Chapter One

I saw my end again, as I had every night for the past week.

In my dream, I was out at sea, with the splash of saltwater nipping at my ankles and a gentle, Pacific breeze that sung sweetly into my ears. The morning sun basked me in her welcoming warmth, which drew my gaze upwards to an azure sky so pure that, for a brief moment, I couldn't help but think I was in paradise; that this was a gift solely for me from the gods. This was the serenity that I yearned for, even if a part of me knew that this life could never truly be for me. I was kansen, after all. War was our only purpose, and the world would not tolerate our existence in any other form any more than a lamb would accept life alongside a lion.

As it did every night, the tranquility was short-lived.

It started with a faint buzzing, almost so imperceivable at first that I could mistake it for a burst of radio static, or perhaps a particularly bold and irritating fly that had taken a fancy to my ear. The kind of irritating, incessant noise that drilled its way into my mind and grew louder with every passing moment until I couldn't even hear my own thoughts through it all. It was only then, when the whining became so intense my head felt like it was about to burst did I finally see them.

They swarmed from beyond the horizon, like a divine wind, full of righteous fury. It rumbled and roared, spreading across the sky until the sun was blotted out. Soon the cloud became so dense and their numbers so inconceivable that I couldn't discern where one individual ended and the next began. Never in my life had I seen so many airplanes gathered in one spot. It was as though the entire sky had transformed into one, massive living entity, driven onwards by a singular purpose: destruction.

I watched in helpless silence as the air fleet passed over me, seemingly oblivious to my presence or, worse, indifferent to it. After all, what could I, a lone battleship, do? I could no more fight against such odds than I could fight the wind. My well-being, however, was the furthest thing from my mind, as I soon realized that off in the distance, along the same vector as the planes, were the faint and distinctive silhouettes of pagodas and a massive, sprawling tree at the center of them. Those planes were heading straight for the very heart of the Sakura Empire.

Although I could not fight, I knew I had to do something to help my people. However, when I tried to move, I suddenly discovered that my arms and legs were shackled by heavy chains, which were in turn secured to large, cement pillars that flanked me on both sides. I pulled as hard as I could in a desperate attempt to break free, but even as the manacles dug deep enough into my wrists to draw blood, they would not budge. I was, for every sense of the work, stuck—as helpless as a newborn kit. All I could do was continue watching as the mass of planes grew more and more distant, returning me to my sky of crystal blue and radiant sun, which felt a lot colder now than it had moments ago. Years of training and service, the pride of the Combined Fleet and the sworn defender of the Sakura Empire, and the best I could be was a decorative monument. No matter how many times I went through the scenes, how many times I experienced this dream, the feelings never changed. I was supposed to be the might of my Empire, but I couldn't help but feel very small at that moment. I may as well have been screaming at the setting sun.

I fell to my knees, defeated by my own weakness, and waited for the nightmare to end. The dream, though, did not conclude exactly the same way as it had all the other times.

"Is this what you really want?" a voice spoke up.

I dragged my gaze upwards and saw a figure standing before me: a girl, though I knew that by the voice alone. I didn't get a good look at her before there came a sudden and blinding flash in the distance. All I made out was a small, lithe figure with very large ears atop her head. The searing, white light soon engulfed everything, and then… nothing.

"Nagato? Lady Nagato, wake up!"

I jolted awake, or rather half-awake and quite disorientated. It took a few seconds for me to realize that I wasn't in bed, but rather sitting at a table. Normally this would've been very obvious, but I couldn't see anything but white. For a brief second, I feared that the blinding light in my dream had actually left me sightless. Then the paper that had been stuck to my forehead finally fell free, and it was only then that I recognized my surroundings of the main conference room at the naval headquarters. Sitting nearby were Akagi, Kaga, Mikasa, and several other of our senior kansens from the carrier and battleship divisions. As my foggy memory began to collect itself, I remembered that we were in a discussion of some sort. The others were looking at me with puzzled and concerned looks, no doubt because I had clearly been napping through it.

I looked to the paperwork scattered on the table just to jog my memory: there were papers on unit rotations and patrol duties, along with a few that were too smeared by sweat and what I really, really hoped wasn't my own drool. Amidst all the loose sheets, one word caught my attention above the rest: Yamato.

"Ah, right, my apologies," I said to the others as I reorganized my files, if only to give the appearance of not being as disorientated as I actually was.

"Is everything okay, Lady Nagato?" Akagi, who sat to my left, asked. "You appeared to be having quite the vivid dream there."

"It's nothing," I insisted. "I, uh… I wasn't asleep for long, was it?"

"Only a few minutes," she answered, followed by a quiet, playful laugh. "Nobody had the heart to wake you up, though. We actually had to put it to a vote."

Needless to say, I felt rather embarrassed to have been seen in such a state, but all I could muster was a sheepish smile and the silent hope that we could just press on with the meeting and forget about who was sleeping where. Akagi would probably tease me about it later, but at the very least I could count on her to remain polite while we were in front of others, as would most of the others present. One of the small advantages of being the flagship was the overabundant respect deferred to my position.

"If you want, Lady Nagato, we can postpone the meeting to a better time later."

The suggestion came from Mikasa, whose presence alone had always been a reassurance to me. Or at least, it normally would be except I didn't want to admit that the dreams that had been plaguing my sleep for the past week had left me sleep deprived. I still remembered the old war stories that Mikasa used to share—tales of seemingly endless battles against the Sirens to protect not just the Empire but the whole world. If she could fight a war on minimal sleep, I figured the least I could do was handle one little meeting. Anything less would've been unbecoming of the Flagship of the Combined Fleet.

"It's fine. I'm fine," I reiterated, more firmly the second time. Judging by the sideways glances that the rest were giving each other, I had a suspicion they weren't convinced. Nonetheless, I had to just keep moving forward, and, luckily, being in charge meant I didn't have to wait for their permission. "The main item on the agenda is the… uh, preparations for the ceremony in which battleship Yamato…" The next words found themselves stubbornly clinging to me, teetering on the very edge of my lips like a heavy weight. Though they were but mere words, a part of me didn't even want to acknowledge their existence. It was a childish defiance, I knew that much, and after a deep, calming breath, I powered through my misgivings. "In which Lady Yamato will be appointed as the new Flagship for the Combined Fleet."

The words hung around my neck like a heavy chain, and though this had been the fifth such meeting discussing the details of the ceremony, every iteration felt just a little bit heavier than before. Yamato, the most powerful battleship of the Sakura Empire, was set to takeover my position as the Protector of the Empire. It only made sense; I had been the flagship for quite a long time, and it was inevitable that someone better would come along. In a few days, discussions and meetings such as these would be her responsibility to lead. At best, I might sit in some of them as a participant, but I doubt my experience would be needed in the role of an advisor when we already had the likes of Akagi and Mikasa, both of whom had more practical experience in one hand than I had in my entire being.

I didn't realize I had been staring a hole through my papers for a couple minutes until I heard Akagi suddenly speak up. "Kaga, would you mind reading through the final copy of the itinerary for us?" she said.

Kaga dutifully heeded the instructions and rose to her feet in order to carry it out. This took everyone's attention away from me, which was a welcomed mercy indeed. It was a small one, however, as it meant that Akagi was now even more aware of my growing preoccupation. She was still one of my most trusted advisors, but at that moment, her keen perception and wits were the last things I wished to contend with. That sense of annoyance only made me feel even worse when I realized that I had no reason to be annoyed with somebody who had my best interests at heart. I felt selfish just thinking about it. My troubles were mine alone to deal with, but they were going to affect those around me at this rate. Sooner or later, I would wind up being distracted during a moment with far more at stake than just what the floral arrangements would be. I owed it to everybody to, as the girls from the Eagle Union would say, get my head in the game.

"Is that satisfactory for you, Lady Nagato?" Akagi's voice again snapped me from my latest bout of ruminating.

"W-what? Oh, um, y-yes. That will be fine," I hastily answered.

There was a round of quiet, stifled laughter from the others at the table, and a rather amused grin from Akagi herself. "You are fine with performing the entire ceremony while dressed as a tanuki?"

"Wait, what?" The shock alone almost floored me, to say nothing of the rush of heat to my face that hit like a torpedo.

"Lady Nagato," Akagi continued, now taking a more sympathetic tone, "are you certain you wouldn't rather continue this meeting at another time? There's no value in pressing yourself if you're unwell."

"I told you, there's no need to postpone matters on my account."

I had no idea why Akagi kept asking me despite how many times I insisted to the contrary. There was no need to treat me as though I were some fragile old boat: I was simply being replaced as the flagship. It wasn't like I was about to be hauled off to be scrapped. And even if I didn't have every little detail committed to memory, what difference would that make? None of the meaningful parts of the ceremony were going to change at this point, and my role in it was mostly to make a speech and lead the crowd in a prayer, something that I had done so many times as the flagship that I could do it in my sleep. A part of me wondered if the only reason I sat in on these discussions was because they took pity on me and just wanted to make me feel like I was still important in the waning days of my tenure.

"Miss Akagi has a point," Mikasa chimed in. "There's not much happening today anyways, so it's not like it'll be hard to try this again later. Maybe after dinner, once everyone has a full belly."

By the gods, it felt like even Mikasa, the one person who I looked up to the most, was turning against me. The annoyances were now almost infuriating, as though they didn't respect me or take me seriously. The ceremony may have been in a few days, but until then I was still the Flagship of the Combined Fleet!

"For the last time, I'm fine!" I shouted, followed by my fist slamming into the table with such force that everybody in the room fell dead silent afterwards. I don't think anyone was expecting that strong of a response, and even I was a little surprised when I noticed that I had cracked the table.

"She's right," Mikasa said as the first one to find their voice once more. "If Lady Nagato says to continue, then we continue on." The esteemed battleship then rose to her feet. "Now, ignoring the part about tanuki, we'll need to consider—ARGH!" She let out a sudden howl of pain before she doubled over against the table, one arm bracing herself while the other clutched at her back.

"Lady Mikasa!" I was on my feet and at my colleague's side without even a second thought. "A-are you alright? Is it your back again?"

"Y-yeah," she answered through gritted teeth. "T-thought I stretched enough this morning. Guess I was wrong."

Seeing the woman I admired in so much pain, everything else suddenly became a secondary concern. "Just hang in there," I reassured her before I turned to everyone else. "I'll see to helping Lady Mikasa to the infirmary. We'll continue this meeting another time."

Akagi and the others all rose with nary a single objection. They each gave a respectful bow and then filed out of the room. Under normal circumstances, I might've noticed their rather curious lack of concern, but my thoughts were fixed on helping Mikasa, who kept insisting I wait a moment before trying to help move her.

"We should get you to the infirmary with all due haste," I told her once again.

"Just a second, just a second," she replied. Casting a glance around the room, she eventually breathed a small sigh of relief. Perhaps she had been waiting for it to be clear before making any attempt. Perhaps I was not the only person letting pride dictate the schedule.

"Is there anything you need?"

Mikasa just smiled and nodded. "I could use some tea." In one sudden, swift motion, my colleague was upright and on her feet once more, as though she had never been stricken in the first place. "How about you? I'll go pour us some."

"What the—? L-Lady Mikasa, your back—"

"Oh, it's fine! I ain't that inflexible, you know," my now-jovial colleague said. She walked over to a nearby table where some tea and cups had been set aside. As she poured out two cups, she revealed the truth. "Sorry about all the theatrics, but I figured the only way to get you to do the right thing was if it were for someone else's sake."

I collapsed back to my seat in stunned silence, feeling quite foolish at the realization that I had been so easily played. The fact that everybody else left without a word meant that they all probably recognized the ploy long before I had. I should've been angry, as Mikasa had clearly taken it upon herself to ignore my instructions and deceive me, but now that the room had been emptied, all I felt was relief. My fellow kansen returned to her seat, but not before setting a cup of tea down next to me.

"Thank you," I said in a near inaudible mutter before I took a sip. At least the tea would help calm my nerves, I figured.

"Now what's the matter, Nagato? You haven't been acting like yourself lately," Mikasa asked between sips of her own beverage. "Why, I haven't seen you raise your voice like that since that time someone accidentally gave Mutsu an espresso."

I wish I had an answer to give her, but despite how much time I had spent giving speeches and leading ceremonies, I found myself bereft of words to spend. If I could put all my thoughts and worries into words, I probably would not be so distracted trying to figure them out in the first place. 'Bad dreams' just sounded too childish, and seemed trite compared to the real problems that we faced every day. How could one whine about sleep to someone who's had to stare down Sirens in battle?

"Are you sleeping okay?" Mikasa inquired, to which I shook my head. "Is it because of Yamato?"

"Of course not," I replied in an instant. "I have nothing but the utmost respect for Lady Yamato. Her strength, grace, and leadership will help usher the Sakura Empire into a new era of peace and prosperity."

"And how many times have you had to practice that answer?"

I shouldn't have been surprised that she saw through me. "O-only… three or four times," I murmured. With a heavy sigh and a long sip of tea to drown my unease, I continued on. "I don't have anything against Lady Yamato, but… compared to her, I just seem so insignificant."

"Insignificant? That's just a load of hullabaloo. You shouldn't fixate on that sorta stuff."

"Why not?" I said, feeling a little incensed. "She's stronger than me; she's got more armour than me; she's taller than me… more elegant… more graceful… more womanly. And she's got huge—" My words came to an abrupt halt as I realized that perhaps my colleague had a point in the dangers of fixation, as I was about to pantomime something rather inappropriate. I just sounded jealous, which felt even more trivial considering I was complaining to one of our oldest and most venerated veterans. Feeling the weight of shame bearing down upon me, my head hung low, as did my words. "Whenever I think of her being the flagship, I just get this… cold, empty feeling in my chest. Does it make me a bad person for wanting things to stay the way they are?"

"Of course it doesn't. It just makes you like the rest of us," Mikasa reassured me. She patted me on the head, something that I would normally have objected to, but in that moment, coming from her, it felt very comforting. "You're facing a big change in your life. It's natural to feel anxious and have misgivings about it, especially since you're losing something you've considered a defining part of you for so long."

Upon reflection, it was true that I had become rather attached to the title of Flagship of the Combined Fleet. I tried not to be prideful about it, but it was hard to ignore the implications that this change was going to be a step down for me. I would no longer be the leader that so many turned to for guidance and inspiration.

"Did you ever have these feelings when you lost the flagship position?"

"Not really," she answered with a reluctant sigh. "But things were a lot different back in my time. Back then, new ships of the line were coming out every other year, it felt like. Heck, everything changed after Dreadnought entered the scene. I didn't even get the chance to feel like I was top of the world before I became yesterday's news." Mikasa flashed me a strangely reassuring smile, as if nothing in the world could ever dampen her spirits. "But honestly, Nagato, just because I'm a little old, doesn't mean I've outlived my usefulness. You don't think I'm obsolete, do you?"

To say that I looked up to Mikasa would be about as much of an understatement as describing the Kanto earthquake as 'a bit of a shake-up.' Though there were many in the Sakura Empire I respected for their strength, wisdom, or leadership, there were none who I felt more embodied all of those than her. I suspect she knew that as well, which was why she took it upon herself to talk to me.

"Of course I don't," I said in earnest. "Your experience and leadership alone are worth more than any cannon. The prestige and glory you've earned for our Empire could never be matched!"

"Aw shucks, Nagato, you're going to make me blush at this rate," Mikasa said in a mirthful laugh. When she patted my head again, this time more in thanks, I felt rather embarrassed all of a sudden. Perhaps I had laid on the praise a bit too thick. Though the patting stopped, her hand stayed where it was upon my head with her fingers interweaving into my hair. "Listen, if an old warhorse like me can still be of value, then there isn't a battleship on Earth that could ever replace you. I'm not saying this change will be easy, but just trust in yourself."

The growing embarrassment of having my hair ruffled soon proved to be too much for me to handle, and I eased my colleague's hand away. "Thank you, Lady Mikasa. Once again, I am humbled by your wisdom."

She laughed again before finishing off the rest of her tea. "You know, if you keep talking so formally with all this 'Lady Mikasa' stuff, you're going to make me feel like an old granny."

For some reason, I found her laughter to be rather contagious, and I was soon giggling gleefully along with her. It was a brief, fleeting reprieve from the weight of all my anxieties. How Mikasa could face everything with the kind of optimism she always displayed was a mystery to me. It was as if nothing could get her down. Even though I had a longer tenure than her, I didn't command nearly the same level of prestige and glory she did. If I could've been even half of the leader she had proven to be, I doubt I would've had the same misgivings about myself.

"But you know, Nagato," Mikasa said, now carrying a somewhat more sober tone, "if you really aren't okay with handing over the flagship position, we could probably convince the others to side with you. If we get enough of the senior kansen to agree, we might be able to force the Admiralty to back down. I'm sure Akagi could come up with some legitimate-sounding strategic reason why we shouldn't be changing the command structure right now."

As comforting as it was to think of the kansen rallying around me in some show of solidarity, duty alone prevented me from seriously considering the proposal. "I doubt we could change their minds. This has been a long time coming, and the incident with Project Orochi has likely sealed my fate."

"Balderdash," Mikasa scoffed as she struck the table with enough force to have almost toppled over her tea. "The only one to blame for that debacle is that Siren who poured poison into our Akagi's ear."

There likely wasn't a ship in the fleet that didn't share the same sentiment, although that could be just as much of a problem. Blaming the Sirens for what happened made things simpler to accept and digest: we were tricked by powers beyond our comprehension, they'd claim. The truth, that we were blinded to the dangers by our own desires, was less palatable for the general public.

"Be that as it may, it does not change the fact that I approved of a project that led to the Empire becoming a pawn in a Siren plot. A proper leader would have paid more attention—exercised more oversight. My reliance on Akagi blinded me to her schemes happening in our own port." To say that the esteemed First Carrier Division abused my trust in them felt like I was avoiding my own responsibility in the disaster. I should've suspected something sooner, but I turned a blind eye because I didn't want to look closer. "What's more, it was only resolved by forging an alliance with Azur Lane. The Admiralty will not admit it publicly, but I made it look like we couldn't solve our own problems without help from foreigners."

"Doesn't seem fair," she murmured in response.

"Somebody has to take responsibility for the incident. To do otherwise would suggest that the Admiralty has lost control over its fleet. And who better to take punishment than one who was already on their way out." My tenure as flagship was destined to end with Yamato; my decision to take responsibility simply hastened that end. If it protected the rest of the fleet, especially Akagi, then it was a worthwhile sacrifice. "I think I will retire for now," I said as I got to my feet. "You've given me a lot to think about. I can only hope that, in time, I will be able to come to terms with being an ordinary battleship."

"I doubt you could ever be 'ordinary', no matter how hard you tried," Mikasa reassured me. "But in my experience, the best way to better understand yourself is through your friends. Why don't you go spend some time with Mutsu, and maybe Kawakaze as well. The two of you are friends, right?"

I once again found myself unable to answer right away, silenced by a combination of embarrassment and uncertainty. While it was undeniable that Kawakaze had been a part of my life for quite a long time, it was solely due to her position as my bodyguard. She had always been a loyal and reliable ally, but I wasn't certain if it was fair to her to think of her as a friend. And when I thought about it, with Mutsu being my sister, Kawakaze my guard, and Mikasa my mentor and idol, did I really have any friends? Friendship suggested a closeness that I didn't know if I shared with anyone else. Etiquette and procedure had always kept everyone at arm's length. It made me realize that even though I would gain my freedom once I was no longer the flagship, would I even know what to do with it? It was a most troubling thought.

Before Mikasa got the idea that I had fallen back into a mental rut, I made a hasty response. "She's duty-bound to protect me, that does not mean that she enjoys my company."

"Well, only one way to find out," Mikasa said, ever the optimist.

"I told Miss Kawakaze that her services wouldn't be required while I was in meeting. I wouldn't want to intrude on her free time."

"I doubt that'd be the case," Mikasa said as she escorted me to the exit. She stopped mid-stride, though, and then suddenly shouted, "Oh my goodness! Are you okay, Nagato?"

Before I even had a chance to question her outburst, the door slammed open and we were now face-to-face with my steadfast bodyguard, Kawakaze. She had one hand on the hilt of her blade, but once she realized that this had been a false alarm, the silver-haired destroyer relaxed her stance. At least I wasn't the only ship in the fleet getting played by Mikasa today.

Mikasa proceeded to take my hand and dropped a few coins into my palm. "Why don't the two of you get something nice and enjoy yourselves," she said. With a smile and a quick bow, she then excused herself and headed on her way, leaving me alone with my bodyguard.

For her part, Kawakaze just looked to me, dutiful and silent, as she awaited my next instructions. I was too busy staring at the coins in my hand, which amounted to a little over one hundred yen after a quick count. Perhaps Mikasa had forgotten that it wasn't 1905 anymore and that a hundred yen didn't go nearly as far as it once did. It was the thought that counted, however, or so I reminded myself.

"So…" I started, albeit unsure of how to carry the conversation forward. Should I speak to her as the Nagato she was duty-bound to protect, or the Nagato that wanted to try and be more friendly? In the absence of a clear path, I fell back on my usual habits. "We should go find my sister then."

"As you wish, Lady Nagato."