Fox Mansion
At the balcony of the Fox Mansion, Kaga sat quietly upon a tatami mat, her gaze fixed on the Koi Fish gliding gently through the pond below. Their slow, graceful movements reflected a serenity she could no longer feel.
Sadness lingered on her usually stoic features, draining her of the dignity and calm she once carried with pride. Each passing day within the mansion only seemed to deepen her disconnection from reality, as though the world outside had begun to slip away.
From behind the sliding doors came the faint sound of slow, deliberate footsteps accompanied by hushed voices. Kaga's ear twitched slightly at the disturbance, though she did not turn her head. She recognized the voices.
"You shouldn't bother yourself with this matter. I can handle it on my own," Zuikaku said, her tone firm yet laced with concern.
Walking beside her, JS Izumo replied with calm composure, his voice steady, carrying the weight of someone born to lead. "It bothers me greatly. We may not be family... but my sister would not want to see her mother in such a state of despair."
Zuikaku sighed lightly, conceding her own frustrations. "I've tried speaking with her as well. She often insists on being left alone."
But JS Izumo's expression held a quiet determination, a faint glow of optimism softening his words. "Even so, I believe she will listen to reason. I still have hope."
The doors slid open softly. The sound cut through the stillness, and Kaga's ear flicked in quiet reaction.
Izumo entered, balancing a tray of breakfast in his hands. He had made it a habit to visit her, compelled by worry as he watched her well-being decline. Both Zuikaku and the household staff had spoken to him of her withdrawn state, their concerns echoing his own.
He approached carefully, his tone calm but edged with genuine worry. "Did you skip your breakfast again this morning?"
Kaga did not answer. Her eyes remained on the pond, as though the ripples on the water were more deserving of her attention than his words.
JS Izumo knew full well she was giving him the silent treatment. A quiet sigh escaped his lips as he realized how difficult she was to convince—like a child sulking in a corner, stubborn in her isolation.
He turned his head slightly, giving Zuikaku a single nod. She hesitated for a moment, then gave a small bow of acknowledgment before sliding the door shut, leaving the two alone in the stillness of the room.
JS Izumo broke the silence, his voice steady yet weighted with concern. "I am worried about your deteriorating health. It has been a month since you've been—"
"It's not your business! Leave me alone," Kaga snapped sharply, cutting him off before he could finish. But her outburst didn't shake him—he had already anticipated it.
JS Izumo's calm gaze did not waver. "It is my business. If my sister were here, she would be disappointed."
The mention of JS Kaga, DDH-184, made her shoulders stiffen. She tilted her head down, shadows falling over her face as the weight of guilt pressed against her.
JS Izumo softened his tone, though his words carried conviction.
"Your well-being matters. If my sister were here, she wouldn't stand for this. Skipping meals will only make things worse... it would lead to arguments, and knowing her—" he exhaled lightly, almost muttering to himself.
"—it would probably lead to a fight."
He stepped closer, kneeling beside her with deliberate calm, and lowered the tray onto the tatami mat. The porcelain bowls clinked softly against the wood, a faint reminder of the untouched meal.
"I won't let you skip breakfast on my watch," he declared, his tone still calm, but now laced with quiet authority.
Kaga turned her face sharply away from him, her voice cold and biting. "Leave me be."
But JS Izumo only shook his head. Without a flicker of hesitation, he lifted a bowl and spoon, his expression unwavering.
"Not going to happen. You'll eat—even if I have to feed you myself."
A shadow cast over Kaga's face as memories surfaced—parallels she could no longer ignore. She remembered that time, long ago, when Akagi had fallen ill. Feverish and stubborn, Akagi brushed off every word of concern, yet Kaga persisted. She visited her bedside, spoon in hand, gently persuading her to eat, to rest, to recover.
And now... the roles were reversed.
She was the one being coaxed, the one resisting, the one who needed someone else's persistence. The realization struck deep, and the weight of it broke her composure. Silent tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.
JS Izumo, watching her shoulders tremble, did not falter. Calmly, he reached into his sleeve and extended a handkerchief. His tone was steady, but not without warmth.
"Do not worry about Akagi. I can speak with Miss Enterprise and the others. Perhaps... I can convince them to lessen your punishment—and hers."
Kaga's fingers trembled as she accepted the handkerchief. She pressed it against her eyes, trying to muffle her sobs, her voice caught between shame and gratitude. She only gave a small nod, her sobs quiet but unrestrained.
( IMAGE )
....
Azur Lane Base, Pearl Harbor
Pearl Harbor bore witness to a surprise attack. This time, however, the blare of sirens found everyone prepared, or so they believed. Despite their heightened readiness, the base still found itself caught off-guard. Devastation spread across various crucial installations, the Main Base Building, the sprawling Warehouses, and the bustling Harbor Docks. Yet, the damages sustained by the Naval Base during the Siren's unexpected assault, while significant, were visibly medium compared to the extensive destruction suffered by Washington D.C., suggesting that repairs could be swiftly initiated and completed in due time.
Several days had elapsed since their departure from the mainland Eagle Union, a journey punctuated by a brief but poignant visit to Akagi at Guantanamo Bay. Upon their arrival at Pearl, a warm reception awaited them at the harbor docks. The Sakurans, who were already forward-deployed at Pearl, were visibly shocked beyond measure at the sight of Amagi. Alive.
Witnessing a long-lost, presumed-dead friend standing before them, vibrant and hale, felt utterly impossible to believe. The sheer magnitude of the moment caused several of them to faint outright, their minds momentarily disconnected from the server as they struggled to process the shocking turn of events that had unfolded before their very eyes. Amagi, not only alive but seemingly well, was a revelation too profound for immediate comprehension.
Amagi, treating her miraculous return with an almost understated grace, simply spread her arms, inviting them to embrace her in a warm, heartfelt reunion. Among the first, and undoubtedly the most overjoyed, was Nagato, who propelled herself into Amagi's arms, tears streaming uncontrollably down her face. One by one, the others followed, forming a huddled group, each welcoming her back with profound emotion.
"At ease, everyone, you're squeezing me a bit too tightly," Amagi remarked with a gentle chuckle, her voice light and warm despite the crushing embrace.
At her words, everyone loosened their hold, giving her a little more space. Nagato, however, remained steadfast, clutching Amagi tightly, much like a child refusing to let go of their most cherished possession.
"Oh, Nagato, I missed you too," Amagi murmured, returning the fervent embrace with equal tenderness.
"I—I, I truly thought you were dead." Nagato stammered, her voice hitching with uncontrolled sobs, tears continuing their relentless descent.
Among the crowd, Mikasa, her composure usually unyielding, allowed a single tear to escape her eye, mirroring the profound surge of emotion swelling within her own chest. "I never truly believed you were gone," she whispered, gently wiping the tear from her left eye.
At the bustling Harbor Dock, the Sakuran girls proved to be the loudest and most boisterous contingent among the gathering crowds that had assembled to greet the arrival of Enterprise-80 and her rather unusual escorts.
"I certainly believe now, when you said it would be both bizarre and deeply heartwarming," Adm. Nimitz commented, his gaze sweeping over the cheering Sakurans.
"It certainly is." Yorktown affirmed, remaining steadfastly by his side, fulfilling her role as his Secretary Ship.
While she didn't celebrate with the same overt exuberance as the Sakurans, she felt a profound, shared pang of emotion. She and Amagi had fought side by side on that fateful day; both had been presumed incapable. Yorktown herself had been grievously crippled, requiring considerable time to recover, while Amagi had vanished, her fate intertwined with others who had fought alongside them.
"I feel her pain," Yorktown murmured softly, almost to herself, "the same pain of hopelessness born from the darkness." Her words, though barely audible, carried the weight of profound understanding.
"Yes. Her prolonged absence and the subsequent news of her death caused significant dissent within the command structure and severely impacted the morale of many Shipgirls," Enterprise-6 explained.
"No one was more devastated than Akagi; she spiraled into a deep depression and a contortion of her mind, which is why she often acts in such an... eccentric manner (as others have observed)."
"It proved quite a formidable task for me to bring her back," Enterprise-80 interjected, her attention now fully on the conversation. She stood beside them, her tone nonchalant yet carrying an undeniable ring of authenticity.
"How so?" Enterprise-6 inquired, a genuine curiosity evident in her voice.
"Well... she and I both ended up in a Spirit Realm, quite by total coincidence," she replied, carefully omitting certain, perhaps less noteworthy, parts of the story.
"A Spirit Realm? That's the world of the dead!" Yorktown exclaimed, baffled by the extraordinary tale.
"Have you... died?" Enterprise-6 asked, her voice laced with genuine concern.
"I don't know... it was complicated to explain. It felt as if our souls connected in some way."
"That seems way to out of our current understanding," Cmdr. Thomas mused, visibly lost in thought regarding the concept of soul connection.
Enterprise-80's shoulders rose in a slight shrug. "I honestly don't know what transpired back there. I just felt like I was whisked away in a flash, and then I was there, standing in a world that felt pristine and serene," she recounted, clearly reminiscing about the profound calm and silence of the place.
Everyone present pondered the nature of this "Spirit Realm," wondering just how peaceful such a place could truly be. The description Enterprise-80 provided painted a picture reminiscent of a Sakuran countryside, complete with serene rice paddies and traditional wooden houses, as if plucked directly from ancient times.
As everyone contemplated this harmonious realm, the two Enterprises found a moment to discuss their alternate personalities in private, shielded from the prying ears of others.
Enterprise-6, her arms crossed, spoke first. "So... you have yours too," she said, a shadow seemingly falling across her face.
Enterprise-80 slowly nodded her head. "Yes... her personality tends to lean a bit more towards the chaotic side."
"Chaotic how?" Enterprise-6 pressed, keen to learn more about this new alternate personality.
"Let's just say my other side often remains unchecked," Enterprise-80 replied, turning her gaze away, casually brushing her hands as if the matter were of little concern. In truth, however, it was a very real, literal concern.
It was, in fact, the primary driving force behind her voyage to the Sakura Empire, to seek answers and guidance regarding the looming problem of potentially losing control over her alternate personality.
Enterprise-6 remained skeptical of her tone, her eyes observing Enterprise-80 with a keen, almost sharp intensity. Being intrinsically connected with Code-G and having once been under its influence herself, Enterprise-6 had even greater reason to fear her counterpart losing control and unleashing the full, unrestrained power she inherently held back.
Enterprise-80 noticed the sharpening of her gaze. "I have control for now... but I still need to establish a strong connection and open a clearer dialogue with her. The last time I truly lashed out, she took over completely," she paused, glancing upwards. "That's why I need the Sakurans' help in connecting to her world, to understand her better."
Enterprise-6's tensed observation gradually loosened. "Let's hope you two get along," she said, her tone carrying a hint of lingering guilt.
"Not to worry about that; I have excellent communication skills," Enterprise-80 quipped, injecting a subtle hint of humor to lighten the mood.
Enterprise-6 curved a small smile. "Sure you do."
She then gestured. "Come on, the others are waiting for us."
The two Enterprises emerged from their private corner, joining the rest of the gathering in their celebration of Amagi's return. Some had truly thrown themselves into the festivities, complete with celebratory poppers and an abundance of Dangos.
...
MEANWHILE....
A man clad in his striking dark coat, a gleaming Katana at his hip, his hair slicked back, maintained a nonchalant expression, though a subtle face of annoyance and discomfort flickered across his features.
The source of his vexation? The incessant noise and the annoyingly energetic children with animal ears and tails running around.
Zumwalt's expression was a mixture of genuine surprise and unease at the sight of the Sakuran Destroyers darting around.
"Why are there lost children running around so loosely on the Base?" he muttered, his eyes darting left and right, observing the miniature chaos.
"Where are their parents?" he mumbled silently to himself.
Laffey-200, positioned several meters away, maintained a vigilant eye on him, as if observing his every movement, her eyes imperceptibly narrowed, detecting the slightest hint of tension.
The two stood there, almost like statues, each with focused attention, seemingly insensible to the glances they were attracting. Zumwalt, with his Katana casually held in hand, stood out the most.
One of them, a child—one of the Mutsuki sisters, Kisaragi approached him.
"Umm... Mister?" she asked carefully, clearly not wanting to offend this individual who exuded an aura of indifference to others, yet possessed a sharp gaze and focused demeanor akin to that of the "Residential Drunk Bunny."
Zumwalt lowered his gaze, meeting the eyes of the small figure below. Before him stood a child with soft pink hair, dog-like ears, and a tail, quivering slightly under his intense gaze.
"Are you one of us?" she asked, her voice trembling as it always did.
The intense gaze stretched into what felt like an eternity, a damn minute, before he finally responded in a low, yet audible, tone.
"No."
The next thing he knew, all the Sakurans present were staring intently at him.
Nagato and Mikasa regarded him as if he were fundamentally different from the other Modern Kansens bearing the US Navy prefix. The Katana he held captive their focused attention; they could sense the immense, latent power sheathed within it.
"This person... I can sense an immense power being hidden," Nagato mused, her gaze fixed upon him.
Mikasa nodded in agreement. "I sense it too. He's barely even hiding it. Or perhaps that's just how he is. His presence isn't visibly detectable, yet there he stands, perfectly still."
Both found themselves unable to sense Zumwalt's presence, only a faint flicker of it. He was undeniably visible to their eyes, yet his aura of presence was curiously absent, and that deeply concerned them.
"That's just how he's always been," Amagi said, speaking from beside them, possessing a small measure of knowledge regarding the man's unusual presence.
Both Nagato and Mikasa turned their heads towards her, confusion etched across their faces.
"How so?" Nagato asked, curiosity rising, causing her fox-ears to twitch slightly.
Amagi held her chin thoughtfully. "It's part of his character—undetectable even when he's visibly present. It was the primary reason his ship was designed in such a unique way."
They turned their attention towards the pier, where they could indeed see an oddly shaped warship, resembling nothing so much as a blocky, angular knife. Its design was starkly different from any other ship moored there. While DDG-200 USS Laffey's design could be compared to DDG-1000 USS Zumwalt, everything on this ship was meticulously hidden, even its medium-caliber gun. Not a single weapon was visible on its deck.
Their attention then returned to Zumwalt.
"He was meant to be the ultimate weapon of the century..." Amagi began, then paused, as if recalling something important. She trailed off, seemingly hesitant to incur his ire.
Zumwalt, for his part, harbored a deep aversion to anyone speaking of his early days in the Navy or the constant controversies surrounding his class. Should he hear a word, they would surely face his 'Judgment Blade'.
"I think that's quite enough there," Amagi said, visibly nervous. One wrong word, and she might well end up with a rather unfortunate, if complimentary, haircut.
"Is something the matter?" Nagato inquired, noticing Amagi's apparent agitation.
Amagi quickly turn her away from, a bit flustered.
"Oh, nothing at all..." she replied, waving her hands dismissively, as if it were of no concern. "Just... don't ask him about sensitive topics." She spoke the words like a solemn warning.
...
On Zumwalt's POV
'Great, there are two of them now,' he thought, observing another fox-woman, as if Amagi wasn't annoying enough with her constant inquiries.
Throughout their voyage to Pearl, she had been a veritable fountain of questions. She had inquired about his origin, the peculiar reason he wielded a Katana, and even his proficiency in swordsmanship. Zumwalt's inherently introverted nature found itself constantly bothered by a fox-woman persistently asking him such personal questions. He detested the inquiries, yet she always bore that warm, persistent smile, constantly attempting to penetrate his cold exterior.
And beside him, mere meters away, bore the same nonchalant expression was Laffey-200. No one else could sense it, but between them, a perpetual tension lingered, unyielding.
To his side, he lowered his gaze to where the Mutsuki Sisters were still staring up at him.
"Mister," Mutsuki finally spoke, pointing directly at him.
Zumwalt slightly raised a brow. "What do you want?"
"Why are you standing there and looking menacing?" she asked, seemingly oblivious to the underlying tension.
Time and air seemed to halt, as if the entire world paused, when Zumwalt deliberately made everyone feel his presence. Beads of sweat trickled down Mutsuki's forehead, as if she had inadvertently activated a dormant bomb.
In a total reversal of his usual stealth, Zumwalt had deliberately turned on his transmitter, intending to ensure they were aware of his presence. But it had backfired spectacularly. His presence should have remained hidden.
"Do I look less menacing now?" he asked, as if his mere presence had instantly dispelled his intimidating demeanor.
"Ha—HAI!" Mutsuki squealed in response, still terrified.
"Ha, ha, I can't believe you've gone picking fun of the Mutsukis."
Zumwalt turned his gaze towards the source of the voice. It was William, followed closely by Lucas. He faced them, bearing no familiarity towards either of the two.
"You two?" he asked, seeking their identities.
"Oh, sorry about that, the name is USNS William McLean," William introduced himself.
"USS Jack H. Lucas," Lucas followed, introducing himself.
Zumwalt merely stared.
"Don't be hostile, or you'll end up like that one," William said casually, gesturing with his thumb towards Laffey-200.
Zumwalt's eyes followed his thumb, which pointed directly at Laffey-200, who bore the same unreadable expression as his own. She just stood there, eyes fixated on him like a loyal guard dog on watch.
"You're saying?" Zumwalt prompted.
William rested his hands on his hips, sighing expressively. "This world gets far weirder the more you learn from it."
...
Other Side of the Crowd
Cleve-Dude and Canberra found themselves enveloped by a swarm of Cruisers, predominantly from the Cleveland Class. LCS Cleveland was practically surrounded on both sides, bombarded with a barrage of questions and speculative guesses.
"Odd, you look like her, but you're... different," Columbia remarked, leaning closer, her hands cupping her chin in thought.
"You're slim," Montpellier observed, eyeing him from head to toe.
"You look like her, but with short hair," Denver chimed in.
"And a few inches less in height," Biloxi added, noticing the subtle disparity.
"Enough!" Cleve-Dude snapped, his patience reaching its limit with their incessant muttering and observations about him. "Sorry if my appearance shattered your expectations of me!!!" he lashed out, a comical plea in his voice.
"He even sounds like her," Birmingham noted.
"Please stop comparing me to her," Cleve-Dude pleaded, almost comically, burying his face in his hands.
Canberra, standing beside him and observing the scene, leaned in. "Compared to her, we're just LCSs."
Breaking the comical tension, Columbia initiated a more serious conversation. "So, what exactly does an LCS do? We've only heard rather unflattering reputations among others. What exactly is your purpose?"
That question immediately captured the attention of the two LCSs. They had anticipated being criticized based purely on their visible armaments and perceived lack of other sensors.
"We were designed to conduct missions near the shore or in littoral waters where larger ships cannot enter," Cleve-Dude explained. "We perform missions that bigger ships shouldn't have to burden themselves with, like intercepting pirates and smugglers. We were never truly meant for the open high seas."
"My entire class has issues with that," Canberra added. "Our aluminum hulls tend to crack because of the high waves of the open sea, and continuous high sea operation."
"Mine suffered from a broken gearbox where two different types of engines—gas turbine and diesel—connecting their gears," Cleve-Dude continued. "Later hulls rectified those initial issues, but the fundamental problem remains... what to do with our class if we fail the missions we were designed for?"
Canberra cut in with a remarkably cheery undertone. "So, they ended up turning us into drone motherships!"
"Drone mothership?" the Cleveland Sisters echoed, surprised.
"Yes," she affirmed, wagging her index finger playfully. "Because of the vast empty spaces on our decks, devoid of missions, we consequently became one of the 'Lethal Combat Ships'!" As she spoke, an ethereal glow seemed to light up behind her.
Coincidentally, the Cleveland sisters instinctively covered their eyes, as if a powerful spotlight had suddenly focused entirely on her, making everything around her blindingly bright.
"What's with the light?" Birmingham asked, squinting to discern its origin.
"Her aura of optimism," Biloxi simply stated.
Cleve-Dude, with a blank expression, stared at her. 'Where did she get that bright spotlight?' he wondered internally, as her aura of optimism shone with undeniable brilliance.
"Damn, what's with all the lights?" Essex-12 interjected, walking into the scene, her aviator glasses gleaming. "Oh, it seems you guys are getting along with the LCSs."
Columbia turned. "Oh, Essex, it's you."
"So this is Cleveland's counterpart? I was expecting him to be more on the bulkier side, not a carbon copy of our own," Essex-9 of the Essex-Class Carrier observed.
"If you look from a distance, he really does look like Cleveland with short hair," Bunker Hill-17 (Carrier) interjected, her tone and precision mirroring that of her Nuclear Cruiser counterpart.
Cleve-Dude and Canberra looked at both Essexes and Bunker Hill-17, mentally comparing and contrasting each of their characters.
LHA Essex resembled a Marine more than she did any feature of the Essex Class Carrier, save for her face. Carrier Bunker Hill possessed the same sharp demeanor, but the level of intimidation exuded by the Cruiser was profoundly different from the one currently standing before them.
...
Next Day
Morning
Sakura Empire Dorm
Enterprise-80 sat cross-legged in the center of the room, intricate runes scribed beneath the floor. Talismans hung conspicuously from the walls. To a casual observer, the arrangement might easily be mistaken for a ritualistic ceremony.
"Are we performing an exorcism this early in the morning? What's with all the hanging talismans on the walls?" she inquired, puzzled by the unusual setup.
"They are purely for precautionary measures," Amagi explained. "Those talismans exist solely to suppress any wild spirits, or in your specific case, your Alternate-ego."
Enterprise-80 turn her gaze down at the floor where she can visible see the rune inscribed on the floor, her attention back at the two fox after hearing one of them spoke.
"Let's begin, shall we?" Nagato's soft voice gently cut in.
Enterprise-80 nodded, giving her permission for the ritual to commence.
"This is not a prolonged ritual, like some performed at the temple," Nagato cautioned. "This is merely a momentary checking of the connection between you and her, to see if it's severed."
Then, Nagato and Amagi both raised their open palms, beginning to chant the spirit-summoning ritual.
Enterprise-80 remained seated in the center, the scribed rune beneath her glowing faintly. She closed her eyes momentarily, and when she opened them again, her usual purple pupils had transformed into a vivid crimson red.
Code-X took over in an instance, as the chanting began.
"Sorry... no visitors for today."
Her words caught everyone in the room by surprise. The spirit's presence was undeniably strong, and its connection equally so. The talismans hanging on the wall began to burn with an ominous purple fire, and the rune inscribed on the floor was instantly erased, leaving only charred marks and wisps of smoke in its wake.
Nagato and Amagi were left speechless. They had never anticipated such raw power. They had barely begun the incantation when Enterprise-80's alternate-ego had reacted with such force.
Enterprise-80 returned to her usual self, now simply seated in the middle of the burnt rune, seemingly oblivious to the intense event that had just transpired.
"So, was it successful?" she asked, observing the bewildered expressions on their faces, which suggested otherwise.
"Yes... it was a success, but the connection between you and her is incredibly strong. It erased everything," Nagato said, her tone laced with concern.
Enterprise-80 turned to see the charred talismans and the utterly burnt-out rune where she had been sitting.
"That doesn't look good," she muttered to herself after taking in the sight.
"It isn't," Amagi confirmed, nodding her head gravely. "We just wanted to create a small opening for you to establish a connection within her dimension, but it seems your connection with her is far stronger than we had anticipated."
Outside, Enterprise-6 waited at the entrance gate, her arms crossed, a picture of quiet anticipation.
"So, how was it?" she inquired, keen to know if the ritual had been successful.
"Yes, it was a success, but..." she trailed off, still visibly bewildered by the sight she had witnessed within her dimension.
"But what?" Enterprise-6 pressed.
"It was a stronger connection than the two of them had expected, and it ended up burning the talismans and charring the rune on the floor. It was so strong that it happened right as we were just starting the chant," Enterprise-80 explained, walking at a steady pace beside her counterpart.
"Odd," Enterprise-6 said, her expression turning serious at this information. "Mine seems to be dormant at the moment."
"Oh..." Enterprise-80 turned to face her. "I never expected her to be so dormant. She only appears when there are looming crises. Perhaps the nuclear detonation in the Siren Dimension hampered some of the Siren's plans."
"Good for us, then."
"We still have Crimson Axis to worry about. Maybe it's a good times for us that there are no Sirens plotting in the shadows for now."
"Reports indicate that Siren raids on global shipping lines have decreased significantly," Enterprise-6 added. "The Sirens must be out of resources after that attack on their dimension."
Enterprise-80 sighed. "I never would have thought Theodore would actually drop a NUCLEAR BOMB on the Siren Dimension. I tried something similar with my arrow through their portals, but it didn't make it through."
"Perhaps the Sirens made the portal large enough that anything could pass through it," Enterprise-6 mused.
"...Probably."
"Say..." Enterprise-6 changed the subject smoothly, her eyes narrowing. "Where are the troublemakers?"
...
Bar
At the Bar, where our Residential Drunk Bunny invariably found comfort—whether from the copious amounts of alcohol or the spirited bar fights she routinely partook in as if they were championship bouts.
Everyone, including the men at their tables and seats, was compelled to be on their best behavior. She was back, and her natural instinct for picking fights among the pervs and drunks.
Her presence wasn't the only one noticed; other individuals also attracted significant attention: Zumwalt, Cleve-Dude, and Canberra.
"I can't believe we're gathering this much attention, more than we thought we would," Lucas said, noticing the quick, surreptitious glances being thrown their way.
"I think they're looking at the new faces... like us," Canberra offered, casually stirring her drink, her eyes glancing subtly from side to side.
"New faces, or just the mistaken ones," Cleve-Dude mumbled, as if attempting to hide, frequently covering his face as if someone were constantly scrutinizing him.
Cleve-Dude had been blessed and cursed simultaneously. Looking so much like Cleve-Bro, he was often inundated by her legions of fangirls. Cleve-Dude found himself stuck between a hard wall and a mob of adoring fans. They would talk about 'her,' discussing her shorter hair and her choice to dress as a man.
And to his luck, Zumwalt happened to pass by, his formidable, almost 'gigachad' aura—or perhaps just his inherently scary demeanor—caused them all to scramble away.
"I can't believe she has more fangirls than a modern WNBA fanbase," Cleve-Dude wailed, his face buried despairingly in the table.
"They actually complimented me about my short hair and my choice of clothing, as if I were some damn celebrity," he groaned, his voice muffled by the tabletop.
"Maybe you should stay away from crowds. Those fangirls still see you as 'Cruiser' Cleveland. It's probably best not to walk alone when leaving the Dorm next time," Lucas advised.
"Or maybe you should just act like her, mate," Canberra cut in with a cheerful thumbs-up, followed by a wide smile and a mischievous glint in her eye.
Cleve-Dude buried his face even further into the table, overcome with embarrassment. "Could you please stop? I'm dying from being looked at like a Cleveland Cruiser!" he wailed with a heartfelt sob.
"At least you're not being mistaken for a lost child," Lucas said with a raised glass, vividly recalling how Zumwalt had treated Queen Elizabeth, much like Saitama had treated Tatsumaki in their first encounter.
It was a hilarious encounter, indeed, as Zumwalt completely failed to recognize the authority of a certain monarch.
Flashback that day before.
Adm. Nimitz, accompanied by Yorktown, was graciously guiding the new arrivals around the base, essentially providing them with the same comprehensive tour that other Modern Kansens had experienced upon their first days at the Naval Base. Canberra and Cleve-Dude frequently pointed out the striking similarities between some of the existing facilities and those historically inscribed back on Earth. Like children on a school field trip, they were often quite vocal and enthusiastic, pointing with their fingers and being remarkably "informative."
As they proceeded down a hallway, a pathway connecting to the Dormitories of each faction, they were greeted by an unusual sight near the Royal Navy Dorm. Standing there were a maid, an overly fashionable ladies, and a child.
Zumwalt, with his keen, almost unnerving perception, immediately noticed the child wearing a crown, who was acting with all the airs of royalty, evidenced by her meticulous movements and a distinct, smug grin on her face.
Without a moment's hesitation, Zumwalt pointed directly at her, then turned to the nearest person—Laffey-200—with his usual bland expression and asked. "What's with this sassy... lost child?"
( IMAGE )
"Ignore the child, nobody pays attention to it," Laffey-200 replied, bearing the exact same bland expression as his.
"Hey!" Queen Elizabeth barked, while raising her scepter as s baton, her expression shows that she was about to pounced at the man. "Who do you called lost child!?"
These two truly seemed to exist solely to troll the power leveling of the game and, specifically, the Royal Navy.
And, of course, their exchange caused immediate trouble for everyone present, erupting into a full-blown fight with Warspite. Zumwalt, known for his introverted nature and strict schedule, certainly did not have the time or inclination to face off against someone with comparable sword skills, much less a combatant that looked like a Corgi. However, these were the Brits, and he simply couldn't spare any further time to make the situation worse.
Remarkably, and out of Enterprise's sight and usual responsibilities, Zumwalt and Warspite (had been blessed by the Queen herself) somehow acquired a "green card"—an unspoken, yet undeniable permission to duel things out.
The battle had been furious, a blur to most, as both combatants moved faster than sound. Sparks flew and sonic booms rent the air as Warspite's mighty broadsword clashed repeatedly with Zumwalt's Katana. Zumwalt, remarkably, did not break a sweat, parrying Warspite's slashes and strikes with effortless precision.
As everyone present held their breath in rapt anticipation, Zumwalt swiftly drew his sword across Warspite's neck—and time seemed to stop, along with the hushed cheers. It was a blink of an eye; one moment they were fighting, the next, everyone knew Warspite had lost.
After the fight, Warspite and Zumwalt, surprisingly, reconciled over their shared respect for sword skills and acknowledged their power differences. Queen Elizabeth, however, was far from reconciled; she had been treated like a lost child in a Naval Base and simply could not cope with the fact that Warspite had lost a sword duel.
Lucas then turned his attention to the two formidable figures at the counter table: Zumwalt and Laffey-200. They remained silent, but the palpable tension between them persisted, seemingly unbothered by the patrons around them.
The Bartender slid the glasses of their ordered drinks across the counter. He was surprised that the man had chosen the more branded and expensive option, while Laffey-200, as always, opted for the one with a serious kick.
"Say," the Bartender leaned in, whispering to Lucas's ear, "what's the deal with these two? I feel like a melting ice cube in front of a burning furnace. Are they always in such tension?"
Lucas, with a smirk well-known to the Bartender, leaned closer and spoke conspiratorially. "Just let the two of them brew in their own storm. It's better not to position yourself in between; you'll be torn apart."
The Bartender recoiled slightly, feeling a wave of anxiety from Lucas's words. "I'm not sure about that... I have a distinct feeling this place might not exist much longer if one of them decides to start a fight."
Lucas and the Bartender exchanged a quick, knowing glance towards the two.
"Yeah... we're lucky no one was playing 'FAFO' with these two," Lucas said, sipping his glass.
The day at the bar continued without major incident, only small chatters and murmurs filling their ears. Laffey-200 and Zumwalt remained unchanged, each exerting their distinct aura of authority, leading everyone to believe they were seated beside two ticking time bombs.
As the day concluded, Enterprise-80, accompanied by her escorts, prepared to continue their journey to the Sakura Empire. There, she intended to rest and, more importantly, forge a deeper connection with her alter-ego. If she ever wished to return to combat, she needed her alternate self to be fully cooperative. She could not, under any circumstances, go into battle with such an unstable mind. If she were to snap in the middle of a conflict, her alter-ego could seize complete control, and no one could predict the extent of her unrestrained power. One disastrous action could lead to another—she might detonate a nuclear bomb in the midst of everyone, affecting both sides of the conflict. She simply could not allow that to happen, which was precisely why she had come to the Sakurans, seeking the guidance of their spiritual powers.
And even upon landing in the land of Cherry Blossoms, accompanying problems would surely persist. Zumwalt and Laffey-200 would undoubtedly find ways to stir things up, and given Zumwalt's inherent nature of dominance over anything, Enterprise-80 fervently hoped that no one would encourage him into another sword duel, now more than ever.