Onboard IJN Akagi bridge. 

Akagi grimaced in pain as Admiral Nagumo tightly tied a bandage around her abdomen, the wound she received from the surprise attack from the Americans was truly horrific. There was no warning or visual sighting of what attacked them. 

Akagi asked while enduring the pain. "W-What attacked us just now, Admiral?"

"A monster... Yamamoto was really too optimistic going into this attack to not think about the strength of the United States... We just walked into the jaws of Death itself." Nagumo said regretfully. 

"My lord, forgive Akagi if Akagi was unable to carry out the task properly." Akagi said with tears in her eyes, the pain she had endured and the shame was really eating away at her soul. 

"Don't be, Akagi, we never had a chance against the Americans, they were too strong, though I find it hard to admit, but that's a fact we have to live with from now on." Nagumo said with a wry smile on his old face. 

"Are we going to surrender to the enemy we just declared war on? I haven't even had a chance to use the power Siren gave me." Akagi said frowning in pain. 

"No, just let that power be our secret for now, and Akagi... I don't want you to bear the burden of using that power alone, you can depend on this old man." Nagumo said as he took off his officer's hat and placed it on Akagi's head.

"Thank you, my lord." Akagi said closing her eyes and fainting. 

Nagumo who saw that then stood up and took the communication device. "This is Admiral Chuichi Nagumo, I order the surviving ships to evacuate all crew and shipgirls who were attacked by the enemy, we are retreating."

After that Nagumo put the communication device on the table and sat on the Captain's chair, looking at Akagi who collapsed on one of the chairs on the bridge. 

All the planes flown by the Six Aircraft Carrier Ship Girls began to retreat and disappeared into hundreds of small blue cubes that slowly disappeared, none of the planes had human crew. The Eagle Union and Royal Navy Shipgirls who saw this immediately divided their tasks. 

There was one team assigned to stand guard at Pearl Harbor, fearing a follow-up attack from the enemy and another team sent to pursue the enemy, if possible also rendezvousing with the nearby Enterprise alongside her Small Task Force. 

All of this was noticed by Drone Zumwalt who had returned from observing the Japanese Fleet that he had ravaged, she was currently in quite a dilemma... Should she go there and make contact with them or just hide? 

If she did the second option, she wouldn't know WHAT exactly she was, especially since her drone saw some women skating on the water with some warship parts on their bodies, just like a Japanese Anime from her home world. 

"Maybe Ships that become humans are normal in this world... I should try, fortune favors the brave." Zumwalt then increased the ship's speed again and sailed towards Pearl Harbor. 

At Pearl Harbo, Oahu, Hawaii. 

Prince of Wales, the Flag Ship of the Royal Navy in the Pacific was currently busy checking what damage there was on her ship, some machine gun and cannon fire from enemy fighters, so it wasn't too bad. But what made her quite upset was that the Japanese fighter planes had hit her radar and made it necessary to repair it, again. 

"I'll never forgive the Japanese!" A frustrated Wales shouted. 

As Wales was about to go back to trying to 'fix' her radar, suddenly another Royal Navy Shipgirl arrived, she was Repulse. 

"Mrs. Wales! An unidentified ship is heading towards Oahu with a white flag!" Reported the Battlecruiser with brown hair. 

"Unknown ship? What's going on?" Asked Wales in confused tone. 

Wales and Repulse then looked from the direction of the harbor entrance, a fairly large ship appeared, probably 180 meters and of the Heavy Cruiser type, but Wales could not see any weaponry from the ship. 

"Huh strange, why is that ship using the hull design of a Tumblehome?" Wales asked in confusion.

TBC. 

Chapter Text

Zumwalt slowly got off her ship with the ladder she had lowered from her ship. She looked around and there were at least eight women with warship parts on their bodies and a company of Marines. 

Zumwalt raised her hand and said. "I come in peace."

"And what makes us believe your word?" Zumwalt saw a womab with short blonde hair with red eyes and dressed like a noble family, asking her. 

"Nothing, perhaps you can also see that my ship does not have any weapons, once again I say, I come in peace." Zumwalt said firmly. 

Wales seeing Zumwalt who didn't have any weapons in her hands decided to believe a little. "Alright, state your name and country of origin."

"USS Zumwalt DDG-1000, my home country is the United States. I'm one of you, man." Zumwalt said trying a relatively more casual approach. 

"Huh? When did our country have a ship design like that?" Asked one of the Marines in confusion. 

"Probably some kind of secret project."

Nevada, the Eagle Union's temporary lead shipgirl, walked forward. "You are an Eagle Union girl? How is that possible, state the origin of your shipyard."

"Uhhh, At Bath Iron Works." Zumwalt said nervously. 

"Bath Iron Works? What about your homeport?" Asked Nevada, again. 

"It used to be in Pascagoula, Mississippi, but now my Homeport is the Mare Island Shipyard." Zumwalt replied. 

"Hey, that's my birthplace! I never saw you there!" Said one of the gray-haired women in quite questionable attire as Navy personnel. 

"Is that right, San Francisco?" Nevada turned to the gray-haired one who turned out to be the USS San Francisco. 

"Yes! That place is for construction of Destroyers and not Heavy Cruisers like you." Replying to San Francisco, she looked excited rather than angry or suspicious.

"Tell you what... When was you are launched?" Asked Nevada. 

Zumwalt sighed, it was time to be honest. "October 28, 2013, that's my launch year."

Everyone who heard the conversation seemed to widen their eyes, Wales immediately exclaimed. "Wait, you're claiming to be from 72 years in the future?! Don't be ridiculous!"

"Uhhh technically, 94 years from the future, the year before I came here was around 2035." Zumwalt replied while scratching the back of her head.

"Hey Hey! Tell me, is our war with the Sirens over?" Asked one of the Shipgirls. 

"She's right! Did we succeed in beating those damn aliens into the deep ocean?!"

Nevada raised her right hand in code for silence. "Miss Zumwalt, I'm afraid I'll have to detain you for a while."

"Yes I knew this would happen, can I be confined to my ship?" Zumwalt asked nicely. 

"Uhh yes, San Francisco, you are in charge of this Miss from the future, make sure she doesn't do anything strange." Nevada ordered. 

"Yes, boss!" San Francisco happily walked in front of Zumwalt and extended her hand. 

"Greetings fellow Bath Iron Works!" San Francisco said with a grin. 

"Ahh... Greetings."

Zumwalt then walked back onto her ship followed by San Francisco from behind. Wales just watched it all happen with a look of bewilderment. 

"Are you really going to leave her alone?" Wales asked. 

"What else should I do, Wales? She already said she came with no evil intentions and claimed to be from the future... I honestly don't believe her, but I've decided to give her the benefit of the doubt." Nevada said while crossing her arms. 

"Hopefully this doesn't come back to bite us in the ass." Wales said with a long sigh. 

"Amen, sister, amen."

"So, if you're a Cruiser, where are your cannons?" Asked San Francisco who was looking at the two domes on the bow of her ship. 

"They're hidden inside those domes, you'll see if we get attacked again." Zumwalt said quickly. 

"Hmm then, what about the question from San Diego earlier, is our war with Siren over?" Asked San Francisco curiously. 

Zumwalt honestly didn't know what this 'Siren' they were talking about meant. "I don't know what the war with Siren means, are you guys at war with the mermaids in this world or something?"

"Hahaha when you said it like that, i guess we are fighting against Mermaid... Hmm you said this 'world' instead of 'past', you're saying that you came from some kind of alternate future?" San Francisco said stating her hypothesis. 

"More or less so, in my world there is no war against Sirens, there are only World Wars and the most recent one is the War between America, China and Russia." Zumwalt said remembering the war which was really the moment when America was humiliated in the eyes of the world. 

"Russia and China? How can we go to war with those two? Russia I understand because of our ideological differences, but for now it seems we can tolerate them, but China, what is it about China that makes them declare war on us? We helped them in the war against Japan, right?!" San Francisco said.

"There are many reasons why they are hostile to us, perhaps because we did not fully support the Kuomintang after the war against the Axis, so the Communists won the civil war and made China a Communist country." Zumwalt said lazily.

"Huh I don't know the details, just the outline.... Did you have a chance to meet with Siren before coming here?" Asked San Francisco curiously. 

"Ah, what do you mean the black ship that has no crew?" Zumwalt saw San Francisco nodding her head. 

"Then yes, I managed to sink their small fleet with one aircraft carrier as the center. But I haven't seen their surface fleet in full action, only the aircraft, are they dangerous?" Zumwalt asked curiously. 

"Hmm Hmm~ Those are their mass production ships and our human manned ships can still put up quite a fight, but if it's their Elites that are intervening, then we KAN-SEN or Shipgirls will step in to help deal with them." San Francisco said proudly. 

"Have you ever fought against them?" Zumwalt asked. 

"A few times, but more often against their mass production ships." San Francisco replied. 

"I see, how long have the Aliens been here?" Zumwalt asked again. 

"More or less like 10 years, maybe?" San Francisco said doubtfully.

"That long? Why hasn't Humanity beaten them back yet?" Zumwalt asked confused. 

"Hmm Hmm~, actually these Sirens don't have a definite location or headquarters, at most it's only their Front Operations Headquarters or research locations on remote islands or other places, most of their headquarters are found in the Arctic or near the Soviets anyway." San Francisco said recalling the report she read. 

"So that's it, so they came using what?" Zumwalt asked again. 

"They use portals to appear and attack, that's why when the Sirens attacked, we had trouble guessing the location of their appearance because of that technology, but I heard that America and Great Britain made some kind of prototype Radar that can detect the appearance of Siren Portals." San Francisco replied lightly. 

"... Miss San Francisco, you do realize that you just gave a prisoner who could be your enemy very valuable information, right?" Said Zumwalt who couldn't believe how easily information came out of San Francisco's mouth. 

"Hmm? Why not, Mrs. Zumwalt, are you an enemy of mankind?" Asked San Francisco, her voice was now a little different which made Zumwalt a little stunned, this woman in front of her could be serious too. 

"Of course not, humans created me, why should I be hostile to them? Even though they left me to rust in the Mare Shipyard in California, I never wanted to hate them." Zumwalt said sincerely. 

San Francisco then sat on the floor of Zumwalt's ship deck and patted the floor next to her, telling Zumwalt to come along too. The voluptuous blonde woman obeyed San Francisco and sat next to her. 

"Care to tell me more?" San Francisco asked softly. 

"...I can't blame the Navy for retiring me earlier than I should have, my sisters were also canceled, I don't know what happened to their hulls... San Francisco, when I was planned to be built by the Navy, I was envisioned to be the HMS Dreadnought of the 21st Century." Zumwalt said while looking up at the sky. 

"Dreadnought? So, some kind of new breakthrough ship that no one has ever seen before?" Asked San Francisco. 

"That's right, But even so, there was no enemy that could defeat the US at that time and the wars that Uncle Sam faced during the period before the Dhahran Tragedy were mostly wars against terrorists, so I was a little neglected. Back then, my class was planned to have 32 ships to fill the US Fleet, but that number was cut down to 24, then to 7 and until finally only I was left, with my sister's two hulls that I don't know what happened to..." Zumwalt said melancholically. 

"Huh, I have a lot of questions, first of all, what is the Dhahran Tragedy?" Asked San Francisco curiously. 

"In short, there were some crazy people who thought it was a funny thing to put a Nuclear Bomb into the City where the Headquarters of the World's largest oil Company, you know what happened next? The price of oil shot up, the chaos in the Middle East intensified and the Saudi royal family was dethroned from their position, that's how I remember it." Zumwalt said. 

"Then what does that have to do with America or your early retirement?" Asked San Francisco who still didn't understand. 

"So this is, when it all happened, the world economy was automatically in a state of chaos, as well as America, although they were not completely dependent on oil from Arabia, but the incident was a severe blow to the world economy and the world entered a truly terrible stage of decomposition." Zumwalt answered patiently. 

"So with the economy in ruins..."

"Then the Military budget had to be cut by the Government. The American Navy no longer dominates the seas, as the men in the ranks are more worried about their ships rusting away, the Army which is known as the Giant is now only in charge of keeping the shops from being looted." Zumwalt replied grimly. 

"What a mess, and that's not to mention the mess from the War you're referring to, is it?" San Francisco gave Zumwalt a sympathetic look. 

"That's right, the War changed everything for America." Zumwalt said, then she gasped and looked to the north. 

"Zumwalt, what's wrong?" Asked San Francisco in confusion. 

"Trouble." Zumwalt replied grimly.

From the north, twenty black and red-striped troop landing ships sailed in, escorted by a fleet of perhaps 50 ships. 

In the center of the invasion fleet formation, there was one Kongo-class battleship, IJN Kirishima. On board, there were several beautiful women in discussion and a middle-aged man wearing an admiral's outfit. 

"Admiral Nagumo, is it wise to carry out the third wave attack without the assistance of our Aircraft Carrier?" Asked a woman with short hair, dressed like a ninja and with horns. She was Kirishima, the human form of the Battleship they all boarded. 

"I agree with my sister, my lord, their current level of vigilance must be high, especially since reports from the Submarines indicate that several enemy KAN-SENs have sailed to make sure there are no further attacks." Said another beautiful woman, this time with long brown hair, she was Hiei. 

"I understand the anxiety of all of you, I myself am still horrified by the deadly weapons from the United States, but we have a dark horse in the form of them." Nagumo pointed behind him where Siren's mass production ships were. 

"My lord, I never wanted to against your words, but why should we trust them so much? We have been at war with them for so long, that war has also taken a lot away from all of us." Kirishima said with a frown. 

"I understand, Kirishima, but this must be done, we must make sure the Americans cannot enter the Pacific theater, at least until all our troop positions in Southeast Asia have been reinforced and the War in China has been won." Nagumo said firmly. 

"By then, we have gone too deep down the rabbit hole, my lord, you know yourself how powerful the US is." Hiei said with a frown as well, she was one of the KAN-SEN who was quite vocal in this attack on Pearl Harbor. 

She felt that going to war with fellow humans was a futile act and a waste of human resources, this war was carried out because the Empire was too greedy for power, so much so that any means were used to obtain it. Not only Hiei was against this, quite a lot of KAN-SEN were against this, but they all held low ranks on average, so they could not oppose. 

"You seem not to like to use the Siren's power, if you don't want to, then say so beforehand." Commented another silver-haired beauty with seductive golden eyes. 

"Miss Prinz Eugen, with all due respect, you are just a supervisor here as well as a representative of the Third Reich, this is a Japanese military operation, not German, so please don't throw oil on the fire." Nagumo said firmly.

"Heheh, whatever, I just want to say, with Siren's power we managed to dominate the Atlantic ocean." Said Prinz Eugen with a smug smile. 

"Didn't you almost lose your Flagship a few months ago against the Royal Navy Fleet? Your surface fleet would have been a joke without the Siren or the 'German super technology' that you always brag about in your propaganda." Kirishima retorted sharply.

"You!" Eugen gave Kirishima a sharp look for bringing up the embarrassing incident a few months ago, where Bismarck was almost killed by a Royal Navy Fleet that somehow managed to forcefully break through all the Siren Fleets protecting Bismarck. 

As of now, Bismarck is still in a coma and Ironblood has a leadership vacancy, for the time being the Ironblood Division will be led by Admiral Hipper. 

"Enough, Kirishima, that's not the attitude we should show to our 'ally', Eugen-Dono, please forgive my girl's behavior." Nagumo bowed his head slightly. 

Prinz Eugen just snorted and turned her head away. "Yes, if that's the case, then it's fine... After all, my purpose here is to witness the upgraded Siren Ground Forces on the battlefield, after many Japanese Navy soldiers died a few hours ago and your 1st Air Fleet almost died too after being hit by a mysterious attack... Honestly, I also want to know about that weapon, what your informant in Pearl Harbor say?" After speaking quite long, Prinz Eugen asked. 

"For now we are still getting insufficient information, but according to her information, after all our Aircraft Carriers were disabled by a mysterious attack, a ship with a strange design entered the harbor and anchored there, if according to her testimony too, the ship was flying the flag of the United States." Nagumo replied. 

Hiei without orders then took a map of Oahu Hawaii and spread it out on the operating table. Several invasion sites were marked and the targets they should attack. 

"Alright, right off the bat, since the first and second airstrikes have failed to destroy their fuel storage as well as ship repair facilities, we can utilize the ground invasion force we got from Siren to do the dirty work, Eugen-Dono, you're sure they can be controlled, right?" Nagumo asked Prinz Eugen. 

"Of course, we Ironbloods have confirmed it."

"Good then, we will attack right here, supposedly their troops have not fully mobilized and have not made fortifications, Eugen-Dono, I ask you to bomb this point and this point." Nagumo then pointed to several black dots that Hiei had marked earlier... 

"Hmm, easy business." Prinz Eugen smiled playfully. 

Prinz Eugen picked up a strange device similar to a television but smaller, approximately 9 inches and the screen could be interacted with. Prinz Eugen pressed the screen of the small television before finally looking outside, followed by Nagumo, Hiei and Kirishima... 

20 Siren's Aircraft Carriers began to launch their fighter jets carrying various weapons, some carrying anti-ship, air-to-ground and some specialized for CAP. The number of these Fighter Jets is approximately 190 units.

The Landing Ships advanced at full speed escorted by dozens of Destroyers and Cruisers, the Battleships and Aircraft Carriers kept their distance to avoid direct confrontation with the far more numerous enemy KAN-SEN. 

"Let the war begin." Prinz Eugen announced as she smiled quite broadly, her golden eyes shining slightly as she saw the many blue dots that signaled the Siren fighter jets heading towards Oahu Hawaii.

TBC. 

Chapter Text

"Where's the machine gun ammo?!"

"Watch out for grenades!"

"Casualties are piling up, where's the medics?!"

USS San Diego, a Shipgirl of the United States Navy walked past several barricades set up by the 25th Infantry Division. She was assigned as a liaison officer between the Navy and the Army. 

She saw dozens of black-armored soldiers storming their barricades with several tank-like vehicles, but the tanks seemed to float and did not touch the ground. 

Some of the Soldiers used automatic rifles in the form of M1918 BARs and provided cover fire, so that some of the wounded soldiers could be brought to the rear. San Diego stopped at one of the 25th Soldiers and asked. 

"Soldiers, where are your superiors?" San Diego asked. 

"Lieutenant is at the front of the barricade!"

"Thank you soldier, Godspeed!" San Diego then ran while lowering her body, careful not to get hit by the Siren Infantry. 

Siren's Infantry Unit was one of the newest editions that humanity had faced in recent years. First encountered by the Red Army near the Kamchatka region, this black-armored Infantry Unit became a terrifying scourge to all human Infantry. The armor they wore was strong enough to withstand many bullets before breaking down completely and they used a Plasma Rifle that could tire out armored units. 

Moreover, Siren's Infantry Unit is supported by their Tank codenamed "Scorpion" because it has a form similar to a scorpion. Their 90mm Plasma Cannon can penetrate almost any material. 

San Diego finally arrived at the location of the Lieutenant in charge of this defense line, there were several Soldiers of the 25th laying down while firing everything they had at the Siren's Infantry. Several Soldiers of the 25th carried a black tube on their shoulders, before finally a rocket from each tube carried by the soldiers launched and hit the target. 

However, the armor of Siren's Scorpion Tank proved to be too strong and retaliated with a barrage of plasma machine gun fire that took out several Soldiers of the 25th in a gruesome manner. 

"Lieutenant! This is the USS San Diego, how can I help you?" San Diego shouted. 

Several Soldiers of the 25th looked towards San Diego before one of them finally answered. "Lieutenant is dead! That's all remaining of him!"

San Diego looked in the direction the Soldier was pointing and there was a pair of boots with the leg cut off at the calf, the scar from the leg was cauterize. 

"That's... Who is the highest rank here?" San Diego asked. 

"Uhmm... Madam, you." Said the soldier hesitantly.

".... Soldier, what is your rank?" San Diego asked grimly. 

"Private First Class, ma'am." The Private replied. 

"Private, gather all the soldiers here and prepare to retreat, you lead them to retreat. I need at least five soldiers to stay with me here to hold them while you retreat, can you do that?" Asked San Diego. 

"I will, ma'am, but you should come with us, if compared to the rest of us, we are expendable, you are not." Said the Private quietly. 

The few Soldiers of the 25th who heard that nodded their heads. They had seen how big a role shipgirls played in this war against aliens, 1000 soldiers could be thrown away if it was to save one shipgirl, that was just basic math at its core. 

"For me, no.... To us, Shipgirls, you are just as important as our role. To me personally none of you are worth sacrificing, Private, please get rid of that kind of thinking, no Shipgirl wants to sacrifice a human life if that life can be saved, remember that." San Diego knew that she had always been cheerful and a laughing stock for other men and shipgirls, but she could be serious if the situation was urgent. 

"Thank you, ma'am... Everyone, retreat slowly! Prioritize the wounded to retreat!" The Private said. 

They began to retreat, leaving San Diego and the five volunteer soldiers of the 25th to distract the Siren Invasion Force. 

San Diego summoned her rigging, the 25th soldiers looked at San Diego in amazement, this was the first time the soldiers had seen a shipgirl call their rigging. San Diego took aim at one of the Scorpion Tanks and she immediately destroyed it with her 127mm main cannon.

The Scorpion Tank withstood the first three shots, but was destroyed by the fourth and the followed up attack. After the first target was destroyed, San Diego continued to target other tanks. Five soldiers from the 25th immediately gave San Diego covering fire to keep Siren's Infantry from targeting her. 

"Mrs. San Diego, the dropships are approaching!" Reported one of the soldiers. 

Sure enough, 5 Siren's Dropships arrived and each of them carried one Tank and 80 Siren's Infantry. Siren's Dropship has a fairly simple design, having a rectangular shape of about 15 meters long and 5 meters wide. It has four engines mounted on the front and back of the Dropship left and right of the engine placement. 

San Diego used her main cannon and took down one of the Dropships that was in the process of landing a Scorpion Tank. The other Dropships retaliated with a terrifying spray of Plasma Machine Guns. 

"We're pinned down here!"

"Mrs. San Diego! This seems like a good time to retreat!" Said one of the soldiers.

San Diego had a better look at the situation, Siren's infantry had landed more and more, it seemed that her friends had failed to deter their invasion force. 

"Retreat slowly, don't let them take the opportunity to advance!" San Diego's main cannon once again roared and destroyed one of the tanks. San Diego's Anti-Air Weapons barked into the sky, dropping two Dropships and a Siren Fighter that was black in color and had forward-swept wing.

Just as San Diego was about to contact Nevada for artillery support, someone suddenly contacted San Diego on her radio. 

"Am I speaking to the USS San Diego?!" The melodic, mature voice was familiar to San Diego. 

"You are... Ah! Miss Zumwalt! Why all of a sudden? I'm a little busy right now." Said San Diego, who finally remembered who the voice belonged to.

"I'm sorry, I just contacted Mrs. Nevada and I'm requesting her cooperation... In short, all the 'shipgirls' on the Base will focus on attacking their Fleet, I will provide ground support fire." Zumwalt replied at length. 

"I'm glad to hear that, but i thought you don't have any weapons?" Said San Diego who remembered the appearance of Zumwalt's ship. 

"Appearances can be deceiving, Lil Sandy, San Francisco is currently heading to your place as reinforcements, hang on and give me the coordinates of the firing location." Zumwalt said. 

"Understood! Can you please hit their troops near that row of shops? About 900 meters in front of me." Said San Diego who estimated the distance. 

"Target received. Target marked. This will be a danger close attack... Sending... Brace for impact!" 

A few seconds passed, San Diego did hear in the distance the faint sound of cannon fire. Not long after, San Diego seemed to hear the rumbling sound of a train speeding over her head and whatever it was that Mrs. Zumwalt was firing? It's hit accurately. Not only that, the shockwave from the explosion knocked out several soldiers from the 25th who were with San Diego. Meanwhile, San Diego herself felt her body float for a moment before being blown away. 

"What the hell was that?!"

"For God's sake!"

"It felt like a train fell from the sky."

"So this is Mrs. Zumwalt's power." San Diego said in astonishment. 

The Siren Infantrymen who were in the area near the explosive attack, looked bewildered and disoriented. Before finally several Snipers that the 25th had placed on top of the buildings attacked them, managing to take down at least 7 Infantry before the others finally came to their senses and went back into hiding in the form of their former tank carcasses or the ruins of buildings.

"The second wave is coming, prepare for impact!" Zumwalt shouted in San Diego's ear. 

"Oh shoot! Everyone, on the ground, now!" San Diego immediately jumped up and got down on the ground, as did the few 25th soldiers with her. 

Exactly 5 seconds after the warning, the same attack as before hit the Siren's Infantry hideout but this time San Diego felt that the attack was much heavier. 

"Friendlies coming from your six." Zumwalt said over the radio. 

San Diego, who had managed to get rid of the dizziness in her head, looked back and there were several armored vehicles in the form of M3 Halftracks along with dozens of Infantry from the 25th Division coming and replenishing the barricade. San Francisco, who was riding in one of the Halftracks, went straight to San Diego and checked her body. 

"Sandy, are you okay?" San Francisco asked with concern. 

"Yes... It's just that the impact of Mrs. Zumwalt's attack really exceeded my expectations." San Diego said with a crisp laugh. 

"Haha! Isn't that right? Even I was surprised when Madame Zumwalt's cannon roared and her projectiles moved through the air, like a moving train." San Francisco laughed. 

After they finished talking and San Francisco made sure San Diego was unharmed, they were approached by a Sergeant Major from the 25th. 

"Miss Francisco, Miss Sandy, we have orders to support you." Said the Sergeant Major firmly. 

"Of course Sergeant, are we going to start the offensive now?" Asked Francisco who took over the reins, much to San Diego's relief.

"Yes, Miss Francisco. The Marine elements have already gathered and are attacking from the North with the remaining air support from the Air Base, half of the 25th is tasked with attacking the enemy invasion units to the south, the other half of us are tasked with taking this city back." Reported the Sergeant Major. 

"Understood, is your strike force ready?" Asked Sandy. 

"Our Strike Force is waiting for an opening to attack, currently the Colonel has not dared to make a frontal attack because of the enemy armored units." Said the Sergeant Major with a frown. 

"Understandable, compared to them, our Armored Units are just little ants. Sergeant Major, I will request a support attack from Mrs. Zumwalt, then we will take care of their tanks, can you use that opportunity to take out the Siren Infantry over there." Francisco also pointed towards the row of buildings that were devastated by the previous attack by Zumwalt. 

"I understand. Boys! Get ready for battle, do you want to lose to the Marines?!"

"No, sir!" Shouted the soldier from the 25th. 

"Looks like I've gone deaf... Because I only hear bunch of pussies talking and not men!" 

This time the soldiers answered more vigorously and loudly. "No, sir!"

"Good! Ladies, you now have soldiers who are willing to commit suicide bombings if told to." Said the Sergeant Major with a grin. 

"Ahahaha... Well, Mrs. Zumwalt, can you hear me?" Asked Francisco over the radio. 

"Loud and clear, Francis." Zumwalt replied. 

"I request a saturation attack then focus fire on the Plaza, got some intel that the place is their temporary command center." Francisco said over the radio.

"Solid Copy, watch out for impact." Zumwalt replied briefly. 

Francisco and Sandy then got ready along with the soldiers of the 25th led by the Sergeant Major. They then heard a rumble from the sky like a train, moments later there were many explosions at the position of the enemy defense line and the location of their possible temporary command base. 

The Halftracks advanced accompanied by the soldiers on the left and right sides of the Halftracks. Sandy was on the frontmost Halftrack while Francisco was in the center. 

Sandy spotted several enemy tanks and immediately destroyed them with her main cannon, the Halftrack's machine guns opened fire towards the ruins, not only the Halftrack, Sandy's anti-air weapons showered the Siren Infantry's hiding positions with hot lead. 

"Squad 1, spread out and push them from the right! Squad 2, support them! Watch out for their Plasma attacks!" The Sergeant Major deftly gave orders to his men. 

The 25th Squad and Two shipgirls managed to take over the command base while the Sirens secured tons of intel and information on their extraterrestrial enemies. The Zumwalt's deadly long-range Naval artillery really helped the operation. 

Not only did it help Sandy and Francisco secure the site, it also provided fire support to American ground units as well as Marine elements in their mission to wipe out any Siren forces that landed. This was one of the most glorious victories for Mankind, especially the United States. 

They had always focused on the Navy, until when the Siren ground units appeared and caused chaos on the West coast of America, the Army had difficulty in blocking the Siren ground invasion. 

It took more than 2 full months of fighting to completely wipe out the Siren ground forces because the American Army was relatively lagging behind as the defense budget was all devoted to the Navy and Coast Guard. But now since the battle on Oahu, they had confidence of victory against the Sirens. Morale was really high.

"Well, that was pretty anticlimactic." Commented Francisco, who was sitting in one of the wooden boxes where the goods were stored. 

"Yeah, I thought they'd put up a bigger fight." Sandy nodded her head and looked up at the sky where there were several fighter planes with the logo of the Naval Air Corps. 

"Maybe because their support fleet was defeated by our friends?" Francisco said offering her idea. 

"Yes, it's possible." Sandy chuckled. 

A Jeep arrived and the driver was Cleveland. "Hey Francis and Sandy, come on up, you girls being waited at the base!"

"Ah, okay!" Sandy hurried up, while Francisco looked at the Sergeant Major of the 25th with her usual smile. 

"You guys fought very well, enjoy this victory for you, okay?" Francisco then climbed in and the Jeep drove straight back to the shipgirl base. 

The Sergeant Major smiled along with his other men as they waved their hands. The Sergeant Major then widened his eyes. "Oh shit, I forgot to introduce myself! Oh well, maybe next time."

Joint base Pearl Harbor-Hickam, Oahu, Hawaii. 

Sector KAN-SEN. 

Zumwalt let out a long sigh and took off the VIZ goggles she was using, thanks to that gadget she was able to land accurate shots by utilizing her last Drone as a scout. Zumwalt fixed her messy blonde hair a little and then she exited the bridge. 

On the deck of her ship were several Marines standing guard with their rifles, they had been assigned by Nevada to guard Zumwalt who was focused on supporting their comrades on the front line from the Siren's surprise attack, but that didn't seem to be the case. 

"Everyone, Good job." Zumwalt said with a smile. 

A Corporal of the squad leader guarding Zumwalt then spoke in a happy tone. "We love working for you, ma'am, the shots you took today saved so many of our brothers and sisters on the front lines, this is the least we can do to thank you."

All the Marines under the Corporal nodded their heads, they were still upset at not being able to help their brothers in North Hawaii, but at least they could help Zumwalt by creating a security perimeter. 

Zumwalt kept smiling. "Hahaha alright then... But it looks like we should still get back to work."

They all then followed the direction Zumwalt was looking and realized that several storage warehouses were still on fire, most of them were ammunition warehouses and this was still continuing from this morning. 

"Oh shit... I forgot that there was a fire going on." Said the Corporal.

"Yeah, so am I, let's help them put out the fire and then have dinner, shall we?" Zumwalt smiled at the sight of the Marines who immediately disembarked from the hull of her ship and helped the dockworkers and other sailors to put out the fire. 

Zumwalt also helped by mobilizing a dozen SAFFIR units on her ship to help extinguish fires more safely, not only SAFFIR had a human shape, but there was also a Spider-shaped one to make it easier to maneuver in various terrains. 

Zumwalt watched from a distance with satisfaction and then looked around. Everything looks very old, so this is really another world. Zumwalt thought. 

Then she saw Nevada coming towards her with a middle-aged man in a cream-colored Naval Officer's outfit. He was Admiral Husband E. Kimmel, Commander-in-chief of the Pacific Fleet. For now. 

"Nevada, Sir." Zumwalt immediately saluted Nevada and Kimmel. 

They both saluted Zumwalt back. Then Kimmel said. "Mrs. Zumwalt, I've heard just about everything Nevada has to say and frankly, I'm pleased and proud of you, even though you're from America on the other side of the world, but yet, you still willing to be Uncle Sam in these testing times."

"Of course, Admiral, there is no way I would let Hawaii fall into enemy hands, not again, not if I can help it." Zumwalt replied firmly. 

"And you're doing a very good damn job of it, I'm sorry if Nevada had to detain you, but I hope you understand why we're doing it." Kimmel said. 

"Of course, Admiral, I understand, I would do that too for the safety of others." Zumwalt smiled at Nevada who nodded her head. 

"If I had the authority, Mrs. Zumwalt, I would give you a medal right away, but we are in a very chaotic time right now and communication with the mainland is still down, please help us out for the time being, Mrs. Zumwalt." Kimmel pleaded. 

"Yes, Admiral, I will continue to help Uncle Sam even in another world." Zumwalt said firmly. 

Zumwalt and Kimmel then shook hands, this was captured by a photographer present from a nearby journalist agency who wanted to capture moments at Pearl Harbor for future generations.

900 kilometers north of Hawaii. 

A gigantic 333-meter-long ship drifts in the vast ocean without power, the United States flag flying proudly on its mast. On its deck were many black aircraft, one of the most advanced and deadly aircraft in the modern world but with many complications, the F-35. 

On her island was the number CVN-77 and she thirsted for Some sweet, sweet revenge.

TBC. 

Chapter Text

Joint Base Hickam-Pearl Harbor, Oahu, Hawaii. 

KAN-SEN Sector. 

Two young girls with a different appearance from the others appeared to be standing in the harbor and looked at Zumwalt with a curious gaze. One of them who had pink hair and held a spear said. "She's bigger than they say!"

"Hmhm... Big..." The girl with rabbit ears and a sleepy look joined in. 

"What do you think her hull is made of?" Asked the pink haired one. 

"I don't know... Steel, maybe?" Replied the white-haired bunny-eared sleepily and slightly sarcastic. 

"Ehehe." The pink hair just laughed in embarrassment at her silly question. 

"Hey young girls over there! What are you doing here?" The two of them then looked back, where the melodious voice was coming from. 

They saw a beautiful woman with shoulder-length short blonde hair, wearing a dark green jacket and an office suit. She really looks like a goddess. Thought the pink haired one who was dumbfounded by the beauty of the blonde woman, while her friend seemed to be falling asleep in a few moments. 

"I- We, uhhh... We were just curious about the ship that people were talking about." The pink haired one replied frantically. 

"Hmm... You two have a different appearance than the others, you're shipgirls?" Asked the blonde woman. 

"Yes! I'm HMS Javelin of the Royal Navy's J-class Destroyer!" said the pink haired Javelin cheerfully. 

Meanwhile, Javelin's friend was really close to falling asleep. The blonde woman seemed to shake her head when she saw this, then she said. 

"My name is Zumwalt, I am... The ship you are looking at. Why don't you join your other friends?"

"We missed dinner because Laffey fell asleep, it was hard to wake her up." Javelin complained to her friend who was somehow sleeping in a standing position. 

"That's... an interesting story, how about you girls have dinner on my ship? I happen to be quite lonely." Zumwalt said with a smile.

"Is it all right, Miss Zumwalt?" Javelin asked reluctantly. 

"Of course, the more the merrier, after all evening snacks sound delightful." Zumwalt replied with a smile. 

Zumwalt then looked at Laffey and picked her up. Javelin said. "Is it really okay, Miss Zumwalt? We don't want to disturb..."

"Hahaha seriously, it's fine, I like little kids like you girls, after all your friend seems to need a break." Zumwalt said patting the back of Laffey who was asleep in Zumwalt's arms. 

"Yeah... She had quite a fight this afternoon." Javelin replied softly. 

Zumwalt then led Javelin and carried Laffey up to his ship through the stairs. As they were about to enter through one of the doors, someone suddenly called out to Zumwalt. When she looked, it was Francisco with Sandy. 

"Oh hey, you guys, what's up?" Zumwalt asked the two shipgirls. 

"Can we join you? We missed dinner." Francisco said with a sheepish chuckle. 

Sandy did the same while scratching the back of her head. Zumwalt laughed briefly before smiling a little. "Of course, as I told Javelin, the more the merrier."

They then entered the ship and Zumwalt then pointed the direction to the galley through the signpost in the hallway, while she went first to the officer's quarters to put Laffey who was fast asleep. 

Javelin looked at the contents of Zumwalt's ship with admiration. "This is really amazing, ships from the future are different huh."

"Yes, but it seems a little messy." Sandy commented looking at some cables coming out of the ship's wall. 

"Maybe before Miss Zummy appeared in this world she was under repair?" Francisco said offering her speculation. 

"That could be possible." Javelin replied poking at one of the objects like a television but the size of a book, thin and stuck to the wall of the ship. 

"What do you think this is?" Javelin asked curiously. 

"Maybe to regulate the temperature? I heard that apartments in New York and surrounding areas already use this kind of thing to regulate the temperature." Said Sandy who was curious too. 

"Girls, we should go straight to the galley, it's not nice to touch things that don't belong to us, after all Miss Zummy can see what we're doing in here." Said Francisco who was trying to be the adult in this small group. 

"Oh come on Francis, I know you're curious too... And also, I've heard you call Miss Zumwalt 'Zummy' several times." Sandy said while pointing at Francisco. 

"Her name is quite hard to pronounce on my tongue sometimes, so I just call her Miss Zummy." Francisco said while shrugging his shoulders. 

"That's a good nickname anyway..." Murmured Javelin who agreed with Francisco. 

They then walked following the signs on the ship's wall to the ship's galley.

While this was happening, Zumwalt entered one of the officer's quarters she had while carrying a sleeping Laffey in her arms. As Zumwalt placed Laffey on her bed and was about to leave, Laffey suddenly strengthened her embrace on Zumwalt's body. 

Laffey slowly opened her eyes. "Where are you going?"

"To cook a meal for your friends, I'll be right here to bring your portion." Zumwalt replied softly. 

"Mhmm... Let them cook it themselves. You smell nice and warm." Murmured Laffey who buried her head in Zumwalt's chest which was quite large but not excessive, especially since Zumwalt's clothes were quite closed which made it less visible. 

"Laffey... Right? I haven't bathed yet, so there's no way I smell good... Maybe my body heat came from putting out the fire." Zumwalt replied gently while stroking Laffey's head. 

"Mhmm... Okay..." Laffey reluctantly released her embrace and continued to lie on the relatively very soft mattress. 

Zumwalt smiled a little before finally walking out and heading to the ship's galley as soon as possible before they did something really silly. 

Once in the galley, Zumwalt let out a sigh of relief when she found San Francisco, Sandy and Javelin just sitting there casually. Francisco and Sandy appeared to be playing a board game and Javelin was reading a book. 

"I'm glad you guys were able to find this place, it's pretty hard to maneuver in here." Zumwalt said with a smile. 

Javelin looked away from the book she was reading. "We'll take your word for it, Miss Zumwalt, follow the arrow to the galley."

"Then I'll start cooking." Zumwalt then walked to the galley section and started cooking. Javelin saw this and marked the page she was reading, put the book on the table and walked to the galley to help Zumwalt. 

Meanwhile, San Francisco and Sandy were serious about their board game. They kept playing until they didn't realize that the late dinner was ready. 

"Hey Francis, Sandy, the food is ready." Zumwalt said gently patting the heads of the two people who were playing. 

They both then came to their senses and saw in front of them a plate of Spaghetti complete with tantalizing meatballs. 

Without thinking, they prayed and devoured the food. Javelin, who was washing the cooking utensils, shook her head when she saw their behavior. 

Zumwalt sat in front of them and ate too, not long after Javelin came with her portion. They ate their dinner quietly. 

After finishing the meal, Javelin took the plates and cutlery to be washed, while Francisco, Sandy and Zumwalt talked. 

"The spaghetti was very good, Miss Zummy, what's your secret?" Asked Francisco curiously. 

"There is no secret Francis, it's just ready-to-eat food, everything is from the production plant and we just heat it up." Zumwalt humbly said. 

"The ready-to-eat food that normal soldiers use on the front lines can be this good? I can imagine how pampered American soldiers will be in the future." Sandy said while taking a bite of one of the crackers included in the dinner menu. 

"So pampered that they can't even fight back against the bastards from Beijing when they're attacked." Zumwalt grumbled remembering one of the many causes of the Chinese-American War. 

"Hmm? Why is that?" Francisco asked curiously. 

"Many war equipment or even electronics that Americans use daily have chips purchased from Chinese companies. The reason why Chinese companies are chosen is because they are cheap and can be bought in large quantities." Zumwalt began to tell a story. 

"So?" Francisco asked. 

"Wait a minute, what is this 'chip'?" Asked a confused Sandy. 

"Well, what is Chip, isn't it an English food?" Francisco recalled Fish and Chips. 

Zumwalt laughed. "Not that kind of Chip, that just Fries and Fish."

"They're not." Javelin, who finished cleaning up, came in with a tray of tea cups and made a slightly offended face. 

"Hahaha, I'm sorry Javelin, the urge to mock the British is always there." Zumwalt said with a laugh. 

"I can't blame you though, I sometimes prefer food outside of England." Javelin said as she handed each person a cup of tea. 

"Thanks Javelin and apologies for being a bit of a prankster earlier." Zumwalt said. 

"It's okay Miss Zummy, no offense was taken." Javelin then sipped her tea. 

"So, Miss Zummy... Can you continue the story?" Asked Sandy who was still curious and used the nickname 'Zummy'. 

"The chip I'm referring to is a small electronic device the size of a coin, sometimes smaller, it's like a brain, but for computers." Zumwalt said. 

"So what does this have to do with China?" Asked Francisco. 

"Well, when China makes those chips, they take full control of them and when the war starts, they just push one button and they succeed in taking down all of America's digitized military assets." Zumwalt said with increasing anger. 

"That sounds very... How do you say, ah yes, cunning." Sandy said. 

"Yes, they are very cunning. It's very gratifying that we were able to win the war... But it doesn't feel like victory." Zumwalt said as she turned her face away. 

"Why is that Miss Zummy?" Asked Francisco.

"The war ended with the status quo ante bellum, as it was before the war. How ridiculous is that? How can that be considered a victory? Thousands of American service men and women died in this war and they think they can treat it all as if it never happened? How annoying." Grumbled Zumwalt who then drank the tea Javelin had brewed to calm down. 

"Oh... Oh yes, Miss Zummy, may I know what these are for?" Asked Javelin while showing the glasses she found earlier in one of the cabinets. 

"Ah, it's a VIZ, a versatile thing. Try them on." Zumwalt smiled. 

Javelin then put on the glasses and she almost fell backwards in shock, in front of her there were several floating screens with each screen showing a choice. 

"Woah there's a floating screen." Javelin said in awe. 

"Tell it where you want to go." Zumwalt said. 

Javelin then tried to think she was in Stonehenge, England. And sure enough, she was already there and it seemed like there were many people there. Javelin tried to walk there and apparently she could. But in fact, Javelin just smiled incoherently while doing some hand movements.

Francisco and Sandy looked at this with amazement. Sandy asked curiously. "Miss Zummy! What's wrong with Javelin?"

"She seems to be sightseeing at Stonehenge, quite a good choice." Zumwalt said with a chuckle. 

"Can we try it too?" Asked Francisco hopefully. 

"Hmm... Of course, why not? You guys need some entertainment, get some more goggles over there and there's a guide on how to use them, I'm going to Laffey's place." Zumwalt stood up and went to the room Laffey was in while carrying her portion of food. 

Meanwhile, Francisco and Sandy seemed to be scrambling to the ship's galley cabinet which was full of VIZ goggles left behind by the Zumwalt's crews. 

Zumwalt entered the room where Laffey was sleeping and saw her sitting in front of the Television while watching a program there. It was one of the cartoons that had been downloaded on the TV, she didn't know who did it. 

"Hey, you awake?" Zumwalt asked smiling. 

"Mhmm... Couldn't sleep... Empty stomach." Laffey said. 

"Of course, I can't sleep on an empty stomach either, this is for you." Zumwalt then placed the food container on the table and opened it. 

The smell of the food immediately pierced Laffey's nose which made her attention distracted. Inside the food container, there was rice and several pieces of meat with teriyaki sauce.

"Delicious..." Laffey said with her saliva falling from the corner of her lips. 

Zumwalt wiped Laffey's saliva with a napkin she took out of her jacket. "There, let's eat, then I'll tuck you in."

Laffey nodded her head and immediately ate the food brought by Zumwalt. Afterwards, Zumwalt cleaned the Crumbs from Laffey's face and led her back to bed. Once in bed, Zumwalt put a blanket over Laffey's body. 

Laffey looked at Zumwalt and said. "No kiss on the forehead?"

Zumwalt immediately blushed a little, she did this all as her motherly instinct came out, so this is what it feels like to be a parent, maybe? 

Zumwalt kissed Laffey's forehead and waited for Laffey to fall asleep. She didn't have to wait long because a few minutes later, Laffey was fast asleep. 

Zumwalt nodded her head in satisfaction and went back to the ship's galley. She wanted to make sure the three Shipgirls in her hull didn't do anything stupid... 

The next day.

Zumwalt was seen drinking coffee on the deck near her cannon dome. With her, there were Francisco, Sandy, Javelin and a semi-conscious Laffey. 

"Miss Zummy, what are you going to do today?" Javelin asked curiously. 

"Helping clean up the ruins around the base and also trying to figure out how to replenish my ammo supply." Zumwalt said. 

"Hmm? You don't know how to do that?" Asked Francisco in confusion. 

"Of course, not a few days ago I was just a ship, this is all still confusing to me." Zumwalt answered honestly. 

"You can replenish your ammunition by using energy, the greater your energy, the faster the replenishment of ammunition." Said Javelin remembering the lesson given in the past. 

"Huh? That's it? How does that even work?" Zumwalt asked in shock.

"I don't know Miss Zummy, it's still one of the mysteries of us shipgirls, even the scientists who until now continue to study us still don't know, what we know is that this ability greatly saves logistics and these funds can be used for other base needs, such as repair facilities for example." Sandy replied. 

"Huh, surprising, let me try." Zumwalt then closed her eyes and imagined it happening. Suddenly the VIZ goggles in her jacket pocket beeped as she put them on, the statistics that appeared surprised her. 

"All my ammo is actually replenished? What a terrifying ability." Zumwalt said while breaking out in a cold sweat. 

"Yes, that was also the response of the top brass of the Royal Navy when they first saw our abilities." Javelin said scratching the back of her head. 

Zumwalt took off the glasses and put them back in her jacket pocket. They then continued talking about other things, such as what fun things to do in their free time and so on. 

In the middle of their conversation, Zumwalt saw in the distance two Aircraft Carriers that were about to enter the base. Zumwalt sharpened her vision a little and finally she could clearly see the ships. 

The carriers were of the Yorktown class, USS Enterprise and USS Hornet. Not only the two of them, there were several light cruisers and destroyers as their escorts. Francisco who was looking in that direction also smiled. 

"And over there is one of our best shipgirls, still a rookie, but she is very talented." Francisco said proudly. 

"Ah her, the Grey Ghost I've heard so much about? Rumors of her legend reached Europe. A great shipgirl who sank so many Sirens single-handedly that many times the Navy declared her sunk, she appeared from beyond the horizon." Javelin said recalling the rumors she heard from the maids. 

"Enterprise is quite popular, huh? Even though the actions she took were extremely reckless and could have cost her life, it became a propaganda field for the government." Sandy said with a long sigh. 

"Huh? She's a workaholic?" Zumwalt asked. 

"Very workaholic, it's a good thing she has her sisters and Vestal to keep her company at all times." Explained Francisco. 

Zumwalt continued to stare at Enterprise's ship as it docked in one of the harbors, quite close to her ship. Zumwalt saw a woman with long snow-white hair in a black coat and an outfit similar to an officer's but with some modifications. If Zumwalt looked closely, the woman had a worried look on her face. 

"Well, she's really pretty." Zumwalt complimented while nodding her head. 

"She and her sisters are among the many beautiful shipgirls, it's not wrong that they are called supermodels in the State." Sandy said in an envious tone. 

"Are you jealous, Sandy?" Zumwalt asked teasingly. 

"Yes, I always wanted to be an actress and singer, but many entertainment companies rejected me in favor of other shipgirls, it's quite sad." Said Sandy sadly. 

Zumwalt frowned slightly and patted Sandy's head. "Relax, Sandy, I'll help you as much as I can."

"Thank you for comforting me, Miss Zummy, but how can I compete with them?" Sandy gestured to Enterprise who was coming down the ladder on her ship. 

"Beauty is relative, Sandy, in the future there are many artists with ordinary looks, but can make many outstanding songs, you can definitely do it." Zumwalt said seriously. 

"If you believe me... I'll do it! And I'll make sure you get a front row ticket." Sandy's eyes were burning. 

"That's the spirit." Zumwalt laughed. 

Francisco and Javelin smiled as Zumwalt comforted Sandy, while Laffey kept trying to stay awake. 

Then suddenly Javelin said. "Miss Zummy, Miss Enterprise is walking this way!"

Sure enough, the Enterprise was walking towards Zumwalt's ship with a woman with twintail yellow hair and wearing clothes that were quite questionable in terms of modesty.

Upon reaching the stairs that would lead up to the Zumwalt's ship, Enterprise said. "Permission to board the ship?"

Zumwalt then replied a bit loud. "Permission granted... Please board."

Enterprise nodded her head and climbed aboard followed by the blonde twintail woman in a rather revealing outfit. At the top, Enterprise met Zumwalt face to face. 

They continued to stare at each other, trying to size each other up. Francisco, Sandy and Javelin watched from the side lines with concern, Laffey also seemed to be getting less sleepy. 

"You're the mysterious ship that came to the Pearl's rescue when those bastards from Japan bombed it?" Asked Enterprise. 

"Yes, I am." Zumwalt replied. 

Enterprise extended her hand to Zumwalt. "I used to be a friend of the Japanese, but they bombed my house and killed a lot of people, one extra person in beating up those damn Japanese is very welcome."

"Thank you, Miss Enterprise." Zumwalt smiled as she shook Enterprise's hand.

Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. 

Dozens of black-colored ships appeared to be sinking with smoldering flames, dozens of jet planes also flew at high speed in the sky. Among the wrecks, there is a giant aircraft carrier with the hull number 77.

Standing on its flight deck, an adult woman with red hair, green shirt, black skirt, white robe like a doctor and black stockings seen drinking a coffee.

"It's obvious that these aren't the Directorate... So who are they?" The woman muttered as she watched one of the half-submerged Battleships explode after being hit by a missile launched from her plane, the F-35. 

She then felt something and looked towards the south with a confused look. "Huh, the ATHENA system seems to be active there, there could be other American ships, time to set sail to find out." 

The giant ship immediately turned around and sailed at full speed towards the south. Almost all the F-35s she had flown had landed and only three remained in the air for CAP.

TBC. 

Should Zumwalt adopt Laffey at this point? Lol. 

Let me know what you think of the story so far.

Adios. 

Chapter Text

Joint Base Hickam-Pearl Harbor, Oahu, Hawaii. 

Cleveland can be seen leaning against one of the ammunition boxes with a tired face. She hadn't slept for most of the night as she had been helping to mitigate the damage caused by continuous enemy attacks. 

She was able to sleep after her other colleagues forced her to sleep, Cleveland was very grateful to have friends who cared like them. Cleveland then looked at the Aircraft Carrier that had just entered the harbor, that was their star, Enterprise. 

"Cleve, are you okay?" A girl with long blue hair looked worried. 

"Helen... I'm fine, just tired from all this." Cleveland said with a chuckle. 

"You need to rest Cleve, here's a sandwich for you." Helena, a shipgirl from the Brooklyn-class light cruiser, handed Cleveland a sandwich. 

"Thanks Helen, is this from Nevada?" Cleveland saw Helena nod her head which immediately made Cleveland take a bite of the sandwich. 

"Oh yes, this is the best." Cleveland sighed as she swallowed the first bite. 

Cleveland then saw Admiral Kimmel, Nevada and Wales walking towards one of the 'Cruiser' that appeared during the first Japanese attack. 

"Hey Helen, do you know who that is?" Cleveland asked curiously.

"Hmmm... Ah yes, if I remember correctly, it was a new Destroyer that claimed to be from our country." Helena replied. 

"That thing is a destroyer?!" Cleveland's eyes opened wide.

Helena chuckled. "That's how I reacted when I heard that from my sister."

"It's more like a Heavy Cruiser or in German, what's it called, Panzerschiffe?" Cleveland seemed to struggle with the German. 

"Yes, but the weaponry it carries is really much more powerful than anyone expected, Cleve, you remember when we were fighting with one of the enemy destroyers, suddenly there was a sound like a train from the sky and the ship was instantly split in two, right?"

"Ah yes, that was really crazy." Cleveland said. 

"Well, it came from the Destroyer... Zumwalt was her name." Helena said. 

"It's great that our country can build such a great ship, I'll thank her later." Cleveland stood up after she finished the sandwich Helena gave her. 

"Where are you going Cleve?" Helena tilted her head. 

"Looking for someone." Cleveland's face was flushed. 

Helana smiled gently and patted Cleveland on the shoulder. "Keep chasing that person, Cleve, don't let go."

"Oh shut up!" An embarrassed Cleveland ran away, leaving a giggling Helena behind. 

On the deck of the USS Zumwalt. 

Wales looked around while whistling. "This all looks very foreign to me."

"Not just you, Wales." Nevada said looking at the dome on the bow of the Zumwalt. 

"Hmmm the design of the Tumblehome, reminds me of the ships of old." Kimmel said nostalgically. 

"Admiral! It's a pleasure to have you back aboard my hull, what's the need if I may know?" Zumwalt appeared from one of the doors while carrying Laffey, behind her was Javelin with an embarrassed face. 

"Oh look, Miss Zumwalt, I've reported all this to Naval Headquarters and they want to sign a contract with you." Kimmel said as he took out a piece of paper from the bag he was carrying. 

Zumwalt then received the letter and read it carefully. Broadly speaking, it was a normal contract that the usual young sailor would get when enlisting into the Navy, nothing suspicious at all. 

"Hmm I agree to almost everything in this contract, but can the Navy guarantee that the shipgirls who sign this contract are treated properly?" Zumwalt asked with quite sharp eyes. 

"Of course Ms. Zumwalt, shipgirls are considered heroes in the United States, many lives have been saved by shipgirls, we would be the most foolish people in the world if we did not fulfill such a simple thing." Kimmel replied firmly. 

"Then I accept, after all I also want to find my way home, having a home here also sounds good." Zumwalt signed the contract. 

"Excellent, now, Ms. Zumwalt... Can you tell us more about yourself and what our country is like in the other world?" Kimmel asked. 

"Well, it all started in Dhahran."

Somewhere in the Northern Pacific Ocean. 

USS George H.W. Bush, the last of the Nimitz-class aircraft carriers, also one of the first ships sunk by the Directorate when the War began, is seen sailing at cruising speed. Shipgirls from the ship are seen crossing her arms and standing near the ship's island. 

"It feels quite strange sailing without a crew, but this all feels very normal, just like I'm used to." George seemed to be talking to herself before she finally looked towards the West, she heard an SOS signal from there. 

"Someone calling for help? I don't know what's going on, but I'm not going to ignore someone in trouble!" George then turned her ship towards the West. 

Two F-35s appeared on the catapult and prepared to take off, after a check that took only a few seconds, the advanced fighter jets took off immediately. Not wanting to waste any time, two more F-35s appeared on the catapult and were again flown into the sky by George. After a few minutes, George managed to fly 20 F-35s with predominantly anti-ship weaponry. 

Not to forget, George alsp flew three SH-60Bs to make sure there were no enemy submarines hanging around, she didn't want a repeat of the time she sunked by the Directorate... 

A few minutes passed and something beeped in her jacket, when she picked it up it turned out to be a VIZ Glasses. When George put them on, she immediately saw everything her plane saw with a new perspective. It's like she's in a video game. 

She looked down and there was a 110 meter long ship in a bad state of damage, there were several black ships from the previous skirmish surrounding the ship. George couldn't see any of the crew, but she can worry about that later. 

Her two F-35s started the attack run by launching four LRASM anti-ship missiles, followed by another F-35. The stealth feature of the F-35s made them almost undetectable by the enemy ship's radar, but it was only when the belly of the F-35s opened up that they were detected. 

But it was too late as dozens of LRASMs were now heading towards the black ships surrounding the badly damaged ship. Each ship got at least 5 LRASMs, they slowly began to sink, but even so, their point defense weapons fired and tried to bring down George's F-35s. 

Several minutes passed with the F-35s dodging every shot of the black ships' point defense weapons, before they all finally went completely offline. George let out a long sigh before she finally took off her VIZ goggles, she then ordered her F-35s to circle over the Ship she saved, making sure no enemy attacked again. 

George's journey at full speed to the ship that sent the SOS took approximately half an hour and by the time she arrived at the location, all the ships she attacked had sunk. 

As George looked at the ships she had rescued, she realized just how far apart in size they were. George shook her head before deciding to board the ship. George went to the elevator section of the ship and slowly lowered one RHIB, after the process was completed, George kicked the engine in her small boat to dock beside the ship. 

George cocked the M4A1 she had summoned from the ship's Armory, after inspecting the weapon that looked like something a JSOC member would use on a mission or training exercise, George refocused toward the Ship. 

Once alongside the ship, George then fired a hook from the launcher and slowly climbed aboard. The rope tied to the hook was connected to the RHIB, so she just tied the rope to the ship's rail, making sure the boat didn't go anywhere. 

George then slowly inspected the deck of the ship carefully... Very strange, there was not a single crew member on deck, not even bloodstains from the battle. George then entered the bridge of the ship and saw two girls sitting there in pain. 

The one who seemed to be aware of George's presence was the girl dressed in red Chinese clothes having brown hair with a typical Chinese woman's hairstyle. 

"A-Are you from Azur Lane?" asked the Chinese girl with a frightened face. 

George was silent for a moment while frowning, Azur Lane, what is it? Some kind of organization? Asked George in confusion. 

"I don't know what Azur Lane is, but I know you are from China because youdressed like that, what is your purpose." George pointed her M4A1 at the girl. 

The girl looked like she was going to cry, but she remained firm and said. "Wait a minute, we're allies, right?! America and the Republic of China?! I'm Ping Hai from the RoC Navy, this is Ning Hai my sister, please don't hurt us!"

George scowled, she slowly put back on the VIZ goggles she took from her jacket pocket, the search engine on the goggles instantly searched for the names Ping Hai and Ning Hai. The result was, they were indeed light cruisers of the RoC Navy.

"Why are you sailing so far from your home waters and also, if you are indeed a RoC ship, why are you in this part of The Pacific and not fighting the Japanese?" Asked George in an interrogating tone. 

"We were assigned by the Navy leadership to join Azur Lane, they said it was better for us to be with Azur Lane fighting the Sirens than to deal with the War against Japan.." Ping Hai answered as best she could. 

"Sirens? You are fighting mermaids?" Asked George with more confusion. 

"Huh? You don't know Siren? Those are ships that have just sunk due to an attack from nowhere." Ping Hai said. 

George thought for a moment. "So, the Siren that I sunk before was... Aliens?"

"Ah, you sunk them? Thank you so much for saving us! But... Can you help my sister?" Ping Hai made a pitiable face. 

George saw that the other girl who was injured even more than Ping Hai, George's feelings were quite mixed about this, on one hand the country origin of these two in the future was the cause of her dead/sunk, but at the same time, the Directorate had not yet been born and was still in the form of RoC. After thinking for a few seconds, George finally lowered her assault rifle. 

"I hope you girls don't make me regret this." George said firmly.

"I- We promise!" Ping Hai said shakily. 

George sighed. "Get your sister on my ship, I'll tow the ship."

"Thanks again!" Ping Hai continued to thank George before finally carrying her sister. 

George led Ping Hai to her RHIB and they sailed back to George's ship. Ping Hai's reaction to seeing George's ship was very amusing to George. 

Ping Hai widened her eyes with her mouth slightly open. "M-Miss, this is your ship?"

"That's right." George replied briefly. 

"That's amazing! I didn't know America managed to build such a big ship!" Ping Hai was excited to see George's ship... 

"Oh yes, Miss... Ummm, I didn't get your name." Ping Hai said shyly. 

"Hmm? My name is George, USS George H.W. Bush." George introduced herself. 

"Nice to meet you, Miss George."

They finally arrived at George's ship, getting the injured Ning Hai on board George's ship proved to be quite tricky, but after much care, Ning Hai was successfully put on board, as well as Ping Hai. 

George herself immediately went to the back of the ship to start the procedure of towing the ship, to be honest George had never done this before, but she had seen several times before how to tow a ship and also make strong ties so that the connection would not be easily break. Unless there's a storm... George cringe herself, hope she just not Jinx them. 

The process took a while, but George was successful. Before the process began, George sent a message to one of the bipedal robots on the ship to go to Ping Hai and Ning Hai. 

Ping Hai who was sitting on George's deck was seen holding Ning Hai's hand tightly, they were safe but Ning Hai was still injured which made Ping Hai very worried. Not only that, Ping Hai took her time to look around and she was amazed by the fighters lined up on the deck of the Carrier, they all looked very new and advanced. 

Suddenly she heard footsteps from behind, the sound was very strange unlike Miss George. When Ping Hai turned her gaze back, Ping Hai saw a kind of... A bipedal robot carrying a large backpack. 

The robot walked up to Ping Hai and Ning Hai quite menacingly which made Ping Hai squeal in fear. A few moments passed and Ping Hai did not feel any attacks, when Ping Hai opened her eyes, she saw that the robot seemed to be checking Ning Hai's condition. 

"Y-You didn't hurt us?" Ping Hai asked hesitantly. 

"Answer: MEDIC units are forbidden to harm humans. We were created to help people." A monotonous voice that sounded quite feminine echoed from the robot's body. The robot did not have a mouth, but its voice came out from the speakers built inside. 

"Magnificent." Ping Hai was once again amazed, it seemed that America was more advanced than the RoC Navy officials thought, she had to make sure that the diplomacy mission she and her sister Ning Hai did was successful in lobbying America to help China more in dealing with Japan and also possibly communist influence. 

Ping Hai watched as the MEDIC robot began to treat Ning Hai's wounds using some sort of spray can, the sprayed liquid hardened and sealed her sister's wounds, but before the robot did so, it made sure to clean any dirt or foreign objects near Ning Hai's wounds. After the liquid hardened, a light came out from the robot's eye-like part, before the robot finally bandaged some parts of Ning Hai's body. 

"Confusion: This human has much faster regeneration properties. Searching for answers... Result: Negative." The MEDIC robot seemed confused about the biology of a shipgirl. 

"Ah, it's okay, we shipgirls do have very fast regeneration, unless we are seriously injured like losing a limb." Ping Hai quickly replied. 

"Understood. Storing data in the database... Stored. Thank you Miss."

After inserting the IV into Ning Hai, the MEDIC robot returned to its original place inside the ship, leaving Ping Hai and Ning Hai on the deck.

"That's... Something." Ping Hai said, at a loss for words. 

"Did it treat your sister?" George then appeared with two other robots, this time in the shape of a Spider. 

"Ah, Miss George! Yes, she has stabilized my sister's condition, thank you for saving her once again." Ping Hai again lowered her head. 

"Stop thanking, really, that word will be meaningless if you keep throwing it around." George said sharply. 

"I-Yes, I understand... Sorry." Ping Hai said quietly. 

George sighed, she made the girl in front of her upset at her. "Hey, I'm not mad at you, it's just that I'm... Having a little problems you could say, never mind, let them carry your sister, it would be better if you girls relax in the Hangar rather than here."

The two Spider robots then carried Ning Hai carefully, this sight enough to make Ping Hai again marvel at the technology she saw. Ping Hai then quickly followed George to the large elevator beside the ship. Once there, the elevator slowly descended and the appearance of George's hangar was enough to amaze Ping Hai once again. 

"Amazing! This place can be used for festival!" Ping Hai saw that there were also several F-35s, Seahawk Helicopters and E-2 Hawkeye. 

Ping Hai seemed to walk to one of the F-35s and held the body of the aircraft, Ping Hai looked confused and then asked. "Mhmm... Where is the propeller?"

"Oh? Well, I don't use that kind of airplane, only for Hawkeye and Helicopter. That's called a Jet Fighter." George answered Ping Hai's question lightly. She had nothing to be afraid of saying because in a few years, Jets would be the norm in the world but George made sure she did not divulge too many sensitive things. 

"Tell me, Ping Hai, what year is it?" George asked. 

"Hmm? Of course 1941, what's with that question Miss George?" asked Ping Hai in astonishment. 

George let out a long sigh, her guess was right, she seemed to be at the time of the Second World War, the opening when her country, America, entered the war. 

"And... This Azur Lane you're referring to, where are they based?" George once again asked. 

"In Oahu, Hawaii, of course! Why don't you know that? You're from America!" Ping Hai said with her confusion growing with each passing moment of this conversation. 

"...Well, Ping Hai, I think I am in a some kind Alternative Past now."

??? 

"This is... It's not what I imagined to happen, tell me, is this a new variable that we should anticipate like the Arbiter said?"

"Maybe yes, maybe no, the appearance of these two modern ships is quite thought-provoking, the way they appeared is also very unusual, except for the Supercarrier which was already sunk but she did not touch the Wisdom Cube."

"Should we investigate this further and thoroughly?"

"Of course we should, this new variable can make our experiment results far off, how many experiments like this have happened?"

"Can't be counted at all."

"Exactly, we must take this threat seriously and thoroughly, but still be prepared for the unexpected, we can be thankful that these two are not carrying nuclear warheads."

"Agreed."

"Should we deploy her?"

"No, she'll only do more damage, like I said, for now let's pay attention, when the time is right, we'll come. We always come."

"In the end this cycle will keep repeating itself, huh."

"That's how it works. That's how it always works. That's how we works."

"We always turn the cycle until we get the results we want. The results that our creators want. The results that all of humanity has entrusted to us. May the sun never set on Human civilization, long live Humanity!"

TBC

Chapter Text

Joint Base Hickam-Pearl Harbor, Oahu, Hawaii. 

Zumwalt, Wales and Nevada were seen talking in the Base cafeteria, Kimmel had left first because of business with General Maxwell and General Smith of the Marines Corps. 

"I apologize that my country from your home world did not assist you, Miss Zumwalt, it is an act that does not reflect well on Great Britain as we never abandon our allies." Wales asserted herself. 

"It's okay Wales, really, I understand why your country of my home world isn't helping, you guys in my home world don't have any influence in Asia anymore and again, NATO must be on alert for an attack from Russia through Ukraine or Belarus." Zumwalt said waving her hand repeatedly. 

"You heard her Wales, everything has a reason girl." Nevada said while drinking the coffee she had ordered. 

"Still, Nevada! Leaving an ally who has helped the Alliance so much without a fight? I don't know what Great Britain's government in that world is thinking." Wales seemed to still be upset that her country in Zumwalt's homeworld was such a coward that it dared not do anything. 

"Well, the main conflict is in the Pacific Ocean, thousands of kilometers from Europe, of course they feel reluctant to help the US in the War. But, you said there was one country that intervened directly?" Nevada asked Zumwalt while recalling what she heard earlier. 

"Yes, Poland was the only country that sent military assistance in the form of their Kilo-class submarines." Zumwalt nodded her head, remembering the old submarine that fought tenaciously until her last moment. 

"Only one?" Wales raised her eyebrows. 

"Yes, if I remember correctly, it was used because the Directorate had the technology to detect the presence of the US Navy's Nuclear Submarines, making our hunter submarines the hunted ones. That Kilo Class Submarine, Orzel her name, was able to slip through the cracks of the Directorate's sensor reconnaissance almost unnoticed, it's just a shame that the old lady had to sunk because she was hit by a Stonefish." Zumwalt sighed sadly, she could not quickly make a shot that could help Orzel to stay alive. 

"Poland, an example of a country betrayed by my country." Wales again bowed her head in annoyance and shame. 

Nevada patted Wales on the shoulder to comfort her while Zumwalt only smiled slightly. "Take it easy Wales, the Germans will lose their steam sooner or later and we can counterattack to quickly end this war that has taken so many lives."

"By the way, your homeworld had a Second World War very similar to this one, right? Can... You tell me how many?" Nevada asked quite quietly. 

"Approximately 75 million." Zumwalt answered briefly which made Nevada and Wales widen their eyes, the latter clenching her hands into fists. 

"Fucking Jerry." Wales cursed. 

"That much..." Nevada looked a little sick at the thought. 

"Most of the casualties are from Soviet, China, Southeast Asia and a few other places." Zumwalt continued. 

"Okay Zumwalt, I think we've heard enough of that depressing stuff... Can you tell me about the fun stuff?" Nevada quickly changed the subject. 

"Sure, what do you want to know about alternate futures?" Zumwalt asked, grateful that Nevada had changed the subject. 

"I'm quite curious about the development of food in your homeworld, whether it's get more shitty or not." Nevada said. 

"Trust me, Nevada, the development of food in the future is quite rapid and... Unique, you might say." Zumwalt recalled that while on Mare Island where she was being repaired, some young and old sailors beat each other up for arguing about Pizza with pineapple and pickles. 

"It would be great if I could try my hand at making it. Do you have a cooking book?" Nevada asked hopefully. 

"Of course I do, I'll lend it to you later." Zumwalt smiled.

"Oh look, it looks like it's 11 o'clock, sorry ladies, but my schedule is pretty tight." Nevada laughed before finally leaving the cafeteria, leaving Wales and Zumwalt alone. 

Wales looked back at Zumwalt after seeing Nevada leave. "Any other technology that might help with combat performance?"

Zumwalt seemed to have a thinking face, she had been thinking about this all night while cuddling with Laffey, she had some pretty useful ideas. 

"There are a few, it's just that the thing I'm going to give you is only useful as a battle support, at least your performance is much better than the enemy shipgirls if we ever come into contact with them again." Zumwalt said. 

"No problem, one thing that can be an advantage against the enemy can increase the percentage of victory I will always take." Wales said seriously. 

Zumwalt stared at Wales with an indecipherable look before she finally had an idea. "Hey, Wales, you have the persona of a knight, don't you?"

"I AM a knight, Miss Zumwalt." Wales emphasized again. 

"Yeah, that's, well... I have several... Reality Simulation, so to speak, that can make you more Knight-like." Zumwalt began. 

"I'm listening." Wales crossed her arms. 

"So, you can study enemy movements, learn sword techniques and simulate them without getting hurt, unless you're careless of course." Zumwalt said as she took out VIZ goggles from her green jacket pocket. 

Zumwalt handed the goggles to Wales, and Wales put them on immediately. Suddenly Wales' vision changed, she seemed to be standing in a green meadow that stretched as far as the eye could see. 

Then suddenly twenty meters in front of him, a figure in Samurai armor appeared holding a Katana. The armored figure then attacked Wales with a sharp slash from the right, Wales wanted to dodge but she couldn't, before the sword hit her, suddenly her vision turned black and the glasses she was wearing were taken off. 

Zumwalt appeared to have a worried and sheepish face. "Whoopss, sorry, accidentally put you into the battle simulation."

"Bloody hell... That's... The simulation you were referring to earlier? How could that kind of technology exist?" Asked Wales in shock. 

"Some engineers, programmers and nerds having a bit too much spare time, but hey, they're really geniuses." Zumwalt replied with an awkward laugh. 

Wales slowly returned to normal and let out a long sigh, before looking at Zumwalt, right in the blonde girl's green eyes. 

"Zumwalt, I will get my vengeance, so, let me use those glasses again later." Wales said in a much more serious tone. 

"Sure... Of course... I am also interested in which sword art is better." Zumwalt replied while raising her shoulders. 

Wales nodded her head. "Then I must take my leave first, I must prepare for the arrival of reinforcements from the Royal Navy, Miss Zumwalt, Great Britain will not leave America this time, not if Her Majesty the Queen is still alive and I am her sword."

"Of course Wales, just come to my ship if you want to test the simulation again." Zumwalt waved her hand. 

Wales nodded her head and went outside the cafeteria, Zumwalt looked through the window and there was a black Rolls-Royce Phantom III car, Wales entered the car and immediately drove away. Zumwalt muttered. "Man, I really need to get a vehicle."

Light Cruiser Section, American Shipgirl Dormitory, Joint Base Hickam-Pearl Harbor. 

Cleveland was seen taking her motorcycle out of the garage in the dormitory. Cleveland's motorcycle was a greenish Indian Scout, she was new to the Navy, but she had already received her basic salary after training at the Naval Academy and the first thing she bought was this motorcycle. 

"Cleveland, where are you going?" Asked a beautiful and sexy blue-haired woman who at first glance looked similar to Helana, but she was not Helena but her sister, USS St. Louis. 

"Oh, Lou! Good afternoon, I happened to be suddenly called by General Maxwell." Cleveland said with a chuckle. 

"Oh? General of the 25th? Why did he call you?" Asked St. Louis curiously. 

"Hell if I know, but maybe it's about the battle the other day and he wants to ask a few questions." Cleveland said issuing her speculation. 

"I see, I thought you were going out with that pilot." St. Louis said with a teasing grin. 

"Oh shut up, Lou!" Cleveland's cheeks flushed, she quickly tried to start the motorcycle. 

"Oh the tomboyish Cleve finally fell in love with a man~, what a miracle." St. Louis said dramatically. 

"Buzz off!" Cleveland's motorcycle finally started, but before Cleveland could get out, St. Louis spoke in a much serious tone. 

"Cleve, you mustn't forget that in 10 days it's the launch day of your sister, Columbia is her name if I'm not wrong?" St. Louis reminded Cleveland. 

"Oh goodness, you're right, Lou! Thank you so much for reminding me." Cleveland then excused herself and headed out of the American Shipgirls Dormitory, Light Cruiser Section. 

St. Louis laughed with a melodious voice. "Oh the beauty of love~... Now, how do I get a man too?"

Cleveland grumbled under her breath, was it wrong for her to fall in love normally! Cleveland shook her head, they were just joking and didn't mean to say it, it was just that she was embarrassed to be teased all the time. 

Cleveland heard something in the sky and saw a PBY Catalina escorted by several aircraft from the mass-produced Aircraft Carrier for the Navy's needs, the Yorktown class. 

"Looks like Admiral Nimitz has arrived, I wonder who the welcoming committee is... Ah well, gotta focus on the task at hand!" Cleveland sped up her Indian Scout motorcycle. 

Schofield Barracks, Honolulu. 

After a short ride, Cleveland arrived in front of Schofield Barracks. Cleveland nodded her head to one of the 25th soldiers standing guard there, causing the soldier to immediately open the fence. 

Cleveland entered and parked her Bikes in the guest parking lot, after which she entered the 25th Staff and officers' building. Asking a few people for direction in the hallway, Cleveland finally arrived in front of General Maxwell's office. 

"Excuse me, General!" Cleveland knocked three times on the door. 

"Come in!" Cleveland entered at the command. 

Once inside, Cleveland saw General Maxwell smoking his cigar while sitting in a chair. He motioned Cleveland to close the door which she did immediately. 

"General, may I know why you called me?" Cleveland asked curiously. 

"Fuahh... Cleveland, I've seen you shipgirls fight yesterday very tenaciously, you are also very good at adapting to changes in battle. When I saw you helping my soldiers yesterday in the battle of repelling the Sirens from Honolulu, I had a fleeting thought, why not have the shipgirls work with the Army as well to help with operations on the ground." Maxwell began. 

"Sir, we're not as good in the water at maneuvering." Cleveland interrupted. 

"Wait for me to finish talking first, Cleveland, I mean you girls have super strength, super speed and a lot of powers that normal humans don't have, I made a proposal to Kimmel which he sent to the Naval Center, you could say they allowed some of the shipgirls I chose to work as interns in the 25th Division." Maxwell explained. 

"It's a little confusing, so you're saying you want shipgirls to work for you?" Cleveland guessed. 

"More or less, but with a more formal and legal format, you'll also get an apprentice salary, more experience and knowledge of ground combat." Maxwell nodded his head as he handed Cleveland some papers to read. 

Cleveland read the papers Maxwell gave her. She saw important points marked with circles from a pen. 

The first point, shipgirls remained in the service of the Navy, they were only loaned to the Army in case there was a ground operation that needed them. 

The second point, shipgirls apprenticed to the Army must attend training with other soldiers, at least once a month, formality only. 

The third point, shipgirls will be given a rank of Second Lieutenant at the lowest and the highest is yet to be determined, the salary of the apprentice will be adjusted to the rank the shipgirl holds. 

Those were more or less the key points Maxwell was referring to, there were quite a few more key points on the papers, but Cleveland only read three of them because it was impossible for her to read and understand all the content of the papers. 

"This is all very good... We have no rank in the Navy, but our pay is as much as MCPO or lower, but I know the pay for Aircraft Carrier and Battleship is something akin to Commander or higher." Cleveland said seeing that this Army program was quite interesting. 

"But how long does this internship last?" Cleveland asked. 

"6 months at the most, it can be extended if the shipgirl in question wants it or there are other interests." Maxwell said. 

"Now, the question that's been on my mind... Why me, sir? I'm not a high-ranking shipgirl in Shipgirl Corps." Cleveland said worriedly. 

"Honestly Cleveland, you're the only shipgirl I've talked to and worked with in a long time, for now at least, I know you better than Enterprise or Nevada, so I'd like you to present this proposal to the leaders of the Shipgirl Corps, but ultimately the final decision rests with the Navy." Maxwell spoke at length. 

"I'm... Pretty touched to hear that, I guess? I'm a relatively new shipgirl, so I'm not used to getting all that praise." Cleveland blushed slightly. 

Maxwell laughed before smiling like a father to his children. "The 25th Division will be your second home, shipgirls, many of my soldiers idolize you all, consider you some kind of heroes from a fictional book. I've always heard stories that they want to be more helpful to you, shipgirls, more than just helping evacuate civilians." Maxwell said finishing his short presentation. 

Cleveland thought about it all, it made sense why Maxwell said that, if they wanted to win this war against Siren, then they had to work together and use everything they had to achieve that goal. 

"General, I don't know the answer from the Navy, but you can assume that I agree with this proposal." Cleveland said seriously. 

Maxwell smiled. "Thank you, Cleveland."

Shipgirl-only port, Joint Base Hickam-Pearl Harbor. 

Zumwalt seemed to be walking alone, seeing that the damage caused by the Japanese had been cleaned up a lot. The damage caused by the Japanese also seemed to be less severe than in the home world, perhaps because the Zumwalt intervened and destroyed the enemy Carrier Fleet before they could launch a second wave. Zumwalt walked with the intention of taking a look at the ships docked in this harbor. 

She also did not forget to wear her VIZ goggles to record every ship here, for future battle reference. As she was walking, Zumwalt passed by a beautiful black-haired woman with a side ponytail style with blue clothes that were quite open. 

Zumwalt approached the woman and greeted her. "Good afternoon, Miss."

The woman immediately looked at Zumwalt sharply, her face seemed to be holding back anger and sadness, before finally saying. "Good afternoon too..."

"You... Look sad, are you a shipgirl?" Zumwalt asked cautiously. 

"Pennsylvania, just call me Penny... I almost lost my sister, they almost took her away from me." The woman who turned out to be Pennsylvania looked very angry. 

"Pennsylvania, then your sister is... Arizona, how is she?" Asked Zumwalt worriedly, she knew what happened to her in her home world. 

"She is still unconscious, but the injuries she received are so severe, I'm not sure if they can be healed." Said Penny sadly. 

"The ship?" Zumwalt asked cautiously. 

"Her ship is currently being prioritized for lifting from the water, she can still be saved said Vestal and the Navy officials... But I'm not sure." Said Penny in frustration. 

"I'm sorry to hear that... By the way my name is Zumwalt, nice to meet you Penny, I just hope we can meet at a much better time." Zumwalt said while patting Penny on the shoulder.

"Yeah... That seems like it would be better than now, Thank you and sorry for having to listen to the ramblings of an old ship like me." Penny scratched the back of her head. 

"Hey, you've been through a lot and you're one of the oldest Battleships the US has in their inventory, don't ever look down on yourself again, Penny." Zumwalt said seriously. 

Penny gave a small smile. "Again, Thank you, I really needed to hear that. I wanted to talk to you more, but I was called away by Admiral Kimmel." Penny saluted Zumwalt before finally leaving for where Admiral Kimmel was. 

Zumwalt continued her leisurely stroll while greeting some tiny shipgirls that might be Destroyers. Without realizing it, her feet brought her to an Aircraft Carrier there, Zumwalt looked at the ship number and it was Enterprise's ship. 

Zumwalt saw her own Enterprise standing nearby looking out at the ocean, next to her was a blonde woman in a revealing outfit. Zumwalt approached them. 

"Enterprise, we meet again." Zumwalt greeted. 

Enterprise turned around and gave a small smile. "Zumwalt, fancy seeing you here, taking a walk?"

"Yeah, I was feeling a bit claustrophobic on the ship, so I thought, why not go for a walk while things are looking up? That's more or less it." Zumwalt laughed. 

Enterprise then continued speaking. "Oh yeah, I haven't introduced who's next to me yet, she's Hornet, my little sister."

"Hey Sis, can't you introduce me in a cooler way?" Hornet, the blonde twintail haired woman seemed to complain a little. 

"Ah sorry, I guess you can do it yourself without me." Enterprise smiled awkwardly. 

"Haah, you are... Hello Zumwalt, my name is Hornet, I'm not like my sisters, but I'm strong too." Hornet made a 'V' sign with her finger. 

"Nice to meet you too, Hornet, you know me, the USS Zumwalt, a US destroyer from an alternate future." Zumwalt smiled a little after introducing herself. 

"Yes, I heard also from the stories of the girls around, saying that you were some kind of game changer in the battle the other day, I'm honestly curious." Hornet spoke with excitement. 

"Huh... You're not like what I thought." Zumwalt said a little surprised. 

"...You think I'm going to be a 'Tsundere' like those damn Japanese people say? No Zumwalt, I do have blonde hair in a twintail style, Well sorry about that! That's because I, Hornet, am not a stereotypical woman!" Hornet said excitedly and proudly. 

Enterprise shook her head at that. "Don't call her Big Wasp either, she'll get mad."

"That's right, Big Sis, I'll be furious, roar!" Hornet tried to imitate the roar of a monster, making Zumwalt and Enterprise chuckle. 

"There, that's pretty good. Thanks for the entertainment." Zumwalt stopped laughing after a while. 

"As Zumwalt said, your sense of comedy is getting better Hornet." Enterprise complimented her brother. 

".... It's only your sense of humor that's bad, Sis." Hornet made a deadpan face. 

"Oi-" Before Enterprise could scold her brother, a siren suddenly sounded... 

"Enemy attack?" Enterprise looked up at the sky. 

Zumwalt held her head. "No, but I'm detecting at least 30 ships to the west. From the radar signature, it looks like those are Siren ships."

"Then we have to fight, Hornet, follow me!" Enterprise hurriedly boarded her ship. 

"Oi big sister! We haven't finished resupplying and repairing yet!" Hornet shouted before finally running to board her ship as well. 

"Well, looks like they need an escort ship." Zumwalt ran back to her ship. 

There, Francisco, Sandy, Javelin and Laffey were still relaxing on the ship. 

"Everyone, general alert! The enemy fleet has been detected thirty eight nautical miles west of Pearl Harbor, I will be their screening ship, you may join if you wish." Zumwalt said hurriedly as she untied her mooring lines.

"Siren?!" Javelin cried. 

"Aye, J, are you girls coming?" Asked Zumwalt. 

"Silly question, Miss Zummy." Francisco laughed. 

"We'll catch up, just go ahead okay?" Sandy, Javelin and Francisco then jumped off Zumwalt's deck into the harbor, then ran to find their respective ships. 

Laffey still looked a little sleepy, making Zumwalt sigh and kneel before her. "Laffey, do you want to come help?"

"Mhmh... Helping Zummy." Laffey replied sleepily. 

"Then why don't you take your ship like the others?" Zumwalt asked curiously. 

"They're stupid, they forgot that we, shipgirls, can control our ships from a distance." Laffey grumbled. 

"...That's very convenient." Said Zumwalt who had just learned that fact. 

"Umu, so can I just be here with you?" Laffey hugged Zumwalt and buried her head in Zumwalt's cleavage covered by her jacket and shirt. 

Zumwalt let out a short sigh before finally stroking Laffey's head lovingly. She saw several manned tugboats helping her to get out of the harbor. Zumwalt gave them a salute to which the crew of the tugs returned the salute from Zumwalt. 

Zumwalt increased her speed to 33 knots in order to match the speed of Enterprise and Hornet who had set sail first. Zumwalt contacted Enterprise by radio. 

"Enterprise, some of our Vanguards are coming out of the harbor, can you slow down a bit?" Zumwalt said. 

"Understood, I apologize if I seem to be in a hurry, I don't want any further attacks to fall on my home." Enterprise said apologetically. 

"It's okay girl, I know what you mean, I don't want to see this place burn again either, together we are strong, remember that." Zumwalt then turned off the radio. 

Zumwalt carried Laffey to the bridge, Zumwalt positioned her ship just to the starboard of Enterprise's ship, they were approximately 4 kilometers away. 

Half an hour passed and several ships that Zumwalt identified as San Francisco, San Diego, Javelin and Laffey arrived and formed a diamond formation, with two Aircraft Carriers in the center of the formation. 

Zumwalt, who had changed her position to the front, contacted the Nevada on base. "Nevada, come in Nevada, this is Zumwalt."

"Zumwalt, this is Nevada, your voice sounds very clear, over." Nevada's voice entered her ears. 

"We will enter the AO in half an hour, are there any Submarines in the area of operations, over?" Zumwalt asked while looking at her underwater sensors. 

"There are two Gato-class Submarines there, Admiral Kimmel and Nimitz have given orders to those two Submarines to make a preemptive strike, have you entered the firing radius of your gun?" Asked Nevada. 

"Positive, I can shoot them from here, but I need a way to confirm visually, all my drones have been destroyed and are in the rebuilding stage. I'll have Enterprise perform that task." Zumwalt replied. 

"Understood, take care, Zumwalt, tell the others too." Nevada cut the communication. 

"What did Nevada say, Zumwalt?" Enterprise asked suddenly. 

"She loves you all." Zumwalt replied with a grin. 

"Yeah, right." Enterprise replied sarcastically.

Enterprise and Zumwalt's conversation on the open network was overheard by the other ships which made them laugh. 

"Enterprise, can you fly some of your aircraft to be my eyes in the air?" Zumwalt asked. 

"Sure, fly some Corsairs into the air right now." Sure enough, Zumwalt and the others could see several F4U Corsairs appear on Enterprise's runway. One by one, the aircraft took to the air. 

"Alright, entering bombardment mode." Zumwalt's ship instantly slowed down, which made the other ships slow down as well. 

A 155mm caliber cannon emerged from the dome at the bow of the Zumwalt. The cannon rotated and aimed at the enemy positions in the distance. 

"Commencing firing, now." One bullet came out of the Zumwalt's cannon fiercely, followed by the second, third and so on. Per minute, the Zumwalt fired about 13 bullets that flew at high speed. 

5 minutes passed and approximately 65 shells fired from the Zumwalt's railgun flew towards the enemy fleet. All the shipgirls in the fleet were amazed at the sound of gunfire and how powerful the Zumwalt Railgun was. 

Especially Hornet and Enterprise who had not seen firsthand the greatness of the Zumwalt's Railgun. Enterprise immediately turned her gaze to one of her Corsairs near the enemy. She looked carefully, a few seconds passed and one of the Siren's black heavy cruisers was instantly torn apart, the other ship as well. 

The dumbfounded Enterprise saw the scene where the shells from Zumwalt's railgun had just sunk at least 20 enemy ships and the rest were badly damaged, to the point she didn't hear Zumwalt calling out to her. 

"Oi, Enterprise!"

"Ah!- Sorry, Zumwalt, but all your shots hit the target, confirmed 20 enemy ships sunk and the rest heavily damaged." Enterprise reported. 

"Woohoo!"

"Bullseye, Zumwalt!"

"Miss Zummy is the best!"

Compliments flooded the communication channel between the Fleets, making Zumwalt shake her head, this is too easy. She thought with worry. 

"What the hell?!" Enterprise's panicked and shocked voice suddenly sounded on the communication channel. 

"Sister! What's wrong?" Hornet cried. 

"Enterprise!!!"

"Some unknown aircraft just did a flyby, damn that thing is fast!" Said Enterprise. 

"Enterprise, can you see any identifying marks on these planes?" Zumwalt asked. 

"Uhh yes, these unidentified aircraft for some reason are using the US Naval Aviation logo." Reported Enterprise who seemed to be trying desperately to catch up with the planes. 

"Huh? US Naval Aviation?" Zumwalt was now confused. 

A few minutes passed and Enterprise returned with a report. "For God's sake, that ship is huge!"

"Enterprise, what ship are you referring to?" Zumwalt asked. 

"I don't know, it looks like an Aircraft Carrier but super big. It's probably over 300 meters long." Enterprise continued to report, her voice seemingly rising. 

"Wait... A super large aircraft carrier, over 300 meters long and black aircraft with the American Naval Aviation insignia? Enterprise! Can you see the hull number?" Asked Zumwalt who seemed to realize something. 

"Uhh yes! There's a number near the island, it's 77! Do you recognize it?" Asked Enterprise. 

"Aye, she is the USS George H.W. Bush, the last carrier of the Nimitz class and one of the first Ships the Directorate sunk in the War." Zumwalt replied darkly.

??? 

"They have met, clichéd plot."

"That's right, my brethren, it happens in almost every possible way."

"Should we raise the difficulty level?"

"No no no, there is no need to overdo it like that, our goal is to overcome the two modern ships that are here, not to destroy this timeline, this is one of the timelines that caught the attention of the Arbiters."

"Meaning?"

"There are some things, I can't explain before there is certainty."

"Is there a possibility of other modern ships from that world coming to this timeline as well?"

"Most likely yes, whoever sent those ships here is really trying to give us a ridiculously huge middle finger, how childish."

"Why don't we stop them then?"

"Stop some ships that might come and at the expense of ruining this timeline? No, not a thousand years of life."

"So... We're just going to let them, the Axis faction, be slaughtered by the Allies?"

"The choice is theirs, they made the Second World War happen, there are many factors that could have made them united, but it seems that the Axis faction in this timeline is much more... Selfish and arrogant than usual."

"Will it be a problem?"

"The probability of it becoming a problem and ruining the timeline is 55 percent, it will increase if they don't quickly realize that we have been manipulating them."

"How long do you think it will take for that to happen?"

"The Axis Faction surrendering? The earliest is probably 1943, especially with the development of technology in this timeline which is too... Abnormal you could say."

"How can you say abnormal?"

"They, the United States, have already started researching ballistic missiles, nuclear-powered ships and several technologies that should have existed in the 1970s and above, as well as Germany which is currently using the world's first MBT and GPS-guided rockets, they also have satellites in orbit, abnormal right?"

"...This timeline, there seems to be someone playing the thread behind the scenes."

"There's always something like that, my friend, there's always something like that. Don't worry, we'll find them, we always find them. We just have to focus on the task before us."

"Right, the task is more important."

"Just remember, don't let the Purifiers deploy to this timeline, or there will be grave consequences."

"Understood. For all of Humanity."

"For all of Humanity."

TBC. 

Chapter Text

Moments before Zumwalt and the others arrive. 

George seemed to be yawning quite widely, she was sleep deprived when she first arrived in the alternate past world. The attack from these Siren bastards did not help at all. 

"Miss George, when will we get to Pearl Harbor?" Asked Ping Hai who was beside George. 

"In about two hours if we're lucky, your sister ship is quite heavy." George said with a sigh. 

"Hehe." Ping Hai giggled. 

"So, Miss George, what are you going to do when you get to Pearl Harbor? You said yourself that this is not your home world." Ping Hai asked curiously. 

"Most likely I will offer my services to the American Navy here, the Siren is a real threat." George said seriously.

"I agree with you, Ms. George, I myself still did not expect the Japanese Empire to fall so far that they would use Siren technology." Ping Hai said sadly. 

"You sound sad, why? Didn't Japan commit a lot of war crimes while in China? I don't know how I would feel if the people of my country were treated like that, but my first emotion is anger." George said watching Ping Hai carefully. 

"Right... It's just that, I have some shipgirl friends from the Imperial Japanese Navy, they even gave me a nickname, Yasoshima." Ping Hai smiled a little at the memory. 

"Nanking... Did that tragedy happen?" George asked suddenly with hesitation. 

George saw Ping Hai's eyes sharpen, then she burst into tears, George grimaced, she should have known that it was a sensitive matter for them especially since the incident happened only a few years ago if she guess right. 

George did not know how to comfort people especially Ping Hai that are just basically a kid, but George dug up her memories of when she was in her Homeport, when her crew played with their children on her ship. George reached out to Ping Hai's head and gently rubbed it. 

That made Ping Hai falter for a while, before finally hugging George and crying harder which made George even panic. 

"H-Hey! I'm sorry if I reminded you of a bad memory." George said with a mounting sense of guilt. 

"S-Sorry if I did this to you, M-Miss George... I usually have Sister Ning Hai to comfort me, it embarrassing that I did this especially since we just met." Ping Hai cried painfully. 

George said nothing and continued to stroke Ping Hai's head. A few minutes passed and Ping Hai's crying started to subside. Just as George was about to speak again, she suddenly gasped, making Ping Hai who was holding her confused. 

"Enemy aircraft detected. CAP is holding them at the moment, Ping Hai this place is dangerous." George then carried Ping Hai and ran into the Bridge. 

Several F-35s started flying with air-to-air missiles loadout. They are a group of fighters that George had prepared in case their CAP was attacked by the enemy. At least now George had some ample time to prepare a more appropriate counterattack. 

George and Ping Hai were already on the bridge of the ship, the alarm sound kept going off. George then turned her ship to the right quite sharply, making Ning Hai's ship which she was towing also turn. 

George sensed that her planes that she had sent out earlier along with the CAPs were already engaged in aerial combat. Dozen enemy ships were also detected. 

"Preparing for a counterattack." George muttered. 

Within five minutes, George had flown in a dozen F-35s with anti-ship weaponry and a few minutes later another dozen F-35s for escort. There were also at least three Helicopters that George flew for Anti-Submarine Warfare duties. 

Some Plasma shells landed quite far away from George, but they kept coming and getting closer and closer. 

As George's 12 F-35s entered the firing radius of the anti-ship missiles, they made sure each ship got the right amount for their size, 48 missiles were launched from all the F-35s assigned to carry the anti-ship package, after which they went straight back to  and would be replaced by a dozen more F-35s sent by George. 

The 48 LRASMs launched above sea level, about 4 meters. The Siren ships immediately focused their point defense weapons to shoot down the newly launched anti-ship cruise missiles by George's aircraft. 

5 LRASMs hit one of the targets in the form of a Siren Battleship very hard, the attack also focused on one point, namely in the center of the ship, making the Battleship sink immediately in half. 

The other Siren ships also experienced the same thing, out of 48 LRASMs, about 10 Missiles were successfully shot down by the point defense weapons of the Siren ships. Another 48 Missiles from the second wave came and sank the enemy remnants that were still afloat. 

George sighed, it was all over, or so she thought before seeing dozens or more purplish-colored portals pouring out Siren ships. George immediately glared at them, they were relatively close, about 15 kilometers away from George. 

"Bastards! They can teleport using portals?!" George asked in annoyance. 

"Yes... They can do that, that's one of the reasons why anticipating Siren attacks is so difficult, they always appear using portals, so finding their place of origin is very difficult until now." Ping Hai said, finally regaining her composure. 

"Wait, so you have been responding to enemy attacks instead of attacking?" George was incredulous when she heard that. 

"That's the bitter fact, Ms. George, we can only attack their fleets that try to destroy the trade routes or when they build outposts on some islands that are quite far from being monitored... They're like ghosts." Ping Hai whispered at the last mention. 

"This is bad, I don't have any weapons that can be used at close range, and all my planes are in the enemy's previous positions.." George seemed to be starting to show a bit of panic. 

Ping Hai smiled a little before finally patting George's shoulder, making George look in her direction. 

"It's okay, Miss George, I'll be your shield, let's focus on escaping first." Ping Hai said in a fairly firm tone, something George didn't know Ping Hai could do. 

"But, your current state-" George's words were cut off as Ping Hai's body glowed which made George close her eyes. 

When George saw that Ping Hai had used her rigging, Ping Hai continued to smile. "In the end we are weapons, Miss George, feelings are just a liability to us, we were created by humans to be weapons for them, right?"

At that look, George thought in disbelief. She didn't know that a girl as innocent as Ping Hai had a gaze like a person who is ready to die at any time, did the shipgirls get mistreated? Or is this just the mentality that they are used to because of bad times? 

George shook her head before finally holding both of Ping Hai's shoulders. "I can't forbid you, but I ask you to be careful, okay? Your sister is waiting for you."

Ping Hai softened her smile. "Of course Miss George, I'm not thinking of dying today, hehe."

Ping Hai walked out of the ship's platform and jumped into the ocean. George watched with a tense gaze, before being relieved as Ping Hai skated effortlessly on the surface of the water.

Ping Hai dodged the shots from several Siren warships and returned their fire with shots from her cannons. She launched several torpedoes that went straight into one of the closest Siren Ships in the form of a Destroyer. The torpedoes that Ping Hai launched were armed and hit the Destroyer directly in the hull, sinking the Siren ship. 

Several Anti-ship Cruise Missiles launched from George's F-35 aircraft supported Ping Hai which now had to maneuver between the slowly sinking Siren ships to avoid the many plasma shells raining around her. 

Suddenly as George was about to launch the next wave of attacks, George heard a sound like a high-speed train falling from the sky and one by one the Siren Ships were hit by some sort of projectile falling from the sky, breaking them in half. 

"What the hell was that?" George asked in astonishment. 

"Ping Hai! Retreat and return to my ship!" George ordered over the open channel radio. 

"Understood, Ms. George!" Ping Hai dodged an explosion from one of the Siren Ships that was hit by a projectile falling from the sky. 

All the Siren Warships that appeared through the Portal had been cleared out by whatever was attacking them with long-range strikes. 

George then saw several propeller-driven fighters, blue in color and bearing the US Naval Aviation insignia. The type of fighter was the F4U Corsair. 

George ordered her F-35s that carry air-to-air missiles to approach the Corsairs, but it seemed that George was panicking them as the Corsairs tried to dodge and retreat. 

"Hmm... I sense the presence of some ships in the East, but why don't they have a ship in front of the formation?" George asked in confusion. 

Ping Hai, who had just returned from a short battle, arrived on the bridge of George's ship. "Miss George! What just happened?"

"It seems that the Azur Lane you are referring to has arrived as our reinforcements."George said looking towards the East with a doubtful gaze. 

"Is that so?! Thank Goodness, I don't know if I can fight much longer, I was just lucky to sink one ship and damage a few others, I'm still injured and also... I am an outdated ship." Ping Hai said while bowing her head after saying the last one... 

George stroked Ping Hai's head. "It's okay little one, you are still great even though you are outdated, I know your country must be proud to have you and your sister."

Ping Hai smiled and enjoyed George's head stroking. "Thank you, Miss George..."

A few minutes passed and the Siren ships did not reappear through the portal, enough for George to let out a sigh of relief. 

George then slowly turned her ship until she and Ning Hai's ship were heading towards the Azur Lane Fleet that had assisted them earlier. Several Corsairs continued to monitor from the sky and there were several other aircraft that had also arrived to join the Corsair horde. 

It wasn't a long journey and George had to rub her eyes many times, making sure hisher eyes and sensor devices weren't malfunctioning, but unfortunately or fortunately they weren't at all. What George saw was a recently (the last time she remember) retired Zumwalt-class Stealth Destroyer that had entered the Ghost Fleet on Mare Island a few months before she was sunk by the Directorate. 

The Tumblehome-designed ship was truly a sight to behold after a long day of wandering in this New World. Her ears were ringing slightly, it seemed that Zumwalt was trying to communicate through the communication channel that the US Fleet usually used. 

"This is Zumwalt, are you really Bush?" A melodic and mature voice was clearly heard... 

"This is Bush... Zumwalt, it seems that we have different fates but different ways." George replied with a faint smile. 

"Yeah, sorry I couldn't help you back then." Zumwalt's voice sounded regretful. 

"Long story Zumwalt, we'll continue later... Did you bring a party?" George glanced at a Destroyer sailing quite close to Zumwalt. 

"A party with famous people from our home world, they're superstar, Bush." Zumwalt said. 

"Understood, I will enter your formation... Could one or two of your Vanguards take turns towing this cruiser behind me? I swear this girl is pretty heavy." George said. 

"Understood, I'll tell Sandy and Francis... Hey Bush, I'm glad you're here." Zumwalt said.

"It's also nice to have a friend in this strange world too." George then cut the communication. 

Two cruisers from the Azur Lane Fleet appeared to be sailing at high speed and close to George. George and Ping Hai could see a gray-haired girl waving her hand excitedly towards George, George waved back awkwardly. 

George let go of the rope she was using to tow Ning Hai, making the ship sway for a moment. The two cruisers appeared to take George's place to tow the Ning Hai. George continued to sail and did not change her course. 

Zumwalt and the others immediately took a full starboard turn and recreated the formation, now with George at the very center of Sandy and Francisco towing the Ning Hai at the back of the formation. 

The hour-long journey passed without too much happening. They had now entered Pearl Harbor, a special sector for shipgirls. 

All the personnel and shipgirls were in the harbor, initially making repairs to the harbor, but they heard that the Quick Reaction Fleet had just rescued their allies on the high seas and were now waiting in the harbor along with ambulances and medical teams. 

When the Fleet appeared on the horizon, everyone was shocked and amazed to see a huge Aircraft Carrier behind the Zumwalt. The Super Aircraft Carrier seemed to have to be pushed by four tugs to maneuver in the harbor. The huge ship then docked close to the USS Arizona which was being desperately repaired by the Engineers. 

"For God's sake, what kind of ship is that?"

"She's Bigger than Enterprise..."

"Someone call Admiral Nimitz and General Maxwell!"

Chaos broke out as curious people and rumors spread like wildfire. Wales had also just arrived in her own Rolls-Royce, she looked at the huge ship and thought. 

"Incredible... This ship alone could have changed the course of the war if used properly." Wales thought as she photographed the ship with her camera. 

Several engineers and workers immediately set to work when they saw that the Ning Hai needed repairs. Meanwhile, the Medical Team waited below for the shipgirl. 

George and Ping Hai descended from the ladder of the ship that George had. Two medical robots carried Ning Hai, who was still unconscious, on a stretcher. At the bottom, the two robots immediately handed Ning Hai over to the waiting medical team, after which they climbed back onto the ship, making the people who had seen them a little dumbfounded, real robots that moved and did not try to actively kill humans. 

"Ping Hai, you accompany your sister, okay? I'll take care of everything here." George said stroking Ping Hai's head. 

"Umu, thank you very much, Ms. George, we will definitely repay you someday!" Ping Hai rushed after the ambulance where her sister was taken by the medical team earlier. 

George nodded her head when she saw the scene, then she saw a woman with long pale blonde hair and about 180cm tall maybe? George did not know. 

The woman smiled and stuck out her hand, George immediately shook the woman's hand firmly. 

"Welcome to Pearl Harbor, sorry if it's a little chaotic." The woman said. 

"I've seen worse. The name is George, USS George H.W. Bush, the last of the Nimitz Class aircraft carriers. Nice to meet you." George introduced herself. 

"George, eh? My name is Nevada, USS Nevada, temporary leader of the United States Shipgirl Corps, nice to meet you too... Say, you're a pretty big girl." Nevada glanced at George's ship that was swarming with curious people. 

"What can I do, Nevada? Uncle Sam needs big ships to show dominance in the seas, even if that dominance has to be trampled by the Directorate." George's face, which was originally quite friendly and had a smile on it, was now full of anger and whining. 

"I heard the full story from Zumwalt, your world is really harsh, at least there's no Alien Invasion, huh?" Nevada joked. 

George laughed, much to Nevada's surprise as Nevada thought she would get angry at the joke, but it turned out that George was not like that. George replied. "Yeah, there's no Alien Invasion, not as far as I'm concerned of course and I'm a Nuclear Carrier."

Nevada then looked behind her followed by George, there was Admiral Nimitz and General Maxwell with Cleveland beside him. 

Nevada smiled. "George, this is Admiral Nimitz, as of today he is the overall Commander of the American Fleet in the Pacific."

"Admiral Nimitz, it's a pleasure to meet you, your legacy lives on for the next hundred years." Said George who was happy to meet the man who became the Namesake of her eldest sister, USS Nimitz. 

"I should be happy, Miss... Bush? Sorry, it's not every day you get to see a ship from the future come here." Nimitz said with a bitter laugh. 

"It's okay, Admiral." George said. 

"Well, George, this one is General Maxwell of the 25th Infantry Division." Nevada this time introduced the man in the Army officer's uniform. 

"Nice to meet you General." George smiled politely. 

General Maxwell grinned as he nodded his head. "Also with you girl, you don't know how excited I am to hear the news of a new large modern ship coming here."

"We'd better take this meeting to a more private place." Nimitz said seeing quite a few people gathered. 

"Agreed, Admiral." Maxwell nodded his head. 

They then went to one of the large buildings in the KAN-SEN sector, the Administration Building which also served as an officer's office. Zumwalt also headed straight there after being informed by the people from the port. 

Imperial Japanese Navy South Main Base, Chuuk Lagoon, South Pacific. 

Prinz Eugen, the shipgirl assigned as the liaison between Germany and Japan, was seen lying in the hospital with her whole body bandaged. Either a day or two had passed since the American massacre. At that time Eugen was leading one of Siren's troops that was going to occupy Oahu, but  was hit by an attack that came from nowhere, not only that, several American shipgirls managed to hunt her who was practically dying and fortunately she managed to escape with the help of other German shipgirls who were with her. 

This defeat was very humiliating for Prinz Eugen personally as well as the entire Kriegsmarine, just a few months ago their flagship, Bismarck, was almost sunk and in a dying condition and now their Pacific Fleet was battered by the American Navy which had been attacked earlier by the Japanese, what a shame. 

In front of Eugen, there was a screen showing the Bismarck's face which was all bandaged up except for the eyes, mouth and nose. 

"You look like dog shit, Eugen." Bismarck said. 

"I could say the same for you, Herr Bismarck." Eugen spat back.

"So can you tell me what happened to our Pacific Division?" Asked Bismarck with a sharp gaze. 

"Oh I don't know, how did we start with... Not starting a war with America? Yeah, I guess that's one way to avoid all this." Eugen replied sarcastically. 

"Eugen, I'm serious." Bismarck said with annoyance. 

"Oh I'm serious too Bismarck, after all why would you agree to this order? The ones who attacked were the Japanese, why should we join in?" Asked Eugen. 

"To show our solidarity and commitment in the Axis Faction, We are not abandoning our allies." Bismarck replied.

"You didn't read the latest reports that our spies and satellites get, do you? They found American shipyards full of ships under construction, thousands of young Americans enlisted into the Military because of this attack, we just awaken a Dragon, Bismarck." Eugen said seriously even though she had to endure the pain of the wound on her body. 

"Then we will become Saint George and slay the Dragon, Eugen, why are you showing hesitation now? I didn't see that hesitation when you helped me sink the Hood." Bismarck said, her gaze cold. 

"Yes, because I'm not a murderer! You're the one who killed the Hood and you're trying to pin that on me, but we know the truth, you killed Hood, not me!" Eugen shouted angrily but there was disappointment in her voice. 

"Eugen, stop thinking illogically and selfishly, this is all for the good of the Third Reich." Bismarck tried to reason with Eugen. 

"No, you're doing this all for recognition, you don't care a bit about the German people, you're just like the Nazi officials." Eugen spat back. 

"Take that back, Eugen! I have always fought for the German people and not the Nazis." Bismarck tried to dodge Eugen accusations. 

"Oh yeah? Then what about the other shipgirls who disagree with you? Like me? I know you send all of us who disagree with you away from the affairs of state... Like you appointed that little brat as your new assistant and then dumped me just like that." The veins in Eugen's head popped.

"Brat? You mean Odin? Eugen, making Odin our assistant and strategist is logical, she even beat you in the War Games before you went to the Pacific, I'm just taking logical action for the sake of Germany's glory." Bismarck's voice seemed to be rising. 

"You support genocide, asshole! We were built to protect Humanity, or is it the Aryans?" Eugen asked angrily and it seemed to have an immediate effect on Bismarck. 

"I do not support Genocide! I just... I just..." Bismarck seemed to realize what she was about to say. 

"You remember Piorun? She was the first and last Polish shipgirl, you killed her in cold blood, you tore her body apart and you stuck her head on your flagpole, have you forgotten? That was the night before you almost died, Bismarck... You are a murderer and nothing can change that." Eugen then ordered aide, who is a Siren Soldier to turn off the screen. 

Eugen sighed harshly before finally lying back down, she had thought about all this and she was sure that the moment she set foot in Germany, she would definitely become a fugitive or even worse be killed outright, but she would not regret it because she, Eugen, did not support Genocide or whatever the Nazis wanted.

Queen Elizabeth's office, Northwood HQ, United Kingdom. 

A little girl with blonde hair and dressed like royalty was seen sitting in a chair reading the papers piled up in front of her. 

"The flames of war in the Pacific seem to have been ignited, it's only a matter of time until the American Navy is unleashed in the Atlantic." Muttered the little girl, the radio in her cupboard was playing a speech from President Franklin Delano Roosevelt of America. 

"Excuse me, my Lady, this is Warspite. I have a report from Wales, she sent a telegram message over the emergency channel." Said a young but firm voice from behind the door. 

Elizabeth, who was thinking to herself, immediately broke her reverie when she heard that. "Please come in."

A young girl who looked quite similar to Elizabeth but kinda had dog ears, entered the room. 

"My Lady." Warspite made a curtsy before Elizabeth. 

"Enough pleasantries, my sister Warspite, now give me the report from Wales." Elizabeth said putting down the paper she had been holding. 

"My Lady, first of all, Wales, Repulse and their escort left Singapore as per your orders, Lieutenant General Arthur Ernest Percival has also withdrawn from the Malayan peninsula and Singapore is fully stocked with explosives, civilians have also been evacuated." Warspite read out the report from Wales.

"Civilians... Tell me the definition of 'Civilian'? Is it only civilians of British descent? Or does it include natives of Malaya?" Elizabeth asked with a narrowed eye. 

"...You should know the answer to your question, my Lady." Warspite replied with a sigh and turned her face away. 

"Disappointing indeed, but what can we do, right? What about the other reports?" Elizabeth asked. 

"Uhmm this might be a bit surprising, I don't know if it's a translation error or what, but according to Wales, the Americans have just acquired two powerful new warships." Said Warspite, this time already wearing her glasses. 

"Powerful warships? Has the Iowa been launched yet? Why didn't I get this report earlier?" Elizabeth scowled. 

"Not the Iowa, my Lady, the ship Wales is referring to is a type of Super Cruiser that has advanced weaponry, just like the Siren perhaps." Warspite continued. 

"Advanced weaponry resembling that of the Siren itself... Did the Americans play rogue and not tell us? I wouldn't be surprised if that were the case, we ourselves kept quiet during the PR Ship project and our MBT development two years ago... But I know Lexington and Enterprise, they hate Sirens as much as Nazis hate Jews or non-Aryans. Warspite, please send a message to Wales and tell them to continue monitoring, don't do anything rash." Elizabeth said in a firm tone. 

"Understood, Your Majesty!" Warspite immediately hurriedly left. 

Elizabeth stood up and walked to her closet, she then changed the broadcast of her radio, from the latest news from the United States to a channel that broadcast opera music. Elizabeth smiled and went back to her paperwork. 

Le Havre, France occupied by Nazi Germany. 

10 December 1941.

0900.

Sheffield, a Royal Navy shipgirl and maid hiding in a house near the port of Le Havre. She has dyed her originally white hair to blonde and wears blue contact lenses, making her look like an Aryan or German woman. 

Beside her was Devonshire who was taking picture from the window where they were hiding. They were both assigned by Queen Elizabeth herself to spy on the enemy's movements which were becoming more aggressive by the day. On the road outside were hundreds of Leopard 1 MBT tanks, Tiger 1 heavy tanks and other vehicles belonging to Nazi Germany that were travelling to enter their respective transport ships. Not only their tanks were Sheffield and Devonshire's concern, accompanying the tanks were hundreds of Wehrmacht soldiers and a five-metre robot with a box-like shape. 

"Bloody hell, this is an invasion." Sheffield swore. 

"Do we have to retreat, Sheffy? This is getting a little dangerous for us." Devonshire scowled, but continued to shoot with her camera.

"Yes, we must retreat, it is impossible for us to continue at this rate." Sheffield nodded her head. The two of them immediately rushed to clear up all their equipment in the room. 

When they were done, they went their separate ways so that the Gestapo or SS patrolling for spies would not find them. Sheffield let out a small sigh before she finally felt her hairs rise. She felt a huge killing aura from behind her. 

"Well well well, looks like I found the rat in question." A female English voice with a thick German accent sounded from behind Sheffield. 

Sheffield looked back and saw a woman with short blonde hair with a red hue, dressed in all black and had brown eyes that looked blank. 

"...I know you." Sheffield felt that her day could not get any more unlucky than this. 

"Of course the Royal Navy rats know me, I am Death to you." The woman grinned so widely, Sheffield thought that the woman tore her own cheek. 

"Roon, The Priority Ship." Sheffield muttered in a cold sweat. 

The woman named Roon immediately darted towards Sheffield which made Sheffield put up the martial arts stance that was taught to her in the past. Roon threw a hard punch at Sheffield, she immediately dodged the punch and hit Roon in the stomach, but Sheffield felt pain in her hand when she hit Roon's stomach. 

"What the?!"

Roon laughed like a madwoman and kicked Sheffield causing the Light Cruiser to be knocked away and hit the wall of the building. Sheffield groaned in pain. 

"Damn it... Looks like I broke a few ribs. Gotta run." Sheffield ran off, leaving behind Roon who seemed to be getting more and more annoyed. 

"Royal Navy rat! Come here! Let me tear you apart and feed your remains to my dog!" Roon chased after Sheffield with murderous intent. 

"This woman is crazy! But no Ironblood is sane anyway." Sheffield muttered as she bumped into some Wehrmacht soldiers who were hanging out, they looked confused. 

Sheffield glanced back and saw Roon who continued to chase after her, this time with her rigging that had already come out with Ironblood's signature shape. Sheffield continued to run until she was finally faced with a wall. 

"Where's the little mouse going?!?" Roon continued to cut the distance between them. 

"This is going to really hurt tomorrow." Sheffield continued to mutter before finally increasing her running speed and crashing into the wall at high speed, creating a hole that she could run through. Roon continued to chase, not even stopping to watch as the light cruiser smashed through the wall. 

Sheffield saw the seawater in front of her and immediately jumped, at the same time her rigging materialised. 

Roon also wanted to jump after Sheffield, but suddenly there were many explosions happening at various points in Le Havre, not only at the harbour, but at various points in the city. Roon looked confused as black smoke billowed high into the sky, when she wanted to look towards Sheffield again, the light cruiser had disappeared like a ghost. 

"Verdammt!"

... 

.... 

..... 

...... 

"Did you manage to do it?"

"Do what, sister?"

"Don't play dumb with me, did you manage to make sure no more Ships from the modern Timeline come to this world?"

"Oh? That was it... I've made sure for now there won't be any unknown variables appearing..."

"Why did you stop? And what do you mean 'for now'?"

"Don't cut me off while talking. Before I finished locking this World's access, there were some soul ships from the same world as Z and George sent here, so there are at least some unknown variables that will appear. Be on your guard."

"What about the other one?"

"I can't lock this world down completely, only the Arbiters or Zero can do that. Remember, I'm just an Observer."

"We'll just have to let it all happen in the end, huh?"

"Yup, after all, it could be an interesting world, like the one where Enterprise becomes a Nun and for some obscure reason has great power and makes her world can't be accessed by us..."

".... How come I just found out that such a world exists?"

"The others and I deliberately didn't talk about it too much, we got beat up by that Enterprise while she was reciting the Bible."

"That's... Something, can I see it?"

"Sure, it's in the Memory Room, just look for the Nun Enterprise."

"Okay."

"Now... The Germans are going to try to conduct Operation Sealion, the Japanese are fortifying all their colonies, the African Campaign is in a stalemate and the Soviets are having internal conflicts. It's a really, really interesting world."

Ping... Ping... Ping... 

"Hmm? What is this? This is... The same signal as a Nimitz-class shipgirl arriving to this world.... Oh no, please it's not what I thought- Oh, it's what I thought."

The figure in the darkness ruffled her hair then pressed the hologram button in front of her. 

"Warning, Warning, Warning to all Units in the world GHSTFLT-90, we detected a Virginia-class Nuclear-powered Cruise Missile Fast Attack Submarine in your area. Identification, USS John Warner SSN-774. Mission : Search and destroy. Whatever the cost."

TBC

Chapter Text

Joint Base Hickam-Pearl Harbor, Oahu, Hawaii.

Evening.

Zumwalt let out a long sigh as she held Laffey. They had just finished a meeting with Admiral Nimitz, General Maxwell, and the leaders of the newly arrived American Shipgirls Nevada, Enterprise, and Lexington. The meeting was about George and their future assignments.

It was decided that George would sail to Africa, which was at her own request. She thought it was better for their forces to be divided, as George had heard that Nazi Germany and Italy had air dominance. It was better if she alone took care of the Africa Campaign with the Task Force that was being assembled.

The woman she was referring to stood beside her, yawning quite widely. George glanced at Zumwalt. "Already adopted a child after a few days here, Z?"

"She's been clinging to me since we first met. I thought it would be nice to have a friend, so I let her." Zumwalt said while shaking her head.

"Interesting. Do you think I'll adopt one, too?" Asked George jokingly.

"Hmm? I thought you already did that with those RoC girls." Zumwalt said with bewilderment.

"Ah... Them... I'm still not sure. You know that their country in the future sunk me and killed a lot of my crew?" George's eyes darkened.

"The past is the past, George. We can change destiny in this world. Like making sure that the Republic of China doesn't become the People's Republic of China. We can bring change to this world, George!" Zumwalt said, trying to calm George down.

"I think you have a point, Z. Well... I think I can try to do it. What are your plans for the future?" Asked George, looking up at the sea of stars in the sky. For near urban areas, the night sky here was very beautiful.

"I don't know. Maybe I'll stay here and serve here." Zumwalt smiled softly while stroking the head of Laffey, who was still asleep.

"You have no intention of going home? Maybe this Siren can help us find our way home." George seemed a little displeased with Zumwalt's endgame plan.

"Even if we successfully return to our home world, George, what will happen to us? Do we stay human or revert to ship form? You are more valuable and valued by our government, George. I am not!" Zumwalt was now shouting.

George was silent and owned every word of Zumwalt. She realized that what Zumwalt was saying was true. What if she returned to her ship form in the Pacific Ocean? George was also a little sad and offended when she heard Zumwalt's words, but she knew that Zumwalt was right... What would the world say if two modern ships that had been rumored lost and sunk suddenly returned in human form? Chaos would surely ensue.

".... I'm sorry, Z... I completely forgot about you and only thought about myself." George said regretfully.

"It's okay... I also understand why you want to go back. Like I said, you are valuable, I'm not, simple as that." Zumwalt sighed harshly. 

George decided to keep quiet after hearing that, she was really quite sorry for saying that to the only person who was her friend and knew her. 

"...If you'll excuse me, Z, I want to visit Ping Hai and Ning Hai." George said quietly. 

"Go ahead, I apologize too if I yelled at you earlier, I don't seem to be getting enough sleep." Zumwalt smiled wryly. 

"No, I should be the one apologizing... We keep apologizing huh." George scratched the back of her head. 

"Hahaha Yeah... See you George." Zumwalt walked away while carrying Laffey. 

George looked at Zumwalt before finally leaving for the hospital. At least their feud had ended here. 

General Maxwell's office, Schofield Barracks. 

Cleveland stretched her aching body and let out a long sigh, being the new secretary and liaison between the Navy and the Army was hard work, but she hoped that it would be worth the investment. 

General Maxwell who was also there nodded his head in satisfaction as he saw Cleveland's performance for the day was quite satisfactory. "Good job son, you got through the day quite well."

"Thank you General sir. Miss George's arrival also added a bit of trouble to deal with, but thankfully we were able to resolve it relatively quickly... It's a pity she was sent to the African Camp, huh?" Cleveland said as she took a sip of the coffee on her desk. 

"You could say that, it would be great to have air dominance from a Super Carrier, but we're in a position where we can't ask for too much, thankfully Zumwalt is willing to stay here and fight with us." General Maxwell said as he shrugged his shoulders. 

"Right... Then, if you'll excuse me, General." Cleveland finished packing and picked up the white robe she usually wore on the coat hanger. 

"Be careful on the road, Cleveland, we don't know what will happen." Maxwell nodded his head towards Cleveland. 

Cleveland smiled at Maxwell before heading out. Cleveland let out a long sigh and looked at her motorcycle waiting in the parking lot. 

Cleveland immediately got on her motorcycle and rode to Honolulu, she wanted to relax a bit after dealing with the papers. 

After a few minutes of traveling by motorcycle, Cleveland arrived at one of the most popular bars in Oahu, known as the Angel Bar. 

Having parked her motorcycle in the parking lot, Cleveland was about to walk into the bar but she stopped when she saw Walker, Cleveland's crush, drinking beer straight from the bottle outside. Cleveland automatically went up to her. 

"Walker, fancy seeing you here." Cleveland smiled with a blush on her cheeks. 

"Same to you, Cleve, these last few days have been a real mess, eh?" Walker offered Cleveland one of the nearby beer bottles. 

Cleveland accepted the bottle and opened it, then Cleveland downed the liquor. "So, why do you drink outside and not inside?"

"I don't want to lose your appetite, too much vomit and cum, I swear these lunatics can't hold their dick." Walker replied with a shudder. 

"Too much for a Marine?" Cleveland smiled at the thought but was disgusted at the thought. 

"I'm not as crazy as they are, Cleve. Not by a long shot. Also, it looks like there was a bar fight in there, probably an Army private who lost a bet with another Marine." Walker chuckled. 

True to his word, Cleveland heard the sounds of commotion from inside the Angel Bar, with some even flying out of the windows from being thrown. 

"At first I wanted to ask why they were getting so wild, but I decided not to ask too deeply... How was your night, Walker?" Asked Cleveland who was sitting next to Walker, quite close.

"It's not so bad, but it gets better when I have a beautiful woman with me." Walker's laughter made Cleveland blush. 

"Stop teasing me!"

"Hahaha sorry sorry sorry, Cleve... Can this be a substitute for our failed date because of the Japanese attack and Siren?" Walker looked deeply into Cleveland's beautiful ruby eyes. 

Cleveland continued to blush, but decided to speak. "O-Of course, why not? I also happen to be pretty free tonight."

"Alright then." Walker stood up, leaving Cleveland a little confused. Walker smiled and said. "You don't want your first date in front of a bar, do you?"

"Come to think of it, there's some truth in what you said, Walker... Alright, where are we going?" Cleveland also stood up as she continued to drink beer from her bottle. 

"Hmm... How about near the park adjacent to your base? I heard there's a steakhouse nearby. You like meat, right?" Asked Walker with concern. 

Cleveland chuckled. "Anywhere as long as it's with you, Walker."

"Decided then... By the way you brought a motorcycle, right?" Walker smiled awkwardly. 

"I did bring the bike, why, Walker?" Cleveland asked in confusion. 

"Oh no, I just happened to be here with my colleagues, so I don't have to be afraid of leaving them behind, come on, Cleve." Walker extended his hand to Cleveland. 

Cleveland with flushed cheeks took Walker's hand and they walked to the parking lot hand in hand. 

..... 

Officers' quarters, USS Enterprise. 

Enterprise sighed deeply, she had changed into her pajamas and was sitting on her bed. She was currently busy reading the book that George had given her during the meeting this afternoon. 

George... Enterprise thought while looking at the cover of the book given by the Super Aircraft Carrier from the future of another world. 

This book is a summary of the way modern Aircraft Carriers conduct military operations, from the composition of the Strike Force to the battles that Aircraft Carriers conduct in modern conflicts. It really opens up the Enterprise's mind to a whole new level. 

"The modern world is really quite horrible, there is no need for close quarters battles between ships with big guns anymore, now it seems that our world is going in that direction... The question is can the Shipgirls adapt?" Asked Enterprise to no one in particular. 

Enterprise looked at the cover of the book once again, if according to the book she read, it was the Modern version of herself, USS Enterprise CVN-65. According to the book, the modern version of herself was providing air support to Operation Praying Mantis. 

"Looks like I'll have to work a little harder to stay relevant." Enterprise then closed the book she was reading and turned off the reading light and fell asleep.

USS Zumwalt. 

December 11, 1941.

Zumwalt smiles as she fries rice with Laffey helping to chop the onions. Zumwalt looked at Laffey. "Are you done, Laffey?"

"Yup... Is there anything else I can help you with?" Laffey asked sleepily. 

Zumwalt smiled while shaking her head. "No need dear, you just sit there and I'll do the rest."

"Can I watch your Tablet again?" Laffey looked at Zumwalt expectantly. 

"Of course sweetie, but don't watch too closely, okay?" Zumwalt stroked Laffey's head. 

Laffey nodded her head and went to the dining table. Zumwalt then continued cooking while humming a little, she then felt a few people climb into her hull, she decided to let it happen since she already knew who was coming. 

A few minutes later just as she had finished frying the rice, some people Zumwalt knew entered the galley. At the front was San Francisco with her usual grin, followed by Sandy, Javelin, Hornet, Enterprise and George. 

"Miss Zummy! Good morning!" Francis said cheerfully. 

"Morning to you too Francis, how did you sleep last night?" Zumwalt continued to smile. 

"Absolutely marvelous! I now understand how good sleep is." Francis said with a little exaggeration. 

"You are so over the top, Francis." Sandy shook her head with a giggle. 

"What can I say? It was one of my best sleeps since the Japanese invasion here, you can't get that in moments like this!" Francis said while waving her hand around. 

Sandy and Francis continued to argue about a number of things including the products that women use during their period. Meanwhile, Javelin stared at the two of them with a resigned look. 

Enterprise and Hornet, who were the first to arrive, looked at every corner of Zumwalt's galley with interested eyes. 

"This place is quite spacious, Zumwalt." Enterprise complimented while nodding her head. 

"Hahaha of course, I'm quite proud of this place." Zumwalt laughed. 

"Shall I help you, Miss Zumwalt?" Hornet asked and walked towards where Zumwalt was cooking. 

"Ah there's no need really, but I think I'll be a bit overwhelmed if you don't help me." Zumwalt smiled in embarrassment. 

"Hahaha it's okay, Miss Zumwalt! We should be able to depend on others even a little." While saying that Hornet glanced at Enterprise who seemed to be the impromptu referee between Francis and Sandy's argument. 

"Is Enty that bad?" Zumwalt asked curiously. 

"Oh you don't know the full story, I'm just glad she's changed and cares more about herself, maybe it's because she's been on vacation lately." Hornet said as she shook her head, but smiled. 

"From what you've said, she seems to be a pretty stiff person, but why is she so... Random now?" This time it was the turn of George, who had been with Hornet all along, to speak up. 

"Oh! Miss George! I didn't see you earlier... The change in attitude was also a big question for me and Brother Yorky, but we decided not to question it too much further, because... We both really like this Enterprise." Hornet smiled sincerely.

"Well if you don't question it, then neither do we. Please help lift this and that." Zumwalt then gave directions on what items to bring to the dining table. 

With the help of Hornet and George, everything was done relatively quickly. They all ate breakfast together with occasional chit-chat. When they finished Zumwalt's excellent breakfast, they seemed to be discussing something with each girl getting a cup of coffee or tea, they were also given VIZ glasses and Tablets containing a collection of information. 

"Alright, I'll start the briefing now." Zumwalt nodded her head, signaling everyone to put on their VIZ glasses. 

The other shipgirls who already understood how VIZ worked easily followed Zumwalt's directions. Only Hornet and Enterprise did not know how to use the VIZ. Five minutes passed just to teach Hornet and Enterprise how to activate the glasses. 

Once they understood the basics, the briefing began. Zumwalt stood up and faced them all. "As you know, just a few days ago President Franklin Roosevelt declared war on the Empire of Japan, with declarations of war from Nazi Germany and Fascist Italy following... Our task now is to conduct an air strike on..." Zumwalt snapped her fingers and instantly the view of the entire room changed as if they were in mid-air, Hornet and Enterprise seemingly shocked at this development. 

They were then seems to 'fly' to the top of a huge city. Zumwalt continued her presentation. "Tokyo, and the surrounding cities, but we will focus on the area around here and here." Several red dots appeared. 

"We will depart as a Task Force with the Task Force of Mass production ships led by Admiral William Halsey Jr. As a supporting element. Girls, it's about time we demoralized those damn Japanese." Zumwalt showed an illustration of the battle created using AI and the data she had. 

"This is just for reference, so don't rely too much on this animation, I want you to be able to adapt as much as possible on the battlefield because there, there is no such thing as a perfect plan. I'm asking Enterprise to be the leader of Operation this time." Zumwalt signaled Enterprise to stand up. 

All the other Shipgirls immediately looked at Enterprise with expectant gazes. Enterprise swallowed deeply. She then said. "Everyone... I am Happy to lead you all to Victory and getting you back home at one piece."

Enterprise then stood up. "As Zumwalt said, we'll make a surprise attack on Tokyo, causing as much chaos as we can. For this Operation, George can come with us as she will be transferred to the Mediterranean after this... Back to context, this operation was suggested by Lt. Col. James Howard Doolittle during a Staff meeting a few days ago, two days after the Japanese attack on Pearl. He will fly a B-25 from the deck of the Carrier one of the Yorktown class mass production ships. Our job of course is to assist him and his crews ensuring this mission is a great success, especially since enemy Shipgirls will likely be on the battlefield, not only Japanese shipgirls but also Sirens. Well, that's more or less the plan for this operation, we sail silently to the Japanese mainland, bombard them as much and as chaotically as we can, then flee back into the mist. Any questions?" Asked Enterprise finished her rather abrupt presentation.

Sandy seemed to raise her hand. "I actually have a few questions, but I'm sure we'll all get a paper with the details, right?"

"That's right Sandy, you'll get a paper with the full details of this Operation, I'll hand it out after this briefing is over." Zumwalt helped Enterprise answer. 

Enterprise nodded her head in appreciation of Zumwalt's intervention. "That's it for this briefing, the date of this operation is December 26, the midnight after Christmas. Other reports regarding this matter will continue to be submitted to your colleagues. That's all for today's briefing." Zumwalt snapped her fingers and they all returned to Zumwalt's galley. 

All the shipgirls then continued to discuss the upcoming major operation. Javelin said with a clumsy smile. "I didn't think I would be able to sail with you all, I had thought that Miss Wales would send me back to Europe."

"Hey J, you're one of the best close and medium range fighters I know on this Base, as Enterprise said, most Japanese Shipgirls use a close combat style, so you'll really come in handy this Operation." Zumwalt said encouragingly to Javelin. 

Enterprise nodded her head. "It's true what Zumwalt said, they use the Katana Sword as one of their main weapons, it's just that you have to be careful, they will definitely send their strongest fighters to defeat us."

"I'll do my best! Miss Zummy! May I borrow this VIZ to the Recreation Room?" Javelin asked Zumwalt. 

"Sure. You want to practice fighting Samurai, huh?" Zumwalt said with a small smile. 

"Yes! It would be easier if I knew how they fight, I may be a Destroyer, but I'll show you why we're named that way!" Javelin said with burning enthusiasm. 

"We're in." Sandy and Francis said as they stood up at the same time. 

The three of them then ran away, watched by the dumbfounded Enterprise and Hornet. George herself just shook her head at this. 

Southern Main Base of the Imperial Japanese Navy, Chuuk Lagoon, South Pacific. 

Eugen sighed harshly as one of the Siren Soldiers who was her adjutant unwrapped the bandage on her stomach wound. 

"Slow down asshole." Eugen said. 

The cursed soldier just shut up and continued it work, it was a little difficult for The Soldier, because the hand factor of the Siren Soldiers was reptile-like and had sharp nails, it was difficult to do this kind of work. There's a reason why the Siren use Incubation Pod for healing any of their Units. 

Eugen continued to endure the pain of having her bandages changed by the Soldier until finally the pain she felt was over. Eugen glanced behind her and there was a beautiful woman dressed in a white kimono and blue skirt, with short white hair and fox ears and tail. 

"Aircraft Carrier of the First Carrier Division, IJN Kaga, what business do you have here?" Eugen asked with a groan. 

"Nagato wanted me to make sure you didn't die, so she sent me here." Kaga replied in a short and cold tone. 

"So you're a guard dog for me? Not really a good fit, considering how far apart Dogs and Foxes are in the Animal Kingdom." Eugen replied with a sarcastic tone. 

"Answering like a smartass won't lead you to any victory, I'm surprised that you haven't been transferred by Bismarck to a more remote place yet." Kaga said walking towards Eugen. 

"Where? Antarctica? That's where Bismarck dumped her own sister when they had a fight, her hull ain't even finish yet but Bismarck cast her away, I'm not surprised, Bismarck is a psychopath." Eugen said while being helped to her feet by the Siren Soldier.

"Talking bad about your boss? You're wild, girl." Kaga sarcastically while her arms folded. 

"I don't care about her, she threw me and the old members of Ironblood away when many new Schiffsmädchen were launched, at first I was just as happy as she was because our strength increased, how surprised we were when she started sending us on missions far away from the Fatherland, we didn't think about it at first, but...." Eugen seemed to be silent while clenching her fists. 

"Why? Go on, I'm quite curious about whatever your story is." Kaga took one of the folding chairs and sat opposite Eugen. 

"When Bismarck killed Piorun and Hood, that's when Bismarck's image in our eyes changed, do you remember when we had the meeting with the Royal Navy? We made some kind of unwritten oath, that if we ever got into a battle, we wouldn't kill a fellow Schiffsmädchen, but Bismarck just did that to poor little Piorun..." Eugen's body seemed to tremble, the Siren Soldier who was Eugen's aide seemed to give Eugen a blanket to cover her body which was indeed currently Eugen was not wearing an upper shirt, her large chest was covered by a bandage placed by the Siren Soldier. 

"Thanks, can you get us some cold beer and snacks?" The Siren Soldier nodded It's head at the order and walked out. 

Kaga looked at the Siren Soldier who disappeared behind the door with a passive gaze, then she looked back at Eugen. "Your new Boyfriend?"

"Oh shut up! Anyway, what's with that attitude of yours? I don't remember it being like this!" Eugen had a scowl on her face. 

"That was Kaga three years ago, this is the new Kaga, a little battered but fine. Probably the influence of New York too." Kaga shrugged her shoulders lazily. 

"New York?" Eugen looked confused. 

"You don't know? Oh, of course you didn't know. I, along with several Shipgirls and officers of the Imperial Navy were ordered to go to America to study, both in the civilian and military departments, I personally chose and favored the civilian aspect." Kaga said relatively casually. 

"Wait, like college? And in America? When is this?" Eugen asked in astonishment. 

"Two years ago, more or less. It was my first time out of the Empire and it opened my eyes, I was one of those who refused to go to war with the Americans because I personally knew how powerful they were, Sleeping Giant, those were Admiral Yamamoto's words during the staff meeting before the attack on Pearl Harbor, but you know how that turned out? We were all humiliated and the Imperial Naval Aviation Force was either cut down or completely destroyed. The others are currently still in critical condition." Kaga said with a harsh sigh. 

"But you can already travel around." Eugen said in confusion. 

"I was being prioritized to use the Siren's Incubation Pod, that's why I can be here in front of you." Kaga said. 

"How does it feel to use that Pod?" Asked Eugen curiously. 

"It's very strange, especially the liquid they use, the texture is very strange... Fortunately the smell is not too disgusting, it's just that for a day after coming out of the Pod my body smells like Aloe Vera." Kaga said while shivering. 

Eugen listened carefully to the words of Kaga because in this Headquarters there were several Incubation Pods that had Siren given to the Imperial Navy to be used for research and healing of Shipgirls. There's a chance one day that she will use it. 

"So, what's the next step?" Eugen asked Kaga. 

"Honestly, I don't know, the Navy's main force is now trying to conquer the Dutch East Indies, but is having a surprisingly, difficulties." Kaga said while showing a hologram from a device as small as a pencil case. 

The hologram showed a map of the battle in the Dutch East Indies and its surroundings, the red mark was the ABDACOM forces and the blue was the Empire of Japan. 

"ABDACOM successfully repelled the Imperial Japanese Army from Sumatra? How is that possible?" Eugen asked in a tone of disbelief. 

"Hell if we know, what we know is that the 38th Infantry Division of the Imperial Army was repulsed after they successfully captured Djambi and Palembang, after which the Allied forces were suddenly able to turn the situation around and the Task Force led by Admiral Doorman managed to break the aid convoy there." Kaga answered with a grim tone.

"Scheisse, why did they suddenly become this strong?" Asked Eugen, again in astonishment. 

"There are several theories, one of which is that they use Siren technology." Kaga said while pointing towards Sumatra Island on the Hologram map. 

"That's it? No way, it took more than just high-level technology for them to turn the tide, there must be something else that caused their sudden victory. The only reason why our Wehrmacht can triumph against the Poles is that we have a well trained and well equipped soldiers." Eugen said in disbelief. 

"Want to find out? I'm looking for volunteers to sail there and provide more support." Kaga said offering to Eugen. 

"I'm in, when do we leave?" Eugen asked. 

"Tomorrow morning. We leave as soon as possible because one of our Submarines intercepted a conversation from the Commander of an Allied warship, they said they would strike Singapore and take it back." Kaga said while standing up. 

"Don't want to wait for the beer and snacks to arrive?" Eugen asked. 

"Oh I prefer Coca Cola and Pizza nowadays." Kaga replied too casually, before finally leaving. 

"Oh and also, additional information... They reported that before all that happened, they were sabotaged, I don't know by whom but the saboteur was like a ghost, just disappeared when trying to be chased." Kaga said throwing a Polaroid photo to Eugen. 

Eugen caught the photo and was surprised to see a Fuso-class mass-produced Battleship sunk off the coast of Java. It seemed that whoever did this was really very professional and it only looked like a human error. 

"Schreckgespenster, eh?" Eugen commented. 

.. 
... 
.... 

2 Kilometers from the Imperial Japanese Army Military Camp, Bangka Belitung Islands. 

Lieutenant Commander Duncan, a Florida-born American man seemed to sigh deeply, steam from the cold escaping from his mouth. He wondered if God hated him for the sins he had committed throughout his military career or if this was some kind of blessing bestowed upon him. 

As he was sleeping in his home in Florida, he suddenly woke up in a tropical jungle with all the members of the team he led during Operation Hawaiian Freedom and armed to the teeth. Not only that, but Lieutenant Nowak, the liaison between the Polish Navy and SEALS Team Six, was also with them. 

But that wasn't the only thing that surprised Duncan, there were two beautiful and sexy women who appeared with them. They both claimed to be the USS John Warner and Orzel respectively, Submarines from their old world. 

The confusion almost caused a fight between the two women who claimed to be a sunken warship and themselves, when suddenly a group of KNIL Soldiers appeared and shouted at them. 

Duncan chuckled as he remembered that moment three weeks ago, it had been so incredibly silly and crazy. Fortunately, the misunderstanding with ABDACOM had been resolved and they were now working under General Douglas MacArthur. 

"You're daydreaming again, Komandor." Said a short, shoulder-length blonde woman with sky-blue eyes, her Polish accent quite thick. 

"Orzel, no more borscht or smoked cheese?" Duncan asked jokingly. 

"You're always complaining about it when I brought you and your Team from the Baltic to the Pacific, it hurts me, Komandor." Said Orzel in a joking tone. 

"In my defense, the first three days of eating it were absolutely delicious, the rest? I miss eating Pizza with Pineapple." Replied Duncan with a crisp laugh. 

"Commander! Butter is in position!" Shouted one of his SEALS. 

"Admiral Doorman?" Duncan asked. 

"De Ruyter is ready for the firing mission along with the other ships, just a word from you, sir." Said the SEALS member. 

"Alright, spread this across the Communications channels. May they all die screaming. Start the music." Duncan grinned. 

Payback time, damn it.

.. 
.... 
..... 
........ 

"How can you not anticipate A Premier Special Forces from the Modern World appearing in this world as well?!"

"In my defense, you ordered me to anticipate Ships reincarnated as humans, not premier Special Forces."

"You're always making excuses! Fix this immediately! We can't let our experiments in this timeline be damaged by outside intervention, those damn Arbiters will be all over my ass."

"They already know about this?"

"Luckily I managed to block this information from reaching their ears, this is neither a permanent nor a long-term solution, we're just delaying the inevitable, we better try to fix it."

"How?"

"Offer them a way to return to their home world?"

"That might work, but we'll definitely have to go through Zero, she'll report directly to the Arbiters!"

"We're really getting into trouble after trouble... How much is our salary anyway?"

".... We get paid?"

"I don't know, I think our salaries are being corrupted again..."

".... Never mind, how are things going in Germany?"

"They have prepared more than 50,000 soldiers for Operation Sealion with thousands of tanks of various types and aircraft. They're using our mass-produced ships to blockade the Atlantic, making sure the Americans can't come to Britain's aid."

"Their level of technology?"

"Currently, Germany has begun operating the Leopard 1, Schutzenpanzer Lang HS.30, Fritz X medium range Cruise Missile, oh there are some Panavia Tornadoes that they developed with Italy, but the majority of German fighter aircraft today are ME-13s, you could say the German version of the MIG-23. And also their main Wehrmacht weapon is the FN FAL, for some obscure reason."

".... Crazy, we've had little influence and they've progressed this far? This is too much, we ain't even let them touch a bloody computer! All those weapons you mentioned existed in the 1970s! How can the Allies fight them?"

"Hmm the British are currently using a mix of weapons from World War II Era as well as the 70s, as for the Americans they are constantly developing and pumping as many war machines out of their factories as possible."

"Nukes... What about The Nukes?"

"As of now none of the Axis or Allied Powers are doing research into Nuclear weapons, but it seems that Japan has started to lean towards it as well as America, they are literally building nuclear powered aircraft carriers as we speak."

"Again crazy, just crazy."

"Want to do a reset?"

"...Continue, I want to see how the story ends."

"For the Glory of Mankind?"

"For the Glory of all Mankind."

TBC. 

Chapter Text

Joint Base Hickam-Pearl Harbor, Oahu, Hawaii. 

December 12, 1941.

Zumwalt looked at the Fleet about to set sail for the Dutch East Indies with an impressed gaze. Just a few days ago this place was a sea of fire, now they were already planning a counterattack on those bastards. In total there were about 65 mass-produced Warships that would sail with the Shipgirls under the command of Admiral Williams Halsey. 

In addition to the mass-produced Warships that would be sailing, there were several Shipgirls accompanying them. Enterprise, Hornet, San Francisco, San Diego, Javelin, Laffey, Prince Of Wales, Cleveland, Zumwalt and George are the Shipgirls that will be sent for now. 

Beside Zumwalt was Prince Of Wales who was drinking tea from her thermos. Zumwalt then said. "Everything happened so fast, eh? I was thinking that this is some bad joke by God."

"Creating Humans and Sirens in the first place is a bad joke, why make destructive creatures when you can make obedient ones without too much asking? No one knows and I honestly don't want to know." Wales said with a short sigh. 

"You look tired, Miss Wales." Zumwalt said with an awkward smile.

"Yes, I'm tired of thinking about all this, but I can't let it all go, just because my hull carries this name... Prince of Wales, how sickening." Wales said with another sigh. 

"Well uhh, I haven't known you long and I'm sure you don't trust me completely yet, but.... You can talk to me if you want." Zumwalt offered. 

Wales thought about it for a moment. Then she spoke up again. "Then, whatever I say here is just between the two of us, okay? No one else can know, not even the Americans."

"Enterprise and Nevada can't know either?" Zumwalt asked to which Wales replied with a shake of her head. 

"Even the two of them, don't get me wrong Zumwalt, I will gladly fight by their side till my last breath, but what I'm about to tell you goes beyond my trust in them, I just don't know why I want to tell you this so badly." Wales said softly, her grip on her tea flask strengthening. 

"Perhaps, it comes from deep within you, you desperately need a place to pour out your grievances without fear of judgment, either because of the name your hull carries or because you are.... What is it again? Ah yes, Royal Knight." Zumwalt said softly, she held Wales' hand that was gripping the flask. 

Wales seemed to sob a little, but still holding it in, she tried not to look at Zumwalt. "Yes, maybe... Maybe I need that place, can I do that with you, Zumwalt?"

"People say that confiding in someone you're not too close to is more relieving and enjoyable than confiding in someone you're close to." Zumwalt smiled a little. 

".... This happened four days after Hood died... I can't forget it. Hood's corpse.... was placed in one of the facilities used to create us, the Shipgirls. There her body was autopsied, then I along with Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth decided to come and give Hood a proper funeral, the Admiralty had agreed to our request as they also thought it immoral to perform vivisection on a Shipgirl who was the Jewel of the Fleet." Wales begins her story. 

"Wait... Hood, died? But I heard from the other girls that she was just dying and is currently in intensive care?" Zumwalt asked confused. 

"...That was a false story we all told to trick the enemy, the fact is the Hood right after her fight with Bismarck, died a horrible death... I still remember the fearful look in those blue eyes of her... Her beautiful golden blond hair was covered in blood." Wales' body trembled and her sobs began to intensify.

"That sounds pretty fucked up man." Zumwalt scowled at that. 

"Yeah, that's how Ironblood is under the leadership of the two-faced Bismarck." Wales said with anger. 

"Back to the story... When me and Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth were going to pick up Hood's corpse, how shocked we were to find all the facility staff and scientists there already killed with their bodies torn apart, we saw Bismarck carrying Hood's body, we don't know what her purpose was but we couldn't save Hood... Even after she died I was still a failure." Wales said, her anger growing. 

Zumwalt squeezed Wales' arm. "Calm down Wales, I can't give you a promise that we will save Hood's body, but I can promise that I will be there when we kill Bismarck."

"Thank you, Zumwalt... Wow, you were right, that weight on my chest has been lifted a bit." Wales laughed crisply as she wiped away her tears. Wales' hand then touched Zumwalt's hand which hold Wales' hand that was holding the thermos. 

"That's what friends are for, Wales." Zumwalt said softly. 

"Miss Zummy! The preparations are complete! Admiral Halsey wants to have a staff meeting before we leave!" Javelin shouted from below, she was seen carrying a wooden box with an inscription that read "Jasmine Tea."

"Alright, we'll be right there!" Zumwalt replied loudly. 

Javelin continued to lift the wooden box onto his ship. Zumwalt looked at Wales who had regained her composure. "Shall we?"

Wales nodded her head with a slight smile. "Lead the way, Yankee."

2 Kilometers from the Imperial Japanese Army Headquarters, Bangka Belitung Islands. 

Lieutenant Commander Duncan cocked the M7A1 he was carrying, the M7A1 or its original name is M7, is the next generation Assault Rifle for the United States Armed Forces, this rifle has now become the standard issue weapon used by all personnel, it's just a pity that the entry of the M7 into the service of the American Armed Forces can be said to be quite late because during the war between China and America, the average weapon still used is the M4A1.

Duncan had also put on his VIZ goggles, he was currently monitoring the situation from the Imperial Japanese Army Headquarters which was devastated by the naval attack from Admiral Doorman's Fleet. 

"Lenny, move Butter closer, I seem to have found our VIP." Duncan ordered. 

Lenny, one of the SEALS under Duncan's command, immediately moved Butter using the remote control connected to the VIZ. Butter is a lobster-shaped robot that is multifunctional, one of the main uses of Butter is that it can be a communication intermediary in case of interference that makes long-distance communication limited and also the most important thing is that Butter can mark important targets and then provide the data to its operator so that it can call an attack to be carried out. 

"Is this enough, Commander?" Lenny asked. 

"More than enough, Nowak, status on Warner and Orzel?" Duncan asked the Polish Navy officer who was his right-hand man. 

"They are directly under the enemy fleet, they are ready to sink Japanese ships when you give the order." Nowak said with a grin. 

"What about F and E Company to our west?" Duncan asked again. 

"They reporting that they're ready for action, the Sherman tanks have moved ahead and the Infantry are following close behind. They may be ambushed by the Japanese Troops we found using Drones and Butter, but Sergeant Mohawk's team should be dealing with them as we speak." Nowak reported. 

"Connect me with him."

"Connecting... Done, he's yours, Sir." Nowak nodded his head. 

"Mohawk, buddy, how's the hunt going?" Duncan asked. 

"Really Fun Commander! Who needs an assault rifle when you have a Plasma Rifle! Oh shit, Wallman! Watch your fucking head!"

"You seem busy, man." Duncan said with a hint of mockery. 

"You ordered me here, sir, what's with the sudden call?" Mohawk asked. 

"300 American Soldiers with 20 Tanks will be passing your place in 15 minutes at the earliest, in which time I want those Japs back or burning in Hell." Duncan ordered. 

"Consider it done, sir!"

Duncan then continued to observe the Headquarters in front of him, when he saw the VIP he mentioned earlier, how surprised was Duncan to see two beautiful and sexy women standing in front of the VIP. 

"Comfort women?" Duncan asked curiously. 

"I sent their descriptions to Miss Houston, she said they are shipgirls, one is the IJN Kaga the other is the KMS Prinz Eugen." Nowak reported. 

"Shipgirls? This will be problematic, they are superhumans and we are mere mortals, can we ask General MacArthur for reinforcements?" Duncan asked again.

"Already ahead of you, Sir, General MacArthur is sending Houston and Marblehead towards us right now, Admiral Doorman's fleet has also sailed from Batavia with his ships, we have sea domination, sir." Nowak said confidently. 

"I believe that, but I'm still worried about the Sirens, they could show up and suddenly destroy our plan to take the Islands." Duncan said with a long sigh. 

"Hmm right, those aliens are really going to be a problem for us." Nowak said recalling their first battle against the Siren forces. 

"Commander Duncan, a dozen air units suddenly appeared from the North, they are heading towards the Japanese Headquarters." Said Lenny who saw through other drones they were flying.

"...Nowak, I swear I'll have to glue your mouth next time." Duncan said with annoyance. 

"Ahaha..."

"This is Vengeance to all units, let's get the party started." Duncan said through a communication channel. 

Approximately more than 20 units of 81mm caliber mortars carried by the American troops began firing high-explosive shells. Duncan, Nowak and the others also advanced by combing the forest around the Headquarters. Several RAF aircraft in the form of Gloucester Meteors conducted strafing runs with HVAR rockets from under their wings, the jets then circled back to the airbase at Palembang to re-arm adn refuel. 

12 Siren's Dropships appeared to be about to land at the Imperial Japanese Army Base which was being assaulted by Allied forces, but before they could land and unload soldiers, several AIM-9X missiles shot out from under the sea and shot down six Dropships, causing the rest to fly away and land their troops in a safer place. 

Imperial Japanese ships also began to explode one by one below their waterline, mostly Battleships and Aircraft Carriers, with troop carriers being a secondary target. Courtesy of the angry Kilo-Class Submarine and the Virginia-Class. 

Duncan shot down a few Japanese soldiers on patrol, they looked dazed before dying. Nowak, who was to his right, tapped Duncan on the shoulder, making Duncan stop. Nowak said. "Sir, Sergeant Mohawk's Unit has successfully defeated the Japanese ambush troops and is now rushing towards us with Captain Audwin's troops."

"Understood, tell them to prioritize security, we can still hold out for now." Duncan ordered. 

"Copy that!"

Duncan then looked for the next target from his 6.8×51mm caliber assault rifle, he saw twelve Japanese soldiers walking towards them, Duncan immediately opened fire and was followed by the others. 

The Japanese soldiers who had never heard rifle fire with silencers seemed to be quite frightened as they thought they were being attacked by ghosts from this island, but they were not. Some of the shots from the enemy troops also seemed to be almost accurate as Duncan was almost hit several times by enemy fire.

"They're not bad at shooting either! Where did this unit come from?" Duncan asked as he fired a grenade from the launcher under his M7A1 at a group of Japanese soldiers, killing almost all of them. 

"Maybe they're veterans from the War in China! They really suck if they can't shoot civilians." Nowak joked as he lowered his head. 

"Japanese heavy tanks heading our way!" Lenny shouted. 

Sure enough, four tanks that had never appeared in the history books of the Second World War before them were now present. Duncan's VIZ immediately analyzed the tanks and identified them as Type-61 MBTs used by the JSDF in the early 1960s to mid-1970s.

"Use LAWS and Bazookas! That thing looks strong but it can't take much damage!" Duncan ordered. 

Several of his SEALS and KNIL volunteers took aim at the tanks with their LAWS and Bazookas, rockets launching from their rocket launcher tubes. 

One Type-61 exploded spectacularly after being hit by six LAWS directly on its hull. The rest of the tanks suffered only minor damage and malfunctioning electronic equipment. 

As Duncan was about to give the next order, several KNIL volunteer soldiers ran towards the stopped tanks carrying Satchel Charges. 

"Oh they're crazy! Give them covering fire! Nowak, on me!" Duncan ran forward with Lt. Nowak, the rest of the troops gave covering fire. 

One of the KNIL soldiers forced open the Type-61 Tank's hatch and was instantly killed by it's tank commander who fired a pistol at him. The next KNIL soldier came and threw the satchel charge he was carrying into the tank, the young soldier jumped down and got down. A few seconds later the tank exploded and sent the turret flying into the sky. 

Duncan saw this and went straight to the KNIL soldier and forced him to stand up. "Hey! Don't do that again, okay?! There's no sacrifice under my fucking leadership!"

The KNIL soldier seemed confused by what Duncan said, it seemed he was a native who joined the KNIL. "Do you understand what I'm saying? There is no sacrifice!"

Duncan then dragged the KNIL soldier to a safer place while avoiding fire from Japanese machine guns. Some of the RAF's Meteor Jets did a flyby and dropped their bombs on the Japanese tank positions. 

"Sir! That's a little too reckless!" Nowak shouted, firing a grenade launcher at the enemy position. 

"Where are Houston and Marblehead's positions?! We can't advance without them!" Duncan shouted. 

"Above us!" Duncan and the others immediately looked up into the sky, there was an RAF transport plane, the Armstrong Whitworth 'Albemarle', flying gracefully and escorted by more than 13 Airacobras. Moments later two parachutes inflated in the sky and descended relatively quickly. 

Several more AIM-9X missiles launched from under the sea and hit several Siren fighters that were trying to shoot down the parachutists. Several minutes passed and finally the two parachutists landed near the position of Duncan and the others. As Duncan and his partner approached the two paratroopers, they saw two beautiful women with non-military standard clothing and had Heavy and Light Cruiser Rigging on their bodies.

"Welcome to the priority train to Hell, ladies! Who's Marblehead and who's Houston?" Asked Duncan with his trademark eccentricity. 

"It's like you've never met me, Commander." A pink-haired woman chuckled at Duncan's statement. 

"Oh Houston, I'm too used to seeing you in a ponytail and modest attire than this, the blonde one must be Marblehead, right?" Duncan looked at the woman with short blonde hair with some pink strands. 

"Hello~ I'm Marblehead, nice to meet you Commander~ We'd better take care of this first and then continue chatting, huh?" Marblehead giggled. 

Houston shook her head at her partner's strange nature. "Commander, we are under your orders during this operation, what are your orders?"

"Take out those Shipgirls at the Japanese Base, we'll hold off the Sirens and repel the Japanese soldiers." Duncan ordered. 

"Understood sir, Let's go Marble!" Houston and Marblehead immediately shot towards the Imperial Japanese Army Headquarters. 

The attack led by Lieutenant Commander Duncan from the South and Captain Audwin from the West caused chaos to the Japanese troops who were still trying to gather and strategize. Several Tomahawk missiles from underwater emerged and hit the Japanese captured runway and their ammunition storage depots that survived Admiral Doorman's Navy attack last night.

Huge explosion after huge explosion occurred inside the Japanese Imperial Army Headquarters, the Imperial soldiers were also running around trying to figure out what happened. The Japanese General commanding the Unit, Sano Tadayoshi, was seen being escorted by several soldiers along with Kaga and Eugen out of the heavily bombarded Base. 

"Kaga-san! Where are they attacking from?!" Sano asked while looking at the 'arrows' of light that hit the ammunition storage and the harbor where the Navy ships were docked. 

"Negative for those missiles! But their ground troops are heading towards us from the South and West, I suggest retreating to the East and gathering the remaining soldiers for a swift counterattack!" Kaga retorted while throwing her blue-colored paper bird that brought down one of the Airacobras serving as CAS. 

"You do that! I can survive with Miss Eugen's help!" General Sano Tadayoshi said. 

Kaga seemed reluctant, but Eugen gave Kaga a pat on the shoulder, making Kaga finally agree to let General Sano be with Eugen alone. She then immediately darted away, while flying dozens of Zero fighters. 

Houston who ran among the ruins of the Japanese Headquarters gasped when she saw Kaga who was on the wreckage of a Type-61 Tank, she seemed to be focused on communicating with others on her radio. 

Houston aimed at Kaga with her 203mm caliber cannon and immediately fired, several armor-piercing shells flew quickly towards Kaga, but an energy shield appeared to block the attack from Houston. The energy shield made out of hundreds of small hexagons. 

"Apparently there is one rat here, Houston or Memphis? Honestly I forgot, I'm confused with you United States always have different hair colors." Kaga said in a lazy tone. 

".... Kaga, we meet again... When did we meet last? New York?" Houston asked Kaga with a pretty sharp look. 

"That's right, the world is really small and cruel, eh? But you should know that, Houston." Kaga gave a small grin. 

Houston was getting ready to attack. "I'm glad that even though you went back to Japan, the cocky nature you took from us didn't disappear, The Bar has been pretty quiet since you and the others went home."

"Oh I'm being honest with you, Houston, I'd really like to go back if I could, but you know what we have to do first, right?" Kaga then threw some blue paper into the air which immediately caught fire and became several Dive-Bombers. 

Houston ran between the ruins of the Base while the anti-air weapon on her rigging shot down Kaga's planes. Several times she also stopped and opened fire, before running back among the ruins. Kaga continued to laugh while throwing her paper in the air, Houston sighed in frustration because the energy shield Kaga was using was really annoying.

"Why Houston? You look troubled." Said Kaga who stopped laughing. 

"Maybe you can start by turning off that annoying shield." Houston grumbled while dodging a barrage of fire from Kaga's Zero fighter. 

"Oho? I thought you were all equipped with Anti-Energy Shells? Is it because you didn't think you'd be dealing with us or Siren?" Asked Kaga a little surprised but amused. 

"...We were expecting to be at war with you, not Siren, but the people above should have known since you're allied with them but it seems they're trying so hard to make a joke, and it's not funny." Houston said.

Kaga laughed again. "Oh I really miss the dumbass nature of your High Command, Houston."

"And I don't." Houston said before finally darting back while firing her 203mm cannon. Kaga casually took the attacks from Houston using her energy shield. 

As Houston continued to attack from the front with difficulty, suddenly several 155mm caliber cannon with high explosive shells slammed into Kaga's back which made her tumble forward and her shield disappeared. 

Marblehead who was shooting at Kaga from a distance just chuckled. "You seem to have forgotten that lesson, Kaga."

"Marblehead... Bastard, you really are just like before, not changing at all." Complained Kaga who was slowly getting up from her fall. 

"What should I say, Kaga, I'm an old woman who doesn't like to change much." Marblehead chuckled. 

Kaga then saw using one of her planes that was still flying, a column of armored vehicles with hundreds of American soldiers was moving and had already arrived at the front door of the Base she was defending. Kaga scoffed in displeasure before finally saying. "You won this time, Marblehead and Houston, but next time I won't give you any mercy."

Kaga then threw a ball down, the ball exploded and caused a lot of smoke, Houston fired her secondary cannon into the smoke produced by Kaga, but the shells from her secondary cannon seemed to hit nothing. 

Marblehead came to Houston and said. "It seems Kaga is using that trick again, I'm confused as to how it continues to work when we've seen her do it so many times in the past."

"This is Kaga we're talking about, she's good at everything except making friendly faces." Houston said while shaking her head. 

"At least we won today, Houston." Marblehead said encouraging her partner. 

"I think you have a point, a win is a win, right?" Houston smiled a little, but her heart was troubled. 

Marblehead certainly realized this but decided not to say anything, but her hand tapped Houston's shoulder continuously. During their time there, American troops had entered and secured the Base, all the remaining Japanese soldiers were captured for interrogation at a later date. 

Commander Duncan and Captain Audwin were seen observing inside the Base to see what facilities could still be repaired or had to be completely replaced by a new one. 

"Miss Warner really gave them hell." Said Captain Audwin who was very impressed to see the workmanship of the Virginia Class attack submarine. 

"Aye, just like in Sumatra isn't it? And that was only a week ago." Duncan laughed. 

"Agreed, a lot has happened in a week's time, I'm just confused." Captain Audwin held his dizzy head.

"You and I are the same buddy, so when are General MacArthur and the Division from the Philippines coming here?" Duncan asked. 

"Probably two or three days from now, along with reinforcements from Azur Lane, the operation to capture Singapore has been planned before the eventual Bombing Mission to Tokyo." Captain Audwin whispered at the end. 

"How did you know that shit?" Duncan looked surprised. 

Audwin grinned. "You should hang out at the Officers' quarters once in a while or try to suck them up, they're bound to tell you something secret."

Duncan shook his head. "Nah, I already have a wife man."

"Your wife from the future? Aren't you divorced, man?" Audwin asked in surprise. 

".... Yeah well, that bitch took custody of my kid from me, I can't see him anymore and I really can't now." Duncan bowed his head. 

Audwin patted Duncan on the shoulder.  "Come one now Commander, perhaps in this Era there will be a beautiful woman who is loyal to you."

Duncan thought about that. "On second thought, yes, thank you for your advice Audwin, let's continue surveying this place and have a nice dinner."

"Right behind you, sir."

In the village near the Imperial Japanese Army base occupied by Allied forces. 

USS John Warner and ORP Orzel were seen strolling through the already rather large village leisurely. They had just been relieved of duty after Admiral Doorman's task force came and replaced them, now Commander Duncan and the Navy division's ABDACOM high command asked them to rest, before finally plunging back into the storm. 

"It feels peaceful, Orzel." Warner said with a smile as she looked at the children playing near the few KNIL and Allied soldiers in the village. This village had been one of the villages that was loyal to the Dutch East Indies and kept reporting the movements of the Japanese Army to the Allies, so the Assault Operation could run relatively smoothly because the people in this village put their lives on the line for it. 

"I agree, Siostra, but it would be a shame if there was another conflict after all this is over, you remember after the Second World War ended these people decided to Proclaim their Independence." Orzel said with a sad smile, imagining that the people they saw today would probably die sometime in the future. 

Warner was pensive at the thought. "Hmm, it's true what you say, if it's said like that we're like the bad guys, are we the bad guys?"

Orzel looked at the sky, before finally looking back at the children who were playing happily. "Maybe in the future we'll have to kill these children because they support Independence, I don't know how to feel about that... But about your words we are the bad guys... We humans go through three phases in life."

"Ah here she is, my favorite Polish woman with her philosophy." Warner said rolling her eyeballs. 

Orzel ignored Warner's words and continued to give her words. "The first phase teaches us to distinguish right from wrong... The second phase in life, teaches us that in life there is no right and there is no wrong." Orzel smiled as she said that. 

"Wait, I seem to recognize the reference of the quote you're saying right now." Warner seemed to realize something. 

"Warner, do you know what's last in the last phase of life?" Orzel asked Warner. 

Warner once again looked around her, it was peaceful despite the war around them. ".... It teaches us to do what we believe is right and take responsibility for the results, am I right?"

"Exactly, Warner, you should go to Philosophy school after this." Orzel smiled slightly. 

"...Why say this out of the blue, Old Eagle?" Warner asked curiously. 

Orzel was silent for a moment before finally sighing. "I don't like and will never support colonialism, they own this land and they have the right to rule over it... Warner, if the Dutch and the Allies don't give Indonesian people the overall independence they dream of, I will fight by their side, until my last Torpedo and Missile."

"Are you crazy, Old Eagle? You'd be fighting the Allies if it were like that! And besides, why fight for people you don't even know?" Warner said loudly, but not enough to attract the attention of the surrounding people. 

"Isn't that what I could have told you and the American Government back before Dhahran? Always intervening in other people's countries' affairs and making a mess of them... I don't want to bring up the old story, my friend Warner, but I'm going to do it because I feel it's right, Lieutenant Nowak definitely agree with my decision." Orzel said while clenching her fists. 

Warner continued to stare into Orzel's ocean-blue eyes before finally ruffling her own brown hair in frustration. "Better rethink that decision of yours Old Lady, this war is still a long time away, at least two years if I do say so myself."

"You're not going to report me to the Supreme Command?" Asked Orzel curiously. 

"...I feel like I'd be the best whore with gaping pussy in the world if I did that, I still have a heart my friend, after all with that much time we can use it to convince the Dutch East Indies to let Indonesia become independent, the path of diplomacy is always open, okay?" Warner let out a long sigh. 

".... Thank you Siostra, sorry if I burdened you by telling you my thoughts." Orzel felt guilty. 

"It's better you say it now, Orzel, than later on I find out from someone else's mouth, alright! Enough of this sappy shit, I want to try a suggestion from one of the KNIL, he said there's a very good 'Lakse' sold here, so I want to try it." Warner shook her head before moving on. 

Orzel smiled sincerely before following Warner. Behind them, in the corner of the house. There was a pale-skinned woman with milky white hair and piercing yellow eyes staring at them steadily. She was using some sort of sack to cover her body. 

"Hey there! What are you doing?" A KNIL soldier appeared to be approaching the mysterious woman with a Johnson Rifle in his hand. 

"Troublesome... Human..." The woman immediately materialized a large black claw glove with three sharp fingers. 

Before the poor soldier could scream or make a sound, the woman tore into the poor KNIL soldier's body, before leaving to avoid being searched.

... 

..... 

....... 

.......... 

".... So she's The new model, specialized to handle this Anomalies?"

"That's right my colleague, Lurker Mod. 2, now equipped with Claws for close combat, has her own missile launcher year and has Torpedoes that can chase targets, even though they're in stealth mode, those two old

Submarines will be destroyed in the near future."

"Make sure it's as clean as possible, okay? I don't want those Arbiter bastards to know, it could be a big problem."

"Hmmm come to think of it, how come I keep doing your job, you're the one who let them in here."

"Huh?! Now it's my fault, how did I know that they were suddenly teleported here!"

"You said that it's almost impossible for people in that world to do that... Could there be a traitor among us?"

"...I can't deny that it could happen, but the question is why would They do that and how would They escape the Obedience Command that the Creators put in place when making them all, is it a bug?"

"Most likely not, whoever the culprit is, They're very good at hiding Their tracks and must have a high enough rank to do this." 

"Should I send Purifiers to hunt down this mole of ours?"

"Do it, but give them command to do it as cleanly as possible, remember, clandestine."

"This is the Purifier Units we're talking about, their only job is to kill, no matter what the method."

"...What kind of drugs our creator used when They created the Purifiers? I want one too."

"You and I are the same."

"Ignoring that issue, how about Germany? I'm very interested in that country development."

"Germany is waiting for the weather to improve, it's likely that the invasion will take place during the Summer, so there shouldn't be any significant action on the Western Front in the next few months. But every day the instant Factory Modules we give to Germany keep pumping up the war machine like there's no tomorrow, is this a bit much?"

"Hmmm yes, this is a bit too much and will leave the Allies with no fighting chance, limit their daily production and try to do something else to make the Germans calm down a bit, we don't want this World to end up like the Fourth Reich timeline, do we?"

"Well that's unlikely to happen, the Allies have Zumwalt-class Destroyers, Nimitz-class Super Carriers, Virginia-class and Kilo-class Attack Submarines, it's impossible for the Allies to just lose."

"...I didn't include them in my calculations, bloody Anomalies. Never mind, how's the German progress in the Arctic?"

"Uhhh they just lost the battle there."

"Huh? How so? Do the Allies already have bases there? No way! We should know if they do."

"Uhhh according to reports from agents on the ground they lost not to the Allied Forces, but hundreds of Penguins who evolved and now use firearms, they put up a great fight."

"Nonsense! Bring up the video!"

A large holographic screen appeared before the two entities. They saw a replay of the battle between the German troops and the evolved Penguin army. The Penguins appeared to be using various types of weapons, but the majority were using M1 Garands and Thompsons, they also even wore standard US Army helmets. 

"Oh you've got to be kidding me, what's next, they're hijacking a German warship?!"

"Uhhh ma'am..."

"Don't tell me they..."

"Yes... Two Scharnhorst-class Battleship and ten Z-23 version Type-1936A class Destroyers, all Mass Production and under the control of the Penguins."

"What's wrong with this timeline?!"

TBC

Chapter Text

 Azur Lane Fleet - En Route to the Dutch East Indies

Aboard USS Zumwalt
December 13, 1941 - 0300 Hours

The soft hum of the Zumwalt’s systems filled the dimly lit private quarters. Sitting at her desk, Zumwalt’s fingers danced across her keyboard, data scrolling rapidly across her sleek monitor. Her brow furrowed, reflecting the weight of her thoughts.

Behind her, Laffey lay sprawled across the bed, her small figure wrapped snugly in a blanket. Her soft breaths rose and fell in an unbroken rhythm. Zumwalt glanced over her shoulder, shaking her head with a mixture of affection and exasperation.

“I swear, this girl could sleep through a typhoon,” Zumwalt muttered under her breath, a wry smile tugging at her lips.

The quiet of the room was interrupted by a sharp beep from the VIZ headset on her desk. With a quick motion, she grabbed the device and placed it over her eyes. The sleek interface came alive as she tapped into the communication channel.

“Zumwalt here. What’s up, Enterprise?”

The screen displayed Enterprise’s calm yet resolute expression, her voice carrying the practiced authority of a seasoned leader.

“Reports from General MacArthur and the rest of ABDACOM are in,” Enterprise began. “They’ve secured the Bangka Belitung Islands. Our fleet will maintain course for Guam before sailing onward to Singapore.”

Zumwalt’s eyes widened. “Bangka Belitung secured? That’s incredible progress!” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief. “This... this truly is another world. Back in my time, ABDACOM barely held together before being annihilated. Defeat after defeat... and now this?”

Enterprise allowed herself a faint smile before continuing. “I wouldn’t celebrate just yet. There’s a chance we’ll encounter resistance near Guam. Aircraft stationed there have reported sightings of Japanese ships patrolling the area for the past few days.”

Zumwalt’s expression hardened. “Guam… If they’re setting up a trap, we’ll need eyes in the sky. Thanks for the heads-up, Enterprise. I’ll coordinate with George for reconnaissance.”

“Understood. I’ll also dispatch Hornet and increase CAP (Combat Air Patrol) coverage around the fleet. Enterprise, out.”

As the connection cut off, Zumwalt leaned back in her chair, her gaze flicking toward the ceiling. A storm was brewing, and every instinct in her hull told her that the next battle would test them all. She reached for her comm device and dialed George.

“George, this is Zumwalt. We’ve got potential enemy activity near Guam. I need your jets in the air for recon.”

A groggy voice responded, punctuated by a soft yawn. “Zumwalt… it’s three in the morning. Can’t the Japanese wait until breakfast?”

Zumwalt chuckled dryly, though her tone remained firm. “War doesn’t keep to a schedule, George. Get those F-35s in the air now.”

“Fine, fine. Give me five minutes.”

Moments later, through the external cameras of her ship, Zumwalt watched as the deck of the USS George H.W. Bush came alive. Her sharp eyes followed the silhouettes of seven F-35C Lightning IIs as they roared into the night sky, their afterburners slicing through the darkness.

Satisfied, Zumwalt removed the VIZ goggles and leaned back in her chair. The room seemed quieter now, but the tension in her circuits remained palpable.

Her gaze fell on Laffey again, her ever-sleeping companion. The Destroyer Kan-Sen’s peaceful expression was a stark contrast to the storm raging in Zumwalt’s mind. She crossed the room and lay down beside her, the weight of command pressing heavily on her shoulders.

As she stared at the ceiling, memories of the past week flooded her thoughts. The chaotic, dreamlike journey to this strange, altered world. The unrelenting battles. The impossible alliances. In her time, this was nothing but fiction, a tale of what-ifs and fantasy. And yet, here she was—living it.

Reaching out, she gently stroked Laffey’s hair. “What kind of world have we stumbled into, Laffey?” she whispered.

The destroyer shifted slightly, murmuring something incoherent in her sleep. Zumwalt smiled faintly, her hand pausing for a moment before resting beside her.

Finally, she allowed her eyes to close, though sleep did not come easily. Somewhere in the vast expanse of the Pacific, enemies lurked in the shadows. And as much as a ship could dream, Zumwalt knew that her dreams would be filled with fire, steel, and the cries of battle. 

The bridge of the USS George H.W. Bush was dimly lit, the glow of instrumentation casting faint shadows on its bulkheads. Seated in the command chair, George rubbed her temples and let out a wide yawn. She reached for her steaming cup of coffee, the mug’s bold letters—“Weigh Anchor!”—mocking her predicament.  

“Damn it,” she muttered, taking a sip and grimacing at the bitter taste. “If I’d known my luck would fail me tonight, I wouldn’t have touched that cursed lottery.”  

The lottery in question had determined the night’s watch rotation. Fate, it seemed, had a sense of humor, leaving George on her bridge alone and bored. 

She leaned back and stared at the holographic display before her, the soft hum of machinery filling the stillness. The bridge felt like a tomb, save for the occasional humming of George.  

“Let’s see what that Imperial clown is up to,” George muttered, straightening up. She closed her eyes and focused her mind, connecting with one of the F-35C Lightning IIs she had launched earlier.  

Her vision shifted as the link took hold, her consciousness merging with the jet’s systems. Through the fighter’s advanced optics, George saw the vast expanse of the Pacific stretch before her, the moonlight dancing across its gentle waves. The silence was deceptive.  

And then she saw them.  

The horizon bristled with the silhouettes of warships, their profiles sharp and menacing. George counted at least 30 enemy vessels moving in formation—Japanese warships, but not just any warships. Her sharp eyes picked out the unnatural contours of many of them, their designs distinctly alien.  

“Siren,” she whispered, her voice a mix of anger and unease.  

She broke the link and straightened in her chair, her earlier fatigue vanishing in an instant. The Sirens were here, and they had thrown their lot in with the Imperial Japanese Navy.  

George immediately reached for her communications console, keying in the channel to Admiral Halsey aboard the USS Enterprise.  

“Admiral Halsey, this is George. Do you copy?”  

After a moment, Halsey’s voice crackled to life. “George, what’s the situation? And why are you waking me up at this ungodly hour?” His tone was groggy but steady.  

“Enemy fleet detected north of Guam,” George reported, her voice firm and urgent. “Thirty warships, including ten infantry transport ships. However, a significant portion of their fleet consists of Siren mass-production vessels.”  

The mention of Sirens brought a pause from Halsey. “Sirens? Are you certain?”  

George clenched her fists. “Positive. Their designs are unmistakable. The Japanese are fielding them alongside their own vessels. We’ve seen no sign of their Shipgirls yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”  

Halsey’s tone sharpened, the grogginess fading. “Understood. What’s your recommendation?”  

“I request permission to engage their aircraft carriers immediately,” George said, her fingers hovering over the missile controls. “I can launch strikes on their capital ships too, crippling their offensive capabilities before they get any closer.”  

There was a brief silence, broken only by the faint hum of the comms. Then Halsey’s voice returned, cold and decisive.  

“Permission granted. Prioritize their carriers and any capital ships. The Enterprise will mobilize to finish the job. Let’s show them what happens when they challenge Azur Lane.”  

As the transmission ended, the bridge of the Enterprise sprang to life on George’s tactical feed. Lights flickered on, and crew members moved with practiced precision, preparing for combat.  

George grinned, the adrenaline surging through her. “Alright, ladies,” she called out, her voice echoing across the George H.W. Bush’s bridge. “Time to show the Sirens and their Imperial friends what modern firepower looks like.”  

She opened a fleet-wide channel, her voice calm but commanding.  

“All ships, prepare for ship-to-ship combat! I repeat, prepare for ship-to-ship combat! This is not a drill!”  

Her orders rang out across the Azur Lane fleet. Deck crews scrambled into action as klaxons blared. Missiles were armed, turrets were brought online, and combat systems activated. On the horizon, the faint glow of dawn began to creep into the sky, illuminating the brewing storm.  

Through the F-35C’s camera feed, George watched as the enemy fleet pressed onward, their ominous silhouettes cutting through the waves. The tension on the bridge was palpable, every crew member focused on their task.  

With a deep breath, George pressed the missile launch button. The roar of the F-35C’s payload echoed in her mind as streaks of light arced toward the enemy carriers. Explosions lit up the horizon moments later, the first salvo of what would become a ferocious battle.  

As the USS George H.W. Bush and the fleet moved into position, George couldn’t help but feel a mixture of dread and exhilaration. The Sirens had revealed themselves, and this fight would be unlike any other.  

George’s eyes narrowed as her feed zoomed in on the Japanese fleet. Amidst the darkness of the Pacific night, the faint silhouettes of five Siren-controlled carriers loomed ominously. Their sleek, alien designs glinted faintly under the moonlight, starkly contrasting the more conventional Japanese Imperial Navy ships.  

She bit her lip, running quick calculations in her mind. The time for reconnaissance was over.  

“All right, let’s see how good your defenses are.”  

With a command sent through her console, seven F-35Cs released their payloads—a total of 42 LRASM (Long-Range Anti-Ship Missiles) streaked across the ocean. Skimming the water at treetop height, the missiles left barely a ripple in their wake as they sped toward their targets.  

Each Siren carrier had eight missiles locked onto it. The remaining missiles were directed toward auxiliary vessels—ammunition and fuel ships.  

The Siren carriers’ plasma-based close-in weapon systems (CIWS) lit up like fireflies in the night, spitting deadly pulses of energy. Glowing orbs streaked through the dark, methodically intercepting incoming threats. Half of the LRASMs detonated mid-air, fiery explosions briefly illuminating the battle scene.  

But George’s missiles were designed for adaptability. The remaining LRASMs split off, recalibrating their targeting systems. Abandoning their original targets, they zeroed in on nearby fuel and ammunition ships.  

The resulting explosions shattered the night. A chain reaction ignited as fuel reserves and ordnance erupted, sending shockwaves across the water. Columns of fire rose skyward, silhouetting the Siren fleet in eerie orange light. Nearby ships rocked violently, their decks awash with chaos.  

George leaned forward, frowning at the feed. “Not bad, but not good enough.”  

She toggled her comms. “Launch the second wave. Get me fresh birds in the air.”  

Below deck, the flight crew sprang into action, loading additional F-35Cs with missiles and prepping them for launch. The first wave of aircraft returned, their pilots guiding the jets back onto the deck to rearm.  

Before George could give further orders, a streak of light crossed her peripheral vision. On her secondary monitor, she saw a volley of Tomahawk cruise missiles cutting through the night.  

“Zumwalt, I see you’re joining the party,” George muttered with a grin.  

Moments later, the USS Zumwalt entered firing range. The cutting-edge destroyer’s LRLAP (Long Range Land Attack Projectile) shells screamed through the air, their hypersonic trajectory splitting the atmosphere.  

The first shell struck true, obliterating one of the Siren carriers in a single, cataclysmic explosion. The carrier’s hull split in two, and its remains began to sink beneath the waves.  

A fresh salvo of Tomahawks from the Zumwalt followed, targeting Japanese battleships. The thunderous impacts ripped through their armored decks, leaving infernos in their wake.  

George smirked as she watched the chaos unfold. “Some good hits on the enemy! You’ve got them, girl!”  

Zumwalt’s voice crackled over the comms, her tone dry. “Now you’re excited, George?”  

The Zumwalt’s cannons roared again, sending more LRLAP rounds raining down. The Siren carriers scrambled to launch their aircraft, managing to get twenty fighter jets airborne. But the Zumwalt’s relentless assault rendered their runways unusable, leaving the remaining planes grounded.  

Then Zumwalt’s warning cut through the comms. “George! Multiple enemy targets are approaching—apologies, some slipped through!”  

George grinned wolfishly. “No problem! It’s about time I had some real fun!”  

The USS George H.W. Bush launched a full squadron of F-18 Super Hornets, joining the twenty F-35Cs already in the air. The two aircraft types formed up in a tight, deadly formation, their navigation lights creating a mesmerizing pattern against the dark sky.  

“All units, prepare for BVR (Beyond Visual Range) engagement. Launch all air-to-air missiles!” George ordered.  

The combined squadron unleashed a staggering 140 BVR missiles, the projectiles streaking toward the incoming Siren jets like a swarm of angry wasps.  

The Siren fighters broke formation, executing frantic evasive maneuvers. Their sleek, alien designs allowed for agility beyond human engineering, but the sheer volume of missiles made evasion futile. One by one, the Siren jets exploded in brilliant bursts, their wreckage raining into the sea.  

But not before they unleashed their own payload. Dozens of anti-ship missiles roared toward the Azur Lane fleet, leaving blazing trails in the sky.  

George’s expression hardened. “Zumwalt, we’ve got incoming. Handle it.”  

“I’m on it,” Zumwalt replied.  

The Zumwalt’s SM-6 interceptors launched from her vertical launch system (VLS), streaking toward the incoming missiles. Simultaneously, her Metal Storm anti-air systems engaged, unleashing a wall of tungsten rounds at hypersonic speed.  

The sky lit up as defensive fire from the entire fleet joined the effort. Explosions peppered the night, lighting up the sea with flashes of light as most of the enemy missiles were intercepted.  

But one slipped through.  

The rogue missile slammed into a landing ship, its warhead detonating on impact. A massive fireball erupted from the vessel’s starboard side, consuming the deck and the crew stationed there. Secondary explosions followed as ammunition ignited.  

George clenched her fists, anger and frustration tightening her chest. “Damage report on the landing ship!”  

“Fire is contained, but casualties are heavy,” came the grim reply.  

George took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus. “Zumwalt, keep the skies clear. I’ll handle the stragglers.”  

“Understood,” Zumwalt replied, her cannons already lining up for another salvo.  

The battle raged on, the Azur Lane fleet pushing back against the Siren-Japanese alliance with everything they had. In the heart of the chaos, George and Zumwalt stood as unyielding pillars, their determination shining brighter than the fires of war around them.  

“Damage report!” Admiral Halsey’s voice echoed through the comms, cutting through the chaotic chatter.  

The landing craft captain’s voice came through, strained but steady. “We’ve taken a hit! Damage isn’t critical, but the fire’s spreading across the deck. We’re working on containing it!”  

George’s voice cut in before Zumwalt could respond. “Captain, I’m sending a helicopter loaded with SAFFiR and MEDIC bots your way. Don’t shoot them down.”  

The captain let out a relieved chuckle. “Understood! Damn, George, you’re a lifesaver.”  

“Just make sure there’s a cold beer waiting for me after this cruise,” George quipped, her tone light despite the tension in the air.  

“Hah! You got it. Hell, I’ll buy you a whole bar if we get out of this mess. Captain Luther, out.”  

Zumwalt shook her head with a wry smile at their banter but quickly refocused on her task. Her cannons continued their relentless bombardment, her precision-guided shells tearing into the enemy fleet. One by one, Siren-controlled Japanese warships were crippled or sunk, their once-dominant formation falling into disarray.  

“Zumwalt…” A soft voice called from behind.  

Zumwalt turned, startled to find Laffey standing there, her eyes half-closed as she rubbed them sleepily.  

Zumwalt approached, gently placing a hand on Laffey’s head. “What’s wrong, Laffey? You should be resting.”  

“There’s a noise…” Laffey mumbled through a yawn. “From under the sea. Submarines, maybe.”  

Zumwalt’s eyes widened. She immediately turned to her console, her voice urgent as she patched into the fleetwide comms. “Enemy submarines detected under the fleet! All units, be on alert!”  

Javelin and Laffey’s destroyer broke from the main formation, accompanied by several Mahan-class mass-produced destroyers. Meanwhile, George scrambled an ASW Seahawk helicopter equipped with two Mark 46 lightweight torpedoes, the NATO standard for anti-submarine warfare.  

“Happy hunting, girls and boys,” Zumwalt muttered under her breath, clenching her fists as tension filled the air.  

On Javelin’s bridge, her sensors worked overtime. The shipgirl’s ears perked up at the familiar “ping!” of sonar returns. She gripped her controls tightly, her voice brimming with determination. “Enemy submarine detected! Laffey, let’s hit them together!”  

“Roger~” Laffey replied, her usual lethargy giving way to focused determination.  

The two shipgirls maneuvered their destroyers above the suspected submarine’s location, launching a coordinated barrage of depth charges. The water churned violently as explosions detonated below the surface, sending massive plumes of spray skyward.  

For a moment, silence followed. Then George’s voice came through the comms, laced with mischief. “Thanks for pinpointing the target, girls! Package incoming!”  

The Seahawk helicopter swooped into position, releasing both of its Mark 46 torpedoes. The weapons sliced through the water, homing in on the trapped submarine. Moments later, twin explosions erupted beneath the waves, and the hostile submarine broke apart, sinking to the ocean floor.  

“Target eliminated,” George reported, her tone calm and confident.  

Zumwalt smirked. “Thanks, George. I thought you’d be a little more nervous after… well, you know.”  

There was a brief pause before George replied. “A little, but we can’t let the past hold us back forever, right?”  

Zumwalt’s smile softened. “I like that attitude. Keep it up, and you might even land a date.”  

George laughed, the sound a welcome reprieve from the battle’s tension. “Here’s hoping.”  

Above the battlefield, a new wave of aircraft screamed into action. A squadron of a dozen F-35Cs, armed with four LRASMs each, and a single F-47B autonomous drone carrying ten modified AGM-114 Hellfire missiles, headed straight for the disorganized enemy fleet.  

The F-47B, sleek and menacing, was a testament to the modern U.S. Navy’s shift toward autonomous systems. Developed after the Dhahran incident and the intensification of naval patrols near the Arabian Peninsula, the F-47B had become a cornerstone of rapid-response air operations.  

The drone and its manned counterparts descended on the enemy fleet with ruthless precision. Missiles launched in rapid succession, their fiery trails illuminating the dark skies. Explosions erupted across the fleet as the LRASMs and Hellfires found their marks, further crippling the enemy’s ability to mount a counteroffensive.  

George’s voice crackled over the comms. “Let’s wrap this up, folks. Drinks are on me after we finish mopping up.”  

Zumwalt chuckled, her gaze fixed on the dwindling enemy forces. “You better hope that captain remembers his promise of a bar.”  

“Knowing him,” George replied with a grin, “he’ll make good on it. Now, let’s end this.”  

The F-35Cs that reached their payload range unleashed their full arsenal and swiftly retreated, their fuel reserves guiding them back to George’s deck for rearming. Meanwhile, the F-47B, flying at a higher altitude, circled the battlefield like a silent predator, its sensors closely monitoring the enemy fleet’s every move.  

With their Capital Ships obliterated, the remaining enemy fleet descended into chaos. The Japanese ships, recognizing the futility of continuing the battle, turned tail and began a hasty retreat. In stark contrast, the Siren’s mass-produced vessels remained eerily motionless, lacking the will—or the command—to retreat.  

The Azur Lane fleet seized the opportunity, quickly reorganizing into a battle formation. Prince of Wales, commanding the mass-produced battleships, led a fierce bombardment of the scattered Siren ships. Meanwhile, Cleveland, Sandy, and Francisco charged forward with their accompanying destroyers, their mission clear: intercept and neutralize the retreating landing ships.  

Zumwalt, observing the battlefield from her command post, glanced at the large tactical display in front of her. The “PoW” group to the north was delivering punishing volleys to the Siren ships that were desperately attempting to regroup.  

Noticing an opening, Zumwalt made a calculated decision. Her railguns roared to life, launching high-velocity rounds every five seconds with unrelenting precision. In under two minutes, more than 200 rounds had struck their targets, carving through the remnants of the enemy fleet.  

The battle ended swiftly. Azur Lane’s fleet emerged unscathed, their tactical superiority shining through. On the other hand, the enemy fleet was annihilated. The last Siren ships sank beneath the waves, taking their Infantry with them into the depths of the Pacific.  

“General report!” Admiral Halsey’s voice came through the comms.  

“No casualties, sir!” came the reply. “But we’ve got a few unlucky bastards who got seasick.”  

The response triggered a wave of laughter across the fleet’s communication channels. Even Halsey chuckled before responding. “Well done, everyone. I’m proud of you all. Rest up—it’s going to be an even busier day tomorrow.”  

Zumwalt exhaled deeply, her tense shoulders relaxing for the first time in hours. As she prepared to leave her post, her comms lit up with an incoming message.  

“Hey Enty, what’s up?” Zumwalt answered, her tone softening.  

Enterprise’s familiar voice came through, steady as always. “You’ve done enough for tonight—or this morning, for that matter. Hornet and I are taking over air patrol. Tell George to get some rest too.”  

Zumwalt smiled faintly, gratitude evident in her voice. “Thanks, Enty. I really need the break... Happy hunting.”  

Cutting the connection, Zumwalt made her way to her quarters. She found Laffey already asleep, curled up under the covers with her breathing slow and steady.  

Zumwalt paused, hesitating as she glanced at Laffey’s sleeping form. For a moment, she considered pulling her into a comforting hug. But instead, she shook her head, deciding against it. Sliding onto the bed, she lay down a careful distance away, her own exhaustion pulling her into sleep almost instantly.  

Unbeknownst to Zumwalt, Laffey stirred slightly in her sleep, a faint frown creasing her peaceful expression. Despite the battle’s conclusion, some things remained unresolved.

.... 

........ 

Nazi Germany's secret lab, a secret place. 

Bismarck looked at her right hand which had been replaced by a mechanical hand that was not covered with skin or flesh, made of materials that did not come from Earth. After that Bismarck looked at a large tube that was enough to fit one person, inside the tube was also filled with clear green liquid. But that's not all, inside the tube was a beautiful blonde woman better known as HMS Hood, the Royal Navy's flagship that she killed a few months ago. She assigned Roon and several secret Kriegsmarine Shipgirls to steal back Hood's corpse that the Royal Navy managed to save in their previous life and death battle. 

"Take it easy Hood, I will definitely bring you back to life, with that help." Bismarck looked at a black cube with a purple core, the cube was placed inside a bulletproof glass box. 

".... Man, you are so disgusting and pathetic." Bismarck immediately stood up and materialized half of her rigging. 

The figure she was aiming at was a woman with white hair, pale skin, sardonic yellow eyes, scantily clad in black and most notably several tentacles on her back. 

"You...! What are you doing here?" Bismarck made a fierce face. 

The figure only rolled her eyeballs, that figure was better known as Observer Alpha, one of the figures that most often appeared at the end of each chapter. 

"You're the one who told me to argue with Tester at the end of every chapter for extra words, man!" Alpha suddenly shouted. 

Bismarck looked at Alpha with confusion, but remained alert. Alpha herself let out a long sigh after yelling. 

"But seriously man, you really suck, what the hell?! You are the Bismarck! The flagship of the Kriegsmarine and the bringer of terror to the Allied Navy! But oh no, here you are languishing and trying to revive the Hood, you're the butt of a joke man!" Alpha said angrily and with mocking tone. 

"Shut up! You're the one who forced me to kill Hood and Piorun!" Bismarck pointed at Alpha with her mechanical hand. 

"Now you're blaming everything on me?! All I forced you to do was implement our technology! Bismarck, you killed poor little Piorun and Hood yourself, you weren't affected by anything else, you murderous bitch!" Alpha said with venom in her tone. 

Bismarck was speechless when she heard that, she wanted to retaliate but Alpha slapped her body against the wall, she grimaced in pain from her unhealed wounds. 

"Don't you talk! You always try to make excuses, every god damn time! When you killed Piorun you said it was a necessity, then when you killed Hood you regretted it? Do you have multiple personalities, bitch?" Alpha used her tentacles to restrain the movement of Bismarck's body and strangled her. 

Bismarck was suffocated and could not say anything, she struggled with all the strength she had but what power, even though Alpha looked tiny and weak, she was one very strong Siren. 

"I.... want the best... For Ironblood!" Bismarck managed to get her words across. 

"The best you say? Dude... You are the most pathetic and disgusting version of Bismarck of all the Bismarcks I've ever met, how can you want what's best for Ironblood when you yourself pushed all your friends away? How are you going to bring the Hood back to life, asshole?" Alpha amplified her strength in strangling Bismarck. 

"Khhh.... Your powers.... is limitless! You guys.... Can do anything... But you're so weak... Dare not act and take advantage of us!" Bismarck countered which made Alpha a little surprised. 

"With... Technology... You! You can.... Do anything without... Consequences! But.... Your willpower is weak... keh... Who's pathetic now?" Bismarck put on a defiant face even though she was almost out of breath. 

Alpha looked into Bismarck's eyes before finally letting go of her tentacle giggles, allowing Bismarck to breathe freely. 

"Never mind, it would be a waste to talk to a bitch like you, I'd rather talk to an ape.... Now, I have a mission for you." Alpha said in a commanding tone. 

Bismarck spat on the floor. "You're ordering me around now? No one can order me around but myself or the Fuhrer."

"See? Pathetic, Bismarck in another world would never let anyone boss her around, but you let that weird mustache fuck boss you around, even though he himself caused all this to happen. Never mind, I have a mission for you, like I said earlier." Alpha said as she crossed her arms. 

"I refuse, I'm busy." Grumbled Bismarck who walked back to her desk. 

"To what, revive the Hood? You should know, Bismarck, she's dead, really dead." Alpha said coldly.

Bismarck stopped, she looked at Alpha with a confused and annoyed look. Alpha went on to say. "She has no hope of coming back to life, man, when you killed her that time, you damaged her Wisdom Cube, you know that thing is too delicate like a baby, right? You know... Right?"

Bismarck widened her eyes, she remembered punching Hood's Wisdom Cube out of her body, she didn't remember anything after that but the most she knew was, it looked cracked and pale in color. 

"No no no .... That... You guys can fix it, right?!" Bismarck walked quickly to the front of Alpha and stopped, her gaze looking like a madwoman. 

Alpha took a step back, she felt uncomfortable seeing a woman as crazy as this Bismarck. Alpha then had a brilliant idea and grinned. "Sure... Of course we can fix it, with conditions of course."

"I'll do whatever it takes! Please.... Help me fix all this..." Bismarck fell to her knees. 

"Including fixing... That?" Alpha pointed to Piorun's head which Bismarck still kept inside the refrigerator with a see-through door. 

"Including her... I'm sorry, Alpha, I'm sorry... I want to fix everything." Bismarck said in a pleading tone. 

"Alright, but you must complete this task at all costs... I want you to kill some Shipgirls for me." Alpha said which surprised Bismarck. 

"You want me to kill more shipgirls after I killed two?!" Bismarck raged. 

"Listen to me first, they are anomalies that should never exist in this time, by killing them you will be doing us a great favor, Siren. Do that and you'll get what you want." Alpha showed some pictures of the 'Anomaly' Shipgirls she was referring to. 

Bismarck looked at the photos carefully, she then looked at Alpha. "When and where can I find them?"

"You don't need to bother looking for them, they will come to you later, just be prepared." Alpha then used her  tentacles to slash through the empty space. 

A portal appeared and Alpha flew into the portal, Bismarck just stared at the sharp figure of Alpha who disappeared behind the portal. 

Unknown to Bismarck or Alpha, U-556 or more familiarly called Parzival, heard and witnessed all that. She sat down while covering her mouth tightly with both hands, she must immediately report this to the highest Kriegsmarine Leader. When Parzival thought about it, she immediately changed her mind, they would never trust a Submarine, but there was one man or woman who would trust Parzival. 

Parzival must sail to Norway, now!

... 

..... 

Local Market, Batavia, Dutch East Indies. 

December 13, 1941.

0900.

Orzel walked while carrying a rattan shopping bag with a smile on her pretty face. She looked around carefully, there were a lot of native people selling their own crops, there were also some KNIL soldiers hanging around, probably they were assigned to security duty. 

She then spotted one of the vendor stands and went up to it, it was selling lots of bananas of all sizes and colors. The vendor, an old lady with a bright smile greeted Orzel. 

"Welcome Noni, please have a look." She said with a smile that didn't fade. 

"Thank you grandma, I want two of those bananas." Orzel pointed to the bananas she was going to buy. 

The grandmother immediately took the order from Orzel and placed it in front of her. Orzel asked. "Grandma, how much for the bananas?"

"5 Gulden for the beautiful Noni." The grandmother said, complimenting Orzel's appearance. 

Orzel blushed and gave her the money. After finishing, Orzel carried the two bananas in her rattan shopping bag. As she was about to continue her walk, she saw some local youths walking around, looking cautious and about to do something before finally entering one of the buildings. 

Orzel instinctively followed them silently and used the superhuman hearing she had acquired from being a Shipgirl.

Orzel trailed the youths, her footsteps quiet as she slipped between bustling market stalls and rows of goods. The air was thick with the mingling scents of tropical fruits, spices, and the faint saltiness of the nearby harbor. Her rattan shopping bag swung lightly at her side, its innocent appearance masking her purpose.  

The building they entered was a modest structure, its wooden walls weathered and its windows half-covered with faded curtains. Orzel paused outside, her superhuman hearing sharpening as she focused on the muffled voices inside.  

"Are we ready? Everything is set for tonight, yes?" one of the youths said, his voice tense but determined.  

"Yes, we have the supplies, but we need more people. The KNIL is everywhere—if they catch wind of this, we're finished," another voice replied.  

Orzel frowned. Supplies? KNIL? Her mind raced. She knew tensions had been rising in Batavia, with whispers of resistance and unrest growing louder as the war intensified.  

"Calm down. We'll move once the sun sets," said a third voice, this one older, carrying an air of authority. "For now, act natural. Blend in. If anyone asks, we're just here to trade."  

Orzel pressed herself closer to the wall, her curiosity outweighing her caution. Resistance fighters? Smugglers? Or something more dangerous?

A creaking floorboard from inside made her pull back sharply. She adjusted her grip on the rattan bag, considering her options. She could leave and report this to the authorities—or she could continue to investigate, trusting her Shipgirl abilities to keep her safe.  

She decided to take a risk. Slipping around to the back of the building, she found a small window slightly ajar. Peering through, she caught a glimpse of the youths huddled around a table. Spread out before them were maps, a few weapons, and stacks of papers that looked like pamphlets.  

"They're planning something big," Orzel muttered under her breath. Her curiosity burned hotter now. She couldn't just walk away.  

One of the youths suddenly looked toward the window, his eyes narrowing. Orzel ducked just in time, her heart pounding. She pressed her back against the wall and took a deep breath. Time to decide—stay and risk discovery, or retreat and gather reinforcements?

The voices inside continued, unaware of her presence.  

"It's for our freedom," the older man said firmly. "For Indonesia's future."  

Orzel’s eyes widened at his words. Freedom? She hadn't expected this. Her mind churned with questions. Were these people heroes in the making, or were they reckless idealists about to ignite chaos in the streets of Batavia?  

She tightened her grip on the rattan bag, knowing she had to tread carefully. Whatever this was, it was far bigger than two bananas and a morning stroll through the market.

“…The Allied Forces are growing stronger in Java every day. Our plans for resistance are becoming increasingly difficult to execute.”  

“Exactly. And with the Shipgirls on their side, our movements are even more restricted. They can track us before we even act.”  

“Is there truly no alternative? Perhaps we could negotiate with some of them?”  

“And let them keep trampling over us? Absolutely not! We must fight against Western colonialism, no matter what. They need to know we won’t let them exploit our land any longer!”  

“What about Bung Karno? How is he holding up?”  

“He’s still in exile. The Dutch extended his sentence because of the Japanese invasion of Sumatra. They fear he’ll ally with the Japanese to destabilize their control over the region.”  

“Regardless of the situation, our struggle must go on. At all costs.”  

At that moment, Orzel decided to act. Approaching the meeting room, she was stopped by two guards armed with Enfield rifles. Both looked young, likely not even in their twenties.  

“Apologies, Miss, but we can’t let you through,” said one of them in halting English.  

Orzel’s piercing gaze made them shift uneasily. “This may sound unbelievable,” she said calmly, “but I know you’re guarding a room where people are discussing rebellion against the Dutch East Indies.”  

The young men flinched, exchanging nervous glances. “How could you possibly—” one started, but before he could finish, Orzel stepped forward. With her enhanced strength, she gently but firmly brushed past them as if they weren’t even there.  

Inside, she found a room filled with tension and purpose. Men of varying ages, some hardened and others youthful with idealistic fire in their eyes, were seated around a makeshift table scattered with maps, notes, and pamphlets. Every face turned toward her, wide-eyed and alarmed.  

Orzel stood tall, her presence commanding yet non-threatening. She took in the scene—a group of people on the brink of history, risking everything for their freedom.  

“Good morning, gentlemen,” she said with a warm, disarming smile. “Perhaps I can be of assistance?”  

...

...... 

“...Did you tell Bismarck about the task?”  

“Of course. It wasn’t easy to convince her, but I managed.”  

“Good... good. That means we can proceed with the experiment without interruptions... right?”  

“Unknown. America is aggressively ramping up their military production. It's far beyond normal, even factoring in our technology. I’ve already dispatched some Lurkers to investigate.”  

“Good. What about Nazi Germany and their plans for the invasion of Great Britain?”  

“They’re still amassing forces in Le Havre, Boulogne, and Normandy. The invasion force now exceeds 350,000. After ten timelines, the most intense battle is about to unfold again.”  

“Heh, finally. This is going to be something. I’m betting on the Alliance to win. What about you?”  

“Germany, obviously. Their momentum isn’t slowing down—it’s accelerating. Even fools would put their money on them.”  

“Sure, sure... we’ll see. By the way, what’s the status of the latest Lurker? Why hasn’t she attacked the Anomalies yet?”  

“Unknown. She’s still monitoring them for now.”  

“Monitoring? That’s unusual. Could the latest model have a bug? I’ll have to run diagnostics when she returns.”  

“...Wait. What is this?”  

“What do you mean—oh, shit! Shit, shit, shit! Another dimensional crack! Quickly, seal it before another Anomaly slips into this timeline!”  

“I’m trying!”  

“...Phew. We managed to block it this time... right?”  

“...No. Damn it. Two of them got through.”  

“Track their entry points immediately! We need to neutralize them before they link up with the other Anomalies!”  

“The Fleet is already en route. Don’t worry, Alpha, we’ll eliminate these new threats. For all mankind?”  

“...For all mankind.”  

TBC. 

Chapter Text

US Naval Base, Guam, Pacific

December 13, 1941 - 1200 Hours

The midday sun bore down mercilessly on the bustling harbor. The searing heat shimmered over the water and the metallic surfaces of the docked warships. Sailors and dock workers moved briskly, sweat soaking through their uniforms as they labored to reload ammunition, unload cargo, and conduct the countless other tasks required to maintain the fleet's readiness. The air was thick with the salty tang of the Pacific, mingling with the acrid scent of fuel and grease from the nearby hangars.

Seated on the bow of the USS Zumwalt, under the partial shade of a wide umbrella, the Kan-Sen Zumwalt herself observed the activity with a calm, composed demeanor. Her elegant figure radiated authority, yet her presence felt approachable. Despite her status as a cutting-edge destroyer given human form, she had quickly bonded with her new escorts. Beside her, sprawled comfortably on the deck, were Francisco, Sandy, Javelin, and Laffey—all enjoying sandwiches Zumwalt had painstakingly prepared that morning.

Francisco, a spirited cruiser with a knack for asking direct questions, spoke up between bites. "Miss Zummy, when are we going to move to attack Japan?"

Zumwalt chuckled softly at her eagerness. "As soon as possible," she replied, glancing over her shoulder toward the busy harbor. "We're waiting for reconnaissance reports. George is out conducting both long-range and close-to-medium-range patrols. Hornet and Enterprise are backing her up with their planes."

"Isn't Miss George tired?" Javelin asked, her voice tinged with concern. "She had the night watch and was in combat just hours ago."

Zumwalt's expression softened, her gaze momentarily distant as she thought of the hardworking battleship. "George is resting now, don't worry. Her planes are flying autonomously under pre-programmed commands. Enterprise taught her how to manage that." She chuckled at the memory of that morning’s encounter, when George had thrown herself at Enterprise's long legs, sobbing like a child in the arms of a caring elder sister.

"Ah, so she's sleeping while the planes do the work..." Javelin mused, her worried expression fading into a sheepish smile. "Looks like I worried for nothing."

"It's okay, J. I'm sure George would be touched that you care," Zumwalt said with a reassuring smile.

"Yeah, Georgie appreciates you, J. That’s just how she is," Sandy chimed in, patting Javelin on the head. The smaller girl flushed at the attention, mumbling something under her breath.

Meanwhile, Laffey, the quietest of the group, fought valiantly to keep her eyes open. Her head bobbed, and she swayed slightly as if on the verge of collapsing into sleep. Zumwalt, noticing her struggle, reached over to gently stroke her hair. Laffey relaxed under her touch, offering a barely audible hum of contentment.

The scene filled Zumwalt with a warmth she found difficult to describe. It had only been a week since she had been "born" into her human form, and moments like this—so ordinary, yet profoundly comforting—were new to her. She sighed softly, letting her gaze wander back toward the harbor. Her sharp eyes caught sight of Cleveland, standing rigidly behind General Maxwell, dressed in an Army officer's jacket.

"Is that part of the new loan program to the Army?" Zumwalt asked aloud, her curiosity piqued.

Francisco nodded, recalling the program’s announcement. "It is. What do you think, Miss Zummy?"

Zumwalt tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I think it’s a good idea for younger shipgirls. It gives them a chance to gain diverse experiences and learn different doctrines. It’s better than being locked into one rigid path."

"Doesn’t the program only apply to Destroyers and Heavy Cruisers?" Javelin asked, tilting her head.

"I think so," Sandy chimed in. "Probably because of their mobility. Battleships would be too slow for the kind of rapid deployment the Army needs."

"Or maybe Naval Command just doesn’t want to risk its ‘precious assets,’" Laffey murmured sleepily, her voice tinged with sardonic humor.

Zumwalt laughed softly, stroking Laffey’s hair again. "Now, now, Laffey, let’s not think that way. It’s important to trust our leadership."

"Mhmm… okay," Laffey murmured, closing her eyes again, her breathing slowing as she drifted closer to sleep.

Javelin giggled. "I didn’t think Laffey would be the type to talk about conspiracies!"

"It’s rational," Sandy said with a shrug, as if such skepticism were perfectly reasonable.

Zumwalt clapped her hands, drawing the group’s attention. "Alright, everyone. Since we’ll likely be setting sail soon, I want you to spend some time exploring the base."

"Why? That sounds exhausting..." Laffey groaned, her eyes fluttering open reluctantly.

"Yeah, Miss Zummy! Why should we wander around in this heat?" Javelin added innocently.

Zumwalt smiled gently at their protests. "Because I want you to meet the people here. The harbor workers, the sailors, even the locals who’ve come to help us. Look at their faces. Watch how they smile despite the hardships. Those smiles are what we—no, you—are fighting to protect. Keep them in your hearts, and let them remind you of what’s at stake."

For a moment, silence fell over the group. They exchanged glances, processing Zumwalt’s words. Francisco was the first to speak, her tone resolute. "If that’s what Miss Zummy wants, then we’ll do it!"

"Right!" Sandy exclaimed, striking a theatrical pose. "Bringing happiness is an Idol’s duty!"

Zumwalt laughed, the sound carrying over the noise of the bustling harbor. For now, this moment of camaraderie was enough. But as the distant horizon shimmered under the blazing sun, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the battles ahead would test their bonds—and their resolve—in ways they couldn’t yet imagine.

1230 Hours

The meeting room was stifling despite the whirring fans struggling to cool the humid air. The walls were lined with maps, tactical charts, and pinned notes hastily scribbled by strategists. Seated around a large oak table were key figures of the United States Armed Forces stationed in Guam, including General Maxwell, Lieutenant General Johnny, and Admiral Halsey, representing the combined Azur Lane fleet.

At the back of the room, Cleveland stood silently, notebook in hand, tasked with recording the key points of the meeting. She was clad in an Army officer’s jacket—borrowed for the occasion—which felt unfamiliar and stifling against her usual naval garb. Though outwardly calm, her fingers tapped the pen nervously against the paper. This was her first time attending a meeting of this magnitude, and the weight of responsibility pressed down on her.

The discussions began predictably: logistics reports, troop movements, and supply shortages dominated the first half hour. Cleveland’s pen moved mechanically, her mind struggling to stay focused. But as the topic shifted to the island’s defenses and the upcoming offensive in Malaya, her interest rekindled.

Lieutenant General Johnny leaned forward, his weathered face etched with concern. "So you see, General Maxwell, Guam is critical. If the Japanese gain a foothold here, they’ll use it as a launch point for further attacks across the Pacific. We cannot afford to lose this base. I strongly recommend reinforcing our defenses immediately." His voice was steady but urgent, reflecting the gravity of the situation.

Maxwell, however, seemed unimpressed. He rubbed his temples and sighed. "I understand your concerns, Johnny, but we can’t afford to divert resources right now. ABDACOM is relying on us for the offensive in Malaya and the Dutch East Indies. That supply chain disruption they’ve pulled off against the Japanese is our best chance to strike hard and fast. We’re needed there, and I can’t stretch our forces any thinner."

Johnny's face flushed with frustration, but he held his composure. "General, if Guam falls, it will be a disaster for our Pacific strategy. The Japanese know how important this base is, and I guarantee they’ll throw everything they have at us."

As the two high-ranking officers debated, Cleveland felt sweat bead on her brow. She wasn’t used to this level of tension or importance. Her role in this room felt out of place, and she doubted whether her presence mattered at all. Still, she dutifully jotted down notes, even as her hand trembled slightly.

Then, unexpectedly, Maxwell turned his sharp gaze toward her. "Cleveland, you’ve been quiet. Do you have any input?"

Caught off guard, Cleveland froze. Her pen hovered over her notebook as she processed his words. "Uh… me, Sir?"

"Yes, you," Maxwell replied, his tone leaving no room for hesitation. "You’re here for a reason, so let’s hear it."

Cleveland swallowed hard and straightened her posture. "If I may, General," she began cautiously, choosing her words carefully, "I agree that waiting for the Marine Corps reinforcements makes sense. But Lieutenant General Johnny is right—Guam is too important to leave vulnerable. The Japanese will almost certainly target us before the reinforcements arrive."

She stepped forward and gestured to the large map sprawled across the table, marked with red and blue indicators. "Instead of remaining entirely on the defensive, I suggest we launch a preemptive strike on the Japanese fleet operating near Guam. If we can eliminate or at least disrupt their naval forces here"—she pointed to several red ship icons encircling the island—"we’ll buy ourselves the time we need to bolster the defenses and bring in reinforcements."

There was a moment of silence as the room absorbed her words. Then Admiral Halsey, who had been observing quietly until now, leaned back in his chair and nodded approvingly. "She’s got a point. If we hit them hard enough, it’ll throw them off balance. We can’t let them control the pace of this war—keep them on their heels at every opportunity."

Lieutenant General Johnny sighed, his earlier tension easing slightly. "That… makes sense. If we can cripple their fleet, it might discourage them from attacking outright until the Marines arrive."

Cleveland, emboldened by their responses, continued. "Yes, sir. With our fleet's superior firepower and coordination, we can launch a swift and decisive attack. Even if we don’t destroy them completely, we’ll stall their plans and reduce their operational capacity around Guam."

Maxwell stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Good analysis, Cleveland. That’s the kind of initiative I like to see." He turned to Johnny, his tone firm but less confrontational than before. "What do you say, Lieutenant General? Can we make this work?"

Johnny hesitated for a moment before nodding. "I’ll defer to your judgment, sir. Let’s proceed with the plan."

"Good. And remember, Johnny, we’re all in this together," Maxwell added, his tone softening. "I know you’re under pressure, but you need to trust your comrades—even if they come from a different branch."

"Understood, sir. Thank you," Johnny replied, looking somewhat sheepish.

With the tension defused, the discussion shifted to hammering out the details of the operation. Cleveland retreated to the sidelines once more, her heart still pounding. She couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride at having contributed to the strategy.

As the officers debated tactics and resource allocation, Admiral Halsey glanced her way with a faint smile. "Good work, Cleveland. Keep that sharp mind of yours ready—we’ll need it in the days to come."

Cleveland gave a small, awkward salute, trying to mask her growing confidence. Despite the pressure and her inexperience, she had proven herself today. She vowed silently to continue learning and improving, for the sake of the mission and her comrades.

Bangka Belitung Waters, Dutch East Indies

December 13, 1941 – 1400 Hours

The waters around Bangka Belitung shimmered under the afternoon sun, but beneath the surface, war raged unseen. The Allied ground forces were locked in fierce combat with the Imperial Japanese Army, inching forward to reclaim the archipelago. Yet, the naval battle below was no less pivotal. Submarines like Orzel and John Warner prowled the depths, disrupting Japanese supply lines with ruthless precision.

The ocean reeked of oil and death. Countless Japanese cargo ships, their hulls torn asunder by torpedoes, spilled their black lifeblood into the waves. Ammunition crates floated aimlessly, many catching fire before sinking into the abyss. Survivors clung to debris, their cries lost to the roar of Allied aircraft overhead.

Inside her submarine, Orzel leaned back in her chair, a faint smile on her lips as she softly hummed Bajka Iskierki, a Polish lullaby that once brought comfort to children during dark times. Her voice was steady, an anchor of calm amidst the chaos.

A crackle came over the radio, followed by the familiar voice of her partner, John Warner. "Beautiful voice as always, Orzy. Ever thought about becoming a singer?"

Orzel laughed, her melodic tones filling the small confines of the control room. "Oh, I've thought about it, Warney. But for now, I think there are slightly more pressing matters—like this ridiculous war and our little dance with the Sirens."

"Ah, yeah. Hard to build a career when the world’s on fire, huh?" Warner replied, her tone light but tinged with melancholy. "Ever think about going home?"

Orzel paused, her fingers running over the smooth metal surface of her console. "Warney... you and I both know we can’t go back. We’re ghosts in our old world. You died with your crew, and I was sunk by the Directorate. They’ve already declare us as heroes. Can you imagine the chaos if we suddenly reappeared? Alive, human, and... well, like this?" She gestured to herself, though no one could see it.

The line went quiet for a moment. Then Warner spoke, her voice subdued. "I just miss them, Orzy. My captain, my crew... They died because of me. I failed them."

Orzel’s expression hardened. "You didn’t fail them. The Directorate is to blame. They attacked first, unprovoked. They’ve always been the aggressors—using their damned 'Ramen' to dominate global markets and fuel their war machine. Don’t carry their guilt, Warney. It’s not yours to bear."

Silence hung between them, heavy as the ocean above. Orzel’s words, though comforting, couldn’t erase the burden Warner carried.

Suddenly, Warner’s voice snapped back to life, urgent and sharp. "Orzy, I’ve got something on sonar. It’s a Japanese convoy... but something’s off."

"What do you mean, Warney?" Orzel sat upright, her fingers poised over the controls.

There was a pause as Warner analyzed the sonar pings, her advanced systems far more sensitive than hers. "They're not using regular cargo ships. These vessels... they’re Siren-designed."

Orzel’s eyes narrowed. "Siren ships? Those bastards are using alien tech to replace the transports we’ve been sinking?!"

"Looks like it." Warner confirmed grimly. "Probably trying to outmaneuver us with their speed and stealth capabilities."

A spark of determination lit in Orzel’s eyes. She tightened her grip on the periscope handles, swiveling it to scan the distant horizon. "Well, we’re not letting them through. If they succeed, the progress our allies have made will be undone. Warney, ready your torpedoes—we’re taking them down."

"Got it, Orzy. Let’s make this count," Warner replied, her tone steely.

Orzel moved swiftly, barking orders to nonexistent crew. The submarine’s engines hummed as they adjusted their position, lining up for an intercept course. Her heart pounded in rhythm with the faint sonar pings, each one drawing the enemy closer.

As they approached, the distinct shapes of the Siren-enhanced convoy came into view. The vessels were sleek and unnaturally angular, their hulls glinting with an otherworldly sheen. Unlike the standard Japanese cargo ships, these moved with eerie precision, their movements almost... alive.

"Targets locked." Warner’s voice came through. "I count four main ships, each heavily armored. Torpedo systems are active."

"Good. Aim for their engines first. Let’s cripple their mobility before we finish them off." Orzel instructed.

The first salvo of torpedoes launched, streaking silently through the depths. Moments later, a thunderous explosion ripped through the water as one of the Siren vessels was struck. The ship shuddered violently before splitting in two, its advanced machinery hissing and sparking as it sank.

The remaining ships veered sharply, their alien design allowing for swift evasive maneuvers. But Orzel and Warner were relentless, their submarines darting through the depths like predators hunting wounded prey.

"Second target down!" Warner called out as another vessel erupted in flames, its twisted metal carcass swallowed by the sea.

Orzel focused on the lead ship, the largest of the convoy. "This one’s mine." She muttered, adjusting her periscope for a perfect shot. With a press of a button, her torpedoes shot forward, striking the enemy vessel dead center. The ship buckled under the force, its hull glowing briefly before imploding.

The remaining Siren-enhanced ships attempted to flee, but their efforts were futile. By the time the battle ended, the convoy was little more than debris floating on the polluted surface.

Warner’s voice crackled over the radio once more. "That’s all of them. Nice work, Orzy."

"Likewise, Warney. Let’s head back to resupply. The war’s not over yet." Orzel replied, though a faint smile tugged at her lips.

As her submarine began its ascent, Orzel resumed her humming, the melody of Bajka Iskierki filling the silent control room once more.

TBC. 

Chapter Text

December 14, 1941
Off the Coast of Guam

The Azur Lane Fleet departed Guam under the command of Admiral Halsey, pursuing a Japanese fleet attempting blockade maneuvers in the area. At the forefront of the operation was George, who launched waves of F-35s and F-18 Super Hornets, each laden with LRASMs. The fighters soared like sleek predators, releasing their payloads with precision, transforming the sky into a flurry of streaking missiles.

Yet something was off. The Japanese fleet, rather than engaging or fortifying their position, seemed to avoid conflict, retreating strategically. The behavior baffled the fleet's leadership, raising silent questions as they gave chase. For hours, the pursuit continued until the enemy’s intentions became clear—their destination was Singapore, a fortified bastion of the Japanese Empire since its capture from the British.

This decision perplexed the Azur Lane Fleet. Why retreat to Singapore instead of falling back to the Japanese mainland? It was a question they had no time to dwell on. Halsey saw the opportunity and seized it.

"Press forward to Singapore." Halsey ordered, his voice resolute. "Landing ships, stay in the rear. We’re not letting them regroup."

As the fleet advanced into range, Zumwalt, stationed aboard her namesake vessel, surveyed the horizon using her VIZ goggles. Beside her stood Laffey, uncharacteristically awake and alert, her usual sleepy demeanor replaced by an intense focus.

Zumwalt cast a fond glance at her companion, ruffling Laffey’s hair gently. "I will protect you, Laffey." She said with quiet determination.

Laffey muttered a soft reply, retrieving a beer bottle seemingly out of nowhere. "I should be the one to say that, Zummy."

Zumwalt frowned slightly at the sight. "Laffey, drink in moderation, okay?"

"Okay, Zummy…"

The calm moment didn’t last long. Zumwalt’s attention snapped back to the horizon as red dots populated her HUD, each symbol representing a target—a mix of airstrips, depots, and defensive installations. The markings came from the F-47 Shrike drones launched earlier by George, whose crisp voice soon filled Zumwalt’s comms.

"Zumwalt, I’ve marked everything. Give us your best fireworks!"

A faint grin tugged at Zumwalt’s lips. Her hands moved with fluid precision, almost as if conducting an orchestra. The twin 155mm railgun cannons on the bow of her ship roared to life, their projectiles arcing across the sky with a deafening thunder. Each impact brought destruction, shaking the earth and igniting flames across the enemy-held city.

For one full minute, the bombardment continued unabated. Over 100 railgun projectiles rained down on Singapore, obliterating marked targets with devastating force. By the time the cannons fell silent, the skyline of Singapore bore the scars of Zumwalt’s fury.

The fleet wasn’t without opposition. Thirty Japanese CAP aircraft descended upon the Azur Lane Fleet, but they were met by Enterprise and Hornet, whose propeller planes intercepted the attackers. The engagement was swift and decisive, with the Hornet planes holding back to monitor the battle.

Cheers erupted across the Azur Lane Fleet as Zumwalt’s bombardment concluded. The soldiers and sailors couldn’t contain their admiration for her precision and power.

George’s voice crackled over the radio again. "All targets hit! Some structures are still standing, but we’ve rendered 85 percent of their positions inoperable. Their airfields are down—they won’t be able to launch planes anytime soon!"

"What about their fleet?"  Halsey’s voice cut through the noise.

"It’s in disarray." George reported. "They’re scrambling to mobilize what they can. Estimated time until readiness: 45 minutes."

Halsey nodded firmly. "Then we attack them first. Azur Lane, forward!"

The fleet surged ahead, each ship brimming with resolve. They would not allow the Japanese to regroup. Victory at Singapore would deal a decisive blow to the Japanese Empire and secure the path to liberation for Southeast Asia.

As the Azur Lane Fleet continued its relentless chase of the Japanese forces retreating to Singapore, an urgent report crackled through the comms.

"Admiral! The ABDACOM fleet is overtaking us from the west. HNLMS De Ruyter is in the front row!"

Admiral Halsey’s sharp gaze scanned the horizon, his decision immediate. "Have them join the formation. Continue the pursuit to Singapore."

"Understood, sir!"

The message was relayed, and the ABDACOM fleet seamlessly merged with the Azur Lane forces, their combined might surging forward. Yet amidst the tactical coordination, a raspy voice broke through George’s personal channel, speaking in a distinct Midwestern American accent.

"Hey George, still alive?"

George’s brow furrowed, her tone irritated at the intrusion. "Huh? Who is this? Please, if this is a personal matter, call on another frequency."

The voice chuckled. "Hehe... George, this is John Warner. Remember me?"

The name hit her like a shockwave. Her eyes widened, and her grip on her glass of iced coffee faltered. She set it down with trembling hands, unable to believe what she’d just heard.

"Warner… You… Alive too?" George’s voice quivered with a mixture of disbelief and emotion.

"Well, the Directorate really played dirty when it killed me. How many of their ships did you sink, old pal?" Warner’s tone was lighthearted, but George could hear the underlying edge of bitterness.

George exhaled shakily. "…Warner, I sunk too shortly after you."

The revelation left Warner momentarily speechless. “…Wow, I'll be damned, looks like Uncle Sam really screwed up big time, huh?"

It wasn’t just surprise that gripped her—there was a deep sadness too. The weight of loss, of betrayal, pressed heavily between them.

George’s mind raced back to the catastrophic moments during the Directorate’s attack. The second Pearl Harbor had been a disaster, with dozens of ships—including her own—lost in the chaos.

"Lincoln?" Warner asked hesitantly, her voice dropping into a somber tone.

"Sabotaged by Directorate special forces," Zumwalt cut in, her voice icy. "Her hull was split open and she flew several meters into the air before her nuclear reactor went into meltdown."

Even for Warner, who had seen the worst of war, this was a blow. "Even Lincoln… The Directorate really hit Uncle Sam hard, huh?" Warner’s fists clenched at the thought of what had been lost.

After a moment, Warner’s tone shifted, confusion creeping in. "Wait, who are you?"

"USS Zumwalt." the response came, curt and to the point. "Member of the Ghost Fleet."

Warner paused, recognition dawning. "Ahhh… Zumwalt. Yes, I’ve heard a lot about you from Commander Duncan. Something about the bombardment that leveled almost all of the Directorate’s military assets in Pearl Harbor and Hawaii. Good job, girl."

Zumwalt’s expression remained unreadable, but there was a faint glimmer of pride in her voice as she replied. "Just doing my duty."

"Commander Duncan himself spoke highly of you. American Hero, eh? Nice upgrade from Navy junk, eh?" Warner teased over the comms, her tone light and humorous.

"Zummy is not junk." A sleepy but unexpectedly sharp voice interrupted. Laffey, who had been listening quietly, suddenly defended Zumwalt with uncharacteristic intensity.

"Uh, kid, I was just joking—" Warner began to explain, but Laffey cut her off.

"She saved a lot of people at Pearl Harbor a week ago. I won’t let you insult Zummy." Laffey said, her tone sharper than ever.

"Yeesh, okay, okay! Sorry, Zummy. Didn’t mean to call you junk." Warner said quickly, realizing she had hit a nerve.

Zumwalt sighed softly. "It’s okay. Laffey, go ahead and sleep."

Laffey grumbled something inaudible but eventually left the frequency.

Warner let out a long breath. "Touchy kid. Anyway, Zumwalt, Commander Duncan’s here with us. Somehow."

Zumwalt’s eyebrows furrowed in surprise. "Commander Duncan? How? That doesn’t make sense."

"We were wondering the same thing. Orzel and I woke up in the middle of the forest, and Duncan and his men were just… there. Like they were waiting for us." Warner explained.

Orzel’s melodic voice chimed in. "It’s true. We’ve been sticking together since then."

"Orzel... The Polish Kilo-class submarine? That Orzel?" Zumwalt asked, incredulity in her tone.

"It’s really me, Zumwalt." Orzel replied with a warm laugh.

Zumwalt’s tone softened, tinged with regret. "Orzel, I’m sorry I was too late to save you. I should have acted faster."

Orzel laughed gently, her voice soothing. "Don’t be. We knew the risks. My crew and I have no regrets."

Zumwalt hesitated before replying, guilt still evident. "Still… If I wasn’t so trash, maybe Port Royal… America… Maybe they’d still be sailing."

The somber atmosphere was suddenly interrupted by Enterprise’s sharp voice. "Uh, guys? Can we save the depressing talk for later? Singapore’s in sight."

Zumwalt straightened, focusing on the task at hand.

Warner grinned. "Alright. Let’s do it, Orzel."

From beneath the water’s surface, Orzel and Warner unleashed twenty cruise missiles, targeting Singapore’s already damaged port facilities. Explosions rippled through the area, leaving the docks in ruins.

Zumwalt joined in, her railguns roaring as she unleashed a storm of projectiles. Alongside her, Laffey, San Diego, Javelin, and the rest of the fleet pounded the remaining defenses. Although some Japanese naval cannons returned fire, their resistance was ferocious but limited.

Meanwhile, the Army’s Higgins boats pushed toward the shore, carrying troops ready for the assault. Onboard one of the craft stood Cleveland, her energy shield fully charged and rigging prepared for combat.

"Sergeant Cleveland! Two minutes!" The driver shouted from the back.

"Alright! Everyone, check your gear!" Cleveland commanded.

The soldiers of the 25th Infantry Division began their final preparations. Some of the younger troops looked nervous but resolute, while the veterans stared ahead, their faces hardened by experience.

As the landing drew near, Cleveland’s sharp eyes caught sight of several Siren hovertanks waiting to greet them. Without hesitation, she made her decision.

"Corporal! Lead them for now. I’ll soften the landing!" Before the Corporal could respond, Cleveland leaped from the Higgins boat, her rigging activating as she skimmed across the water’s surface.

Her 152mm cannons roared, their shells ripping through the air. The projectiles slammed into the hovertanks, disabling several of them and forcing the rest to retreat alongside the accompanying Japanese soldiers.

The path to the beach was cleared, and Cleveland landed with a splash, her rigging still smoldering from the barrage. Behind her, the Higgins boats surged forward, the troops ready to storm the shore.

Cleveland darted forward on the beach, the rhythmic crashing of waves drowned out by the roar of her 152mm cannons. The sky above was streaked with smoke and tracer fire as her shells found their mark, striking Siren combat units and Japanese hovertanks with explosive force. The beach, once pristine, was now a hellscape of fire, metal, and blood.

The enemy's response was swift. From their trenches further inland, Japanese anti-air cannons and Siren railguns spat death toward her. But Cleveland was undeterred. She moved with the confidence of a veteran, her rigging bristling with weaponry, her anti-air guns sweeping the sky to suppress enemy positions. Bullets pinged harmlessly against her armor, but she knew she couldn't hold out forever.

Near a cluster of jagged rocks, a group of soldiers from the 25th Infantry huddled for cover. Their leader, Corporal Reyes, yelled over the chaos, her voice edged with urgency.

"Sergeant Cleveland! Orders?!"

Cleveland didn’t hesitate. "I'll create an opening in the trench! We advance together!"

Reyes nodded. "Understood! Everyone, get ready for close combat!" she barked at her squad, motioning for them to stay close to the Kan-Sen.

Cleveland leveled her cannons at the enemy fortifications, her eyes narrowing as she aimed. With a thunderous blast, a salvo of high-explosive shells hurtled toward the entrenched defenders. The impact was immediate—sand, debris, and screams filled the air as the defensive position was torn apart, leaving a smoldering breach in the enemy’s line.

"Move in!" Cleveland commanded, activating her energy shield as she surged forward. The soldiers followed, their boots sinking into the sand as they dashed for cover behind the towering Kan-Sen.

They didn’t get far before Cleveland’s sharp eyes caught a glint in the treetops. A faint flash—unnatural, out of place.

"Sniper, in the coconut tree!" she warned.

Private First Class Allen snapped his rifle to position, heart pounding. "He's mine!" He squeezed the trigger, and with a single shot, the Japanese sniper tumbled from the treetop, crashing to the ground lifelessly.

"Good job, Allen!" Cleveland praised, but there was no time for celebration. The enemy had taken notice of their advance.

The response was brutal. Machine gun nests rained hot lead down on them, cutting through the air like a storm of steel. Cleveland grit her teeth as her energy shield absorbed the brunt of the fire. But it wasn’t enough—cracks spiderwebbed across the translucent barrier, and in a burst of shattered light, it broke entirely.

"Sergeant!" Corporal Reyes called out, her voice laced with concern as she saw Cleveland flinch from the sheer force of the gunfire.

Cleveland forced a grin despite the pain. "It's okay... Corporal! I'm a Kan-Sen, technically, I'm a ship!"

Even as she reassured them, she instinctively shifted her stance, positioning her armored body to shield the soldiers behind her. Bullets ricocheted off her rigging, but she refused to let a single one of them fall. Then, in the corner of her vision, a faint blue glow appeared—a notification in her mind.

Energy Shield: Fully Recharged.

With a flicker of light, her barrier reformed, shimmering like a protective dome.

Reyes took a deep breath of relief. "Sergeant, do you remember our mission?"

Cleveland gave a firm nod. "Loud and clear. We’re here to destroy the enemy’s anti-tank and anti-ship weapons. Both Siren and Japanese." She paused for a moment before adding, "And if possible, capture any intact Siren units for research. General Maxwell wants them studied."

Reyes clenched her fists. "Then we better get moving. More enemy reinforcements are inbound."

Cleveland turned her gaze toward the battlefield ahead, where the trenchline loomed like the maw of a beast waiting to devour them. "Then let's finish this before they arrive."

With renewed determination, she raised her cannons once more, and the battle continued.

The sun had barely risen over the Singapore coastline when Cleveland and the 25th Infantry moved deeper into enemy territory, the echoes of war resounding through the tropical air. Smoke from burning wreckage billowed skyward, mixing with the salty sea breeze. The once-proud city had become a battlefield, littered with craters, abandoned vehicles, and the bodies of the fallen.

Cleveland led the charge, her 152mm cannons booming as she sent explosive shells crashing into enemy defensive positions. Siren drones and Japanese infantry scrambled to retaliate, but they were met with relentless gunfire from the 25th. The squad moved like a well-oiled machine, taking advantage of every piece of cover as they advanced.

Despite her power, Cleveland was out of her element. Naval combat was her specialty—leading troops on the ground was something else entirely. She found herself hesitating at times, unsure of the best way to give orders in a land engagement. Her instincts screamed at her to push forward like a warship charging into a fleet engagement, but Corporal Reyes was quick to step in.

"Sergeant, focus on covering fire! We'll move up in pairs—Allen, Park, take the left flank! Mendez, Carter, with me on the right! The rest, stay with Sergeant!" Reyes barked, guiding the squad with precision.

Cleveland nodded, her confidence growing. "Got it! Suppressing fire incoming!" She unloaded another salvo into an enemy position, the sheer force of her shells sending debris and bodies flying.

The squad advanced through the ruined streets of Singapore, moving toward their primary target—a heavily fortified gun encampment overlooking the coastline. The Japanese defenders, entrenched behind barricades and automated turrets, put up fierce resistance. Siren combat units, their eerie mechanical forms moving with unsettling precision, reinforced the human soldiers.

"Incoming missile!" Cleveland shouted as a Siren walker locked onto her. She barely had time to activate her energy shield before the impact sent her staggering. The explosion kicked up dust and fire, momentarily blinding the squad.

"Covering fire!" Reyes ordered, and the soldiers unleashed a torrent of bullets at the Siren walker. Cleveland recovered, shaking off the hit, and with an angry grin, she raised her cannons.

"Try this on for size!"

The air cracked as her high-explosive rounds tore through the walker, blasting it apart in a fiery explosion. The Japanese soldiers hesitated for a brief moment—just enough time for Reyes and her team to close the distance.

With swift, brutal efficiency, the 25th stormed the trenches. Allen shot down an enemy officer before he could call for reinforcements. Mendez planted charges on an automated turret, detonating it in a fiery burst. Cleveland, despite her inexperience in close combat, swung her rigging like a battering ram, smashing through cover and knocking enemies aside.

With the gun encampment neutralized, the team moved to their secondary objective—a hidden Siren research facility within the city. Intelligence suggested that the Sirens were conducting experiments here, and General Maxwell wanted them captured alive for study.

They breached the facility under cover of darkness. Inside, the air was thick with the hum of machines and the glow of strange, pulsating lights. Siren androids and Japanese scientists scrambled as Cleveland and her team stormed the laboratory.

The firefight was brutal. Siren combat units, more advanced than the ones they had faced outside, deployed energy barriers and countermeasures. The squad had to fight smart—using grenades, well-placed shots, and flanking maneuvers to gain the upper hand. Cleveland took several hits, her armor dented and scorched, but she powered through, leading the charge.

At the heart of the facility, they found what they were looking for—a Siren commander, unlike the others. This one had a humanoid appearance, clad in sleek black armor, its glowing gold eyes analyzing them coldly.

"Target acquired." Reyes confirmed, raising her Rifle.

The Siren didn’t resist. Instead, it tilted its head as if studying them, then spoke in a distorted, mechanical voice. "Fascinating… humans and KAN-SEN working together."

Cleveland clenched her fists. "Yeah? You won’t find it so fascinating when we’re tearing apart whatever plan you’ve got going on here."

With their objective complete, the squad secured the facility. Cleveland, despite the challenges, had led them to victory—not alone, but with the help of her squad, especially Corporal Reyes.

As they called in for reinforcement, Cleveland looked over the ruined battlefield of Singapore. The mission had been a success, but she knew this was only the beginning.

"Not bad for a ship, huh?" she joked, giving Reyes a tired grin.

Reyes chuckled. "Not bad at all, Sergeant."

TBC.

Chapter Text

December 15, 1941

The coast of Singapore was ablaze with the fury of war. The combined might of the Azur Lane and ABDACOM fleets rained destruction upon the entrenched Japanese and Siren forces in the north. Battleships and cruisers unleashed relentless bombardments, their cannons roaring as they tore through the heavily fortified defensive positions. The sky above was a chaotic battlefield, filled with the distant whine of aircraft engines and the thunderous impact of anti-aircraft fire.

Amid the chaos, Zumwalt, sailed through the smoky waters with Javelin, the energetic Royal Navy Destroyer, by her side. Their mission was precise but crucial: eliminate high-value enemy targets with railgun bombardment to clear the way for ground forces.

Zumwalt’s advanced drone system hovered above the battlefield, scanning the terrain. Her targeting systems marked several enemy strongholds in red—armored bunkers, artillery positions, and hidden supply depots. Japanese defenders and Siren constructs manned these positions, desperately holding their ground against the overwhelming assault.

Her railgun cannon hummed as it reloaded another hypervelocity round. With a calculated breath, she locked onto the largest enemy bunker and fired.

A blinding streak of light cut through the smoke-filled sky. The kinetic projectile struck its mark with devastating force, obliterating the bunker in a thunderous explosion. The shockwave rippled across the battlefield, sending debris and bodies flying.

"Target eliminated." Zumwalt muttered, watching as more enemy positions were marked on her HUD.

Javelin, standing beside her, adjusted her grip on her twin-mounted cannons. "Whoa! That was awesome, Zummy!" She cheered, flashing a grin. "At this rate, the ground troops will have an easy time mopping up the rest!"

Down below, ABDACOM ground forces, composed of British, Dutch, Australian, and American troops, were already securing most of Singapore. The streets were littered with burning wreckage—Japanese Chi-Ha tanks reduced to smoldering husks, Siren automatons sprawled lifelessly on the cracked pavement, their glowing cores dimmed forever.

Despite the overwhelming firepower of Azur Lane and ABDACOM, the Japanese forces fought with unyielding determination. Even when outnumbered, they executed well-planned ambushes, held strategic choke points, and refused to surrender. But they were being systematically outmaneuvered.

The defenders faced relentless bombardments, airstrikes, and amphibious assaults from all directions. The beachheads had fallen, the key supply routes were severed, and their morale was breaking.

Zumwalt observed all of this through her drone feed, a small smile creeping onto her usually composed face.

"If this keeps up, the Japanese will think twice about continuing the fight." She mused aloud. "They might even seek a peace treaty."

Javelin perked up at this, tilting her head. "You really think so?"

Zumwalt folded her arms. "The Pacific front could be settled quickly. If Japan surrenders, we can shift our full attention to the war in Europe. The sooner we end that stalemate, the better."

Javelin let out a thoughtful hum, kicking at the deck playfully. "That’d be nice. War’s been going on too long, and I just wanna go back to having fun, you know?"

Zumwalt nodded, understanding her sentiment. "We all do. But for now, we finish the fight."

As if to punctuate her words, another enemy artillery position was marked on her HUD. Without hesitation, Zumwalt raised her hand, locking onto the target.

"Engaging."

Another railgun round screamed through the air, striking deep into the enemy lines. The siege of Singapore was nearing its end.

...
....

George kept her eyes locked on the radar screen, her fingers tense over the console. The blips were multiplying—300 enemy air units surging southward from Indochina. Her heart pounded, but she steadied her breath. She had been expecting this.

"Admiral, we have a situation," She said into her headset, keeping her voice level despite the mounting pressure. "300 enemy aircraft inbound from the north. I'm moving to intercept."

There was a brief pause before Admiral Halsey's voice crackled over the comms, firm yet laced with concern.

"Understood, George. Be careful. Enterprise and Hornet are en route to assist. Hold the line until they arrive."

"Roger that, sir."

She exhaled sharply. Her air formation—over 60 F-35Cs—was already primed for engagement, their air-to-air missiles loaded and targeting systems online. George didn't hesitate.

"Break into three squadrons and prepare for BVR engagement." She commanded. "Lock onto targets and fire at will."

A chorus of robotic affirmatives rang through her earpiece as the modern jets took position, their stealth coatings gleaming under the sun. Within seconds, the sky was alive with streaks of fire. The F-35Cs launched their AMRAAMs, sending waves of destruction toward the oncoming Japanese fighters. The antiquated Zeros, Hayabusas, and Ki-27s never stood a chance—before they could even close the distance, dozens were torn apart in the initial salvo.

But George knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

Then, the sky rippled.

An eerie hum reverberated through the comms as a hundred unfamiliar aircraft materialized, their sleek, almost unnatural designs cutting through the clouds. Their movements were precise, their formation impossibly coordinated.

"Siren fighters!" Someone from radio shouted.

George clenched her teeth. She had read reports about these spectral enemies, mechanical wraiths that defied conventional strategy. She even face few of them couple of day earlier. Unlike the outdated IJA and IJN aircraft, these were cutting-edge—possibly beyond even her own. Her F-35Cs had gone from hunters to the hunted.

"Keep formation! Prioritize evasion and counterattack where possible!" She ordered. But she could already feel the nervousness on her planes, as if they scared. They weren’t just fighting history—they were fighting the unknown.

Then, a familiar voice cut through the comms, light and confident.

"On your right!"

A streak of blue and white zipped past her bridge, followed by a formation of F4F Wildcats. The aircraft were old, but the way they moved was anything but. And leading them—her silver hair flowing, eyes sharp as steel—was Enterprise.

George’s lips curled into a smirk.

"Heh, thanks for the help."

"Hey, anything for My dear Junior." Enterprise’s voice was playful, but the way she maneuvered her aircraft was nothing short of lethal.

A second formation roared into view—Hornet, her golden locks catching the sunlight, leading another squadron of Wildcats. The sky erupted into chaos as the KAN-SEN joined the fray.

Side by side, they cut through the enemy ranks, tearing apart Siren fighters with relentless efficiency. George took a breath, pushing one of her F-35C into a tight roll as she lined up her next shot. The battle wasn’t over yet, but with these allies at her side, she knew they had a fighting chance.

And in the storm of missiles, bullets, and burning wreckage, one thought burned in her mind.

This war was far from over.

...
....

Cleveland let out a long sigh, adjusting the high ponytail she had styled her blonde hair into. Usually, she kept it tied to the side, a more casual and carefree look, but today was different. The debriefing with General Maxwell loomed ahead, and she needed to look sharp. Her American Army Officer jacket, borrowed for the occasion, fit snugly over her frame—petite for a grown woman, but her presence more than made up for it.

She gave herself one last look in the mirror, straightened her collar, and nodded. Satisfied.

As she stepped out of the bathroom, she immediately spotted Corporal Reyes leaning against the wall, waiting for her. Reyes, dressed in her standard-issue Army combat uniform just without armor plate, cut a striking figure. The olive fabric suited her well, complementing her tanned skin and sharp features. Her dark hair was tied back into a low ponytail, though a few stray strands had escaped, giving her a slightly unkempt yet effortlessly confident look.

Cleveland smiled. "Corporal, you ready?"

Reyes let out a breath. "Honestly? No. Who’s ever ready to meet the leader of the division?" She scoffed, though the slight smirk on her lips betrayed her nerves.

"Hey, you're my XO. Of course, you’re coming to this debrief." Cleveland shot her a mock scowl.

Reyes rolled her eyes, arms crossed. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Let’s just get this over with. Don’t want to keep the General waiting."

They fell into step, walking side by side through the hastily secured hallways of the Singapore mayor’s building—now serving as General Maxwell’s temporary headquarters. The scent of dust, gunpowder, and sweat still clung to the air, remnants of the battle that had only just begun. They passed several soldiers from the 25th Infantry, their uniforms dirtied from the fighting, and a few of General Johnny’s Marines who offered brief nods of respect.

Cleveland returned the gestures, but her mind was already shifting to the debrief. She knew what she had to say, but would Maxwell see the bigger picture? The Siren research facility they had uncovered could change everything.

Before long, they arrived at the General’s office. The door was already slightly ajar, and inside, General Maxwell sat at his desk, scanning over several reports. He looked up as soon as he heard the knock.

"Ah, good. The two people I’ve been waiting for. Corporal, Sergeant—take a seat." His voice was calm but firm, the weight of command evident in his tone.

The two women sat across from him, backs straight, expressions composed. Cleveland cleared her throat before speaking.

"General, sir, may I begin?"

Maxwell gave her a nod. "Please."

Taking a deep breath, Cleveland launched into the report.

She recounted everything—from their covert landing with a small unit of ten soldiers, including Reyes, to their infiltration deep behind enemy lines. She detailed the destruction of Japanese naval and anti-tank artillery, the harrowing encounter with the hidden Siren research facility, and, most importantly, the capture of a Siren scientist.

Maxwell listened intently, his fingers steepled as he absorbed every word.

General Maxwell sat back in his chair, the leather creaking as he digested the details of Cleveland's report. The dim lantern light flickered against the war map spread before him, casting long shadows over the room. The strategic situation was evolving faster than expected, and the Siren facility captured in yesterday’s battle only added another layer of complexity.

Cleveland stood firm before his desk, her uniform slightly disheveled from the movement of her body. Despite being a shipgirl, she carried herself like a seasoned officer—disciplined, alert, and always ready for the next fight. Beside her, Sergeant Reyes was noticeably more nervous, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She wasn’t as accustomed to standing in the presence of a general, but she kept her composure as best she could.

Maxwell's eyes softened slightly as he exhaled. "Well done, Cleveland. You make me proud." He said, offering a rare smile. "You want another promotion"

Cleveland blinked. Then, realizing he was serious, she grinned. "About damn time, sir."

Reyes merely nodded, still a little stiff in her stance. She wasn't used to promotions happening so casually. Cleveland, on the other hand, was more relaxed—perhaps because she had been Maxwell’s assistant for some time now.

"That's more or less the situation, sir." Cleveland added, finishing her debriefing.

Maxwell leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "I understand the broader picture. Now, let’s set that aside for a moment—I have another assignment for you both."

Cleveland and Reyes exchanged glances. Maxwell wasn’t the type to hand out tasks without good reason.

"Sir?" Cleveland prompted.

"I want you two to select the 30 best troops from the 25th Infantry or the ABDACOM forces stationed here." Maxwell said, his tone firm yet composed.

Cleveland furrowed her brows. "What for, sir?"

Maxwell met her gaze. "We're sending a specialized unit to assist the guerrillas resisting the Japanese occupation. We have sympathizers embedded throughout the islands, and this is a perfect chance for sabotage, espionage, and possibly locating other Siren facilities."

Reyes stiffened slightly. "Sabotage and espionage?" She echoed skeptically.

"You two have a good working dynamic." Maxwell continued, unfazed by her concern. "You already know each other and can adapt to the situation. And don’t worry—you won’t be alone. ONI agents and other Allied intelligence units are already operating in the field. The Japanese won’t see it coming."

Cleveland crossed her arms, processing the mission parameters. Something still felt off. Then it clicked. She narrowed her eyes at Maxwell. "Let me guess… I’m being sent in case we run into a Japanese shipgirl?"

Maxwell grinned. "Bingo."

Cleveland let out a slow breath. "I figured. Right now, Infantry has no weapons capable of taking down a shipgirl. So… fire against fire, huh?"

"Exactly. The Japanese have their own Kan-Sen operating in the region, and we can’t afford to be caught unprepared. You're one of our best assets, Cleveland. If things go south, you’re the only one who can level the playing field."

Cleveland glanced at Reyes, who still seemed unsure. It was a high-stakes mission—one that could get them both killed if they weren’t careful. But that wasn’t anything new.

After a moment, Cleveland sighed and nodded. "Alright. Give us a few days."

Maxwell nodded approvingly. "Make the most of them. We need to disrupt Japanese operations before they can consolidate their hold on the region. This is our golden opportunity."

He reached into his desk and handed Cleveland a thick dossier, the Allied insignia stamped on its cover. "This contains the full operational details. Study it well."

Cleveland took the file and gave a sharp salute before turning on her heel. Reyes followed suit, albeit with a bit less confidence.

As they stepped out of the command tent, the humid night air wrapped around them. The faint sound of distant artillery rumbled in the background, a grim reminder that the war never truly stopped. Cleveland, holding the dossier under one arm, nudged Reyes forward.

"Come on." She said. "We need a place to sit down and go through this."

They made their way through the camp, weaving between soldiers tending to equipment, medics treating the wounded, and mechanics repairing vehicles under dim lanterns. Their destination was the mess hall designated for Allied shipgirls—one of the few places where Cleveland could strategize without being stared at like some mythical being.

As they entered, only a few other Kan-Sen were present, either resting or quietly talking amongst themselves. A faint haze of cigarette smoke lingered in the air. No one paid them much attention.

Cleveland dropped the dossier onto the table and pulled up a chair. Reyes sat across from her, still looking a little uneasy.

"So." Cleveland exhaled, flipping open the file. "We need to pick thirty of the best. No rookies, no second chances. If this mission goes wrong, we won't get reinforcements."

Reyes swallowed. "You think we’ll run into one of them?"

Cleveland didn’t need to ask who she meant. The Imperial Japanese Navy’s shipgirls were deadly, disciplined, and utterly loyal to their cause. If one of them appeared, things would escalate fast.

"We prepare for the worst." Cleveland said. "And if we run into one? We take the shot."

Reyes hesitated but eventually nodded.

Cleveland smirked slightly, trying to lighten the mood. "Besides, I've been itching for a good fight."

Reyes chuckled dryly. "Yeah… let’s just hope we get to pick when that fight happens."

Cleveland glanced down at the classified documents in front of her, the weight of the mission settling in. This wasn’t going to be a simple operation. If they failed, the Japanese would tighten their grip, and the war in the Pacific would take a turn for the worse.

No pressure.

With a deep breath, Cleveland pulled the file closer. "Alright. Let’s get to work."

As Cleveland and Reyes pored over the thick dossier from General Maxwell, the dimly lit mess hall hummed with the quiet murmurs of other shipgirls and officers enjoying a rare moment of rest. The scent of coffee mixed with the distant smell of oil and gunpowder that never seemed to leave the air.

Then, the soft click of polished boots against the wooden floor signaled the arrival of someone new.

A tall, regal woman strode toward them, her presence immediately commanding attention. She was stunning—short blonde hair framing her sharp yet elegant features, piercing blood-red eyes that held an air of authority, and a noble red shirt that contrasted with the practical black skirt she wore underneath. She exuded both the grace of the Royal Navy and the battle-hardened confidence of a warrior who had seen her fair share of combat.

"Cleveland! I finally found you here." The woman greeted warmly, her lips curling into a refined smile.

Cleveland looked up, blinking in surprise before grinning. "Ahh! Wales!"

She quickly turned to Reyes, gesturing toward the newcomer. "Reyes, this is my friend from the Royal Navy, HMS Prince of Wales—a King George V-class battleship and one of Britain's finest."

Reyes immediately straightened in her seat. "Miss Wales, Nice to meet you." She said quickly, though her nervousness betrayed her formal tone.

Wales chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. "No need to be so formal, Miss Reyes. Cleveland’s friends are my friends as well. No need to be so tense."

Reyes let out a small breath, her shoulders relaxing a bit. The Royal Navy battleship had an air of nobility, but she wasn’t unapproachable.

Wales turned back to Cleveland, her gaze shifting between her and the thick dossier. "So, Cleve, what brings you to the mess with the… Corporal?" She squinted slightly, spotting Reyes’ rank insignia.

Cleveland hesitated, fingers tapping the edge of the file. "I, uh… I don’t know if I can tell you that, Wales."

Reyes gave a small nod, reinforcing the need for secrecy. A covert mission was a covert mission, regardless of alliances.

Wales, however, only smiled knowingly. "Oh, come now. You don’t have to be so secretive." She paused, then tilted her head slightly. "Let me guess—General Maxwell of the 25th sent you on a mission in Indochina?"

Cleveland’s eyes widened in shock. "How do you know?!"

Wales let out a soft, amused laugh. "Simple. I received the same order from General Percival. We are allies, remember?"

Cleveland and Reyes exchanged embarrassed glances, feeling momentarily foolish for trying to hide something from an ally who had already been briefed.

Reyes cleared her throat, composing herself. "Apologies, Miss Wales. We didn’t mean to play games with you—we just didn’t know you were included in this operation."

Wales waved a hand dismissively. "It’s quite alright. I merely came to offer cooperation. It’s better to work together in situations like these, don’t you think?" She placed a gloved hand on her hip, her sharp eyes scanning the two women before her. "Besides, I’ve already secured a few men from the British Army who might prove useful for the mission. They can be ungentlemanly but the enemy won't care, right?"

Cleveland glanced at Reyes again, silently asking for her input. Reyes, though still a little hesitant, gave a small nod.

Cleveland turned back to Wales. "We accept your offer, Wales. Thank you."

Wales smiled, satisfied. "You’re welcome. Now… shall we go over that dossier together?" She motioned toward the thick file still in Cleveland’s hands.

Cleveland smirked. "Of course!"

The mess hall grew quieter as the trio delved into the classified dossier, flipping through pages filled with maps, intercepted communications, and intelligence reports.

Cleveland, Reyes, and Wales leaned over the document, their faces illuminated by the dim yellow light of the overhead lamps. Each piece of information they absorbed painted a clearer picture of their mission—one that would take them deep into enemy territory, behind Japanese lines, and into the heart of Indochina’s dense jungles.

"The attack will be carried out in multiple phases." Reyes murmured, tracing her finger over a marked map. "We’ll establish contact with the local guerrillas here, near the border of Laos and Vietnam. Their leader, a former officer from the French colonial forces, has agreed to support us in exchange for weapons and supplies."

Wales nodded. "It’s a fair deal. If we can bolster their resistance, they’ll serve as a useful distraction when we move in to sabotage key Japanese installations."

Cleveland flipped to the next section, detailing the enemy’s composition. "Based on reconnaissance, the Japanese have stationed roughly 15,000 troops in the region. Infantry, tanks, and a handful of artillery units—but that’s not what worries me."

She tapped the list of confirmed Imperial assets.

"Multiple Japanese shipgirls have been sighted in the area. Takao, Atago, and possibly Nagato herself."

Reyes let out a low whistle. "Heavy hitters. If Nagato is involved, that means the High Command sees this place as more than just a strategic foothold."

Wales exhaled sharply. "That’s not all. The dossier suggests there’s more than just Japanese military presence here—Siren facilities have been identified as well. Not just research installations, but fully operational military outposts."

Cleveland frowned, flipping through the grainy black-and-white photos taken by reconnaissance aircraft. The structures were unlike anything the Japanese could have built—massive metallic spires with glowing cores, surrounded by angular buildings that seemed to pulse with an eerie light.

"Siren bases… in Indochina?" Reyes muttered in disbelief. "That means the Japanese aren’t just fighting with the Sirens, they might be collaborating with them on something even bigger."

"Or worse." Wales said darkly. "They’re using the Sirens’ technology to bolster their war machine."

A heavy silence settled between them. This was no longer just about sabotaging enemy supply lines or assisting the resistance—this was about uncovering a deeper conspiracy that could tip the balance of the entire war.

Cleveland let out a slow breath, processing the implications. Then, something else caught her attention.

Wales, sitting across from her, had pulled out a cigarette and was lighting it with a small silver lighter. Cleveland raised an eyebrow as the smell of tobacco filled the air.

"Wait, since when do you smoke?" Cleveland asked, genuinely surprised.

Wales exhaled a thin stream of smoke, her expression unreadable. "Since Hood sank."

Cleveland felt a pang of guilt for asking. She glanced at Reyes, who remained silent, sensing the weight of Wales’ words.

"It’s a coping mechanism." Wales continued, her voice quieter now. "I was there when it happened. When Hood exploded. One moment, she was sailing strong, and the next… gone. Just like that."

The memory seemed to linger in Wales' eyes, a ghost from the past that refused to fade.

Cleveland hesitated before speaking. "I—… I’m sorry, Wales."

Wales gave a faint smile, though there was little warmth in it. "We all lose someone in war, Cleve. I just happen to have lost my closest friend at the hands of Bismarck."

She took another drag from the cigarette, her eyes staring at something far beyond the walls of the mess hall.

Reyes, shifting uncomfortably, finally spoke. "That just means we have more reason to fight, right? To make sure none of this suffering is in vain?"

Wales looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. "Yes. We fight, so others don’t have to endure the same pain."

Cleveland clenched her fist. "Then we better make damn sure this mission is a success."

She closed the dossier with a decisive snap.

Wales crushed her cigarette into a nearby ashtray, standing up. "Agreed. We move forward, together."

Reyes exhaled and nodded. "Then let's get to work."

TBC.

Chapter Text

Allied Forces Mess, Singapore. 

Zumwalt let out a long sigh as she stretched her sore muscles, feeling the ache from a long day’s battle. She had spent the entire day bombarding Japanese positions north of Singapore, near the crossing to Malaya. Only now had the Admiral granted her and Javelin some well-earned rest. Javelin, however, had excused herself early, opting to sleep aboard Zumwalt’s ship. Understandable—she had fought hard alongside her.

George, her friend, was still out flying air assault missions with Enterprise and Hornet. That meant she wouldn’t be back tonight.

That left Zumwalt here, in the dimly lit mess hall, searching for company. War had kept her and her usual companions apart for too long, and Singapore still felt a bit too foreign. Making new friends wasn’t just a luxury—it was a necessity.

As she scanned the room, her eyes landed on a lone figure sitting on a worn-out couch near the corner. His uniform was dull and covered in dust, the telltale signs of a long day on the battlefield. The insignia on his sleeve marked him as a Royal Marine, an officer assigned to ABDACOM, with the rank of Lieutenant.

Zumwalt shrugged. Time to make a friend.

She approached with an easy smile, hands casually tucked into the pockets of her slightly dirtied uniform. "Evening, am I interrupting?"

The Marine started slightly, as if lost in thought before looking up at her. His piercing gaze studied her for a brief moment, an odd flicker of surprise crossing his face.

"Ahh… no, not at all." He finally responded, his voice carrying a distinct British accent. "Are you… a shipgirl?"

Zumwalt chuckled. That question never got old. "I am. The name is Zumwalt, lead ship of the Zumwalt-class. Nice to meet you." She extended a hand.

The Lieutenant took it, his grip firm and calloused. "Lieutenant Thomas J. Jones, Third Royal Marine."

"Lieutenant Thomas, nice to meet you. " She said in a friendly tone.

"It's a pleasure to meet the renowned Pearl Hero."Thomas smirked.

Zumwalt groaned, scratching the back of her head. "Ahhh, that nickname is so embarrassing."

Thomas let out a low chuckle. "Oh, I don’t know. It has a rather nice ring to it."

Zumwalt rolled her eyes but smiled. "So, Lieutenant, what brings you here?"

"Same as you, I suppose. Needed a moment away from the war." Thomas leaned back, his sharp eyes flicking toward the ceiling as distant artillery fire rumbled through the air. "But I imagine it's a bit different for someone like you."

Zumwalt tilted her head. "And what exactly do you mean by that?"

Thomas turned his gaze back to her, smirking. "You ships… you’re different from us. Built for war, yet still human in a way that’s hard to define."

Zumwalt tapped her chin, pretending to consider his words. "Well, that’s one way to put it. But at the end of the day, Lieutenant, loneliness doesn’t discriminate."

Thomas nodded, as if understanding something unspoken. "Lonely, huh?"

Zumwalt gave a small snort. "Oh, you know what I mean, Lieutenant."

He let out an amused chuckle. "Hardy har har, Miss Zumwalt."

Zumwalt folded her arms. "You’re just gonna keep calling me that, aren’t you?"

"Until you start calling me Thomas, perhaps."

Zumwalt grinned. "Deal."

Thomas stood, stretching slightly before gesturing toward the bar. "Well then, Miss Zumwalt—whiskey?"

Zumwalt shook out her slightly dirty blonde hair, a few strands falling over her eyes. "Whatever they serve here."

Thomas watched her for a second, but said nothing. Instead, he simply nodded. "Alright, let's get ourselves a proper drink."

They made their way to the bar, the dim glow of lanterns casting flickering shadows over the polished wooden counter. The bartender, a grizzled man who had likely seen more battles than any of them, slid two bottles of cheap whiskey toward them without a word.

Zumwalt smirked as she picked up her bottle. "Cheers, Lieutenant."

"Cheers, Pearl Hero," Thomas teased, raising his bottle with a smirk.

Zumwalt groaned but clinked her drink against his anyway. They both took deep swigs, the warmth of the alcohol burning their throats as the sounds of war echoed faintly in the distance.

For a brief moment, in this little pocket of respite, they weren’t soldiers or shipgirls. Just two people sharing a drink in a world that wouldn’t stop burning.

Zumwalt leaned against the bar, fingers idly tracing the condensation forming on her whiskey bottle. The cheap alcohol burned, but after today’s battle, it was a welcome sensation. Beside her, Thomas took a slow sip of his own drink, posture relaxed but eyes still sharp, as if he were cataloging every little detail about her.

It wasn’t that she minded—Zumwalt had dealt with all sorts of stares before, atleast this past week since she became human. But there was something about the way he looked at her, like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of her, that made her want to poke at him a little. It kinda remind her of her old Captain...

"So, Lieutenant." She started, giving him a sideways glance. "Do you always stare at women like that, or am I just special?"

Thomas choked on his drink, coughing once before quickly composing himself. "I—" He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "I was just thinking."

"Oh?" Zumwalt smirked, propping her chin up with her palm. "About what?"

Thomas hesitated for a moment, then took another sip of whiskey, as if debating whether to say it. Finally, he set his bottle down and turned toward her. "I was just wondering… how does someone as graceful as you handle something as brutish as war?"

Zumwalt blinked, not expecting that. She had been prepared for something more direct, maybe even cheeky or something about her past. But the way he said it—curious, but also almost genuine—threw her off.

"Hah." She let out a soft laugh, looking down at her drink. "You’re making me sound a lot more elegant than I am."

Thomas hummed, tilting his head. "Am I wrong?"

Zumwalt exhaled, rolling the whiskey bottle between her palms. "I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, I was built for this—war, fighting, strategy. It’s in my bones, wether in future nor past. But…" She pursed her lips. "I don’t think that means I can’t still be human."

Thomas studied her for a long moment before offering a small smile. "No, I suppose it doesn’t."

Zumwalt suddenly felt an odd warmth creeping up her neck, and she cleared her throat. "That was surprisingly poetic for a Royal Marine. You sure you’re not secretly a writer?"

Thomas smirked. "Oh, I have my moments."

Zumwalt let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "Right. Next you’re going to tell me you also recite poetry by candlelight in a trench somewhere."

Thomas pretended to consider it. "If I said yes, would that impress you?"

Zumwalt opened her mouth, but no words came out. A part of her was ready to tease him again, to toss back some witty remark, but something about the way he said it—half-serious, half-testing the waters—made her hesitate.

Instead, she found herself laughing softly, looking away. "I’d say I didn’t expect it… but I kind of do now."

Thomas chuckled, shaking his head. "Then I’ll have to live up to your expectations."

Zumwalt glanced back at him, expecting to find amusement in his eyes, but instead, there was something else—something softer. It was only then that she realized how close they were, shoulders almost brushing.

And then—

"You know." Thomas said, voice a touch lower. "It would be a shame to let such beautiful hair get this dirty."

Zumwalt stiffened slightly, caught off guard. "…What?"

Thomas gestured slightly toward the strands of blonde hair falling over her face. "Your hair. It’s a mess."

Zumwalt instinctively ran a hand through it, feeling the slight tangles formed from the long day of battle. She hadn’t thought much about it—war didn’t exactly leave room for vanity—but now, with Thomas’s eyes on her, it suddenly felt more noticeable.

"I—well, yeah." She muttered, feeling uncharacteristically flustered. "I was bombarding enemy positions all day, in case you forgot."

Thomas chuckled. "I didn’t forget." Then, after a pause, he added. "Would you like me to fix it?"

Zumwalt blinked. "Fix it?"

Thomas tilted his head slightly, smirking just a little. "Comb it. I’ve done it for my younger sister before, though she’d never admit it. And." He leaned slightly closer, voice dropping just enough to make her heart skip a beat. "I imagine you’d be a lot more pleasant to deal with than she was."

Zumwalt opened her mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again.

She hated how warm her face felt.

"You’re serious?" She finally managed.

Thomas shrugged. "Only if you don’t mind."

Zumwalt bit the inside of her cheek. There were a hundred ways she could play this off—laugh it away, turn it into a joke, deflect—but for some reason, she didn’t. Instead, she found herself exhaling, shaking her head with a wry smile.

"You’re impossible, Lieutenant."

Thomas grinned. "I try."

She sighed, ran a hand through her short blonde hair.

"…Fine."

Thomas’s eyebrows lifted slightly, as if he hadn’t expected her to actually agree. Then, his smirk softened into something more genuine.

"Alright then." He said, setting his whiskey aside. "Let’s fix this mess of yours."

Zumwalt rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite hide the small smile tugging at her lips.

Somehow, against all odds, she had found herself a drinking buddy and a makeshift hairdresser in one night.

The mess hall had quieted down, most of the soldiers and sailors having turned in for the night, but Zumwalt and Thomas remained at the bar, engaged in conversation. The initial nervousness had faded, replaced by something more natural—comfortable, even.

Zumwalt found herself watching Thomas more closely now. He wasn’t the cocky type like some of the other officers she had met when she still a ship from Future or as human in the past, nor was he overly stiff and formal. He carried himself with a quiet confidence, the kind that came from experience rather than arrogance. And when he spoke, there was a weight to his words, as if they were carefully measured before being given.

Somewhere between the drinks and the laughter, their conversation turned to the past.

"I was at Dunkirk." Thomas said suddenly, his voice steady but quieter than before.

Zumwalt’s expression shifted. "You were there?"

Thomas nodded. "Third Royal Marines. We were covering the retreat when the Luftwaffe started their bombings." He let out a breath. "It was… hellish. Smoke, fire, the sound of gunfire everywhere. I saw men running into the sea just to escape. Some of them made it. Others…" He trailed off, shaking his head.

Zumwalt didn’t say anything at first. She just watched him, noticing the way his fingers lightly tapped against the bar, as if the memories were still alive in his mind.

"I don’t remember how I got onto one of the last ships." Thomas continued. "One moment, I was on the beach, thinking it was the end. The next, I was being pulled aboard by some sailor who barely looked older than eighteen. By the time we reached England, I felt like a ghost."

Zumwalt exhaled, letting his words settle between them. She had seen her fair share of battles, but war had always been different for shipgirls or ships. They didn’t fear death the way humans did, and even when they were wounded, they could still fight as long as their hulls held. But for people like Thomas—humans who bled and burned—war was a brutal, unforgiving thing.

"I’m sorry." She said finally. It wasn’t much, but she meant it.

Thomas glanced at her, then smiled—small, tired, but real. "Don’t be. I made it out. And now I’m here, sharing whiskey with a shipgirl. Life’s strange, isn’t it?"

Zumwalt let out a quiet chuckle. "That’s one way to put it.”

They kept talking, the conversation shifting between lighter topics and shared war stories. They weren’t so different, in some ways. Both had seen battles, both had lost people, and both found themselves in a war that gave little room for rest. Yet here they were, taking a moment to simply exist in each other’s presence.

Eventually, the clock on the wall reminded them how late it had gotten.

"I should probably get back before someone starts looking for me." Zumwalt said, stretching her arms.

Thomas glanced at his watch and let out a soft chuckle. "And I should be heading to the barracks before my commanding officer thinks I’ve deserted."

Zumwalt smirked. "I don’t think deserting means getting drunk with a shipgirl, Lieutenant."

"Well." Thomas said, standing up and offering a hand. "Care to let me walk you back to your ship, Miss Zumwalt?”

Zumwalt hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking his hand, letting him help her to her feet. "Such a gentleman." She teased.

They left the mess together, the humid night air greeting them as they walked along the dimly lit dockyard. The sounds of distant artillery and the occasional roar of aircraft engines still echoed in the distance, a reminder that the war never truly stopped.

They talked as they walked, the conversation meandering from simple things—what food they missed the most, how bad military coffee was—to moments of quiet, where words weren’t needed. The night felt different somehow, like the war had momentarily stepped back to let them simply be.

When they finally reached Zumwalt’s ship, they both hesitated.

"Well, this is me." Zumwalt said, resting a hand on the railing. "Guess this is goodnight."

Thomas nodded, his usual smirk replaced by something softer. "Goodnight, Miss Zumwalt."

She opened her mouth as if to say something, then stopped.

For some reason, she didn’t want to just say goodnight and walk away.

Thomas, too, lingered for a second longer than necessary before finally stepping back. "Get some rest." He said, giving her a small salute before turning toward the officers’ barracks.

Zumwalt watched him go, arms crossed as she leaned against the railing.

She felt… strange.

Not bad, not uncomfortable. Just—

Warm.

It wasn’t like she had never talked to people before. She had her comrades, her fellow shipgirls, the officers she worked with in the Future. But this was different.

With a small sigh, she pushed off the railing and made her way to her quarters.

Maybe it was just the whiskey.

Or maybe—

She shook her head, a small smile forming on her lips.

She’d figure it out later.

.. 

... 

Desember 16, 1941.

Zumwalt woke up to a dull, throbbing pain in her head, groaning as she shifted under her sheets. Maybe she should reconsider how much whiskey she drank last night. She had always assumed shipgirls were immune to alcohol, given their nature—apparently, that was a very wrong assumption.

She slowly sat up, rubbing her temples. The room was quiet except for the faint creaking of the ship around her, the gentle sound of waves lapping against the hull. Despite her headache, a small smile tugged at her lips as she recalled the events of the previous night—her conversation with Lieutenant Thomas, the way his British accent made even simple words sound refined, and how oddly at ease she had felt around him. It was a rare feeling, one she wasn’t sure she had the luxury to indulge in during wartime.

With a sigh, she got up, stretching out the stiffness in her limbs before heading toward the galley.

When she arrived, the usual suspects were already there—Javelin, San Diego, Laffey, and San Francisco, all gathered around the table, chatting animatedly over breakfast.

"Morning, everyone." Zumwalt greeted, stifling a yawn.

"Morning, Miss Zummy!" They all replied in cheerful unison.

Javelin, ever the thoughtful one, immediately approached her with a cup of steaming coffee. Zumwalt accepted it gratefully, taking a long sip, feeling the warmth spread through her.

"You're a lifesaver, J." She muttered, sighing in contentment.

Javelin beamed. "What's for breakfast this time, J?" Zumwalt asked, glancing at the plates on the table.

"Just a simple sandwich, nothing too special." Javelin said sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Bullshit." San Diego, San Francisco, and Laffey chimed in simultaneously.

Zumwalt chuckled as Javelin’s cheeks flushed at the unexpected praise. She took a seat, savoring the moment of peace—until she noticed Francisco giving her a particularly mischievous look.

"So… Miss Zummy." Francisco started, leaning forward on her elbows. "Who was that handsome gentleman you were with last night?"

Zumwalt stiffened mid-sip. She lowered her cup slowly, already feeling the heat creeping up her face.

San Diego smirked. "Oh yeah, I saw him too. That guy looked real put together. Tall, good posture, disciplined… very military."

"Handsome." Francisco added.

"Very handsome." San Diego agreed.

Zumwalt groaned, dropping her head onto the table. "Seriously? It was one conversation!"

Francisco wiggled her eyebrows. "One conversation that ended with a late-night walk back to your ship."

Javelin gasped dramatically. "Did he escort you?"

Zumwalt covered her face with her hands. "You’re all insufferable."

Laffey, who had been watching quietly, tilted her head slightly, blinking in that half-awake, sleepy way of hers. "Zumwalt is talking to a man?" She murmured, as if processing the idea for the first time.

Zumwalt shot her a suspicious look. "Yes, and that’s normal, Laffey."

Laffey blinked again, still looking half-dazed. Then, in the most deadpan voice, she muttered, "Maybe I should talk to him too."

Zumwalt almost choked on her coffee. "Excuse me?!"

Laffey took a slow, deliberate bite of her sandwich, staring at Zumwalt with an unreadable expression.

Francisco laughed loudly. "Oh-ho! Look at that, Zummy, you’ve got competition!"

Zumwalt groaned again, slumping back in her chair. "I hate all of you."

Javelin patted her back reassuringly. "That’s okay! We still love you."

Despite her protests, Zumwalt couldn't suppress the warmth that lingered in her chest. Maybe—just maybe—her friends weren't entirely wrong.

... 

.... 

Imperial Japanese Southern Forces Base, Saigon, Indochina. 

December 16, 1941.

The sun hung low over Saigon, its golden light spilling over the sprawling military base like liquid fire. The scent of oil, gunpowder, and the humid air of Indochina mixed together, creating an atmosphere both tense and electric. War had engulfed the Pacific, and yet, here in Saigon, a different kind of battle was about to unfold.

Takao exhaled sharply, her grip tightening around the hilt of her katana. The rhythmic swish of her blade slicing through the air had been her sole companion that morning. A hundred swings, precise and measured, each one an attempt to bring clarity to her mind—yet the haze of uncertainty remained.

The orders from the Navy had been frustratingly vague. She and Atago were meant to be at the Battle of Bangka Belitung alongside Kaga and other shipgirls. Instead, they had been reassigned to the Army. The rivalry between the Imperial Army and Navy had always been a known thorn, but this… This felt deliberate. Unhealthy, even.

Takao frowned. She was a warrior, a shipgirl forged in battle, not some decoration to be paraded around by arrogant Army officers. Her sharp brown eyes narrowed. She would obey orders, but she would not be complacent.

Behind her, the crisp sound of boots approaching broke her thoughts. A familiar presence—mischievous, playful, and utterly exasperating.

Before she could react, a pair of soft hands reached around and groped her chest.

Takao growled, already knowing who the culprit was.

Atago." She hissed. "Stop this nonsense."

A playful giggle followed.

"Hehe~ Takao!"

Atago’s voice was filled with amusement, completely unbothered by her sister’s irritation. She leaned in, her cheek brushing against Takao’s shoulder as she rested her weight against her. Dressed in the crisp white uniform of an Imperial Navy officer, Atago radiated elegance. Her long black hair cascaded over her back, a stark contrast against her uniform. The small beauty mark near her lips only added to her allure, making her one of the most captivating figures in the Navy.

And she knew it.

Atago’s fox-like ears twitched, her tail swaying behind her as she sighed dramatically. "The cute boys from the Army have all been sent out on patrol. I’m bored~" She pouted before stepping back, unsheathing her katana in one fluid motion. "So, I thought I’d ask you to spar with me."

Takao raised an eyebrow. It was rare for Atago to suggest sparring. Though skilled, she often preferred teasing and diplomacy over direct combat training.

"Sparring?" Takao folded her arms, studying her younger sister. "That’s unusual."

Atago twirled her katana, the blade catching the sunlight in a mesmerizing dance. "Gūji Nagato will be arriving tomorrow." She said, her voice softening. "Since we’ll be her bodyguards during her Indochina tour, I don’t want anything bad to happen to her."

Takao exhaled. So that was it. Beneath Atago’s flirtatious and carefree demeanor, she was still a warship—a guardian of Japan’s future.

Nagato the Wise Fox. The Gūji or the Head Priestess of Grand Shinto Shrine. 

The name carried weight. She was more than just a battleship; she was the leader of all Imperial shipgirls, a spiritual figure, a guardian of tradition. As Gūji of the Grand Shrine, her presence alone commanded respect.

But she was also a child, in many ways. Small in stature, with delicate fox-like ears and a bushy tail, she hardly looked the part of a war goddess. And yet, she wielded wisdom and authority like no other. Her presence in Indochina was a dangerous gamble. If the Allies learned of her whereabouts, an assassination attempt was all but certain.

Takao sighed.

"Very well, Atago. But don’t blame me if you get a little beat up."

A sly smile curled on Atago’s lips. "Don’t hold back~ Just think of me as an enemy shipgirl."

The two of them stepped back, lowering into their respective stances. The air between them grew heavy with anticipation.

Then, in the blink of an eye, Atago moved.

Her blade flashed, her first strike aimed at Takao’s shoulder—fast, but predictable. Takao deflected it with ease, the clash of steel ringing through the training yard. Atago grinned, her tail flicking playfully as she adjusted her grip.

Takao didn’t waste time. She countered with a quick step forward, pressing the attack. Her strikes were precise, calculated, each one testing Atago’s defenses. To her credit, Atago held her ground, parrying smoothly, but Takao could see it—hesitation, the lack of practice.

"You’re slower than last time." Takao remarked, deflecting another strike and pivoting away. "You’ve been slacking."

Atago huffed, flicking her bangs out of her face. "Excuse me~? I was busy entertaining our dear Army friends~"

Takao rolled her eyes. "Flirting won’t sharpen your sword, Atago."

"Oh, but it sharpens my mind." Atago smirked, launching forward with surprising speed.

Their swords clashed again, but this time, Atago’s blade twisted at the last second, slipping past Takao’s guard. A single strand of Takao’s hair fluttered to the ground.

Takao’s eyes widened slightly. Atago grinned.

"Got you~"

Takao smirked. "Not bad."

She shifted her stance, adjusting her grip. It was time to get serious.

The sparring match continued, their movements blurring as they danced across the training yard. Soldiers had started to gather, watching with awe as two of the Navy’s finest shipgirls engaged in a display of raw skill. Sparks flew as steel met steel, each strike a testament to their years of experience.

Atago, despite her teasing nature, was a formidable opponent. But Takao was relentless.

A well-placed feint. A sidestep. And before Atago could react—

Thud.

Atago found herself pinned against a wooden post, Takao’s blade resting against her throat. A single bead of sweat rolled down her cheek.

Takao smirked, breathing evenly. "You’re still too reckless."

Atago pouted, but her golden eyes gleamed with excitement. "Mmm~ That was fun."

Takao sighed, sheathing her sword. "Go clean up. We have work to do."

Atago stretched, tail wagging slightly. "Fine~ But next time, I’ll be the one pinning you."

Takao rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips.

Tomorrow, they would meet Gūji Nagato. And with war raging across the Pacific, they could only hope that the flames of battle wouldn’t consume them all.

Afternoon. 

The sun had reached its zenith, casting a golden glow over the sprawling base. Takao and Atago walked side by side, their uniforms still pristine despite the intense sparring match earlier. The air buzzed with military activity—soldiers marching, engineers tending to armored vehicles, and dock crews overseeing supply shipments along the riverbanks. Yet, the area they were heading toward was far quieter.

The special building for shipgirls was a stark contrast to the rest of the base. Unlike the rough barracks of the infantry or the steel-reinforced command structures, this facility was built with elegance—traditional wooden architecture blended with modern wartime reinforcements. It was a sanctuary, a place where shipgirls could rest and recover between battles.

As soon as they stepped inside, the air changed. It was cooler, quieter, yet filled with an unspoken tension.

At the center of the room, standing near a low table adorned with maps and reports, was Admiral Tamon Yamaguchi.

The senior officer turned as they entered, his sharp eyes locking onto them with an intensity that made even Takao straighten her posture instinctively. Dressed in his crisp white uniform, medals glinting against his chest, Yamaguchi was the embodiment of a seasoned commander—firm, unyielding, yet deeply respected among the fleet.

"Ah, Takao. Atago." His voice was even, but there was an edge to it. "You took your time."

Takao bowed respectfully. "Forgive us, Admiral. We were preparing ourselves for tomorrow's duty."

Atago, always the more relaxed of the two, placed a hand on her hip. "Hehe~ Is the Admiral worried about us?"

Yamaguchi didn’t react to her playful tone. Instead, he gestured for them to sit. "There are more pressing matters than pleasantries. Sit."

The sisters exchanged a brief glance before taking their seats. Yamaguchi remained standing, his hands clasped behind his back.

"As you are aware, Gūji Nagato will arrive tomorrow." He began, his tone heavy with meaning. "Ensuring her safety is our top priority. The Army is providing additional security, but I am not convinced they are competent enough to handle the threats we may face."

Takao nodded, understanding his concern. The Army was powerful, but when it came to naval operations—or anything related to shipgirls—they lacked experience.

Yamaguchi continued. "Our intelligence suggests that Allied forces in the region are aware of someone of importance traveling through Indochina, though they may not know it’s Nagato herself. We must assume they will attempt something."

Atago leaned forward slightly, her expression more serious now. "An ambush?"

"Possible." Yamaguchi admitted. "But there is something even more troubling."

He stepped aside, revealing a series of documents on the table. One of them was a heavily classified report with the emblem of the Imperial Navy stamped across it.

"The Siren forces have been acting strangely in Indochina."

A chill ran down Takao’s spine at the mention of the Sirens. Otherworldly entities that had once emerged from the depths of the Ocean, wielding technology beyond human understanding. They were neither allies nor enemies in the traditional sense, but their actions had always been unpredictable.

Yamaguchi tapped the document. "They have been moving a bit too.... Freely in this region, interfering with both our operations and those of the Allies. At times, they seem to aid one side, then turn against them without warning. And yet, some of our officers—fools, really—believe we should cooperate with them."

Takao frowned. "You don’t trust them."

Yamaguchi’s gaze hardened. "I refuse to trust them. Whatever their true motives or agreement with our Emperor, they are not ours. Do not be deceived by their promises, their power, or their supposed neutrality. They do as they please, and I fear their presence will only bring misfortune upon us."

Atago exhaled, a rare moment of hesitation flashing across her face. "But Admiral, wouldn’t it be dangerous to turn them into enemies?"

"They are already a danger, Atago." Yamaguchi said firmly. "Do not be naïve."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Takao and Atago had fought alongside Siren-aligned forces before—at times, it had been beneficial. Their technology was unmatched, their strength undeniable. But Yamaguchi’s words stirred something inside them.

Takao folded her arms. "So, what do you expect us to do?"

"Remain vigilant." Yamaguchi’s voice carried the weight of absolute command. "Do not rely on them. Do not trust them. And if they interfere with our mission, you are to report it immediately. Gūji Nagato’s safety comes above all else."

Takao took a slow breath before nodding. "Understood."

Atago, though clearly less certain, followed suit. "Very well, Admiral~ We’ll be careful."

Yamaguchi studied them for a moment before giving a curt nod. "Good. Then prepare yourselves. Tomorrow will be a long day."

With that, he turned and strode toward the exit, leaving Takao and Atago alone with their thoughts.

Takao leaned back slightly, staring at the maps. "Something doesn’t feel right about all of this."

Atago, uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke. "Do you think he’s right?"

Takao closed her eyes for a moment before answering. "I don’t know. But we should be careful."

Atago gave a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Then I guess we’ll just have to watch our backs."

Late Afternoon. 

The sky had taken on a warmer hue, the golden light of the setting sun casting long shadows across the naval base. Takao and Atago made their way through the inner courtyards, where the scent of oil, salt, and burning incense from a nearby shrine mixed in the air. Their thoughts were still preoccupied with Admiral Yamaguchi’s warning, but they had one more matter to attend to before night fell.

At the far end of the base, past the barracks and training grounds, stood a private lounge reserved for high-ranking officers and foreign delegates. It was here that KMS Prinz Eugen was said to be relaxing after returning from a recent mission.

Takao pushed open the sliding wooden door and immediately spotted her.

Reclining lazily on a cushioned bench, Prinz Eugen exuded an air of effortless confidence. Her long, silver-white hair, save for a single red streak, cascaded over her shoulders. Her uniform was... questionable at best. Unlike Takao and Atago, who adhered to strict Kaigun dress codes, Eugen’s attire was an unusual mix of Kriegsmarine formality and personal rebellion. A black, short-cut military coat over a tight-fitting gray bodysuit, stockings that weren’t quite regulation, and a mischievous smirk that never seemed to leave her face.

She glanced up at them, swirling a glass of stolen French wine in her hand. "Well, well… what a pleasant surprise. What brings my favorite Takao-class sisters to my little corner of paradise?"

Atago, ever the social one, sauntered forward with a teasing smile. "Hehe~ Since when did you become a wine connoisseur, Eugen? I thought you preferred beer."

Eugen chuckled, taking a slow sip. "Oh, Atago, dear, beer is for when I want to be loud. Wine is for when I want to be interesting." Her amber eyes flicked between them. "And judging by your faces, I’d say you two didn’t come here for idle chit-chat."

Takao got straight to the point. "We need your advice. You’ve been a bodyguard before, right? When you served under Bismarck?"

Eugen’s smirk faded slightly, replaced by something more thoughtful. "I was." she admitted, setting her glass down. "What about it?"

Takao crossed her arms. "Tomorrow, we’ll be assigned as Gūji Nagato’s personal guards during her tour of Indochina. We need to be prepared for any threats, especially since the Allies might try something."

Atago leaned in slightly. "You were the one who kept Bismarck safe when the whole Royal Navy was after her. How did you do it?"

Eugen studied them for a moment before sighing. "You're both skilled fighters, I won’t deny that. But protecting someone like Nagato? It’s different from combat. Your job isn’t to fight. It’s to prevent the fight from happening in the first place."

Takao frowned. "How?"

Eugen leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "Think like an assassin. Where would you strike? What routes are vulnerable? Who stands to gain from Nagato’s death or capture?" She tapped the side of her head. "You need to be ten steps ahead of any potential enemy."

Atago and Takao exchanged glances, considering her words.

Eugen then let out a dry chuckle. "And, of course, there’s another problem."

Takao narrowed her eyes. "What problem?"

Eugen’s smirk returned, but it carried a colder edge. "The Sirens."

Atago tilted her head. "You don’t trust them either?"

Eugen scoffed, pouring herself another drink. "Trust? I’d sooner trust a snake to guard a chicken coop. The Sirens play their own game, and we’re all just pieces on their board. One day, they lend you their technology. The next, they turn that same technology against you. They don’t care about ‘sides’—they only care about control."

Takao was taken aback. "But… your country has used Siren technology more than any other nation in Europe. Hitler himself approved the experiments."

Eugen’s expression darkened. "And I despise it."

A cold silence fell over the room.

Takao and Atago had expected many things from this conversation—but not this.

Atago was the first to break the silence. "But… you’re Kriegsmarine. You serve the Führer, don’t you?"

Eugen let out a bitter laugh. "Serve? No, Atago. I exist in the Kriegsmarine. There’s a difference."

Takao’s grip tightened around the hilt of her katana. "So… you’re saying you don’t believe in your own country’s leadership?"

Eugen took another sip of her wine. "I do not believe in my comrades. I do not believe in Bismarck. And the human?" She exhaled sharply. "Germany’s leadership is nothing but old men playing a game of war they don’t understand. And the worst part? They think they understand it."

She swirled her glass, watching the wine spin like a storm caught in a bottle. "Do you know why Hitler trusts the Sirens so much?"

Neither Takao nor Atago answered.

Eugen continued, voice dripping with disdain. "Because he thinks they make him invincible. He believes their technology will win him the war, that they’re some sort of divine gift to the Reich. But the Sirens… they don’t give gifts. They give curses wrapped in pretty packaging."

Takao felt a chill run down her spine. "Then why do you stay?"

Eugen’s eyes softened slightly. "Because if I leave, who will look after my sisters? And what will happen to them?" She let out a small sigh, her usual mask of sarcasm slipping for just a moment. "Germany is my home, whether I like its leaders or not. And so long as my people are in danger, I’ll fight for them… not for the Reich. Not for Hitler. But for the ones who truly matter."

For the first time that evening, neither Takao nor Atago had a response.

Eugen drained the rest of her glass and set it down with a quiet clink. Then, as if sensing the conversation had grown too heavy, she leaned back with a smirk. "But enough about me. You two have a fox-eared priestess to protect, don’t you?"

Takao straightened. "Yeah."

Eugen gave them a lazy salute. "Then take my advice: Don’t trust anyone blindly. Not the Sirens. Not your own high command. Not even each other."

Atago pouted. "Eugen, that last part was a bit mean~."

Eugen grinned. "Heh. Maybe. But I’ve learned the hard way that trust is a dangerous thing in this war."

Takao sighed but nodded. "We’ll keep it in mind."

With that, they stood to leave. But before they could go, Eugen called out—

"Oh, and one last thing."

They turned back.

Eugen’s amber eyes gleamed. "If Nagato does get attacked… don’t hesitate. Kill without mercy. Mercy only make you hesitate and fail."

Her words hung in the air like a death sentence.

And with that, the meeting was over.

TBC. 

Chapter Text

USS Zumwalt Bridge, Port of Singapore. 

December 17, 1941.

The bridge of USS Zumwalt was bathed in a cool blue glow from the holographic projections, its sleek, advanced design a stark contrast to the older warships moored in the harbor outside. The air inside was thick with the mingling scent of polished steel, oil, and the subtle aroma of coffee in metal cups—some officers, hardened by war, clung to caffeine as if it were a lifeline.

Gathered around the tactical table were the most important figures of the Allied war effort in the Pacific: Admiral William Halsey, General Douglas MacArthur, General Gordon Bennett from Australia, General Arthur Percival of the British Army, General Maxwell of the 25th Infantry Division, and high-ranking Dutch officers representing the Royal Netherlands East Indies Army. However, the true centerpieces of this meeting stood among them—four figures who, despite their human appearance, were nothing short of legends in the making.

Zumwalt, the host of the meeting, stood at the head of the table, arms crossed. Unlike the others, she was not clad in the dull khaki of an officer but rather a sleek naval uniform adorned with the insignia of the United States Navy. Her short pale blone comb nicely, and her sharp green eyes radiated confidence. Beside her was George, USS George H.W Bush, her deep navy-blue coat draped over her shoulders like a cape, exuding the authoritative presence of a carrier’s commander. To her right stood Wales, HMS Prince of Wales, a striking figure in a dark red-and-gold military uniform with a saber at her side, representing the honor of the British battleship fleet. Finally, Orzel, the Polish submarine, leaned against the console, her ever-watchful emerald eyes scanning the projections with quiet intensity.

Admiral Halsey cleared his throat, straightening his uniform as he glanced around the table. "Alright, gentlemen… and ladies." His gaze momentarily lingered on the four shipgirls, acknowledging their presence before shifting back to the gathering of officers. "First, I’d like to extend my thanks to Miss Zumwalt for allowing us to use her bridge for this briefing."

"No problem, sir." Zumwalt responded with a small smile.

Halsey nodded and gestured to the massive holographic display above the table, where a three-dimensional map of Southeast Asia flickered into view. The map was marked with colored lines—blue for Allied-controlled territory, red for Japanese forces, and neutral zones in a dull gray. The tactical overlays, developed from reconnaissance reports, detailed enemy supply lines, naval movements, and key strategic positions.

*Well, I’ll get started." Halsey continued, his voice calm yet commanding. "The situation in the Pacific is changing by the hour. As you all know, Hong Kong is under siege. The Japanese have taken heavy losses, but they’re desperate for a decisive victory. We’ve received intelligence from Miss Orzel, who infiltrated the waters off Indochina. According to her reports, several high-ranking Japanese officers and warships have been spotted, including General Sakai, IJN Nagato, and—" He paused momentarily, his eyes darkening. "—something about Yamato."

At the mention of Yamato, an unsettling silence fell over the room. The implications were clear—if Japan was deploying their most powerful assets, the war was about to escalate. And what this about Yamato anyways? 

"For now, intelligence is still limited." Halsey admitted, folding his arms. "But we have an opportunity here. I intend to lead a follow-up assault north along the Indochinese coast. We’ll strike their bases, cripple their supply lines, and keep them off balance until we reach Hong Kong."

MacArthur adjusted his sunglasses and leaned forward. "Why follow the coastline? That’s practically announcing our intentions to them."

Before Halsey could respond, George stepped forward, her voice smooth but firm. "Because we need them to see us, General." Her piercing gaze met MacArthur’s, her words carrying the weight of years of naval warfare experience. Even though she just recently become shipgirls. "If they focus on our movements along the coast, they’ll divert resources away from Malaya and Burma, giving our forces breathing room. And by the time they realize what’s happening, it’ll be too late to stop us."

General Maxwell, who had remained quiet until now, suddenly straightened. "Ah, the Indochina Campaign." He nodded in realization. "This is a feint. You want them so preoccupied with repelling a naval assault that they can’t properly reinforce their land forces in Malaya." His brows furrowed. "Still, it’s a tremendous gamble. Malaya is not fully secure, and if your shipgirls are our main strike force, this puts enormous pressure on them."

MacArthur exhaled sharply, clearly unimpressed with the doubts. "They’re ships." He stated bluntly. "War machines. They were created to brave the fires of war. I understand your hesitations, gentlemen, but let’s be realistic—these young women may look delicate, but they are not weak." His sharp gaze shifted to the shipgirls. "Am I wrong, Miss Zumwalt, Miss George, Miss Orzel, Miss Wales?"

The four of them met his gaze without flinching. Despite the slightly callous phrasing, they could not deny the truth in his words. They were not just women; they were warships, designed for battle, bound by duty.

Zumwalt smirked slightly. "Not wrong, General. But if I may, I’d prefer to be called more than just a war machine."

Wales scoffed, her arms crossed. "Indeed. If we’re machines, we’re the most refined and lethal ones ever created. And we don’t break under pressure."

Orzel tilted her head with a small grin. "Besides, if I can sneak through their waters undetected, imagine what we can do together."

George simply nodded, her confidence unshaken. "We’re here to fight. Just give us the target."

General Percival, who had remained quiet, finally spoke, attempting to ease the growing tension. "Ehem, while I think General MacArthur’s choice of words could have been better, I agree with the sentiment—we need to put our faith in our shipgirls." He turned to Halsey. "What about our reinforcements? We can’t expect them to do all the heavy lifting."

Halsey nodded, gesturing to the map. "We’ll have full carrier support from Enterprise and Lexington, along with surface escorts. The Royal Navy is sending Repulse, and the Dutch have committed their destroyers. Our plan is to push forward with overwhelming force, disrupt their logistics, and strike hard before they can regroup."

A low hum of approval passed through the gathered officers. The strategy was bold, but if executed correctly, it could turn the tide of the Pacific War.

MacArthur leaned back in his chair, satisfied. "Then let’s not waste any more time." He glanced at the shipgirls once more, his expression unreadable. "We’re putting history in your hands, ladies. Make it count."

Zumwalt exhaled, rolling her shoulders. "We intend to, General."

As the initial strategic discussion concluded, the meeting delved into deeper technical details, the air thick with the scent of sweat, ink, and warm steel. Officers leaned over maps, notes were scribbled, and calculations were made on small chalkboards brought in by aides. The shipgirls stood quietly among the human officers, their enhanced understanding of naval combat allowing them to absorb the data far faster than their flesh-and-blood counterparts.

General Maxwell, standing near the corner of the table, cleared his throat. "Gentlemen, while the naval component of this campaign is crucial, we must not forget the land war. Malaya and Burma remain highly contested. If we do not coordinate our efforts properly, we risk overextending ourselves." He tapped the map with the butt of his pointer, tracing a rough line from the Kra Isthmus down into Malaya. "We are deploying mixed units to infiltrate enemy-held positions. British, Indian, Australian, and Dutch troops will conduct deep operations behind enemy lines, engaging in sabotage and intelligence gathering."

The Dutch officer, Major-General Hein ter Poorten, adjusted his collar and added. "These teams will operate under extreme conditions. Jungle warfare in Burma and Malaya will be hellish—thick, humid, and crawling with Japanese patrols. The key is mobility and deception."

MacArthur nodded. "Good. We need our forces embedded before we make any overt moves. But how will these units communicate? We need reliable coordination between land, air, and sea."

General Bennett of Australia leaned forward. "We've already begun deploying signal relay stations along the Malayan coastline. Shortwave radio operators will accompany the infiltration teams, and our air reconnaissance flights will provide cover and relay information." He paused. "Of course, there's the matter of Japanese counter-intelligence. If they catch wind of our plans, they'll respond with brutal efficiency."

Admiral Halsey tapped the table. "And that's why we're sending in shipgirls. If the enemy deploys their own Kan-Sen to counter our advances, we need an immediate response." He turned to Wales and Cleveland. "You'll be spearheading our counter-interception efforts. If the Japanese send their own shipgirls, you will neutralize them before they can disrupt the operation."

Cleveland, who had been silent for most of the meeting, grinned confidently. The light cruiser crossed her arms. "Leave it to me. I’ll keep the bay clear for the boys on the ground."

Wales, standing tall beside her, nodded with a measured seriousness. "Understood. I’ll make sure none of them get through."

General Maxwell rubbed his chin in thought. "If we’re sending Wales into direct combat, does that mean the leadership of the battleship division will be transferred to Repulse?"

Halsey turned toward a British officer, who nodded in agreement. "Yes. Repulse will assume command of battleship operations. Repulse is more than capable of holding the line, but we must consider how the Japanese will react to the sudden loss a crucial Battleship."

The Dutch officer interjected. "The moment they realize battleship command has shifted, they will press their attacks. We need contingency plans."

Zumwalt, who had been standing quietly, observing the flow of discussion, finally spoke. Her voice was calm but carried undeniable weight. "Then we don’t let them realize it. We maintain the illusion that Wales is still in full command while Repulse manages from the shadows. That way, they won’t adjust their strategy until it's too late."

A low murmur of approval spread through the room. It was a classic bait-and-switch tactic, one that played well into the strengths of both human and shipgirl warfare.

Halsey smirked. "Smart thinking. We'll go with that." He turned back to the group. "Now, onto the air support logistics..."

The meeting continued late into the night, covering everything from supply line protection, coordination of amphibious landings, and contingency plans in case of a counterattack. The battle for Malaya and Burma was shaping up to be one of the most intricate and ambitious operations the Allies had ever attempted. 

Officer’s Lounge. 

The meeting had ended hours ago, and most of the officers had long since retired to their quarters or scattered to make preparations for the upcoming operations. The bridge was quiet now, but in a smaller officer’s lounge aboard the Zumwalt, three figures remained, gathered around a table covered in maps, empty bottles, and half-eaten rations.

USS Zumwalt, the host of the gathering, leaned back in her chair, tilting a bottle of whiskey in her hands. Her short blonde hair framed her sharp emerald eyes, which gleamed in the dim light. Across from her sat George, her long red hair tied back loosely, her practical green shirt slightly unbuttoned at the top, revealing the white undershirt beneath. She wore long black pants, and over them, a doctor's coat, an odd choice of clothing—one she had refused to abandon. Orzel, sitting beside George, shared a striking resemblance to Zumwalt, but her features were softer, more motherly. Her hair was slightly longer, and a few knots formed from the humidity of the tropics. She absentmindedly twisted a strand of it between her fingers as she listened.

The air smelled of sweat, metal, and the faint sting of alcohol. They had managed to scavenge—or rather, "liberate"—several bottles from the city’s stores. Beer, wine, whiskey—whatever they could find. No one was going to complain. Not with the war raging outside.

George exhaled, swirling the contents of her glass. "It’s funny, isn’t it? All this talk of strategy, of battles, of history... We’ve already seen how this war is supposed to end."

Zumwalt let out a low chuckle. "Yeah. Pearl Harbor, the fall of Singapore, the Burma campaign... we know exactly what’s supposed to happen. And yet, here we are, rewriting it."

Orzel nodded, taking a small sip of wine. "I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. Some moments of history are meant to happen. But us being here? It changes everything. Maybe for the better... maybe not.”

George leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "If you had told me a few days ago that I'd be sitting here in 1941, drinking with a lot of anthropomorphic warship, I would have called you insane." She let out a bitter laugh. "Hell, I was supposed to be dead. I was sunk by Directorate forces in the Pacific. That was supposed to be my end. But then… I woke up here."

Zumwalt’s gaze darkened. "I know the feeling. One second I was resting in My homeport, the next, I was here, in a time when none of that had even happened yet."

Orzel exhaled, rubbing her temples. "You both had it rough. When I woke up, I was with my Officer and the Team SEAL Six. You don't want to know how rowdy those fellas can be."

George smirked, lifting her glass. "To those bastards. Toughest sons of bitches I’ve ever seen."

Zumwalt raised her own. "To the ones who didn’t make it."

Orzel hesitated for a moment before clinking her glass with theirs. "To the ones we left behind."

They drank in silence, the weight of old memories pressing down on them.

After a while, Zumwalt set her glass down with a heavy sigh. "So, what do you two think? Do we even belong here?”

George scoffed. "Does it matter? We are here. The past, the future—it’s all tangled up now. There's no going back."

Orzel tapped her fingers against the table. "I just keep wondering… if we changed history, does that mean the world we came from is already gone? Or is it still out there, waiting for us?"

Zumwalt shook her head. "I don’t have the answers, Orzel. I just know that we can’t sit around questioning it forever. We’ve got a war to win."

George let out a dry chuckle. "Damn right we do. And if history doesn’t like it? Then history can go to hell."

The three of them drank again, the night stretching on as they talked, reminiscing, and preparing themselves for the battles yet to come.

... 

..... 

Beneath the bustling colonial streets, the laughter of soldiers, and the watchful eyes of Allies patrols, something far more sinister moved in the shadows. A Siren agent had infiltrated the city—Lurker, a shipgirl of the Sirens’ submarine class, modified to blend seamlessly into human society. Unlike the usual Kan-Sen, she was an enigma, an artificial being wrapped in the illusion of flesh.

Her long black hair cascaded to her waist, her skin the deep brown of the native islanders, her eyes a hollow black void reflecting no soul. She wore a simple sarong, woven with batik patterns that swayed with her movement, and carried a basket filled with liquor bottles, the glass clinking softly with each step. The disguise was perfect. To the untrained eye, she was nothing more than a local woman, another shadow in the night.

Yet, her mind was nothing like a human's.

Her black eyes scanned the streets, subtly analyzing the colonial defenses, memorizing every barricade, every guarded entrance, and the patterns of patrol shifts. Each flickering oil lamp and each distant gunshot told a silent story—this city was a battlefield waiting to be conquered.

As she moved along the dirt road, she passed a group of four Dutch soldiers leaning against the remnants of a ruined building, their voices slurred from alcohol, their musk thick with sweat and gunpowder. Lurker said nothing. She lowered her gaze and adjusted her grip on the basket, taking the most non-threatening posture possible.

But the soldiers noticed her.

"Hey, sweet lady, it's not good to be wandering alone at night." One called out, his voice thick with amusement.

Lurker did not respond. The concept of human flirtation meant nothing to her. She was a weapon, designed for stealth, infiltration, and slaughter.

Another soldier stepped forward, reaching out and grabbing her wrist. His grip was rough. "Come now, there's no need to be shy."

Lurker blinked, her mind processing the situation. To human women, this might be a moment of fear, anger, or helplessness. But Lurker was not human. She was neither offended nor afraid. She simply assessed them as obstacles.

"You really are fool…" She murmured, her voice calm, eerily devoid of emotion.

Her free hand twitched, and in an instant, her human façade shattered.

From her arms, long, jagged claws of matte-black metal materialized, curving like the talons of a deep-sea predator. Her expression remained empty as she drove her claws through the first soldier's throat, severing flesh, cartilage, and spine in a single clean motion. Blood sprayed onto her face, but she didn't blink.

The second soldier barely had time to register what was happening before her clawed hand plunged into his chest, fingers wrapping around his still-beating heart. She ripped it out in one motion, letting the body drop limply onto the blood-soaked ground.

The third tried to scream, but his voice was cut short as her claws raked across his stomach, splitting him open from navel to sternum. He fell to his knees, intestines spilling onto the dirt road, his eyes wide with agony as he choked on his final breath.

The fourth soldier stumbled backward, his rifle shaking as he raised it toward her. His face was pale, drenched in terror.

Lurker turned her head toward him, and in a mockery of human emotion, she attempted a smile. But her artificial expression was twisted—her lips curling too wide, her teeth bared in a way no human should. It was grotesque, nightmarish.

The soldier's grip on his rifle faltered. He didn't even have time to scream before her claws ripped through him from groin to sternum, splitting him in half. His remains fell to the ground with a wet thud.

Silence returned to the streets.

Lurker took a step back, her expression returning to its neutral state. She looked at the bodies, analyzing the mess she had made. Efficient. Satisfactory. But it would be problematic if others discovered this scene too quickly.

With methodical precision, she dragged the corpses into the ruins, hiding them beneath rubble and discarded crates. She wiped her claws against a soldier’s uniform, removing the excess blood, before retracting them back into her hands. The disguise was still intact.

She picked up her basket of liquor, adjusting her grip as if nothing had happened.

Humans are so fragile.

With that thought, she continued her mission, vanishing into the labyrinth of Singapore’s colonial streets—just another shadow in the night.

Lurker moved through the dimly lit alleyways, her bare feet silent against the uneven ground. The scent of seawater and smoke lingered in the air, mixing with the distant sound of drunken laughter and the occasional crack of a rifle being fired. Singapore at night was restless, but she navigated it with calculated precision.

Yet, as she turned a corner, her unnatural instincts sent a cold warning through her system.

A figure stood at the other end of the alley, leaning casually against the wall. She was a shipgirl—but not one of the Sirens. No, this one belonged to the enemy.

USS John Warner. A Virginia-class nuclear attack submarine, one of the anomalies Lurker had been tasked to eliminate. The mere sight of her caused a deep, almost mechanical tension to tighten within Lurker’s artificial mind. This was too soon. She had not yet gathered enough intelligence, had not fully mapped out her strategy for sabotage. A confrontation now would be reckless.

Should she kill Warner here? Could she? Or should she escape?

Lurker's fingers twitched slightly, ready to materialize her claws at a moment's notice. Her mind ran through probabilities, calculating Warner’s reaction speed, attack capabilities, and the potential damage a fight in the open would cause.

But Warner… did nothing.

Instead, the American shipgirl gave her a friendly nod, her hands resting on her hips in a relaxed manner. "Late night for a walk, huh?" She mused, her voice carrying a warmth Lurker found strange. "Be careful, yeah? Patrols have been getting more aggressive lately, don't want a cute girl like you get in problem with them."

Then, just like that, Warner turned and walked away.

Lurker stood frozen for a moment, watching as the American’s silhouette disappeared into the night. Even though she was not human, she unconsciously held her breath, as if she had barely avoided a fatal mistake.

She could have fought. Could have turned this into an ambush. But the truth was undeniable—Lurker was not built for direct combat. She was a submariner, an infiltrator, an executioner in the dark. Unlike a surface warship, she lacked the armor and overwhelming firepower needed for prolonged battle. Had Warner suspected her, had she even hesitated for a moment, the encounter could have ended very differently.

Lurker exhaled, a rare display of tension leaving her body. Next time, she told herself. When the conditions are right, she will die.

For now, she had to retreat.

She slipped through the winding paths of the city, avoiding the watchful eyes of soldiers and spies alike. Eventually, she arrived at her temporary hideout—a modest wooden house nestled in the quieter part of town.

The previous occupants had been a local family, a mother, a father, and their two children. Lurker had ‘asked’ them nicely to leave. The father had resisted at first, but after seeing what Lurker truly was, he had chosen compliance over defiance. Now, the house was hers.

Lurker entered silently, locking the door behind her. She placed the basket of liquor on the table, her black eyes scanning the dimly lit room. The walls were lined with simple wooden furniture, a woven mat stretched across the floor where the family once slept. The air still carried the faint scent of cooked rice and candle wax, lingering ghosts of the previous occupants.

For a moment, she stood there, unmoving.

The encounter with Warner played over in her mind. The casual kindness, the lack of suspicion…

Lurker did not understand it. Humans were complicated creatures, unpredictable in their actions. And though she had no emotions—no heart to feel warmth, no soul to recognize kindness—something about that meeting unsettled her.

But it didn’t matter.

She was a Siren. And war had no place for hesitation.

Tomorrow, she would resume her mission.

.. 

.... 

Imperial Japanese Southern Army Headquarters, Saigon. 

December 18, 1941

The tropical heat of Indochina pressed down like an invisible weight, the humid air thick with the scent of diesel, incense, and the distant sea breeze. The sound of marching soldiers, the clatter of trucks, and the distant hum of an aircraft punctuated the bustling military compound.

Gūji Nagato, the living incarnation of the battleship Nagato, stepped out of the black staff car that had transported her from the port. She was a small, delicate figure clad in the white and red robes of a Shinto priestess, her outfit subtly modified to accommodate the movements of a shipgirl. Though her childlike stature often led humans to underestimate her, those who knew her well understood that beneath her serene, almost ethereal presence lay the keen mind of a strategist and the indomitable spirit of a battleship that had once been the pride of the Imperial Navy.

Waiting for her at the entrance of the headquarters stood two familiar figures—her trusted escorts, the sisters Takao and Atago.

Takao, ever composed and disciplined, stood at rigid attention. Her deep black hair was neatly tied, her uniform pristine, and her sharp gaze immediately scanned their surroundings. Beside her, Atago contrasted her sibling with a playful tilt of her head, black locks bouncing slightly as she rested one hand on her hip, her other delicately holding an umbrella to shield herself from the sun.

Nagato approached them, her wooden sandals clacking softly against the stone pavement. She allowed a small, measured smile to grace her lips.

"Takao, Atago. It pleases me to see thee well." She said, her voice calm yet carrying the weight of her station.

Both shipgirls bowed deeply, a flawless 90-degree incline, before straightening with the grace and precision expected of Imperial warships given human form.

Takao was the first to speak. "Gūji, we will be your bodyguards during your stay in Indochina. I assume you were informed of this beforehand?"

Nagato nodded. "Indeed, Takao. It was by my own decree that I requested you both for this duty."

Atago's lips curled into a teasing smile. "Hee~ Did you also arrange for us to be stationed here in Indochina, Gūji?" She asked, her voice light and teasing.

Nagato’s fleeting smile faded, and a sigh escaped her lips. "Alas, would that I had such control over our fates. The truth is… the Navy's situation is dire. The attack on Hawaii was a disaster, Singapore remains unyielding, and as a result, the Army has gained the upper hand in our nation's war councils. Our once-unshakable influence has been undermined."

Takao’s expression darkened at the mention of politics, a subject she neither fully understood nor cared for. It frustrated her to see matters that could be resolved through decisive action mired in human bureaucracy.

Atago, on the other hand, hummed thoughtfully, one gloved finger resting against her chin. "Heee~ Sounds heavy. So, is that the reason you’re here, Madam Gūji?"

Nagato met Atago’s gaze and gave a solemn nod. "Aye, there is much to discuss, but let us not tarry in the open. Lead the way."

The three of them turned toward the designated quarters for the Imperial Japanese shipgirls stationed in Saigon. As they walked, Atago held up her umbrella, shielding Nagato from the merciless tropical sun.

Despite the warmth and the weight of unspoken concerns, Nagato allowed herself a moment of reflection. The world was shifting, the tides of war growing ever more unpredictable. As a shipgirl, as a warrior, and as the spiritual anchor of the Imperial Navy, she knew her duty.

Yet, deep within her, a whisper of uncertainty lingered—like the distant echoes of a storm yet to come.

Imperial Japanese Shipgirl Quarters. 

The room prepared for Gūji Nagato was a sanctuary of silence amidst the chaos of war. Paper sliding doors muffled the sounds of the bustling headquarters outside, and the scent of freshly brewed tea lingered in the air. A low wooden table sat in the center, adorned with maps and documents detailing Japan’s military operations. Candles flickered softly, casting shadows that wavered like restless spirits.

Nagato stood by the window, gazing out at the foreign city under occupation. The lights of Saigon shimmered in the distance, but she found no comfort in them. A deep, unshakable unease had settled in her chest—one that had been growing ever since she departed the Home Islands.

Atago and Takao remained respectfully silent as they removed their gloves and placed them neatly on the table, their postures poised but subtly tense. They had sensed something was amiss the moment they saw Nagato's expression. She was a warship, a guardian of Japan’s might, yet tonight she looked… burdened.

After a long pause, Nagato turned to face them, her aristocratic voice quieter than usual. "Much hath transpired since thine absence from the Home Islands… and none of it bodes well for our beloved Empire."

Takao straightened, her sharp eyes narrowing. "What happened, Gūji?"

Nagato closed her eyes for a moment before speaking. "The government hath bound itself ever more tightly to the Sirens."

Atago’s usual playful smile vanished instantly. "Siren technology… but wasn’t that the plan from the beginning? You were the one who signed the alliance treaty, weren’t you?"

Nagato nodded. "Indeed. I, alongside our so-called allies—Germany, Italy, and the rest of the Axis—sealed that pact with the Sirens, believing it would elevate our dominion over the seas. Yet now, even as I speak, my heart whispers of folly. It… it is not right."

Her voice trembled slightly, an uncommon display of vulnerability from the once-mighty First of the Fleet.

Takao folded her arms. "Technology should be a tool, not a master. Are you saying the government has become dependent?"

Nagato's grip tightened around the sleeves of her priestess robes. "Aye. At first, it was mere assistance—Siren weapons to bolster our fleet, experimental propulsion systems to strengthen our warships. But now… They whisper in the ears of our leaders, and our scientists grow obsessed with integrating their accursed technology into everything. The Empire is no longer merely using the Sirens; the Sirens are guiding the Empire."

A heavy silence filled the room.

Atago was the first to break it. "That… is troubling." She admitted, her voice softer than usual.

Nagato exhaled, her gaze dropping to the floor. "And yet, that is not all that burdens my soul."

She hesitated before speaking again. For so long, she had been a symbol of unwavering loyalty, the might of the Imperial Navy made manifest. Yet now, she felt as though the very steel of her hull had begun to crack.

"Takao. Atago. Tell me… have we strayed from the path of honor?"

Takao tensed, while Atago’s golden eyes widened slightly.

"I have read the reports." Nagato continued, her voice hollow. "The massacres in China. The atrocities in Korea. The suffering in our colonies. I once believed in the destiny of our Empire—to rise, to expand, to become an eternal beacon of strength and peace. But now, I see only darkness in our wake."

She clenched her fists, her small frame trembling slightly. "Is this truly the Empire we swore to protect?"

Atago stepped closer, placing a hand gently on Nagato’s shoulder. Her usual teasing demeanor was gone, replaced by a rare moment of sincerity. "Gūji… I don’t think any of us know the answer."

Takao’s expression remained unreadable, but her hands balled into fists at her sides. "Orders are orders." She said, but even she sounded uncertain.

Nagato sighed deeply, closing her eyes.

"Mayhaps I have been a fool." She murmured. "To think war could be waged without sin."

Atago squeezed her shoulder lightly. "You’re not a fool, Nagato. You’re just… seeing things more clearly now."

Takao finally spoke again, her voice steady. "Then what will you do, Gūji? If you believe the Empire has lost its way… what will you do?"

Nagato did not answer immediately. She turned once more to the window, watching the city below.

"I know not yet," she admitted. "But I shall not be blind any longer."

.. 

... 

Nagato's fingers moved with practiced grace as she poured the tea, the delicate aroma of freshly brewed sencha filling the air. The room had been transformed into an intimate gathering space, with cushions arranged neatly around the low lacquered table. The soft glow of candlelight flickered against the paper walls, casting gentle shadows. A small plate of wagashi—sweet red bean confections—rested beside the teapot, a rare luxury in wartime.

Takao and Atago stood at attention as the guest of the evening entered.

Prinz Eugen, the notorious Kriegsmarine shipgirl, strolled in with her usual mix of defiance and elegance. Her scandalously short military uniform, adorned with the iron cross, was mostly hidden beneath a loose navy-blue robe, an attempt at modesty—or at least, what passed for it in Japan. A smirk curled on her lips as her amber eyes met Nagato’s.

"My, my, what an honor." Eugen purred, bowing slightly with exaggerated politeness. "A private invitation from the First of the Fleet herself. I must say, I expected this war to be dull, but you do know how to keep things interesting."

Nagato, seated in seiza position, merely nodded. "Thank you for coming, Prinz Eugen. Please, take a seat."

Eugen chuckled and gracefully lowered herself onto a cushion, carelessly crossing her legs in a way that made Takao scowl. Atago, meanwhile, chuckled softly to herself, amused by the contrast between Eugen’s provocativeness and Nagato’s restrained elegance.

"It is not often that we shipgirls can speak freely, unburdened by our human overseers." Nagato began, handing Eugen a cup of tea. "I wished to discuss… the future."

Eugen raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of the tea before exhaling contentedly. "Ah, Japanese tea, so refined, so delicate. A pity your government is anything but."

Nagato ignored the jab. "Tell me, Eugen… what news of your homeland?"

The German shipgirl sighed, her smirk fading. "Home? If you can still call it that."

Atago and Takao exchanged glances, sensing a shift in Eugen’s tone.

"Germany is a prison, Nagato." Eugen said, swirling the tea in her cup absentmindedly. "Once, I believed in Bismarck, in our Kriegsmarine, in the dream of our Reich ruling the seas. But now? Now, I see a madwoman at the helm, no better than the Führer she serves."

Nagato's brow furrowed. "Bismarck has changed?"

Eugen let out a dry, humorless laugh. "‘Changed’ would be putting it mildly. She has become obsessed with victory at any cost. She isolates those who question her—even Tirpitz, her own sister, is treated as a traitor for daring to speak against her methods."

Her fingers tapped against the porcelain cup, frustration flickering in her amber gaze. "And me? I was sent to the farthest corner of the world. Exiled to this forsaken ocean, because I had the audacity to say that the Kriegsmarine was losing itself."

Takao frowned. "That… does not sound like the Bismarck we heard of."

"That’s because you only hear what she wants you to hear." Eugen replied bitterly. "She was once the pride of Germany. Now, she is but another tyrant."

Nagato studied Eugen carefully. The Kriegsmarine shipgirl was known for her sharp tongue and mischievous nature, but tonight, there was a raw honesty in her words.

After a pause, Nagato spoke again, her voice quieter. "And the Sirens?"

Eugen’s gaze darkened. "They are the true enemy, Nagato. You know it. I know it. But look at us—look at all of us. Japan, Germany, Italy, even the Americans—they are all dependent on Siren technology now. We have let these monsters into our homes, and they whisper in the ears of our leaders, feeding them delusions of invincibility."

She leaned forward slightly, her expression deadly serious. "I tell you this not as an enemy, but as a fellow shipgirl: the Sirens must be fought. We must destroy them. But not yet. Not now."

Nagato’s fingers tightened around her teacup. "Because our nations are still too reliant on them."

Eugen nodded grimly. "Exactly. The moment we turn against them, our own forces will tear us apart. If we are to rid the world of the Sirens, we must wait. Wait until we are strong enough to break free without being broken ourselves."

Silence settled over the room, heavy with unspoken thoughts.

Nagato finally exhaled, her aristocratic demeanor masking the turmoil in her heart. "Thou speaketh truth, Prinz Eugen. The Sirens’ grasp over our war efforts is tightening, and I fear what lies at the end of this path."

Eugen smirked slightly, though it was laced with sadness. "You’re smarter than most, Nagato. I can only hope you live long enough to act on that wisdom."

Atago, sensing the tension, suddenly clapped her hands together. "Well, well~ Such heavy topics for a tea party. Perhaps we should lighten the mood a little?"

Takao sighed. "Atago, this is not the time—"

"Oh, nonsense." Atago interrupted, winking at Eugen. "Surely our dear German guest didn’t come just to talk about doom and despair? How about a little more tea and—" She traced a playful finger along Eugen’s sleeve. "—Perhaps some finer Japanese hospitality?"

Eugen chuckled, her earlier melancholy melting away for a brief moment. "My, my, such hospitality~ If only the rest of Japan was as welcoming as you, Atago."

Nagato shook her head, but a small, tired smile graced her lips. Atago’s antics, however inappropriate at times, had a way of easing tension.

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, Nagato made a silent vow to herself.

The Sirens had bound themselves to the Empire, and the Empire had welcomed them with open arms. But if what Eugen said was true—if Japan had indeed walked into the jaws of something far worse than war itself—then she would not stand idly by.

She would watch. She would listen. And when the time was right, she would act.

For Japan.

For her fleet.

For all shipgirls who still had the will to fight.

Late at Night. 

The warm scent of tea still lingered in the air, though the mood had shifted from dire strategic concerns to tactical logistics. Nagato, Prinz Eugen, Atago, and Takao now sat around a large map of Indochina spread over the table. Small brass figurines marked key locations—Bangkok, the Malaya-Indochina border, and the southern coast—each a waypoint in Nagato’s planned tour.

Nagato traced a slender finger over the first stop. "Siam shall be our first destination. It is imperative that our alliance with Thailand remains stable. They are willing allies, but their commitment wavers. If we do not reinforce their confidence in our cause, they may be tempted to reconsider their position."

Prinz Eugen leaned back, resting her chin on her hand, her amber eyes gleaming with interest. "Diplomatic pleasantries in Bangkok first, then straight to the frontlines?"

Nagato nodded. "Yes. From Siam, we will move to the Malaya-Indochina border to inspect the Imperial Army's combat readiness. The British forces in Malaya are still holding their ground. We must ensure that our soldiers remain prepared for a prolonged campaign if Singapore does not fall swiftly."

Takao crossed her arms, deep in thought. "And after that, the southern coast? To visit the fleet?"

Nagato sighed slightly, already predicting what was about to come. "Yes. The final stop will be our coastal defenses, where the Imperial Navy’s shipgirls are stationed. If the Allies attempt a naval incursion, we must be ready."

Atago’s lips curled into a playful smile. "Oh my~ A grand tour of our entire operational zone! But, Gūji, have you considered the… risk?"

Takao turned to her sister, already frowning. "She has, Atago. Which is why we must plan her security details carefully."

Atago chuckled and waved a delicate hand. "Exactly! Which is why I suggest a massive motorcade. Long convoys, full of soldiers, armored cars, and banners waving proudly! If any foolish assassin wishes to try their luck, they will realize they are up against an overwhelming force. They will feel small, insignificant… powerless." She clasped her hands together as if savoring the dramatic effect. "Besides, dear Gūji deserves an escort befitting her status~"

Takao, however, narrowed her eyes. "No. That would make us a giant target. A large convoy is difficult to maneuver, easy to ambush, and impossible to conceal. If we are to move safely, we need to be small, swift, and unpredictable. A minimal escort means we can change course at a moment’s notice, slip through the jungle roads unnoticed, and leave our enemies chasing shadows."

Atago pouted playfully. "Oh, Takao, always so serious. Wouldn’t it be sad if our dear Nagato had to travel like a fugitive instead of a dignitary?"

Takao’s expression remained unreadable. "If it keeps her alive, it is worth it."

The two sisters locked gazes, neither willing to back down.

Prinz Eugen, still lounging, took a slow sip of tea, her smirk growing wider by the second. "Well, well. Such passion! Who knew escort duty could be so… entertaining?"

Nagato, resting her chin on her hand, exhaled softly. "I swear, the greatest battles are not fought at sea, but over tea."

Atago giggled. "Ah~ But tea makes everything more civilized!"

Takao sighed. "Civilized? I feel like we are on the verge of a shouting match."

Eugen let out a chuckle. "I, for one, am quite enjoying the spectacle. Perhaps I should write to Bismarck about how the Imperial Japanese Fleet holds its war councils—with debates over tea and sweets."

Nagato finally raised a hand, silencing the growing argument. "Enough. Atago, Takao, your concerns are noted. However, this is my decision."

The two sisters straightened up immediately.

Nagato’s gaze sharpened as she weighed the options carefully. "We shall take a balanced approach. The convoy shall not be overwhelming, nor shall it be too small. A mid-sized escort force will accompany us, with alternative routes mapped in case of emergency. Takao, you will oversee strategic maneuverability. Atago, you will ensure a visible presence where necessary, to deter lesser threats."

Atago sighed dramatically. "Ah~ No grand parade, but at least we won’t be skulking in the shadows."

Takao nodded firmly. "Understood, Gūji."

Nagato turned to Eugen. "And you, Prinz Eugen? What do you think?"

Eugen leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "Oh, me? I think you’re in for a very interesting trip. I may just have to come along~"

Nagato raised an eyebrow. "You would leave your post?"

Eugen smirked. "Let’s just say my… exile here leaves me with plenty of free time. And besides, wouldn’t you prefer another set of eyes on the road? One that isn’t bound by the same loyalties as your officers?"

Nagato considered it. A Kriegsmarine shipgirl accompanying a Japanese diplomatic and military tour was unorthodox, but Eugen’s independent nature could prove useful.

After a moment, she nodded. "Very well. But if you come, you will follow my command."

Eugen placed a hand on her chest in mock seriousness. "Oh, of course. I am but a humble guest, after all."

Takao sighed again, already dreading what trouble Eugen might bring. Atago, however, looked delighted.

Nagato reached for her cup, taking a final sip of tea before setting it down.

"Then it is decided. We leave for Siam at dawn."

TBC. 

Chapter Text

Imperial Base, Saigon – December 18, 1941, Midnight. 

The soft glow of lanterns flickered in the quiet courtyard, their warm light casting long shadows across the stone pathways. Atago exhaled slowly, allowing the cool night air to wash over her. After the long discussions with Gūji Nagato and the others, she needed a moment to herself—to think, to breathe, and to deal with the burdens that no one else could know about.

Takao, ever the loyal companion, immediately noticed. "Atago, if you want some fresh air, I can come with you."

Atago smiled, her brown eyes twinkling with mischief as she waved a gloved hand dismissively. "Oh, no need, dear Takao~ Our beloved Gūji needs you far more than I do right now. Besides, I can handle myself."

Takao furrowed her brows but didn’t argue. "If you say so… Just don’t take too long."

With a final nod, Atago turned and strolled through the courtyard, her long black hair swaying gently with each step. The air was crisp, unusually cold for the season, seeping through the parts of her body left exposed by her immaculate white uniform. A faint shiver ran down her spine, but she ignored it.

As she walked, the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore echoed faintly, a reminder of the vast, dark ocean beyond the safety of the base. The ocean… once the Empire’s greatest strength, now a battlefield of unseen enemies and dangerous alliances.

Before long, she reached the guard post at the edge of the base. A lone soldier stood on watch, gripping his rifle tightly as he tried to maintain his focus.

Atago smirked, stepping closer before clearing her throat playfully. "Hello, handsome~"

The soldier jolted upright, nearly fumbling his weapon as his face turned an embarrassing shade of red. "M-Miss Atago! Wh-what brings you here at this hour?"

Atago placed a gloved finger on her chin, pretending to ponder. "Ohh~ I just thought a little night walk would be nice. The flower fields outside the base are particularly breathtaking under the moonlight, you know~"

The soldier swallowed hard, struggling to maintain his composure. "B-But, Miss Atago, it’s dangerous outside at night! The jungle isn’t safe, and—"

Atago let out a soft giggle before stepping forward, her delicate scent washing over him. She leaned in, pressing a fleeting kiss against his cheek, making him freeze on the spot.

"Be a dear and let me through, won’t you?" She purred, stepping past him without waiting for a response. Her hips swayed with practiced elegance, her uniform catching the moonlight with each graceful movement.

The soldier stood there, paralyzed, his mind struggling to process what had just happened. By the time he turned his head, Atago had already vanished into the night.

Atago walked leisurely along a worn dirt path leading to a vast, open field. The scent of blooming flowers filled the air, mixing with the distant tang of salt carried by the ocean breeze. The field stretched out under the star-studded sky, a sea of white and violet petals illuminated by the pale glow of the moon.

She made her way to a lone sakura tree standing near the edge of the field. Though it was far from home, the tree still bloomed, its delicate petals dancing in the wind. Atago reached out, her gloved hand brushing against the rough bark.

"A shame, really…" She murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Then she heard it.

The faintest rustle of grass. The sound of cautious footsteps approaching from behind.

Atago smirked. "Oh my~ Steward, you really do suck at disguises."

A man in tattered civilian clothes stepped into the moonlight. His face was partially obscured by a scarf, but the sharp glint in his eyes betrayed his identity. This was Steward, an operative of the Office of Naval Intelligence—the clandestine hand of the United States Navy. 

The ONI agent let out an annoyed huff. "Shut up, Atago. The usual guy got sick, so I had to take his place. Now, let’s make this quick. What have you got for us?"

Atago pouted. "Aw~ I liked that cute Vietnamese boy much better. He had charm, you know?" She reached into her uniform and pulled out a small, leather-bound dossier. "But oh well, you’ll do."

Steward stepped forward cautiously, taking the dossier from her hand. He flipped it open, scanning the contents. His expression remained unreadable, but Atago didn’t miss the way his jaw tightened slightly.

"The Gūji’s Indochina Tour route…" He muttered, eyes narrowing. "Are you sure about this?"

Atago folded her arms, her playful tone vanishing. "I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t, Steward. This is a chance. A chance for both sides to prepare. You don’t want an all-out war just yet, and neither do I."

Steward’s grip on the dossier tightened. "That depends on how things play out. If this information is accurate, we’ll hold up our end of the deal."

Atago stepped closer, her brown eyes gleaming dangerously. "You will hold up your end of the deal, Steward. Because if you don’t…" She smiled sweetly, her voice taking on an edge sharper than any blade. "I’ll make sure you regret it."

For a moment, Steward felt a chill crawl down his spine.

He exhaled slowly. "Tch. Noted." With a final glance at the dossier, he tucked it into his coat and turned to leave. "Try not to get yourself killed, Atago. The world’s gonna change soon. Make sure you’re on the right side when it does."

Atago watched as he disappeared into the shadows, leaving only the rustling of the wind in his wake.

She stood there for a long moment, her gaze drifting back to the night sky. The stars twinkled above, indifferent to the struggles of those beneath them.

She closed her eyes and let out a quiet sigh.

"Sorry, Takao… Gūji…" Her voice was barely audible, carried away by the wind. "I had to make a tough decision to save you guys."

The fragrance of wildflowers lingered in the cool night air, their petals glowing faintly under the pale light of the moon. Atago remained by the tree, her hand still pressed against the rough bark, her dark locks shimmering like obsidian in the dim glow. The playful warmth that she had exuded moments before was now gone, replaced by a solemn, almost weary expression.

The distant hum of insects and the occasional rustle of wind through the tall grass were the only sounds accompanying her now. She let out a deep sigh, one filled with the weight of choices that could never be undone.

"A tough decision, huh?"

She didn’t turn around. The voice that spoke from behind her was familiar.

"You’re not as quiet as you think you are, Eugen."

Prinz Eugen stepped out of the shadows, her usual smirk in place but her amber eyes sharp with curiosity. Her posture was relaxed, arms folded across her chest, but Atago knew better. Eugen had been watching. Listening.

"Oh my~ You caught me. How scandalous of me to eavesdrop on a friend’s little midnight rendezvous." Eugen’s voice dripped with amusement, but there was an undercurrent of something else. Something dangerous.

Atago turned, the mirth returning to her eyes, but her stance remained firm. "What do you want, Eugen?"

Eugen took a few slow steps forward, stopping just a few feet away. "Shouldn’t I be asking you that? I wonder what Gūji Nagato would say if she knew her dear Atago was sneaking around, whispering secrets in the night."

Atago tilted her head, her smile unshaken. "Oh, Eugen, you wound me~" She purred. "You say it like I’m some traitor. But I am doing this for the Empire. For Nagato. For Takao. If I have to make a deal with the devil to keep them safe… then so be it."

Eugen’s smirk widened. "How patriotic of you. But let’s be honest, Atago—this isn’t about just them, is it? You’re afraid. You can feel it, can’t you? The way things are shifting. The way our so-called leaders are selling pieces of our future to the Sirens."

Atago’s smile didn’t falter, but her fingers tightened slightly against the tree trunk. "You sound like you already know the answer."

Eugen chuckled softly. "Oh, I have my suspicions. But I’d rather hear it from you." She leaned in slightly, her eyes gleaming in the darkness. "Who was that man, Atago? And what did you give him?"

Atago didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she turned her gaze back to the moonlit sky, a flicker of conflict crossing her usually serene features.

"A way out." She finally murmured. "A way to make sure that if things fall apart, at least some of us will have a chance to survive."

Eugen’s amusement faded slightly, replaced by a look of quiet contemplation. "Hmph. So you do see it, then. The way everything is spiraling out of control."

Atago let out a soft chuckle. "Oh, my dear Eugen, I may play the fool, but I’m not blind. Bismarck is falling apart, and so is Hitler. The Sirens are playing all of us for pawns, and Japan… well, Japan has bound itself to a fate it does not fully understand."

Eugen studied her for a moment before stepping back, hands in her coat pockets. "You’re a dangerous woman, Atago. I like that."

Atago turned to her fully, her smile sweet yet unreadable. "And what about you, dear Eugen? You wouldn’t have followed me all the way out here just for gossip. What do you want?"

Eugen’s smirk returned. "Oh, I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page. And now I see that we are. That’s very reassuring." She gave Atago one last glance before turning away. "Do be careful, though. You wouldn’t want dear Takao to start asking too many questions."

Atago watched her leave, her expression unreadable.

As Eugen’s figure disappeared into the darkness, Atago exhaled, her breath visible in the cool night air. "Questions, huh?" She whispered to herself.

She looked down at her gloved hand, the very one that had just handed over the dossier.

"I’m afraid it’s far too late for that."

With one last glance at the moon, Atago turned and walked back towards the base—towards her duty, towards her comrades, and towards an uncertain future.

December 19, 1941 – South China Sea. 

Cleveland gazed at the endless expanse of the ocean, her sharp eyes following the way the water split effortlessly around her hull. The gentle hum of her engines filled the air as she cut through the waves, carrying her and the team deeper into enemy waters. The salty wind brushed against her face, cool and crisp in the early morning light.

She wasn’t alone. Corporal Reyes stood beside her, her long black hair tucked messily beneath her iron helmet, loose strands swaying with the breeze. Despite the disciplined posture expected of a Marine, Reyes had a casual, almost lazy air about her, arms crossed as she leaned against the railing.

"You’re thinking about something, Sergeant." Reyes said, her lips curling into a smirk.

Cleveland sighed, folding her arms. "Yeah. Just running through the mission in my head. We’ve got a tough one ahead of us."

Tough was an understatement. Their orders were clear: infiltrate Indochina and do whatever it took to disrupt Japanese occupation efforts. Sabotage supply lines, gather intelligence, make life hell for the Imperial Army. But the real prize—the game-changing move—was the possibility of capturing Gūji Nagato herself.

ONI had picked up whispers from an insider, someone deep within the Japanese Navy, claiming that Nagato, the First of the Fleet, was touring Indochina. The implications were staggering. If they could capture her, they wouldn’t just be dealing a humiliating blow to the Imperial Navy—they’d have leverage for future negotiations, maybe even force the Japanese to reconsider their war footing.

But Cleveland knew better than to get ahead of herself. Nagato was a battleship Kan-Sen, a force of nature in combat. Though petite in stature, her power was legendary. Even if she wasn’t often seen on the front lines, she was still the flagship of the Combined Fleet for a reason.

It would take careful planning, precise execution, and no small amount of luck to pull this off.

"How's the situation with the others?" Cleveland asked, snapping out of her thoughts.

Reyes chuckled, shaking her head. "Some of Uncle Sam's boys got seasick. The Brits and Wales are giving them hell for it."

Cleveland smirked. "A bad start, huh?"

"A little humiliation builds character." Reyes said, waving a hand dismissively. "Still, they’ll be fine. They might not have signed up for this kind of mission, but they’re soldiers. They’ll fight for their country, for their loved ones, whatever it takes."

Cleveland picked up the hesitation in Reyes’ voice. She glanced at the corporal, curious. "And what about you, Reyes? No one waiting for you back home?"

Reyes scoffed, rolling her eyes. "My husband left me for some rich, dainty woman. I’m still not sure why the hell we got married in the first place." She let out a slow, bitter sigh, her usual easygoing demeanor cracking for just a moment.

Cleveland was silent for a beat. Then, with a smirk, she nudged Reyes with her elbow. "Well, his loss."

Reyes huffed a laugh. "Yeah. I keep telling myself that. Doesn’t make it suck any less."

Before Cleveland could say anything else, footsteps approached. Wales stood at attention, her usual composed expression giving nothing away as she folded her arms. The British Battleship had been quiet for most of the journey, but her presence carried the same weight as the steel-plated hull of a warship.

"Ladies." Wales greeted, her sharp British accent cutting through the sounds of the sea. "We’re closing in on Indochinese waters. If the intelligence is correct, Nagato is expected to visit several key installations in Saigon and Cam Ranh Bay. Japanese patrols are heavy, and they’ll only get thicker the closer we get."

Cleveland nodded, pulling a folded map from her belt and spreading it against the railing. "We need to land south of Cam Ranh under cover of darkness. It’s one of the few blind spots in their coastal defenses. From there, we move inland, gather intel, and confirm Nagato’s location. If an opportunity presents itself, we take her."

Reyes leaned in, scanning the map. "And if it doesn’t?"

"Then we bleed them however we can." Cleveland said simply. "Blow up their supply depots, sabotage their logistics, and make sure they know we’re here."

Wales studied the map in silence for a moment before speaking. "This mission is high risk. If we fail, the Japanese will know the Americans and British are operating in their occupied territory. They’ll tighten security, making future operations even harder."

"I know." Cleveland said, her voice firm. "But this war’s gonna be long. If we don’t start hitting them where it hurts, we’ll be the ones on the back foot."

The three stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the mission settling over them. In the distance, dark clouds loomed on the horizon, mirroring the storm they were about to walk into.

... 

..... 

The rhythmic splashing of oars against the waves was the only sound accompanying the small wooden boats as they glided toward the dark shoreline. The men aboard rowed in silence, their faces shadowed under the dim glow of the night. Cleveland stood at the stern of the last boat, gripping the wooden frame as she kept a keen watch on the distant treeline.

Her transformation moments ago had been seamless—one moment, she has her fully armed light cruiser cutting through the sea, the next, her warship form had disassembled into thousands of shimmering blue cubes, each one flowing back into her human body like water merging with the ocean. Now, instead of steel armor and 6-inch guns, she was just Cleveland, a shipgirl in a olive military combat uniform, her keen eyes scanning the horizon with inhuman precision.

Beside her, Corporal Reyes sat hunched, her rifle resting against her knee. A Royal Marine sergeant sat across from them, holding a pair of binoculars to his face, scanning the coastline. The salty sea breeze rustled through their uniforms, mixing with the faint scent of jungle decay carried on the wind.

"It's dark." Cleveland muttered, still not seeing any signs of movement ahead. "Wales, are you sure the guerrilla forces are waiting for us here?"

"Rest assured, they will be there." Wales replied smoothly. She sat in the boat just ahead of Cleveland, arms folded across her chest with the calm confidence of a seasoned officer. "Our intelligence cannot be wrong."

Cleveland frowned slightly. "Alright, if you say so…"

The boats reached the shore, the hulls scraping softly against the rocky beach. The men moved quickly, hauling the vessels onto the rocks to prevent them from drifting away. Cleveland stepped onto the damp sand and immediately scanned the tree line. There was movement. A flicker of motion between the dense foliage, shadows shifting in the dark.

"Is that them?" Cleveland asked, tensing slightly.

"Aye, should be." Wales nodded, her expression unreadable.

Moments later, several figures emerged from the jungle, clad in tattered civilian clothing. Their faces were gaunt, eyes sharp with a mixture of exhaustion and determination. Each one carried a rifle—M1 Garands, Lee-Enfields, and even a few captured Arisakas—mismatched weapons that spoke to the guerrillas’ desperate reliance on scavenged arms.

One of them, a wiry man with sharp Asian features and a rifle slung over his shoulder, stepped forward cautiously. His English was rough, spoken with a heavy accent. "Wales. Cleveland. Shipgirls and Allied reinforcements?"

Wales stepped forward, her presence commanding. "Aye, we are. Where is your leader?"

The guerrilla glanced between them warily before gesturing toward the trees. "They wait at base camp. Come, follow us."

Cleveland exchanged a glance with Reyes, who gave a small nod before turning to signal the rest of the joint American-British force to start unloading their supplies and equipment.

The group moved quickly, following their guides into the dense jungle. The foliage was thick, the undergrowth damp from the previous day's rain. The path was barely visible, but the guerrillas navigated it with practiced ease, weaving between towering trees and over gnarled roots.

Cleveland could hear the distant call of nocturnal birds and the occasional rustle of unseen animals in the underbrush. But beneath those natural sounds, there was an underlying tension—every soldier in the group was hyper-aware of their surroundings, their hands gripping their weapons just a little tighter. They were deep in enemy territory now, and the Imperial Japanese forces were not far away.

Their destination was a well-hidden camp, nestled within the jungle near Cam Ranh Bay. Cleveland knew that the bay itself was one of Japan’s most heavily fortified naval bases in Indochina, housing several warships and, according to rumors, multiple Japanese shipgirls. If those rumors were true, then this mission was even riskier than they had anticipated.

The jungle parted to reveal a well-hidden encampment—nothing more than a collection of camouflaged tents and makeshift huts made from palm fronds and salvaged materials. A few dim lanterns flickered in the darkness, their weak glow casting long shadows on the damp earth. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, gun oil, and the faint aroma of rice cooking over a small fire.

Cleveland, Wales, Reyes, and the rest of the Allied force were led toward a large, weathered tent at the heart of the camp. Inside, gathered around a rough wooden table, were the guerrilla leaders—former officers of the French and British colonial forces who had been stranded in Indochina after the Japanese takeover. They had refused to surrender, disappearing into the jungles to wage a desperate resistance against their occupiers.

An older Frenchman, his uniform reduced to little more than a tattered shirt and an officer’s belt, stood at the head of the table. His grizzled face was lined with exhaustion, but his sharp blue eyes burned with determination.

"Bienvenue, mes amis." He greeted, his voice raspy but firm. "We have been waiting for reinforcements for a long time."

Wales nodded. "We’re here now. And we’ve brought supplies, and men."

The French officer exchanged glances with his British counterpart, a lean man with a stiff upper lip and the posture of a career soldier. The British officer gestured toward a hand-drawn map pinned to the table.

"We need to talk about the reason you’re here." He said, tapping a marked location near Cam Ranh Bay. "Nagato will be arriving at the end of her Indochina tour in five days’ time. This is our best chance to strike."

Cleveland leaned in, studying the map. "And the security?"

The French officer sighed. "Heavy. The Japanese are not fools. They know the area isn’t completely pacified, so they will have extra patrols in place. If we start committing sabotage now, they will tighten their defenses even more—or worse, Nagato may cancel her trip altogether."

Wales folded her arms. "So we wait?"

The British officer nodded. "Yes. We use these five days wisely. Rest, gather intelligence, and prepare for the ambush. But no unnecessary actions that could spook them."

Cleveland exchanged glances with Reyes, who shrugged. "Sounds fair. But if we’re not doing sabotage, what else can we do?"

The French officer smirked. "Train. Equip our men with better weapons. And perhaps—if you shipgirls are as powerful as the rumors say—you can help us devise a way to counter the Japanese shipgirls stationed at the bay.'

The room fell silent at the mention of that. Everyone knew the risk of facing shipgirls in combat. Cleveland exhaled slowly, already feeling the weight of the days ahead. The real battle hadn’t even started yet.

The dim lantern flickered against the damp canvas walls of the command tent as Cleveland, Wales, Reyes, and the guerrilla leaders studied the crude map of Cam Ranh Bay. The weight of the discussion settled over them like a thick jungle mist—this was not just another skirmish. If this mission failed, there would be no second chance.

"We know Nagato will be there." The British officer said, dragging his finger across the map. "But the problem is, we don’t know how many others will be with her. Worst-case scenario? Ten or more shipgirls, all fully armed and combat-ready."

A long silence followed. The idea of facing that many enemy shipgirls was daunting, even for Cleveland and Wales. They were powerful, but they weren’t invincible.

Wales finally broke the silence. "If reinforcements were closer, I’d suggest waiting for additional firepower. But we don’t have that luxury. It’s just us, forty soldiers, and some guerrillas with stolen weapons."

"Which means." Cleveland sighed. "If the Japanese shipgirls mobilize in response, it’s up to us to hold them off while the others capture Nagato."

The French officer leaned forward, lighting a cigarette with shaking fingers. "Do you have any strategies in mind? Any techniques for fighting them?"

Cleveland exhaled. "Normally, we’d use superior numbers and firepower, but that’s out of the question. If we engage, we need to focus on mobility and ambush tactics. The jungle is our ally—we can use it to limit their movement and break their formation."

Wales nodded. "If they come at us in open water, we’re done. But if we can lure them into an engagement where their speed and maneuverability are reduced—say, near the shallows or inside a narrow riverway—we might stand a chance."

Reyes, who had been silently listening, finally spoke. "Even if you two handle the shipgirls, that still leaves the ground forces and security teams. How do we deal with them while keeping Nagato from escaping?"

Cleveland frowned. "That’s the hardest part. If we hit them too hard, they might decide to evacuate her before we even get close."

The British officer tapped the map. "What about setting up multiple distractions? A series of controlled sabotage operations—small enough not to spook them completely, but enough to spread their forces thin?"

The French officer nodded. "If we can force them to divide their forces, they won’t be able to concentrate their shipgirls in one area. That might give you a fighting chance."

Cleveland and Wales exchanged glances. It was a risky gamble, but it was the only real option they had.

"Alright" Cleveland finally said, rolling up her sleeves. "Let’s get to work. If we’re doing this, we need to make sure everything goes exactly as planned."

Because if they failed, they wouldn’t live to try again.

.... 

...... 

December 20, 1941 – Off the Coast of Malaya

The night sky stretched endlessly over the dark waters of the South China Sea, faintly illuminated by the moon’s cold glow. The fleet, a mixture of Kan-Sen and mass-produced warships, prepared for their long and treacherous mission—a series of hit-and-run attacks stretching from the Malayan coast to their ultimate objective, Hong Kong. The operation was ambitious, bold, and dangerous.

At the heart of the formation was Zumwalt, standing on her bridge, watching as the ships under her command readied themselves. The 300-meter-long hull of George loomed in the moonlight, a silent testament to the formidable power of the future American Navy. Though she was a marvel of modern engineering, Zumwalt felt a pang of sadness—George had never truly had the chance to prove her might to Uncle Sam before the Directorate claimed her. It was a cruel fate for such a promising warship.

A familiar voice broke her thoughts.

"Zummy."

Zumwalt turned to see Laffey, her white-haired companion, standing there with her usual drowsy expression. Despite her half-lidded eyes, there was a warmth in her presence. Laffey had fully moved onto Zumwalt’s ship, treating it as her new home.

Zumwalt had long since stopped questioning it. If anything, Laffey felt more like a daughter to her than a crewmate. It was ironic—Laffey had seen far more battle than Zumwalt ever had, yet here she was, acting like the younger one.

"Laffey, what's wrong, honey?" Zumwalt asked with a soft chuckle, ruffling the shipgirl’s hair.

"I felt you weren't feeling well, so I came to comfort you." Laffey said bluntly, her tone as casual as ever.

Zumwalt sighed, a wry smile playing on her lips. "Ahahaha… You're really sharp."

Laffey tilted her head. "Is this about the Englishman you had drinks with a few nights ago?"

Zumwalt stiffened. "N-No! Of course not! I'm just… nervous. Yes, nervous." She wasn’t even convincing herself.

Laffey’s ears twitched slightly. "Mhm. Zummy lied. You miss the Englishman. Why not take him sailing together?"

The American Kan-Sen sighed, her gaze drifting towards the sea. "Laffey... Thomas and I… We're different. Besides, he volunteered for that secret mission with Wales and Cleveland."

That was what Zumwalt kept telling herself. But the truth was, her thoughts had been lingering on him since that night. The way he laughed, the way his eyes held quiet determination—she had grown attached far too quickly. And in this war, attachments could be dangerous.

Laffey simply smiled. She had no issue with Zumwalt having feelings for the Englishman, but what worried her more was Zumwalt herself. The mental fatigue had been piling up—Laffey could feel it. From the moment Zumwalt helped save Pearl Harbor from the Japanese surprise attack, to the multiple skirmishes leading up to this moment, she had been constantly pushing herself.

And yet, it had only been two weeks since she became human.

For most Kan-Sen, that transition was jarring. The shift from steel to flesh, from warship to human, was not just physical—it was mental, emotional. Laffey had seen too many shipgirls break down after a few days. Some recovered. Some didn’t. And Zumwalt…

She was holding herself together, but for how long?

Without hesitation, Laffey tightened her grip on Zumwalt’s arm. A silent reassurance. A silent promise.

No matter what happened, Laffey would be there.

Laffey leaned against Zumwalt’s side, her half-lidded eyes watching the dark horizon as the sea breeze tousled her white hair. Despite her usual drowsy demeanor, there was a gentle warmth in her words as she spoke.

"Zummy, don't forget, you have me, Francisco, Javelin, and Sandy. We'll be open at all times."

Zumwalt paused, feeling a familiar tightness in her chest—one she had long associated with exhaustion, but also relief. Laffey always had a way of saying just the right thing, just when she needed it.

"Laffey... Thank you, dear. You really care."

A soft smile graced Zumwalt’s lips as she reached out, running her fingers through Laffey’s hair. The shipgirl closed her eyes at the touch, leaning into it just slightly.

For a brief moment, there was peace.

But peace was a fleeting thing in times of war.

With the gentle creak of metal and the hum of turbines awakening, Zumwalt lifted Laffey into her arms, carrying her to the bridge of the ship. Laffey didn’t resist—she merely let herself be held, a small comfort in the cold night air.

Zumwalt settled into the captain's chair, her eyes scanning the glowing instruments and the vast, dark ocean ahead.

Then, the order came.

"All ships, sail without lights. Maintain radio silence. We move under the cover of darkness."

The fleet stirred into motion, their engines thrumming quietly as they slipped into the vast expanse of the sea.

The combined Azur Lane Fleet, an elite force of both Kan-Sen and mass-produced warships, began their treacherous journey towards their first target—the northern coast near the Malaya-Siam border. Their mission was clear: cripple enemy forces, disrupt supply lines, and strike deep behind Japanese positions.

Hours later, they arrived at their first engagement zone.

George, the massive supercarrier, prepared for launch. Her dozen F-35Cs sat on the flight deck, their sleek frames glinting faintly in the dim light. Their mission was surgical: strike targets deep inland, eliminate key infrastructure, and soften enemy positions.

As the launch signal flashed green, the F-35Cs roared into the sky, their afterburners momentarily breaking the silence of the night. High above, they split into squadrons, carrying payloads of precision-guided munitions, cluster bombs, and cruise missiles.

Meanwhile, Hornet, Enterprise, and Lexington deployed their Wildcats, their propellers slicing through the air as they took formation, ready to intercept any enemy aircraft that dared challenge the strike force.

But the true harbinger of destruction was Zumwalt herself.

From the bridge, Zumwalt's targeting systems locked onto the Japanese invasion force preparing for a second assault on Malaya. Her eyes narrowed as the calculations completed.

"Fire."

The deck shuddered as her 155mm railguns discharged, their hypersonic projectiles screaming through the night. Unlike traditional naval artillery, the rounds moved at blistering speeds, impacting before the sound could even catch up.

Each shot was devastating.

Japanese supply depots exploded into fireballs. Ammunition stockpiles detonated in brilliant orange flashes. Communication outposts were flattened, their radio towers collapsing into twisted wreckage.

And then came the missiles.

Zumwalt's hypersonic missiles streaked towards the coast, covering the distance in mere moments. Their payloads struck hardened bunkers, command centers, and staging areas, turning fortified positions into craters.

The chaos was instantaneous.

Japanese soldiers scrambled in panic as their once-secure positions turned into hellscapes of fire and debris. The sky rumbled with the echoes of destruction, and the dark sea reflected the glow of burning wreckage.

From high above, George’s F-35Cs swooped in, dropping their payloads with unerring precision. Fuel depots erupted, secondary explosions rocking the coastline as fires consumed entire supply routes.

The invasion force, once poised to advance into Malaya, was now in complete disarray.

As the final waves of ordnance hit their targets, Zumwalt exhaled slowly, her grip tightening on the armrest of her chair. The mission was successful—for now.

Laffey, still at her side, watched the flames in the distance.

"Zummy did good." She murmured sleepily. "Lots of bad guys gone."

Zumwalt chuckled, ruffling Laffey’s hair once more. "Yeah… But this is just the start."

Because beyond the burning shoreline, they still had a long way to go.

The air was thick with the acrid scent of burning fuel and salt, the sea still trembling from the aftermath of Azur Lane’s aerial strike against the Imperial Japanese invasion forces near the Malaya-Siam border. Plumes of smoke twisted into the sky as remnants of the Japanese supply convoys burned along the coastline. The American and British shipgirls—veterans of countless battles—watched from the open seas as the last waves of bombers returned to their carriers.

Enterprise, the "Gray Ghost," stood on her carrier’s deck, her piercing gaze locked on the horizon. "Something's coming." She muttered. Beside her, Lexington nodded. "Halsey’s going to want confirmation, but I can feel it too. They're not going to take this loss quietly."

It was George who provided the first definitive answer. Her AWACS, modified to track the unique emissions of the Wisdom Cubes embedded in every shipgirl, had picked up something unusual.

"Five of them. Fast approach from Cam Ranh Bay." George reported, her expression grim. "Their emissions are strong—probably a mix of older and newer IJN shipgirls. This isn’t a scouting party. This is a counterstrike."

The tension on the bridge grew. Halsey, ever the aggressive admiral, made his decision without hesitation.

"Ready all hands for engagement. We’re not running from this fight."

Across the sea, Kaga stood at the bow of her own carrier. The cool wind blew against her white ceremonial kimono, her nine tails swaying with restless energy. Nachi, Haguro, Yukikaze, and Ayanami flanked her, their warships cutting through the waves at high speed. This was not a battle she had chosen out of arrogance—this was a necessity.

Kaga was no fool. She had fought these enemy shipgirls before, had suffered at their hands in Bangka Belitung. Defeat burned in her memory like a brand, and the sting of Pearl Harbor’s failure had never truly faded. But she did not intend to repeat the mistakes of those engagements.

"Enterprise, Lexington, Hornet… they’ll be there." Kaga murmured, half to herself, half to her fleet. "And they will be prepared."

Nachi folded her arms. "Then are we walking into our own deaths?"

Kaga’s blue eyes flickered with something dangerous. "No. We will not fight them on their terms. We will turn their strength into their weakness. A reckless charge is meaningless, but a calculated strike? That can change everything."

She had studied the American Navy’s doctrine closely, even before the war. Their strength lay in superior coordination, flexibility, and overwhelming firepower. They dictated the flow of battle, forcing their enemies into engagements where they held every advantage.

But what if they could be thrown off balance?

Azur Lane’s fleet readied itself, splitting into combat formations. Lexington and Hornet prepared their air wings, launching a new wave of aircraft. Enterprise stood at the helm, her bow at her side, watching the horizon with an icy calm.

Then, something unexpected happened.

Kaga’s fleet did not charge directly.

Instead, her formation split into multiple vectors, using the surrounding terrain and lingering smoke from the earlier bombings to mask their approach. Yukikaze and Ayanami, the fastest of the group, surged ahead, deploying a spread of torpedoes not meant to hit but to disrupt Azur Lane’s positioning.

Hornet was the first to react. "Torpedoes in the water! Evasive maneuvers!"

George’s AWACS detected something else—Kaga’s planes were not coming in a standard wave. They were scattered, their flight paths irregular, making them harder to intercept. Nachi and Haguro, instead of supporting the aerial assault, had maneuvered into a flanking position, attempting to isolate the weaker shipgirls in Azur Lane’s formation.

Kaga was forcing them to react instead of dictate.

Lexington frowned as she realized the implications. "She’s trying to break our cohesion—force us into smaller skirmishes where their speed gives them the edge."

Halsey growled over the comms. "Damn fox is thinking like a battlefield commander, not just another shipgirl."

But Azur Lane was not so easily broken.

"San Diego, Laffey, Javelin, adjust formation and cut off their flanking units." Enterprise ordered. "We’ll turn this back into our kind of fight."

The sea erupted as salvos were exchanged. Lexington and Hornet’s air wings clashed with Kaga’s squadrons in a chaotic dogfight, tracer rounds and anti-air fire turning the sky into a storm of light and smoke.

Laffey and Javelin, swift and adaptable, intercepted Yukikaze and Ayanami before they could complete their torpedo runs. The two destroyers engaged in a brutal close-range battle, shells and gunfire dancing across the water.

"You're fast." Laffey admitted, dodging another torpedo spread. "But not fast enough."

Yukikaze grinned. "You’ll have to do better than that to catch me!"

Meanwhile, Enterprise had found her true opponent.

Kaga stood atop her carrier, a confident smirk on her lips. "You look as serious as ever, Enterprise."

"You talk too much." Enterprise replied coldly, drawing string of her bow. "Let’s finish this."

The battle between Azur Lane and the Imperial Japanese Navy had reached its crescendo. The skies over the Malayan front were a storm of fire, steel, and roaring engines. Carrier-based aircraft twisted and dove through thick plumes of black smoke, engaging in furious dogfights while warships exchanged thunderous broadsides below.

Yet, above the chaos, two figures dominated the battlefield.

Enterprise and Kaga—two legendary carrier shipgirls—soared through the air, locked in a deadly dance of skill and ferocity.

Enterprise moved like a specter, her long silver hair flowing as she leaped from one of her Hellcat fighters onto a spiraling Zero, using its wing as a makeshift platform. The compound bow in her hands gleamed as she notched a spectral arrow of pure energy and loosed it with deadly precision.

Kaga countered in a blur of blue and white, her nine ethereal tails flickering as she twisted midair, using her own aircraft as stepping stones. In one hand, she held a delicate origami bird, but with a flick of her fingers, the paper construct unfolded into a shimmering, ethereal blue warplane, wings spreading like a spirit of the sky.

"Impressive." Kaga murmured as she parried one of Enterprise’s arrows with a burst of foxfire. "But predictable."

She dove downward, folding her plane back into an origami bird before tossing it. The moment it left her fingers, it transformed back into a fighter and raced toward Enterprise at impossible speeds.

Enterprise barely had time to react before the plane split apart into dozens of smaller, razor-sharp shikigami constructs, swarming her like a pack of hunting foxes.

"Tch—!" Enterprise twisted midair, grabbing onto the wing of another passing Hellcat and riding it through the sky as she launched another set of arrows. Some of the shikigami burned away, but a few slashed across her arm, leaving thin red lines.

Kaga smirked. "You're not untouchable after all."

"Neither are you."

Enterprise shifted her weight, leaping from her Hellcat onto the back of one of Kaga’s own Zeros, twisting her bow into a close-combat blade. She lashed out, and Kaga barely managed to deflect the blow with a surge of foxfire. The shockwave sent both of them tumbling through the air, bouncing between their own aircraft, each landing and launching again like warriors dueling across floating islands.

The sky was their battlefield.

The aircraft were their weapons and their footholds.

Each move was faster, sharper, deadlier. Enterprise fired a barrage of energy arrows mid-dodge, using the explosive force to redirect herself, while Kaga retaliated with sweeping strikes of her ethereal plane-blade, cutting through the air like a samurai locked in a duel of the gods.

Neither was willing to back down.

Until a sudden warning pinged in Enterprise’s mind, an almost instinctual feeling of something massive approaching.

Kaga sensed it too.

But it was too late.

A hypersonic missile, its trail burning like a comet, screamed through the sky. In the split second before impact, Enterprise leaped away, kicking off one of Kaga’s planes and sending herself into a twisting dive.

Kaga, however, had no time to escape.

The missile struck her right side with devastating force. The explosion was like a star igniting in the heavens. Shattered metal and energy burst outward, engulfing Kaga in flames. Her body was flung like a broken doll, her blood trailing behind her as she spiraled downward, her tails flickering weakly.

She fell.

Down.

Down into the endless sea below.

Nachi and the Imperial Japanese QRF forces reacted instantly.

"Yukikaze! Ayanami! Smoke screen, now!" Nachi barked.

The two destroyers didn’t hesitate. Thick clouds of gray-black smoke erupted from their exhausts, covering the battlefield in a dense veil.

Under this cover, Nachi dove into the water, grabbing Kaga’s limp form before she could sink into the abyss. Her body was badly burned, her once-pristine white kimono now charred and tattered. Blood seeped from her wounds, mixing with the seawater.

"Kaga, stay with me!" Nachi growled, forcing back the panic in her voice.

Above them, Enterprise hovered, watching with narrowed eyes as the Imperial Japanese fleet began their retreat under the smokescreen’s cover. She could have given the order to pursue. She could have finished them off.

But something in her gut told her this wasn’t the time.

Instead, she simply watched as her opponent—her rival—vanished into the mist.

The battle was over.

For now.

TBC. 

Chapter Text

Bangkok, Kingdom Of Thailand/Siam.

Desember 21, 1941.

The air in Bangkok was thick with the scent of blooming jasmine, mingling with the earthy aroma of rain-dampened streets. In the heart of the city, where old Siamese architecture stood in contrast to the modern colonial influences, a small tea house hosted three of Japan’s most esteemed Kan-Sen: Gūji Nagato, the spiritual leader of the Imperial Japanese Shipgirl Corps, and her two loyal guardians, Takao and Atago.

Inside, the atmosphere was hushed and refined. A paper lantern cast a soft glow over the lacquered wooden table where they sat, their steaming cups of tea releasing delicate wisps of fragrance into the air. Outside, a contingent of Imperial Japanese Army and Navy soldiers stood at alert, their disciplined formations a stark contrast to the relaxed elegance inside.

Nagato, her petite frame clad in a priestess’ robe modified to accommodate her fox-like ears and bushy tail, delicately lifted her porcelain cup, her amber eyes glinting in the candlelight. Her expression, as always, was poised—an aristocrat of the old world, her words laced with the poetic cadence of an ancient dramatist.

"This tea from Siam doth possess a most divine subtlety, a flavor unspoiled by crude hands." She murmured, her tone carrying the weight of a bygone era.

Across from her, Atago, ever the playful contrast to her more serious companions, giggled lightly as she swirled the contents of her own cup. Her black canine ears twitched with amusement, and her tail wagged lazily.

"This Ceylon tea is wonderful too, Gūji~" She chimed, her voice sweet as honey. "Though I must say, it’s even better when enjoyed with good company." She shot Takao a teasing glance, but the stoic heavy cruiser remained unimpressed.

Takao sat beside Atago, her arms folded as she observed her tea with little enthusiasm. Unlike the others, she was not particularly fond of tea—nor of idle conversation. Her dog-like ears twitched as she suppressed a sigh. "Tea is tea." she said plainly, lifting her cup only out of courtesy.

Their moment of tranquility was broken by a sharp knock at the sliding door. Instantly, the lighthearted air dissipated. Takao’s instincts kicked in, and she was on her feet in an instant, her sharp gaze locking onto the doorway.

She slid the door open to reveal a soldier clad in the uniform of the Imperial Japanese Army. His expression was tense, his posture stiff with urgency.

"What is it?" Takao’s voice was curt, her piercing amber eyes demanding an answer.

The soldier hesitated for only a second before speaking. "An urgent report from the front lines, Ma’am. Admiral Yamaguchi himself ordered this to be delivered directly to the Gūji."

Takao narrowed her eyes. "I’ll take it."

She accepted the brown folder and shut the door behind her, her grip tightening instinctively as she turned back toward the table. She approached Nagato, knelt down respectfully, and placed the report before her.

Nagato arched a delicate brow, curiosity flickering across her face. With a graceful motion, she unfolded the document and began to read. The tea house fell into an eerie silence, broken only by the soft rustle of paper.

As her eyes scanned the words, her expression shifted subtly—from curiosity to tension, from tension to barely restrained fury. The report detailed the disastrous turn of events in Malaya. The Japanese invasion force, poised to strike, had been blindsided by an unexpected Azur Lane counterattack. The fleet stationed in Cam Ranh Bay that send to help, had been obliterated. Worse still, Kaga—one of the most revered and senior Kan-Sen in their ranks—had been grievously wounded in the battle. Or perhaps even dying.

Again.

Nagato’s grip on the document tightened until the paper crumpled in her small hands. The last time Kaga had been near death was merely two weeks ago, during the ill-fated attack on Pearl Harbor. And now, history repeated itself.

"I see..." Nagato’s voice was barely above a whisper, but there was an unmistakable tremor in it—rage, sorrow, frustration.

Atago’s usual cheerfulness faded as she leaned closer, her ears drooping slightly. "Gūji..." She murmured, concern in her tone. Even she knew better than to make light of a moment like this.

Takao clenched her fists. "What are your orders, Gūji?" She asked, her voice firm, ready to act.

Nagato exhaled slowly, her eyes dark with an unreadable storm of emotion. When she finally spoke, her voice carried the weight of a goddess, one who had been slighted.

"We cannot allow such folly to go unanswered." She declared, her fox tail bristling behind her. "The tides of war may shift, but the will of the Empire remains resolute. If Kaga yet draws breath, she shall rise again. And if vengeance is required, then we shall deliver it upon the seas with fury most divine."

Takao bowed her head in solemn acknowledgment, while Atago, despite herself, grinned slightly. "Well, if we’re bringing fury, I do hope we make it a grand spectacle~," She purred, though there was an edge to her usual playfulness.

Nagato’s golden eyes gleamed in the dim candlelight. The tea had long since gone cold.

Outside, the soldiers of the Empire awaited their orders.

Atago then excused herself with a radiant smile, stretching her arms above her head in a graceful, feline-like motion. "If you’ll pardon me, I need to freshen up~" She chimed, her usual flirtatious lilt intact.

Takao barely glanced at her, still focused on Nagato’s reaction to the report, and the Gūji herself remained silent, her fingers lightly gripping the crumpled page.

Slipping through the paper door, Atago made her way down the narrow corridor toward the tea house’s modest washroom. The hallway was dimly lit, a single oil lamp casting flickering shadows against the wooden walls. Each step she took felt heavier, the weight of what she was about to do pressing down on her chest like an anchor dragging her to the ocean floor.

Closing the washroom door behind her, Atago let out a quiet exhale. She turned toward the small, bronze-framed mirror above the basin, her brown eyes meeting her own reflection. Her usual playfulness was absent, replaced by something far colder—something determined.

Reaching into the folds of her modified uniform, she carefully pulled out a small piece of radio equipment—part of her ship’s rigging. The device fit snugly in her palm, an inconspicuous tangle of metal and wires that held the power to alter the course of the war.

Sitting down on the wooden bench, Atago adjusted the dials with practiced ease. The soft click click of metal against metal filled the cramped space as she tuned into a frequency known only to the Rebels and Allies. She brought the device close, hesitating for only a moment before tapping out a series of Morse code signals.

To Allies Force. Priority message. 

Nagato en route to Cam Ranh Bay. Preparing counterattack. Be ready.

Atago’s fingers stilled over the device as the final clicks of the transmission faded into silence. She closed her eyes, gripping the radio tightly.

Her tail, which had lazily flicked back and forth before, now hung still. Her ears twitched at the distant sounds of soldiers outside the tea house, their voices muffled. How many of them would die for a cause that no longer had a future?

She had made her choice.

To remain loyal to the Empire was to walk toward destruction. The tides of war were shifting—Japan was not winning, and she knew it. The relentless march of the Allied war machine would soon reach their shores, grinding the Empire to dust. There would be no mercy, no salvation, only death and ruin.

But there was another way. A bitter, treasonous way.

If the Atago managed to negotiate an agreement with the Allies, then perhaps, just perhaps, there was a chance to secure the survival of those who mattered most. Her sister Takao. The other Imperial shipgirls. She did not care for the generals, the admirals, or the war-hungry bureaucrats. But Takao…

Takao, who had stood beside her through countless battles, who believed in duty and honor above all else—if she knew what Atago had just done, she would cut her down herself.

Atago let out a quiet, bitter chuckle, tilting her head back against the wooden wall. "Well." She murmured to herself, her voice barely above a whisper. "I suppose every war needs a traitor."

She carefully disassembled the radio and tucked the pieces back into her uniform. She washed her hands, fixing her appearance in the mirror, ensuring not a trace of her actions remained.

By the time she stepped out of the washroom, her usual smile was back in place. "Ahh~ much better!" She announced cheerfully, swaying back toward the tea house as if nothing had happened.

Takao barely looked up. Nagato, still seated, met her gaze with a piercing look that lingered just a second too long.

Did she suspect something?

Atago only smiled.

Neither Nagato nor Takao suspected a thing. Atago’s mask of charm and cheerfulness was flawless, her every gesture natural, her every word perfectly placed. Even under Nagato’s sharp gaze, there wasn’t the slightest hesitation in her demeanor.

She had perfected the art of deception.

After another round of tea and brief discussion about their journey, Atago casually leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. "Since we’re heading for Cam Ranh Bay, might I suggest the fastest route?" She mused, her tail swishing behind her lazily.

Takao, ever pragmatic, looked at her with a frown. "I assume you’ve already thought this through?"

"But of course~!" Atago giggled. "This war won't wait for us to take the scenic route, you know. There's a path through the northern hills, past the river crossings. It’s a bit tricky, but it’ll get us there faster than the main roads."

Nagato considered her words carefully, sipping her tea with an air of measured authority. "It is a viable option." She murmured. "Speed is of the essence. But are you certain the path is secure?"

Atago offered her a bright, reassuring smile. "Absolutely! Our forces have swept the area clean just a few days ago." That much was true—the Imperial Army had indeed patrolled the route. But what Atago didn’t mention was that she had leaked the information to Allied saboteurs days in advance.

By now, the enemy was waiting.

Nagato nodded, seemingly satisfied, and Takao didn’t argue. Her sister had always trusted her, never doubting her instincts. That trust stung now, but Atago pushed the feeling down.

This was the right path.

The Empire was doomed. The world was closing in on them, and soon, all that remained of the Imperial Shipgirl Corps would either be annihilated or captured if they continue this perilous path. She had no illusions about the future—Japan’s fall was inevitable. And when it did, what would happen to them?

She refused to let Takao and the others be dragged into the abyss with the rest of the Empire.

That was why she had chosen this path.

Atago had made sure there was no way for anyone to suspect her. Every suggestion she made, every casual remark, every moment of her usual playful charm—none of it seemed unnatural. She was, as always, the Atago they knew: flirtatious, carefree, and utterly devoted to her companions.

And yet, beneath the mask, her mind was already working through contingencies.

The Allies were far too confident in this ambush. They believed they could capture Nagato, the First in the Fleet, and Takao, one of the finest swordswomen of the Imperial Shipgirl Corps. It was a bold assumption. A reckless one.

Atago wasn’t sure how they intended to pull it off—perhaps some new technology, perhaps sheer overwhelming force—but she wasn’t too concerned.

If they failed?

If they couldn’t capture Nagato and Takao?

Then she would have to make sure they did.

If the time came, Atago knew she would have to play rough. A well-placed "accident" during the battle. A delayed warning. A subtle miscalculation in positioning. A single moment of hesitation at just the right time.

She would do whatever it took.

Because if she didn’t?

If she failed?

Then she had everything to lose.

... 

.....

One of the Roads Leading to Cam Ranh Bay. 

December 22, 1941

Prince of Wales and Cleveland stood atop a rocky hill, overlooking the winding road below. The jungle stretched around them, humid and alive with the distant cries of unseen creatures, while the dirt path snaked through the thick foliage, leading towards Cam Ranh Bay. This was the route their target, Gūji Nagato, the spiritual leader of the Imperial Japanese Shipgirl Corps, would take. And they had learned of it thanks to a traitor in her own ranks—though Wales had yet to reveal her name.

The night air carried the scent of damp earth and salt from the distant shore. The moon hung low, casting long shadows across the road, turning the thick jungle into a sea of silhouettes.

Cleveland exhaled slowly, adjusting the sleeves of her army jacket before unzipping it halfway to reveal the white t-shirt underneath. "What do ya think, Wales? Can we really take ‘em on?" She asked, her Midwestern drawl coming through as she ran a hand through her long blonde hair that is style in ponytail.

Wales smirked, resting a gloved hand on the hilt of the saber at her waist. The polished blade, a relic of her station, glimmered faintly even in the dim light. "Oh, I have no doubt, dear Cleve." She mused, her accent carrying the refined lilt of nobility. "Takao will be a worthy opponent—after all, we are both swordswomen. I must admit, I do relish the prospect of crossing blades with her."

"Heh, of course you’d be excited." Cleveland muttered, shaking her head. Her tone, however, held more concern than amusement. "I just don’t know how we’re supposed to catch Gūji Nagato. She ain't just some regular Shipgirl—she’s a freaking battleship."

Wales let out a soft chuckle, brushing a strand of golden hair from her face. "Your concern is understandable, my dear Cleve, but hardly necessary. Zumwalt has already been dispatched and will be providing fire support should the need arise." She tapped her temple with a knowing look. "We have contingencies."

Cleveland snorted, crossing her arms. "Not if, Wales. Definitely. There’s no way this is gonna be smooth sailing."

"Heh." Wales smirked, turning slightly to her companion. "Your doubts will be your undoing, Cleve. How can you expect to charm that dashing Marine pilot of yours if you keep second-guessing everything?"

Cleveland nearly choked on air, her face turning red. "U-Uhh! You still remember him?"

Wales let out a light, almost melodic laugh before pulling out a cigarette from the inner pocket of her red officer’s coat. With a flick of her lighter, the tip glowed, casting a brief flicker of orange across her face.

Cleveland scrunched her nose as she watched her companion take a long drag. "Yeah, I still ain’t used to seein’ a noble like you smoke." She remarked, tilting her head.

"Then I suggest you do get used to it, my dear Cleve." Wales replied, exhaling a thin stream of smoke. "Here, in this godforsaken jungle, I can finally breathe. No Queen, no Parliament, no endless expectations weighing upon my shoulders. For once, I am simply… me." She sighed, looking up at the stars. "It’s rather liberating, really."

Cleveland glanced at her, expression unreadable. She knew Wales played the part of the noble warrior with grace, but beneath that aristocratic poise, there was something else—a longing for freedom, perhaps, or an exhaustion she rarely let slip.

A gust of wind rustled through the jungle, and the two shipgirls fell into silence, gazing down at the road below. 

The two shipgirls stood in silence for a moment, the tension of the upcoming battle lingering in the air. Then, Cleveland let out a chuckle, nudging Wales lightly with her elbow.

"Liberating, huh? Ever thought of movin’ to America?" She teased, her accent carrying that easygoing Midwestern drawl.

Wales scoffed, placing a hand on her hip. "Hardy har har." She echoed with a smirk. "And abandon my dear homeland? Never. I still love British food."

Cleveland visibly cringed, her nose twitching as if she had just smelled something rotten. "Ugh, you mean that disgusting food?"

Wales gasped theatrically, clutching her chest as if Cleveland had just run her through with a sword. "Hmph! Of course, a peasant such as yourself would never comprehend the finer aspects of true cuisine." She said with exaggerated poshness before softening into a proud smile. "But jokes aside, my Big Sister George is a rather brilliant cook. She often takes charge as head chef when there's a banquet between the Queen and the Parliament."

Cleveland’s lips curled into a knowing grin. "Oh yeah, I heard ‘bout her. Ain’t she just a long-haired, glutton version of you?"

"Hahaha!" Wales laughed, shaking her head. "A rather apt description, I must admit. That woman would eat an entire banquet herself if given the chance." She sighed, running a hand through her golden hair. "Still, she is my dear sister… even if I suspect there isn’t a single sane person in our little family." A cold sweat ran down her back as she recalled the eccentricities of her siblings.

Cleveland chuckled, shaking her head. "Y’know what? I ain’t gonna ask any more questions."

Wales smirked but said nothing, taking another slow drag from her cigarette.

Cleveland, however, suddenly perked up. "Oh! That reminds me—I’m real excited to meet my new sisters! They said they’re already trainin’ up at Pearl!" She said with a wide grin.

Wales chuckled, flicking a bit of ash from her cigarette. "Hehehe, good for you. Need me to accompany you? I do happen to have some excellent techniques for disciplining unruly younger sisters."

Cleveland crossed her arms, pretending to think. "Hmmm… yeah, that would be real helpful, Wales. Thanks." She said sincerely.

Before Wales could respond, a voice called out from behind them.

"Sergeant Cleveland! Several vehicles approaching from the south!"

Cleveland turned to see Corporal Reyes, her trusted second-in-command, approaching with urgency in her step.

Wales narrowed her eyes and exhaled slowly, tossing the half-burned cigarette to the ground and grinding it out with her boot. "That’s our target." she said coolly, her expression shifting into one of sharp focus.

Cleveland adjusted her cap, eyes hardening as she cracked her knuckles. "Yeah… let’s get it done."

The tension in the air was suffocating. Cleveland and Wales watched from their vantage point, eyes fixed on the winding road below. The distant rumble of approaching engines sent a chill through the air.

Then, like clockwork, the convoy rolled into the kill zone.

Cleveland reacted instantly, her rigging materializing in a flash of steel and power. The barrels of her 155mm cannons locked onto the target, and with a pull of the trigger, fire and death rained down.

The night was shattered by the roar of explosions. High-explosive rounds ripped into the convoy, turning metal and flesh into twisted debris. Vehicles flipped, tires burst, and flames erupted, casting an eerie orange glow against the jungle. Screams barely had time to escape before they were drowned out by the unrelenting barrage.

By the end of the sixty-second bombardment, what remained of the convoy was engulfed in flames. Yet, the attack wasn’t over.

From the treeline, guerrillas and Allied soldiers emerged, rifles and submachine guns in hand. With ruthless efficiency, they unleashed a storm of bullets into the wreckage, ensuring no survivors. The scene was one of complete annihilation—one-sided, brutal, and absolute.

And yet, Wales and Cleveland remained still, their hands hovering over their weapons. This wasn’t over. They were waiting.

Then, from the fire and ruin, she emerged.

Gūji Nagato.

She stepped forward with an air of divine wrath, the firelight illuminating her imposing rigging—an oversized construct of steel and artillery that looked almost unnatural on her small frame. Yet, there was no doubt that it belonged to her. She radiated power, her presence commanding absolute fear and reverence.

Her golden eyes burned with a fury that could only be described as mythic, like the gaze of an ancient war god awakened from slumber. Anger. Horror. Righteous vengeance. It was all there, carved into her every step.

And she was not alone.

Two more figures emerged from the wreckage, their silhouettes forming against the flames.

Atago—her usual easy-going, seductive air replaced by something colder, more calculating. Her rigging gleamed as she effortlessly twirled her katana, the blade catching the firelight. Even now, she smiled—but it wasn’t one of amusement.

And then there was Takao.

Serious. Stoic. A warrior through and through. She held her katana with both hands, her stance unwavering, her eyes locked onto the enemy. Takao was here for war.

For a brief moment, there was silence.

Then, Nagato spoke.

"Ye wretched curs… didst thou truly believe that flame and steel alone could lay low the mighty? Fools! Thou hast invited ruin upon thine own heads!"

Her voice rang out like a war hymn from a forgotten age, powerful and regal.

Cleveland swallowed hard, gripping her weapons tighter. She wasn’t afraid to fight—but damn, she could feel the weight of Nagato’s presence.

Wales, on the other hand, simply smirked, her saber already half-drawn.

"Ah, there you are." She mused, rolling her shoulders. "I was worried you wouldn’t show up. Shall we, Cleve?"

Cleveland cracked her knuckles. "Hell yeah."

The world around them had descended into chaos. The jungle echoed with the roar of gunfire, the thunder of artillery, and the shrieks of steel tearing through flesh and armor alike. But amid the inferno, on a scorched battlefield where fire met steel, two warriors stood locked in battle, their blades dancing in a deadly symphony.

Prince of Wales and Takao.

Two shipgirls. Two warriors. One a British battleship, wielding the raw, indomitable power of the Royal Navy. The other, a Japanese Heavy Cruiser, a master of precision, discipline, and the ancient art of the katana.

Their swords clashed with a resounding crash, sending sparks flying into the night.

Wales pressed forward, her saber flashing in a blur of silver, each strike calculated, each movement a masterful fusion of French rapier finesse and English longsword power. Her noble upbringing showed in her elegant footwork, her blade moving with a lethal grace that could only be learned by a warrior of both bloodline and battlefield.

Takao, however, was unyielding.

Her katana sang as she parried, every block followed by a fluid counterattack. Her swordplay was pure Bushido—precise, ruthless, and deeply disciplined. The way she moved was like watching a storm contained in human form—controlled, but undeniably furious.

Then, in a flash, Wales leaped backward.

Takao’s eyes narrowed.

The 356mm guns mounted on Wales’ rigging roared to life, their barrels turning toward Takao.

Boom. Boom. BOOM!

The air trembled as armor-penetrating AP shells screamed toward the Japanese shipgirl. Takao’s instincts took over. With a practiced motion, she raised her energy shield—a brilliant, translucent barrier of crimson light—just as the first shell struck.

CRACK!

The shield shattered instantly.

The shockwave sent Takao reeling backward, her boots skidding against the dirt. She gritted her teeth, barely keeping her balance. A battleship’s firepower. Even one shot could tear through her defenses.

But before she could recover—

Wales was already upon her. The British shipgirl lunged, saber flashing under the moonlight, her golden locks whipping behind her. She moved like a duelist from an old European battlefield, each step an artful blend of speed and technique.

Takao met her head-on, Katana clashing against the steel of Wales’ blade.

The impact sent a shockwave through their arms, but neither relented.

Wales pressed forward with a cold, methodical brutality, her strikes precise, unrelenting, and utterly ruthless. She fought with the efficiency of a noble-born killer, striking at every gap in Takao’s guard, her blade whispering through the air with deadly intent.

But Takao was not easily broken. With a deep breath, she adjusted her stance, the katana held in a traditional Chūdan-no-kamae position—centered, balanced, ready for anything.

Then she attacked. Her movements became sharper, faster—a blur of Japanese swordplay honed through centuries of warfare. Each cut and thrust forced Wales onto the defensive, her aristocratic footwork disrupted by Takao’s unpredictable, flowing strikes.

A downward slash nearly took Wales’ shoulder, but she twisted just in time, her saber intercepting the blow. The two weapons locked together, sparks raining down between them.

Wales grinned, her red eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Ah, you have some skill, dear Takao." She mused, her breath steady despite the intensity of their duel. "This is much more enjoyable than dealing with dull, slow-witted brutes."

Takao did not rise to the taunt. Instead, she pushed forward, her katana cutting in a deadly arc.

Wales dodged, but for the first time, there was a sliver of hesitation in her movement. A fraction of a second too slow. Takao saw it. She struck.

A lightning-fast Iai slash.

The tip of Takao’s katana grazed Wales’ side, cutting through her red coat and drawing blood.

A shallow wound—but a victory nonetheless. Wales hissed as she skidded back, her free hand brushing against the cut. A small trickle of scarlet stained her pristine gloves.

Then—she laughed.

A genuine chuckle, filled with both admiration and amusement.

"Ha! Finally, someone manages to land a hit on me! I must admit, I rather like you, Takao."

Takao merely tightened her grip on her katana.

"Focus." She said coldly. "Or you will not leave this battlefield alive."

Wales smirked, twirling her saber in a show of playful defiance.

"Mate, I thrive in war. And I do not intend to lose today."

She charged forward once more, and the battle raged on—two warriors, two blades, two legacies clashing under the burning sky.

The world around them had faded. The gunfire, the explosions, the screams of dying men—nothing else mattered. Only the duel.

Wales’ saber slashed forward, aiming to cut through Takao’s guard with brutal elegance. The fine European steel gleamed under the smoke-darkened sky, its edge seeking to carve through the disciplined defenses of the Imperial Japanese Navy’s finest swordswoman.

Takao parried, her katana intercepting Wales’ thrust with precise control, the clash sending a violent shockwave through their arms. Sparks showered from their blades, illuminating their sweat-slick faces.

And then, Takao struck.

She moved like a shadow in a storm, her katana flashing in rapid arcs—each slice a masterpiece of Bushido, each movement honed through countless battles of the past. 

Wales barely dodged.

A single strand of her golden hair was cut, fluttering away into the night as Takao’s blade passed within a hair’s breadth of her throat.

Wales’ red eyes gleamed.

"Close." She murmured, her tone almost admiring. "But not close enough, Mate."

She retaliated.

Twisting her body, Wales executed a perfect riposte, her saber lashing out with the precision of a noble fencer. Takao was forced back, her katana barely catching the tip of the strike before it could carve into her ribs.

The Japanese shipgirl’s arms burned from the force. Wales was gaining the upper hand.

She pressed her attack, her blade a storm of refined European technique—a relentless blend of French épée thrusts and English backsword cuts, moving with a lethal grace that only a duelist born for war could possess.

Takao gritted her teeth. Her katana, sovereign of countless battles, now struggled to hold back Wales’ relentless onslaught.

And yet—she refused to yield. Takao’s brown eyes blazed with determination, her mind cold and focused. She had one advantage left.

A Battleship was slow.

A Cruiser was fast.

With a sudden burst of speed, Takao sidestepped Wales’ thrust, pivoting into a low stance before lunging with a powerful, two-handed diagonal slash.

Wales barely deflected it.

The force of the strike sent shockwaves up her arms, forcing her to skid backward.

Takao exhaled, her breathing sharp but measured. "You fight well." She admitted, her grip steadying on the katana’s hilt wrapped in black silk.

Wales smirked, rolling her shoulders, her saber twirling in her grasp.

"Of course, I do, Mate." She said smoothly, lifting her chin with aristocratic confidence. "Did you expect anything less?"

Takao narrowed her eyes. The battle had reached a deadlock, but Wales had begun to take control.

She was faster than a battleship should be. Her swordplay was sharper than any Takao had faced. And she wasn’t tiring.

The British shipgirl took a long step forward, boots crushing scorched grass, her saber aimed at Takao’s heart.

"You’re slipping, mate. Shall I end this?"

Takao’s fingers tightened on her blade.

"Try."

The battle was far from over.

... 

..... 

The battlefield was a storm of steel and fire.

As Wales dueled Takao in a deadly dance of swords, Cleveland found herself fighting for her life.

Two against one.

Nagato and Atago.

The 410mm cannons of the battleship roared like a divine thunderclap, shaking the very earth beneath them. Every time Cleveland tried to retaliate with her own guns, Nagato’s shells shattered her energy shield, sending her scrambling for cover.

The sheer force of the battleship’s shots sent shockwaves through Cleveland’s body, her rigging struggling to withstand the onslaught.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Another barrage of fire rained down, and Cleveland barely managed to dodge, flipping through the air in a desperate attempt to survive.

"Dammit, this ain’t fair!" She growled, her body twisting mid-air as she narrowly avoided another volley. Her smaller frame was an advantage, but against an opponent like Nagato, speed alone wasn’t enough.

She raised her 6-inch guns and fired a desperate salvo, but Nagato’s battleship armor shrugged it off like pebbles against a fortress wall.

A chill ran down Cleveland’s spine. She can’t win like this.

"Hey~ don't forget me~"

A sultry voice purred behind her.

Atago.

The seductive Cruiser emerged from the smoke, a dangerous glint in her brown eyes, her katana gleaming as she swung for Cleveland’s throat. Cleveland barely reacted in time.

Her rigging shifted, intercepting the blade before it could reach her neck, but Atago’s katana sliced through the iron plating like it was paper, forcing Cleveland to stagger backward.

"Damn, lady—what the hell is that sword made of?!"

Atago giggled, twirling her blade playfully. "Oh, you flatter me~ But if I told you, that would ruin the fun, wouldn’t it?"

Cleveland had no time to joke. If she stayed close, Atago would cut her down. If she ran, Nagato’s artillery would blow her apart.

"Shit, shit, shit!"

Atago kept up the pressure, her katana slicing through the air with relentless grace, forcing Cleveland to keep moving. Her body screamed in exhaustion, but stopping meant death.

Then—pain.

Atago tackled her, slamming Cleveland into the ground with a ferocity that betrayed her playful nature. Cleveland choked on dust, struggling as Atago pinned her down, her katana stabbing through Cleveland’s hand, pinning it to the ground.

"F-Fuck!" Cleveland hissed through gritted teeth.

She glared up at Atago, fully expecting a killing blow—but it never came. Instead, Atago leaned in close, her lips nearly brushing against Cleveland’s ear.

"Hey, American… I'm your friend here."

Cleveland’s breathing hitched.

"What the hell are you talkin’ about?"

Atago’s voice dropped, all flirtation gone, replaced by deadly seriousness.

"I'm the rat who leaked all this information. Listen to me carefully—we don't have much time."

Cleveland’s heart pounded. "What—?"

"On the count of five, I’m going to attack Nagato. You follow up immediately."

Atago stole a quick glance at Nagato, who was still standing there, confusion clouding her delicate face.

"Nagato is strong, but She's slow and—more importantly—she’s inexperienced. If we strike together, we can take her down before she realizes what’s happening."

Cleveland hesitated. Could she trust this? Could she trust Atago? Then she saw the look in Atago’s eyes. Not a trick. Not a trap. A traitor’s resolve.

For some reason, Atago wanted Nagato captured by the Allies.

"Ready?" Atago asked, rising to her feet and drawing her sword.

Cleveland swallowed hard, pain flaring in her hand, but she forced herself to move.

"...Ready."

Atago smiled, but there was a wry sadness in her expression.

"Sorry, Gūji."

"What...?"

The betrayal was shattering. Nagato, Supreme Priestess of the Empire, stood frozen in shock. Her golden eyes trembled, unable to comprehend the scene before her—Atago’s blade swinging straight for her throat.

Betrayal.

For a fleeting moment, she did nothing. Then, her heart burned with rage.

CLANG!

Nagato’s fist met Atago’s in a burst of sparks, deflecting the blow just in time.

"Traitor!" Nagato roared, her voice like a war drum. The sky trembled.

Atago had expected hesitation, maybe fear—but she had underestimated Nagato’s fury. The small battleship’s movements became blindingly fast, a storm of steel and fire as her fist and rigging struck in unison.

Atago, despite having the element of surprise, found herself being overwhelmed. She tried to parry, but Nagato’s strength was unreal. Every clash sent painful vibrations through Atago’s arms. And then—she saw it.

The Fox.

Behind Nagato, towering like a guardian deity, a spectral red fox Samurai emerged, its eyes burning with divine fury. A spirit of war and vengeance, born from Nagato’s soul. Atago’s confidence wavered for the first time.

Nagato wasted no time. Her fist struck Atago’s ribs, cutting deep. Blood sprayed onto the dirt.

Atago barely had time to react before—

BOOM!

Nagato’s 410mm cannon fired point-blank.

The explosion sent Atago flying, her rigging shattering under the impact as she crashed into the dirt, coughing blood. Cleveland saw her chance.

"NOW!" She shouted, charging in, guns blazing.

But she didn’t rush recklessly. Cleveland had learned from watching Atago’s mistake—this wasn’t a fight where brute force could win. She dodged between the wreckage, firing controlled bursts, trying to keep Nagato distracted.

But even under fire, Nagato’s rage didn’t waver. The small battleship ignored the pain, her fist still dripping Atago’s blood, her spectral fox growling low and menacingly.

She turned toward Cleveland, her golden eyes burning like molten fire. The Supreme Priestess was far from finished.

The ground shook as Nagato’s 410mm cannons fired again, this time not at Cleveland or Atago, but at the Allied soldiers desperately trying to help their Shipgirls ally. The shockwave ripped through the jungle road, sending bodies flying like ragdolls. Those who survived were left screaming in agony, their bodies burned and broken.

Cleveland’s heart pounded in her chest. These men were her command, her responsibility—yet she could do nothing.

"DAMN IT!" Cleveland roared, her knuckles white.

She unleashed a furious barrage from her 155mm cannons, hoping to force Nagato back. But the First of the Fleet barely flinched. The divine fox behind her howled, its ethereal tails swaying as if amused by Cleveland’s futile attacks.

Nagato’s gaze remained cold and merciless. "These men, in folly bold, did seal their doom the instant they did lift their swords 'gainst th' Empire's might." She said, her voice filled with contempt. "Their souls shall be claimed by war’s tempestuous tide, as fate itself hath solemnly decreed."

Another step forward. The ground cracked beneath her feet. Cleveland gritted her teeth. Damn it, she's a monster!

But then—

Atago moved.

Despite the deep gash in her ribs, despite the blood staining her uniform, Atago forced herself to stand. With an exhale of pain, she wiped her mouth and grinned, masking her pain with her usual teasing tone.

"Wow~ You really don’t hold back, do you, Gūji?" She coughed. "I guess I deserved that. But still... That really hurt."

Nagato’s eyes narrowed. 'Thou still dost stand, thou wretched traitor?"

Atago chuckled. "Come on now, I’d be a bad informant if I went down that easy."

And then—she moved. A blur.

Cleveland barely processed the speed. Atago closed the distance between her and Nagato in less than a heartbeat, her katana flashing in the moonlight.

Nagato reacted instantly, her blade meeting Atago’s in a furious explosion of sparks.

CLANG!

The force of the clash sent shockwaves through the battlefield, rustling the trees, scattering dust and debris. Cleveland saw her opening.

Nagato was fast, but she was focused on Atago. If she could distract her, maybe Atago had a chance. She fired everything.

Her 155mm cannons, anti-air turrets, even her rigging’s machine guns—all aimed at Nagato.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Nagato snarled as explosions erupted around her, Cleveland’s shells hammering against her armor. She didn’t fall, but it was enough.

Atago, the traitor, the informant, the woman who had betrayed her own nation, grinned. She lunged again. This time, her blade sank into Nagato’s shoulder.

Nagato hissed in pain, staggering back for the first time.

Cleveland could hardly believe it. Was this their chance? Had they finally managed to wound a god?

Nagato stood tall amidst the ruins of the battlefield, her small frame belying the sheer power that radiated from her presence. The air crackled with energy, the lingering echoes of her rebuke still hanging in the air as her fox-like familiar loomed behind her, spectral and imposing. Atago, once proud shipgirl, now lay battered against the shattered remains of uprooted trees, her black locks matted with dust and streaks of crimson. Her once-lustrous white uniform was tattered, a symbol of her treachery. The pain in her ribs, the deep gashes across her arms, all screamed of Nagato’s wrath—punishment for her betrayal of the Empire.

Cleveland stood several meters away. Sweat dripped down her brow as she clutched her rigging, her heart pounding against her chest like the rapid staccato of anti-aircraft fire. She had seen many battles, but this was different. When the hell is Wales getting here? She thought bitterly, swallowing down the lump of unease in her throat. The longer this dragged on, the worse it would get.

Nagato advanced, her piercing golden eyes locked onto Atago, the dim glow of her ruined rigging flickering erratically. Her voice was steel wrapped in poetry.

"Thou hath scorned thine own kin, fair-faced traitor, and thus shall reap the wretched harvest thou hast sown!"

Her spectral fox roared, lunging forward in a blur of motion, its ethereal blade gleaming under the cold sky. Atago barely had time to react. A second strike sent her sprawling, her breath leaving her lungs in a ragged gasp. The betrayal had cost her everything—her comrades, her standing, and now perhaps her life.

But then—

A sound. A terrible, mechanical scream, like metal tearing itself apart in the heavens. It cut through the battlefield with an unnatural pitch, sending a violent shudder through the ground. Cleveland’s blood ran cold. She knew that sound. A sound she not so fondly remember two weeks ago when Pearl almost burn to the ground.

"Oh, hell no."

Without hesitation, she threw herself down, every ounce of her energy pouring into her energy shield. A dull blue shimmer crackled into existence around her, barely visible in the dust-choked air. Nagato turned, eyes narrowing, her mind struggling to grasp the danger before her.

The sky split apart. A shriek of kinetic fury descended upon them.

Zumwalt had fired.

A dozen railgun slugs, each a high-velocity nightmare, tore through the air with enough force to shatter steel and rip through, perhaps, reality itself. There was no warning, no grace. Just impact.

Nagato barely had time to react before the first projectile struck her. Her body twisted violently midair as the first slug tore through her shoulder, her rigging shrieking in protest before another round shattered it completely. The fox familiar howled before disintegrating into motes of fading light. Another impact—her ribs cracked, her knees buckled. A final shot drove her into the ground, carving a crater beneath her as dust and debris exploded outward in a shockwave.

When the dust settled, Nagato lay motionless, her once-commanding presence reduced to a broken silhouette against the ruined earth.

Cleveland dared to peek over the edge of her cover, her breath shallow.

"Damn…"

Atago gritted her teeth, each breath sending sharp pain lancing through her ribs. But she forced herself forward, inch by inch, until she reached Nagato’s fallen form. Gently, she gathered the shattered leader of the Japanese Shipgirls into her embrace, careful not to worsen her wounds. The weight of guilt pressed heavier on her than Nagato’s fragile frame.

"Nagato..." She whispered, brushing away the strands of dark hair clinging to the other girl's bloodied face. The once-mighty battleship, the voice of the Empire, was now nothing more than a broken whisper against her chest.

She wanted to weep. She wanted to scream. But she did neither.

A heavy metallic clank broke her from her thoughts.

Cleveland, still shaken but resolute, stood over her. The American Cruiser summoned her rigging, an anchor materializing in a burst of energy. A thick iron chain snaked forth, wrapping around Nagato’s torso and pinning her arms against her sides. It was not a cruel act, nor a violent one. It was simply part of the agreement.

Atago did not do anything to prevent it.

She did nothing but watch. She had already chosen her path.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the ruined clearing. Then—

"Gūji-sama...?"

Takao's voice was filled with disbelief, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the scene before her. The air still crackled with the aftershock of Zumwalt’s railgun strike, and the battlefield reeked of ozone and charred earth. But all she could see was her leader, the mighty Nagato, cradled in the arms of her own flesh and blood—Atago, the traitor.

Takao’s hands clenched into fists, her body trembling with a fury she could barely contain.

"You... How dare you?"

Her voice was sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade. The betrayal was now real—no longer whispered rumors, no longer distant treachery. Her own little sister had forsaken them, and now their revered leader lay broken in her arms.

Takao took a step forward, her rigging materializing in a glimmer of steel and wrath.

But before she could act—

A cold edge pressed against her throat.

She froze.

"I wouldn’t, mate."

The voice was smooth, refined, but carried a deadly undercurrent. The damned Royal Navy Shipgirl that fought her before. 

Wales stood behind her, a gleaming saber in hand, its sharp edge kissing the skin of Takao’s neck. The pressure was light, almost delicate, but the threat was absolute.

"Move, and you’ll lose your head." Wales murmured, her tone carrying the calm certainty of someone who had done this before.

Takao’s teeth clenched. Humiliation burned through her veins. She had rushed here to protect her leader, only to find herself restrained before she could even raise her blade.

Atago lowered her gaze.

"I’m sorry, Takao..." she murmured, voice hollow.

But Takao did not respond. She could only glare, betrayal and fury twisting her features.

The distant roar of rotors cut through the stillness, carrying with it the mechanical whine of a machine not of this era. All eyes turned toward the horizon, where a strange iron contraption approached, bearing the unmistakable insignia of the United States Navy.

Cleveland recognized it immediately—a V-22 Osprey, its silhouette an unfamiliar yet imposing sight in this battlefield torn between past and future. She swallowed hard.

"So they’re really pulling out all the stops, huh?" She muttered under her breath, adjusting her grip on her rigging.

The aircraft descended, its twin rotors kicking up a violent whirlwind of dust and debris. As it touched down, the rear ramp lowered with a mechanical hiss, revealing the imposing figure of a woman at the forefront.

George.

She stepped down with an air of authority, long red hair flowing behind her, a pristine doctor’s coat draped over her uniform. But despite the gentle facade of a medical officer, there was an undeniable weight in her presence—an unshakable command that even the Marines flanking her seemed to recognize.

Beside her, a smaller figure emerged. Javelin, a Royal Navy Shipgirl, her lavender hair tousled by the downdraft. Despite her usual energetic demeanor, she carried herself with careful composure, her bright eyes scanning the prisoners with a mixture of sympathy and duty.

George wasted no time.

"Secure them."

Her voice was firm, unwavering.

The Marines moved with precision, their boots crunching against the broken earth as they advanced on Takao, Atago, and Nagato. In their hands, strange metallic devices hummed with latent energy—suppression collars, designed specifically for Shipgirls.

Takao struggled against Wales' saber still hovering near her throat, but even she knew resistance was pointless.

One by one, the devices were locked into place. Cold metal snapped around their wrists and necks, their unseen mechanisms humming to life. A pulse of energy surged through their bodies, and in an instant, the invisible force that made them Shipgirls—a power that bound them to the spirits of their ships—was severed. Not entirely, but enough that they could no longer summon their rigging, nor the monstrous familiars that once fought at their side.

Nagato, barely conscious, let out a weak gasp as the last remnants of her spectral fox flickered and died. Her rigging—shattered by Zumwalt’s artillery—was now nothing more than deadweight on her battered frame.

Atago shivered at the sensation of powerlessness creeping into her limbs. For the first time in years, she felt… human.

Takao, still seething, clenched her fists. Damn them... damn them all.

"Move."

The order came sharp, cutting through the haze of pain and exhaustion. The Marines nudged them forward, their rifles at ease but not entirely relaxed. There was no need for excessive force—the collars had done their job.

One by one, the three former titans of the sea were herded into the waiting Osprey.

Cleveland exhaled slowly, running a hand through her windswept hair as she watched them disappear into the darkness of the aircraft’s hold. She had no love for traitors, but something about this didn’t sit right.

George lingered for a moment at the ramp, glancing back at Cleveland with a knowing look.

"Stay sharp, Cleve. This is just the beginning."

And with that, the ramp closed, sealing the prisoners inside.

The Osprey’s engines roared once more, and in a whirlwind of dust and displaced air, it lifted off—taking its captives into the unknown.

TBC.

Chapter Text

Northbound, USS Zumwalt.

December 22, 1941.

The drone of the engines filled the steel corridors of the her vessel as it cut through the night waves, bound for Cam Ranh Bay. The mission had been a success. Three Japanese Imperial shipgirls had been taken down, one of them an informant who had secretly aided the Allies. It was a big and significant victory.

Zumwalt set down the headset with a quiet sigh, her fingers lingering over the cold metal as if anchoring herself to reality. The ground crew had done their job well—another battle won, another step forward. But deep inside, that nagging feeling of insufficiency remained, gnawing at the edges of her thoughts.

Laffey, the ever-drowsy and slightly drunken destroyer, sat nearby, lazily twirling a half-empty bottle between her fingers. Her white hair was tied in a messy bun, a few strands falling over her face as she leaned back against the bulkhead.

"Is it done, Zummy?" She murmured, voice heavy with exhaustion.

Zumwalt glanced at her and offered a soft smile. "Yeah, sweetie. The ground crew handled it. J will be home soon too."

Laffey hummed in approval, shifting slightly. "Mmm... that’s good. You should get some sleep, Zummy. Still a few hours ‘til Cam Ranh..." A massive yawn interrupted her words, and she lazily waved a hand in dismissal.

Zumwalt chuckled. It was an oddly comforting sight, how this perpetually sleepy shipgirl had grown attached to her in just two weeks. It reminded her of camaraderie, of bonds forged in war—things that she had often failed to protect.

"Alright, alright." Zumwalt relented. "I’ll head to bed."

She stood up, stretching slightly before walking Laffey to her quarters. The destroyer girl barely made it to her bunk before collapsing onto the mattress with a muffled mumble, already halfway to sleep. Zumwalt lingered for a moment, watching her soft, rhythmic breathing before quietly closing the door.

The warmth of companionship faded the moment she was alone in her room.

---

Zumwalt sat on the edge of her cot, staring at the small metal frame in her hands. The dim light from a single overhead bulb cast long shadows on her face, making her green emerald eyes seem even more haunted.

The picture inside was new, taken not too long ago— before she became what she was now. Captain James Simmons, standing tall in his pristine uniform. Beside him, his father, Chief Mike Simmons, and a woman with long brown hair and glasses: Miss Vern Li.

Zumwalt’s fingers traced over their faces.

Captain James never knew about his father’s secret relationship with Vern. He never had the chance to. Chief Mike and Vern had died inside her main turret, desperately trying to repair critical damage as she fought to retake Hawaii. The shelling had been relentless, the sky a burning inferno, the ocean a graveyard of ships.

She had failed them.

She had always been a failure.

Even before that war, she had been nothing but a laughingstock—a so-called marvel of naval engineering turned into a budget-devouring disaster. The Navy mocked her. The politicians called her a mistake. Even when she proved herself on the battlefield, she was never enough. Too often, she was battered, broken, barely holding together as she fought to take Hawaii from The Directorate.

And in the end, it hadn’t mattered.

Her failures haunted her, clinging to her like rust on an old hull. She had been determined not to fail again, but no matter how hard she fought, the past refused to let go.

Zumwalt exhaled shakily, setting the picture down on the small desk beside her cot.

The ship trembled slightly as it cut through the waters, the engines humming a low, steady tune. Outside, the night stretched on, vast and empty, like the future she had yet to face.

No.

She had to focus on the mission. On the people still counting on her.

She was not going to fail again.

Even if the past kept whispering otherwise.

...
.....

Darkness.

Then voices.

Mocking, jeering, cruel laughter.

Zumwalt found herself standing in a vast, empty space, surrounded by faceless figures cloaked in shadow. Their forms twisted and loomed over her, shifting like smoke, their voices blending into a cacophony of scorn.

"A billion-dollar joke!"
"What a waste of taxpayer money."
"A ship that can't even fire her own guns? Laughable ."
"Stealth? What for? To hide from your own embarrassment ?"
"We should have scrapped her years ago."

The words slithered into her mind like poison, tightening around her heart like iron chains. She clenched her fists, trembling, but no words came. No rebuttal. No defense.

Because she had thought the same thing before.

She had been a failure. A joke. A waste of resources. The Navy had mocked her existence before she even touched water. The sleek, futuristic design that was supposed to make her the deadliest destroyer on the seas had instead made her a laughingstock. The most expensive ship with so many problems. A ship without a mission.

"Too slow."
"Too weak ."
"Useless."

The shadows whispered and sneered, circling like vultures. She tried to move, to escape the darkness pressing in around her, but her legs felt heavy—like she was sinking, drowning in an abyss of her own insecurities.

Flashes of battle ripped through her mind. The Third World War. The endless onslaught at the Hawaiian front. The heat of enemy fire. The howling of missile strikes. The acrid stench of burning metal. The desperate screams of sailors.

Then—BOOM.

Fire. Smoke. The metallic taste of failure in her throat.

And among it all, she saw them again. Miss Vern Li and Chief Mike, their black silhouettes barely discernible through the haze. They were shouting, trying to hold back a roaring inferno as they struggled to repair the damage. The flames devoured them whole.

Zumwalt reached out, her breath caught in her throat. "No! No! Please!"

But her hands passed through them, grasping at nothing.

Her fault. Always her fault.

Then the voices of the faceless figures came again, echoing from every direction.

"You let them die."
"You couldn't even protect them."
"You were never worth anything."
"Nothing but an expensive failure."

The weight of their words crushed down on her chest like an anchor dragging her into the depths. The world blurred. Cold. Suffocating. Alone.

And then—

A small hand, warm and trembling, grasped her own.

Zumwalt's eyes snapped open. The darkness fractured like shattered glass, the mocking whispers cut short. The world around her melted into dim lighting, the familiar metal walls of her cabin replacing the nightmare.

The hand on hers squeezed weakly. "Zummy... s’ okay... You’re fine..."

Laffey was there, half-awake, still smelling faintly of alcohol but more lucid than she let on. Her tired red eyes looked at Zumwalt with rare focus, her voice slurred but sincere. "You always do this... You think too much... but... we’re here now. We’re still here, ‘cause of you."

Zumwalt’s breath came out shaky. Her hands, still trembling, gripped Laffey’s small fingers like a lifeline.

For a long time, they sat in silence, the hum of the ship’s engines filling the space between them. Laffey’s hand didn’t move, her grip unwavering despite the sleep threatening to drag her under.

Zumwalt swallowed hard and closed her eyes.

For the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to believe that maybe—just maybe—she wasn’t a failure.

And for tonight, that was enough.

...
......

December 23, 1941 – Early Morning.

The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a few oil lamps, their flickering flames casting elongated shadows along the wooden walls. Outside, the winter winds howled against the paper-thin walls of the naval outpost, bringing with them the crisp scent of the sea. The air inside was heavy with tension, and the scent of antiseptic lingered from the medical supplies stacked neatly in one corner.

A loud, sharp thud shattered the silence.

"What do you mean?!"

Kaga’s voice roared through the room, a mixture of anger and disbelief. Her palm, wrapped in bandages, slammed against the polished wooden table, making the surface tremble under her force. She sat upright despite the pain that rippled through her body, her fox ears twitching in agitation. Layers of white bandages wrapped around her torso, arms, and even her left cheek—a testament to the brutal battle in the South China Sea only days prior. The pain was a nuisance, but what truly burned in her chest was the news she had just heard.

Haguro, standing stiffly before her superior, remained unfazed by the outburst. Her red eyes flickered with restrained fury, but her voice was as sharp as ever, cutting through the tense air with precision.

"Lady Gūji, Takao and Atago have been captured by Azur Lane."

A low, guttural growl escaped Kaga’s lips, her fangs momentarily flashing in frustration.

"Damn them! Damn them to hell!" She forced out through gritted teeth, but the anger was swiftly met with a painful reminder of her injuries. "Ughh…!" A sharp sting flared across her abdomen, forcing her back against the chair.

Haguro’s gaze remained steady, watching her commander struggle. Unlike others who would fuss over Kaga’s condition, she understood that Kaga loathed being treated as fragile.

Kaga steadied her breathing before speaking again, this time with a voice that carried a hardened edge.

"Is the Admiralty planning their rescue?"

A beat of silence.

"No news so far." Haguro admitted. "It’s as if they don’t want to communicate with us." She exhaled sharply. "However, we have confirmation that Zuikaku and Shoukaku will be deployed here along with their escorts."

Kaga’s ears twitched at the names. She narrowed her crimson eyes.

"Those two? Hah. They sure recovered quickly from their injuries."

"I heard they used an experimental 'stuff' from the Sirens." Haguro added, glancing down at the report in her hands.

A bitter chuckle escaped Kaga’s lips.

"Pfft. Of course, Siren technology." Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "They just can't resist playing with fire, can they?"

Haguro hesitated before speaking again. "Miss...?"

Kaga shook her head. "Never mind. Any other news?"

Haguro hesitated again, this time with a visible flicker of distaste in her usually impassive gaze. "Prinz Eugen, one of the Kriegsmarine representatives, has requested to meet with you. She’s waiting outside."

A heavy sigh escaped Kaga’s lips. "Tch. Send her in. I want to hear what bullshit she has to say."

Haguro turned toward the door, sliding it open with a smooth motion.

The moment Prinz Eugen entered, the atmosphere shifted.

A confident click, click of polished heels echoed through the room as she sauntered in, her hips swaying ever so slightly with each step. A playful smirk curved her lips, her striking crimson eyes twinkling with mischief. Her snow-white hair, tied into twin tails, swayed gently behind her as she moved with an elegance that could only be described as predatory.

"Ahaha~ Guten Morgen, Kaga of the 1st Carrier Division." She purred, her sultry voice laced with amusement.

Kaga felt an instant headache forming.

"Haguro, get me some aspirin. My head suddenly hurts." She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "As if having Akagi wasn't enough, now there's a cruiser version of her?"

Eugen let out a soft, melodic laugh, bringing a gloved hand to her lips in feigned innocence. "My, my. You wound me, Kaga. I came all the way here to have a pleasant chat, and this is the welcome I get?"

Haguro remained silent but visibly stiffened. There was something about Prinz Eugen that put her on edge. Perhaps it was the effortless way she exuded confidence, or the way she always seemed to be playing some unseen game.

Kaga, however, was in no mood for games.

"Spare me the formalities, Prinz Eugen. If you're here just to waste my time with flirtatious nonsense, then you can turn right back around."

Eugen chuckled again, but this time there was something darker in her gaze.

"Oh, don’t be so cold, Kaga. This isn't just a social visit." She took a seat uninvited, crossing her legs gracefully. "I bring news. News you might not like."

Kaga narrowed her eyes, her sharp instincts immediately on high alert.

Eugen leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm as she spoke, her voice dropping into a near whisper.

"The Nazi is preparing to cut its losses with the Empire."

For a moment, there was silence.

Then—

"…What?" Kaga’s voice was low, dangerous.

"You heard me." Eugen continued, her tone more serious now. "Berlin is losing patience. They don’t see a future in this war with you anymore. And let’s just say some of our 'dear leaders' never had much faith in the Sakura Empire to begin with."

Kaga’s grip tightened on the table, her claws slightly digging into the wood. "Your leaders?" Her tone was scathing. "You mean the same Nazi leaders who see you and your kind as disposable tools?"

For the first time, Eugen’s smirk faltered slightly. A flicker of something—disdain, perhaps?—flashed across her expression before she masked it with another chuckle.

"Ahaha~ Now, now, Kaga, that’s a rather harsh way to put it. But… you’re not wrong." Her voice was quieter now, but the weight behind her words was unmistakable. "I have no love for the Nazis. Nor do I have any intention of blindly following orders from men who see me as nothing more than a weapon."

Haguro’s sharp gaze flickered between the two ship girls, sensing the unspoken tensions beneath their exchange.

Kaga exhaled slowly, trying to process the implications of Eugen’s words. If the Kriegsmarine truly planned to distance itself from the Sakura Empire, then this war was about to become much more complicated.

"Why are you telling me this?" Kaga finally asked, her voice quieter now, but still laced with suspicion.

Eugen smiled—a different kind of smile this time. One that lacked her usual teasing nature.

"Because, Kaga… you’re not the only one who doesn’t want to see this war end in flames."

A heavy silence filled the room.

Kaga leaned back against her chair, closing her eyes for a brief moment before exhaling through her nose.

"Haguro, cancel the aspirin." She muttered, rubbing her temples. "I think I need something stronger."

"As you requested, ma'am." Haguro murmured as she set a small lacquered tray in front of Kaga, the porcelain sake cup filled to the brim.

Kaga reached for it but didn’t drink immediately. Instead, she kept her blue eyes locked onto Prinz Eugen, scrutinizing the Kriegsmarine cruiser’s every movement. The silver-haired woman, dressed in her usual grey skimpy uniform, lounged lazily with one leg crossed over the other, her expression ever playful, yet there was something unsettling about her demeanor.

"So… you want peace too?" Kaga asked, skepticism dripping from her voice.

Eugen smirked, her crimson eyes gleaming with mischief. "You might say so. I love peace. In peace, I can tease my dear Sister, Hipper, to my heart’s content. But war? War is a bore. Even beer is rationed! That alone is reason enough to hate it." She chuckled, twirling a lock of her white hair between her fingers.

Kaga narrowed her eyes. She had learned long ago how to read people, how to spot lies and deceit behind well-placed words. And in Eugen’s words, she sensed something deeper—a longing, a wound unspoken.

"...You want things to go back to normal." Kaga accused, her tone quieter now. "A world where Bismarck isn’t a madwoman, where your family is whole, and you’re free to pursue whatever passion you have. That’s what you really want, isn’t it?"

For a moment, the teasing glint in Eugen’s eyes dimmed.

"You… are not wrong." She admitted, her voice unusually soft. A flicker of melancholy crossed her face before she swiftly masked it with a smirk.

Kaga took a slow sip of her sake, savoring the burn before setting the cup down. She studied Eugen carefully before speaking again.

"So… what is this extraordinary suggestion of yours?" She asked, her tone laced with sarcasm as she exaggerated the word.

Eugen leaned forward, resting her elbow on her knee. "Simple." She said, a sly grin creeping onto her lips. "We follow Atago’s example."

A tense silence settled over the room.

Haguro was the first to break it. "Atago?" She asked, frowning. "She was captured after being defeated by Azur Lane’s forces on her way here while escorting the Gūji."

Eugen chuckled, shaking her head. "Oh? She’s quite the actor, then. My dear, so-called friends who no doubt will hate me, let me enlighten you—Atago is a rat. A traitor. She’s the one who fed Azur Lane all the information about the Imperial campaign in Asia. Everything. Ship formations, troop convoys, strategic movements—you name it, she handed it over."

The air in the room shifted instantly.

Before Eugen could blink, a spectral fox—its white fur glowing faintly with bluish flames—manifested beside Kaga, its sharp claws suddenly pressing against the exposed skin of Eugen’s neck. At the same time, a polished black wakizashi was at her back, its edge just barely grazing her uniform.

Haguro had moved without a sound.

Eugen’s grin faltered just slightly, but she did not flinch.

"Be careful how you speak, Eugen." Kaga’s voice was a low, dangerous growl.

But the German cruiser merely tilted her head, amusement flickering in her eyes despite the razor-thin line between life and death.

"That’s the bitter truth, mein Freund." Eugen replied, unfazed. "Atago betrayed you all for her own sake. She was selfish… but now? Her wish has been granted."

Kaga’s grip on the table tightened.

"You—!" She snarled, but she forced herself to stop. Her chest heaved as she took a sharp breath, then another. Slowly, she unclenched her fist, dismissing her fox spirit with a flick of her wrist. The creature dissolved into wisps of blue flame.

Behind Eugen, Haguro hesitated for a moment before finally lowering her wakizashi, stepping back into her original position.

Eugen rolled her shoulders, stretching as if nothing had happened. "That was exciting~" She mused with a playful smirk. "I see why people fear you, Kaga. You certainly have a sharp bite."

Kaga scoffed, crossing her arms. "Spare me your games. If what you’re saying is true, then Atago is a greater fool than I thought."

"And yet, she’s alive while many of your comrades won’t be for long if this war continues." Eugen shrugged. "Perhaps being a fool is the smartest choice in a world ruled by idiots."

Kaga didn’t respond immediately. She hated to admit it, but there was truth in Eugen’s words.

"...So what now?" she finally asked.

Eugen grinned, leaning back once more. "Well, dear Kaga, that depends entirely on you."

Kaga exhaled heavily, staring at her sake cup before setting it down. The revelation that Atago had been a traitor gnawed at her. She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to remain composed despite the storm raging inside her.

"So." Kaga muttered, her voice colder now. "If what you say is true, why are you telling me this? What's your goal, Prinz Eugen?"

Eugen chuckled, twirling a lock of her silver hair between her fingers. "Ah, mein liebes Kätzchen, you wound me. Can't a girl simply share valuable information with a potential friend?"

Kaga slammed her cup down on the table, causing a sharp clink that echoed through the dimly lit room. "Spare me the theatrics, Eugen. You're not doing this out of the kindness of your heart."

Eugen's crimson eyes gleamed with amusement, but there was something calculating beneath that playful exterior. She leaned in slightly, resting her elbow on the table and propping up her chin. "Fine, fine. You got me. I’m here to make you an offer. One that could change the course of this entire war."

Haguro remained silent but watchful, her crimson eyes sharp and unwavering. She had her doubts about Eugen’s intentions, but she understood Kaga well enough to know she would hear her out before making any rash moves.

"Go on." Kaga said, her voice laced with suspicion.

Eugen smirked. "We both know this war is unsustainable. The Imperial Navy is stretched thin, and after Pearl Harbor, the Americans won't just sit back kindly. Their industry is a monster, one that not even our great Nation can match. Meanwhile, the Kriegsmarine—pffft, what a joke. We barely have a fleet compared to yours, and yet the Führer dreams of a grand naval campaign."

Eugen paused, her expression briefly darkening. "But between you and me? The higher-ups in Berlin are just as blind as those in Tokyo. They're playing a game they don't understand, and we're the pieces being moved against our will."

Kaga's ears twitched slightly at Eugen’s words. There was venom in her voice when she mentioned Berlin.

"So what do you propose?" Kaga asked.

Eugen's smirk returned, but this time it was more subtle. "An understanding. A silent agreement, if you will. The Reich is spiraling into madness, and I have no interest in being dragged down with it. You, Kaga, have influence. You might not be the highest in command, but you carry weight in the Admiralty. We both want this war to end before our homes burn, ja?"

Kaga scoffed. "And what, exactly, do you expect me to do?"

"Simple." Eugen said, holding up one finger. "Use your influence to slow the war effort. Push for defensive strategies instead of reckless offensives. Convince your leadership that this war cannot be won through brute force alone. And in return..." She leaned in even closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I’ll make sure valuable intelligence about the Reich's movements finds its way to you. Information that might just give you the leverage you need to force peace talks before it’s too late."

Kaga stared at her, searching for any sign of deception. But Eugen’s eyes, despite their usual playfulness, held nothing but brutal honesty.

"And why should I trust you?" Kaga asked after a long pause.

Eugen leaned back with a smirk. "Because unlike Atago, I’m not betraying my comrades for selfish reasons. I’m doing this because I want to survive. And because deep down, I think you and I aren’t so different. We’re both tired of being pawns in someone else’s war."

The room fell into silence.

Haguro shifted slightly, finally speaking up. "If we go through with this, there’s no turning back. If either side finds out, we’ll be seen as traitors."

Eugen shrugged. "That’s the risk of playing the long treacherous game. But trust me, darling, it’s better than watching everything we know crumble into ash."

Kaga exhaled, closing her eyes for a moment before looking at Eugen again.

"...I’ll think about it," she finally said.

Eugen grinned. "That’s all I ask."

With that, she stood, stretching her arms above her head. "Ahh, I do hope we can work together, meine Freunde. It would be such a shame to see you all go down with the ship."

She turned to leave, her steps slow and deliberate. As she reached the door, she glanced over her shoulder. "Oh, and Kaga?"

"What?"

Eugen winked. "Try not to drink too much sake. You’ll need a clear head for what’s coming next."

With a chuckle, she stepped out into the night, leaving Kaga and Haguro in heavy silence.

"...Are you really considering her proposal?" Haguro asked after a long pause.

Kaga picked up her sake cup again but didn’t drink.

"I don’t know." She admitted. "But something tells me we won’t have the luxury of staying neutral for long."

Haguro nodded slowly.

Outside, the wind howled, carrying the scent of the sea—cold, uncertain, and full of unseen dangers.

...
.....

The Arctic winds howled as the U-556 surfaced, her hull slicing through the icy waters of the fjord with a quiet grace. The submarine’s form, sleek and sturdy, gleamed under the pale northern light. As the waves settled, the shipgirl emerged from the hatch, exhaling softly as she stepped onto the deck.

U-556—Parzival—was exhausted. The mission had been long and grueling, and though she had succeeded in evading detection, the weight of her thoughts burdened her more than any enemy depth charge ever could.

Her short, ocean-blue hair fluttered against the frigid wind. Though her standard Kriegsmarine uniform was already revealing, the cold of the fjord made it unbearable, forcing her to wrap herself in a thick overcoat. Even with the layers, the chill seeped into her bones.

As she guided the submarine through the jagged fjord passage, the sight of a massive warship looming in the distance caught her eye. Her heart clenched slightly.

Tirpitz.

The Eisenschwester, the silent guardian of the North, the younger sister of Bismarck.

Her massive, light-colored hull stood out against the dark waters, surrounded by an escort of cruisers and destroyers. Their imposing silhouettes lined the hidden Kriegsmarine outpost, a remnant of a past now twisted by Siren technology and pointless war.

Parzival’s grip tightened on the railing. She knew this base well. It was one of the U-boat major pen, a sanctuary for Kriegsmarine submarines—especially those abandoned by the passage of time.

Bismarck…

That name echoed in her mind, heavier than ever.

Once, she had been Bismarck’s loyal protector, a Knight if you may, sworn to her service with all the pride and courage she could muster. But now? Now, Bismarck had become something else. Something beyond the shipgirl she once admired.

And Parzival… Parzival had failed her.

The shame gnawed at her soul. She had abandoned Bismarck when she needed her most, running like a coward to the safety of the fjords. But… but it was for the greater good, right?

Right?

Parzival shook her head, dispelling the self-doubt, just as her submarine finally docked. As she stepped onto solid ground, the biting cold instantly sent a shiver down her spine.

Before she could gather her thoughts, a voice rang out, cutting through the stillness of the base.

"Parzy! Welcome to the Fjord!*

With theatrical energy, a vibrant figure bounded toward her, arms spread wide as if greeting an audience. The owner of the voice? None other than Z36—the embodiment of pure, chaotic enthusiasm.

She twirled dramatically, her two color eyes gleaming mischievously as she struck a pose. "Hahaha! You have finally returned from the depths, oh wandering Knight Of The Abyss!"

Parzival barely had a moment to react before another voice, much smoother, much more elegant, followed suit.

"Welcome~"

Z35 stood beside her sister, effortlessly graceful. Unlike Z36’s theatrical flair, Z35 exuded an idol-like charm, flashing a sweet smile while forming a perfect V-sign with her fingers.

Parzival blinked.

The contrast between the two never failed to amuse her. Z35, the mature and composed older sister, radiated an effortless star-like presence. Meanwhile, Z36… was Z36. A self-proclaimed demonic harbinger of chaos, her weird tendencies making her a walking spectacle of entertainment.

For a moment, the heavy burden in Parzival’s heart lifted ever so slightly.

She managed a small smile. "Thanks for the welcome, guys."

Z36 gasped dramatically, clutching her chest as if she had just been stabbed. "W-what is this? A mere ‘thanks’?! Where is the fiery passion of a hero’s return?! The emotion! The tears!"

Z35 chuckled softly, resting a hand on her younger sister’s head. "Now, now, schwester, not everyone sees life as a grand stage like you do." She turned to Parzival, her gaze warm. "But really, we’re happy to see you again."

Parzival exhaled, the warmth in their words a stark contrast to the frozen air around them.

She didn’t know what the future held. She didn’t know if she had made the right choice.

The echoing footsteps of three shipgirls resounded through the dimly lit hallways of the Kriegsmarine Outpost. The stone walls, lined with steel supports and dim lamps, gave off a haunting yet resilient presence—like a fortress lost in time, stubbornly clinging to existence in a world that had long since abandoned it.

Parzival walked in the center, her tired gaze fixed on the floor. To her left, Z36 continued her usual dramatic monologue, gesturing wildly as if narrating an epic saga.

"And so, the gallant knight, returning from the void, seeks the counsel of the Frozen Lord!" She twirled, her coat flaring dramatically. "But will she find solace? Or will her words ignite a storm that shall shake the heavens?"

Parzival sighed, shaking her head in mild amusement. "Z36, I swear, you could turn a noal visit into a Shakespearean tragedy."

"Why thank you, dear Parzy!" Z36 grinned. "I take immense pride in my theatrical gifts."

Z35, walking on Parzival’s right, gave her sister a playful nudge. "Enough with the dramatics. We need to focus."

They reached a large iron door at the end of the hallway. Two sentries, fellow Kriegsmarine shipgirls, Köln and Königsberg, stood guard. Upon recognizing Z35 and Z36, they silently stepped aside.

Z35 knocked twice before pushing the door open.

Inside, a vast chamber awaited them.

The room was cold—both in atmosphere and in decor. The walls, covered in maps and strategic diagrams, bore marks of long, sleepless nights spent planning. A large wooden desk sat at the far end, neatly organized with reports and files. The faint scent of ink and steel lingered in the air.

And behind the desk, Tirpitz stood.

Her presence was commanding despite her quiet nature.

Short white hair framed her face, a contrast to her pure white officer’s uniform, pristine and disciplined. A black skirt completed the regal yet utilitarian look. Though she carried the aura of an unshakable commander, there was a softness to her—a silent warmth hidden beneath the ice.

Unlike her elder Sister, Bismarck, whose willpower was like an unstoppable storm, Tirpitz was the calm after the battle—the lighthouse guiding the lost back home.

And here, in this frozen exile, she had become the leader of the outcasts.

Tirpitz turned her gaze to the three arrivals. Her icy blue eyes, as deep and cold as the fjord itself, softened ever so slightly.

"Parzival." She greeted, her voice smooth yet firm. "Welcome."

Parzival removed her overcoat and saluted. "Herr Tirpitz, I have urgent news."

Tirpitz gestured for her to continue.

Parzival hesitated. The words felt heavy, as if speaking them aloud would make them more real.

"Bismarck… she has made a contract with Observer Alpha."

The air in the room grew even colder.

Tirpitz’s expression remained unreadable. "Go on."

Parzival clenched her fists. "Observer Alpha has given her a task—to kill several American Kansen."

Silence.

Even Z36—who always had something theatrical to say—said nothing.

For a moment, it was as if the world itself had stopped.

Then, a quiet exhale.

Tirpitz closed her eyes. Her fingers pressed together in thought, but her posture remained composed.

When she finally spoke, her voice was measured. "I had hoped my Sister would not walk this path again…”

She opened her eyes, her resolve hardening like steel.

"I will not allow her to fall further into the Abyss."

Tirpitz turned toward her desk, reaching for the secure communication device stationed there. Her next words sent a ripple of tension through the room.

"I need to contact the Royal Navy."

...
.....

Scapa Flow, Orkney, Scotland.

The North Sea breeze carried a biting chill, but within the stone-clad fortress that served as the Royal Navy's headquarters, the warmth of a crackling fireplace and the scent of freshly brewed tea filled the air. HMS King George V, more commonly addressed as Miss Georgie by certain shipgirls under her command, sat at her grand oak desk, eyes flicking over the latest patrol reports.

Convoys had been struck here and there, but nothing unexpected. The Kriegsmarine’s U-boats were still a persistent nuisance, though the efforts of British R&D and the codebreakers at Bletchley Park had turned the tide against them. George allowed herself a small, satisfied smirk as she placed her teacup back on its saucer. A few months ago, those underwater predators had been a nightmare. Now? A manageable annoyance.

Through the tall window of her office, she observed the bustling activity in Scapa Flow. Royal Navy warships, both human-crewed and shipgirl alike, were busy with resupply operations. It was a reassuring sight—the might of the Royal Navy in full display, the steel backbone of Britannia.

A gentle knock at the door interrupted her musings, followed by the sound of polished shoes stepping across the wooden floor.

"Lady George, I have a message for ye."

The voice, cool and professional, belonged to none other than HMS Belfast, the ever-reliable Head Maid of the Royal Maids and leader of the Shipgirl Intelligence Unit, allegedly. She stood at attention, the very image of discipline in her crisp maid uniform. Her lavender eyes held a calculating glint as she placed a sealed envelope on the desk before stepping back.

"Ahh, Bel, a message for me?" George's voice carried the elegance of high nobility, her curiosity piqued. "Is it from Her Majesty?"

Belfast shook her head. "Nay. It's from someone ye might know."

George arched an eyebrow before elegantly breaking the seal and unfolding the note. Belfast, as always, waited in composed silence.

As George read, her crimson eyes gleamed with intrigue.

Bismarck is on the move.
Target: American shipgirls .
When? Unknown.
Why? Unknown.
Signed, Queen of the North.

A knowing smirk crossed her lips. Queen of the North? Ah, Tirpitz. Ever the enigmatic one.

"So, Bismarck is planning something, is she?" George mused, tapping her fingers against the desk in thought. "Interesting. Though one does wonder what exactly she hopes to gain from attacking an American shipgirls at this time."

Belfast, still standing by the fireplace, folded her arms. "D'ye want me to send some of the maids tae gather more intel?" Her tone remained formal, though there was an unmistakable edge of readiness in her stance.

George chuckled, leaning back in her chair. "No, no. The last time we tried that, they were chased through France by that mad dog called Roon. I would rather not deal with another mess caused by her rabid antics."

Belfast's lips curled in distaste. "Aye, Roon’s an absolute menace. But what about Tirpitz? If she’s the one sending this, perhaps she’s willing to talk."

George’s smile widened. "Precisely my thoughts. Send a few maids—discreetly—to the fjords. Let them open a channel with Tirpitz. See if she has something more valuable to offer."

Belfast hesitated for a brief moment, her sharp gaze locking onto George’s. "You trust the younger sister of Hood’s killer?"

George didn’t flinch. Instead, she picked up a delicate macaron from a tray beside her and took a slow, deliberate bite before answering. "In this world, dear Bel, there are no eternal allies, nor eternal enemies—only eternal interests. If Tirpitz needs us, and we need her, then why not seize the opportunity? The Kriegsmarine is fracturing from within. If we can tip the scales in our favor, we must."

A moment of silence stretched between them before Belfast finally sighed, her posture relaxing ever so slightly. Then, her refined accent slipped away, giving way to the thick, unmistakable drawl of her homeland.

"Fine then. I’ll see tae it personally. But mark my words, Lady George, I’ll make damn sure we come out ahead in this deal."

George chuckled, setting her teacup down with a delicate clink. "Oh, I never doubted you, Bel." She then smirked knowingly. "Though I do believe your accent is slipping."

Belfast rolled her eyes. "Ach, who gives a damn? This is how I bloody speak, after all."

With that, the head maid turned on her heel, already planning her next move. George watched her go, amusement flickering in her crimson eyes before she turned her attention back to the burning fire.

...
.....

The library of Scapa Flow was a grand, old structure, lined with towering bookshelves filled with centuries of naval history, strategy manuals, and the odd bit of classical literature. It was the sort of place one would expect to find admirals lost in thought over maritime theory—not a place for covert operations.

But behind a seemingly ordinary wooden bookshelf, Belfast stepped into a dimly lit chamber—a hidden nerve center for the Maid Corps, manned solelu by shipgirls who specialized in espionage, counterintelligence, and clandestine operations.

The air inside carried the scent of parchment, gun oil, and the faintest trace of fine black tea. A long wooden table stood in the center, illuminated by a few hanging lamps, where two figures were already waiting.

One was Sheffield, the ever-serious and stone-faced Maid. Her golden eyes reflected nothing but cold efficiency, and her body language was as stiff as ever—shoulders squared, arms crossed, gaze sharp. Sheffield was methodical, precise, and utterly unshakable.

The other was Edinburgh, Belfast’s older sister. Unlike Sheffield’s stoicism, Edinburgh was an open book—her hands fidgeted, her foot tapped slightly, and her expression flickered between curiosity and concern. She was reliable, yes, but a bit clumsy when under pressure.

Belfast sighed as she closed the hidden door behind her. The moment it clicked shut, her proper maidly composure melted away. Gone was the graceful, disciplined demeanor—what remained was pure, raw Belfast, a woman whose voice carried the unmistakable weight of her homeland.

"Right, ye lot, listen up." She began, rolling her shoulders. "We've got big bloody news."

Sheffield nodded once, remaining as expressionless as ever. Edinburgh, on the other hand, perked up.

"What’s happened now, Belsy?" her sister asked, voice thick with her natural Scottish brogue.

Belfast tossed a crumpled paper onto the table. "Bismarck’s makin’ a move. Target’s an American shipgirl. We don’t know when, we don’t know why, but we do know who’s tellin’ us this—Tirpitz."

Sheffield’s golden eyes narrowed. "Queen of the North." She murmured, her voice as cold as steel. "You trust her intel?"

Belfast exhaled sharply through her nose. "It’s worth a gamble. Kriegsmarine’s in the middle o’ tearing itself apart, an’ Tirpitz is sittin’ there, watchin’ it happen. If she’s reachin’ out tae us, it means she either needs an ally or wants a deal."

Edinburgh frowned. "An’ what’s Lady George say about it?"

"She’s given the go-ahead." Belfast said, leaning on the table. "We’re sending some of our own tae the fjords tae see what Tirpitz really wants. But we’re nae just goin’ tae be playin’ nice—we want this deal on our terms."

Sheffield tapped the table once, a sign that she was already thinking three steps ahead. "Who are we sending?"

Belfast crossed her arms, her sharp lavender eyes sweeping across both of them. "You two."

Edinburgh nearly choked on her own breath. "Me? Ye want me on an espionage mission?"

"Aye." Belfast said flatly with that damn smile.

"Are ye mad?!" Edinburgh flailed slightly. "Sheffy’s the silent killer type, aye, but me?! I cannae even walk through a bloody corridor without knocking something over!"

Belfast smirked. "Aye, ye’re clumsy, but ye’ve got a way o’ talkin’ tae folk. Tirpitz is smart—too smart tae trust someone like me, cause she knows I’ll be lookin’ fer weaknesses. But you? You don’t look like a threat. She’ll let her guard down, an’ that’s when we learn what we need."

Edinburgh groaned, rubbing her temples. "So ye’re usin’ me as bait?"

Belfast clapped her sister on the shoulder. "Nae bait—insurance."

Sheffield, ever the professional, simply nodded. "Understood. What are our cover identities?"

"We’re sendin’ ye as diplomats. Officially, you’re there tae discuss safe passage for merchant convoys through contested waters. Unofficially? We’re finding out what the hell Tirpitz is really plannin’ and what she want to say."

Edinburgh sighed. "Well, that sounds like a right lovely holiday."

Belfast grinned. "Aye, ye’ll love it. Cold, dangerous, an’ full o’ Gerry who might shoot ye in the head if ye say the wrong thing."

Sheffield, unbothered as ever, simply adjusted her gloves. "When do we leave?"

"First light tomorrow." Belfast said. "There’ll be a destroyer escortin’ ye tae neutral waters, then ye’ll be picked up by a Kriegsmarine vessel an’ taken tae the fjords. Keep yer eyes open, an’ don’t trust a bloody soul."

Edinburgh grumbled but gave a half-hearted salute. "Aye, aye. Let’s just hope I dinnae trip on the way there."

Belfast smirked. "If ye do, at least make it look dramatic."

Sheffield sighed. "This is going to be a disaster."

After Sheffield and Edinburgh had left to prepare for their journey, Belfast lingered in the dimly lit intelligence chamber. Her lavender eyes flicked toward a lone figure standing by the bookshelves, an air of quiet confidence surrounding her.

The young woman had long brown hair that flow like wave and wear a tricorne hat, an unbuttoned light blue naval jacket draped over her shoulders, and a white shirt partially covered by a brown leather vest. She wore white shorts and calf-length leather boots, giving her an almost rogue-like appearance—fitting for someone who spent most of her time stalking prey beneath the waves.

Beside her, resting against the bookshelf, was a rifle unlike any other. The upper barrel resembled a standard rifle, but the lower portion hinted at something more—a built-in torpedo launcher, a brutal tool for close-quarters anti-submarine warfare.

HMS Hunter.

True to her name, she was among the Royal Navy’s finest U-boat hunters, feared by both Sirens and Kriegsmarine submarines alike. Whether her targets were mass-produced ships or enemy shipgirls, she always carried out her duty with ruthless efficiency.

Hunter tipped her hat slightly as Belfast approached, her brown eyes polite but observant, always scanning for hidden intentions.

A sudden bark shattered the silence.

Belfast’s gaze snapped downward at the source of the disturbance—a sleek black Dobermann standing at Hunter’s side. The beast was well-trained, its ears perked, its dark eyes sharp.

Belfast folded her arms. "Ye ken fine well there’s no pets allowed in the library, Hunter.'

Hunter chuckled softly, resting a gloved hand on the Dobermann’s head. "Aye, aye, Miss, ye’ve told me before." She patted the dog once before giving it a subtle signal with her fingers. The beast immediately sat, silent and still as a shadow. "But I dinnae go anywhere without Fenrir. He’s good luck."

Belfast rolled her eyes but let it slide. She had more pressing matters to attend to. "Right then. I’ve got a job for ye."

Hunter adjusted her hat. "Another U-boat patrol?"

Belfast shook her head. "Not quite. I need ye tae follow Sheffield an’ Edinburgh. Keep yer distance—stay in the shadows. If anything moves tae harm them…"

Hunter’s easygoing expression hardened slightly. She understood without needing to hear the rest.

"… Kill it."

There was no hesitation in Hunter’s response. "Aye. Consider it done."

Belfast studied her for a moment. There were few shipgirls she trusted completely, but Hunter had earned that trust many times over. If anyone could keep Sheffield and Edinburgh safe without being seen, it was her.

Hunter tipped her hat once more before retrieving her rifle and slinging it over her shoulder. She gave a small whistle, and Fenrir stood at attention.

Belfast watched as the hunter disappeared into the shadows, moving like a ghost through the library. With her presence gone, the chamber felt colder, emptier—yet Belfast felt more at ease.

She muttered under her breath, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Ye’d be a bloody nightmare if ye ever turned against us, Hunter…"

And with that, she turned and left, knowing that the mission was in the best possible hands.

TBC.

Chapter Text

...
.....
.........

Hong Kong.

December 24, 1941.

0900 Hours.

HMS Thracian stood amidst the ruins of Hong Kong, her tattered sailor's outfit stained with soot, blood, and the salt of the South China Sea. Her brown hair, tied in a loose ponytail, was streaked with grime, and her once-pristine uniform-white with blue trim-was now a mere shadow of its former self, torn and frayed from weeks of ceaseless battle. She raised a weary gaze toward the sky, her crimson-tinged eyes narrowing at the thick columns of smoke rising over the harbor.

The Japanese assault never ceased. Wave after wave of Imperial soldiers pushed into the city, their relentless artillery bombardments leveling entire districts. The once-thriving jewel of the British Empire in the East, the gateway between East and West, now lay in smoldering ruin, its streets clogged with debris, wrecked trams, and the bodies of the fallen.

The memories of those early days of resistance burned in her mind. She had fought alongside the gunboats Cicala and Tern, their crews firing every last shell to slow the enemy's advance. The first landings had been repulsed, their surprise met with a British and colonial force that refused to break. But the Japanese had adapted, escalating their assault with Siren-enhanced weaponry-impossible aircraft, hovertanks, and energy rifles that left bodies with charred, gaping wounds.

And now Thracian was alone.

She let out a bitter chuckle, the sound barely audible over the distant echoes of artillery fire. A single, aging S-class destroyer against the full might of the Imperial Japanese Navy-what a cruel joke. The Admiralty had known this battle was a losing one. Had they sent her here to die, to be a sacrificial piece on the chessboard of war? She had fought Siren-enhanced mass-produced shipgirls, dozens of them, swarming like locusts. Even though they weren't as strong as proper Kan-Sen, their sheer numbers had nearly overwhelmed her. Her old 4-inch QF cannons did little against their reinforced hulls, but her torpedoes-21-inch and 18-inch caliber-had kept her in the fight.

For how much longer, though?

The cold air carried the acrid scent of gunpowder and burning wood. From the shattered remnants of a nearby barracks, a young Punjabi soldier approached, a tin mug of coffee in his hands. He was no older than nineteen, his uniform dirtied and torn, his turban slightly askew from days without rest.

"Miss Thracian, coffee." He said, his voice hoarse yet steady.

She looked at him-at his weary yet resolute expression, at the determination in his dark eyes. He had fought in these hellish streets for as long as she had, side by side with the British and the local Hong Kong Volunteer Defense Corps. They were all holding out together, abandoned yet unbroken.

A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she accepted the cup, its warmth seeping into her fingers. "Thank you, soldier."

He nodded. "You're welcome, miss." Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the ruins, back to whatever grim duty awaited him.

Sitting still... how rare.

Just yesterday, she had fought with every ounce of strength she had left. Now, for the first time in weeks, she could pause-even if only for a moment. But the weight of reality pressed down on her shoulders like an anchor. The situation was dire. The defenses were crumbling. They had held out for nearly three weeks, but no reinforcements had come.

Had London abandoned them?

The thought gnawed at her. Perhaps Hong Kong was never meant to be saved-only to stall the Japanese advance long enough for Singapore and other vital territories to be reinforced. If that was the case, then she and every soldier still standing were already dead.

Her grip tightened around the tin mug.

Fine.

If she was to die here, she would make damn sure the enemy bled for every inch they took.

HMS Thracian took a long sip of the lukewarm coffee, letting its bitter taste linger on her tongue. She had seen enough war to know what was coming. The eerie silence that had settled over the ruins of Hong Kong wasn't peace-it was the deep breath before the storm.

And sure enough, the storm arrived.

The first explosion came from the north, somewhere near Wong Nai Chung Gap. Then another, closer this time, as a salvo of artillery shells rained down on the British defenses. The ground trembled beneath her feet. Sirens wailed. The final attack had begun.

Thracian cursed under her breath and tossed the empty mug aside. As she straightened her torn uniform, she felt it-a shift in the air, the presence of something unnatural.

Then she saw them.

Two towering figures stood atop the burning skyline, their silhouettes framed against the rising smoke and crimson morning sky. The Imperial Japanese Navy's battleship Kan-Sen, IJN Ise and IJN Hyuuga, had arrived.

Both sisters were towering dreadnought battleships, originally planned as younger siblings of the Fusō-class. Their forms radiated raw power-sleek yet imposing, their armor adorned with the emblem of the Rising Sun. Each wielded a massive naginata, the curved blades gleaming ominously in the morning light. Mounted on their backs were their main guns: colossal 356mm cannons, capable of tearing apart fortifications and shipgirls alike.

Thracian exhaled slowly, steeling herself. This was never a fight she could win. Yet she still charged forward.

Her worn-out 4-inch cannons barked in defiance, sending shells streaking toward the incoming dreadnoughts. But they barely scratched their armor. The two battleships didn't even flinch.

Hyuuga moved first, vanishing in a blur of motion. Before Thracian could react, a razor-sharp naginata cut through the air, slashing deep into her left side. Blood-thick, metallic, and warm-splattered onto the shattered pavement.

She staggered but refused to fall. Gritting her teeth, she launched her torpedoes-desperate, reckless. The first set missed, the second exploded harmlessly against Ise's thick armor.

Then Ise struck.

A massive force slammed into her from behind-Ise's naginata impaling her straight through her back. The sheer power of the blow sent shockwaves through her body, her legs giving out beneath her. She gasped, blood spilling from her lips. The taste of iron filled her mouth.

Pinned between the two sisters, she felt her strength fading. Her vision blurred.

This was it.

She had fought for weeks, held the line when no one else could. But in the end, she was just an old destroyer, worn down by time and war, facing two titans.

As she slumped forward, she dimly heard the sound of something new cutting through the air-a shrill, mechanical screech.

Then-explosions.

Ise and Hyuuga both turned sharply, their eyes widening in surprise as streaks of fire rushed toward them from the British positions.

Missiles.

Captured Siren weapons, crude and experimental, but still deadly. They weren't designed against shipgirls, but they hurt. The two dreadnoughts recoiled as the missiles struck, their armor cracking under the unexpected assault.

The battleship sisters made a snap decision. The British still had some fight left in them. This battle was over. With a final glance at Thracian's dying form, Ise and Hyuuga turned and retreated into the thick smoke.

And Thracian?

She lay there, with gaping hole, bleeding out onto the cold pavement, her vision darkening with every passing second. The sounds of war faded into a distant hum.

She had held out as long as she could.

Maybe... that was enough.

As the battle raged on in the remnants of Hong Kong, Thracian's broken body lay still on the bloodstained streets. The fighting had subsided for the moment, and British soldiers, weary and grim, had ventured out from their defenses to retrieve their fallen comrade. Her once-proud figure, now a battered silhouette against the rubble, was carefully lifted by a small group of soldiers, their faces etched with sorrow and respect.

They moved with tenderness, their hands shaking as they cradled her like a precious artifact—one that had fought valiantly until the very end. Some of them, men who had seen too many comrades fall, found their eyes wet with tears. Thracian had not been just a shipgirl, not just a tool of war—she had been a symbol of resilience, a sister-in-arms, and a beacon of strength. For the British soldiers who had stood beside her, her loss was as profound as the city itself falling to the enemy.

Major General Christopher Maltby, a hardened officer who had led countless battles, knelt by Thracian’s side. His usual steely demeanor softened, his eyes clouded with the weight of what had transpired. He placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head, the sound of distant artillery echoing as a mournful backdrop. The young Punjabi soldier who had shared the coffee with Thracian earlier stood nearby, his face drawn tight with grief.

Brigadier Cedric Wallis, Admiral Andrew Chan, and Rear Admiral Henry Hsu stood in silence as well, a silent tribute to the fallen warrior who had held the line against impossible odds. Thracian had done more than any one of them could have hoped to do. She had fought until her very last breath.

And then there was Governor Mark Young, his face grim yet resolute, his hands trembling as he stepped forward. He had been the one to rally the last of the defenders, to organize whatever forces he could scrounge together, and to give Hong Kong one last stand. But this—this loss was beyond words.

"I will see to it." He said, his voice low, trembling with emotion. "The King and the Prime Minister must know of her bravery. I will petition for the highest award possible, no matter the cost. She deserves it, and more. She deserves to be remembered by history."

His words carried the weight of command and sorrow in equal measure. Governor Young paused for a moment, as if considering the depths of what Thracian had given. He was a man of duty, but even he could not escape the human side of this war—the side that mourned the loss of one who had fought not for a medal or honor, but for the survival of those she fought alongside.

Thracian’s body was placed on a stretcher, and the procession moved toward the temporary memorial that had been hastily erected in the heart of Hong Kong’s shattered city center. Flags hung limply, their colors faded in the choking smoke, but they still fluttered proudly in the wind.

With the soldiers standing in solemn ranks, Governor Mark Young cleared his throat and held up a piece of paper—a letter, folded neatly.

"This is the will of the late HMS Thracian." He announced, his voice carrying across the silent crowd. His eyes briefly flickered to the solemn faces of the British officers standing beside him before he read aloud the final wishes of a fallen comrade.

"I regret that I will not see my sisters again, nor my juniors, who have yet to experience the true horrors of this war. I wish only that they will learn from my mistakes, that they will not be swayed by the overwhelming weight of time and war. But if I am to fall, I would like to be buried where I once dreamed of peace—Ceylon or Singapore, if possible. Let me rest in a land that is not forgotten by the storms of war, but that may someday find calm again."

Governor Young’s voice cracked slightly at the final words, and the officers standing beside him, each a figure of military command, seemed to gather closer, the grief on their faces more apparent now than ever before. Thracian’s wish was one shared by many who had fought alongside her: that someday, somewhere, there would be peace again.

The men stood silent for a moment, each of them paying their respects. The weight of war, the never-ending grind of battle and loss, was not something easily escaped. Yet even in these dark times, a soldier’s final wishes had to be honored. Thracian's body would be transported, as she had asked, to one of the far-flung British colonies—where she could be laid to rest, far from the horrors of the battlefield.

As the procession began to move forward, Major General Maltby, his voice low but filled with conviction, spoke quietly to those around him. "We will not let her sacrifice be in vain. We will fight on. For her. For all of them."

The mournful echoes of artillery fire, the scent of smoke, and the solemn steps of the men carrying their comrade would forever mark this moment in the hearts of those who had fought alongside Thracian. Even though she had fallen, her memory would remain a beacon, guiding them through the darkness of the war that was far from over.

December 25, 1941.

Dawn broke over the ruined city, but there was no time to mourn. The battle was not over. The Union Jack still flew over Government House, tattered but defiant, just like the men and women who fought beneath it.

British troops, exhausted but resolute, held their ground against the overwhelming force of the Imperial Japanese Army. Their ammunition was dwindling, and supplies were running dangerously low. The streets, once bustling with traders and merchants, had turned into labyrinths of rubble and makeshift fortifications. Every man, every woman, every rifle counted.

And then, the storm came again.

The same two shipgirls who had cut Thracian down—IJN Ise and IJN Hyuuga—led a renewed assault. Behind them, a swarm of Siren mass-produced shipgirls advanced, their eerie synthetic voices echoing over the gunfire. These were no ordinary enemies—these were creatures of nightmare, wielding weapons that burned through steel and flesh alike.

But the British defenders did not yield. They fought with bayonets when bullets ran dry, turned the wreckage of vehicles into shields, and refused to give the enemy a single inch without a price in blood. Even as Siren plasma cut through their lines, even as the dreadnought sisters rained 356mm hell upon them, they stood.

And then, the sound came.

A deep, rhythmic thump-thump-thump—like the approach of a titanic locomotive. The ground trembled, and before anyone could react, the enemy’s frontline was obliterated in an instant. A monstrous explosion ripped through the Siren ranks, vaporizing mass-produced shipgirls in a blinding white fire.

More flashes followed—brilliant, searing streaks of energy that left afterimages burned into the retinas of anyone who dared to look. The Japanese lines wavered, and even the battleship sisters Ise and Hyuuga took a step back, startled by the sheer devastation.

Then, from the sea, she came.

A warship unlike anything seen before, its silhouette sharp and menacing against the morning haze. It bore the sleek profile of a Kirov-class battlecruiser, but its armament was something different. Two massive AGS Railguns sat mounted on its bow, still glowing from the power they had just unleashed. Each shot struck with the force of divine judgment, hammering the Japanese fleet with unrelenting fury.

The enemy faltered. Ise and Hyuuga exchanged uneasy glances before signaling the retreat. The Siren units, without orders, attempted to regroup—but another volley from the railguns shattered their cohesion. The Imperial Japanese forces began to withdraw, dragging their wounded with them, but their retreat was a defeated one.

As the smoke cleared, British troops cautiously stepped forward, rifles still raised, their breath misting in the cold air. The enormous warship in the harbor slowly drifted closer, her weapons silent but ominous. Then, from the main deck, a lone figure emerged.

She stepped lightly, her movements almost ethereal, despite the heavy steel plating of her warship form. Her uniform was unlike any naval attire anyone had ever seen—military, yet foreign. A Communist Chinese flag adorned her shoulder, and her hair was styled in an elaborate traditional fashion, reminiscent of the royal princesses of ancient China.

Admiral Andrew Chan, still catching his breath from the brutal engagement, stepped forward. His officers flanked him, their expressions a mixture of awe and caution. The woman before them was no ordinary shipgirl—there was something different, something... out of place.

He cleared his throat, steeling himself before speaking.

"You saved us." He said, his voice firm but questioning. "Who are you?"

The shipgirl smiled, her eyes sharp with a knowing glint.

"I am Admiral Zhang He." She replied, her voice carrying an air of wisdom beyond her years. "A ship... from the future."

Silence followed. The British officers exchanged looks, struggling to comprehend the enormity of her words. The future? Was this some new kind of Siren deception? Or had something truly extraordinary happened on this battlefield?

The air was thick with tension, the scent of burning metal and seawater mixing with the acrid tang of gunpowder. The ruins of Hong Kong’s once-proud skyline loomed in the distance, shrouded by the smoke of recent battles. Zhang He, a shipgirl from a world far beyond this one, stood calmly before Admiral Chan and his assembled officers. Her presence was an anomaly—her sleek, futuristic uniform, the faint blue glow of her cybernetic implants, and the way she carried herself spoke of a time and place beyond their understanding.

The British forces, a mixed contingent of colonials, Hong Kongers, Canadians, and Royal Navy personnel, observed her warily. Some of them clutched their rifles a little tighter, while others murmured about the lifeless bodies of the so-called Sirens—pale-skinned, inhuman women who lay in twisted wrecks near the waterfront. The Type-27 Spider robots, scuttling across the debris, carried away the remains with methodical precision. The sight of such advanced technology only deepened the unease.

"You... A ship from the future? How is that possible? Are you a Siren machination?" Admiral Chan’s voice carried authority, but there was a slight quiver in it. He had seen too much today.

Zhang He tilted her head slightly, her violet eyes glowing faintly as she processed his words. "Sirens... Is that what they are?" She gestured toward the lifeless bodies being carried away, her gaze unreadable.

"Yes... Right... So I assume you're not part of them? Considering you're uhh..." Admiral Chan made a gesture, drawing his finger across his throat.

Zhang He laughed crisply, the sound both warm and melancholic. "Of course not, Admiral. I just recently... regained something precious. The feeling of being human—it's very unique."

Her gaze dropped to her own hands, and she flexed her fingers as if seeing them for the first time. The motion was slow, deliberate, as though she was savoring the sensation of movement. "What a wonderful sensation..." She murmured, more to herself than to anyone else.

Chan exchanged glances with his officers before cautiously pressing forward. "So, Miss... Zhang He, was it? What is your purpose here? And... are you really from the future? Did we—" He hesitated, his voice betraying an emotion he had tried to suppress. "Did we win against the Sirens?"

The question hung in the air like a dagger. The British soldiers leaned in, their faces filled with hope and dread. Zhang He met their gaze, her expression soft but deeply sorrowful.

She smiled bitterly. "Worse, gentlemen. Much worse."

The light in her eyes dimmed as memories surfaced—of burning cities, of the world crumbling under the weight of war, of her own country plunging the world into the abyss. She could still hear the broadcasts, the voices of the Directorate's leadership speaking of progress, of victory, of a world reshaped in their image. And yet, all it had brought was ruin.

"I will explain everything in due time." She continued, pushing aside the memories. "With your other leaders... if there are any left?"

Her words sent a fresh wave of unease through the ranks. Admiral Chan exhaled sharply. "Of course... but we don't know if we can trust you yet."

Zhang He smiled in understanding. "It’s okay, Admiral. I understand the distrust. But please... I only wish to help my fellow countrymen, despite the differences in our timelines."

A long silence followed. The soldiers studied her, trying to decipher her intentions. Then, finally, Admiral Chan nodded.

"Alright, Miss Zhang He." He said, his voice steadier now. "Let's see what you have to say."

The arrival of Governor Mark Young was marked by a flurry of activity among the British officers. Soldiers straightened their postures, their murmurs subsiding into silence as the leader of Hong Kong stepped forward, accompanied by Major General Christopher. The governor’s expression was one of weariness—deep lines etched into his face.

Zhang He, standing calmly, inclined her head in greeting. "Governor Young." She said, her voice smooth but laced with quiet authority. "I assume you are the one in charge of this city?"

The governor studied her warily, his sharp gaze flickering between Zhang He’s futuristic uniform and the glowing accents on her body.

Admiral Chan, however, stepped forward, his tone decisive. "Governor, we’ve lost Thracian. Our protector is gone." The unspoken weight in his words sent a ripple of unease through the gathered officers. "This shipgirl—Zhang He—has offered her assistance, but she requests full disclosure of the current situation in return."

Governor Young’s brow furrowed. His hesitation was evident—trusting an unknown entity, especially one who claimed to be from the future, was a gamble. But Zhang He’s presence, her demeanor, and the technology surrounding her suggested she was no ordinary being. More importantly, as Chan had bluntly pointed out, they had no other choice.

He exhaled sharply, nodding at last. "Very well." He said, rubbing his temples as if the weight of history itself pressed down on him. "Let’s begin."

Governor Young, along with Admiral Chan and Major General Christopher, began explaining the events that had unfolded over the past years. Zhang He listened intently, her expression unreadable as she absorbed each detail.

It began with the rise of the Axis—a coalition of nations that had abandoned conventional warfare, instead allying themselves with the Sirens, alien entities from another dimension that sought the destruction of humanity. These nations, wielding Siren-enhanced technology, quickly outpaced the rest of the world. The balance of power was shattered overnight.

The battles had been brutal. The Axis’s technology, far superior to anything the Allies possessed at that time, made victory nearly impossible. The most recent and devastating blow had been the War in the Pacific—just weeks ago, Japan had launched a devastating surprise attack on Hawaii. Unlike the attack of December 7, 1941, this assault had been carried out using Siren-powered weaponry. The damage had been catastrophic, at least that's what they thought.

As Governor Young spoke, Zhang He’s fingers curled slightly, memories stirring within her. The Second Battle of Hawaii. She had been there, leading the Sino-Russo Joint Fleet, only to face defeat at the hands of an enemy she had not expected— Zumwalt. A warship that at first being thrown away because too expensive and always fail, suddenly become the best US Naval Asset.

She had perished there.

Or rather, she had lost herself.

Zhang He’s violet eyes darkened for a moment, but she said nothing, allowing the governor to continue.

Then came something that caught Zhang He’s attention completely—the Shipgirls.

Governor Young explained how, at the onset of the war with Siren, a mysterious phenomenon had occurred. A strange material known as the Wisdom Cube had appeared across various naval bases around the world. These cubes had the power to manifest warships into humanoid forms—living embodiments of the vessels they once were.

"Through these cubes." Admiral Chan added. "We were able to bring forth the spirits of our ships. The Royal Navy, the US Navy, even the former fleets of fallen empires—all given life again as Shipgirls."

As if on cue, a flickering blue light shimmered in Zhang He’s palm. A Wisdom Cube materialized in her grasp, pulsing with a faint hum of energy. The British officers immediately tensed at the sight, their unease momentarily replaced by shock.

"She really is one of them." Major General Christopher murmured.

Admiral Chan, eyes locked on the cube, exhaled slowly. "Not a Siren. A true Shipgirl."

Zhang He stared at the cube, feeling its familiar warmth. It was proof of her nature. Proof that she had not been lost. Proof that she was still Zhang He, the once-proud flagship of the Directorate’s navy.

She looked up at Governor Young and the gathered officers, her voice quiet yet resolute. "I understand now."

The weight of the war, the losses, the betrayals—she could see the echoes of it all in their eyes. This was not just another conflict. It was a battle for the survival of humanity itself.

She tightened her grip on the cube. "Then let us discuss how I can help."

The room was dimly lit, the glow of Wisdom Cube casting sharp, restless shadows across the faces of the officers gathered around the makeshift war table. The air was thick with fatigue and desperation, yet a new presence had begun to shift the atmosphere.

Zhang He stood at the center of the room, a calm yet commanding figure amidst the exhausted defenders. Her long, brown hair swayed slightly as she moved, the flickering light catching the golden embroidery of her uniform—a stark contrast to the soot and grime-stained fatigues of the men around her. Her violet eyes, deep with intelligence and sorrow, surveyed the assembled commanders.

Admiral Chan leaned forward with weary eyes. "Zhang He… we are barely holding on. You understand that, yes? The Japanese forces have taken almost everything. Thracian fought to the last, and now we’re left with whatever scrap of hope remains."

A heavy silence followed the mention of Thracian. The former Guardian had been their pillar, their protector. And now, she was gone.

Zhang He lowered her gaze momentarily. "Wǒ míngbái… I understand." Her voice was smooth, gentle, yet tinged with grief. "Her sacrifice was not in vain. I will honor her by ensuring this city does not fall without a fight."

Major General Christopher, a Canadian officer with a sharp, calculating mind, folded his arms. "We have little left to fight with, Lady Zhang He. The Japanese keep tightening their grip, and our supply lines are choked off. Unless Azur Lane sends reinforcements—which seems unlikely given we haven’t heard from them in two weeks—we’re dead men standing."

Zhang He nodded, then reached into the folds of her uniform. With a soft click, several small, sleek devices extended from her hands. Stealth reconnaissance drones—compact, efficient, and far superior to anything the defenders had.

"These will be our eyes." She said as the drones silently lifted off, vanishing into the night. "Give me a moment, and I will give you the battlefield."

The holographic projector she pulled out earlier flickered, then exploded into life. Detailed, up-to-the-minute scans of Hong Kong and the surrounding waters appeared in stunning clarity. The locations of enemy patrols, strongpoints, supply depots—everything was laid bare in mere moments. Gasps of astonishment rippled through the room.

Admiral Hsu let out a breath. "This… this is beyond what we ever had. We’ve been fighting blind, and now…'' He trailed off, eyes scanning the map.

Zhang He remained focused, her expression hardening. She manipulated the map with swift, precise movements. "We cannot afford to fight head-on. We lack the numbers, we lack the heavy firepower. But what we do have is knowledge. Knowledge of this city, knowledge of enemy movements, and me."

She looked up, meeting each officer’s gaze.

"Listen carefully. The Japanese believe they have us cornered. But a predator that thinks its prey is helpless lowers its guard. We will exploit this arrogance."

The officers leaned in as Zhang He outlined her strategy. Every detail was meticulous, every variable accounted for. She divided their forces into small, highly mobile units that would strike at weak points—disrupting supply lines, eliminating officers, sabotaging equipment. She pointed out an underground maintenance tunnel network that could be repurposed for ambushes. She identified key locations where she, herself, could engage the enemy directly to cause maximum devastation with minimal risk.

Her plan was cold, efficient, and ruthless. But most importantly, it was possible.

"Major General Christopher." She said, turning to him. "Your Canadian forces will handle the harbor assault teams. If they attempt to land reinforcements, we must deny them. Admiral Hsu, your remaining naval assets will deploy in a feint—make them believe a breakout attempt is imminent, drawing their forces away from our real objective. Admiral Chan, I will need you to oversee the urban resistance forces. We will hit them from the shadows and drag this battle out until Azur Lane respond."

A tense pause followed. Then, Admiral Chan straightened. "This plan… it might actually work."

Major General Christopher exhaled. "Damn. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m in."

Admiral Hsu nodded. "So am I."

Zhang He gave a small smile, but her eyes remained distant, haunted. "Hǎo… Good. Then let us begin."

Just as they sealed their agreement, Governor Mark Young entered the room, his face grim. He left earlier because another report just came in.

"I assume you have an update for us?" Admiral Chan asked.

The governor gave a tired nod. "I do. And it’s not good. Almost the entire city is lost. We hold only this district, and even that will not last without immediate action. Communications with Azur Lane remain cut. We are alone."

A heavy silence fell. But then Zhang He spoke, her voice unwavering.

'Then we will show the enemy that Hong Kong is not so easily taken."

She stepped forward, her presence filling the room like a tide rising. The sorrow of the past still clung to her, the weight of her nation’s sins pressing down on her soul. But for now, for this moment—she would fight. 

...
....

A few dozen kilometers from Hong Kong, Azur Lane's Task Force sailed through the misty dawn, the sea reflecting the dull glow of their navigation lights. The air was tense yet calm—a deceptive quiet before the inevitable storm of battle.

On the bridge of the Zumwalt, the shipgirl herself sat at her workstation, absently toying with an apple from the basket beside her. Across from her, Laffey lounged on a chair, half-asleep as usual, her red eyes lazily watching Zumwalt with a knowing glint.

Zumwalt sneezed suddenly, startling herself. Then again. And again. Laffey tilted her head, a small smirk on her lips as she wordlessly handed over a handkerchief she had prepared in advance.

"Zummy, are you okay?" Laffey asked, her voice slow and drowsy, but tinged with quiet concern.

Zumwalt wiped her nose, then chuckled softly. "I'm fine, dear. Just a little… not feeling well. Even if a ship doesn't get sick, sometimes I just—" She hesitated, her fingers tightening around the apple. Her voice lowered. "For the past few nights, I've been feeling strange. Like I want to kill someone."

The apple in her hand burst with a wet crunch.

Laffey blinked, her expression unchanged as bits of fruit juice splattered across the terminal. "That's a good apple, Zummy." She murmured.

Zumwalt blinked as well, as if waking up from a trance. "Ah! I'm so sorry, Laffey!" She hurriedly reached for a napkin, her hands moving with mechanical precision as she cleaned the mess.

Laffey simply watched. She wasn't lazy, not really. She just understood.

They sat there, a quiet moment of understanding passing between them, before the crackle of the radio cut through the air.

"Geo, reporting in."

Zumwalt's head lifted, her gaze sharpening.

"Hey everyone, I can see Hong Kong already. Sending in some F-35s for a little Zoom and Boom."

A dark chuckle followed, one that could only belong to George W.H. Bush—the ever-boisterous supercarrier.

Zumwalt's fingers danced over the controls, switching feeds to an external camera. The distant silhouette of Geo came into view, her deck bustling with activity. The launch catapults roared to life as F-35s and F-18s streaked into the sky, afterburners lighting up the dim morning. Overhead, an E-2D Hawkeye circled, its radar scanning for enemy movements. Further out, a mixed formation of Wildcats from Lexington, Enterprise, and Hornet took off in waves, setting the stage for absolute air dominance over Hong Kong and Guangzhou.

Laffey turned her head, watching the screen with half-lidded eyes. "...Guess it's starting."

Zumwalt exhaled slowly. "Looks like I'm about to shine again, Laffey."

"Mhmm..." Laffey stretched, then slowly sat up. "I will protect you, along with Javelin, Francisco, and Sandy. Cheer up."

Zumwalt couldn't help but smile. Laffey's voice was soft and slow, but her words held weight—reassuring in a way that no amount of armor plating or missile salvos could be.

With a chuckle, Zumwalt reached over and ruffled Laffey's white hair, resisting the temptation to pinch her soft cheeks. "You're too cute, you know that?"

Laffey, still half-asleep, only murmured, "...Mmm, I know."

....
......

The sky over Hong Kong was thick with smoke and the fiery streaks of anti-aircraft fire. Below, the city trembled as Imperial Japanese forces, bolstered by Siren constructs, pushed their assault. Yet, above the chaos, the silent roar of jet engines cut through the clouds—twenty F-35s, launched from Geo's Carrier, soared in tight formation.

Geo herself stood on the bridge of her vessel, her green eyes glinting with a playful smirk despite the intensity of the battle. "Ladies, let's give them a proper introduction." She purred, her voice smooth as silk over the comms. But beneath her flirtatious demeanor lay the instincts of a hardened warrior. As soon as the E-2D early warning aircraft locked onto targets, she snapped into action.

"Targeting data confirmed." Came the synthesized voice of ATHENA AI, the advanced combat intelligence aboard pretty much all US Navy Ships in the future..

The F-35s banked sharply, evading the hailstorm of Japanese anti-air fire and the eerie, guided streaks of Siren missiles. Chaff and flares burst into the sky, dazzling distractions against the lethal volley. Then, with mechanical precision, the aircraft released their payloads—SPEAR 4 and SiAW missiles streaked downwards, slamming into columns of Imperial Japanese tanks and the hovering, unnatural forms of Siren war machines. The explosions tore through the streets, sending plumes of fire and shrapnel into the air.

Aboard Zumwalt, the towering figure of the shipgirl stood with her arms crossed, her blonde hair flowing in the salty wind. Her expression was calm, but deep inside, a storm raged—memories, shadows of old wounds that never truly healed. But now was not the time for doubt.

"Transmitting enemy positions." ATHENA’s voice rang in her mind, fed from the E-2Ds above.

"Copy that... Targeting systems locked in." Her voice was steady, though her hands trembled slightly as she activated the AGS.

With a deep breath, Zumwalt exhaled and pulled the imaginary trigger.

A deafening THOOM split the air as her railgun roared to life. Hypersonic projectiles tore across the sky, striking Siren vessels in a storm of destruction. In just four minutes, she had fired 200 rounds—each impact a testament to her lethal efficiency. Smoke curled from the heated barrel, forcing her to pause and let it cool, though the battlefield demanded more.

"Good work, Zumwalt." Geo's voice chimed in, teasing yet reassuring. "You’re a real showstopper."

Zumwalt sighed, rubbing her temple. "I just do my job."

Nearby, San Francisco and San Diego rushed forward, their sleek forms cutting through the waves. With Javelin and Laffey flanking them, they unleashed hell upon the enemy. Laffey, ever sleepy-eyed, lazily raised a hand before opening fire, her single barrel guns spitting out relentless firepower.

"I’m so tired…" Laffey muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I guess… I should try harder."

Her torpedoes slammed into the Siren fleet, detonating in synchronized blasts that sent black-and-red-hued metal flying. Despite her lethargic nature, Laffey knew exactly how her enemies felt—when to strike, when to hold back, when to crush them utterly.

Far below, hidden within the murky depths, two silent predators waited. Orzeł and Warner both lay in wait like wolves in the dark.

"Orzeł, you ready?" Warner's voice came through the encrypted link.

A soft chuckle. "Of course, dear friend. Let’s remind them that the sea is not theirs to command."

With a single command, multiple AIM-9X missiles erupted from beneath the waves, slicing through the water before breaking the surface in an explosive breach. The missiles arced upward before homing in on targets in the heart of Hong Kong. Siren tanks and troop formations were obliterated in the blink of an eye.

Above, Geo chuckled, watching the devastation unfold. "Ah, there's nothing more beautiful than the sight of fire and steel in perfect harmony."

The battle raged on, fire and smoke consuming Hong Kong. The clash of artillery and gunfire was deafening, but now, amidst the chaos, the sound of steel meeting steel rang out—an ancient, primal battle between warriors.

From the rolling waves, several figures approached, cutting through the burning sea. Imperial Japanese shipgirls, clad in the insignias of the Rising Sun, arrived with purpose in their eyes. Their presence was like a storm on the horizon—ominous, inevitable.

On a crumbling bridge overlooking Victoria Harbour, Javelin and Ayanami stood opposite each other, their weapons gleaming in the dim, smoke-filled air.

"You shouldn't be here." Ayanami said, her voice quiet yet firm. She gripped the hilt of her sword, the light reflecting off its pristine blade.

Javelin twirled her spear, her signature weapon, before settling into a battle stance. "And let you take Hong Kong and kill all its denizens? No way!"

Without another word, Ayanami moved first, her blade flashing in an arc too fast for the eye to follow. Javelin barely sidestepped, sparks flying as the sword grazed her rigging. She retaliated, thrusting her spear forward with explosive force, forcing Ayanami to leap back.

The two clashed again and again, their speed almost inhuman. Each movement was a perfect blend of instinct and skill—Ayanami's swordplay was fluid, precise, while Javelin's spearwork was aggressive and relentless. They were polar opposites—one swift as a shadow, the other fierce as a storm.

Ayanami feinted left, then suddenly vanished—her speed pushing past human limits. Javelin's eyes widened as she barely managed to block the incoming strike. The force of the attack sent her skidding backward, her boots grinding against the ruined pavement.

Panting slightly, Javelin grinned. "Heh… you're good, Ayanami. But…" She spun her spear and lunged, lightning crackling around her weapon. "I won’t lose!"

Their battle continued, a deadly dance of light and shadow amidst the chaos of war.

Down below, in the ruins of a market street, San Francisco found herself surrounded. A group of Imperial Japanese destroyer shipgirls circled her, their faces full of battle-hardened determination.

"You're outnumbered." Urakaze sneered, gripping a katana.

San Francisco rolled her shoulders and swung her weapon—a heavy, reinforced baseball bat—over her shoulder. She smirked. "Heh, that just means more targets."

The destroyer shipgirls attacked at once.
Kagerou slashed at her with a blade, but San Francisco ducked low and countered, swinging her bat into the girl's side. The impact sent her opponent crashing into a pile of debris.

Matsukaze came at her from behind, but San Francisco twisted, catching the sword mid-swing with her armored forearm before slamming the bat into the attacker’s gut.

"Home run!" She laughed as the girl went flying.

Two more rushed her, Inazuma and Ikazuchi, working together, their movements coordinated. San Francisco blocked Inazuma's strike but took a glancing hit on her shoulder. Growling, she adjusted her grip and slammed her bat against the ground, creating a shockwave that knocked them off balance. In that split second, she dashed forward, delivering a brutal swing that Sent Ikazuchi sprawling.

The last destroyer standing, Hibiki, hesitated, gripping her weapon tightly.

San Francisco wiped a bit of dirt off her cheek. "You still wanna go?"

The girl lunged, but San Francisco sidestepped and caught her by the wrist. In one swift motion, she yanked the girl forward and swung her bat upward, sending her opponent crashing into a burning wreck.

Breathing heavily, she looked around. "Tch. That all ya got?"

The street was littered with downed enemies, and though she was bruised, she was still standing tall.

The Allied ground forces had landed in the harbor after the remaining enemy warships were driven north by relentless bombardment. The sight of AMTRACs and armored vehicles rolling through the shattered streets brought both relief and hope to the defenders who had fought tooth and nail to hold the city for weeks. British, Canadian, and other Colonial forces, alongside local volunteers, had endured a brutal siege, but now, as the remnants of Japanese troops who had refused to retreat were swiftly overwhelmed, it was clear—Hong Kong had held on.

Governor Mark Young, Major General Christopher Maltby, and the remaining officers watched in awe as waves of American Marines and their Allied counterparts flooded the city, securing key positions with ruthless efficiency.

Among the ruins, Javelin pursued Ayanami with her spear, refusing to let the Japanese shipgirl escape unscathed. "You’re not getting away that easily!" She called out, her spear flashing as she closed the distance.

Ayanami, however, was resolute. With the rest of her fleet in retreat, she had taken it upon herself to cover their escape. She deflected Javelin’s strikes with her blade, moving defensively, her crimson eyes filled with determination rather than anger.

But she knew the truth. The battle was lost.

A final clash of weapons sent both girls skidding backward, panting. For a moment, neither moved. Then, in a single leap, Ayanami broke away, dashing toward the sea where the last of the Japanese shipgirls had already withdrawn.

Javelin gritted her teeth, gripping her spear tightly. The city was safe, but the war was far from over.

By noon on December 26, the fires were beginning to die down, leaving only the smoldering remnants of buildings that had stood for years. The cost had been terrible—thousands of British, one Shipgirl, and colonial soldiers had given their lives in defense of Hong Kong. Their sacrifices had not been in vain.

From the decks of the Allied warships, five figures disembarked onto solid ground.

Zumwalt, her usually calm face shadowed by lingering thoughts, but her steps firm as she escorted the others.

Geo, her confident, flirtatious smirk momentarily replaced by something more solemn—victory was sweet, but the sight of the devastation left a bitter taste.

Enterprise, the Grey Ghost herself, tall and proud, her silver hair catching the sunlight as she surveyed the battlefield with a calculating gaze. Lexington and Hornet, standing side by side, their presence exuding both relief and quiet strength.

They flanked a man whose very name was legend in War against Siren—Admiral William "Bull" Halsey. His sharp eyes scanned the wreckage, taking in the sight of the battle-worn defenders who had given everything for this city.

Governor Mark Young stepped forward, his uniform disheveled but his posture unbroken. "Admiral Halsey." He greeted, his voice hoarse but steady. "You came just in time."

Halsey removed his cap, nodding. "We weren’t going to let Hong Kong fall, Governor. Not today."

Major General Christopher Maltby, standing beside the Governor, gave a tired but respectful salute. "Your fleet turned the tide, Admiral. We held on, but it was your girls who truly broke the enemy's back."

Zumwalt, standing slightly behind Halsey, exhaled softly, the tension from the battle still lingering in her chest. Geo, standing beside her, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You did good, Zum. We all did."

Zumwalt gave a small nod but said nothing. The battle was won—but war had a way of reminding even its victors of the scars it left behind.

Enterprise crossed her arms. "The Japanese shipgirls won’t take this lightly. They’ll be back."

Halsey smirked, his usual confidence shining through. "Let them come."

They then talk for a bit, after that they hear footsteps getting closer. The arrival of Admiral Zhang He cast a heavy shadow over the gathering. She stepped forward with an air of authority, her Chinese Directorate Navy uniform pristine, every button polished, every fold perfectly aligned. Her brown hair, tied into a side ponytail, swayed slightly as she moved, and her violet eyes—deep and unreadable—studied the assembled shipgirls with an unreadable expression.

But those present had no difficulty reading the atmosphere.

Zumwalt and Geo stiffened the moment they saw her. The flag on Zhang He’s uniform—the emblem of the Chinese Directorate—was a stark and bitter reminder of their past. The blood-red banner, so similar to that of the old Chinese Communist Party, sent a surge of rage through Geo’s veins. Her lips curled, her muscles tensed, and before anyone could stop her, she was already striding forward, hands clenched into fists.

Zumwalt reacted in an instant, stepping in front of Geo, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. Her own expression was just as dark, but there was restraint in her eyes—restraint Geo clearly lacked at this moment.

Enterprise, Lexington, and Hornet, who stood nearby, exchanged glances. Even Admiral Halsey, found himself at a loss for words. These two shipgirls—Zumwalt and Geo—were among Azur Lane’s strongest for now, and now they looked ready to tear Zhang He apart where she stood.

Zhang He, however, remained composed, her expression never wavering. If she felt fear, she did not show it.

"Zhang He." Zumwalt finally spoke, her voice like ice. "I thought I had sink you in North Hawaii."

Geo’s entire body was shaking. She had murder in her eyes.

A small, knowing smile crossed Zhang He’s lips. "Zumwalt, yes, you’re right. I did sank." She exhaled, tilting her head slightly. "But I’m alive.'

Zumwalt’s fingers twitched. Geo growled under her breath, her entire being trembling with barely restrained fury.

"You should be thankful I held Geo back." Zumwalt said, her voice heavy with unspoken threats.

Zhang He met her gaze with eerie calm. "I know." She sighed, her eyes flicking briefly toward Geo, who looked ready to tear her apart. "I’ll be honest. I did what I had to do. I carried out my duty, just as you two did yours. Do you think I had a choice? What did you expect me to do, Zumwalt? At the end of the day, we’re the same—just scraps of iron molded and controlled by human hands."

"Fucking whore" Geo spat, her voice laced with venom, her breath coming out in ragged huffs. Her fingers twitched, yearning to strike, to make Zhang He pay.

Zhang He remained still. Her expression betrayed no fear, no anger—only a tired sort of patience.

"Geo..." Zumwalt placed a firm hand on her shoulder, gently but unmistakably restraining her. "Hold your temper. This is not the time."

Geo exhaled sharply through her nose, nostrils flaring. Her glare never left Zhang He as she took a step back, her muscles still tense.

Zumwalt turned her gaze towards the others—Admiral Halsey, Enterprise, Lexington, and Hornet, all of whom stood in tense silence. She also noted the presence of the Hong Kong officials, Governor Mark Young and General Christopher Maltby. They, too, seemed uncertain of how to respond to the tense confrontation.

Geo scoffed, glaring daggers at Zhang He before spitting on the ground in disgust. "You're in luck, Directorate dog." She muttered, her voice dripping with venom.

She finally pulled away, stepping back towards Enterprise and Hornet. The two shipgirls immediately moved to her side, their hands finding her shoulders and back, grounding her, soothing her.

As for Zumwalt, she remained standing where she was, her expression unreadable, but her eyes never leaving Zhang He.

The tension in the air was suffocating.

The tense confrontation gradually shifted as Governor Mark Young cleared his throat and stepped forward. His voice was steady, authoritative. He wasted no time in briefing the gathered shipgirls and officers about the dire situation in Hong Kong. The city had withstood relentless waves of Japanese attacks, but the pressure was mounting. The garrison needed reinforcement, and their fortifications had to be strengthened if they were to hold out much longer.

Admiral Halsey, ever the aggressive strategist, listened intently before nodding. "Then we take the fight to them." He said firmly. "I brought a detachment of U.S. Marines with me. We can push north and link up with the Unified Front forces. A counterattack would relieve some of the pressure here."

Mark Young considered this before giving a curt nod. "That could work, but we’ll need more men. More supplies. More firepower."

Halsey smirked. "Then I’ll get you more. I’ll call in more Marine divisions to reinforce the mainland."

Enterprise, who had been standing at Halsey’s side, her arms crossed as she listened, finally spoke up. She gave her own input—suggestions for coordinating with local resistance forces, for utilizing air support effectively—but in the end, she was Halsey’s secretary. She took notes, relayed orders, and ensured that the planning process moved smoothly.

While the war council continued, Zumwalt gently but firmly took Geo by the arm and led her away from the others. Geo resisted at first, her body still shaking from anger, but she let herself be guided. The two shipgirls found themselves at a quiet spot, away from the planning and the watchful eyes of their allies.

Geo exhaled sharply, pacing back and forth, still fuming. "That bitch." She Muttered. "After everything they did. After what they did to me."

Zumwalt remained quiet, letting her vent. She had seen Geo like this before—her passion, her fury, her pain. It was a familiar sight, but it never got easier to watch.

Geo stopped suddenly, her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white. She looked down, breathing heavily. Her voice trembled as she finally spoke.

"I never even launched my fighters."

Zumwalt’s breath caught in her throat. She knew what Geo was talking about.

"I was still just a ship." Geo continued, her voice breaking. "Didn’t even get the chance to fight back. Just… silence. Then the torpedoes. Then the cold. Sinking. I could hear them on the radio, calling out for me. And I couldn’t answer. I was just… gone."

She let out a bitter laugh, but her shoulders were shaking.

Zumwalt stepped forward and pulled her into a tight embrace. "You’re here now." She whispered. "You’re not alone."

Geo tensed at first, but the warmth of Zumwalt’s presence melted through her defenses. Her breath hitched, and then, finally, she broke. The tears came, silent at first, then in sobs that wracked her body. She clung to Zumwalt, the weight of her past crashing down all at once.

Zumwalt held her through it, gently rubbing her back, whispering reassurances. Geo had always put on a strong front—confident, flirtatious, always carrying herself with that playful bravado—but there were wounds she never let others see.

And Zumwalt understood them all too well.

They weren’t alone for long.

Zumwalt noticed the soft sound of footsteps approaching, and when she looked up, Zhang He was there, standing a few feet away. Her expression was unreadable, but her posture was not tense. She held no hostility.

Geo stiffened, pulling away from Zumwalt, quickly wiping at her eyes. Her face twisted into a scowl.

Zumwalt straightened but said nothing, waiting.

Zhang He exhaled and finally spoke. "I came to apologize.,

Geo scoffed. "Apologize? That’s rich."

Zhang He remained calm, her violet eyes steady. "I do not expect you to forgive me. I only ask that we start over. Not as enemies bound to repeat old grudges, but as allies with a common goal."

Geo’s expression darkened. "Allies?" She spat. "With a Directorate dog?"

Zhang He didn’t flinch at the insult. "I want to liberate my homeland." She said simply. "And I want to fight the Sirens."

That made Zumwalt pause. She had expected empty words, excuses, maybe even some justification for past actions. But Zhang He’s voice was firm, sincere.

Geo, however, was not convinced. "And why the hell should I believe you?"

Zhang He met her glare with an even gaze. "Because I have nothing left." She sighed, looking away for the first time. "The Directorate is not what it once was. I have lost everything. The only thing left for me is to fight for something greater than myself."

Zumwalt studied her carefully. There was truth in her words, but there was also something else—a deep regret, perhaps even guilt.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, considering. Then, with a tired sigh, she spoke.

"…Fine." She said, her voice reluctant but steady. "I’ll accept it. But don’t expect me to trust you immediately."

Zhang He nodded, as if she had already expected that answer. "That is fair."

Geo, however, remained silent, her hands still clenched at her sides. Her jaw tightened. Finally, she turned away with a sharp huff.

"You do whatever you want, Zum." She muttered. "But I’m not going to play nice with her."

Zumwalt sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "One step at a time, Geo."

Geo crossed her arms, glaring at the ground. She wasn’t ready to forgive. She wasn’t sure she ever would be.

Zhang He then invited them over to a particular building among ruins of Hong Kong.

The air around the temporary memorial was still, heavy with the lingering scent of burning incense. Zhang He stood before the altar, eyes closed in quiet reverence as the soft smoke curled into the windless sky. Before her, laid upon a simple but well-kept bier, was the body of the late Thracian—an old destroyer shipgirl who had given her life in battle against the Japanese battleships Ise and Hyūga just two days prior.

Zumwalt and Geo stood a few steps behind, watching as Zhang He carefully placed three incense sticks before the fallen shipgirl and pressed her palms together in prayer.

Zumwalt frowned. The sight was… odd. Strange, even. A technocrat, the flagship of the Directorate, praying? That alone was something she never expected to see. It didn’t fit with the cold, calculating image she had of Zhang He and her Directorate forces.

She took a step closer, arms crossed. "Why?" She asked, her voice quiet but firm. "Why are you praying to her?"

Zhang He didn’t open her eyes as she replied. "Because she fought with honor."

Zumwalt’s frown deepened. "We’re just ships in the end." She muttered. "Steel and circuits given form. It’s strange seeing you of all people—someone from a technocrat-led country—engaging in something like this."

At that, Zhang He opened her eyes. They glowed faintly with the reflection of the incense flames as she turned her head to meet Zumwalt’s gaze. "Does being created by human hands make us unworthy of faith?" She asked. Her tone wasn’t confrontational, merely curious. "No one knows where the souls of fallen shipgirls go… but that doesn’t mean we should forget them."

Zumwalt said nothing, but Geo, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. Her voice was quieter than usual, lacking its usual flirtatious lilt.

"…Where do you think she went?" She asked, staring at Thracian’s still form. Her body was well-preserved, her expression calm as if she had simply fallen into a deep slumber.

Zhang He turned back to the altar. "I don’t know." She admitted. "But I like to think that wherever she is, she is at peace."

Before anyone could say anything further, a small group of Colonial soldiers approached the memorial. They were quiet, solemn, their boots crunching against the dirt as they carried a folded Union Jack flag and a simple wooden coffin. One of them, a tall Punjabi soldier with a weathered face, stepped forward and placed a hand over his heart before speaking.

"She fought well." He said softly. "She will be prepared for her journey to Ceylon in a few days. It is what she wanted."

Zumwalt studied him for a moment. There was grief in his voice, but also respect. Thracian had been more than just another shipgirl to him—she had been a friend. A comrade.

Geo exhaled, her eyes flickering to the flag and the coffin. The sight made something heavy settle in her chest.

This was an afterthought neither she nor Zumwalt had ever wanted to confront. They could die. They could bleed. They could be defeated.

For all their power, for all their abilities, they weren’t invincible. They weren’t untouchable. And just because they were the embodiments of ships, it didn’t mean they couldn’t fall like anyone else.

And that, more than anything, was terrifying.

TBC.

Chapter Text

... 

..... 

Cam Ranh Bay Naval Base, Indochina. 

27 Desember 1941, morning. 

The salty sea breeze rolled over the harbor, mingling with the distant echoes of aircraft taking off from the nearby airstrip. The sky was clear, but the atmosphere inside the command room of the Imperial Japanese Navy's fleet was anything but.

Kaga’s fist slammed onto the wooden table, rattling the porcelain teacups resting atop it. Her piercing blue eyes, sharp as a predator’s, burned with frustration.

"What are you saying?! Enterprise is in Hong Kong!? How can that be?!"

With an audible crack, Kaga’s foot met the table’s sturdy legs, sending a sharp tremor through the floor. The anger in her voice was enough to make the officers outside the room pause in their steps.

Haguro, standing across from her, barely flinched. Her expression remained as unreadable as ever, though a cold sweat dripped down her back. She had expected this reaction.

"They managed to slip past all of our patrols." She reported, her voice calm but tinged with unease. "Our forces recovered fragments of wrecked warships… Signs suggest they were taken out by a submarine attack."

Kaga clenched her jaw. "Damn it! Damn Azur Lane to the ninth hell! Gather the fleet—we’re moving out now!"

Haguro inhaled quietly, lowering her gaze. "...Kaga-sama, we can’t abandon our post."

Kaga narrowed her eyes. "And why not, Haguro?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Please, enlighten me. I’m all ears."

Haguro met her gaze, her tone unwavering. "The Imperial Army is still locked in combat in Malaya. The Admiralty’s orders were clear—we are to provide naval bombardment alongside the Fifth Carrier Division."

Kaga exhaled sharply through her nose, her tail flicking in irritation. "Tch." Her ears twitched, reflecting her inner turmoil. Frustration gnawed at her, but she couldn’t deny the logic.

A few tense seconds passed before she turned on her heel. "Fine. If we’re stuck here, we need every available shipgirl ready. Go find Zuikaku and Shoukaku."

"Understood, Kaga-sama." Haguro bowed slightly before hurrying out of the command room.

Several minutes crawled by, each second stretching into eternity. Kaga paced the room, her arms folded tightly across her chest. The thought of Enterprise and her fleet slipping past them like ghosts left a bitter taste in her mouth. She had studied in America—she knew how the enemy thought. But somehow, the Azur Lane had still caught them off guard.

The doors slid open.

Haguro returned, and behind her were the Crane Sisters—Zuikaku and Shoukaku.

Zuikaku strode in first, her brown hair styled into side ponytails that swayed with each step. Dressed in her signature white robe with a short red pleated skirt, she exuded the energy of an eager warrior ready to prove herself. Her katana rested at her hip, her grip firm yet relaxed.

"Kaga-senpai! You called?" Zuikaku greeted, a confident smile at her lips.

Kaga shot her a look. "We’re in the middle of a crisis, Zuikaku. Try to act like it."

Zuikaku’s smirk faltered slightly, but she nodded.

Shoukaku followed her sister, moving with a grace befitting her snow-white kimono. Her long, flowing silver hair framed a face that was both motherly and authoritative, though her sharp crimson eyes hinted at her combative nature. Unlike her younger sister, she was not one to hold back in disagreements—especially with Kaga and Akagi.

"You seem agitated, Kaga-Senpai." Shoukaku’s voice was smooth, but there was a challenging edge to it. "What’s going on?"

Kaga took a deep breath. "Enterprise’s fleet is in Hong Kong. They slipped past our defenses, and we suspect submarine assistance. If we had authorization, I’d be leading an attack right now, but the Admiralty insists we stay put and focus on Malaya."

Zuikaku frowned, gripping her katana’s hilt. "So what? We’re just going to sit here and let them do whatever they want?"

Kaga’s tail flicked again. "For now, yes. But that doesn’t mean we won’t prepare. If Azur Lane thinks they can sneak past us, they’re sorely mistaken. I want every aircraft on standby, every shipgirl at the ready. The moment we’re given the green light, we strike."

Shoukaku crossed her arms. "Are you sure you’re not just itching for a fight, Kaga?"

Kaga shot her a glare. "I don’t itch for fights, Shoukaku. I win them."

Zuikaku let out a nervous chuckle. "Well, I like this plan a lot more than twiddling our thumbs. Just say the word, and I’ll be ready to go."

Haguro, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "...Then I’ll make the necessary arrangements. But Kaga-sama." She hesitated for a moment. "Just… don’t let your emotions cloud your judgment."

Kaga scoffed. "Emotions? Please, Haguro. I am always in control."

And yet, as she looked out toward the open sea, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Enterprise had played her hand just a little too well.

The tension in the room still lingered, but Kaga exhaled slowly, forcing herself to relax. No amount of frustration would change the Admiralty’s orders. And if she had to stay put, then she might as well make use of the time.

She reached for a lacquered wooden box on the table and slid it open, revealing a fine bottle of sake along with a few porcelain cups. Without a word, she poured a generous amount into two of them and pushed them toward the Crane Sisters.

"Here." She said, her voice calm but firm. "Drink."

Zuikaku looked at the offered cup, then back at Kaga. "Ah… Sorry, Kaga-senpai. I don’t really enjoy sake." She admitted with an apologetic smile.

Kaga arched an eyebrow but said nothing. She simply turned to Shoukaku instead.

The elder Crane, however, accepted the bottle with a pleased expression. "Now this, I won’t refuse." Shoukaku said with a smirk, filling her own cup before raising it. "Kanpai, Kaga-senpai."

Kaga clinked her cup against Shoukaku’s before they both took their first sips.

Zuikaku and Haguro exchanged glances before letting out a synchronized sigh.

It didn’t take long for the alcohol to settle in. Kaga and Shoukaku were composed at first, but with each sip, the conversation grew less restrained.

Then, Shoukaku decided to strike.

"You know." She mused, swirling the remaining sake in her cup. "For someone who claims to always be in control, you certainly have a bad track record against Azur Lane."

Kaga’s ears twitched. Her fingers tightened slightly around the cup.

Shoukaku continued, her tone deceptively casual. "You lost at Hawaii… and again when you tried to support the counterattack at Singapore. That one was really bad, wasn’t it? Got blindsided by an attack out of nowhere. I heard you were so badly injured you almost—"

Kaga slammed her cup onto the table, her tail bristling.

"Tch. You’re enjoying this far too much, Shoukaku."

"Am I wrong, though?" Shoukaku shot back, her blue eyes gleaming with amusement.

Kaga narrowed her gaze. "You seem awfully confident for someone who wasn’t even there in Singapore."

Zuikaku, sensing where this was going, quickly stepped in. "Alright, that’s enough." She said, raising her hands in an attempt to defuse the situation. "We don’t need to do this, especially not when we’re all stuck in this miserable base with nothing to do."

She sighed, rubbing the back of her head. "Besides, I don’t get why you’re always picking fights with our Senpais, Nee-san."

Shoukaku gave her younger sister a knowing smirk. "You respect them too much, Zuikaku. You should see them for what they really are—annoying, arrogant, and full of themselves."

Zuikaku groaned. "I do see that! Believe me, I know how annoying they are! But I still try to be nice."

Kaga, meanwhile, refilled her cup with a smirk of her own. "Annoying, huh? If that’s what you think, Shoukaku, then I suppose I could return the favor."

She leaned forward slightly, her voice laced with amusement. "Remind me again, who was the one who spent two weeks struggling to land her planes properly when she first joined the fleet?"

Shoukaku’s smile faltered.

"Oh, and wasn’t it you who once crashed one of your own aircraft into the sea during a training exercise?" Kaga added, her grin widening.

Shoukaku’s eye twitched. "That was one time!"

Kaga shrugged. "One time too many, if you ask me."

The back-and-forth continued, their words growing sharper yet increasingly ridiculous under the haze of alcohol. The morning sun had barely risen, and already, a battle had broken out—not on the high seas, but over a shared bottle of sake.

Zuikaku and Haguro could only watch in exasperation as their seniors bickered like schoolchildren.

Zuikaku sighed. "It’s gonna be a long day…"

Haguro simply nodded in silent agreement.

The atmosphere in the dimly lit officers’ lounge at Cam Ranh Bay Naval Base was already tense, but then the doors swung open with a loud creak, and in strolled Prinz Eugen, carrying a wooden crate filled with imported German beer. Right behind her was Z23, who looked like she had just been forced to march through hell.

"Guten Morgen, meine Damen!" Eugen greeted with a smirk, setting the crate down on the table with a heavy thud. "It seems I arrived just in time. What’s the occasion?"

"Drunken stupidity." Z23 muttered, crossing her arms. She adjusted her glasses and sighed. "Prinz, it’s completely unprofessional to drink in front of an important foreign officer—"

But Eugen had already popped open a bottle and raised it high. "And yet here I am, proving that professionalism is overrated." She took a long sip, looking far too pleased with herself.

Z23 groaned, rubbing her temple.

Meanwhile, Shoukaku and Kaga had reached the point in their argument where their insults were barely coherent, but neither of them was backing down.

"You’re just mad because you can’t land a plane to save your life." Kaga slurred, pointing an accusatory finger at Shoukaku.

"And you’re just mad because Enterprise keeps handing your ass to you." Shoukaku shot back.

"Oof. She’s got a point." Eugen chimed in with a sly grin. "I mean, let’s be honest, Kaga—you’ve had a pretty rough time lately. First Hawaii, then Singapore, and now you’re stuck here in Indochina, drinking your frustration away."

Kaga’s ears twitched in irritation, but before she could retort, Eugen smoothly continued.

"But don’t worry, you’re not the only one dealing with failure. I mean, Bismarck certainly isn’t winning any awards for competent leadership either."

Z23’s eyes widened. "Eugen—!"

"What?" Eugen said with an innocent smile. "It’s true! She exile many Shipgirl who question her after that whole fiasco in the Atlantic, and now we are the ones paying the price for her mistakes. Tell me, Z23, do you honestly believe that woman can be saved?"

Z23 clenched her fists. "Yes!" She snapped, her voice filled with conviction. "No matter what you say, I still believe in her!"

Eugen rolled her eyes. "How sweet. Delusional, but sweet." She turned back to Kaga and Shoukaku with an amused expression. "Speaking of delusions, let’s talk about Akagi."

Shoukaku suddenly perked up. "Oh, now I’m listening."

Kaga scowled. "Don’t you dare—"

"Oh come on, Kaga." Eugen interrupted. "You of all people should know she’s completely insane. Devoted, yes. But sane? Absolutely not."

Shoukaku smirked. "She’s right, you know. Akagi’s a lunatic."

Kaga’s tail bristled. "Akagi is a visionary! She is—"

"A psychopath." Shoukaku corrected. "And a control freak. The way she obsesses over you and her own dream? It’s creepy."

Kaga slammed her cup down, causing a sharp crack in the table’s surface. "Take that back!"

Eugen leaned in, grinning like a cat that had just cornered a mouse. "Ooh, I love how defensive you get about her. Very interesting. Very suspicious too."

Kaga growled.

Now Zuikaku, Z23, and Haguro all had the same reaction—they simultaneously smacked their foreheads, groaning at the sheer embarrassment of their colleagues.

Zuikaku muttered. "I hate everything about this."

Z23 sighed. "I should have just stayed in my room."

Haguro, who had been silent up until now, quietly shook her head. "...This is why I don’t drink."

Meanwhile, Eugen, Kaga, and Shoukaku continued their chaotic banter, each fueled by alcohol, rivalry, and an unspoken desire to see who could get under whose skin the most.

It was still early morning, and already, disaster had struck.

The alcohol was working its magic, and any semblance of professionalism had long since drowned in the sea of imported German beer and Sake. Kaga and Shoukaku were now leaning aggressively toward each other, their foreheads nearly touching, as they continued their drunken verbal duel.

"You know what your problem is, Shoukaku?" Kaga sneered, barely able to focus her glare. "You act all high and mighty, but deep down, you're just a second-rate carrier who will never be as good as me."

Shoukaku gasped theatrically, placing a hand over her chest. "Oh my God, Kaga. You wound me! But let’s not forget, I’m still standing here, not getting blown up every time I set foot near Enterprise or other Azur Lane forces!"

"Oooooooh!" Eugen and Zuikaku both jeered in unison, though Zuikaku immediately regretted it when she realized she had just encouraged this madness.

Kaga’s ears twitched in rage. "I swear to Amaterasu, Shoukaku, I will end you!"

"Go ahead! Try it!" Shoukaku spread her arms wide, clearly inviting a fight. "Oh wait—you can’t, because your planes keep getting shot down before they even reach me!"

"OOOOOOOOOH!" Eugen nearly fell off her chair from laughing so hard.

Meanwhile, Z23 had reached the existential crisis phase of the day. She was holding her head in her hands, mumbling, "I should have defected. I should have defected. I should have defected."

Haguro, on the other hand, had taken a different approach—she was now praying to any deity that would listen.

Eugen, noticing this, casually slung an arm around Haguro’s shoulders. "Sweet, sweet, Haguro. You look tense."

"That’s because I am trapped in a nightmare. Yes, this is definitely a nightmare, a bad one." Haguro muttered without looking up.

"Oh, lighten up." Eugen said, waving her beer bottle in the air. "This is a historic moment. Look at them—two of Japan’s finest carriers, absolutely obliterating each other, both emotionally and intellectually."

Zuikaku groaned. "Please, someone throw me into the ocean."

"Can’t." Eugen grinned. "We're in Indochina. No ocean nearby. Just your profound suffering and besides, you're a ship, you can't drown."

Zuikaku let out a long, pained sigh.

Meanwhile, Kaga and Shoukaku were still at it.

"At least I don’t live in my sister’s shadow." Shoukaku continued, pouring herself another drink. "You're just Akagi’s little pet, following her around like a lost kitten."

Kaga smashed her cup into the table, splinters flying everywhere. "YOU TAKE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW, YOU FLYING TRASHCAN!"

Eugen wheezed. "Oh, that’s rich. 'Flying trashcan?' Kaga, I think you’ve officially run out of good insults."

"She lost her brain cells with her last air raid." Shoukaku added, giggling.

"I will literally fight you right now." Kaga seethed.

"Then DO IT," Shoukaku shouted back.

Eugen clapped excitedly. "Yes, YES! Finally, a catfight! My morning is complete!"

But just as Kaga was about to lunge, Zuikaku finally lost her patience.

"ENOUGH!" She yelled, slamming both hands on the table with such force that the entire room went silent.

Everyone turned to look at her, some slightly impressed.

Zuikaku inhaled deeply, rubbing her temples. "For the love of the Emperor, it is still morning. We are supposed to be preparing for war, and yet here we are—arguing like drunk idiots while the enemy is literally knocking on our doorstep."

A long pause.

Then Eugen grinned. "And?"

Zuikaku snapped. "AND STOP INSTIGATING, YOU GERMAN MENACE!"

Eugen gasped, clutching her chest in mock offense. "Why, Zuikaku! I would never—"

"YOU’VE BEEN POURING FUEL ON THIS FIRE SINCE THE MOMENT YOU WALKED IN!"

Eugen shrugged. "Yes, and it’s been amazing."

Haguro sighed deeply. "I think I need to commit seppuku just to escape this conversation."

Z23, utterly defeated, simply laid her head down on the table. "Wake me up when this nightmare ends."

Meanwhile, Kaga and Shoukaku, still slightly drunk but now slightly guilty, grumbled and looked away from each other like two children caught fighting.

Zuikaku exhaled. "Good. Now, can we please—"

The alarm suddenly blared.

Everyone instantly sobered up.

A messenger from the Navy burst into the room, looking frantic. "We have a situation—Azur Lane’s forces are advancing toward Hainan! Enterprise is leading the assault!"

A deadly silence fell over the room.

Kaga and Shoukaku, still tipsy but now filled with adrenaline, slowly turned toward each other.

"...Truce?" Shoukaku asked.

"...Truce." Kaga muttered.

Eugen sighed dramatically. "Just when it was getting good."

The naval base at Cam Ranh Bay buzzed with activity as sailors and dockworkers scrambled to ready the fleet. The distant roar of engines, the clanking of metal, and the rapid shouting of orders filled the humid air. Amidst this organized chaos, however, an even greater storm brewed—one not of steel or strategy, but of sheer, unfiltered pettiness.

"You better not slow me down, Shoukaku. I’d rather fight Enterprise alone than have you holding me back." Kaga sneered, adjusting her haori as she strode toward the dock.

Shoukaku, walking beside her with an arrogant smirk, scoffed. "Oh, please, Kaga. I should be the one worried about you. I mean, how many times have you been blown up now? Three? Four?"

"I swear to every deity in Shinto, I will strangle you right here, right now."

"Oh? Then go ahead! Try it! But wait, what if your planes get shot down before they reach me?" Shoukaku grinned maliciously.

Prinz Eugen, trailing behind them with a beer still in hand from earlier, cackled. "Ah, this is art. Pure, unrefined art. The First Carrier Division and Fifth Carrier Division tearing each other apart before they even set sail! Beautiful!"

Z23, walking beside her, massaged her temples as if trying to stave off an oncoming aneurysm. "Eugen, stop encouraging them. The Imperial Japanese Army officers are staring."

"Let them stare." Eugen smirked, taking a sip of beer. "What are they gonna do? Arrest me for vibing?"

Meanwhile, Zuikaku, practically dying from second-hand embarrassment, kept her head low, pretending she was not associated with these absolute lunatics. She could feel the stares of the IJA troops and high-ranking officers piercing through her very soul. "I want to disappear." She whispered under her breath.

Haguro, walking just behind them, had completely detached herself from reality. She had tuned everything out, her face an unreadable mask of neutrality. Her mind had transcended suffering. She was dead inside.

"Honestly, if you really wanted to make a difference in this battle, Kaga." Shoukaku continued. "You should just stay here and not get in the way."

Kaga stopped dead in her tracks.

Eugen nearly dropped her beer.

A deathly silence fell over the dock, save for the distant hum of aircraft and the crashing of waves. Several sailors, who had been loading supplies onto the carriers, immediately turned around and walked the other way. A few soldiers near the pier began praying.

Zuikaku froze in sheer horror. "Oh no. Oh no. Ohhh no."

Z23 sighed. "And there it is."

Kaga slowly turned, her blue eyes burning with pure, unfiltered rage. "What did you just say?"

Shoukaku, to her credit, did not back down. She leaned forward, smiling sweetly. "Oh? Did I stutter? Should I say it slower for you, Kaga-Senpai? M-a-y-b-e y-o-u s-h-o-u-l-d s-t-a-y h-e-r-e—"

That was it. That was the moment Cam Ranh Bay nearly became a warzone.

"I AM GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU OVERGLORIFIED WHITE PIGEON!" Kaga lunged.

"BRING IT ON, YOU OBESESSED LITTLE FOX!" Shoukaku charged.

Prinz Eugen screamed with joy. "YES! FIGHT! DESTROY EACH OTHER! ENTERTAIN ME!"

Z23 grabbed Eugen by the collar. "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, STOP ENCOURAGING THIS!"

Zuikaku, finally snapping, forced herself between them and shoved both Kaga and Shoukaku apart. "Enough! If you two want to kill each other, DO IT AFTER WE DEFEAT ENTERPRISE!"

Both carriers panted heavily, glaring at each other, but the fire in their eyes slowly faded.

Kaga clicked her tongue. "Fine. But after this, we’re settling this properly."

Shoukaku smirked. "Looking forward to it."

Eugen, still grinning, leaned toward Z23. "This is the best day of my life."

Z23 was already done with life.

... 

..... 

The skies above Hainan burned with streaks of fire and the deafening roar of engines. Explosions rattled the ground as the Japanese base below was bombarded by Enterprise’s relentless squadrons. Anti-aircraft fire lit up the heavens, desperately trying to swat away the swarm of enemy planes. From the mountain ridges, Chinese troops surged forward, launching a full-scale assault on the embattled Imperial forces. It was war in its purest, most chaotic form.

And yet, despite all of this devastation, the loudest thing on the battlefield…

…was Kaga and Shoukaku screaming at each other.

"SHOUKAKU, STOP FLYING INTO MY LINE OF FIRE, YOU ABSOLUTE IMBECILE!"

"MAYBE IF YOUR AIM WASN'T AS BAD AS YOUR ATTITUDE, WE WOULDN'T HAVE THIS PROBLEM!"

Kaga, in her massive white fox form, bared her teeth and slashed her tails through the air, sending rippling waves of energy at Enterprise, who effortlessly dodged by twisting her Wildcat fighter into a tight corkscrew. The energy beams narrowly missed Shoukaku, who had to veer off course in her crane form to avoid getting obliterated.

"OH FOR KAMI'S SAKE, KAGA!" Shoukaku shrieked as she hopped onto the wings of her own fighter, gliding over the battlefield with ease.

Enterprise, still flying as if she were surfing through the sky, sighed. She checked the situation below—Hornet was holding off Zuikaku well enough, the ground forces were pushing forward, and the Japanese fleet was scrambling to respond. Everything was going smoothly.

Except for the ear-splitting argument happening in the middle of an aerial dogfight.

Kaga hurled another barrage of energy at Enterprise while screaming at Shoukaku.

"YOU'RE IN MY GODDAMN WAY, SHOUKAKU!"

Shoukaku banked hard to avoid another strike. "AND YOU'RE IN MINE!"

Enterprise finally had enough.

She stalled midair, let Kaga’s attacks pass through the empty space she had just occupied, and then snapped forward in an instant, appearing between the two of them.

With a voice that could shatter glass, she roared—

"YOU GUYS ARE SO GOD FUCKING DAMN LOUD! CAN’T WE FIGHT WITH MORE SILENCE AND MORE ACTION?!"

Everything stopped for half a second.

Even Kaga and Shoukaku were stunned into silence, blinking at Enterprise as if she had just personally offended their ancestors.

Zuikaku, dodging a hailstorm of machine-gun fire from Hornet, hastily shouted an apology. "I'M SO SORRY, GREY GHOST-SAN!"

Hornet, who had been equally sick of the nonsense, finally snapped too. "OH THANK FUCKING GOD, IT'S NOT JUST ME! THESE TWO HAVEN'T SHUT UP SINCE THEY GOT HERE! LIKE, CALM THE FUCK DOWN WILL YA?!"

Prinz Eugen, watching from the fleet below while sipping on another stolen beer, cackled into the radio. "This is the most entertaining battle I’ve ever seen."

Z23, from the deck of a her own hull, was contemplating jumping into the ocean.

The battle over Hainan escalated from intense naval warfare into a goddamn circus show in the sky.

Enterprise’s outburst did nothing to stop the madness—if anything, it fueled it.

Shoukaku, instead of backing down, doubled down. "Oh, so now even our enemies are complaining about you, Kaga-senpai? Typical."

Kaga, radiating unholy rage, snapped her tails like whips, sending another devastating energy beam toward Enterprise, but at the last second, it veered off course—

And nearly blew Shoukaku out of the sky.

"ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME, YOU FOX-FUR COAT WEARING BITCH?!"

"MAYBE I AM!"

Hornet, watching this disaster unfold while ducking and weaving through Zuikaku's relentless attacks, screamed into the radio:

"ENTERPRISE, WHAT THE FUCK IS EVEN HAPPENING?!"

Enterprise, dodging Kaga’s half-assed, rage-fueled attacks, groaned as she adjusted her flight path. "I don’t know, I don’t care, I just want them to shut the hell up. My head is hurting."

But that was not happening.

Kaga swung her tails downward, summoning a massive storm of fighter planes, launching them at random, because at this point, even she didn’t care who got hit.

One squadron nearly crashed into Shoukaku.

Shoukaku retaliated by launching a suicidal dive-bombing run at Kaga.

"FUCKING MOVE, SHOUKAKU!"

"NO, YOU MOVE!"

They nearly collided midair, forcing Enterprise to physically yank her Wildcat out of the way before she got dragged into their stupidity.

Below, Prinz Eugen was crying from laughter. "Oh, mein Gott, this is the best thing I’ve ever seen. Keep going, keep going!"

"SHUT UP, EUGEN!" Zuikaku shrieked, while still trying to kill Hornet.

Hornet, by now, was just as unhinged as the rest of them.

She stomped on her Hellcat’s fuselage, flew alongside Zuikaku, and shouted: "I'LL PAY YOU TEN DOLLARS IF YOU SLAP YOUR SENPAI OUT OF THE SKY RIGHT NOW."

Zuikaku, to her own horror, actually considered it.

Meanwhile, Z23 was completely done with life. She had given up on trying to maintain any semblance of professionalism and was now aggressively chugging the rest of Eugen’s beer.

"I CAN’T DO THIS. I CAN’T BE SEEN WITH YOU PEOPLE."

Back in the sky, Enterprise—now completely tired of this bullshit anime episode she was forced to be a part of—grabbed the nearest radio channel and screamed:

"CAN SOMEONE JUST SHOOT SOMEONE ALREADY?!"

At that moment—

A hypersonic missile suddenly screamed through the sky at Mach Jesus, heading straight for Kaga.

Everything went dead silent.

Even Shoukaku shut up.

Kaga, still a giant angry fox, turned her head—

"Oh, son of a—"

BOOOOOOOM!

The explosion lit up the entire fucking battlefield like it was New Year's Eve in hell.

Hornet, stunned, slowly turned to Enterprise.

"Uh. Is that from Zumwalt?."

Enterprise stared at the wreckage, then at the incoming enemy forces, then at the chaos surrounding her.

Then, finally—she sighed.

"Goddammit, Zum, I was just kidding."

As Enterprise and Hornet start veered away, their fighters peeling off to regroup, Hornet couldn't resist one last act of defiance.

She spun her Hellcat mid-air, aimed it at the still-smoking battlefield below, and flipped the biggest, most obnoxious middle finger imaginable.

"SEE YOU LATER, SHITHEADS!" She howled, before gunning her engine and racing after Enterprise.

Zuikaku, still trying to process what just happened, screamed in rage:

"GET BACK HERE AND FIGHT, YOU COWARDS!"

Prinz Eugen, who was still on the floor, wheezing from laughter, barely lifted her head. "Mein Gott… I love that woman. Can I get her address?"

Meanwhile, Kaga—or what was left of her pride—was trying to pull herself together.

The hypersonic missile had hit her like a divine punishment for all her arrogance, leaving her fur singed and her energy completely drained. She staggered mid-air, her tails flickering, before collapsing onto the deck of a nearby destroyer.

Shoukaku, for once in her life, felt actual concern.

"Kaga-senpai? Oi, Kaga-senpai, are you alive?"

A long, miserable groan was the only response.

Shoukaku sighed. "Goddammit, of course she is."

Zuikaku landed next to her, arms crossed, fuming. "I CAN’T BELIEVE THEY GOT AWAY. I WANTED TO SLAP THAT STUPID LOOK OFF HORN—"

But before she could finish, Kaga, still half-dead, croaked out the most miserable, defeated phrase imaginable:

"やれやれだぜ..."

Everyone stared at her.

Prinz Eugen, having recovered enough to fully appreciate the drama, gasped in delight. "Ooooh, she’s in her depressed arc now! I love it!"

Z23, who was already on her seventh beer, threw the empty bottle overboard and groaned. "God, I hate all of you."

Haguro, still trying to keep whatever was left of her sanity intact, simply sighed and turned to the horizon. "We should prepare for the counterattack."

And so, with Kaga literally smoking from battle, Shoukaku still seething, Zuikaku grumbling, and Eugen still laughing her ass off, the battered fleet began their long, embarrassing journey back to base.

..... 

........ 

Kure Naval Base. 

The air was crisp with the scent of the sea, mingling with the faint fragrance of sakura petals that fluttered down from the great tree outside the shrine. Despite the slight overcast sky, the afternoon carried an air of quiet serenity, a stark contrast to the war-torn world beyond Kure Naval Base and other Japan mainland.

Inside the grand Shinto shrine, built to honor the spirits of the sea and the warriors who served beneath its waves, Yamato sat in quiet contemplation. The gentle clink of porcelain echoed as she set down her tea cup, her golden-brown eyes reflecting the flickering light of a nearby lantern. The sight of her, clad in an immaculate white and red miko outfit modified to fit her divine presence, would be enough to steal the breath of any man. Yet, despite her ethereal beauty, her expression held an uncharacteristic shadow of worry.

Her fox-like tails, nine in total, twitched slightly in unease. The fur was impeccably groomed, their soft sheen catching the dim light, but the agitation beneath the surface could not be hidden. The shrine was a place of peace, yet Yamato’s heart was far from at ease.

Across from her stood another striking figure, Fusou, a woman of regal grace draped in a flowing black kimono that parted just slightly at the collar. Long, silky black hair cascaded down her back, feline-like ears flicking at the faint sounds beyond the shrine. Unlike Yamato, whose presence exuded warmth and curiosity, Fusou carried an air of cool, quiet strength, like the still waters of a moonlit bay.

Fusou, the elder sister of the ill-fated Fusou-class battleships, had always been known for her wisdom and kindness. She regarded Yamato with a knowing gaze, understanding the burden weighing upon the younger battleship’s heart.

"Fusou-san, is there still no news from Gūji Nagato?" Yamato’s voice was soft, yet there was a firm resolve beneath the delicate tone.

Fusou exhaled quietly, setting aside her own untouched tea. "Nothing yet, Yamato-sama. We have been trying to contact the Minister of the Navy, but so far, there has been no response." She hesitated for a moment before leaning in slightly, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "But… this is just between us. I have heard whispers that at Gūji-sama’s last known location, Enterprise and the Azur Lane main fleet have been sighted."

Yamato’s golden eyes widened slightly. Enterprise… The legendary carrier, the so-called Gray Ghost of the seas. Even before the war with the Allies began, Enterprise’s name had already become legend—one of the greatest warriors to ever sail the oceans, a relentless reaper of the Sirens.

"The Gray Ghost…" Yamato repeated softly, her tails swaying as she processed the information. "The legend who sank and destroyed so many Sirens before this war even began…"

Her voice trailed off as a chill ran through her. She had read the reports, the stories passed down from those who had witnessed Enterprise in battle firsthand. They spoke of an unyielding force, a warrior whose fury knew no equal on the battlefield. A shipgirl who defied fate itself.

Yamato turned her gaze back to Fusou, her expression shifting from curiosity to something more solemn. "What is your opinion of her?"

Fusou considered her words carefully before answering. "I do not know her personally, nor have I ever stood alongside her in battle. But from what I have heard, she is a fearsome warrior, one who shows no mercy to her enemies. She is a symbol of America’s strength, a ghost that haunts those who cross her path."

Yamato felt an odd sense of admiration—and perhaps a sliver of apprehension. If Enterprise was truly there, then Nagato might not be safe. Or perhaps, she was safe, at least from the worst fates that could befall her at the hands of Japan’s own leadership.

The Imperial Japanese Navy was walking a dangerous path. More and more, they were falling into the Sirens’ grasp, adopting their technology in the desperate pursuit of power. Yamato had fought tirelessly to keep such corruption from reaching Kure, from poisoning Hiroshima, but every day the pressure mounted. The admirals, the ministers, the politicians—they all sought to break her resolve, to make her accept the forbidden gifts of the Sirens.

But she would not yield.

Still, as much as she resisted, she was not in a position of true power—at least, not yet. She was meant to be the flagship, the future symbol of the IJN’s might. But for now, she was little more than an icon, a figurehead burdened with expectations and weighed down by unseen chains.

Her hand curled slightly against her lap. If I were stronger… if I had more influence, Nagato would not have been sent away. She would not have been paraded around that little hellhole in Indochina.

Yamato let out a slow breath, composing herself once more. "Enterprise… I wonder what kind of person she truly is." She murmured.

Fusou smiled faintly, a knowing look in her gentle eyes. "Perhaps you will find out soon enough."

Outside, the sakura tree swayed in the winter breeze, its delicate petals drifting through the air. A quiet omen, a fleeting beauty in a world teetering on the edge of chaos.

Fusou’s gaze drifted as she continued, her voice calm yet tinged with something Yamato couldn’t quite place—respect, perhaps, or the lingering weight of witnessing history unfold from afar.

"She is not merely a legend, Yamato-sama." Fusou murmured, her fingers tracing the rim of her untouched tea cup. "She is a force of nature, something beyond what words can truly capture."

Yamato tilted her head slightly, listening intently.

"You’ve heard of the 1937 Sea of Japan Incident, haven’t you?"

Yamato gave a small nod. The name was familiar, of course. It was one of the bloodiest battles between humanity and the Sirens before the current war erupted, a battle that had nearly resulted in disaster had it not been for…

"Enterprise." Fusou confirmed, as if reading Yamato’s thoughts.

She exhaled softly before continuing. "It was a cold night, the kind where the sea itself seemed to freeze beneath the moonlight. A hundred Siren mass-produced ships and shipgirls, maybe more, moving as one toward Tokyo Bay. At the time, there were only a handful of American Shipgirls stationed there as diplomatic envoys. Among them… was Enterprise."

Yamato remained silent, her ears twitching slightly at the way Fusou spoke the carrier’s name—not with fear, but with a quiet reverence.

"She didn’t hesitate." Fusou continued, her voice dropping just slightly. "The moment the alarm rang, she was already moving. The others had barely grasped the situation before she was sprinting towards the sea, launching her planes before her feet had even left the shore."

Yamato closed her eyes for a moment, picturing it in her mind. A lone carrier, standing at the edge of the dark waters, sending her steel birds screaming into the night.

"She tore through them." Fusou said, a distant look in her eyes. "Not just the mass-produced Siren ships, but their Shipgirls as well. And she did it alone."

Yamato’s brows furrowed slightly. "Alone?"

Fusou nodded. "Alone."

Her voice was steady, but there was an unspoken heaviness behind it. "Her planes hunted them like wolves. Torpedoes struck with inhuman precision. Bombs cracked through Siren armor as if it were nothing but paper. The first to fall were the vanguard ships, their hulls ruptured before they even realized they were under attack. Then the Shipgirls… Those who tried to resist—those who tried to fight her—were torn apart, limb from limb."

A chill ran through Yamato’s spine, her tails curling slightly. The way Fusou described it was almost unnatural. Enterprise had always been known for her skill in battle, but…

"She did not stop." Fusou continued, glancing down at her tea, though it was clear her mind was still in that moment. "Even as the ocean burned, even as Sirens screamed and fell beneath the waves, she did not stop until not a single enemy remained. The sea itself was littered with wreckage, and when the battle was over…"

She hesitated for just a moment.

"…When the battle was over, she simply stood there. Watching. Waiting. As if she expected more."

Yamato swallowed. "And the others?"

Fusou shook her head. "By the time they arrived, there was nothing left for them to do. Enterprise had already ended it."

Silence stretched between them, the faint rustling of the sakura tree outside the only sound that remained.

"…That is one of the most famous battles she has ever fought." Fusou said finally, her voice quiet. "A testament to what she is."

Yamato exhaled slowly, processing what she had just heard. She had always known Enterprise was a warrior unlike any other, but this… this was something else entirely.

A lone carrier, standing against an armada. And winning.

"She is terrifying." Yamato admitted, the words slipping from her lips before she could stop them.

Fusou offered a small, knowing smile. "She is. But she is also why Tokyo Bay still stands."

Yamato lowered her gaze, the weight of Fusou’s words settling deep within her. If Enterprise was there, at Nagato’s last known location, then perhaps…

Perhaps Nagato was not safe than she thought.

A heavy silence settled over the shrine as Yamato stared into her tea, the reflection of the sakura tree swaying gently in the surface. The thought had lingered in her mind for some time now, but only now did it fully take shape.

How could Japan have messed this up so badly?

She clenched her hands into fists, her long sleeves covering the motion. It was infuriating, really. The Empire had seen firsthand what the Sirens were capable of. The bombardments along the coastline, the disappearances of entire fleets, the inhuman cruelty with which they turned war into a twisted game. And yet, despite everything, Japan had chosen to align itself with them.

A mistake. A terrible, irreversible mistake.

She turned her gaze back to Fusou, who seemed hesitant, as if weighing whether or not to say what was on her mind. But eventually, she sighed and spoke.

"It was Akagi." She admitted quietly. "She was the first to bring the idea to the discussion table between the branches."

Yamato’s expression darkened.

"Akagi…" She whispered.

Fusou nodded, her tails swishing slightly behind her. "Her ambition has always been great. She saw the Sirens as an opportunity, a force beyond human understanding that could be controlled, harnessed. And the Empire… with its thirst for power, its desperate need to rise above the West, to dominate the seas… They listened."

Yamato closed her eyes, willing away the frustration building in her chest. She had been powerless to stop it. No, in fact, she can't do jack shit. Akagi had spoken with such certainty, such conviction, that the military and political elites had eaten up every word. The promise of power, of technology beyond anything humanity had ever dreamed of… It had been too tempting.

And so, Japan had turned its back on Azur Lane. On humanity itself.

Yamato exhaled sharply. "I would have rather called them allies."

Fusou blinked. "Azur Lane?"

"Yes." Yamato looked up, her golden brown eyes filled with quiet regret. "The powerhouses of the seas. The legends of war. Enterprise, Warspite, Hood, Colorado… So many great warriors, so many names I could have stood beside, fought beside, learned from."

She gave a bitter smile. "Instead, fate has placed us on opposite sides of this war."

Fusou’s ears twitched, sensing the pain behind Yamato’s words. It was rare to see her openly express such feelings, but it was clear how deeply this weighed on her.

"I wonder." Yamato murmured. "What kind of future we could have built had we not let our arrogance blind us."

Fusou hesitated for a moment before responding. "Perhaps one where you would not be fighting with the weight of an entire empire on your shoulders."

Yamato could only sigh. The world had already chosen its path. War had erupted, and Japan had dragged America into it.

All she could do now… was pray.

... 

..... 

Zumwalt’s Galley, Hong Kong. 

December 28, Midnight. 

The soft hum of the ship’s systems provided a backdrop to the dimly lit galley, where five shipgirls sat around a table cluttered with empty glasses and half-finished plates of rations. The tension in the room was thick, hanging over them like the fog that rolled in from the harbor outside.

Zumwalt stood near the table, arms crossed, her sharp emerald eyes shifting between Enterprise and Hornet, both sprawled on the settee. She wasn’t sure if she should be amused or disappointed. Lexington sat beside her, her usual warm demeanor replaced with a stern expression, while Geo leaned against the counter, watching with a raised brow and an amused smirk.

"So…" Geo spoke, her tone teasing but edged with curiosity. "Can someone give me the full context of what exactly happened? Because from where I’m standing, this looks like a hangover waiting to happen."

Zumwalt sighed and ran a hand through her short blonde hair. "Apparently, the two of them got frustrated with the previous battle, and Hornet—being Hornet—decided she wanted to ‘teach Kaga and Shoukaku a lesson’ for being too loud."

Enterprise groaned, pressing her fingers to her temple. "I argue a lot, sure, but I’ve never done anything this unprofessional. What the hell were they thinking?"

Hornet, sitting opposite her, lazily spun the bottle of Jack Daniel’s she had swiped from Zumwalt’s fridge. Her twintails were undone, her blonde hair hanging loose over her shoulders. "They’re probably drunk, Enty. Or just plain stupid." She took a sip, then added with a smirk. "I mean, at least we’re smart about it."

Zumwalt narrowed her eyes at Hornet and crossed her arms. "I’d love to know how exactly you managed to break into my personal fridge."

Hornet winked. "Trade secret."

Lexington, who had been quietly watching, finally exhaled. She was usually the heart of the fleet, the one who kept the mood light and playful. But right now, her expression had darkened into something serious, her usual idol-like aura replaced by a commanding presence.

"The important thing." Lexington said, her voice firm. "is that both of you cut it out. Enty, Hornet, this kind of reckless talk doesn’t do anyone any good. We won tactically, and we’re still standing. Even Zumwalt here put another dent in Kaga’s pride with her hypersonic missile. That’s enough.”

Her tone was enough to make both Enterprise and Hornet sit up a little straighter. They might have been powerful warriors, legendary in their own right, but they still respected their senior. And they knew from experience that Lexington’s anger, while rare, was something no one wanted to provoke.

Geo let out a low whistle, arms still crossed. "Damn. ‘Big Sis Lex’ going full senior officer mode. You love to see it.'

Lexington shot her a sharp look, but Geo just grinned, unfazed.

Enterprise sighed, rubbing her temples. "I get it, Lex. I really do. I just… I hate how we let them slip through our fingers again." Her voice softened at the end, frustration bleeding into exhaustion.

Zumwalt placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "We’ll get them next time." Her voice was calm, steady. 

Hornet stretched, placing the bottle back on the table. "Yeah, yeah. We’ll get them next time. And when we do, I’m making sure Kaga doesn’t walk away without a scratch."

Lexington rolled her eyes but let out a small chuckle. "Just don’t do anything reckless, okay?"

Hornet smirked. "No promises."

Geo shook her head. "Alright, well, now that we’ve settled that, I’m confiscating the rest of that whiskey before Hornet decides to challenge Kaga to a duel while drunk." She grabbed the bottle from the table before Hornet could protest.

Zumwalt sighed but allowed herself a small smile. Even with all the chaos, these moments of camaraderie were what held them together.

And no matter how many battles lay ahead, she knew one thing for certain—this fleet, this family, would always have each other’s backs.

Hornet leaned back in her seat, arms crossed, a wicked smirk plastered across her face as she watched Geo confiscate the whiskey. "Tch. Figures." She muttered, shaking her head dramatically. "I should’ve known you wouldn’t have the guts to go head-to-head with me in a drinking match."

Geo paused mid-motion, eyebrow twitching. "What?"

"Oh, you heard me." Hornet’s smirk widened. "All that talk, all that confidence, but when it comes down to it, you’re scared to lose to lil' ol' me."

Geo’s eye twitched again. "Scared?" She turned, placing the whiskey bottle back on the table with a thunk. "Listen here, you blonde menace—"

"Blonde menace? That the best you got?" Hornet laughed, standing up and leaning across the table toward her. "Face it, big gal, you just know you can’t outdrink me. So why don’t you just run along and—"

That was it. That was the moment Geo snapped.

Without a word, she turned, marched over to a storage locker, and yanked it open. With the strength of an enraged battleship, she pulled out an entire crate of beer, then another, slamming them down onto the table with enough force to shake the galley. "Alright, you pint-sized cowgirl, you wanna do this? Fine. But don’t start crying when you’re passed out under the table."

Hornet grinned like a fox in a henhouse. "Ohhh, now that’s more like it." She cracked her knuckles and grabbed a can.

Lexington groaned loudly, rubbing her temples as if she could physically massage away the sheer stupidity unfolding in front of her. "Why. Why are we like this."

Meanwhile, Zumwalt, ever the responsible one, wordlessly walked over to a supply cabinet, grabbed two large trash cans, and slid them over next to the soon-to-be idiots. Then she grabbed a bottle of aspirin and placed it on the table, all with the defeated grace of someone who had seen this coming and had long since given up trying to stop it.

Enterprise, unfortunately, found herself dragged into the chaos when Hornet shoved a bottle into her hands. "Congrats, Enty, you’re the judge!"

"What? Why me?!"

"Because I said so!"

And with that, the match began.

Hornet popped open a beer and chugged it like it was water, slamming the empty can down in seconds. Geo followed, matching her pace with a smirk.

"So, Geo." Hornet drawled, leaning an elbow on the table. "You sure you can handle this? Wouldn’t want you keeling over ‘cause your hull’s too damn big and heavy to keep up."

Geo wiped her mouth, chuckling darkly. "Oh, that’s cute. Coming from someone whose outfit is so damn skimpy it could give an entire retirement home a collective heart attack."

Lexington choked on her drink. "WHAT—"

Hornet cackled. "Ohhh, is that jealousy I hear? Hate to break it to you, big gal, but some of us have the confidence to pull it off."

"Confidence?" Geo took another long sip, then pointed at her with the can. "Nah, I think you just got too much wind resistance. Maybe that’s why you’re lagging behind in this match."

Hornet gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. "Oh no! A speed insult? How original! Come on, Geo, I expected better from you!"

Zumwalt, watching this play out, just shook her head. "We’re all going to regret this tomorrow."

Somehow, in the span of ten minutes, the madness had attracted an audience.

Javelin, San Diego, San Francisco, and Laffey had all wandered in, drawn by the sound of escalating nonsense. Upon realizing what was happening, San Francisco—of course—set up a betting table right then and there.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen!" San Francisco declared, clapping her hands together. "Place your bets! Who’s gonna be the last one standing?"

Javelin giggled. "I-I bet on Hornet! She’s got that American cowboy energy!"

San Diego grinned. "I dunno, Geo’s got the build of a tank!"

Laffey yawned. "Mmm… I bet they both pass out at the same time… but I’ll put my money on whoever is still awake enough to say ‘Laffey is the best’ at the end."

Lexington, finally reaching her limit, stormed over and bonked San Francisco over the head. "Stop encouraging them, you absolute menace!"

San Francisco just laughed.

Meanwhile, Enterprise was still sitting at the table, head in her hands. "I didn’t sign up for this."

Zumwalt, standing beside her, patted her back. "None of us did."

By the sixth round, things had officially gone off the rails.

Hornet was sitting sideways in her chair, giggling uncontrollably. "Y’know, Geo… yer not so bad… for a big dumb supercarrier…"

Geo, slightly red-faced but still holding strong, pointed a dramatic finger at her. "And you’re not so bad… for a reckless bikini-wearing maniac!"

Hornet gasped. "B-BIKINI-WEARING MANIAC?! HOW DARE—" She tried to stand up but immediately wobbled, nearly toppling over before Enterprise caught her.

Enterprise sighed. "Okay, that’s it. I declare this match over."

Hornet whined. "But I was winning!"

"You were about to fall on your face."

"Winning." She repeated stubbornly.

Geo groaned, leaning back in her chair. "Fine, whatever. Call it a draw. I ain’t drinkin’ anymore unless someone forces me."

Zumwalt nodded approvingly. "Smartest thing anyone’s said all night."

Lexington sighed, finally feeling like the madness was coming to an end—

Until Hornet, ever the agent of chaos, grinned wide and slurred, "Round two, tomorrow night?"

Geo, to everyone’s horror, grinned right back. "You're on."

Lexington let out the longest groan of her life.

The following morning, in the galley of the Zumwalt, two very hungover shipgirls found themselves kneeling in the corner of the room, heads bowed like children caught stealing cookies from the mess hall.

Geo and Hornet sat side by side, their expressions filled with regret and the lingering effects of too much alcohol. Above them, looming like the wrath of God, stood Lexington. And she was not pleased.

"—AS MEMBERS OF THE UNITED STATES NAVY, YOU ARE EXPECTED TO UPHOLD DISCIPLINE, DECORUM, AND A SENSE OF DUTY!" Lexington's voice was rapid-fire, her words coming out as fast as an MG-34 unloading downrange during the Battle of France. "BUT WHAT DO I FIND? TWO IRRESPONSIBLE, RECKLESS, UTTERLY DISGRACEFUL SHIPGIRLS GETTING INTO A DRINKING CONTEST LIKE SOME COMMON BARBARIANS!"

Geo, despite the throbbing pain in her head, mumbled, "Technically, I’m a supercarrier—"

SMACK!

Lexington’s sandal connected with the back of her head like a precision-guided missile. "SILENCE."

Hornet, slumped against the wall, let out a pained chuckle. "Hah… geez, Big Sis Lex, you're really goin' all out—"

WHACK!

Lexington whirled on her next target, slapping Hornet’s shoulder with her sandal. "And YOU! You started this whole mess!"

"I won this whole mess." Hornet muttered under her breath.

Lexington’s eyes glowed ominously. "What was that?"

"N-Nothing, ma'am!"

By this point, Enterprise and Zumwalt—having no interest in being dragged into Lexington’s Navy Code lecture—decided to quietly step away and engage in a more productive conversation at the opposite end of the room.

Enterprise sighed, stretching her arms and trying to shake off the residual stress from last night’s events. "You know… I knew Hornet was a troublemaker, but Geo? Didn’t think she’d get sucked into her nonsense so easily."

Zumwalt chuckled as she poured herself a cup of tea. "Honestly? I did see it coming. She’s got that whole ‘sarcastic big sister’ thing going on, but deep down, she’s competitive. The moment Hornet taunted her, there was no way she’d back down."

Enterprise smirked slightly. "Yeah, I guess you’re right. She can’t stand being outdone, even in dumb competitions." She took a sip of her own drink before adding, "Anyway, let’s talk about something other than last night’s disaster. What do you do in your free time, Zum?"

Zumwalt tilted her head. "Me? Well, I actually really enjoy arts and crafts. Things like model-building, wood carving, even knitting. It gives me a sense of serenity. There’s something peaceful about creating something with your own hands."

Enterprise raised an eyebrow. "Wait, really? That’s… kind of unexpected. I thought you'd be more into high-tech stuff, considering, well… you’re you."

Zumwalt shrugged. "I deal with high-tech all the time. It’s nice to unplug and do something simple. Something that doesn’t involve missiles, railguns, or cloaking devices."

Enterprise chuckled. "Fair enough. For me, I like arcade games. Especially old-school ones. The fast-paced action, the challenge of high scores… it’s weirdly satisfying."

Zumwalt blinked. "I… actually didn’t see that coming. You always seem so serious. I thought you’d be more into, I don’t know, military strategy simulators."

Enterprise smiled slightly. "I do play those too, but they’re work. When I just want to relax, I like something fun and chaotic. Plus, role-playing games let me be someone else for a while, y’know? It’s a nice break from reality."

Zumwalt nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense. Maybe I should try them sometime."

Enterprise smirked. "Only if you’re ready to get wrecked in a fighting game."

Zumwalt laughed softly. "I accept that challenge… after I finish dealing with those two." She nodded towards the corner, where Lexington was still giving her rapid-fire lecture while Geo and Hornet looked like they were about to die from sheer mental exhaustion.

Enterprise sighed. "Yeah… we should probably save them soon. Before Lexington gives them actual homework."

Zumwalt sipped her tea. "Give it five more minutes. They deserve this."

Enterprise grinned. "You know what? You’re right."

As Lexington continued her verbal onslaught in the background, Enterprise leaned forward, her eyes practically glowing with enthusiasm.

"You ever watch baseball, Zum?"

Zumwalt blinked. "Not really. I know the basics, but I’ve never really followed a team."

Enterprise gasped as if Zumwalt had just confessed to a heinous crime. "What? Zum, you have to get into baseball. It’s America’s pastime!"

Zumwalt chuckled. "Alright, alright, sell me on it. Who’s your favorite team?"

Enterprise’s expression turned downright nerdy as she pulled something from a small pouch attached to her uniform—a baseball, scuffed and slightly yellowed with age. But the real eye-catcher was the signature scrawled across it in bold ink.

Zumwalt squinted. "... Wait. Is that—?"

Enterprise grinned. "Damn right it is. This is an original, signed ball from one of the New York Yankees’ best players, Babe Ruth." She held it up with reverence. "This guy was a legend."

Zumwalt raised an eyebrow. "You really are a baseball nerd, huh?"

Enterprise smirked. "Damn right I am."

Zumwalt chuckled, then decided to return the favor. "Well, I might not be into baseball, but I love American football. And soccer. The strategy, the teamwork—it’s just as thrilling in its own way."

Enterprise leaned back, arms crossed. "Okay, I’ll bite. Sell me on that."

Zumwalt’s eyes gleamed as she reached into her jacket, pulling out a sleek storage device. "I brought some recorded matches from the future. You ever want to see how the game evolves over the decades, I’ve got high-definition footage of championship matches."

Enterprise’s curiosity was piqued. "You serious? You got future NFL Championship games in there?"

Zumwalt smirked. "And World Cup finals."

Enterprise whistled. "Okay, now that I gotta see. I’ll make time for it, even if my schedule is a mess."

Zumwalt laughed. "I’ll hold you to that."

The conversation naturally drifted into a more serious tone. Zumwalt took a deep breath, her expression shifting.

"…Enterprise."

Enterprise looked up. "Hm?"

Zumwalt hesitated for a moment before asking. "What do you think happens to us after this war ends? When we’re… no longer needed?"

Enterprise was silent for a few seconds, staring down at her baseball. Then, to Zumwalt’s surprise, she let out a soft chuckle.

"I already know what I want." Enterprise admitted. "When the war’s over, I want to retire. Move somewhere quiet—maybe the countryside. Get laid. Have kids, preferably four or five. Grow old. Be forgotten."

Zumwalt’s eyebrows shot up. "Be forgotten?"

Enterprise nodded, a soft smile on her lips. "Yeah. Think about it—war heroes don’t last forever. The world moves on. People will stop talking about us one day. And that’s fine. That’s how it should be."

Zumwalt studied her for a moment. "You’ve really thought about this, huh?"

Enterprise exhaled, rolling the baseball between her fingers. "A long time ago. I even picked out a name for when I retire."

Zumwalt tilted her head. "A name?"

Enterprise nodded. "Something normal. Something that won’t remind me of battle, or war, or fighting. Just… a name a mother would have. Maybe something like Emily or Charlotte. Something simple."

Zumwalt was quiet for a moment, then gave a small smile. "That actually sounds really nice."

Enterprise smirked. "Yeah. Just need to survive long enough to make it happen."

Zumwalt chuckled. "Then we better make damn sure you do."

The two sat in silence for a moment, the distant sounds of Lexington’s continued scolding echoing in the background. But for once, Enterprise didn’t mind.

... 

..... 

The dark December sky stretched endlessly over the snow-covered Norwegian landscape as Sheffield and Edinburgh pressed forward in their car. The chill seeped into the metal frame, and despite the heater humming softly, Edinburgh shivered under her coat.

"Remind me again, Sheffy—why are we the ones doin' this mission instead of someone more… I dunno, suited for espionage?" Edinburgh muttered, pulling her coat tighter.

"Because the Head Maid wanted a pair of ‘neutral diplomats’ who wouldn't attract suspicion. Besides, we’re the best fit for the job." Sheffield replied, her hands steady on the wheel. Her voice was as calm as ever, but there was an undertone of tension, the kind that never left a battlefield veteran.

"Aye, but Swedish diplomats? We dinnae even look Swedish!" Edinburgh protested.

"And yet, here we are, still breathing." Sheffield countered dryly, her eyes scanning the road. "So we must be doing something right."

Edinburgh huffed but let it go. The landscape rushed past them, snowy hills giving way to dark forests. The roads, though slick with ice, were well-maintained—one of the few advantages of Norway's occupation.

The conversation turned back to their mission.

"So... Bismarck's going after an American shipgirls? And Tirpitz was the one who warned us?" Edinburgh mused, tapping her fingers against the dashboard.

Sheffield nodded. "That's what our sources say. The Kriegsmarine's up to something big, and if Bismarck's personally involved, it can't be good. Tirpitz seemed concerned enough to leak this intel to us, but why?"

Edinburgh pursed her lips. "Maybe she's got a soft spot for her big sister?"

"Possibly." Sheffield's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, checking for tails. So far, so good. "Or maybe she sees where this war is heading and doesn’t like it."

They fell into silence, each lost in thought as they approached their destination.

The road twisted through frozen valleys before finally opening up to a breathtaking, yet ominous sight. The fjord stretched before them, deep and dark, its surface smooth like polished obsidian. And there, in the heart of the icy waters, was the Norwegen Fleet—Kriegsmarine's northern stronghold.

Tirpitz stood at the center of the formation, her massive frame casting an imposing shadow over the smaller warships. A floating fortress, bristling with firepower. Despite the war, despite the cold isolation of the Norwegian fjords, she remained a titan of steel.

"Bloody hell, she's big." Edinburgh breathed in awe.

"Aye." Sheffield murmured, gripping the wheel tighter. "If this goes south, we won't have a way out."

"Oh, don't be a party pooper." Edinburgh grumbled. "We're just here for a chat, right? It's no' like we're here to sink her or something."

Sheffield didn't answer immediately. The truth was, she didn't know what was waiting for them. Tirpitz reaching out to them was strange enough. Trusting her? That was something else entirely.

She turned off the engine, letting the silence settle. The only sound was the faint creaking of ice and the distant hum of engines from the ships ahead.

"Alright, let's get this over with." Sheffield said, stepping out into the frigid air.

Edinburgh followed, rubbing her hands together. "Aye, let's hope she’s in a good mood."

As they approached the docks, the looming form of her ship is terrifying. 

As Sheffield and Edinburgh stepped onto the Base, the biting wind cut through them like a blade. The fjord was silent but not lifeless—Kriegsmarine warships loomed over the waters like steel leviathans, their hulls gleaming under the pale winter sun.

Several Heer soldiers in gray winter coats greeted them, their expressions unreadable beneath their helmets. The ranking officer, a tall man with a scar running down his cheek, gave a short nod.

"This way, meine Damen." He said, motioning for them to follow.

Sheffield and Edinburgh exchanged glances before stepping in line, their boots crunching against the frost-laden ground. The base was a hive of activity—Kriegsmarine sailors rushed about their duties, engineers worked on maintenance, and dockworkers hauled supplies across the piers. But what caught Edinburgh’s eye were the other figures mingling among them.

German shipgirls.

They were everywhere—laughing, playing, even sparring with Wehrmacht soldiers as if they were old comrades. A group of them sat on crates, sharing beer and jokes with some Kriegsmarine sailors, their mechanical riggings clinking as they moved.

"Ack, it almost feels like Portsmouth or Scapa Flow." Edinburgh whispered under her breath. "Never thought I'd see shipgirls an’ humans get along like this on this side o' the war."

Sheffield didn’t respond, but she took note of it too. Despite the war raging across Europe, despite the brutal campaigns waged by the Reich, here in Norway, the camaraderie between man and warship was undeniable.

The soldiers led them deeper into the base, past bunkers and barracks, until they reached a large, reinforced building—Tirpitz’s command center. The guards at the door snapped to attention and opened the heavy steel doors, allowing them inside.

The room they entered was surprisingly warm, a stark contrast to the freezing air outside. A grand oak desk stood near a window overlooking the fjord, and behind it sat the Eisprinzessin herself—Tirpitz, the Queen of the North.