"Something is bothering you," Shoukaku declared as she joined her sister in a pier overlooking the vast, raging seas. "I know it's not about your loss in our sparring session this morning."

"You know, huh," Zuikaku, who was watching the cloudless skies, replied; there is no hiding something from Shoukaku, but then again, she tends to wear her emotions on her sleeve.

"Well, I am your sister," Shoukaku made herself comfortable beside the other carrier, who moved aside slightly to make room for her. Just behind them, a ragtag group of seamen and pilots is having a rather boisterous carousing―singing, dancing, and drinking the cheap liquor the Imperial General Headquarters every now and then would distribute to the front lines. A way to keep the already fragile morale from completely crumbling.

Zuikaku cannot entirely grasp what the song they were singing was all about; most of those who sing was already inebriated to various degrees―and all she heard was a tuneless, raucous cacophony. However, knowing firsthand how typical rank-and-file navy members usually act, she guessed the song was most likely about something bawdy.

"Hm. Victory is still nowhere in sight, yet they are having this revelry; what a waste," Shoukaku can only scoff at the sorry sight, but Zuikaku is more forgiving.

"Can you really blame them, Shoukaku-nee? Any day could be their last; why not make merry while they still can?"

Zuikaku recalled how distraught the men were as they wrote what could be their last letter home before they were sent to battle; a far cry from how unruly they are now.

She also recalled—not without regret— how one time, a young officer nearly broke into tears as he sorted through the letters, keeping the ones belonging to the survivors and setting aside those belonging to the fallen to be sent to their loved ones—with the latter outnumbering the former.

A piece of old wisdom likened the life of a warrior to cherry blossoms―ephemeral yet meaningful. Though having witnessed their numbers dwindling quickly, seemingly for no purpose, Zuikaku often wondered if such a metaphor rings true still.

"But truly, they weren't celebrating," Zuikaku heard Shoukaku speaking, her tone noticeably softening as she watched the sky and squinting at the stars—scarce, dim, and distant. "Because they weren't happy at all; they were simply hiding their fear. Come the next battle, they are likely to perish, aren't they?"

"Stop it, please."

Shoukaku laid a hand on her sister's shoulder and gave it a light, comforting squeeze, which she appreciated. "That's why we and dai-senpai are going to bring an end to this war. For the sake of these men and the people of this land."

"Ye-yes; of course, we will," Zuikaku replied, returning the gesture by placing her own hand on top of her sister's. Shoukaku smiled softly at that before, from the corner of her eyes, noticing something that made her smile turned into a smirk.

"...Of course, that includes our old friend over there."

Looking in the same direction as Shoukaku, Zuikaku saw a lone pilot slipping away unnoticed from the group before nervously shuffling towards the sea and stopping right on the edge of another pier. As he looked around, seemingly without purpose, he noticed the two sisters and approached the pair.

"Oh, if it isn't Ohtori-chūi; too pure to join that band of rowdy drunkards, aren't you? What are you, a kid? You shouldn't be up and about at this hour, then."

"Can it, stupid crane," Sublieutenant Kensaku Ohtori hissed his retort to Shoukaku's playfully snide remark with an equal amount of venom as he took a seat beside the carrier.

"I don't want to be called stupid by someone who was nearly dead last among his class of cadets," Shoukaku shot back.

"Gah! I hate you, you insufferable woman."

"Likewise, coward."

Zuikaku rubbed her temple as the two traded barbs. It's nothing new, of course, but it's not something she could or want to get accustomed to.

With a sigh, she shot up, the sudden act silencing the bickering duo.

"Alright, Ohtori, Shoukaku-nee, move aside a bit," she told them flatly; the man, after expressing a brief surprise at the request, gladly complied. Seeing how happy he was, Shoukaku was less than amused but said no word as she made room for her sister to sit between them.

"...Okay, please stop bickering just for tonight, can you two...?" Zuikaku spoke in a tired whisper as she resumed sitting, chin rested on her knees.

"Sorry," Ohtori murmured, while Shoukaku merely responded with a slight shrug before turning her attention to the skies once more, engrossed on gazing at the stars as if she was searching for something.

"Why aren't you staying with them?" Zuikaku glanced at the man beside him, who, in contrast to her sister, is staring at the distant seas. Upon hearing the question, he immediately blushed.

"...Not really my thing," he muttered, almost expecting Shoukaku to say something insulting. But much to his surprise, she did not. Hearing the reply, Zuikaku nodded in understanding; when faced with what might be imminent, inevitable death, some are like the group behind them—rowdy and rambunctious. Some others, however, became very quiet and contemplative, just like the man beside her—except when he spoke with Shoukaku, that is.

"Oh...well, yeah, I know. Even back then, you always hate gatherings, eh?" With a smile, Zuikaku replied; from the corner of her eyes, Shoukaku noticed his reaction and subtly smirked. His feelings are too easy to read, but Zuikaku never seemed to notice.

"Ah...guess that's true...by the way, what are you girls doing here anyway?"

"Um..." Zuikaku trailed off, but Shoukaku was quick to answer.

"It's nothing much. We just feel like getting some fresh air. It's been stifling these past few days in the living quarters, aren't they?"

"Eh...well, I suppose we have the same reason then," Ohtori replied, "and then they dragged me to that little party of theirs," he pointed at the group; by now, the noise they were making had begun to die down, probably because some of them already passed out.

"They aren't happy, are they...?" Zuikaku asked him; he gave a puzzled blink as a response, but despite that, he eventually replied.

"...They? I don't know. But...if anyone can actually be happy during these circumstances, that would be amazing. Why did you ask?"

"It's nothing. I just remembered something Shoukaku-nee said before. They were not happy; they were only hiding their fear."

"...And aren't we all...?" Out of the blue, Shoukaku exclaimed. The remark got the other two to stare at her in confusion, both their heads tilting in the same direction.

"...Eh...what do you mean, Shoukaku-nee ?"

"Nothing; forget it," Shoukaku promptly dismissed the question, and as if to emphasize that point, she quickly turned her attention to the sky yet again. Zuikaku decided she wasn't going to press further, as Shoukaku probably would deflect the question instead of responding in earnest anyway.

Though she had to admit, her sister was right.

"As much as I hate to say it, I suppose we all do. It's hard not to think of death...when you just spoke to someone you know one day, and they were gone the next day," Zuikaku heard Ohtori finally speaking after keeping to himself for quite a while.

Though his eyes were still focused on the waters, the words were most likely addressed to Shoukaku; however, she offered no response to that. Perhaps, Zuikaku guessed, her sister is content to silently agreeing to the statement.

"...But you know...talking to you guys...even about stupid things, this and that...I feel like I can live with that, somehow. So yeah, I'm glad I could talk to Zuikaku...and even Shoukaku while I still can," Ohtori continued. His voice was noticeably cracking, and when their gaze happened to meet as he glanced at her—with the man shyly looked the other way immediately when he saw that her cheeks were reddening—Zuikaku saw just how vulnerable and pained he was. Even then, he was smiling a little, though it disappeared the moment he heard Shoukaku giggling.

"You are being honest...maybe we really should celebrate after all," she said while Zuikaku groaned her sister's name, worried she would have to break up another spat. Meanwhile, Ohtori blinked at the remark; while he believed Shoukaku's clearly teasing, there was something else there. Something he could not quite put a finger on, perhaps genuine joy, but he wasn't sure about it. Whatever the case, he decided to humor the KANSEN nevertheless.

"...Well then, celebrate with this," he finally said; after partially unzipping his jacket to get something he kept inside, he presented a small flask to Shoukaku.

Looking at it, within a span of seconds Shoukaku's expression turned into surprise and then amusement, while Zuikaku kept a puzzled look as she stared at the object.

"Don't look at me like that, Zuikaku. The boys forced me to take it," Ohtori said as he lightly tossed the flask to Shoukaku who caught it with ease. The KANSEN let out a small laugh before sipping the content.

As she had expected when the liquid passed her lips, it was cheap liquor, nearly tasteless save for a hint of bitterness and only good at making you intoxicated; but they certainly serve their purpose well—to make men forget.

"You have got to wonder why anyone would want to drink this," Shoukaku commented after she took another sip and passed the flask to Zuikaku, who reluctantly accepted it. She ended up cradling it instead of imbibing the content, and eventually returned it to its owner.

"...It's as you said before, Shoukaku-nee... they..." Zuikaku replied quietly, and Ohtori sighed deeply. Though Zuikaku didn't finish what she wanted to say, he understood, having recalled the conversation they had earlier.

He recalled the day she opened up to him about their decision, and though he struggled to accept it, he finally did. And now, he decided, he could affirm that to them—to Zuikaku.

"...And isn't that the reason why you guys are going...?" he asked, though seeing that Zuikaku didn't answer and the change in her expression, he realized it probably wasn't a good question at all. Shoukaku noticed that as well, and it dawned on her why Zuikaku seemed troubled.

"...If we are...will you be okay...Ohtori?" After a while, Zuikaku spoke, her voice even quieter than before and her head downcast.

The pilot paused to collect his thoughts, and replied, as firmly as he could manage, despite the pang in his heart, "...You should do what you need to do. Shoukaku needs you, and you need her...so, please, don't worry about me."

"But..."

"I'm not a child that needs to be coddled, Zuikaku, and you know that...didn't you dream of putting an end to this conflict? That's more important than me. We don't have time to be dreaming nowadays, you know..." Ohtori continued. Shoukaku noticed that despite his efforts to put on a strong front, his voice began to crack once again.

As she heard the words, a resigned Zuikaku passed a brief look at Shoukaku, who was watching in silence and replied, "No...But, I...I understand."

"...I'm going to be alright. And once this is all over, we'll meet again, me and you two...so you guys better have good news to tell." Having regained himself, Ohtori finished; he was pleased to see Zuikaku smiling at that, and eventually, Shoukaku joined too.

Not long after, a brighter-looking Zuikaku stood up rather hastily, much the confusion of the other two.

"...Sorry, Shoukaku-nee, Ohtori, I gotta go, I have something that I must do," Zuikaku quickly excused herself before they could ask anything. As she left, Shoukaku and Ohtori looked at each other and shrugged.

By now, the noise around them had died down altogether. Ohtori noticed some of the drunkards were still awake, but struggling to get to their feet, much less walking. He was sure those men would complain of a headache tomorrow...or getting chewed at by their superiors.

"...So you are still adamant about not telling her, huh?" Shoukaku began after making sure her sister was really gone from sight. As she had predicted, he got defensive over the abrupt question.

"Wh-what's your business with that...?"

"It's alright to let her know...You might regret it if you don't."

Diverting his attention from the KANSEN, who looked unusually melancholic, Ohtori replied,

"She's burdened enough as she is. I cannot bring myself to weigh her down, you know...? I...I want her to be free."

"...I guess you are right. A bird should not be weighed down if it wanted to fly."

"Yeah, maybe...just maybe, one day, I'm going to tell her. So please...protect her, will you...?"

"...Like you need to ask; try to stay alive yourself."

"Of course. You too."

That was the end of the talk until Ohtori decided to call it a night and rose from where he was sitting, saying, "Well, guess I gotta go back before the higher-ups got here...are you going?"

"I still have things to think about," the KANSEN answered curtly, shaking her head. Ohtori nodded at that and placed the flask he's been holding beside her.

"Don't stay up late, though. Good night, Shoukaku."

"Yeah, good night, Ohtori."

Shoukaku watched the man as he left, following his every movement until he eventually disappeared from her line of sight. She noticed the flask sitting beside her, thinking he must've forgotten it—or perhaps, left it there on purpose.

"For me...?" She laughed dryly at the thought and sipped the drink inside once more. Maybe it was just her, but the drink seemed to taste bitterer than the first time she tasted it.

"Fool," she muttered to herself.

Ohtori ended up waking a bit earlier than usual, owing to his inability to sleep the night before. It left him a little worried about how it will affect his performance—they are sortieing again today, for the first time in days. Now that he remembered that, the anxiety from the anticipation was the most likely cause.

He couldn't return to sleep, and he wasn't feeling sleepy anymore, so he eventually decided to go outside to get the morning air and calm his frayed nerves.

As he walked out of the quarters, he was surprised to see Zuikaku out there, and much to his relief, no one else; for reasons he can only wonder, she appeared to be waiting for him. He was thankful, though, to see that she wasn't troubled anymore. Not with that big grin adorning her face—the kind of smile he always loved to see.

"Hello, Ohtori. I never thought you could be up this early," she began, both hands behind her back, seemingly hiding something.

"Don't be like Shoukaku," he answered just as lightheartedly, having calmed himself to a degree—thanks to her, in fact—"um...you want to talk about something...?"

"Oh, I've been thinking... I should leave you with something. I dunno', maybe it will cheer you up..."

"...But I'm not sad or anything...?"

Zuikaku laughed again, before moving forward and revealing the piece of ema she's holding.

"You are always a bad liar. Here...for you."

Ohtori felt his cheeks heating up as Zuikaku gently took his hand and put the ema on it. When he looked at it closely, he found a word that left him stunned scribbled on it hastily.

"This is..."

"Remember that wish we made years ago at that festival in Hashira Island? Happiness is such a wonderful, magical word," Zuikaku continued, her expression softened.

Meanwhile, Ohtori willed himself to keep his emotions in check; he really did not want her to see him spilling his tears right now. It proved to be a difficult task since she kept on holding his hand.

"...Ye-yes. I remember...And yeah, you're right...It's a wonderful word..."

"...Hey..." Zuikaku whispered, looking down at the hand she's still holding, "it's still left unfulfilled, huh...?"

"Zuikaku...?"

Sensing the concern, Zuikaku quickly looked up, putting on a smile, and dismissed it with the wave of her hand.

"Nothing! Well, I have to prepare things, before our departure...so make sure you'll see us later when it's time to go," having said that, the KANSEN turned around to leave but stopped after only a few paces.

"...Hey, Ohtori? I guess I'll just ask this now..." she said with her back turned against him, "I want to know...is there something you would like to say to me...?"

At first, Ohtori was confused, but as soon as he caught on to the possible implication behind it, the question had him torn like never before. He did not know how long the part of him that told him to say it and the other that wanted to deny the whole thing went, but eventually, Zuikaku looked over her shoulder, still smiling even when he failed to produce an answer.

She was looking back with such sympathy that Ohtori felt guilty because of it.

"I'm sorry, that wasn't a fair question, was it? See you later, Ohtori."

Zuikaku was about to resume walking away, but Ohtori, unwilling to let her go without at least saying something after that, called her back, giving her pause.

"...I...I'm glad I got to know you. You...you've been looking after me all these years... I've always wanted to thank you for everything...and wish I could repay you somehow and you see..." he stuttered as he said those lines; Zuikaku gave out a brief laugh, though she wasn't laughing at the fact he turned into such an inelegant mess or at the heartfelt declaration.

"Don't say it like it's our last meeting. When this is all over, we'll meet again as you said," she boldly proclaimed as she turned around, echoing what he said last night," and we can go back to the way we were, and then you will have all the opportunity to do just that, you see?"

"Oh, eh...Sure, I promise I will...I will return the favor," relieved at getting what he wanted to say out, Ohtori laughed awkwardly, getting Zuikaku to join.

"I'm joking, you know...but, knowing you, that wouldn't make any difference, eh? Thank you, Ohtori. I'm looking forward to it."

But for now, we cannot be dreamers anymore.