The NHK broadcast from Yokosuka, which took place earlier during the day, had her glued to the screen, and she couldn't look away. No, it wasn't Jerry in full service khaki that had her so rapt, or the way he seemed to exude a sense of calm even amid the press clamoring for answers before he could even speak.
Yes, it was somewhat odd, but refreshing to see him as Captain Halsey again, and the three women behind him were the ones that caught her eye.
Made her heart and mind race, and her mouth go dry.
Essex was, as expected, soldier-like and stoic, standing at attention like not even a tsunami could knock her over. Saratoga provided a stark contrast, beaming like the sunshine she always was, life and cheeriness rolling off her in waves. Yet, the last one, the white-haired beauty, whose full lips curved into a ghost of a smile, sharp and unkind and mirthless, left her reeling in bewilderment. Who could she be? She couldn't recall anyone looking like her within their ranks.
But that soon became irrelevant when he finally spoke.
A few pleasant words, rehearsed, clean, and clear. She could feel the undercurrent of warmth, and something else. And then—
"...The United States is deeply grateful for the Japanese government's aid in this endeavor. As a democracy, we have always believed in freedom and liberty, and there are voices back home that believe the same principles should extend to our KANSENs..."
Wait. Could she be imagining it? Did he just say—
"...and recently, the voices have grown louder. We are not one to ignore what the people want..."
She ignored the snort and the muffled laugh and listened even more carefully.
"...and hence, the Congress is considering a bill to grant them the same rights as human citizens, just like Japan and the United Kingdom have done..."
This. This was what she had been hoping for for her sister-in-arms, wasn't it? No more weapons, no more tools. Just people. Just girls. Just people, free to live, free to laugh, free to cry. Free to be. It was never easy, but Atago, Takao, Shoukaku, Zuikaku, and all the ghosts of the Imperial Navy had persevered—no reason to believe her sisters wouldn't be able to do the same.
"...And while such a bill is being deliberated, the United States Navy is keen to see how well such an arrangement would work. And so, we have decided to station a select group of KANSENs here in Japan on a...trial basis, to see them integrate with society..."
The door opened, and in came Belfast, as prim as ever. She took Jerry's usual spot. He wasn't coming tonight, she remembered, and while she felt somewhat disappointed, she understood why.
"Oh, this," Belfast said as she noticed the news. "Everyone in the Embassy was talking about it earlier."
"Really? What did they say?"
Belfast sipped the water she offered before answering. "Well, mostly some sense of superiority over beating America to the punch, I must admit. Yet some are hopeful, too."
Right. Of course, Uncle Sam didn't like being second. He had to prove that his way was the better one.
"And I must say, a rather curious choice, to include that one."
Belfast was talking about the white-haired woman; she knew. Then perhaps she could ask this.
"Do you...Do you know who she is?"
"Hm...I believe she's Prinz Eugen. I'm certain you know her ship was transferred to American custody after the war, but I didn't expect the KANSEN to be included in the transfer. I take it you both never met."
Her mouth felt drier. Indeed, they had never met. But she knew what became of the ship. Not lost in battle, but the storm of "progress."
An undignified end, reminiscent of her own.
If Saratoga's chipper demeanor suggested that she was over the loss of her own ship, Prinz Eugen's smile told a different story. Or perhaps, more precisely, none at all.
"No, we never met. But I heard of her...of the tests..." she told Belfast after gathering herself. Belfast gave the TV a look. The camera had zoomed in on Eugen.
"I suppose the irony of being involved in another test, regardless of purpose, wasn't lost on her. But perhaps that was the reason she was chosen. To give her a chance. After all, the United Kingdom's integration program had given asylum to the Republic of China's KANSENs who fled to Hong Kong and Singapore instead of Taiwan, too. I'd like to believe that."
Belfast sounded like she believed it, but still, her words were carefully measured like someone who had seen enough to be hopeful but not naive.
Jerry had finished speaking. The camera lingered on the three of them a moment longer before cutting to the more recent news. She changed the channel and slid Belfast her order. The conversation turned to lighter things. Yet she could not shake the feeling.
"You're troubled."
"Just thinking," she replied. "What would it be like, for them?"
"I cannot say how Captain Halsey will...handle this, but he seems to have your best interests at heart. Won't you put faith in him?"
That was a good question.
***
She wasn't really expecting any visitors on this particular day off, and at this hour, she didn't think anyone would come. The broadcast from two days ago was making a buzz. Atago, excitable as always, didn't think twice about announcing plans to welcome the trio, should it ever cross their minds to visit, with "the grandest party the place has ever seen." Takao, in a rare bout of agreement, didn't argue.
It didn't occur to them—thoughts about "former enemies" or anything else, which was good. But they had yet to show up, and there were scant details beyond what they already saw on TV. She wasn't going to hold her breath.
But then came a knock. For the first time ever, someone actually knocked on the door. One, two raps, coming across as tentative. She and Grim looked at each other.
"Coming!" she called out, making sure to wipe her hands on her apron. They immediately became damp again, or so it seemed, when she opened the door to find herself face-to-face with Prinz Eugen herself. She was even more striking in person, apparently.
The same smile still graced her features, but up close, her amber eyes seemed to be scanning her, looking right through her, a glint of amusement in them, as if she was privy to a joke she wasn't.
"Why, hello," she said, her voice a low, melodious purr with an accent that was distinct but not jarring. "Is this the...famous 'Minato?'" She said the name as if tasting it.
Whether or not Eugen actually noticed that she wasn't open for the day was a mystery, but she had a feeling she did and just didn't care. Or perhaps she simply forgot to hang the sign. Such gaffes had become increasingly common lately. Maybe she was becoming complacent because regulars were familiar with the schedule, or she was too preoccupied. Or maybe, she just forgot.
But it was irrelevant now. She found herself nodding, her throat tight.
"Y-yes. Uh, come in."
She opened the door wider by instinct, and that's when she saw him. An officer had just emerged from a parked car across the street. A young one. An Ensign.
Too new to have lost his shine, his cap a size too big, posture so straight it looked painful. Survived Annapolis, but yet to be worn down by duty.
If she had to guess, he was a minder for the KANSEN. Maybe he drew the short straw, or it was some orientation.
He saluted before he could think better of it. "Ma'am. Ensign Collins, U.S. Navy. I'm assigned to accompany—"
"—the guest who just knocked on my door," she finished for him, one brow arched. The officer flushed, his eyes darting between her and the shipgirl who was already halfway through the door.
"Y-yes, ma'am," his voice cracked a little, and she wondered if he was familiar with KANSENs. Perhaps not. "She's, uh, under observation for the duration of her stay, like the rest. Orders."
"I see," she rested a shoulder against the frame. "And if she steps inside?"
He hesitated. "Then I suppose I'm supposed to, too."
Her expression softened, the faintest smile tugging at her mouth.
"Tell you what, Ensign. Right now, this isn't a business. It's my home. I can pick my own guests. Go around this city for a bit. It's not every day a service member gets to be a tourist. There is nobody else here. Just me."
He looked stricken. "Ma'am, if anything happens, it could, uh… reflect on Captain Halsey."
That earned a quiet laugh. "He'd own it. He always does."
"Uh..." The young man blinked.
"I'll vouch for her. And I can keep you posted. You have my word."
"Well..." He shifted his weight. The officer was so out of his depth that she could almost pity him.
Prinz Eugen turned in her direction, one perfect eyebrow slightly raised. "Am I going to cause an international incident?" she asked.
Ensign Collins seemed to shrink even more a little. "I just...my orders..."
"Ensign, don't let duty grind you down before it even gets a chance to. I've seen that happen. More times than you can count," she said. "Take the next two hours. This is a fine city. Don't go to Kabukichō if you value your career and wallet. Otherwise, the world is your oyster."
There was a long pause. She saw him weigh the orders in his head against her words, her reputation, and his own exhaustion. The latter won.
"...Yes, ma'am," he finally said, relaxing a fraction.
"Wait."
She went behind the counter, past a quizzical Eugen, took a bottle of Coke from the fridge, and brought it to him.
"For the road," she told him.
"Uh, thank you, ma'am," he said, taking the bottle despite the surprise. "Two hours."
He almost saluted again, seemed to think better of it, and turned to walk away.
"He seems...pleasantly pliable," Eugen remarked as she closed the door behind her. "Quite unlike people I used to know."
The disdain in her voice was so subtle she almost missed it.
"He's just doing his job," she said, turning to face her guest. There was no hiding from the other woman's gaze. It was sharp, analytical. And still that smile.
"His job, right..." Eugen repeated, stepping closer. Her eyes scanned the empty bar, the stools neatly placed upside down on the counter, the floor clean and swept...then stared at Grim, briefly, before turning to her.
"Hm? You are not actually open for business, are you?"
"No, but you are a special case," she replied. "And I'm not about to turn a guest away. What can I get for you, Prinz Eugen?"
"Just Eugen is fine. It's not like I'm a royal," she said, waving a palm in the most dismissive way she'd ever seen, before making her way to the bar counter and sliding onto a stool. "Your country seems allergic to that kind of royal nonsense. But if you are offering, you'd better have something strong...and let me pay for it."
"But you are..."
"Your guest. I know. But I don't like being indebted to people. It's...unhealthy," Eugen finished with a sigh, like a bored actress reciting her lines for the umpteenth time. "It's not like I'm penniless."
She figured that being hospitable could also extend to letting her do what she wanted. But she would not make a habit of it.
"Alright," she said. "What'll you have?"
"Do you have anything German?"
"No. Just Japanese brands," she replied, opening a cabinet. "Asahi, Kirin, Sapporo..."
"...And?"
"Yebisu."
"...That'll do," Eugen said with a nod.
She grabbed a glass and poured a draft from the tap. The head settled nicely. The amber liquid glistened in the light. She slid the glass over to her.
"Here you go."
Eugen took a sip. Then another.
"Hm. Not bad," she commented, looking at the glass. "Not bad at all. Better than that swill they had at the Embassy."
"I see," she replied, leaning against the counter behind her. "The Embassy, huh? Did you go there?"
"A formality. Your country's version of a welcome wagon, I suppose. They were...polite. Very polite. All smiles and pleasantries. It was almost sickening."
Eugen took another long sip, draining half the glass. She didn't say anything else for a moment, her gaze fixed on the emptiness.
"You don't talk much, do you?"
"I'm more of a listener," she answered.
"A listener," Eugen repeated, a smirk playing on her lips. "That's rare. Usually, people are so eager to run their mouths. Grand plans, big dreams, empty promises. It's all so...tedious. As if I care. But you...you're different. You're just...here."
"After everything...that's all I wanted to be," she said.
Eugen gave her a look. A long, searching look.
"Lucky you."
She wasn't sure how to respond to that. So she didn't. She waited for Eugen to finish her beer. It didn't take long.
"Another one?" she asked.
"Yes, please."
She refilled her glass. This time, Eugen drank it more slowly, savoring it.
"You drink?"
"...Not really? Why?"
"Because I'm going to have another one. And maybe a few more. And I'd rather not drink alone. It's...undignified."
She couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. It was like she was talking to a version of herself, from a different time, a different place.
But in the end, she decided to humor her.
"You could always talk to the others, you know. Saratoga, Essex."
"One's too...bubbly, and the other has a stick up her...ah, you know. Not my kind of people."
She wondered if she herself was Eugen's "kind of person." The thought was unsettling.
"I'll have a Coke."
"Suit yourself."
The second beer went down even slower. Eugen was starting to look a little more relaxed, the sharp edges of her smile softening.
"You know...for a bar run by a ship...it's not that bad. So Herr Kapitän wasn't kidding when he mentioned it."
"Herr Kapitän?"
"Captain Halsey. To me, he's 'Herr Kapitän.' It's...a habit," Eugen said. "He's an interesting man. A bit too...idealistic for my taste, but...interesting."
"He is," she agreed. "He's...a good man."
"Is he?" Eugen asked. "Well, I suppose that's the reason I'm on my best behavior. Mm, this Yebisu is surprisingly good. I can get used to it."
"You're here to behave?" she asked, a hint of skepticism in her voice. She didn't mean for it to come out like that, but it did.
Eugen laughed. It was a real laugh, not a smirk or a chuckle, but a genuine, throaty laugh.
"Of course not. I'm here to...observe. And be observed. That's what they all said. It's a trial, after all. We're a test case. An experiment. Sound familiar?"
She didn't want to mention it. No, she really didn't.
"An experiment..." Eugen continued. "Just...like the other one."
"We don't have to—"
"Talk about it?" Eugen finished for her. "No, I suppose we don't. But it's not like I can just...forget it. The loss of your other self. Lucky cruiser, they call me. Well, I don't feel very lucky. Do you?"
She didn't have an answer for that. She just stared at her own reflection in the dark liquid within the glass.
"See?" Eugen said. "That's why I like you. You get it. You don't try to...to comfort me with empty words. You don't try to...to understand. You just...listen. You're a good listener. A very good listener."
Eugen finished her second beer and pushed the glass towards her.
"Another one."
She poured it without a word. The third beer seemed to be the charm. Eugen's face was flushed, and her eyes were a little unfocused, but she was still...coherent. Mostly.
"Huh, look at me, rambling at a stranger. But a stranger is all I've got, I guess. But enough about that. Let's talk about something else."
"Like what?"
"Like you."
"Me?"
"Yes, you. The famous 'Enterprise'. The 'Grey Ghost'. The...hero," Eugen said, her voice dripping with a mix of sarcasm and something else. Envy? Admiration? It was hard to tell. "How did you end up across the Pacific anyway?"
It was inevitable, she guessed. Only a few people had asked her that, but she always felt a pang of unease whenever she had to explain, if only because it reminded her of how, no matter the stature or service, in the end, they were seen as assets, subject to the ebb and flow of political currents.
But there was kindness there, too, and she figured Eugen deserved that much. The truth.
"Just Mikasa-san and a few sympathetic officials in DC. She gave me a chance, and there were a few others who pushed for me to be allowed to go..."
As a refugee seeker, really. The word itself was so loaded. Not that she feared for anything in the States. But a refuge was indeed what she needed, and what she found. A place to be...just...a person.
Eugen hummed, a low, thoughtful sound.
"And only you...?"
'Why only her?'
Was this woman testing her? Challenging?
Did she think she'd never once feel the sting of that unfairness? Did she know that she'd spent nights awake wondering why she'd been plucked from that country, leaving her sisters to fend for themselves against a bureaucracy that saw them as baggage and not as beings with hopes and dreams? The guilt was a heavy cloak.
But maybe it was not a challenge. Maybe it was a question from a ship who'd never had anyone to ask for her.
"...Maybe if it was up to me, I'd have asked for all of them to come with me," she admitted quietly.
Eugen stared at her. The smirk was gone. Her eyes, now a little glassy from the beer, were wide with...surprise.
"Or do you think I've been here for long? I was only here for a year. For the longest time, I, too, was drifting in the dark. Trying to figure out...everything, like my sisters. Like you. Or maybe you think I don't understand losing your ship self? That I haven't been torn apart by bombs and torpedoes? That I never watched a sister die? That I never carried the ghosts of my own?"
She forced her mouth shut, breathing hard. She had not raised her voice, but the intensity was there. The room was quiet, save for the low hum of the refrigerator.
Grim, who had been observing from his spot by the counter, let out a soft, questioning squawk.
"...Hmph."
Eugen finally broke the silence. She finished her third beer in one long draught, then slammed the glass down on the counter, the sound echoing in the quiet room.
"Hah! That's more like it. There's the real you—not the saint, not the bartender, the fighter who survived."
Her voice, slurred as it was, was laced with a fierce, unexpected delight. The ghostly smile returned, but this time, it felt less like a facade and more like a twisted form of understanding. Eugen opened her mouth as if to speak, then paused, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. She shook her head, a small, almost imperceptible gesture.
"Alright," she said, her voice softer now, the edge of drunken bravado slightly blunted. Her head swayed just a little as she tried to meet her gaze before falling against her propped-up hand on the counter.
"Alright," she repeated, and then, with the air of someone settling a long-held debt: "Prost."
She lifted the glass, even though it was empty. It was a toast. To her. To them. She found herself mirroring the gesture with her own Coke, even though she hadn't planned to.
She mulled over offering the woman another round, but before she could decide, Eugen spoke again, her words now a slow, syrupy drawl.
"Was it worth it, Enterprise? The whole...becoming a person thing?"
The question hung in the air, heavier than the smell of stale beer. It wasn't a trap. It was genuine, a drunken plea for a roadmap from someone who'd already walked the path.
She thought about Mikasa's quiet lessons in tradition. She thought about the sumo ring, about the uchigake, about finding a kimarite. About Atago's outrageous life advice, Takao's poised instruction, Shoukaku's gentle nurturing and Zuikaku's passionate guiding of the next generation. Of Ayanami's gentle determination. Yamatani, Saejima-san, Clark, Kanzaki-san—all the humans who had taught her a little of something about life. She thought about the ache of her missing sisters, and the hope, however fragile, that bloomed from that pain.
"Yes," she said, her voice firm. "It's all worth it. All of it."
Eugen was quiet for a long moment, her finger tracing a pattern in the condensation on the counter. "I see," she finally murmured. "Can I have another?" she asked, looking up, her eyes pleading, for the first time, without a hint of guile or sarcasm.
But she shook her head gently. "I think you've had enough for today."
Eugen's shoulders slumped, a pout forming on her lips. It was a startlingly childish expression on her sharp, proud features. "Oh. I see. Just when I was starting to...like it here. Gee, I used to hold my liquor so much better."
"Perhaps you are becoming more...human, then," she offered softly. "I can give you water, if you'd like."
Eugen let out a short, breathy laugh, a sound more like a sigh. "Right. Water. I guess...that's what I need right now," she gestured with a limp hand. "Sure. Pour me a glass."
She filled a clean glass with ice and water from the tap, pushing it over. Eugen downed half of it in one go, then slumped further, her head resting in the crook of her arm on the counter, like a boneless doll. For a moment, she looked almost peaceful. The smile was gone, replaced by a weary blankness.
She moved away a bit to give her space and began wiping the counter. Within minutes, there was a soft, even sound.
Eugen had fallen asleep.
She stared at the sleeping woman, at the fall of her white hair against the dark wood of the bar. Vulnerable. That was the word. Perhaps she'd allowed herself to be vulnerable here, in the quiet, judgment-free space of this empty bar.
Ensign Collins wouldn't be back for another hour or so. She went upstairs to get a spare blanket and gently draped it over Eugen's shoulders. The woman stirred, mumbling something in German that sounded suspiciously like profanity. Then she settled again.
A car stopped outside the window, its headlights sweeping across the room. She tensed, hoping it wasn't Ensign Collins returning early. She didn't want to explain this.
But soon it was apparent that the car was the familiar Prince Skyline.
"Howdy, Skipper."
Jerry was smiling. Not a weary one, too. Not the diplomat forced to justify a war. He was just Jerry, in his uniform, but this time it didn't feel so heavy. For a moment, she had the absurd urge to hide the sleeping German from him.
"What brings you here?" she asked, her voice low.
"Saw Ensign Collins wandering around near the Sensō-ji, looking a little lost. Figured I'd check on you," he said, his gaze already falling on Eugen. "And her. Well, I know she's in good hands."
He didn't seem surprised at all. He just looked...amused.
"She's...tired."
"I bet. That's a lot of history in one person. A lot of ghosts," he walked over to the bar, not sitting, just standing, looking down at Eugen. "Well, this is a harbor, so to speak. She could start finding her own dock here."
"I don't think she'd like that comparison."
He chuckled. "Probably not. But it's true."
The silence stretched, comfortable and familiar. She looked at Eugen, then at Jerry, who was looking at her.
"Oh, and while I'm here, I need to give you this."
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
"For you. From NJ."
"NJ?"
"She started all this. She wanted you to know what kind of fight we're all in. You don't need to read it now. But...it's yours."
She took the paper. It felt flimsy, almost insubstantial, yet it held the weight of a new reality. She didn't open it. She just held it.
"Thank you," she said.
"You're welcome," he said. "And...thanks for this. For being here. For being a place where a tired ship can just...sleep. That's more important than any law they pass in Washington. I may arrange for Essex and Saratoga to be allowed more leeway so they can visit you. Maybe go out with the others. Miss Atago seems...eager."
The thought of Essex trying to navigate Atago's plans was an amusing one.
"I think...they'd like that."
"Good. I'll make it happen."
A pair of headlights swept across the storefront again. This time, it was a nondescript sedan. Ensign Collins was back, right on time. He looked a little less overwhelmed than when he left, but his eyes still had a certain wide-eyed innocence about them.
"I, uh, I guess I'm early—oh, Captain!"
He scrambled to straighten up, snapping to attention.
"At ease, Ensign," Jerry said, turning to him. "Enjoy your tour?"
"Yes, sir. The temple was...very educational, sir."
"I'm sure it was," Jerry gestured towards the sleeping Eugen. "I believe your charge is...recharging. I'll take it from here. You can head back to the hotel. Get a good night's sleep. You've earned it."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
Collins looked at Eugen, then at her, then back to Jerry, a silent question in his eyes. Jerry just gave him a reassuring nod. He responded with a salute, crisp and by-the-book.
"Hey, Ensign. Lighten up. Maybe next time you should give this place a try if you're here. Just don't come on Fridays. It's her day off. It's a nice place, and the Coke is always chilled to perfection. I've had it many times."
Collins blinked, a faint blush creeping up his neck. He gave a jerky nod, muttered a "Yes, sir," and practically fled.
Jerry watched him go, a soft smile on his face.
"Well then, guess I'll wait a bit until this Sleeping Beauty wakes up. Hopefully, no kisses needed."
She didn't know why, but the remark left her...annoyed? No, that can't be right. Maybe just...tired. She shook her head to clear it.
"You want Coke?"
"Sure."
She poured him a glass. The bubbles hissed softly in the quiet room. They sat there in comfortable silence, watching over the sleeping Eugen. The folded letter from NJ felt like a lead weight in her apron pocket.
***
She didn't open the letter until later that night, long after Jerry had coaxed a groggy and complaining Eugen into the sedan and driven off.
NJ was, as always, irreverent even when talking about things that mattered.
But she also knew when things mattered. It was inspiring to see her speak up, encouraged by former COs and crewmembers. Her ship may be mothballed, but she wasn't silenced.
Firepower for Freedom, indeed.
The civil rights movement provided the momentum they needed to be recognized, but it was NJ who gave it a voice.
The letter's words lingered long after she'd read them—kind, direct, unmistakable.
For the first time, she believed them.
She was absolved.