Back at the Frigates
Chaos erupted. Splashes of water, followed by sharp explosions and hissing steam, as Breaker Mk-III's continuously firing barrage of plasma cannon.
The Frigates' quick acceleration and tight, almost impossible turns allowed them to evade every single attack Breaker Mk-III threw their way.
Hamilton, being the only one equipped with an Aegis Combat System and all the advanced electronics needed for high-intensity combat, was fully engaged in providing crucial data links to the other two. His electronic countermeasures, along with Braunschweig's, went toe-to-toe with the two Humanoid Sirens' sophisticated jamming efforts, a silent battle of technological might.
Luna dashed forward with his Saber Sword drawn, his Oto Melara 76mm autocannon barking angrily as he engaged Breaker Mk-III with a mix of sustained gunfire, quick wit, and sheer bravery.
"T*ng-ina, eat this!!!" he shouted, his autocannon unleashing a torrent of shells.
Ning Hai and Ping Hai assisted with what they could, firing their mounted guns, even if it seemed futile against the Sirens' shimmering, raised force fields. Still, they lent a hand, providing what little support they could.
Braunschweig and Hamilton were both primarily engaging Strategist Mk-III.
Braunschweig hailed down a steady stream of lead at the Siren aircraft, his MG-42 lit-up the sky, followed by tracer rounds climbing like fiery ropes, meticulously tracking the path of the Siren planes.
His RIM-116 RAM swiveled upright with an audible whir. He instantly acquired a lock—plumes of smoke erupted from the launcher, followed by a missile rising swiftly into the air. The infrared camera of the RIM-116 Missile turned, locked on, and precisely followed the Siren plane, then—Boom. The explosion tore violently through the Siren plane's airframe, obliterating it.
Braunschweig was totally cyphering his Inner-German, as his MG-42 Machinegun never missed a target. All the planes he targeted spiraled downwards, bellowing thick black smoke before crashing onto the surface of the water with huge, fiery explosions.
[ German with a Jackhammer. (REUPLOADED) ] By TheTimmynatoRex
Even with his small frame and stature, his grip on the MG-42 was firm and tight, never having lost sight of his rapidly dwindling targets.
Hamilton, looking like a kid lost in a school play, now had two handheld Glock-18s in his hands—equipped with extended 12-round magazines and firing on full-auto.
"Damn it, raising a force field in the middle of a gunfight was quite a shabby move," he muttered, even as he rained down a storm of 9mm lead at the Siren, his frustration mounting.
*Click*
"Shit, out of ammo," he swore, after emptying his magazine at her, but his MK-110 Naval Gun still kept firing nonstop, providing suppressive fire.
He swiftly evaded another attack, a massive plasma blast narrowly missing him. He narrowed his gaze, his patience rapidly waning as the relentless barrage and raining bombs pushed him closer to the edge of his composure.
They had tried their Anti-Ship Missiles at them, but the NSMs were proving incapable of breaking through the Sirens' robust defenses. Luna couldn't launch his BrahMos Missile as it required ample space for the ramjet to properly work, and he was also actively engaging one of the Humanoid Sirens; one lost focus could easily be their end.
He snapped his thoughts out of it, quickly reloaded his Glock, and started returning fire with renewed vigor.
"Shit! I can't fire my BrahMos Missile with this..." Luna paused mid-sentence, trying to remember the name of the Siren. "—Siren firing at me like in a termination mode or something!" he shouted, utterly frustrated that he couldn't unleash his most potent weapon.
"We can't do shit, ja," Braunschweig said, sounding like a thoroughly frustrated German. "These planes, they are like mosquitoes buzzing around, endlessly."
"They are trying my patience!" exclaimed Hamilton, clearly not having fun dealing with the constant aerial threats that Strategist Mk-III had unleashed into the air.
"Grrr...." Luna growled, his face contorted in anger. "Mga Mandaraya! Who would use a force-field and aerial support—it's like having cheat codes activated!"
"And there's an abundance of them," Hamilton added, his voice strained. "Quite frustrating to deal with—"
*BOOM*
A nearby explosion abruptly interrupted him, sending a geyser of water into the air. "Curses! I wish I had more VLS Cells to deal with these aerial threats efficiently!"
"I'm on my last belt," Braunschweig announced, as he shoved the last ammo belt from his pockets into his MG-42. Accessing his inventory for more would take too long, and the Sirens wouldn't grant him that luxury of time.
As the Frigates were struggling, their communication reduced to shouting their frustration at the Sirens through their comms, unexpectedly, Ning Hai took a direct hit. It only grazed her rigging, but the force was strong enough to melt the thin armor.
That immediately reduced her mobility, as she could only limp along at a reduced speed. Ping Hai rushed to help her sister, shielding her from the upcoming attack.
Up above, a single Siren plane circled, then made a sharp, diving turn for its attack run, carrying a heavy 1,000lb bomb. The two sisters could only watch helplessly as the Siren plane got closer—and closer—for its devastating attack.
Ning Hai, with a grim determination, shielded her sister, embracing her tightly. She was already injured; it wouldn't matter, she thought, as long as her sister lived to see another day. Ning Hai closed her eyes, bracing herself for the inevitable end.
But her act of self-sacrifice was abruptly interrupted as the sound of continuous, rapid fire came from an Oto Melara Autocannon, raining down fire directly at the Siren plane until it violently exploded along with its payload.
At the sight of the Empery Sisters, Luna stood firm, his Oto Melara Autocannon raised high, facing the remaining Siren planes. He had rushed to save them, even if he had a general dislike for their faction. The sisters gleamed, their faces alight with gratitude after seeing him and how he had protected them both from certain destruction.
"No one dies on my watch!" Luna declared, his voice ringing with fierce determination.
At his bold declaration, the other two frigates, momentarily surprised, instantly regained their confidence.
With renewed confidence, the three Frigates faced what they believed was the greatest threat to humanity. They all stood tall, chins and chests held high, ready to engage. But then... a series of thunderous explosions.
The explosions had caught them completely off-guard. The Sirens were still floating defiantly, making menacing looks, along with the eerie hum of their alien-like rigging.
Strategist Mk-III suddenly received a Tomahawk Strike that shattered her force field. Then, thousands of bullets tore through her like she was nothing more than a target-dummy on a shooting range, reducing her to scraps.
Breaker Mk-III had received something far more devastating. The air was still and calm—then, as if reality itself was sliced along with her, she was cut into a thousand pieces, then came the massive explosion that obliterated her into nothingness.
Up in the sky, Siren Planes started to explode one by one as if being precisely targeted, then the final one exploded as a missile impacted its airframe, leaving only smoke trails.
The Frigates' expressions were those of utter surprise and disbelief, as the two Humanoid Sirens had been dealt with so easily, so brutally. Their mouths agape like fools, they all instinctively turned to look up. And up above the clear blue sky, an F-35B Lightning was soaring, flames visibly protruding from its rear exhaust.
Then, as if a ghost had been summoned, a man devoid of any emotions in his tone spoke from above. "That was far too easy... it didn't even put up a challenge. What a fool to even meet my blade."
Then another person spoke, her tone devoid of emotions, just like the man moments ago, but with a hint of disdain. "Such a waste; maybe a remnant of the invasion force, desperate at making scoreboards."
A Bunny Girl strolled casually into view, an M-134 Minigun in hand, and based on the six smoking-hot barrels, she had been the one that had brutally handled Strategist Mk-III.
"It didn't even come to my mind that they were this big of a threat," the man said, sounding cocky, yet the way he spoke about it suggested he was far above them in combat prowess.
( IMAGE )
Both then turned their attention to the stunned, silent Frigates, who looked up at the two figures whose demeanor seemed to tower over them, radiating immense power.
Then, from one of the passing F-35Bs, a person jumped off with impossible grace and landed directly in front of them on the water. The person was that of a Fox, with distinct fox-ears and nine-flowing tails.
"Targets were safe," the woman with bunny ears reported, her voice flat.
"No injuries... just stunned silence," the man said in a monotone, sounding exactly like a robot in his delivery of words.
The man with fox-ears and nine-tails reconfirmed through the comms. "Yes. Targets were all alright, no injuries, just stunned silence... over."
"Who....? Who the hell are you three?!" Luna boldly asked, his surprise giving way to a surge of curiosity after witnessing the astonishing termination of the Humanoid Sirens at the hands of these three mysterious and overwhelmingly powerful people.
The other two Frigates, Hamilton and Braunschweig, snapped their attention to him as fast as the wind, their eyes wide with alarm.
"Have you gone mad?! You don't ask that question after they defeated those Sirens with such ease!" Hamilton's voice boomed in concern; he was genuinely afraid Luna might offend them.
"They might kill us by chance!" Braunschweig uttered, his small frame trembling slightly.
The man with fox-ears and nine-tails raised an open palm, gesturing calmly that they were not hostile entities.
"At ease. We're the ones that heeded your call," the man said, his tone calm and reassuring.
"A Sakuran," uttered Ning Hai, Ping Hai by her side, still in a state of awe.
The man with Fox-ears nodded his head. "My name is JS Izumo of the Japan Self-Defense Force," he introduced himself.
The Frigates beamed; there was someone from their world, and a familiar one at that, a clear sign of home.
Then he gestured to the two figures who still maintained faces of nonchalance and utter boredom, as if the battle had been a mere inconvenience. "This is Laffey and Zumwalt, United States Navy."
Hamilton was surprised to see another ship belonging to the US Navy, but then he wondered why their faces were so unwelcoming. In their eyes, he could only see a chilling sense of superiority towards him. He had a distinct feeling they were not thrilled by the battle, as if it felt more like a trivial simulation than a real, life-or-death fight.
~Later~
Ping Hai's ship was now being towed by three Sakuran Destroyers: Yudachi, Shigure, and Yukikaze.
Their role was purely logistical: tow operations, not combat. High-end Modern Kansens like Zumwalt and Laffey-200 wouldn't lower themselves to such tasks, remaining on standby for any lingering threats to the convoy.
Leading the convoy with a dignified presence was DDH-183 JS Izumo.
On the deck of the JS Izumo, the Frigates stood without their rigging attached to them. Their own ships were sailing alongside, mysteriously manned by Manjuus and Meowfficers. The existence of these peculiar creatures would certainly need to be thoroughly explained to them to avoid any further misunderstandings.
"Whoa... I can't believe the Sakurans would help and tow an Empery ship to be repaired on their docks," Hamilton murmured, his eyes fixed on Ping Hai's ship being towed by the Sakura Destroyers.
Standing beside him, JS Izumo responded calmly, his fox ears twitching slightly. "Like Earth, the Empery and Sakurans have had their own wars, but for now, it's a time for peace as we are currently focused on one common enemy."
"The Sirens. Was that the one we fought a moment ago?" Hamilton inquired.
"Yes."
"What are they?" Hamilton asked, his eyes narrowing, seeking more information.
"An alien race—not from this world. They threatened this world with invasion, and continue to do so."
Before Hamilton could press further, a crisp voice chimed in from overhead, floating down to them.
"My search area is all clear; there are no further lingering threats up ahead."
A woman in a flowing red dress and a white Kimono, which flattered gracefully in the wind, descended gracefully onto the deck.
Zuikaku landed, paper cutouts held delicately in her hand. The paper cutouts were her mystical means of controlling and communicating with her aircraft flying high above.
The Frigates turned to get a better look at her.
"Who is she? Didn't see her before," Luna asked, his thumb pointed over his shoulder towards Zuikaku.
"That's Zuikaku. She's one of the Sakura Empire's Fleet Carriers; she's keeping an eye over our skies," JS Izumo explained, as if holding her in high regard, respecting her capabilities.
"I doubt that," Luna said bluntly, not trusting the 'keeping an eye on the sky' part. In the eyes of advanced radars, it felt utterly useless, almost archaic.
"I'd rather trust a modern radar than a paper charm."
"Not to be rude, but... I'll go with Luna's words," Hamilton chimed in, supporting Luna's skepticism.
JS Izumo tried to maintain his composure, but his facade was cracking as muffled chuckles escaped his lips. He then turned his gaze away, trying to hide his amusement.
"Hey!" Zuikaku shouted, her eyes twitching in annoyance as her ego was visibly bruised by their dismissive comments. "I may not have advanced radars as you do, but I am still capable of keeping the skies safe with my planes! My planes are my wings, and I rule the skies!" she boldly declared with a dramatic flair, a challenge in her voice.
Hamilton and Luna both thought silently. 'Yet you failed to beat Enterprise.'
Braunschweig spoke, his tone low and neutral, attempting to mediate between both sides. "Well... to be fair, we did get ourselves handled by the Siren Planes for a moment there," he admitted.
Luna and Hamilton quietly grumbled to themselves, acknowledging the truth. Braunschweig was right; they had been overwhelmed by Siren planes as the Siren had just spawned more and more out of its flight-deck rigging. And that's precisely why Zumwalt and Laffey-200 had been looking down at them in such clear disappointment.
Zuikaku had a smug smirk on her face, as if she had just won an argument with toddlers, and yet, the unspoken truth remained: she still couldn't win against Enterprise.
...
4:00 PM
Tokyo Bay Port
Waves splashed gently against the seawall, and seagulls screeched overhead, creating the ambient noise of the ocean. Enterprise-80 stood alone at the harbor's edge, her gaze fixed intently over the distant horizon. The report had reached her: three Frigates.
Three Frigates had been summoned without her knowledge. That deeply concerned her. If Code-G had summoned them without her knowledge, or if someone else entirely had done it... Perhaps the Sirens? But that was impossible, as Code-G had explicitly explained that she was the only one capable of such summons. Then who? She pondered the notion of the uninformed Kansen summon, a mystery gnawing at her.
Then a faint voice called to her, gently pulling her train of thoughts back to the real world, along with her senses. A gentle breeze swept across the bay, tugging softly at her hair, making her react and turn.
Behind her was Frigate Belfast, patiently waiting and looking concerned.
"You've been dazed again, Miss Enterprise. Are you feeling well?" Frigate Belfast asked, her tone concerned, yet with a touch of gentle deference.
"Am I?" Enterprise-80 questioned, her voice distant.
Frigate Belfast nodded her head, concern etching her features, yet she maintained her professional composure.
"Sorry... there's just too much going on inside my head, and I can't explain it with just simple words," Enterprise-80 said sincerely, her gaze drifting back to the horizon.
"Maybe you should take a rest. Ever since you've been affected by the darkness, you've been dazing out or just staring into nowhere, lost in thought."
Then suddenly, Frigate Belfast lowered her head slightly. "Please... take a rest and don't stress yourself about the war and the Sirens. You're here to rest... remember?" She raised her head and smiled softly, as if kindly asking her to slow down, to step away from the burden.
Enterprise-80 blinked as she remembered her sole reason for being at Sakura Empire. She was there to gain understanding with her alter-ego, and also, crucially, to rest her mind and find peace.
"Yes. I shouldn't worry myself too much... maybe it was just random, the same as our teleportation to this world," Enterprise-80 said, her tone softening, a hint of resignation in her voice.
Frigate Belfast reached out a hand, a silent invitation. "Shall we?"
Enterprise-80 stared at her offered hand for a moment, contemplating, before gently taking it, gripping it tightly, finding a measure of comfort in the gesture.
"We have a dinner at Miss Yamato's Mansion tonight, and being the guest of honor means you absolutely need to be present," she said, a muffled chuckle slipping from her lips, attempting to lighten the mood.
"Sure, you really do know how to change the mood," Enterprise-80 silently uttered, a faint smile touching her lips, as she was gently pulled away from the port.
"That's my specialty," Frigate Belfast replied with a small, knowing laugh, guiding her away from the melancholic view of the harbor.
...
At Night, Harbor
The three Frigates looked around, bewildered by the otherworldly sight before them. The city was nice and calm, not the bustling Tokyo of the 21st century they knew, but instead modest and filled with traditional culture and beauty.
"This is... weird. Last time I saw Tokyo, it looked nothing like this," Hamilton said, bewildered by the nostalgic, anachronistic atmosphere.
"Yes. Feels like we were thrown into time travel," Luna agreed readily. "But since we confirmed that it was the 1940s, it kinda is."
Unlike the two, who were experiencing historical whiplash, Braunschweig was having a visible mental breakdown, fearing that Germany in this world was the same as Earth's 1940s Germany.
"Would it be the same for Germany?" he asked quietly, almost fearing the answer, his voice barely a whisper.
Both JS Izumo and JS Maya exchanged quick, discreet glances. They were careful with that particular topic, fearing the answers he was seeking might slightly aggravate him. Like him, they too had problems facing a few hardliners within the Sakura Empire. They couldn't entirely blame them, as these individuals still held the same mentality as the historical Japanese Empire.
But Zumwalt, in his characteristic bluntness, had to speak the truth, breaking the strained silence.
"Yes. Iron Blood may be exactly the same as your Germany—but your presence here won't change that fundamental reality. You'll have to accept it."
He delivered it in his typical dry, emotionless tone, sounding like he was stating objective facts rather than offering some comforting diversion from a harsh reality.
Braunschweig swallowed hard, visibly forcing himself to accept the difficult truth. He couldn't do a thing to change Iron Blood's past or present with mere words.
JS Izumo, trying to alleviate Braunschweig's trepidation and redirect the conversation, discreetly looked at his phone. Checking the time, he saw they still had plenty of time to attend dinner at Yamato's Mansion.
"Say... Would you all like to attend a dinner tonight?" JS Izumo asked, smiling warmly, trying to inject some cheer. "We've been invited to Mistress Yamato's Mansion."
"It's also good timing to meet everyone else in the Sakura Empire's leadership," JS Maya added, reinforcing the invitation.
Hamilton, being the natural leader of their group, responded after a moment of consideration. "Yes. That would be an opportune time for us to properly introduce ourselves to the rest of the leadership."
Luna chimed in eagerly, rubbing his belly with an audible rumble. "Yeah, it better be. I'm kinda hungry."
Braunschweig nodded slowly, the offer a welcome distraction. The idea of food and meeting new people might help him keep his thoughts off 1940s Germany and focus on the present. "Ja, I too am kinda hungry."
Hamilton held his hand to his head dramatically, as if acting in a theater play. "Hah... I can't believe you two have the same grumbling stomach. Well, we haven't had a proper meal since we got here. I'll certainly take that offer; it'll be a better priority to maintain our health and morale."
Luna wore a face of having had quite enough of his posh undertone. "Dude, can you at least say normally that you're hungry without all the theatrics?"
The group chuckled, the tension easing slightly as they followed JS Izumo and JS Maya toward the waiting car, a shared sense of anticipation settling in.
Yamato's Estate
The three Frigates stared up, mouths agape, as they were greeted by an imposing, large wooden door. But nothing quite beat Luna's unbridled enthusiasm about the exquisitely detailed, otherworldly Japanese aesthetic of the estate. Then the door opened, revealing a line of impeccably dressed house servants who bowed in unison to greet them.
"Whoa-ho...! This feels like fantasy!" Luna enthusiastically shrieked, his eyes wide with wonder.
"This is just a formal greeting, Luna," Hamilton reminded him, trying to sound a bit stern, not quite fond of Luna's unabashed "weeb" side.
"Yamato must be incredibly wealthy to even have her own castle," Braunschweig remarked, impressed by the sheer scale and grandeur.
Awaiting them at the threshold was Souryuu, resplendent in a green floral kimono (Souryuu: Crane amidst the Pines).
She bowed deeply—her hands gracefully placed at her thighs, spine perfectly aligned—then rose and extended an arm inward, a gesture of welcome.
"You honor us with your presence. Please, this way."
The Frigates followed, conscientiously removing their shoes as per tradition, and offered a quick, somewhat clumsy bow in return. The hallway stretched on, meticulously framed with ornate calligraphy scrolls, soft paper lamps casting a warm glow, and polished wooden floors that gleamed underfoot.
Like experiencing a fever dream, Luna looked left and right, his head swiveling constantly as they passed sliding doors after sliding doors in the seemingly endless corridor. In front of them was a particularly grand sliding door adorned with vibrant murals depicting the might and power of the Yamato-class. Waves crashed violently, and battleships sailed majestically upon the waves—a magnificent tapestry of naval power rendered in exquisite ink and gilded strokes.
The doors parted slowly and gently as the servants pulled them aside with practiced grace.
Inside, seated cross-legged at low tables, were the most prominent figures of the Sakura Empire. Every movement was measured, every gaze heavy with the undeniable weight of command. The Frigates hesitated for a moment—uncertain how to properly respond to such an august gathering.
Enterprise-80 was seated prominently beside the host, being the designated guest of honor, her eyes fixed keenly on the arriving Frigates. She compared the first one, Hamilton, who looked to her like a kid lost in a school play, to Lafayette. She surmised that he was a Constellation Class, according to the brief report she had received.
She glanced at the one on the right, Luna, and based on the distinct clothes he wore, he was clearly the Filipino one, with a reputation for a short temper General. Yet, the face she saw now was that of a child gleaming with pure joy, as if he had truly stepped into a fantasy world. In truth, he effectively had.
Then she observed the last one, Braunschweig. He looked like a kid dragged unwillingly out of a historical reenactment, clearly wanting no part of it. She could also clearly see the fear in his eyes, anxious and profoundly uneasy.
Beside her was Yamato, the very person who had orchestrated such a significant event.
With innate grace, she rose from her seat, her kimono gleaming with intricately etched gold strands embroidered to depict the sun, and golden flames that represented the life-giving rays of light that graced the land of Sakura, a divine blessing of the Sun Goddess Amaterasu herself.
"Ah... esteemed Frigates of another world," she said with serene dignity, her voice warm and welcoming. "Welcome to my humble home."
She gestured with open palms, her wide sleeves trailing elegantly like the delicate wings of a crane in flight.
"I trust your journey was not too exhausting. Might I have the honor of learning your names?" she asked, her voice like a soft, melodious bell ringing gently through the tranquil air of the room.
Hamilton, ever the gentleman, introduced himself first, bearing an aristocratic aura and refined demeanor. His hand placed over his left chest, over his heart, he executed a perfect bow.
"I humbly thank your warm welcome, Lady Yamato, at your humble abode. I, Hamilton—Alexander Hamilton, 5th of the Constellation Class Frigate of the formidable United States Navy."
Everyone in the room whispered among each other, the rumors about Lafayette's achievements suddenly making sense now that they had met his brother. The whispers caught his attention; he had heard of his brother's achievements, but didn't expect them to be this profound or widely known.
Next to introduce himself was Luna. He bowed with what little knowledge he had of traditional Japanese culture. His bow was a bit shaky, but he still managed to introduce himself properly and respectfully.
"My name is Antonio Luna, 2nd of the Jose Rizal Class Frigate of the Philippine Navy."
The last to introduce himself was Braunschweig. He bowed courteously, like the other two. "The name is Braunschweig, Deutsche Marine."
With the formalities complete, Souryuu and a small, efficient team of attendants guided the newly introduced guests to their designated seats. At their table, they were served exquisite delicacies, dishes typically reserved only for the elites, or found in the most luxurious, high-end restaurants.
As Yamato conversed animatedly with the Frigates in a friendly, almost eager manner, Musashi had to discreetly intervene, gently reminding her sister about the proper decorum expected of a host. Enterprise-80 watched the interaction, and silently thanked the gods that she wasn't being bothered by Yamato's constant enthusiasm about the modern world and her unassuming, almost childlike fangirling.
Frigate Belfast leaned in closer to Enterprise-80 and whispered softly. "Lady Yamato appears to be thoroughly enjoying herself."
Enterprise-80 let out a muted sigh, barely audible between sips of her tea, a hint of weariness in the sound.
"Yes. I'd prefer she keeps her attention off of me, though. I really hate the constant curiosity—it's like dealing with an overly enthusiastic fangirl."
Yamato's flamboyant nature and fangirling had clashed with her serious nature. Having her attention change a bit it gave her some space to breath.
Amagi, seated serenely beside her, chimed in with a gentle smile. "Yamato-chan is but a curious child just wanting to talk to you, Miss Enterprise. You just have to be patient with that." she said, muffling a soft giggle with her kimono sleeves as she gracefully ate a piece of sushi.
"As long as she doesn't tail me like a stalker again," Enterprise-80 uttered in a low voice, a distinct tinge of dry humor in her tone.
Amagi chuckled softly, covering her laugh with her kimono sleeves, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "I suppose I will have to keep a closer eye on that odd behavior of hers.... I'm almost too far gone to catch up to their antics now, it seems."
Both Enterprise-80 and Frigate Belfast exchanged a quick, deadpan look. They both knew Amagi's methods of "keeping watch on things" all too well. In short, she was famously tidy when it came to misbehaving foxes, or anyone, for that matter.
Amagi might present herself as a soft and kind sister, both inside and out, but beneath that gently warm smile and angelic, ethereal aura was a dormant, demon that few ever wished to awaken.
...
Morning
The morning came gently, the sun still hidden beneath the horizon. Luna stretched as he woke up early, followed shortly by Braunschweig. Hamilton, however, was soundly asleep like a princess, curled up royally in his neatly arranged futon.
Luna rolled his eyes.
"Still out cold... Must be nice."
Not bothering to wake him, Luna and Braunschweig slipped into their uniforms and headed out toward the docks. The air was still cool, the sky painted in a pre-dawn gray-blue, and only a few seagulls cried mournfully above.
Both Frigates visited the dock where Ning Hai's ship was undergoing repairs.
Ning Hai's ship had been utterly repaired in record time; the hole was seamlessly patched, the damaged armor was replaced, and the forward turret was now fully operational. The initial damage wasn't critically severe, but the sustained hits had been enough to significantly hinder Ning Hai's fighting capability.
Ning Hai and Ping Hai weren't at the docks to personally oversee the repairs. Ning Hai was injured and currently resting in the infirmary; Ping Hai was diligently watching over her sister as she recovered.
"That was a quick repair, and the hole was patched perfectly," Braunschweig said, utterly surprised by the efficiency.
"Just minor damage, but... only one night and the hole where it was struck is completely gone," Luna added, a hint of jest in his tone at the apparent magic of the repairs.
As Braunschweig yawned, he caught a glimpse of someone walking at the harbor, conducting his own early morning patrols. The man was vigilant, keenly aware of anything surrounding him that could be seen or felt; his sharp senses told another story entirely.
"Hey, isn't that Zumwalt?" Braunschweig pointed, his voice hushed. "He's early."
"What?!" Luna squinted, straining his eyes. "I barely saw him and didn't even notice his presence."
Zumwalt walked toward them, his footsteps unnaturally unheard, his presence utterly undetected, yet they saw him clearly approaching. Then, he spoke, his voice low and even.
"It's too early for you two to be awake this time."
"We—we didn't know you were here too? Wha—what exactly were you doing?" Luna asked, a hint of trepidation in his voice, unnerved by the unsensed presence emanating from Zumwalt.
Zumwalt, a man of silence with an almost undetectable presence, stood in front of them, questioning them as if there were a strict curfew in place that day.
"Doing my job," he said, his tone calm and serious, offering no further explanation.
Then, as if summoned by his very presence, the sun finally broke over the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant hues.
Golden rays cut sharply across the harbor, casting long, distorted shadows and bathing the ships—and the three of them—in a soft, ethereal orange light. The moment held a profound stillness. No sound but the gentle lapping of waves against the docks and the distant, mournful cries of gulls.
Zumwalt, as always, stood like a phantom bathed in the new light—unmistakably present, yet somehow not fully there, an enigma.
....
The Sakuran Library
As the morning light filtered through the paper screens, Zumwalt stepped into the Sakuran Library — a grand, tranquil structure whose endless shelves held the accumulated knowledge of centuries. The scent of aged paper and cedar wood filled the air, and the faint sound of wind chimes echoed from the courtyard beyond. Every shelf brimmed with books about history, ancient lore, philosophy, and martial disciplines long thought forgotten.
Guided by quiet curiosity, Zumwalt followed the section that drew his attention the most — the corner where history and legend intertwined. His gloved fingers brushed along the spines of old tomes until they halted upon a single volume bound in black and gold. Its title gleamed faintly in the morning light.
"The Book of Musashi."
He muttered the words softly to himself, almost reverently.
"The god of storms... Musashi."
For a moment, silence reigned — until it was broken by the not-so-subtle whispers and footsteps of the three curious Frigates who had decided to follow him. Their excitement practically radiated across the serene hall. Luna, in particular, couldn't stop making spontaneous remarks about the books and décor — not in the way of a loud Western tourist, but rather like an eager scholar who had finally found the temple of his obsession.
"This section's about sword skills and ancient techniques," Hamilton said, a hint of amusement in his tone as he skimmed a few pages.
"Ja," Braunschweig replied, his accent soft as he flipped open a thick volume filled with illustrations of birds native to the Sakura Empire. "It's complex... but look at this art. The birds are adorable — so round, so perfectly drawn." His eyes gleamed like a child's as he studied the sketches.
Meanwhile, Luna's attention drifted rapidly from one shelf to another, making appreciative commentary on the culture, though he didn't quite act like an annoying Western tourist—just a geek unable to contain his enthusiasm.
Searching for an introductory text on swordsmanship. Then, something caught his eye — and his imagination.
"Whoa! This looks like a 'Water Breathing Technique' to me!" he exclaimed, his voice echoing through the quiet hall.
Braunschweig looked up sharply, blinking in disbelief. "It exists?" he asked, genuinely intrigued.
Hamilton turned immediately, his tone flat but firm. "Fool. No such thing as a 'Water Breathing Technique' exists."
Luna smirked and crossed his arms. "We're in another world, remember? I'm taking my chances. You never know."
"Well, you won't," Hamilton retorted, exasperated.
Their chatter rippled through the still air, catching Zumwalt's attention. His ear twitched slightly — the only sign that they'd disturbed his peace.
Without turning, he spoke in a low, even voice. "Why must you tag along? Your presence stirs the silence of this place."
Luna puffed up his chest, brash and unbothered. "You don't have to act like we're insects under your boot, you know."
That earned Zumwalt's full gaze — a sharp, cold glance that could cut through layers of armor. "What do you want?" he asked simply.
"I'm here for the same reason you are," Luna said, shrugging. "To learn. To get closer to the spirit of this culture — the Samurai, the foxes, the cool stuff!"
With that, he swung his hand through the air dramatically and made a loud whoosh sound, mimicking a sword strike.
Hamilton and Braunschweig froze, their expressions twisted in disbelief and mild horror.
'Have you lost your mind?!' they thought in unison.
Hamilton quickly grabbed Luna by the collar. "You're acting like a clown in front of Him— the man they call the Calm Before the Storm! You'll regret that! You don't want to see his wrath!"
Zumwalt shut the Musashi book with a deliberate *thump*.
"You seek culture..." he said, voice low and measured. "Our priorities differ — greatly."
Before the tension could thicken, another presence entered the scene.
From behind the trio emerged JS Izumo, his expression apologetic and a little weary. "Ah, sorry for being late. I got tied up with... something important," he said, scratching the back of his neck. Lately, he had been preoccupied with tending to Kaga — whose temper and stubbornness made even feeding her feel like brokering a ceasefire.
Zumwalt turned, his sternness softening slightly. "You're fine. I'm the one who asked you to show me this place. You have your duties."
JS Izumo gave a polite nod, his tails flicking lightly behind him. "Still, you've been early. My apologies regardless."
Then, his gaze dropped to the book tucked under Zumwalt's arm. "So, found what you were looking for?"
Zumwalt lifted the volume. "Yes. I didn't expect it to be this cryptic, but the longer I read, the more it made sense."
JS Izumo stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You could've chosen other sword manuals, but you went with Musashi's teachings."
"It matches my ... power," Zumwalt said simply.
"Right," JS Izumo replied, nodding with approval. "That suits you — you call upon the lightning, after all."
The conversation was light and respectful, but the mood subtly shifted when Izumo added, "Though... you could always ask Lady Musashi herself about those techniques. She wouldn't mind being your sensei."
Zumwalt's expression darkened, a shadow falling over his eyes. He clearly disliked the suggestion of being under anyone's tutelage — especially one of the Fox-Women.
"I'll pass," he said, his voice like steel. "I'd rather teach myself than be anywhere near them."
Hamilton tilted his head. "What's wrong with foxes? Izumo's a fox too."
"It's not that," JS Izumo interjected quickly, smiling awkwardly. "After what happened yesterday, Zumwalt-san's become quite... popular among women. If he got seen around any of the Fox-Women, the rumors would spread faster than wildfire."
"I must avoid that at all costs," Zumwalt declared flatly, as if sealing a vow. He would miss his supply if he did.
Luna, ever curious, leaned in. "Is that why you skipped Yamato's dinner party last night?"
Silence fell — sharp and sudden, like a blade sliding into its sheath.
Before anyone could speak again, a voice drifted through the corridor — soft, pleading. It belonged to someone following behind another, urging her to rest and not return to the library so soon.
"Lady Yamato, I advise you to rest and not strain your body with such a task," Souryuu's voice echoed through the wooden corridor, her polished shoes clicking crisply against the floorboards.
Yamato walked ahead, her arms full of neatly stacked books that towered to her chin. She replied without slowing her pace, her tone light but firm.
"My little sister insists I stay in bed, but I can't keep doing that. Lying still, pretending to be fragile—it's suffocating. These past few weeks, the walls of my room have felt smaller and smaller. I need air. I need space."
Souryuu followed closely, exhaling through her nose with resigned patience. "Yes, you're right, Ma'am. But that doesn't mean you can simply escape without Lady Musashi's permission."
Yamato's ruby eyes glinted with quiet defiance as she looked over her shoulder. "I do as I please."
With that, she turned into one of the deeper library aisles, intent on fetching more books from the higher shelves. But fate, as always, had a mischievous hand in her path.
As she rounded the corner, she and Souryuu came across Zumwalt, JS Izumo, and the three curious Frigates.
For a heartbeat, time seemed to hold still.
Yamato's lips curved faintly into a knowing smirk — not one of mockery, but of recognition. Of all places to meet, it had to be here. Her presence radiated warmth and quiet dignity, a golden aura that filled the space around her like morning sunlight.
But to Zumwalt, that warmth was more like a warning flame.
By sheer misfortune — or perhaps divine jest — he always found himself crossing paths with women in crimson. Despite his best efforts to avoid them, the Sakura Empire's population seemed overwhelmingly painted in red. In this land, his odds of running into one were at least ninety out of a hundred.
"Good morning," Yamato greeted gracefully, her tone soft yet commanding enough to prompt immediate responses from the others.
"Good morning!" Luna replied first, with the enthusiasm of a student greeting his teacher. Hamilton and Braunschweig followed suit, bowing slightly in respect. JS Izumo offered a small nod and polite smile.
Zumwalt, however, remained silent.
Yamato's gaze lingered on him, her polite smile turning into one of mild amusement — a silent expectation. She didn't need to speak to draw his reaction, her presence alone pressed for one.
Sensing the awkwardness, JS Izumo cleared his throat lightly and interjected in between, "I believe he means 'good morning,' too, Lady Yamato."
Souryuu bowed apologetically for the sudden intrusion. "My apologies for interrupting your discussion. Lady Yamato insisted on venturing here."
JS Izumo waved it off casually. "No harm done. This library welcomes all curious minds."
While their exchange remained courteous on the surface, an unspoken tension brewed beneath the politeness.
Yamato's radiant morning smile gradually softened, her eyes sharpening with intent. Her voice took on a quieter, heavier tone.
"I've heard you possess quite the talent with a blade..."
The words hung in the air, calm yet challenging.
Zumwalt's demeanor shifted subtly — his shoulders straightened, his grip tightened, and his gaze dropped to the weapon at his side, the Judgement Blade. Its faint hum resonated with his heartbeat.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low, deliberate, and unwavering.
"I'm not captivated."
The refusal landed like a hammer in the silent hall. Yamato's expression did not falter, but her eyes glimmered with a spark — intrigue, perhaps... or the thrill of meeting someone unbent by authority.
The silence that followed Zumwalt's words was heavy — not awkward, but dense with meaning. Dust motes drifted lazily through the morning light, glinting between them like suspended sparks.
Yamato's expression didn't break. Her smile, faint yet unreadable, remained steady as if carved in porcelain. To anyone else, his refusal might have seemed disrespectful. But she saw something else — an unyielding will that mirrored her own.
Souryuu tensed beside her mistress, ready to intervene. "Lady Yamato—"
A simple wave of Yamato's hand stopped her cold. "It's all right, Souryuu."
Her gaze never left Zumwalt. She shifted her weight slightly, the soft rustle of her kimono blending with the faint whisper of paper as nearby scrolls stirred in the breeze.
"You misunderstand me," she said, her voice calm and dignified. "I wasn't proposing a duel, nor questioning your ability. I merely wanted to see the conviction behind your strength."
Zumwalt's eyes flicked upward, studying her carefully. "Conviction doesn't need an audience."
"True," she replied gently, "but it speaks through action. The blade may be silent, yet it reveals the heart of its wielder."
The trio of Frigates exchanged glances.
Hamilton leaned closer to Braunschweig and whispered, "Is it just me, or is the temperature rising?"
Braunschweig nodded, his voice low. "It's not just you."
Luna's excitement was palpable — the air between Yamato and Zumwalt felt electric, like two storms brushing against each other without yet clashing.
"It feels like Philippine Weather, its sunny – yet stormy." He whispered.
Zumwalt exhaled quietly. "I've read the text of the 'Book of Musashi'. The blade exists for judgment — not for spectacle."
Yamato's eyes softened, but her interest only deepened. "Then you've understood it well. Still, judgment and spectacle are not so easily separated. A warrior strength inspires those beneath them — even when they never draw their sword."
JS Izumo chuckled lightly, stepping between them with the practiced grace of a mediator. "Lady Yamato enjoys testing people through conversation. You'll find her words cut as sharp as her sword."
"Do they?" Zumwalt asked, his tone neutral but edged.
Yamato tilted her head slightly, her smile returning. "Do mine cut, or do they reveal?"
She took a slow step forward, closing the distance by a pace — no threat, only poise. "You wield lightning, do you not? Then surely you understand that destruction and illumination come from the same force. It all depends on where you strike."
( IMAGE )
Zumwalt met her gaze, unblinking. The air between them felt charged, as though the faint hum of electricity truly lingered in the quiet hall.
Finally, he gave a small nod. "Perhaps," he said simply.
Yamato let the silence hang for a moment longer before turning away. "Good. Then perhaps one day, you'll demonstrate what words cannot."
She glanced at Souryuu. "We should return before my dear Musashi boils like a steam pot, if I linger too much outside."
"As you wish, Ma'am," Souryuu said with relief, eager to end the tension.
Yamato gave a parting glance to Zumwalt, her tone softening just enough to carry a trace of warmth.
"Until next time... 'Judgement Blade'."
And with that, she departed down the long aisle of books, the gentle sway of her sleeves leaving a faint perfume of cherry blossoms in the air.
The group remained silent for a moment after her exit.
Luna was the first to break it. "You know," he whispered, "for someone who says he doesn't want to get involved with Fox-Women, you're doing a terrible job at avoiding them."
Hamilton sighed. "You're going to get us all killed."
"Here where the brave and dumb dies." Muttered Braunschweig
JS Izumo laughed quietly under his breath, his tails flicking once. "In this empire, fate has a strange sense of humor."
Zumwalt slid the Musashi book back under his arm, his gaze fixed where Yamato had disappeared.
"Fate," he muttered, "has a bad habit of testing my patience."