Tomorrow is Sacred Construction Day, and whether one has the aptitude to become a commander can be tested on the spot.
Kuramoto Hikaru tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep even by midnight.
Since he couldn't sleep, he simply sat up, threw on a jacket, and grabbed a worn copy of the Shipgirl Compendium from his desk. The edges were frayed from overuse.
After the demonic tide mutation, even though Hikaru had once been an invincible swordsman, unable to cultivate in this new era, he could no longer find a place for himself in the changing world.
He had to adapt to the new age.
This was now the era of shipgirls.
Modern human civilization had developed atop the ruins of the one before. Research suggests that a force of unimaginable magnitude tore the planet apart and directly obliterated the Old World.
Yet fragments of knowledge had survived in scattered records, forming the foundation of the new human civilization.
While preserving the flame of civilization, remnants of its dangers also endured. The deep-sea shipgirls of the endless oceans swept across the world-islands. Corrupted by dark forces, sea monsters and abominations lurked with predatory intent. Humanity lived under the constant threat of these invaders.
Today's world could be described as a "world-island"—not a spherical planet, but a collection of floating islands adrift in the universe. The physical laws Kuramoto Hikaru once understood had clearly been twisted by some supernatural power.
Now, humanity occupied three major continents: the Eastern Continent, the Western Continent, and the New World. These landmasses were surrounded by endless seas. Only the coastal waters near the land were blue. Beyond that lay the inky-black oceans—the territory of the deep-sea shipgirls.
Thanks to the protection of shipgirls, humanity's new civilization had managed to survive for three thousand years. Even so, humanity still lost more often than it won against the deep-sea forces. Australia, New Zealand, and Africa had already fallen over the centuries of warfare. Rumor had it the deep-sea girls had built their own cities on land and under the sea, enslaving billions of humans.
Humanity's continued retreat could be explained by the very nature of their enemy: deep-sea shipgirls were born from the fear, pain, and despair of sentient beings. They were curses left by the dead for the living.
Negative emotions are always more enduring.
By contrast, shipgirls—the counterparts of the deep-sea—were seen as incarnations of all things beautiful. They embodied passion, hope, joy, and light: the very essence of positive energy.
But in some sense, these supernatural beings may also have slowed humanity's advance toward scientific progress.
Hikaru folded the book to the page featuring an illustration of Deep-Sea Tirpitz, then retrieved a mirror-like object from beneath his pillow and turned it over in his hands.
The general level of technology in the New World roughly mirrored the year 2000 of his previous life—but there were strange discrepancies. Some areas boasted black technologies even Hikaru had to admire. Others were laughably primitive.
Take mobile phones, for example.
The object in Hikaru's hand was one. But in this era, even early-gen cell phones were rare—let alone smartphones with touchscreens.
Part of the reason was environmental. Communication signals were constantly interfered with by the corrupted magnetic fields of this world. There were no satellites, and signals relied mostly on wired transmission and massive signal towers.
Naturally, Hikaru's phone wasn't from this era.
It had crossed time and space with him during his reincarnation—a relic of the Old World and the only keepsake he had left.
But it no longer worked.
Hikaru had tried to charge it, but the device seemed completely fried. Now it served only as a sentimental token.
As he gently rubbed the smooth screen, he remembered something: there had been a shipgirl-related game installed on it.
Three thousand years ago, he had also been a commander. Well… just a commander in a game.
Thinking about the past only brought pain. Every ordinary day he recalled from that previous life stabbed at his heart.
Because those days were lost forever.
As the poet Shiraha once said: The days gone by cannot be retained.
Hikaru grabbed a half-empty bottle of baijiu from the table, unscrewed the cap, and took a deep swig.
Only then could he hope for a few hours of rest.
…
As dawn broke, at the city's Shipgirl Affairs Bureau, a tiny girl with oversized round glasses strained as she dragged a sluggish man forward.
"Commander, hurry up! It's Sacred Construction Day!"
The man wiped his bleary eyes with the sleeve of his wrinkled uniform. "Don't rush me… Yaaawn… Your dear admiral can't fall asleep without the sound of cannonfire anymore. Only a little alcohol numbs me enough to get a nap. Just two hours of sleep, and now you drag me out here—well, even so, two hours of rest is a luxury. You don't get that at the front…"
He spoke while stealing glances at the stylish female soldiers around them.
One of the soldiers walking ahead couldn't help showing a bit of admiration. It was said that many soldiers developed PTSD after witnessing too much death and danger. As inappropriate as it might sound, such scars were considered badges of honor among veterans.
Of course, more importantly, the man she was looking at wore the rank of Junior Marshal—his golden insignia shining bright.
The little girl dragging him wore a red jacket and blue skirt. Her hair was done up into two large buns on either side of her head. Her round glasses covered most of her face. Her little legs pumped hard under her white tights as she tugged him forward—adorably determined.
Had Hikaru been here, he would've recognized her immediately.
She was the same little girl who had recently given a lecture at their school—the shipgirl who inherited the name of the Fletcher-class destroyer USS William D. Porter.
Miss Wilhelmina glanced at her commander and scowled.
"You're full of hot air. You weren't resting—you were slacking off in bed, doing bad things! Then you made me help you out, you naughty commanding officer!"
…Gross!
The staff nearby showed visible discomfort.
The man suddenly straightened, slapped his own face, and smacked the little shipgirl on the head. "Lies! You need to explain yourself! I was just reading a novel! I didn't do anything bad!"
Wilhelmina puffed up her cheeks, pasted a tiny fake mustache on her upper lip, and blew air out with a "hmph."
"Also, Commander, you're a total pervert! Not only did you give a ring to someone as small as me, you weren't even satisfied—you kept pushing for 'that kind of thing!'"
The man panicked and grabbed her, shaking her frantically. "Hey! Don't say stuff like that, people will misunderstand! You'll get me sent to the military police! Wilhelmina, don't do this to me!!"
Wilhelmina crossed her little arms and let out a proud snort.
The man turned to the staff, pleading desperately. "You believe me, right?! I'm not some pervert who targets little girls!"
The staff member gave him a polite but clearly uncomfortable smile and pointed ahead toward the plaza. "Marshal Kamizawa, the Governor is already waiting. Please proceed inside quickly."
Without waiting for a reply, the staffer turned and hurried away—his retreating figure looked suspiciously like a full-on escape.
Truly, Marshal Kamizawa was a prime example of how someone could remain single well into middle age for a reason.
"Wilhelmina…" he muttered darkly, glaring at her. "You framed me again."
Sensing her commanding officer's vengeance closing in, Wilhelmina quickly ducked out of reach, sticking out her tongue and laughing. "Bleeeh! I wasn't targeting you specifically, Commander. You know me—I only level up by backstabbing allies! And you're the only one I've got."
"No excuses! This time, I'm really going to spank you! Don't run!"