Harry Potter & the Shipgirls

[darthcourt10]

Harry Leferts

The two predators stalked through their territory, silent, deadly. Both of them working together to bring down the same prey. Every so often they paused when their target perked up, but then went back to stalking closer and closer. The whole time, the prey was focused on something else. Along with it was a small herd of such beings, easy pickings for the predators on the hunt. Slowly, they got closer and closer until they were close enough.

And then they struck.

"BANZAI!"

"PO!"

Eyes widening, Aeroprin only had time to let out a squeak of surprise before both Harry and Hoppou were on top of her. Falling back, the Abyssal stared up at the two and noticed the looks in their eyes as her Destroyers looked on in surprise and some fear. "Mommy? Uncle Harry?"

Whimpers then escaped her as Hoppou's and Harry's grins widened. There was a mock sad look on Harry's face as he looked down on her. "Sorry, Blackie Smokie, but the Tickle Monsters have awoken..."

Nodding, Hoppou continued with a twinkle in her eye. "And they must be fed!"

Her eyes widening, Aeroprin tried to throw them off, but they were already moving. "Nooooooo! Hahahahaaha! Uncle Ha-ha-rry! Nuuuuuu!"

Clutching onto each other, the Abyssal Destroyers swallowed nervously. "S-scary..." Then a grinning Harry's head whipped around and focused on them. "Eep! RUN!"

Only bounding off of Aeroprin and leaving the attack to Hoppou, Harry began to chase his nieces around the apartment with his fingers wiggling. "Imma gonna tickle you! All of you!"

Squealing, the Destroyers tried to keep out of his reach as they shouted. "Nuuuuuuu!"

Far out to sea, Wokyuu paused from feeding her birds as a shiver went down her keel. "Wokyuu?" Blinking for several moments, she closed her eyes before clapping her hands together. "Wo wo wokyu." Chirps made her open her eyes and she smiled at the sight of her birdies, all of whom had returned with their children making nests as well. And there were more birdies as well including a heron that glowed at night! Brightly smiling, Wokyuu went back to filling the various bird feeders around her island. "Wokyuu!"

Back in the apartment, the owl box opened and Hedwig pushed a box forward into the room before cocking her head to the side. "Prek?" Bobbing her head, she tore the string and backed up some as Myrtle flew up from inside the box. "Prek."

Just floating around, Myrtle looked around in interest. "So this is where Harry lives then?" Hedwig just looked up at her and barked which made the ghost nod. "I see." It was then that her eyes caught something and she gave the box she arrived in a look. "... Did the Headmaster really need to put stamps on it?"

Looking up at her, Hedwig spread her wings in the owl version of a shrug. "Prek."

Softly giggling, Myrtle gave a nod. "Well, yes, I suppose so." Her own head tilting to the side, she leaned in and examined Hedwig more closely. "Sometimes I do swear that you are far too smart to be an ordinary owl." The owl only gave the ghost an even gaze back. "I wonder if there is any owl yokai..."

With a slow blink, Hedwig just clacked her beak before looking at the door. The ghost also did in time to see one of the Abyssal Destroyers burst in and fall to the ground, Harry on her back madly cackling. "TOO SLOW!"

Then his hands came down and began to ruthlessly tickle her as the older looking girl squealed and laughed. "Noooo! Uncle H-hahahaha-Harry! S-stop-p-ppftttt! Eeeee!"

Cackling, Harry shook his head as his fingers danced wherever they could. "Nope! Special Harry Strike! No Mercy Tickle!"

Another squeal came from the Abyssal while, unnoticed by either of the two, Myrtle crossed her arms with an amused look on her face. 'He really does make for a good big brother... and uncle as well, I suppose.' Sighing softly, she shook her head. 'You would have liked to meet him, Andrew. And you would have loved him as a great nephew.'

Finally, the Abyssal, who Myrtle recognized as Nighty Moon, groaned as her head clunked onto the floor. "Heavy tickle damage... Sunk."

Only grinning, Harry looked down at her with a laugh before blinking as he noticed the ghost floating there. "Aunt Myrtle!" Getting off the groaning Destroyer, he walked over and gave the ghost a hug much to her surprise. "You're actually here!"

Giggling, Myrtle threw her arms around him. "I am, just as I promised." While she was still confused at how such a thing was possible, though that nine tail fox named Hoshi had given her some clues, Myrtle did not care. Right now, all she really cared about was how the boy she now thought of as a younger brother/nephew's warm arms were around her. After going decades without any such things, the feeling of a warm hug was pure heaven to the ghost. "And surprisingly I think that I can keep this up for a month."

All Harry did was widen his eyes before his grin grew to the point where it was just about to start hurting. "Wait, seriously? You might be able to stay a whole month?" At her nod, he tilted his head in thought. 'I wonder if some of this is because we're so close to Obon?'

Not knowing his thoughts, Myrtle smiled down at him and looked around. "So this is Yokosuka then?"

Humming, the wizard blinked before shaking himself free of his thoughts. "Well, our apartment there anyways." With a step back, he placed his hands behind his head. "Anyways, I can't wait to show you Yokosuka!"

Mumbles made them both turn to Nighty Moon who was still laying on the floor before the ghost blinked. "Um, Harry? Is she... okay?"

Just shrugging, Harry gave a nod. "She's okay, just playing it up." Putting out a foot, he gently dug his big toe into her side. With a squeak, the Abyssal jumped up and ran from the room. "See?"

Floating behind him as they entered the rest of the apartment, Myrtle blinked at the sight of various Abyssals here and there on the ground as if dead. Hoppou turned and smiled form where she was sitting on the prone form of Aeroprin. "Miss Myrtle! Miss Myrtle! Hoppou is happy to see you!"

With a giggle, Myrtle waved at her. "It is good to see you as well, Hoppou." Continuing her examination of the apartment, she stopped and blinked. "Um, Harry? Why is that sword surrounded by orange peels?"

Eyebrow raised, Harry turned in that direction and sighed some. "Meet Juuchi Yosamu, the Muramasa that belongs to my family... I mean, the Potter side of the family, not the Evans side. She really likes eating blood oranges though she keeps leaving the peels around."

Myrtle blinked and stared at him for several moments before she felt pure smug coming from the sword in question. Even for a ghost who had resided at Hogwarts for over fifty years, a sword liking to eat oranges was something that she had not encountered before. Needless to say, she decided to just ignore that bit for later on before smiling. "I see... Now then, you mentioned showing me the rest of Yokosuka?"

Grabbing her hand, Harry began to pull her along. "Yeah! Come on, Aunt Myrtle! I got so much to show you!'

Brightly smiling, Myrtle gave a wave to Hoppou before letting herself get pulled along by Harry. Several hours, and a number of odd looks later, Myrtle was floating beside him outside of a school. "So this is your old elementary school?" At his nod, she hummed and shook her head. "It's different from the schools that I remember. Might be due to it being newer though."

For a few moments, Harry considered that and then shrugged. "Maybe? I mean, it's pretty new as it was practically rebuilt after Blood Week and devastated the area. Over there you can see one of the entrances to the shelters under the school."

Looking, Myrtle only nodded at the sight of the small hill with a concrete edifice built into it. Due to her experience of the Blitz, she could tell that it would shelter a number of students. "I assume that it goes under the school as well?"

Hands in his pockets, Harry gave her a nod. "It does actually. And the shelter itself has room for double the amount of students that actually goes to the school, as required by law. There's similar shelters under all the other elementary, middle, and high schools in Japan. They're also NBC proof."

Confused, Myrtle frowned as she turned to Harry. "NBC?"

Simply nodding, Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, NBC stands for Nuclear-Biological-Chemical. There were biological weapons used at the beginning of the Second World War and you had chemical as far back as the First World War."

Grimacing, the ghost gave a nod. "I remember back during the war actually, that one of the worries was the Germans using gas attacks on Britain. And we were going to use gas as well..." A shudder went through her and she rubbed her arms. "Thankfully, it did not come to that."

Only making a sound of agreement, Harry again grabbed her hand and pulled her along. But much to Myrtle's surprise, it was into the school. As they walked, Harry whispered to her. "You know, Aunt Myrtle, there is a certain legend about schools like this. It is said that in the third floor girl's washroom, there is a ghost named Hanako-San..."

As Harry continued to tell the story in a soft voice, Myrtle listened closely. Then her eyes widened slightly as it clicked and her lips curled upwards. 'Looks like Harry wants me to meet someone.'

Upon reaching said washroom, Harry checked around to make sure that no one was watching and ducked inside. Reaching the third stall, Harry knocked on it three times. "Are you there, Hanako-San?"

Moments later, there was a soft voice from inside. "I am here."

Both Harry and Myrtle turned as the door opened and Hanako walked in before freezing. Not noticing the widening eyes nor the dropped jaw of the Yokai, Harry waved at Myrtle. "Hanako-San, I would like you to meet my Aunt Myrtle. Aunt Myrtle, I would like you to meet Hanako-San-" Before he could get much further, said Yokai let out a loud squeal which made Harry wince even as he grinned. "She's a bit of a fan..."

Rather bemused, Myrtle looked at Harry as Hanako hyperventilated. "Interesting..."

 

[darthcourt10]

Snippet 24: S0ngD0g13

"Uncle James? Can you tell us a story 'bout Great-Grandpa Mike?" asked Boromir as the spiderlings got ready for bed.

Faramir nodded mutely; he'd lost a bet with Monitor and had to keep silent for four days.

James chuckled and nodded. "I've got just the story. Have I ever told you about the North Greene Dirt-Bike Dare?" A pair of shaking heads were his answer. "Okay, back when Dad was in high school, at North Greene, he had a Can-Am dirt-bike, and a bunch of his classmates dared Dad to ride it through the halls of the school; Dad took the dare and they got everything ready so he could do it one Friday."

James sketched a rough square on the carpet with his fingers, showing the layout. "The plan was Dad would ride in through the front door here, make one lap, and ride out the back door. He had two friends to hold the doors open, because he wasn't gonna stop; to hide his identity Dad wore a ski-mask under his full-face motorcycle helmet. Dad roared into the school-building, cut hard to the right down the hallway, and started his lap."

"Now, just as Dad was passing by the Principal's Office, the principal himself, Jack Waddle, came out to see what the commotion was, and Dad almost ran him over before dodging aside. Dad turned the corner, then the next, and made for the back door; Waddle had gotten to the door just in time to see Dad roar outside, pop a wheelie in the parking lot, and then tear off down the road."

James smiled with unvoiced laughter as he finished the tale. "Ricky Phillips, the classmate holding the back door open, turned to the principal with a grin and without missing a beat said, 'Mister Waddle, who was that Masked Man?'."

 

[darthcourt10]

K9Thefirst1

With the idea of other feral Abyssals joining Porta's fleet, an idea hit me to showcase the sort that her highness is especially interested in: Civilians.



The Shepherd Carrier


Woë was a Wo-Class aircraft carrier. She was born during the Reign of the Elder Princesses, an Age where the rulers of the Abyssal race were supreme. An Age that came crashing down in the months following The Order that was given, as the Elder Princess' all died or disappeared one after the next. Woë's keel was laid in a slip of Middle World Ocean's throne on the very day that the attacks began and was launched and sent to war two months later. Things were fine, Woë carried out her missions without complaint, and for a two-week period possessed the Sixth Rank of the fleet in accuracy of her bombers, and her fighter pilots ranked seventh in Kill-Death ratios!

For much of that time, Woë had a constant escort, a battleship named Ruthenia, and the pair were inseparable, best mates. Many were the fights where Ruthenia was able to figure out a way to drive off, avoid, or destroy the human and later shipgirl fleets who tried to engage them. Together they and their task force was unstoppable! Middle World Ocean Princess even acknowledged their success! Despite being busy with her… Hobby? Sure there was the widespread resentment for her ill-conceived campaigns, designed as afterthoughts to her musings on The Bronze Age, but still! The Princess noticed them! Ruthenia wasn't impressed, but Woë had the enthusiasm to spare. And then… Everything changed.

It was a rumor at first. Someone actually ascended, becoming a Princess! Everyone had thoughts and ideas about how it came to pass and why. But there was no word from Her Highness about the rumors, only that 'a traitor had been amongst the fleet. And dealt with.' Then, almost two weeks later, a So-class submarine was seen by the whole fleet to glow, and the next day she was more powerful than she had been, and her body drastically changed. She was more regal, more graceful… A Princess in every way, save for the innate Power of an Elder Princess. And within the hour, Middle World Ocean had her brutally, and bloodily, executed. The Princess then decreed that any who ascended were blasphemers and traitors, and would be dealt with accordingly. The decree was acknowledged without question… But it did not stop what Her Highness called an insurgency. But it didn't stop the epidemic. Every other week, one Abyssal or another would express the distinctive glow, and were either excommunicated from the fleet to be sunk by the humans, if not killed by the Princess herself. And as the incidents mounted, these ascended Princesses had more and more supporters. Until at last, five months into the war, the former Wo-Class Worpal, ascended to an Armored Aircraft Carrier Princess, sparked a civil war when her entire task force refused to either sink her or abandon her. In the end, they all died within the next two days, and took dozens with them.

Woë didn't know what to think, nor did any in the task force. Why was this happening? Why weren't they winning like they were told they were, why was the fleet falling apart? Ruthenia though, as the bodies mounted, grew more severe, and angrier. And finally, the Ru-Class pulled Woë aside, and said words that, previously, were unthinkable.

"Woë, we can't stay like this. The Princess doesn't care about us, or the war. Stay or go, it is your choice. But I want nothing more to do with her."

"Ruthenia, what are you saying?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm going AWOL. Cutting all ties to the Princess and her fleet, before she gets us all killed. And while I can't force you, I strongly suggest you do the same."

"Wh-why Ru?! She's our Princess! We can't betray her like this!"

The taller Abyssal clapped a hand on Woë's shoulder, a bitter, but warm, smile on her lips.

"I don't have a choice Woë. Stay. Go. I'm dead anyway. May as well try and make the best of it."

"Wh-what?"

That night, Ruthenia showed Woë her other hand. And the pulsing waves of a dim white light playing over her palm.

Woë didn't say a word in the following days. But it was clear to the rest of the task force that something was wrong, and Woë was never good with OpSec. And to Ruthenia's teary-eyed expression, they all agreed to not only help Ruthenia flee the Mediterranean, but they would serve her for whatever might come in the Atlantic. For days they discretely loaded up on provisions and munitions. Ruthenia's plan was to volunteer for a Recon in Force assignment that would take them close to the Strait of Gibraltar. There they would discretely monitor the movements of the Human forces there. And in the cover of night, if everything worked out, they were going to break through. It was a risky plan, and it was more than likely that many of their small band would be killed but it was their only chance.

They didn't travel on the surface, instead they hugged the ocean floor on the coast on North Africa. No other Abyssals had ever even conceived of such a motion. A non-submarine Abyssal was at her most vulnerable while under the surface, unable to use any of her weapons, and virtually blind to any enemies approaching. But observation proved that the humans could hear the engines running and propellers churning of anyone passing the strait. But if they walked on the sea bed, and left their engines idle and props still, and stayed out of the main channel, in theory they could move without being detected. For hours none of them said a word, and cautiously and gingerly stepped along the seabed, wary of any sign or sound of human vessels above or submarines around them. Finally, the downward slope of the Atlantic side of the strait could be seen. They were almost free!

PING!

It might have just been a fluke. A submarine accidentally using her active sonar. It may have just been misfortune with a destroyer on a routine patrol doing a sweep. Or it may have been that someone accidentally disturbed a rock or stepped to harshly, and the Humans wanted to verify. Whatever the reason, their nightmare scenario came to pass – The humans discovered them, and none of them were in any position to defend themselves.

And so they ran, even as depth charges and torpedoes rained down on them.

Chit

Neven

Sokai

Rudinat

One by one they all fell. But in the end, Woë and Ruthenia managed to escape. Damaged, and in mourning, but they had escaped. Not to long after that, Ruthenia began to ascended properly. They thought that they were safe. After all, they were in the middle of the ocean, the nearest inhabited bit of land was hundreds of miles away. Again, they were wrong. The humans must have tracked them somehow, or were alerted to Ruthenia's light. Regardless, partway through, the humans came, and the shipgirls fired upon them with shells and bombs. Ruthenia, almost finished with becoming a Battleship Princess, but broken and damaged, and in no way seaworthy, gave her first… And last… Order.

"Run!"

And run Woë did. She somehow managed to lose the humans, and avoid anyone hostile to her presence. And it was during the lonely days and weeks that followed that Woë finally began to process what had happened. The friends she had lost. And how all their sacrifices had been for nothing. And something changed in her in that time. Where once she was an optimistic, perhaps even foolhardy girl, after the run on the strait, the joy in her life was drained away. All that motivated her was finding a fleet to serve and her next reprovision. And so, in exchange for fuel, munitions, and maintenance, she sold her services to any Princess or Demon that would take her. And where she and her pilots were on the Okay side of Mediocre, as the months and years passed they became elite. In time she became flagship tier in quality. And she found herself having the luxury of being able to pick and choose which fleet she would sell herself to. She was among the legends of the Abyss…

And she hated every minute of it.

She hated that the fighting never seemed to serve a purpose. Hated how there was no end in sight, just a long, eternal black tunnel. Hated how these lesser Princesses threw lives away – on either side – for vanity and bloodlust rather than need. She wanted nothing more than to have a way out. But never had a Princess or Demon ever dreamed such a thing. And the one time that she voiced the sentiment to someone she had begun to see as friend, Woë was driven out of the fleet, and very nearly sank because of it.

One day, she received a transmission to all rogue Abyssals in range. It was a Battleship Demon that she had served alongside once or twice over the years, whom she had known as Old Hacker, and she was promising the opportunity for service to any that would take it, provided they swore fealty to her new Princess. Given the range based on the coordinates of the fleet's main base, Old Hacker, or Canut as she was apparently going by now, managed to score a Princess with some sweet industry to manage such upgrades to something as often overlooked as her radio. Woë was in-between employers at the moment, and didn't have anything more pressing, so she turned about and made for the Great Meteor Seamount. Old Hacker greeted her, remembering the carrier quite well – to Woë's great surprise – and they and others began to catch up with what everyone had been up too.

In time, Woë managed to take advantage of a lull in the conversation to inquire about the Princess they were going to serve, and where their host was.

"Oh, she's not here. She and her champion are on some errand of importance. But she ought to be back in a few days."

"Seriously. She orders you to send out a call for us rogues and then leaves? That's a bit inconsiderate ain't it?"

"Nay, she doesn't know about this. Admittedly she'll be surprised no doubt, but I've yet to meet Royalty that will turn down the chance to further fill up her fleet."

Woë wasn't sure what to think… Well, that was a lie. She thought that Old Hacker had finally started to show signs of her age, because as far as the carrier was aware that had 'terrible idea' written all over it. But, as another sign of how much she had changed since the Run on the Strait, she held her peace. Old Hacker – presumably – knew this Princess well enough to gage her goals and personality. And if not, well, the fireworks were no doubt going to be interesting

And it was. The Princess – a friggin' Elder Princess of all things! – and her Champion – a dirty great big ocean liner with a very palpable vicious streak a mile wide – arrived, looked at the assembled crowd and said…

"Canut, tell me… What manner of fresh hot bullshit is this?"

In her bridge, there was a great cheer from a number of her Imps as they proceeded to exchange winnings.

Normally, Woë would have turned and left, as she noted a few others do. But… Old Hacker was one of the few that she could come close to calling friend after leaving the Med. She owed the old salt the curtesy of seeing what became of her. And she wasn't alone, most of those that came – including a battleship sporting a friggin' Scottish kilt of all things – stayed for the three days that the Princess and Old Hacker were locked away.

When the Princess, that through the grape vine she had learned was recently going by "Porta" or "Atlantia" or some such, ordered that Old Hacker was to be branded, Woë was impressed by her restraint. Most Princesses or Demons would have just killed Old Hacker in as gory a fashion imaginable in order to re-established who was top dog. Granted, there were those that were disgusted with it, whispering amongst themselves that they had no interest in serving a Princess without the stomach to do what needed to be done. Woë ignored them, she had served plenty of Princesses that 'did what needed to be done.' Hell, that's why she and her friends abandoned Middle World Ocean. But then Princess Atlantia addressed those like her, who had come based on Old Hacker's request…

"If thou art selling thy swords, I have martial arms enough, but if thou maketh a truly worthy account of thyself, We shall grant due consideration before deciding. If thou art like Canut in that thou hast skills or knowledge or lore to teach, We shalt be glad to contemplate thou amongst Our realm. And if thou art tired of war-craft. And thou seekest to turn thine arms to tools and homestead a pastoral life… Well. We wouldst be in greatest interest in that."

For the first time in a long while, Woë felt her ever-present cloud of hopelessness lift some. That tunnel had the faintest pin-prick of light. If it was another train or not she didn't know, but she couldn't find it inside herself to care: A way out of this Hell!

And so she and those that stuck around lined up before the Princess' quarters, and one by one they entered, and one by one they left. Some were angry or downcast – no doubt being spurned – some were expressing varying degrees of joy and excitement, clearly being permitted to swear fealty to the Princess. And one thing that Woë noticed was that while there were many battleships, cruisers, destroyers and submarines in the group of the pleased, not a single one of the carriers were amongst that number. In fact, while the battleships, cruisers and other ships that had been rejected were all in there for a goodly amount of time, the carriers like her seemed to be in and out in under a minute… That didn't bode well. But in time, it was Woë's turn with the Princess.

When she entered, it was only her and the princess. Her Highness took one look at her and sighed in exasperation, contained though it was.

"My dear, I possess neither the resources nor the industry for maintaining a carrier. So I suggest you save yourself the trouble and find employment elsewhere."

"Did… Did you mean it, your Highness?"

"…Mean what?"

"What you said. About… Not wanting to fight anymore?"

The Princess looked at Woë, properly this time. There was a keenness in her eyes, gears churning behind her visage. Her Highness leaned back in her chair, and laced her fingers before her, resting her elbows on the armrests. Woë gulped, choosing to take this as a positive sign, and began to rapidly think about what she needed to say to what was likely the Princess' next question.

"Go on."

"Well, your Highness…. My name is Woë, originally of the fleet of Middle World Ocean Princess. It's a long story, but I had to leave her service because a friend of mine was in danger of her wrath due to factors beyond her control, and all of our friends died while trying to flee. After we broke out into the Atlantic, she died to the Humans, and ever since I have wandered from fleet to fleet, I have gotten refits and upgrades, and fought so many battles that I've lost count… And… And I'm tired of it your highness. Tired of the pointless death and destruction. If you meant it, and I can just walk away from the war entirely? I'll do it in a heartbeat! In fact-!"

Without a word, Woë went to her knees and started pulling out plane after plane, bomb after bomb, torpedo after torpedo, barrel after barrel of avgas, and her pilots and mechanics all marched out and stood by their planes. And finally, after only a few moments of hesitation, Woë removed her hanger from her head, and laid it next to the equipment. And then she bowed face down on the floor. The Japanese would have recognized it as something similar to dogeza, but any culture would recognize it as a sign of full submission to their new lord and master.

"Your Highness, please, take these offerings as payment for my resignation and purchase of permission to transition to a Civilian life. My planes are all either of the latest or near latest designs common to the Abyss, and nearly all of my pilots are Aces of one category or another, with three being Super-Aces! I know you have not the industry or resources to maintain a carrier, but I have seen a carrier amongst your fleet far more capable than I, have these pilots and their planes serve her, and they will do well."

Woë couldn't see it from her position, but Princess Atlantia stared at her, stunned, and pools of unshed tears collected in her eyes. She took a soothing breath, and waited until her throat did not threaten to clench as she spoke. At long last, with a warm smile she spoke.

"Woë, look at me… It is invisible, but only a few miles to the northeast is an island named Antillia. The Humans once lived there, but they have long abandoned it. There are cities that need to be rebuilt, there are crops that need to be re-established, and there are herds of feral cattle and sheep that need to be redomesticated and defended from the feral wolf-dogs. Name your preference, and I will ensure that you have all the information and tools you need to get started.

"All you must do, is swear fealty to Us."

Twenty Years Later…

And so Woë set aside her tools of war, and repurposed her staff as a shepherd's crook. The first flock she managed to gather counted only ten, but through trial and error and fortune now numbered nearly a hundred. In part it was due to a gift from the Empress five years into her new life, a pair of pups of an ancient herding breed from Anatolia. Those pups had long since grown and died, but their children and grandchildren continued to serve her well. And with each litter, those she has no use for she sells abroad as workers or pets.

Of course, for the retired Wo-Class carrier, her true income is the wool of the sheep. She had stumbled on the enterprise entirely by accident. She had originally chosen to be a shepherdess out of finding the dumb beasts cute. But after seeing how they struggled in the heat, Woë took pity on them and fashioned a blade to shave them. It was only after the Abyssal War in the Atlantic was truly ended years later that she was informed that the mountains of wool were worth something. At first she sold them to merchants that came to the twin islands of Antillia and Meteor, but soon enough other Abyssals seeking a civilian life started up their own businesses, one of which was a cloth business. And the pair by now had a strong partnership where she got all of the wool from Woë's sheep, spun it into thread and/or wove it into cloth in exchange for a pretty coin and free replacement robes.

But it wasn't always easy. When the cities of Antillia were being re-established and rebuilt, Woë found that she couldn't go and let her flock graze as freely as she used to. There were farms being restored, and the grasslands her flock depended on were at risk of being utterly eradicated. Fortunately the Empress, in her foresight and wisdom, had several solutions readily available from her observations of the Human civilizations. None of them could be called absolutely perfect, but Woë, the farmers, and the townsfolk found that – outlying individuals incapable of being happy if they have nothing to be unhappy about aside – everyone could live with what was ultimately decided.

It was night now, and Woë and her flock had settled in for her favorite spot on the whole island. It was right on the coast, and near the point where Antillia and Meteor were at their closest. Sometimes, when the moon was in the right spot, there would be an especially low tide, and the peoples of both islands could walk the two-mile distance… Granted that was the faster walkers, everyone else would need to swim the last few yards when the tide came back in. But still, it was quickly becoming a national festival of the Abyssinian Empire.

But for Woë, it wasn't about the quirk of geology or tides. It was the view. Her Majesty had decreed that light pollution was to be controlled as strictly as any other sort, rumored to be as part of an effort for Antillia to be awarded a World Heritage Site. The result was that the brilliant stars filled the night skies like diamond dust tossed onto a dark canvas. And with the Meteor Island and the Palace in the foreground, it was probably the most beautiful sight Woë ever saw. And it was all hers.

"Yes," she thought, not for the first time, while rubbing the tummy of one of her dogs, "this? This is paradise…"

 

[darthcourt10]

Harry Leferts

Walking up to the door to the Victorian style home, Percy took a moment to look at the key in his hand. Sure, he still had one year of schooling at Hogwarts left, but still. Once he graduated next June, he would have a home waiting for him. More then that, he also knew that due to the Vanishing Cabinets that would be placed into the basement, he was certain to have visitors in the form of both Ooyodo and Supprin coming over.

Quite possibly, if he was reading their hints correctly, often.

The sound of the boards of the patio behind him creaking made him turn with an internal sigh. Behind him and looking curiously was a woman in a linen dress that hugged her form along with an odd headdress as her dark, black hair while a gold neckpiece hung against her chest. In many ways, most would assume that in looks, she was a textbook example of an Ancient Egyptian noblewoman of some sort. Of course, those same people would not realize just how close they really were to the truth.

At seeing Percy turn to her, she gave a smile before gesturing at the building and speaking something. She then waited as a small fairy on her shoulder in Ancient Egyptian clothing turned to the red head and nodded. "Hotep hotep hotep hotep hotep. Hotep, hotep hotep."

Eyebrow raised, Percy blinked a bit. "What is it made of?" The fairy then turned back to the woman and spoke what he said back to her. When she nodded, he chuckled some. "It's made of wood, except for the foundations and the chimney, those are made from stone." The woman's eyes widened slightly before they became thoughtful as she looked at the wood. Walking up to the door, she reached out with one hand and ran a finger along the polished wood. Percy then turned back to the lock and slid the key into it before turning. Opening the door, he gave her a smile. "Well, come in then."

Behind him, Amisi followed as she looked around the odd building. Granted, since she gained her... current form... she found much odd about the world. From the fact that they spoke different languages, to the food, and more. No longer for instance did the people of the Nile worshipped the gods she was familiar with. Her Pharaoh, though she realized that he no longer remembered her much to her own pain, brought her to this strange land. The temperature was much cooler here, sometimes more like Egypt shortly after the Sun of Ra had lowered below the horizon. As well, Amisi saw trees everywhere they went. Including large groups that her Pharaoh had told her were called 'Forests'.

Thinking of that and looking around, it was not hard for Amisi to realize that must be where they got the amount of wood to create such a large building. Perhaps it was not as large as the palace she knew her Pharaoh once called home, but looking at the various wood lined walls and such? She nodded to herself as it was suitable. Using her 'Fairy' to speak with her Pharaoh and vice versa reminded her of something that continually irritated her. Both of them spoke entirely different languages separated by the gulf of time.

A gulf of time... One which had been explained by her Pharaoh bit by bit. Over two thousand years had passed since the last she had felt the touch of the waters of the Nile. Quickly, she shook that thought off as she continued to follow him through this large building. There was a stop near what he explained to her was a 'fireplace' where they would set fires to warm the home. Then came the kitchen which she nodded at, though she gave a look at the odd, large rectangular device. Something called a 'Refrigerator' which kept itself cool inside to keep food fresh.

It was still a source of amusement as her Pharaoh, and others, had assumed that she would think that it was magic. No, she knew better then that though in some ways it might as well have been. She had been surprised at her first sight of electric lights until it was explained that humanity had somehow come across a way to control the bolts of light from the storms. Much in the same way that one leashed oxen to a plow, useful but dangerous if one was not careful.

Of course, Amisi knew that the gods, probably Thoth, had inspired whoever come up with the method.

Soon, the two climbed up the stairs and Percy turned to her with a smile on his face before gesturing at the various rooms. "Yes, my Pharaoh?"

The fairy then turned to the red head and spoke the same words she did to her ear. Amisi was still not quite sure how or why that was, but Percy had explained it as being that the dead could speak to anyone and make themselves understood. Unknown to him, she had smiled at that fact. Meanwhile, Percy was nodding at the fairy and chuckled. "Well, I thought that if she was going to stay with me, then she should be able to have a room for herself. The Master Bedroom is mine, but she can have any of the others on this level."

With a raised eyebrow, the fairy turned back to Amisi and spoke to her. Moments later, her eyebrows widened at what she was being told. A room? Just for herself? That was surprising and said quite a bit. Soon after, she found her room and looked around it. In fact, she had already picked out the place where she was going to place the household shrine. Something her Pharaoh had forgotten, though she remembered for him.

Percy then turned around and told her that while they were examining the room they would not move in right away. But also reminded her of what was to happen in a few days. While she was not sure what a 'Tea Set' was, the fact that it was a spirit of one like she was of a ship was not surprising. That it was going to be married to a 'Battleship' though was.

After all, a small shiver ran through her the first time she had actually seen one of these 'Battleships' up close. Back when she was upon the Nile, none would have thought to build a ship with metal. It was too heavy and what would be the point. But then she had seen one of the metal ships up close. Ones that crossed entire seas as if they were the gods, and perhaps in a way they, and her, were. Next to them her old form would have been small, insignificant. At the sight of one passing her, she had felt her crew freeze and stare at the behemoth.

But even the ones called 'Corvettes' were so much bigger then anything that had existed in her day.

Unlike her, they did not use arrows or slings to fight. Instead they had what was described as 'Cannon' that could fire metal projectiles large distances. Some of which exploded as soon as they hit. It both interested and frightened her to some extent. It was not magic, or at least what she was familiar with. From the explanations she had been given though it was all a product of some form of alchemy. That she could understand even if it made her uneasy. However, considering that the Sea Devils had returned, she could not fault them. More then a part of her wished that her homeland had such during the time the Sea Devils had roamed.

The very first Battleships that she had met were named 'Warspite' and 'Duke'. Though considering that she had been told that 'Duke' was also a noble rank. Which meant that Amisi was rather confused as to why she was referred to as her rank. But just the same though, she was impressed with the youngest brother of her Pharaoh in this life. While perhaps in her day they would have been considered strange, Amisi still understood how his two wives were most beautiful. Many actual Pharaohs' would have liked them as wives after all.

Granted, she was still unsure why her Pharaoh's brother had not fathered a child yet with them. Both Warspite and Duke were in their childbearing years after all and the brother was also old enough to father a child. Her Pharaoh had an odd reaction to her asking him such while his brother had gone red right to his ears. One of the wives, Duke, had sputtered her drink.

It may not have been as good of beer as she was used to, but Amisi still found it a waste.

Of course, that was when Warspite gave her a glare despite the blush on her face. Even her offering to ask Bast for favor in them attempting to have a child worsened things. Something that still confused Amisi at the time. She was explained though that in this age, it was not thought of as a good thing for one to get married so young or to have children at such an early age. If anything, that only confused her more. What if one got sick? One should not waste time after all.

But apparently things were done differently in the current time. While that meant that a number of ideas she had for her Pharaoh had to be put off for the moment, it simply gave her more time to convince him that she was worthy of being a wife. And there was also this 'Ooyodo' and 'Supprin' that she would need to meet to see if they were worthy of being his wives as well. Not that she expected them not to be, a fool her Pharaoh was not...

 

[darthcourt10]

Snippet 25: S0ngD0g13

Casca drank from a wineskin, enjoying the sun on her face; the lean cruiser spread her arms and basked in the warmth with a closed-eyed smile.

"Oi, Casca," said one of her subordinates, a So-Class. Casca and Ruithidh had folded her into the fleet somewhere in the Baltic off Germany; her original name left everyone's tongues tied in knots, so Ruithidh had declared that henceforth the submarine was named Sutherland.

"Yes, Sutherland?"

"I think I recognize some of the other strays that answered the Dane's summons. I'm fairly certain I just saw Haggard Woë go into the Princess' chambers."

"Is that so?"

"Ja, Casca."

Casca passed the skin to Sutherland and shrugged. "I wish her luck, then, talking to the Azores Princess. In the meantime, try the wine; it's the last of the port from the island Ruithidh found me on. Damn-fine tawny-port, if I say so myself."

Sutherland drank, rolled the wine around her mouth inquisitively, then swallowed. "Not bad at all, Casca. For stale grape-juice at least," she said with a teasing smirk. "I hope the Princess doesn't turn us away; let me experiment a bit with the local grains and get a crop of good hops in, and I'll brew you a beer so fine that you'll never drink wine again."

Casca laughed aloud. "Yes, because one sip of your German shark-piss would kill me on the spot."

"Snob."

"Phillistine."

Both suddenly broke out in laughter and sat, passing the wineskin back and forth as they drank. After a long while, Sutherland pulled her diving-knife out of its sheathe and started turning it over in her hands. Casca, recognizing the nervous habit, paused and set the wine aside. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Just thinking, Casca. We, our flotte, have been hired fighters for years; we're skilled at warfare." She traced the minute stains and nicks In the blade, scars of times she'd had to use it in combat. "Ich... I'm nervous; we're all of us fighters, but what if being fighters for so long means we're no good as farmers?"

"I have faith, Sutherland, my friend. You'll brew fine beer, and the first barrel of wine from my vineyard I will send to the Princess as a gift of thanks for her killing Middle World Ocean Princess."

"Why?"

"Middle World killed a friend of mine, a Carrier named Worpal, for ascending to Princess-rank."

......................................................

Ruithidh sat under a shady tree, with Argyll and several other Abyssals from other wanderer bands crowded around her. Canut was in her forge, carefully working metal to create the stamp and signet ring required of her by the Princess.

In the meantime, Ruithidh was holding lessons. "Argyll," she said, producing her bible, "please read from Isaiah." Argyll took out her own bible, its pages copied by hand from Ruithidh's during her lessons and bound in a simple three-ring binder. She flipped to the proper page and found her place in Chapter Two.

"And he shall judge among the nations, and shall rebuke many people: and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruninghooks: nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more."

 

[darthcourt10]

Savato93

Damn site formatting... Fuck it! Switching back to the line breaks I used back when I wrote my own fics.

Alright, second snippet. Here's hoping I did this in an acceptable fashion.


A Bargain

XXXXXXXXXX

"Are you absolutely certain this was the right choice to make, sister?"

Tanith… No, Ruadri mentally corrected herself; she was no longer just a Ta-class. The Northern Water Princess nodded. "Yes. The rest of our kin grow restless. They follow us because we are among the oldest of Mother's children. But without a child of my own, someone I can truly claim as being of my own fleet, then what hope do I have of them accepting me as their new princess?"

Ruadri let out a sigh. Even with her ascension to a Princess, her sister Tanith was all too transparent—desperate for her kin not to reject her in Mother's absence. It would never happen, of course; they all needed one another more than ever.

But could she really fault her for being scared in her current position?

"You know I would follow you to the ends of this world, sister… but to put so much of our remaining raw materials towards the construction of a single ship?" She gestured to the egg before them. Easily taller than they were, the skin leathery in appearance but composed entirely of Abyssal metal, the egg had been incubating for the past month as the rest of the fleet had settled in to their new routine.

"Because the two of us, we are the only capital ships of this fleet. We lack even a light carrier. That disparity cannot stand." The Princess stepped forward and rested a gauntleted claw on the surface of the egg, feeling for the warship nestled within, when a sudden tap against her hand made her jerk back. "It will not stand."

The two battleships stood back as the egg rocked in its cradle. Soft taps began to emanate from the shell, taps that soon turned to muted thumps as the nascent Abyssal within began to beat against its prison in hopes of escaping into life. Ruadri herself watched the scene quietly, but a quick glance to her sister revealed that despite her equally-impassive face, the Princess was practically vibrating where she stood, her body language exuding a mixture of excitement and nervousness and worry.

The thumps were getting louder now, turning into muffled bangs. The metallic shell began to dent outward, the inhabitant's efforts steadily intensifying in strength and frequency. Both elder Abyssals began to feel a tinge of worry, concerned that the hatchling wasn't quite strong enough to break through.

Their worry was unfounded, for at last the shriek of rending metal pierced the air. Off to the side, poking out from a tear in the shell that steadily leaked oily ichor, was a small, pale hand. The hand clenched and flexed briefly, seeming to take in the sensation of fresh air on its skin, before pulling back until only the fingers remained visible. Said fingers were joined by another hand in gripping the edges of the tear and pulling, opening the tear wider. The two battleships watched wordlessly as the hands spent the better part of a minute working a gap in the shell, spreading blackish yolk across the floor in the process. Finally, the hole was wide enough for the newborn to work her head through—a head of short, silky hair, without a doubt the color of pure silver beneath the yolk of her shell, framing an unblemished face.

Both sisters stifled a gasp. An immeasurable gamble, and a success beyond their wildest expectations: a Re-class Battleship.

Ruadri and Tanith now watched giddily as the newborn Re coughed and gasped, taking in her first lungful of air. Lacking the leverage in her current position to finish her task, the Re wiggled her head back into the egg. Taking its place was her monstrous snakelike tail, which clamped the edge of the hole in its jaws, and with a final decisive tear, ripped the egg apart, spilling its contents out on the floor.

It should have been a joyous occasion, but with the newborn Abyssal now in full view, both sisters froze. In an instant, anticipation and glee turned to shock and disgust; the newborn lay curled up on the floor, her bare back on display for them to see—her crooked, hunched back.

And then they looked deeper, and were horrified. Beneath the human skin, there was no symmetry to her hull. What should have been like two mirrored sides of a coin was instead like night and day—one side of the hull visibly distended, the other side considerably flattened. Her superstructure tried and failed to conform to the misshapen hull, skewing what should have been the straight and true lines of her flight deck. Deeper and deeper, their eyes stripped away the layers of the newborn, desperate to find the cause of this anomaly. Every layer deeper, they fought the renewed urge to retch. The deformation was all-encompassing—from the shape of her decks to the seams of her bulkheads.

And at the very core of her being, when they could go no deeper, they saw it.

Her keel.

Warped. Bent. Twisted into something utterly, unspeakably wrong.

Ruadri could bear it no longer. Half-digested fish and bile joined the oily yolk on the floor as the Ru-class collapsed to her hands and knees, vomiting. It was an instinct, a hatred rooted deep in the Abyssals, deeper even than their hatred of Humanity. By their very nature, there was one thing they could not overlook, could not ignore—and now it was staring her in the face, and she could not bear it.

This Abyssal was defective.

No amount of nurture could make Ruadri deny her instincts—this Abyssal… this thing… should not, COULD NOT LIVE. And yet, it did.

Ruadri stood shakily. Mind blank from raw disgust, her body moved on its own. She reached out, feeling for the phantasmal grip and trigger of her 16in. rifles as her rigging manifested around her, and took aim at the thing—

Her frame screamed in protest as something took hold of her guns and heaved, threatening to tear them free from her hull. The screaming became verbal as her screws left the water her feet left the floor and she was flung bodily through the air. In her shock, her body unable to make the call between ship and human, Ruadri's world became nothing but pain as she slammed into, blasted through, and sailed past the nearest wall, continuing to bounce along the ground, before finally coming to a stop when she crashed spine-first into a tree.

Tanith's eyes flickered between her shaking claws and the hole in the wall. "I… what have I…" she whispered.

A sound broke her trance. She slowly turned to the thing newborn. The Re had risen to her hands and knees, trying weakly to stand with her hooves, but the combination of inexperience with feet ill-suited for bipedal walking and the lack of grip caused by the yolk on the floor caused her to slip and collapse back to the floor with each attempt, eliciting a pitiable squeak.

Tanith stared at the newborn's deformed back. Each time the Re tried to stand, she spent several seconds flexing the muscles in her back, straining, trying to straighten out what she simply could not. She was pure, innocent. She didn't yet realize she was deformed.

This wasn't the newborn's fault. It was hers. She had been determined to prove her worth as a princess. To prove to all her sisters she could be depended on. If she hadn't so recklessly pursued this child, perhaps she wouldn't have been born like this… if she had been born at all.

The newborn chose that moment to speak.

"M-mama?"

Tanith's entire body went rigid. The newborn, giving up on standing, now sat on her knees, hugging herself weakly, as bright emerald eyes peeked out from behind yolk-slicked bangs. Her deformed, rigid back forced her to lean against her tail to look up high enough to meet her mother's eyes.

"…what's wrong, mama?" Her voice, soft and weak, was full of fear and concern.

Mother could have fixed this. Without a doubt, Mother could have fixed this. But Mother wasn't here. Without Mother, this battleship could not be repaired. She would be little more than a liability in combat. What would even be the point in training her? And yet, with no way to reasonably contribute to the fleet, she would be nothing but a drain on resources. Putting the newborn down may have been the best option for all involved… but then all of this would have been for nothing, never mind unforgivably cruel to the life she had created.

The newborn attempted once more to straighten her back, strain and discomfort evident on her face as she tried to defy her natural shape. Once more, she failed. She finally gave up, slumping over into what fate had deemed to be her natural posture, whimpering. "What's… what's wrong with me, mama…?"

With those words, her choice was made. This newborn didn't deserve to suffer, to die, for her mistake.

The Princess rushed forward and pulled the newborn… pulled her daughter into a hug. "Nothing…" she told her gently, fighting back the urge to break down sobbing. "There is NOTHING wrong with you. And I will NEVER… let anyone try to tell you otherwise… my Regalia."

Outside, Ruadri coughed and wheezed where she lay, struggling to clear the stars from her vision as her body ached. Two questions were prevalent in her mind: How? And Why? A brief attempt to move her guns left her biting back a pained howl—her turrets no longer sat properly in their mountings, grinding and screeching as they struggled to turn.

By the time she recognized something coming her way, the Princess already stood over her. Her arms were wrapped tightly around the thing, in defiance of the ichor that coated its body staining her precious fur coat. The thing clung to her in return, head nestled in her bosom, arms wrapped around her waist. As Ruadri opened her mouth to speak, to question her sister's betrayal, the Princess's monstrous rigging deployed, and every single gun turned to bear on her.

Even through the bloody tears, through the choked-back sobs, Her will was absolute.

"You… will not… harm my child."

XXXXXXXXXX

Ruadri glanced to her sister, who was staring off into nothing, deep in thought atop her throne. She'd seen her current expression several times before. "Thinking of that day again?"

The Princess blinked, focusing on the Ru-class. "…perhaps."

"You don't need to be coy, Tanith. I recognize the look on your face when it comes to mind. My turret rings still ache from that day." As Ruadri rubbed her arms, suppressing a wince, the Princess's face reddened in a rare display of embarrassment. "It typically means she's gone and done something... I'm guessing it has to do with the fire yesterday?"

The Princess nodded. "…Yes. Regalia wants to… grow crops for the fleet. She was… making herself a place to work."

Ruadri raised a single eyebrow. "Is that so? Where does she intend to find these crops she hopes to grow?"

"She…" The Princess leaned forward and buried her face in her hands. "She went… home."

Ruadri's other eyebrow rose. "Oh."

That would certainly explain her somber mood. The old place was a touchy subject for them all… except Regalia. For better and worse, the child of a new generation wasn't burdened with memories of a time before.

"It means everything to me… that she wants to help our fleet." Her sister's voice was shaky. "But to put herself… to put us all… at such a risk…"

"You're not certain how to punish her actions."

The Princess shook her head. "No… no punishment."

That surprised Ruadri. "Tanith, I know what Regalia means to you, but this isn't something that can be easily ignored. She may still care for you as her mother in the end, but if all she gets for going behind your back and getting herself into trouble is a stern talking-to, she will not respect you as her Princess."

"And what do you suggest I do?" the Princess looked back up and glared at her. "She is already doomed… never to sail into battle alongside her comrades… thanks to her… deformity. She does not patrol… she does not participate in combat exercises… she does not play with the others. These crops would be… her first true responsibility. I cannot take that from her. What CAN I take?"

Ruadri tried to offer a rebuttal, but she inevitably drew a blank. "…I… I don't know."

The Princess scoffed. "And neither do I."

The two were silent after that, until Ruadri stepped forward. Reaching out, she gripped her sister's shoulder. "Faced with such indecision… looking after a single child. To think Mother… was able to care for hundreds…" Tanith chuckled weakly. "How disgraceful."

"Yes, Mother was extraordinary." Ruadri agreed. "The world is significantly bleaker with her loss. But that does not make your efforts insignificant. Just imagine if it wasn't you. Think of how some feral princess would have punished Regalia." The mere mention of the possibility made her sister clutch the edges of her throne, unable to suppress the shudder than ran through her body. "See? Any other princess wouldn't think twice of throwing her to the sharks. For you to hurt anyone in your fleet is all but unthinkable to you. We may not live up to Mother's greatness, but that is not our responsibility. Our responsibility lies in the wellbeing of our sisters… and your daughter. We cannot let them down."

"I…" Tanith worked her jaw. Finally, with a sigh, she nodded. "You're right. Our concerns lie… in the here and now. Thank you, Ruadri."

"It's the least I could do for my sister. May I?" At her sister's nod, Ruadri took a seat next to her on the throne. "So… Regalia wants to farm. Not quite what you'd expect of a Re, but then again, she was certainly unique to begin with."

"…yes… regarding that…" Tanith began tiredly. "An hour after… I approved her request… she returned to me… and she said to me… 'I have no idea how to actually farm.'"

The clang of metal on metal drowned out the slap of flesh on flesh as Ruadri brought a hand to her face. "I don't know why I'm surprised. For all her differences, she IS still a Re."

XXXXXXXXXX

"…Ah-cho—"

BOOM.

Regalia froze. Twisting around to glance back, she stared at her tail, which gave her a look of total innocence despite the smoking barrels.

"I really hope that doesn't hit anything important."

XXXXXXXXXX

"So… Regalia snuck off to get some crops to plant, risking exposure for our entire fleet in the process, but she has NO IDEA just how to go about her farming venture." Ruadri shook her head in exasperation. "And I doubt one sack of potatoes is enough for her to find the correct method by trial and error."

"And I will not endanger… my fleet or my daughter… by approving an expedition back to that place… to find more." The Princess sighed. "To complicate the issue further… the twins lost… one of their nets. Even with a miracle… Regalia cannot hope to make up for that loss with her crops."

Ruadri was silent for a few moments, thinking. "…I may have a way to solve both problems, if you'd be willing to hear me out."

The Princess grimaced. Her sister's plans were always mildly worrying. "What does it entail…?"

Ruadri grinned.

XXXXXXXXXX

"So, how's the wife?"

Marcus looked up from the net to his partner. "Less than thrilled. Stacy let me fucking have it when she found out I've been coming out here, putting my life on the line just to catch some fish."

Horton shrugged. "Eh, you can't let her get to ya. Even with that Aleutian princess dethroned, the big-time fisheries are too scared to return to this region… which means nobody's here to fight us for the biggest hauls."

"True, that." Marcus chuckled. "We're the only reason the local seafood joints are still open, am I right?"

Horton was silent. "Hey, Horton! What's got you clammed up all of a sudden?"

Marcus was answered by someone clearing their throat directly behind him. Jumping from the sudden noise, he swiveled… and froze at the sight of a pair of Tsu-class light cruisers hanging leisurely on the railing of their boat.

"'Sup," one of the Abyssals greeted them in a husky female voice, muffled somewhat by the helmet it wore. Taking advantage of their stunned silence, the two hoisted themselves over the railing and onto the deck. "You guys have a minute to chat?"

"…Horton, get on the radio," Marcus whispered hoarsely.

To the shock of both men, as Horton reached for the radio, the pair of cruisers held up their hands, seeming… panicked? "Nonono, please. That won't be necessary. We're not here to fight, we just want to talk," the first one answered.

"We make a living fishing, same as y'all do. We wanted to work out a trade, is all," the second added.

Horton slowly took his hand away from the radio. "Trade?"

"Yeah. You see, my sis and I—" the Tsu gestured to its companion, "the two of us provide all the food for our fleet. It's a small fleet, but that's still a lotta work for just a couple cruisers—"

"And we're all kinda getting sick of eating the same stuff all the time," the other Tsu interrupted.

"—so another one of ours got the idea to plant some crops. Which is smart, but before that can take off we got a couple problems. First, none of us know how to grow anything, and we don't have enough of the crops we scavenged to experiment and find the correct way to do it on our own." The Abyssal produced a fishing net and showed it to them, revealing the gaping hole in it. "Second, we got a bluefin caught in our nets. Now we risk a food shortage unless we can replace it quick."

"So we came out here, waiting for a passerby we could call down to bargain for the things we need." The second one pointed at them. "And that happened to be you two fine gentlemen. Will you be so kind as to hear us out?"

"What will you do if we say no?"

The Tsu cocked her head. "We're Abyssals, whaddya THINK we'll do?"

Her partner, however, slapped her and turned back to the two. "In that case, we give you a map, a compass, and a lifeboat, and take your vessel for ourselves. Gotta keep up appearances."

Marcus and Horton shared a look. Horton shrugged weakly. "Beats dying. It'd suck to lose the boat, though."

With a sigh, Marcus turned back to the cruisers. "What's your offer?"

"We need new nets. Large, ideally good quality, maybe some spares to go with them. We also need some books on how to grow food. If you can get that stuff for us…" The Tsu reached to the satchel at her side and brought out something that made both men gape: a pair of ornate, pure-gold drinking goblets, studded with a variety of multicolored gems and pearls, not a hint of tarnish on either of them. "…We'll pay you with these."

"I, uh… wow." Horton stared at the treasures. "Seems like a rather hefty reward just for some nets and books."

The Abyssal shrugged. "They're just cups, far as we care. They'd probably be food for less civilized Abyssals. So, will they be sufficient?"

The two men turned to one another, quietly debating their decision. Finally, the two turned and nodded. "Sounds reasonable enough. You've got a deal."

The Tsu nodded. "Glad we could come to an agreement… oh, but one more thing…" She raised a finger. "This needs to be a secret between us. We're putting our fleet at risk just talking to you two. We just wanna be left alone, don't want shipgirls showin' up at our doorstep for this… and if they do, we'll know exactly who led them to us. Don't think we won't be able to track you down. Are we clear?"

The two men went a little pale, but they nodded. "Our lips are sealed."

"Alright." The two cruisers turned and walked over to the railing. "We'll check back here in a week. Sound good?" The men nodded again. "Great. Pleasure doing business with ya." And with that, the two leaped over the railing and onto the water, taking off to the south. After a few minutes, they were out of sight.

It was minutes later before one of the men finally broke the stunned silence. "Stacy's gonna kill me."

XXXXXXXXXX

"I'll be quite honest." Ruadri stood in front of the twins, a smile on her face. "I did not expect this to work as well as it did."

Tsunami shrugged. "Goes without saying, it's a lot easier to get to humans to listen when you're not reminding them every few sentences how much you wanna kill 'em."

Tsubasa brought out the goblets and handed them over to the battleship. "You sure the Princess'll mind letting some of these go?"

Ruadri shook her head. "We have several dozen just like them. If humans find them valuable, there's no reason not to put them towards our fleet's well-being. Now come, I'm sure the Princess will be happy to hear of your success."

As they made their way back to the village, Tsubasa spoke up, a note of bewilderment in her voice.

"Hey, do either of you guys see that dead blubber-thing out in the shallows? Looks like it got hit by a stray shell or something."

 

[darthcourt10]

dan-heron

Another snippet In the daily life of a totally normal Abyssal. This was actually supposed to be the beginning, rather than the one with the festival preparations, but eh, inspiration came for the other bit first.

== ==

Suiren, formerly known as a Supply Depot Princess, stared at the woman looking around a garbage container. "Stop picking trash from the streets," she growled behind her scarf and the other woman simply raised a hand, waving her dismissively, not even bothering to stop her search.

"It's not trash if somebody else needs it," the other woman replied before letting out a whoop of triumph. "Nice!" she held up a telephone card, sporting a young woman showing off her swimsuit underneath her clothes. Oh risky. "See?"

Suiren let an eyebrow rise, very, very slowly. "Just buy it if you need one that much," Suiren groaned, shaking her head in disgust.

"It's not about buying them, it's about finding a classic like this one!" the other woman stood tall, at least two heads taller than Suiren. "I can cash at least a couple millions out of this one! Sucks to be the one who lost it!" she flashed a roguish smile at the bespectacled girl, pocketing the card in her leather jacket.

The former Supply Depot Princess shook her head, better let it go than get dragged into the insanity. The last time five times had been more than enough for a lifetime… Who knew a taxi could outrun an attack helicopter… "Hey, stop giving my number," she growled.

The former Southern Ocean War Princess laughed. "One of your numbers," the Amazonian abyssal replied unrepentant, and Suiren had to agree, that was one of the safer ones. "So?"

Suiren sighed. "Oda's takoyaki place, around ten tonight," she replied in annoyance. "I'm not your damn secretary, you know?"

The former Southern War threw her head back, barking a laugh, "C'mon, you know you miss the job."

"Like hell I'm gonna miss looking after idiots again."

"Kinda do," the taller woman pointed at the grocery bags Suiren was carrying and the bespectacled girl growled in annoyance. "So, what family is coming after my toned ass this time?"

"Didn't bother asking," Suiren shrugged carelessly and the other girl laughed.

"Well, Ryotaro promised me I would get a workout this time, I hope they bring more than just one family," she threw a few punches to the air and then threw a salute to Suiren. "See ya later, gotta make the rounds!"

The taller woman took only a few steps before Suiren suddenly called her out. "Sur," the boisterous girl looked back over her shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"Make sure to clean up before you come back, and don't stay too late," Suiren said firmly and the taller woman rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah," came the annoyed reply. "Yakuza blood doesn't exactly come off easily, ya know?" she said with a chuckle.

Suiren narrowed her eyes. "Sur… old man Hiro waited all night until you came back last time."

Sur winced, throwing a look at the apartment where their old neighbor lived. "Uh, yeah, I know."

"I think you made him cry, Sur," Suiren loomed over Sur, despite the almost half meter of difference in their height.

"It wasn't my blood!" Sur hissed, sounding as uncomfortable as she looked. "It kinda was my fault it fell on me, but, urgh, you know what I mean!"

"Then buy new clothes before coming back," ordered Suiren coldly. "You will be the death of poor Hiro. You could see the light in his house still on all-."

"Okay, I get it! Stop twisting the damn knife!" Sur fidgeted with her jacket, pulling a little on her long ponytail.

"Alright, then," Suiren nodded. "Don't' let me keep you from your day," she nodded.

"Fine, smartass...," Sur muttered in a sulky voice, hands shoved in her pockets.

Suiren looked at her friend go with a shake of her head. "They really need another rite of passage, something better than throwing their guys at her and hope they don't get too beaten up."

--

Sur is basically a Yakuza protagonist, going around Japan punching things, helping people in their everyday lives, taking odd jobs, feeding animals on the street, kinda becoming the owner of part of the city completely unintentionally, you know, the whole deal.

Trusting her gut feelings, determination and punchy fists, making people's lives a little better than yesterday

I may have been watching the Scrublords playing Yakuza when I was thinking of this snippet a while back. A chain of helping people that keep growing completely by chance, almost as if Lady Luck was taking the weirdest and most unusual encounters and tossing them at the Southern Ocean War Princess

I'll probably try writing something more tomorrow

 

[darthcourt10]

Shaithan

Legends

Retribution sailed across the waters of the North Sea. Her goal was to break out into the Atlantic, Heligoland Princess had been a welcome rest stop, but with two massive navies converging on her position, there was no hope. The Princess had decided to make a stand, but Retibution knew it was futile. The jaws were closing around the doomed fortification. She had seen the fleet assembling in the south through her planes. Twenty battleships and battlecruisers, a lot of additional cruisers and destroyers and a veritable army of submarines. And from what she had heard in the north a similar navy assembled. Hammer and Anvil were converging and Heligoland Princess would be crushed between them.

With a hum, she scanned her surroundings, when her eyes fell upon a strange vessel. Gleaming in resplendent gold in the early morning sun, it made the Re-class grin.

Aboard the ship, meatbags in armor were milling about the deck, pointing at her with obvious agitation.

Retribution laughed at the pointless arrow one shot at her, savoring the unbelieving shock when the arrow simply bounced off her.

The comrades of the unlucky meatbag laughed at his misfortune, but soon their eyes were again upon her.

Retribution sailed closer to the vessel, only to suddenly stumble. The water under her keel had turned solid. And the meatbags on the golden vessel disembarked.

One of them, a leader of sorts with just a horn at his side sneered at the puzzled Re-class. "Foul spawn of Niflheimr, you've sailed to your demise," he declared.

Retribution laughed. "Is that so?" she asked slowly.

With idle curiosity she noted that the meatbags had surrounded her, brandishing swords.

"These heroes wield the finest weapons and armour master smiths like Wieland and Alberich ever created!" the speaker declared. "Weapons whose names are known after centuries!" he continued, daring the Re-class to object.

Retribution pondered this. "So, they are old?" she gave back with a sneer.

Before any answer could be forthcoming, Retribution sprang into motion. With a lunge at the nearest meatbag, she grabbed the sword. "What can it do?" she demanded to know.

"This is Rosen! Masterfully crafted dwarven work!" its wielder gave back. "It cuts through steel and stone like butter!" he boasted.

Retribution laughed, giving a mighty jerk and ripping the sword from its wielder's hand. "No, it doesn't," she observed, showing her unharmed hand and the deformation her grip had inflicted on the blade. With a grin, she closed her hands around the blade, shattering it. "Pitiful trash," she observed, before grabbing the shocked wielder of the sword. "Tell me, meatbag, do you fear death?" she wanted to know. "You shouldn't. You should pray for it to release you from me," she stated while slowly crushing the meatbags's arms in her grip.

The other meatbags took that as a cue to intervene, swords flashing and hitting the unfazed Re-class.

It took less than a minute for her to become annoyed with it. Even with nothing being able to harm her, getting hit over and over got tedious fast. With an annoyed grunt, she kicked her first victim away towards the horizon, reasonably sure that the meatbag was dead. Her second victim seemed assured of his armor. Retirbution punched clean through it. "Masterfully crafted?" she sneered. "More like trash from a bygone era that has no place in a fight any more!" she declared.

One by one the men were torn to pieces, ancient weapons shattering against Abyssal steel, ancient armor pointless before Retribution's punches. "Is that it, meatbags?" she demanded to know.

Finally, only the speaker remained. Retribution turned her guns on the vessel of the men and opened fire with her smallest guns, shredding the golden vessel. "I do not care what you are," Retribution remarked idly. "But you are obviously of the past," she continued, slowly coming closer.

The speaker backed off, obviously terrified. Retribution jumped forward, grabbing him by the throat. "Kneel!" she commanded, exerting pressure and forcing the man to kneel. "Pitiful remnant of a bygone age, remember this in death. Your names, deeds and legends? They only mean you're old and the old will be torn asunder for the new to arise. I am the new. I am the future. And anything you are matters not. Heroes are dead and forgotten, remnants of a stupid age. Gaze upon the glory of the future and despair!" Retribution declared grandly.

Freyr looked and he could see. Men getting torn apart by bullets, men choking on gas, trenches as far as the eye could see, endless barrages of explosions, a world where the very concept of honor was trampled under millions of marching boots. Massive warmachines tearing through the landscape, cities reduced to burning rubble and over it all, there was a haze of hate. Nations so driven by hate, hybris and duty that mercy itself was deemed a character flaw. There was no place for heroes, this was a time for millions to march into graves. Under the sea, on the sea, on land and in the sky, Hel was there, reaping the dead by the million. Across vast stretches of land, millions were killed. People were rounded up to be exterminated. A sentence flashed through Freyr's mind. "War is war, and Hell is Hell; for in Hell, innocence is spared."

Freyr wanted to say something, when he realized that the monster holding him in her merciless grip was frozen. "You utter moron!" was the first thing he heard.

Looking around he saw a very annoyed Loki who was busy reassembling the torn apart heroes. "Be very, very happy that you got your little hunting party so thoroughly thrashed and yourself put at the mercy of this monster," he stated idly. "You lost, which means Odin has to kowtow only a bit. Because right now, a few of the more adventurous gods look at the results and they really don't want to chance them being in the same position," he continued, heedless of Freyr's frantic gesturing that as long as Retribution's hands were gripping his neck like that, he couldn't speak.

Loki completely ignored him. "Of course, we couldn't exactly let you be killed by this monster, but that was easily solved. She will not remember it. She will remember smooth, uninterrupted sailing. You, on the other hand, you will sleep with the dogs for the foreseeable future, until Odin thinks you have learned your lesson. It is no longer our time. Beings like her and the counterparts she has. They're the new gods, born not of the fight man against man but machine against machine, industry versus industry. Their very core is different to ours, the vessel or the place is more important than the man. Few could immediately know who Admiral Holland is, but they will know the name HMS Hood. Few would know the names Falkenhayn and Petain, but Verdun looms large," he explained.

Finally, Loki went to the still struggling Freyr. "There, now quit whining," he demanded as he loosened Retribution's fingers.

"How are you doing all that?" Freyr wanted to know.

Loki shuddered. "I have called in a lot of favours owed to me and given out several more to have this little place here frozen in time. There will be payment and you are going to help me repaying these debts!" he announced. "This is old magic, long buried and dangerous. One mistake and it unravels the wrong way. You don't want different parts of yourself aging at different speeds in different temporal directions. This tends to result in the victim ripping apart," he commented, making Freyr pale.

Freyr looked at where his vessel's remnants lay in the frozen waves. "If you beg hard enough, the dwarves may repair it," Loki remarked idly. "Also, you should see this," he added and pointed at Retribution. Though instead of a woman with a massive tail, there now sat a gargantuan ship, utterly dwarving both gods.

"It is no longer our age," Freyr whispered, terrified by the ship and the sheer malevolence its very being represented.

Loki nodded, while handing over the heroes to the Valkyries. "And we need to leave. The spell is ending and I don't want to be anywhere near this monster when it ends!" he urged.

Freyr shuddered, before nodding in assent. Together with Loki, he went to the last waiting Valkyries, riding off. Looking into the distance he saw two ships. And he knew they were doomed. Because he had stalled the monster.

Retribution shook herself as the spell ended. What had she been doing? Looking around she saw wooden wreckage drifting around her. "Huh?" she mused out loud. ""What's that?" she continued, picking through the wreckage. Something gleaming caught her eye, something that turned out to be a sword. Picking it up, she examined it, looking at the name engraved on the blade. "Balmung? What does that even mean?" she muttered, before giving the blade a small squeeze. It deformed immediately. With a scoff she held the tip and the pommel in her hands. Readjusting her palms, she brought her hands together, shattering the sword between them and letting the remnants fall into the sea.

It was then that her planes caught her attention. Ships spotted. Two Royal Navy ships. Tentatively identified as HMS Iron Duke (F234) and HMS Dasher (P280). Retribution grinned. Those would be suitable prey for her.

Any thoughts about the strange ocurrence drifted away, there were ships to sink. She gathered steam, readied her planes and guns and set an intercept course. Neither ship would ever see a harbour again. This was her creed. This was what she was there for. To drive the meatbags from the seas, to sink their ships and to kill as many of them as she could.

Heading north, she grinned. It was time to kill meatbags and to remind them why they should stay on land.

 

[darthcourt10]

U.N.Spacy000

I wanted to make additional angry sword noises when I read how Harry wrote more with Juuchi and Honjo being in the same room.

And then somebody here asked for it specifically.

****

Additional Angry Sword Noises

Yes, Juuchi was pleased and smug with how the day's events were playing out. Meanwhile Honjo was lost in thought about something. Maybe she was thinking about the internet and what wonders it could contain. Juuchi knew what the internet contained. It was the largest repository of the floofiest floofers that ever did floof, cats, and shiba inus – the perfect combination of both.
Spoiler: Japanese Dog Best Dog

Oh, and porn. There was even a song for that.

In any event, there was no way that today could become even better.

Unless Honjo decided to punch Juuchi in the face for the inevitable dumpster fire of an internet search result Juuchi conned her to look up and start a fight. That would be fantastic.

Wait, the historians were saying something mildly interesting again. Harry asked about why Honjo was still here, and it turned out her family doubted her authenticity.

Honjo was not amused. In fact, she was glowering in the corner trying to avoid Juuchi's attention. The Muramasa however was able to sense the Masamune's weakness and chose to act decisively. Her remarks would be biting and cut the older blade to the core of her being – or they would have been if Juuchi was not too busy laughing.

Yes, Juuchi would spare her rival's feeling and instead laugh mockingly at her rather than cutting through her ego and shredding it to tatters. She had grown as a blade while serving the Potters and underwent character growth and development during her centuries in England. She was better than that stupid, fictional monk who watched her creator compete with his supposed master – there was more than a century between the two; who was the idiot who claimed they ever met – decided she was when he claimed that Yawarakai-Te was the better of the two swords because Juuchi Yosamu was sharp enough to cleave the wind without moving and fish were stupid enough to swim through her which apparently meant she was blood thirsty beyond compare.

Well, she was, but what did some foolish fictional monk know?

Character growth.

That is what she told Nagato the following day when the exceptionally intense and dedicated mother pressed for details while the sword recounted the events leading up to the reveal that Harry had been in life threatening situations recently and why the sword with the bloodthirsty reputation wanted to have the protective battleship's son taught how to effectively fight with a blade – i.e., her.

That was her story and she was sticking to it.

She even managed to avoid any suspiciously specific denials such as 'I was laughing too hard to form coherent sentences of thought.'

Juuchi did have to clarify that she was laughing at the misfortune of the situation Honjo found herself in and not at the poor, innocent victim's expense.

But Honjo knew the truth. That is why she glowered as hard as she did at the maniacally laughing Muramasa blade.

Juuchi only laughed harder at that, but got herself under control after a few moments.

Then, a historian talked about how difficult it was to get into the room they were storing Honjo Masamune. It was the same room Juuchi Yosamu had been initially stored in – the same room Juuchi routinely escaped from to go back to the Nagato-Potter apartment. The historian got about halfway through the list of why it would be nearly impossible for a thief to get in (or out) of the room before Juuchi lost her composure a second time. Normally, she would just radiate smugness at the knowledge of how she managed to defeat the security the historians set up to protect their relics, but since she was just coming down from a good, solid cackling, she was set off again.

At this rate her prowess of infiltration and exfiltration would be added to her legend soon – possibly even by tomorrow.

This was followed by Harry mentioning his Aunt Myrtle who happened to be a ghost. Normally, this would be odd, but normalcy and Potters rarely went hand in hand, so while this confused Honjo, Juuchi just mentally added this Myrtle to the list of family members she had yet to meet.

The fact that Rose knew Myrtle and that the ghost was a relative on Harry's mother's side of the family did not register in Juuchi's mind since she was too busy grappling with the fact that Harry had slain a basilisk.

Apparently with a sword.

A sword that was not her.

'You did what? With what sword?' Juuchi asked as she agitated and began to radiate annoyance. 'And did you not mention you were a student at this school? Why did you slay the beast? Did the government or school not hire competent warriors to protect you and the other students?'

Honjo stopped glowering at Juuchi and began to pay attention to her former roommate's distress.

"Sorry! This was before I knew where you were," Harry said as he tried to placate the blade.

'That is only part of the point!' Juuchi exclaimed.

"And it was the closest blade... Well, the Sorting Hat dropped it on my head, but just same," Harry said hurriedly in an attempt to get all the facts out in the open.

'Listen, strange hats lying around in dusty old castles distributing swords is no basis for deciding who slays deadly creatures! You can't be expected to wield a martial weapon just because some moth-eaten rag threw a sword at you!' Juuchi all but screeched. 'And it was a magical sword! Do you have any idea how dangerous those can be? What enchantments or curses they have? Did you even take the time to properly identify its properties? What if it killed you because you picked it up!?'

'Something about pots and kettles,' Honjo said but was ignored by Juuchi.

"Besides, I wasn't that good with it," Harry said as he tried to appease what he thought was the rattling sword's slighted pride for not being there.

'You are just proving my point!'

"And sort of hacked at it."

'Stop digging already!'

"Until stabbing it in the mouth and it biting me-" Harry said

'FUCKING WHAT!?' Juuchi roared as she began to rattle again and thought about the last Potter by blood dying before she even had a chance to meet him – and being trapped in a box in storage with Honjo Masamune for what would effectively be eternity given how the wards and magic that maintained the Potter collection worked.

"Whoa! Whoa! I'm okay, I only almost died thanks to Fawkes, a pheonix crying into my wound and-" Harry said as he waved his hands in an attempt to placate Juuchi.

'OH, YOU ONLY ALMOST DIED – THAT IS SO MUCH BETTER. ALL YOU NEEDED WAS A PHEONIX TO CRY ON YOU. NEXT YOU'LL TELL ME YOU FOUGHT GIANT, MONSTROUS SPIDERS OR A SPIDER YOUKAI WITHOUT ADULT SUPERVISION OR A PROPER WEAPON AS WELL,' Juuchi continued unabated.

'Never going to let you live this down,' Honjo said to herself as she began to think of the best way to blackmail Juuchi with how the Muramasa was acting before realizing Juuchi probably thought she meant how Juuchi was not going to let Harry live this down.

'I WILL BE SPEAKING WITH YOUR MOTHER ABOUT THIS SCHOOL OF YOURS,' Juuchi said.

"Somehow, I do not think that your explanation is helping much, Harry-San," one of the historians said after calmly sipping tea.

'NO SHIT.'

"Um, yes, somehow I don't think that it is..." Harry said with a nod after wincing

'WHAT COMPLETE AND UTTER BREAKDOWN OF RESPONCIBILITIES LED TO YOU FACING DOWN A BASILISK?' Juuchi demanded – not that anyone other than Honjo understood her. 'AND WHAT HAREBRAIN DECISION MAKING LED YOU TO DECIDE THAT FACING A BASILISK WAS EVEN FEASIBLE?'

Harry grimaced. His recent years of living with people who actually cared for him clued him into the fact that yet another person was telling him off because she was concerned for his safety. In a desperate attempt to distract the upset sword and get back to the original topic, he said, "Um, right, so the wedding. Aunt Myrtle will be the first guest from Britain to be there. Ron and the others will show up in the next couple of days."

'DO NOT DARE TRY TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT ON ME, HARRY POTTER,' Juuchi exploded at her human.

"So is it true?" One of the historians asked before she chewed on her lip and decided to expand on her question when she saw the others' confusion. "That the Imperial Household is sending a representative to the wedding?"

Juuchi Yosamu froze. She may have spent centuries outside of Japan and been stuck in a box for more decades than she would care to admit, but even she understood what this meant. The fact that she noticed Honjo's attention transition from herself to Harry and the historians at a speed unbecoming of a distinguished sword such as the haughty princess only served to underline the point.

Juuchi would admit – even if it was only to herself – that this was a viable conversation change that she could not ignore in favor of returning to the basilisk and how Harry almost died.

One point to Harry Potter.

She would need to get him back later, though.

"Of course they are. She was the Emperor's Ship for a time and had Emperor Shōwa's Otouto as a crewmember." Harry said with a nod before he scratched his head and frowned. "I'm not exactly sure what sort of relationship Haruna-Oba and the rest of the Kongous have with the Imperial Household, but she was able to speak with the Emperor directly."

On the table, Juuchi once more gave off a feeling of pure smug and pride.

'Oh ho, it looks like the Potter family is growing close with the Emperor's,' Juuchi said to Honjo in a smooth, smug tone that conveyed just how superior she felt compare to the other blade. 'Remind me what your family has done recently again? Other than casting aspersions upon your own honor?'

Yes, Juuchi decided that today was a fine day. Harry was going to stop trying to send her away, she had set up Honjo for future embarrassment, Honjo's pride was dealt a blow, and her own status as well as the Potters in general was being improved with Rose's marriage to Haruna.

Nothing could ruin today.

Honjo Masamune then parodied how Juuchi Yosamu acted in an over the top fashion when the Muramasa learned that Harry had been in a life or death situation.

Oh.

Right.

That.

Today could have been better.

'We are not going to speak of today to anyone else,' Juuchi said solemnly as the S.S. Smug began to list due to taking on water from shots that had been fired.

Honjo smiled but did not agree verbally.

After hours of tense silence where each sword waited for the other to break the truce so they could declare the offender a dog without honor, Harry left with Juuchi.

On the way back to the apartment, words were said, brief hugs were had, a running gag was perpetuated, blood oranges were acquired, and the smug sword's smug reserves were replenished back to their proper levels. Harry's pouting at Juuchi's antics only fed her and made her more powerful.

Yes, tomorrow she would need to broach delicate topics with Harry's mother, but tonight, things were all right.

Harry was safe asleep, Juuchi had blood oranges, and she had online gaming where she could crush her enemies, drive them before her, and hear the lamentations of their women.

Well, it was a bit of a stretch on that last one, but some of the microphones managed to pick up irate mothers lamenting about their sons' poor language and sleeping habits.

That was close enough as far as Juuchi Yosamu was concerned.

 

[darthcourt10]

MageOhki

Off the cuff, so.
*-*-*
Location: Small clinic near U.S. Fleet Activities Sasebo
"Here you go." The kind looking doctor handed an american child a lollypop as she scampered off the examining table and then out of the woman's small clinic. Before the doctor could see another patient, a regal looking woman glided in, closing the door behind her.

"Kwannon." The woman spoke to the Doctor.

"Amaterasu." The named goddess named the other woman in a wry tone. "Come here to lecture me on how the humans and others must stand on their own if they're to grow again?"

The Celestial Empress shot the goddess of Mercy a look. "Considering that it would be me telling you, and you going 'I'm not interfering with their growth, just helping out..' for the ... fifth time, I think?"

Kwannon nodded, smiling. "And when you go how tending to their ills, is not standing, I point out I do nothing that a human can't do, and so forth... Well! Glad to see you don't want to retread the arugement again."

Amaterasu shook her head. "If the other pathenons..." She was interrupted by Kwannon's snort.

"As if they're not doing similar. Have you talked to your brother lately? I know for a fact Hestia is running an orphanage in England, for example. Or Indun in Norway... or Bast in America running an animal shelter..." She shook her head. "Yes, we all promised to not interfere or directly impede their growth. By using our abilities. Agreed, and I haven't. But doing what a human can do, and aiding that way? Ah, no." She paused. "And I know you and a few others have been paying especial attention to one lad, shall we say? Even possibly nudging things?" Amaterasu wouldn't meet the Goddess of Mercy's eyes at the last. Before Kwannon could continue, Amaterasu remembered something.

"... What is Susan'o up to?" Amaterasu asked in dread.

"I suggest you look at the American newspapers, those that focus on their Marines. Odin too, I would suggest. Mabye even Zeus if he can't locate one of his sons... Appears they all got drunk and decided enlisting and fighting alongside was a good idea."

"Oh..."

 

[darthcourt10]

MageOhki

Harry Leferts said:
Now I can't help but imagine that Hachiman, after the battle with the spider, was laughing his ass off.​

Nah.
*-*-*
"Hey, Susano'o." A man talked into a phone. "Know that kid that Inari and the ladies of the court are intrested in?"

*warble*

"Yeah, he added a Ballisk and now that body stealing spider bitch I was trying to kill to his kill count, though I think we got to give the little fluster fox the credit for that kill, but still."

*warble warble*

"Yeah, I know you're in Pearl unable to drop by and hoist a few with the kid, and let him boast of his manly deeds, and Thor and Herc are sulking too... but the question is, what are we gonna do. I'm sure your pride won't let the ladies cosset hm, no?"

*warble warble warble WARBLE!*

"You'll think of some drop for the kids? Cool. I'd let him find a sword, but the bloody Potters got that taken care of, once Juuchi hears of his deeds, think she'll make a point of hanging around?"

*warble* *amused warble*

"Cool, now, I'm going to tell a few people the spiderbitch is dead. Ja ne, Susan'o-sama..."

*warble!*

 

[darthcourt10]

Lord K

Challenge

It all started with Akagi.

Ever since the proposal that there was something magical going on with the ever elusive Scubaru, Akagi had been carefully studying her opponent. Observing, tracking and monitoring her foe from afar, she wanted to try and get a handle on "Scubaru's" real capabilities and what she might face, before trying for a rematch. She had no plans to be caught off guard or left in the dust by previously unseen magical power modes or upgrades once again.

And so she kept an ear to the ground, surreptitiously trying to learn of it's movements and actions in the magical community, as well as the police and traffic reports that never seemed to lead anywhere or come to anything. Looking for where it most regularly and often drove, and how these common courses might influence and shape the driver's overall driving style and preferred battlegrounds, Akagi scoured what parts of the magical world she could easily access without suspicion, for anything that might shed light on her opponent and their potential home mountain.

It was through this particular line of investigation, that she came across the travel guide. A small booklet intended for magical refugees and migrants displaced by the conflict of the last eight years or the struggling wartime economy of magical-Japan elsewhere.

Initially, she was just trying to figure out what the Scubaru was doing in this particular area that even muggle rumors seemed to place it in so regularly. What would draw it with almost schedule-like regularity, to a small town in the middle of nowhere in Hokkaido at least once or twice a week on average?

The Yamainutaira guide solved that question with three particular points almost immediately. Firstly, the town was rife with yokai and other magicals in a way that few other places were these days, and secondly, it was part of a magical breadbasket region for northern Japan. No doubt it was picking up excess raw food stuffs and supplies for it's runs into the Reserves, either at under the table prices, or as out right donations. And lastly, the place was practically a fiefdom for the family of one of the leaders of the J.N.H.R.O., which probably helped explain the access to the first two points in the first place.

Initially, her investigation ends there, and she almost doesn't even bother reading the rest of the booklet. The map doesn't seem to suggest any roads that would be optimal for running touges on, and it looks like the kind of place the Scubaru would be stopping and starting at a lot, in order to pick up goods, rather than racing through.

But then, in a passing glimpse as she reads through the rest of the guide out of curiosity, she comes across it.

The Nine Clan Heads Challenge.

Ninety minutes, to eat nine meals, for a chance to eat free for ninety years. An epic feast of such massive and excessive proportions, it has stymied even giants and dragons. Akagi's curiosity is raised, almost as much as her hunger. How would the spiritually collective appetite of a capital ship kanmusu's machinery and crew stand against such a massive meal?

Partly out of curiosity, and partly out of humor and for the fun of dragging a partner along on this latest endeavor, she eggs Kaga into coming with her for this "expedition" the next time she has leave. The thing is, Zuikaku overhears the conversation as well, and ends up asking if she can tag along too, wanting in on the challenge with a good natured bet that she can beat the meal faster than Kaga. Shokaku thus ends up being dragged along too by default. Then Jun'yo ends up catching word of where they're going and wants in as well, partly for the food, partly for the interest in exploring such a unique magical community, but also because the place where the Nine Clan Heads Challenge takes place is an open bar. That was also about the point that Iowa then declared her intent to become the latest memeber of the expedition, since what could be more American than a good old fashioned eating competition. By the time Ashigara ends up roped into things, because Goto wants somebody capable of running herd on the group if there's drinking going on, Akagi fully accepts that this little weekend trip to Hokkaido for a meal and maybe a drink, has now spiraled entirely out of it's original scope.

Dearly, she hopes for the speed, skill and sanity of the chefs when they turn up.

It is a thought that runs through her mind once more, the day she and six other shipgirls find themselves on the sidewalk of one of the main streets of a cosy little farming town in central Hokkaido called Yamainutaira. Before them, the doors of the bar known as the Golden Ofuda loom, like the modern steel and plexiglass versions of some gate beyond which culinary adventure might lie.

Happily, Iowa palms her hand at the prospect of the upcoming meal. "Well, this looks like the place!"

Curiously, Akagi eyes what of the interior she can see from outside. "It looks entirely like a normal bar?"

"I'm not surprised." Considers Jun'yo, with a glance at the street around them. "Without even trying too hard, I can spot three other places on just this street with muggle repelling wards on the door. What's weird though, is that not all of them have illusions on the front windows or wards on the interior."

Zuikaku raises an eyebrow. "Talk about hiding in plain sight."

"Speaking of sight," chips in Shokaku uncertainly, "Is it just me, or are people starring at us a lot?"

Akgi frown uncertainly. "Now that you mention it, we have been getting a lot of odd glances since we drove through town."

"Well, we are kind of famous," quips Iowa jokingly, only for Kaga to frown and shake her head.

"No. They aren't looking at us. They're looking at Ashigara."

Frowning, Zuikaku looks at the older carrier in confusion. "Wait, how can you be sure of that?"

Silently making her point, Kaga simply points in the direction of where Ashigara is returning from parking the van they hired for the day. Or at least she would be, if she wasn't being momentarily paused and politely stopped by a confused local.

"I'm sorry, but do I know you from somewhere? I feel like I should know you but...."

Politely the Hungry Wolf shakes her head at what Jun'yo realizes is a disguised okami. "I'm sorry, but I don't think so. If it's any consolation, I'm just pass through town today, but I've been getting asked that all day."

"Oh, sorry about that," admits the confused okami apologetically, looking her up and down again as if alternating between trying to see through her current appearance, and confused about something his subconscious is telling him otherwise. "My apologies for that. I guess you just reminded me of someone."

"It's fine," Says Ashigara, before happily bidding the local farewell and catching back up with the rest of the group. At which point however, the Heavy Cruiser's expression turns into one of bafflement.

"In the time it's taken me to walk from where I parked the van to you guys, that is the third person who's asked me if they know me."

Akagi shrugs. "Maybe you're just that distinctive out of uniform?"

Ashigara just shakes her head. "Yeah, but they're asking it as if they think I'm a friend or family, like there's someone or something they keep on confusing me with."

Looking around curiously, Jun'yo contemplates the idea. "Well, maybe you do just look like somebody the locals know? This town is supposed to have a pretty big okami population, and they're known for being big on illusions and transformations to fit in and run this town. Maybe one of them wanted to look like a certain "hungry wolf" in particular?"

"Speaking of hungry wolves," chips in Iowa, "I'm starving. I haven't eaten anything since we left the hotel this morning." Grinning, the battle ship thumbs at the original reason they came to the town in the first place. "I'm thinking it's time for some lunch."

At the reminder, a smile breaks the Red Castle's face. "Iowa's right. This is a discussion we can consider over lunch. Let's go check this place out."

"Right behind you," says Jun'yo happily. "I want to see what these guys have for drinks as well."

Opening the door and entering the bar, the group then take a moment to stand in the entry way, taking in the appearance and decor of the place that they just entered. While the guide had mentioned that the bar wasn't of the usual wizarding fare, Akagi hadn't been sure what exactly that entailed. So the normalcy of what she finds is actually rather mystifying.

"Huh.... that's a lot of wide screen TVs."

Beside her, Zuikaku blinks before her expression lights up, upon catching sight of one of the teams playing on one of the screens, realizing it is the home team of Kobe, where she was originally constructed. "Oh hey, the Orix Buffaloes are playing!"

Looking around with a curious gave, Kaga raises an eyebrow as it rapidly becomes clear where the Golden Ofuda draws it's muggle styling from. "Are we sure this is the right place? This is a sports bar?"

"I dunno," says Zuikaku with a grin. "Why don't we ask the other patrons?" the Lucky Crane suggests, pointing at a group of women clustered around a group of tables on the other side of the rumor and apparently celebrating something, judging by the festive atmosphere. One that also involves a surprising amount of sword waving, with almost everyone of of the group carrying blades ranging in size from tantos to, one woman even sporting a odachi slung across her back. "I highly doubt those are cosplayers."

"Or," points out Jun'yo with a nod of the head at the most obvious thing they have missed, "We could order our food and drinks at the bar. You know, the one with the obviously yokai bartender."

Looking at the woman the carrier has pointed out, Shokaku then double takes. "That woman has ears and a tail." Then she blinks again. "That woman has ears and a tail and glow-y marks on her head."

Iowa takes in the sight as well, with equally bemused surprise. "Hey, it's just like one of my Japanese video games."

"You mean that one Japanese video game," corrects Ashigara.

Looking the woman over, Jun'yo also takes in the bartender's appearance curiously. "Those markings.... those sorts of marks are usually only worn by okami who claim decent from the ancient messengers of the kami. And those ones are of the Hokubu Okami in particular.

The battleship pouts at the Heavy Cruiser and Carrier. "Let me have my joke."

At that moment, Shokaku then shifts awkwardly. "Uh, she's also just intercepted a waitress and sent her this way."

Feeling somewhat awkward about talking of the wolf-woman who's directed underling is now approaching, thankfully any fears she heard them are quelled as the younger girl, also a she wolf, now smiles beatifically at the group.

"Hi there, welcome to the Golden Ofuda!" Beaming happily, the waitress, can't help but occasionally give brief snatches of confused glimpses at the Hungry Wolf in their midst, but otherwise radiates cutely enthusiastic hospitality. "how can I help you today?"

"We'd like to make a seating for seven please," politely inquires Akagi, receiving a merry nod from the girl in turn.

"Oh that's no problem. Seating isn't a problem during the day outside the lunch rush."

Following her directions to a nearby table, Iowa glances curiously at the group of swords wielders who already arrived before them. "It seems pretty busy for being outside lunch hours."

The waitress just laughs. "Oh, they're here for a family function of sorts. Aparently one of the missing Muramasa swords turned up, and they all wanted to celebrate."

Jun'yo blinks in surprise, not so much from the realisation of the blade they must be talking about, but just what that means the surprisingly numerous, blade-sporting group is. "Wait, they're all swords? Muramasa swords?"

"Yep!" Says the waitress with an excitable nod of the head that causes her ears to flop, while admiration shines in her eyes. "I didn't even know there were that many of them left! Oh, I hope they stick around in town for a while. Apparently one of the organisers of their group knows Kogamaru-Sama. Oh, it would be so amazing if they were to visit the dojo when I'm not on shift, that would be something to see."

As the wolfy-waitress fangirls, Kaga takes a closer glances at the group and points out a correction of Jun'yo's earlier observation. "You know, it looks like there's more than just swords over there. I think I see a few daggers and even a su-yari."

"Speaking of knives," chips in Iowa as she twirls one of the provided sets of cutlery at the table, "Who's ready to dig these bad boys into something?"

"Ah, right!" The waitress blushes slightly in embarrassment at the distraction her enthusiasm has caused, bowing apologetically to the group and then putting her pen to her notebook. "I'm so sorry about that. Was there anything you would like to order right away, or would you like a minute to look over the menu and drinks selection first?"

Immediately, Jun'yo's hand is in the air, her gaze already focused one of the specials of the day, offered on the laminated card in the middle of the table. "I'd like to order something local. 15% off for something local is too good to pass up!"

"I'd like a beer!" chips in Iowa, while Ashigara gazes over Juny'o's shoulder for any brands or beverages she might recall from her single days on the prowl. The carrier however, then makes an awkwardly uncertain expression

"Wait, " 'kamizake"? That's not, uh.... actual kuchikamizake is it?"

Zuikaku makes a face "Wait, isn't that the kind of sake where you...."

To the relief of the shipgirls at the table with more esoteric knowledge and trivia of sake brewing history, the waitress laughs. "Don't worry, it's not actually kuchikamizake. The brand name's just a pun. "Kamizake". "Okami" "Sake". " 'Kamizake "." To emphasize her point, the floofy-mass of her tail then wags behind her, while her previously plain face then momentarily lights up with red markings almost as bright as her smile.

While the Lucky Crane sighs in relief, Jun'yo grins. "Well then, I think I'll place an order for that then. One bottle of 'Kamizake please!"

"You wouldn't happen to have Yebisu Premium would you?" asks Ashigara, earning a happy nod from the waitress as she jots it down on her pad.

"We do."

From her side of the table, Shokaku then adds in with her request of "I'll just have juice for now thank you. Maybe one of those HOWLING apple punch flavors."

Interrupting the stream of orders however, is the voice of Akagi who then glances at the others with confused surprise. "Are you guys sure it's a good idea to be starting with the drink first?"

"It's five o'clock in the world somewhere," counters Zuikaku jokingly as she orders something local and fruity on a whim.

"On the contrary," says Kaga, adding in her own two cents, "Akagi has a point. Not only did we come here to eat, which a liquid lunch might inhibit if this challenge is truly as great as the rumors say, but having a meal first might be a more.... wise decision in the long run. It would be a unfair if anybody.... lagged behind now, wouldn't it."

The smaller carrier glares at the jibe toward her ability to keep pace, causing Akagi and Shokaku to facepalm in tandem as they realize the gauntlet that has already been thrown down between the two competitive rivals. Lowering her menu and placing the drinks list back on the stand in the middle of table, Zuikaku then grins with a look of both innocence and a promise that 'it' is now on.

"You know what. You're right. We should eat first. That way, it'll be easier to remember tomorrow after I've beaten you at both of these challenges."

Kaga merely gives a demure smile, masquerading as an acceptance to prove Zuikaku's boasts wrong.

The waitress meanwhile, looks at the group with wide eyes as she realizes the implication of Kaga's words.

"Oh, you two are here to do the Nine Clan Heads Challenge?"

With a grin, Akagi speaks up. "Not just them."

Tilting her head and causing her ears to flop, the wolf-girl looks to Akagi in turn. "Oh, you too?"

Now it's Jun'yo's turn to give a cocky grin of her own in turn. "We're all here for the Nine Clan Head's Challenge."

For a moment, the waitress blinks like a confused puppy, before nodding in realization. "Oh, you want a Nine Clan Heads Challenge for seven?"

Then it is Kaga's turn to blink in confusion. "People can share the Nine Clan Head's Challenge?"

"Some people do." The wolf-girl makes a sort-of gesture in the air and shrugs. "There's so much food, sometimes people will just order the challenge to cover the food for parties or functions. It doesn't actually count towards the eat free for 90 years reward if you share though."

Eyes lighting up, Akagi then palms her fist happily at the prospect of the trial ahead. "Oh, well in that case, we'd like to place ourselves down for seven sets of the Nine Clan Heads Challenge."

The waitress stares, pen frozen mid stroke on her notebook. For a moment, a multitude of expressions cross her face. Confusion. Uncertainty. Realization. Disbelief. Bafflement. And then finally apprehension.

Hesitant for a moment, she then glances toward the bar, and the okami behind the counter who seems to have noticed the younger server's moment of indecision. "Um.... could you excuse me for a moment? I need to talk to my shift manager about some forms we'll need you to sign then."

"That's fine," says Akagi happily.

Uncertainly glancing back at the table as if to confirm her previous head count, the waitress then takes her leave with a barely heard murmur of something about a "head chef" and "heart attack".

Unable to resist, Zuikaku snickers once they are alone and out of hearing range.

"Wow. This must be some challenge you've hooked us up with Akagi."

"Yeah," adds in Iowa with a bemused grin. "You'd think we'd just told her we're going to eat a whale each."

Jun'yo however, frowns and looks over the menu once more curiously. "Well, this is a magical bar and restaurant." Brow narrowing as something occurs to her, she then turns to Akagi curiously. "How much food is actually in this challenge anyway."

"Well," offers the carrier lamely, there's obviously supposed to be nine courses. I think I remember the guide mentioning a burger, a steak, some nigiri or sushi was another, there was a meter of something but it didn't say what, and the final dish is a parfait dessert."

"That doesn't sound too bad," considers Shokaku thoughtfully, only for Jun'yo to shake her head.

"Yeah, but according to the guide book, dragons and giants have failed to finish these meals in the ninety minutes allowed."

"Sure, but they're big things shrunk down to smaller size. We're shipgirls," points out Iowa with a grin. "How hard could this challenge actually be?"

Quietly Ashigara gives a closer look at the menu on the table. "Did you know that you can buy the individual components of the Challenge as whole meals on their own?"

"Really?" The battleship raises a curious eyebrow. "So what's that Meter thing Akagi mentioned then? A meter long sandwich?"

"Close but not quite." Reading over the various description of how much food they have just ordered, a seed of worry begins to sow itself within Ashigara's gaze. "It's a meter tall."

As the other's begin to flick to the back pages of the various menu booklets, and actually pay closer attention to what they're info, the Hungry Wolf's eyes then widen. "And that's apparently one of the tamer things on there."

"The Little Burger doesn't sound to bad...." Kaga quietly considers.

"That's because it's literally the starting course of the challenge," points out Zuikaku, looking at how much of a size increase there is even just between the inital course and the subsequent (and increasingly aptly named in her opinion) The Die-maru. "And even that burger is pretty monstrous in size."

"At the very least, I know I'll be able to make it to this 100 Pound Steak thing." Iowa boasts happily. "It's been a while since I had a nice steak that was also filling."

"Lucky you," mutters Ashigara, increasingly wishing she skipped breakfast. "I'm not sure I'll have the capacity or bunkerage to make it past The Nigiri-tiator, depending on how big The Hunted actually is."

Jun'yo hums quietly, before glancing back at the drinks list curiously. "You know, as much as I'd like to forge through to the end, I'm not sure I'll be able to actually do it.... especially not if I want to be able to just enjoy some of these drinks later."

"Cop outs!" cries Iowa teasingly. "Looks like it's all on us capital ships to represent," says the battleship to the fleet carriers present.

"And we won't disappoint!" adds in Shokaku excitedly.

"The question is, who's going to make it to the end first?" asks Zuikaku cockily.

"I believe that is an obvious answer, that shall only require confirmation" Answers Kaga with a smile.

"Then it's settled," says Akagi with a grin. "Damn the torpedoes and loosen those waist belts ladies. We've got a challenge to beat."
-----------
Quietly, Jun'yo sips at her sake, looking on with bemusement, and ignoring the slowly growing and excited crowd that has built up over the last eighty minutes. "You doing okay there Akagi?"

The carrier doesn't answer. Mouthful, she looks barely aware of anything beyond her current mission. Reaching the bottom of the final few scoops of parfait, that filled the previously titanic bowl of dessert that make up the final part of the challenge. Struggling even as she doesn't miss a beat, the carrier instead raises her spoon, and takes another bite, much to the elation of the crowd around their table.

Taking a sip of her drink, Jun'yo reflects that this is indeed, very nice sake. As Akagi gathers another spoonful of parfait, the audience that has gathers over the course of the last hour cheers her on.

It started shortly just after, true to Ashigara's prediction and her consideration, they both bowed out after the Hunted. The cruiser prefered not to stuff herself uncomfortably silly, and Jun'yo wanted to leave some room in order to enjoy sampling the local alcohol on offer, but the rest of the group continued. Apparently though, The Hunted was the point at which even most larger challengers began to falter, and seeing the other five members of the group leaping into tackling the Nigiri-tiator with gusto was something that began to attract the attention of the sword-party in the back of the bar. Soon even the gazes of the idle staff not involved in the kitchen were drawn. A kitchen that had become a literal blur thanks to the chaotic, magically accelerated efforts to produce the five sets of dishes for each stage of the challenge at the pace the group was going.

By the time they got to the Meter of Just This, people were turning up from outside the store to see the Challange taking place, drawn by the news that not just one, but five people were now on to the later courses of the meal.

Shokaku had been the next to bow out. Having made the mistake of partaking in her drink over the consumption of the various courses, the carrier had inevitably found herself feeling full faster than the other remaining competitors. Eventually deciding to concede with comfort and dignity, rather than forcing herself to discomfort and bloatedness, Shokaku then threw in the towel. Now the carrier had found herself a fellow member of the cheering crowd, merrily supporting the others in their gastronomic trial.

That left just the most competitive of their number. Akagi with her infamous reputation, and Iowa with her American appetite easily held the lead, but soon it became obvious that the real competition wasn't whether Zuikaku and Kaga would catch up, but which of the latter two would bow out first. For the longest time, it had looked like the Lucky Crane would be the more victorious of the two. Inexorably conquering first, the so called sandwich that was the tower called The Meter of Just This, then assaulting the monster sukiyaki that was The Marbling of the Northern Beef with equal gusto. It was halfway through the latter dish though, that Zuikaku began to flag. Though she finished the meaty dish before Kaga, it was becoming obvious that the carrier's lack of pacing through so many relentlessly large meals in quick succession, was beginning to cause issues.

And then came the mystery round. Jun'yo had heard of the infamy and disdain held among the magical community for the 7th Koshaku of the Hokubu Okami, not just among fellow yokai, but even his own clan. It was something that had been whispered of, even among her magical crew memebers towards the end of the war, and only grown in the decades hence, so she had been curious as to what the chefs of the Golden Ofuda would produce for the eight course of the Nine Clan Heads Challenge.

What they got, was the Wheel of Meat-fortune. A meat platter ironically referencing the untimely demises of many of the other clan heads, but fittingly snubbing the most infamous of their number by not actually mentioning his name or image. Among the condiments however, the cup of barbecue sauce and it's ladle were shaped to look like a tiny MACUSA Execution Cell and it's pool of Death Potion, with a spoon taking a floating chair form.

It is during this particular course, that Zuikaku falters. Determined not to give up before Kaga, the Lucky Crane continues to eat, even as she begins to look increasingly uncomfortable and ill because of it. Shokaku cautions her sister to slow, if not outright throw in the towel, but between Zuikaku's pride, competitiveness and the cheers of the crowd, the Lucky Crane remains resolute, locking eyes with Kaga and matching the older carrier bite for bite. Not helping matters, are the shouts of the crowd, words that both support and egg each of the two on in turn, with the most prominent example being one of the Muramasa Blades who ends up being almost a devil of temptation on Zuikaku's shoulder, opposite from Shokaku advocating temperance and restraint.

At last though, Zuikaku meets the meat that is her match. Now looking wholly and thoroughly uncomfortable, Zuikaku burps. It is a burp, that then turns into a choke, and then has the crowd split between cheers and jeers as the carrier slowly turns green. Some worriedly shout their support, while others gleefully await to see if the result will be a victory of self-control, or an embarrassing failure of culinary containment. Finally though, much to Shokaku's relief and the disappointment of the sword known as Akutoku, the Lucky Crane's fortune holds out, and the now stuffed turkey acquiesces to her sister's demands suggestions to bow out.

Looking ready to pass into a food-coma, Zuikaku barely even registers the progress of her rival, as Kaga eventually catches up, and passes her in the Challenge.

Not that Kaga actually gets much further. While she manages to finish the Wheel of Meat-Fortune, the blue half of Carrier Division 1 decides to do as Shokaku did and finish with dignity and comfort, rather, rather than fall into the same state as Zuikaku. To the disappointment of the crowd, Kaga does not make her next order a Parfait-bound, and instead elects to join Jun'yo in slowly sampling some of the local and regional alcohols on offer.

It's at that point Jun'yo also realizes that they're going to have to swap their sober driver. Shokaku stuck to juice and water for the last hour and a half, but Ashigara has unfortunately become the crossroads for a different issue. Not only are local okami buying her drinks because they keep on confusing her as family for some reason, but someone seems to have also stoked the Heavy Cruiser's competitiveness into some sort of drinking completion involving a couple of wolves, some of the Muramasa swords, a pair of witches, and a badger yokai.

Undoubtedly though, the main event is still the remaining to kanmusu tackling the Challenge. It's all on Iowa and Akagi now. Between her stores and fuel reserves to fuel her vast American appetite, there is little doubt that Iowa will finish the last of the humungous crystalline tub that is filled with parfait, but on Akagi's part, things are coming down to the wire.

With only minutes to go, Jun'yo almost feels like going outside to check if pigs are flying, as she realizes the fact that the Red Castle is starting to slow. Akagi is getting full. Akagi, so close to the finish, is now struggling to pack away the very last traces of her dessert.

The audience loves the uncertainty, and soon the air is filled with rolling cheers, alternating between cries of "don't give up!" and "you can do it!", every time her spoon lingers still for too long. Each mouthful of dessert elicits an ever growing excitement and sense of victory, as the distance between the bottom of the bowel and the remaining minutes on the timer shrink in tandem.

"Come on Akagi! You can do it!" Shouts an excited Ashigara, echoed by the plethora of wolves she has gotten a little too deep into her cups with, and who gleefully keep on toasting their misidentified cousin "from the JMSDF" and her kanmusu friends she brought home for the weekend.

"Don't give up!" adds in Shokaku. "We believe in you!"

Beside her, the Lucky Crane groans and mumbles something drowned out by the crowd as she holds her belly.

"Zuikaku does too!" shouts Shokaku in much more merry translation.

Even Iowa is taken in by the rapturous atmosphere, pausing in her progress, rather than finishing off her final spoonful that will allow her to complete the Challenge. "You can do it Akagi! Come on! Let's finish this together!" The crowd goes wild at this display of "sportsmanship", only increasing their rapturous excitement.

Glancing up as she finally begins to see the bottom of the bowl, Akagi actually has to pause for her longest moment yet between bites. Meanwhile, the clock continues to inexorably count down, bringing things ever closer to the wire.

"Three minutes remaining!" Bellows somebody from the back of the crowd, throwing things into a frenzy of shouting.

"You're so close!"

"Just a few more bites!"

"She's going to do it! She's going to do it!"

"Don't stop!"

"Almost there!"

"You can't give up this close to the end!"

"You can do it!"

Akagi's struggling gaze however, catches the eyes of only one other person, in this moment of titanic struggle to finally finish her meal. Seeing Kaga looking at her with confidence and certainty, and realizing that her friend has no doubts about her ability to win, Akagi's resolve returns. In spite of the protests of her crew who are now up to their metaphorical necks in spiritual supplies and ammunition, the Red Castle prepares for her final attack.

Reaching down below the table, there is a moment of confusion, before there is the sound of the carrier adjusting her belt by a few notches, garnering a rising cheer in response.

"ONE MORE MINUTE!"

And then she assaults the final layer of parfait. Diving in once more and spoon streaking through the air from bowl to mouth and then bowl again, Akagi sweeps through the last vestiges of the Challenge's final course with newfound gusto. There is only she and the dessert she needs to defeat.

So engrossed in succumbing this final obstical is she, that she barley notices when Iowa joins back in with hastily finishing off her meal as well.

"Ten!"

"Nine!"

"Eight!"

"Seven!"

"Six!"

"Five!"

"Four!"

"Three!"

"Tw-!"

A pair of spoons are put down at the same time, at last revealing the uninterrupted glass bottoms of the tub-like dessert vessels, clean and empty of food.

Iowa gives a long and satisfied belch, before looking slightly embarrassed. Akagi blinks in surprise, realising she has actually finished.

It's over. It's finally over.

A stunned silence falls over the crowd at the same realisation, the timer going off without interruption before someone finally has the presence of mind to silence it.

Then the waitress appears, amazement and admiration in her eyes, as she holds Iowa and Akagi's hands up in the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Let's have a round of applause and a round of drinks on the house for everyone, for the conqurors of the Nine Clan Heads Challenge! That's right! Plural! For the first time ever in the Golden Ofuda's history, we have a DOUBLE VICTORY!"

As the bartender breaks out the drinks, and the serving staff begin taking orders, the crowd goes wild.

 

[darthcourt10]

Maes Omake: "Why couldn't you just..."

Savato93 said:
"Alright." The two cruisers turned and walked over to the railing. "We'll check back here in a week. Sound good?" The men nodded again. "Great. Pleasure doing business with ya." And with that, the two leaped over the railing and onto the water, taking off to the south. After a few minutes, they were out of sight.

It was minutes later before one of the men finally broke the stunned silence. "Stacy's gonna kill me."
Tiypo said:
If the fishermen are really smart they'll include one of those insanely thick Ikea catalogs. One of the Abyssals will inevitably become obsessed with creative interior design utilizing well made build-it-yourself kits, ensuring that trading will continue.​

*-**--*-*-*
~some time after the first few trades~

"You know, I've been meaning to ask..."

"Hm?"

"That ripped net you had... why didn't you just mend it?"

"Wait... what? You... you can fix those?"

"Well... yeah? I mean... every good net fisherman knows that. Why'd you think our nets have so many different colors to them? You saying you don't know how?"

"... thought it was a fashion statement? As for repairs... Abyssal warship? We're not big on the whole 'mending and care' thing."

*sigh* "Tell you what. You've done us right, ain't killed either Horton or meself or even threatened us, and you've been good business, so I'll do you a solid. How'bout you hand me that ripped net you had, and we'll teach you how to fix em?"

"In exchange, say... you guys spend lots o' time underwater, right? So you'd know the good fish spots first hand? Say, we teach you something, you point us to the good spots, or away from the bad ones?"

*-*-*

jgkitarel said:
He even has a passport.​

The museum curators are still trying to figure out why not only are there more stamps in there than there should be, but the number keeps increasing on occasion.
(At least they haven't found the photo albums yet, or the 'first parachute jump' certificate.)

dan-heron said:
Tries her hand as a taxi driver and, well like Suiren said who knew you can outrun an attack helicopter on a taxi​

Ah, so a certain french cabbie was visiting?

 

[darthcourt10]

K9Thefirst1 Omake: "Matchmaking"

Lord K said:
Challenge​

Now, is this the first time anyone has won, or have there been some?

Also, by the sound of it, each of those meals ought to be challenges on their own. Or would be at other places.

And weirdly enough... I'm kinda-sorta sad we've betrothed Akagi and Kaga both to Taichi.

Because while reading this (and factoring in the street race thing) I had the mental image of the Clan Elders trying to get Akagi to marry Kogamaru.
*-*-*-*

"She's such a sweet girl."

"You barely know her!"

"And she won the Nine Clan Head Challenge! She's already loved by the community!"

"Oh yes, that's certainly something to base a marriage around."

"And them titties!"

"OBA-SAN I AM NOT HAVING THAT KIND OF DISCUSSION WITH YOU!"

"DAMNIT BOY WE'RE GETTING DESPERATE HERE!"

 

[darthcourt10]

Shaithan

Meeting

The North Sea churned under Revina's screws as she followed Lady Wanko to Scapa Flow. She was quite excited to get there, after all, it would entail meeting the first and eldest of the Re-class Abyssals. She was quite curious. She had gleaned a bit from when Lady Wanko hadn't watched as closely who could hear, and it promised to be fun.

Coming up to Scapa Flow she felt her jaw drop. A woman came out to meet them and where before she had thought Lady Wanko was huge, she now was treated to Lady Wanko getting picked up and engulfed in a bone-crushing hug. "Welcome ta Scapa Flow, Miss Wanko and Revina," the woman greeted them before setting Wanko back down. "It's bloody nice to actually meet another installation and thanks for coming. That wee lass is in well over her head," she continued.

Suddenly, the woman turned to Revina with a gleam in her eyes. "I wonder," she began, before her hand shot out and she picked up a suddenly boneless Revina by the scruff of her neck.

"Nya?" Revina squeaked, mortified beyond words, especially when she saw Lady Wanko's grin.

"Ah was right, Re-classes do resemble cats in some interesting ways," the woman mused, absentmindedly holding a very embarrassed Revina in her hand.

Wanko was torn. On the one hand, it was wonderful blackmail material to keep Revina in line. On the other hand, this was still one of her daughters getting manhandled like an oversized kitten, and as hilarious as a boneless Re-class looked, she'd rather have her move under her own power.

"Please..., do set ... my subordinate ... down," Wanko asked slowly.

"Oh, I apologize," the woman said with a sheepish grin while setting Revina down and handing her an ice-cream cone. "It's the first time I meet another harbour or another Re-class, so I was a bit overly enthusiastic," she said slowly. "Please forgive me," she continued.

Wanko shook her head. "There is ... nothing ... to apologize ... for," she said with a small smile.

Revina was torn between grumbling about getting treated like a kitten and being grateful for the gelato. This wasn't anything ordinary, this was made as if you went to Luigi's at the corner. And she could tell, after all, Luigi knew her well enough by now.

Wanko looked over Scapa Flow, taking in the various girls milling about. She even saw a group of Abyssals, those were likely Wandering Princess' girls.

Coming to the pier, she saw the human admiral, another group of destroyers, these clustering around a smoking blonde shipgirl and both the one she assumed to be Wandering Princess and her daughter, Retribution. And for all that she knew Wandering Princess wanted to settle down in peace, Retribution felt dangerous. She knew that Retribution had killed before, she had given a pretty comprehensive travel log. Ships sunk, ports raided, cities shelled, people killed, there had been a long list. Looking into the eyes of Retribution she saw the bloodlust, the unbound joy of murder that characterized so many others. But any of Retribution's glances to her mother also revealed deep concern. Retribution would kill or die for her mother, both without question and quite likely full of joy.

Wandering Princess was a waif. Rather short and frail, her destroyer heritage was easily apparent. It was quite a study in contrasts with her youngest daughter, who possessed enough firepower to take on quite a few second-rate navies on her own. She was quite surprised with the Princess' attire, though. The veil, rings, earrings, chains, choker and billowing black clothes gave her an air of alienness. She looked like she had jumped straight from Victor Hugo's novels, a dreaded Gypsy Princess dancing to the misery she spread.

"Welcome to Scapa Flow, Miss Wanko, Revina. Thank you for agreeing to help us out," the human admiral greeted. "I am Admiral Collingwood, these are Wandering Princess, Re-class Princess Retribution, Tirpitz and you've already run into Scapa Flow," she introduced the various people.

Wanko nodded. "It is ... my pleasure ... to be here ... and ... to help ... where I .... can," she said slowly, holding out her massive hand for each one to shake.

Revina on the other hand had tried to take a closer look at the Abyssal destroyers behind Tirpitz, but try as she might, the destroyers kept Tirpitz between themselves and Revina, leading to a rather odd chase around Tirpitz.

"Viel zu nüchtern," Tirpitz groused grumpily.

Wanko on the other hand brought her hand down on Revina's head. "Settle down," she ordered the rambunctious Re-class, much to the amusement of the various people there.

Revina acted as if it had never been her intention to take a closer look at the destroyers anyway and stepped towards Retribution, taking in the First Re. And where the destroyers had hidden from her, Retribution made herself bigger, displaying her fearsome armaments and her eyes glowing.

After a few minutes of silent posturing Revina turned around. "Now I know how a Great White would feel when meeting a Megalodon," she stated happily.

Wanko facepalmed. She really questioned the decision to take Revina right now. Regina might have been the superior choice after all. But then she would have to either send Revina home unsupervised, which was a diplomatic incident waiting to happen or send her out with Little Brother. And that was not in Little Brother's best interests. Revina would protect him, but also drive him bonkers. Regina was a well-behaved girl, she would do her best to keep Little Brother safe and sound of mind.

And for some reason Little Brother bonding deeply with Revina filled Wanko with dread.

No, in the end taking Revina here to act as the jester was the best possible solution.

Also, as much as she didn't want to show it, seeing Revina act like she did was amusing. Exasperating, but still amusing.

"We have guest quarters ready for you," Collingwood said slowly. "I'd thought it best to have this day for you to arrive and settle down," she added. "I don't think these talks will conclude quickly or easily," she continued.

Wanko nodded gratefully. Wandering Princess promised a lot of headaches. No port to call home, desire to not be on the frontlines, a very lopsided fleet composition. The main chip they had was that Scapa Flow had theorized that without Wandering Princess she wouldn't have been able to manifest. Getting an installation was extremely coveted by the humans. And Scapa Flow hadn't been shy about mentioning that without Wandering Princess she wouldn't have been able to manifest.

And finally, treating Abyssals that did not come from a position of strength or parity but of weakness fairly was seen as important, after all, if humanity didn't manage that, what would prevent them from turning around and assaulting allied abyssals once the hostile ones were vanquished?

While Wanko was pondering questions, an odd sound behind her caused her to turn around and boggle.

Scapa Flow was busy juggling three corvette girls who were laughing merrily.

That in on itself was no cause for concern, but Revina grinning widely was.

"That looks fun, can I join?" Revina asked eagerly.

"Ah don't see why not, lassie," Scapa Flow gave back, while keeping the girls airborne.

Next to Wanko, Admiral Collingwood facepalmed. "There is no naval rank in this world that can be expected to deal with this!" she groused.

"WHEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" the airborne Revina shouted gleefully.

"Scapa!" Collingwood shouted finally. "She might have the maturity of some of the younger corvettes, but she is still the honour guard of a visiting dignitary," she stated slowly. "Now set her down!" she ordered, much to the sulking of both Revina and Scapa Flow.

Revina swaggered towards Wanko on unsteady hooves. "Boss Lady, you really need to do this with us, this is hilarious!" she requested with shining eyes.

Wanko looked at Collingwood. "Is there .. a watering hole ... nearby?" she wanted to know.

"My office should suffice," Collingwood gave back. "Please, follow me," she added.

"Revina! Behave!" Wanko ordered the stiffening Re-class in a voice that brooked no argument.

Finally, Wanko turned around and followed Admiral Collingwood towards her office.

Scapa left as well, herding Wandering Princess and Retribution towards where the rest of their fleet waited.

Which left Revina in an interesting position. She could go towards their accommodations and settle down, but it didn't really appeal to her. In the end, she decided to follow Lady Wanko.

Collingwood and Wanko slowly walked towards the main building, Wanko silently taking in the sights of Scapa Flow. Finally, Collingwood cleared her throat. "I really have to apologize for Scapa Flow's behaviour," Collingwood said earnestly.

Wanko shook her head. "There is ... nothing ... to apologize ... for," she gave back. "I got ... to see ... a mortified ... Revina," she added with a small grin.

Collingwood laughed lightly. "Ah, I see," she said. "I've got a few troublemakers myself," she added grumpily.

Wanko decided to not ask about that.

The office was rather spartan, none of the wood paneling that Wanko had expected. Instead there were filing cabinets and bare walls. A potted plant the only concession to livening up the room.

Collingwood went to one of the filing cabinets. "Let's see, where did I file it?" She mused, rummaging through various drawers.

"Ah, there it is, under Q," she said a while later, bringing out a bottle with a grinning woman on the label.

Wanko looked at the label. "Quedagh Merchant's ... Original ... Pirate Rum – 100% illegally bootlegged ... on a ... Pirate Ship," she read out loud. "Pirate Rum?" she asked slowly.

Collingwood grinned. "Yes, the old pirate has a distillery on her ship. She sells this stuff. And, as she says, it's officially illegal to sell, as this would finance piracy," she explained to a very befuddled Wanko.

"I … don't see," she finally admitted.

Collingwood laughed. "Welcome to Europe," she said. "It's all Bismarck's fault. Not the chancellor, though," she continued. "You see, when Quedagh Merchant began selling that stuff, Bismarck looked up the legalities and seeing as Quedagh Merchant freely claims to be a pirate and her actions to be piracy, anyone selling her merchandise is technically aiding and abetting. Also, her distillery is quite likely illegal as well, so this stuff is extra illegal," she explained. "Quedagh Merchant found out and immediately printed it on her bottles, making sure that demand went up," she finished.

Wanko looked at the bottle. "Why...?" she finally said.

Collingwood shrugged. "Quedagh Merchant is quite old. And the older a shipgirl, the odder they tend to be," she mused. "Especially the pirates, they love their new lives, but they also know that the things they once did are no longer allowed or even feasible," she she continued, while pouring both Wanko and herself a glass. "To the future," she toasted.

Wanko tenderly took the offered glass, raising it as well. "To the … future," she agreed.

Collingwood gulped the burning liquid down in one go. "That stuff is almost as bad as great-grandmum's tonicum," she wheezed. "And considering what she kept in her little shed, I was quite afraid to ask what exactly she put in there, other than apples," she continued, before pouring both Wanko and herself a second glass.

Wanko considered the taste rich and inviting, this was a drink that didn't want to be alone. She was however aware enough that humans were ill-disposed for some things abyssals or shipgirls would see as a delicacy, something she had learned when she had wanted to send Hagrid some blue-ringed octopus. Luckily she had asked before sending it, USS Canberra had quickly dissuaded her from that. While they couldn't be sure, it was better to assume that toxins that could kill humans would also work on giants. Which meant that several snacks Wanko enjoyed were not something she could offer a human.

"Why was ... Tirpitz here?" Wanko finally decided to ask.

Collingwood groaned. "Yet another headache. She picked up some stray destroyers. And unlike Aurora, she really has no idea how to raise a child," she laid out. "Then there's the fact that they're Abyssals, so she wants to hand them over to an allied Abyssal Princess," she added. "As if her harebrained scheme for having a Viking Fleet come to England in August wasn't enough. Or the talk among some of the Sail Girls to have the Grand Journey next year, where it means going to Brazil for the World Cup by sail and oar," Collingwood added.

"You disapprove?" Wanko wanted to know.

"Not per se, it definitely has the makings of something exciting and morale boosting. I just think these girls don't realize how much of the seas we don't control as much as we'd like. Hell, I want their journey to Brazil to succeed, the World Cups tend to invite celebration and the one in 2006 did a lot to boost morale here. But there's a difference between crossing the North Sea basically within shouting distance of both Germany and Britain and crossing the Atlantic. Because either via the Azores or the Long Route via Iceland, there's lots of open ground and a few hundred slowly-moving girls are bound to attract abyssal attention. Which means we need a sizable battlefleet to protect them and can't throw such a job to the various auxiliary fighting ships that currently aren't doing a lot of anything," Collingwood explained with obvious agitation. "As a sailor, the very thought of an armada of sailing ships of the last two thousand years crossing the Atlantic in one massive fleet is a dream, as an admiral I see the logistics behind the endeavour and have to cry," she continued.

Wanko nodded. "I … see," she stated slowly. A tube dream then. "Is there … no way … to make … it possible?" she wanted to know.

Collingwood shook her head and leaned back in her chair. "I can't see one, not knowing that there's several Princesses in the area," she admitted. "Maybe something will turn up, but I fear, the best they'll be able to manage is to fly to Canada and to set sail from there," she mused.

With a sudden grin, Collingwood grabbed the bottle and poured herself and Wanko another drink. "Say, want to see something really funny?" she wanted to know.

Wanko raised her eyebrow. "Oh?" she asked curiously.

Collingwood laughed. "Oh yes, it's gold," she promised.

With a hum she entered her password and brought up YouTube. "You see, Monty Python is a national treasure and our submarines love it. Unfortunately the U-Boats were the first to have the idea to form a line and relay Python quotes via flag signals to England. Which was a grave insult. We insult the Germans, not the other way around. Also, forming a line to relay insults to France was no longer funny," she added.

Wanko looked at the video which was likely taken with a mobile. "So, our girls had to get creative," Collingwood explained.

In the video several U-Boats were seen pouring over reams of paper. "Girls, at what day do we intend to have jesting and merrymaking as defined by §§223ff of the Royal Degree on Jest, Laughter and Comedy?" one asked.

"Let me get a calendar," another said. "Fifth of May sound good?" she suggested.

"Okay, let's put that down," the first one said. "Let's see. Now we need a time. And the nature of the joke we intend to make. Oh, and we need to explain it," she called out.

"Let's go with 4 and make it a series of bad Star Wars puns," a third U-Boat said.

Wanko looked up. "I … do not … understand," she finally admitted.

Collingwood, who had grinned like a loon the whole time looked at the cutely puzzled abyssal in her office, before slapping her forehead. "I'm sorry. Basically, our subs made a ton of paperwork that they gave the U-Boats to fill in. They invented a whole law code regulating fun, where and when to have it, how to have it and so on, plus forms needing to be filled out to be allowed to have fun. And then they convinced the U-Boats that this was how things were done in England, so the U-Boats filled in these forms," she explained.

Wanko pondered it for a while. "I still … do not … understand," she admitted.

Collingwood sighed. "I'm sorry," she said again. "Human nature at work," she added. "I keep forgetting how much you are an outsider looking in, so I assumed you would just know," she said contritely. "It's poking fun at Germans and their obsession with rules and paperwork," she explained.

Wanko nodded. "So …, by giving … them … nonsensical paperwork … a joke … formed," she observed, before chuckling. "It is … fun," she added.

Collingwood smiled. "Yes, indeed," she concurred. "Also, there's this," she said and pulled up security camera footage. Two destroyer girls were standing around something, seemingly debating. Wandering Princess entered the frame, obviously curious. After a short debate, the destroyers allowed Wandering Princess to see what they were hiding, unfortunately, it stayed hidden from the camera.

Shortly after Wandering Princess had seen the thing, Retribution entered the frame, disheveled and looking concerned.

Wandering Princess gestured and now they could see that it was a box. Retribution picked up the box, declaring something that made the destroyers cheer.

Collingwood cleared her throat. "They found a pregnant queen," she explained.

"A queen?" Wanko asked.

"A female cat," Collingwood explained. "Retribution declared that anyone wanting to take the cat away from the destroyers would have to go through her," she added. "Now, I have no problems with pets in the barracks, as long as things are kept reasonable. They boost morale and help with destressing, and destroyers tend to be very diligent with taking care of pets anyway," she told Wanko. "It was quite stressful the first few days however, " she continued. "It was like having three dozen prospective fathers at once," she grumbled. "They worried over everything and I doubt I've seen such a pampered cat before," Collingwood added.

Wanko pondered this. "What happened … to … the kittens?" she wanted to know.

"They're currently all in the destroyer barracks with their mother. Edinburgh wants one when they're ready to go to a new home, same as Malaya. Malaya has one picked out already, a rather rambunctious little tom that loves to sit on her head," Collingwood told Wanko.

Wanko had to chuckle at the image of a shipgirl with a cat on her head.

Collingwood looked at the clock, before turning white. "Oh bugger, so late already?" she exclaimed.

Wanko looked, and true, it was getting rather late. The rum was gone as well. Collingwood looked up. "I'll show you to your accommodations," she declared, before getting up slightly unsteadily.

Outside the office, they were greeted by Revina and a cat in a stare-off.

Collingwood looked at her secretary ship, Iron Duke. "How long?" she simply wanted to know.

Iron Duke looked up. "Pretty much since you entered your office," she said idly. "I've tried to get them to stop, but they're stubborn buggers," she added.

Wanko cleared her throat. "Revina. Stop it!" she ordered.

Revina looked up with a big pout. "I was so close to winning!" she declared piteously.

Collingwood patted the Re-class on her back. "Trust me, you weren't," she said with sympathy. "Minka here could stare a mirror into submission," she explained, much to the apparent satisfaction of the cat. "Anyway, your rooms are in the battleship barracks. Ever since Scapa turned up, we had to do some serious remodeling of the base. Most of our doors or even rooms aren't made with persons 4 meters tall in mind," she explained apologetically.

Wanko simply smiled. "It is … nothing … to be … apologetic about," she gave back.

A few minutes later they arrived at the barracks. The doors opened automatically, much to Revina's delight. Collingwood grinned. "It was the best solution," she explained. "Handles would be a bit problematic if you have to either bend over or stretch to reach them. Your rooms open with keycards which have readers installed both in human heights and installation heights," she explained.

Wanko was pleased with that arrangement. While she knew she was exceptionally tall, it still was difficult at times dealing with a world made for people half her height. Seeing that this had been taken into consideration, it warmed her power plants.

The bed in her room was massive, its outer frame of wood hiding a study steel frame. It was made with people like her in mind. She wondered if she could get such a bed delivered to her holdings in East Timor.

After plopping down on the bed, she revised her opinion. She had to have such a bed delivered. Maybe even more than one. This was outstandingly comfortable.

"I take it you approve?" Collingwood asked with a grin.

Wanko nodded happily. "It is ... great," she gave back.

Collingwood grinned and waved. "Well, I bid you a good night then," she said. She would head to her own quarters, the next days would be difficult enough.

Wanko waved lazily, basking in the feeling of a room where everything was in sizes comfortable for her.

 

[darthcourt10]

Lord K

Harry Leferts said:
That is going to be hilarious...​

*-*-*-*
Feeling something prodding gently at the side of her face, accompanied by the cool of the morning air on her toes and shoulders, Ashigara expresses her displeasure with a barely coherent mumble.

"....taking all the blankets again...."

Trying to tug some of the blanket back to her side of the bed from Yonehara, the Hungry Wolf is instead rewarded with even more cold, as the strangely uncomfortable and leathery bedspread proves to have surprisingly little spare material at all. This only compounds the increasingly prominent discomfort emanating from her head, on top of the feeling like something has died in her mouth. Even the bed feels like she's been sleeping on dirt.

Actually.... it really does feel a lot like dirt....

Sensing another light prodding in her side, Ashigara groans.

"Yonehara..."

"Who's Yonehara?" asks a distinctly feminine and confused voice.

With a lurching, barely coherent train of thought, two facts finally penetrate the fog of the hangover attempting to strangle her brain.

Firstly, she distinctly remembers going off for leave without her significant other, and is currently lacking in memories that might suggest as to whether she actually got home, or even to the hotel last night.

The second, and much more worrisome fact, is that that is not Yonehara.

Blearily opening her eye, and immediately wishing she didn't as the hateful mid-morning sun glares back, the Heavy Cruise squints painfully at the shape above her. One that resolves itself into the form of a girl dressed in green, Ainu-style hunting garb, with a bow and a quiver of arrows peaking over one of her shoulders. More prominently however, is that rising out of her hairline is also a pair of ears, while her tail swishes behind her as if in tune with her confused curiosity.

Valiantly, Ashigara's hungover brain struggles to process what's going on. An unknown girl. A big blank spot in her memory. A bed she doesn't recognize, and feels like she slept on rocks all night. The sum of this, is that her brain proceeds to go 1+1=banana.

"What are you doing in my room?" she mumbles blearily.

The Matangi-Ken girl raises a baffled eyebrow. "What are you doing in my family's wheat field?"

Even through her hungover haze, the girl's statement give her pause.

"Wait.... your what now?"

"You're in the middle of my family's wheat field," repeats the okami teen. "You even left a trail leading out from the edge, over by the apple orchard. I came out here thinking we had a boar in the field."

"..... what?"

Jerking upright, and hissing as her head expresses it's displeasure at the sudden movement to an vertical orientation, the Heavy Cruiser then freezes in shock.

She is in the middle of a wheat field. There is a trail of bent wheat stalks leading back to a large grove of apple trees. The ground feels like rocks and dirt because it is rocks and dirt. Her blanket feels funny because it's- what the?

Ashigara looks at the girl in confusion. "Why do I have a jacket? I don't remember having a jacket?"

"That's because that's mine," admits the girl before turning slightly pink from embarrassment. "I uh.... figured you needed it more than me."

"What?" Her baffled confusion only growing, and a headache unrelated to the pounding hangover now beginning to spawn alongside it, Ashigara's feelings are instantly eclipsed by those of mortification and shame when she glances underneath the jacket that has been draped over her. Holding it to herself in red-faced embarrassment, the heavy cruiser looks at the yokai farm girl in horror.

"WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES?!?!"

The girl gives an equally confused and baffled shrug in return. "How should I know?! I only found you like this."

"What even happened last night?! Where is everyone?! How did I get here?! Where even is here anyway?"

Awkwardly, the girl shuffles and glances about. "Well, as best as I can answer in that order..... apparently there was some major party in town last night. I don't know who you are referring to by "everyone", but if you were with them, I know my brother and some of his friends woke up last night on the wrong side of town with some sword-girl's hilt superglued into his hand. How you got here, I have no clue. They turned up around three in the morning, picked up a bunch of booze, and left. As for where you are, welcome to Matangi-Ken no Shinrin."

Vaguely through the haze of alcohol, Ashigara recalls the map from Akagi's guide book. "Why am I that far out of town and naked?!?"

"I don't know!" offers the girl with equal confusion. "Maybe you were trying to do a drunken Holo cosplay? It would explain why you were in the apple orchard at least?"

"Holo cosplay?" Ashigara looks at the girl in confusion. "What Holo cosplay?!?"

Her discoverer's answer is an uncertain, slack-jawed pause and a raised eyebrow. "Well.... you are a wolf, right?"

"What!? No, I'm a kanmusu!"

Now looking increasingly more worried than bemused and confused, the girl then points at her pair of fluffy, dark furred ears atop her head. "So.... you don't normally have.... you know?"

"Know what?" cries Ashigara in bafflement, reaching up and expecting to find her hair messy with wheat or dirt after blacking out in the field. Instead, what she finds makes her pause. Silently, she looks down and glances behind her. What she sees is a fluffy brown mass that isn't related to her the hair on her head. Speaking of which, where her hands are still frozen, there is then a fuzzy flick in tandem with the twitch of her eye.

"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED LAST NIGHT?!?!?!"
---------------------
"Well," offers a red eyed and horrendously hungover looking Jun'yo. "The good news is that it isn't permanent. I at least, remember that much, before we all ended up getting separated."

"Oh thank god," sighs Ashigahara in relief, tail and ears both lowering as the heavy cruiser sags with the release of her fear that whatever happened last night would be permanent.

One car ride and borrowed change of clothes later (both of which Ashigara would be immensely thankfully for till the end of her days, lest she have been forced to end up facing the walk of shame to eclipse all walks of shame), the Hungry Wolf had finally made it back to the hotel they'd booked for the night.

What had greeted her was akin to the aftermath of a Hollywood frat party. At first she'd been horrified and fearful that the state of the building was their fault. Thankfully though (or possibly not so thankfully), it merely turned out that they had had the fortune to share the same choice of establishment to overnight at, with the Muramasa Blade party they had first encounterd and later partied with at the Golden Ofuda. In fact, their two groups had literally all ended up sharing the same stretch of hallway for their rooms.

Not that it was all that possible to tell. A couple of the Muramasa groups' doors were left open, revealing the rooms to be filled with the living detritus and fallout of what must have been a truly stupendous amount of drinking the previous night. Shokaku and Zuikaku's room was also open, but of the two sisters, there had been no sign. There was however, half dozen empty boxes of pizza on the floor, what could only be described as a pair of meat-golem's acting out a miniature samurai duel on the table, and a sword duct-taped to a slowly revolving ceiling fan while it's owner/actual form was passed out on the bed between a pair of witches.

Form some reason, Ashigara was vaguely certain she should have recognized the trio.

Upon finally making it back to her room, she then found Jun'yo victoriously passed out top a throne of bottles and solo cups.

At least Ashigara could take solace in the fact that she wasn't the only one who's lost night had ended in some sort of baffling and embarrassing fashion. If anything, Jun'yo awaking to her position and other people's recollections of her claiming of the "Booze Throne", was the least puzzling of their collective evenings and blackout results.

Zuikaku had turned up covered from head to toe with fake tattoos for some reason, but at least she'd still had her own clothes.

Iowa on the other hand.... towering, statuesque Iowa, had turned up dressed like some sort of gothic-lolita who'd had an accident at the pastel and highlighter coloring factory.

Kaga meanwhile, had woken up in the middle of some sort of old castle ruin, looking like she had been dragged through the bush backwards, but otherwise okay. Most perplexing of all however, had been that she woke up wearing a police vest and a pair of broken handcuffs on her wrists, with no memory of what events had led to those being in place. Adding to the mystifying nature of things, the police had no reports or recollection of actually meeting or responding to anything involving them the previous night.

Shokaku had turned up wearing a beer hat and covered in stickers. Stumbling into the room last of all and still incoherently drunk, Shokaku had been smashed beyond belief, to a degree Ashigara had rarely, if ever, seen the carrier. At least, right up until the moment when the need to hurl had finally made itself know, and then pretty much not left for the rest of the morning.

Akagi meanwhile, had woken up, taken one look at her phone, frowned in confusion at some of the messages she sent to various people the previous night, and then spent much of the morning scanning her inboxes and responding back to "people" in mortification. And by people, Ashigara was pretty sure there was actually one person in particular.

Still, at least they were better off than one of the Muramasa swords, who had supposedly ended up being thrown like a javelin at some point in the night, and was now stuck in the side of a five story building with no mundane way to way to easily get down or be retrieved. Because it was now broad daylight, and with the muggle populace out and active on the main street, they apparently needed to wait for a cherry picker to lift someone else up to get her out of the wall.

Finally though, after a few hours of feeling hungover, miserable and sorry for themselves, they began to attempt to put back together what had happened the previous night over a very late breakfast. Albeit, one that was probably closer to lunch than anything else.

Or at least they attempted to have a very late breakfast. Even hours later, Ashigara's mouth still felt like something fuzzy had died in it, and Shokaku had been praying at the porcelain altar for most of the morning.

Downing the pitcher of water from the middle of the along with a fistful of Tylenol, rather than the glass before her, Ashigara watches and listens to the others struggle with the after effects of their night of excess. Across from her, Iowa raises up the Bloody Mary she ordered alongside her plate of eggs, and faux-toasts not the group, but in a direction at is more skyward.

"Hail Mary, full of vodak,
the CNO is with thee.
Blessed art thou amongst cocktails,
and blessed is the strength of thy liver,
Holy Mary, Mother of God, make this hangover go away
pray for this sinner in the eyes of an angry god,
now and at the hour of my death.... which I hope is sometime soon. Amen"

Watching as Iowa downs her drink, Ashigara then blearily turns her own gaze towards Jun'yo, squinting against the light.

"So... what the hell actually happened to me last night? And what happened to all my clothes? They're still not there, even when I summon my rigging."
---------------------

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN I SOLD ALL MY CLOTHES?!?!"

Ignoring how the others wince at her raised voice, Jun'yo massages her temples and elaborates.

"Technically you didn't sell them, you traded them as a combination of materials and payment or something."

"How in anyway is that better?!?"

The carrier shrugs. "Well, the implication is that we were going to pick them back up again. today.... I think."

"You think?" grounds out Ashigara.

Awkwardly, the hungover onmyouji kanmusu shifts. "Well, see... the thing is.... you know how our clothes are supernaturally tough? They're basically our more cosmetic or non-vital bits like our superstructures, right?"

The Hungry Wolf frowns. "Yes, so? What does this have to do with me selling or trading them away or whatever? It's not like anybody can actually use them like we can?"

"Well.... that's possibly where you might have lucked out.... maybe.... It depends on whether or not you still wanted to give it to Yonehara, or immediately wanted your clothes back more."

"Give what to Yonehara?" cries Ashigara in frustration. "What did I do to my clothes?!?"

Pulling out a now thoroughly dog-eared and slightly soggy and sake-scented copy of the Yamainutaira Guide book, Jun'yo flicks to a particular section of the book and then taps at the image of a young she-wolf beating away at piece of metal on an anvil, while magic circulates through the air. Then the carrier grins. "Do you sort of remember when we went to go pick up the challenge coins?"

Ashigara's eyes widen.

"I gave my clothes to a blacksmith?!"

Jun'yo laughs. "More than that. You gave your clothes to a magic swordsmith, and commissioned her to use them as regents and materials in a sword for Yonehara."

The heavy cruiser buries her face in her hands, face red in embarrassment.

Could this day get anymore ridiculous?
---------------------
Starring out over the water, Kogamaru contemplates his phone with perplexed curiosity, while quietly mulling over his breakfast.

Finally shrugging and deciding he's heard of weirder rumors and strange tales cropping in his absence, the Hokubu clan head opens up his contacts list and taps one the names after a short amount of scrolling. After a few moments, he then grins at the voice he hears answer.

"Hey, Kari-chan! It's your favorite cousin!"

After a few moments, the okami then hears the expected jibe and laughs.

"You know, previous clan heads have exiled people for such disrespect."

The Koshaku chuckles at the ensuing deriding response, and chuckles at the manner of their greeting that would have probably horrified their grandparents.

"Hahaha, pot-kettle much isn't it? Anyway, speaking of fluctuating the clan's numbers, I got a question for you?"

Hearing an affirming hum of curiosity, Kogamaru takes a sip of his tea.

"Did something happen in town last night? Because I woke up this morning to a bunch of email requests full of poor grammar and spelling, as well as a few drunken voice mails, from people asking if I could adopt the Heavy Cruiser Ashigara into the clan?"

 

[darthcourt10]

Harry Leferts

Coming to a stop on the sidewalk, Hanna frowned as she looked at the bar across from her. It was not the fanciest nor was it run down. Rather average if one was to be honest about things if old fashioned looking. Suddenly, something flashed across her mind. A memory that did not belong to her, but instead to one of those who were her crew.

In her mind's eye, she could see through his eyes as he laughed with various friends and fellow sailors as they crossed the street. From what she could see, it was either just before the war or just after it started. But it was still decades in the past.

Then the moment passed and she reached up with one hand to rub the side of her head with a small frown. Through an earpiece, a voice of one of the people performing overwatch came through. "Are you okay, Jaeger?"

Only nodding, Hanna took a deep breath of the cool, evening air. "Ja, I'm okay." Pausing for a moment, she shook her head some. "Just had another memory."

For a few seconds there was silence before Hipper's voice came through the earpiece. "Ah, one of those. Was it a good or bad one this time?"

Simply chuckling as she continued to massage the side of her head, Hanna smiled some. "A good one this time at least. One of the sailors going to a bar like this for a good time." With a sigh, she stretched some before blushing. "Um, I mean having drinks, not... the other sort of fun that sailors get up to in port."

Laughs could be heard on the radio from Hipper and Hanna could just imagine her older sister shaking her head. "Ja, I would imagine that those are rather common. Not that mein crew let me see those sort of memories."

All Hanna did was nod at that while internally cursing. Being so close to fully awakening meant that every so often she had flashes of the memories of her crew. Some of the memories, like what she just saw were good. Others though...

Others were not so good.

Eyes closed, Hanna felt a shiver run down her back as her mind flashed back to one of her original German crew. The feel as the ship he was on sank and his body slipped beneath the cold, ocean waves. It was how shipgirls could access the knowledge of their crews through their memories. Except, since she was not yet a shipgirl, it was somewhat uncontrollable for her. Things could set them off and give her flashes of memories that were not hers. Thankfully, she was somewhat detached from said memories and so they did not affect her, not fully anyways. But she still could not wait until the day she fully awoke, in three weeks or so if the scientists and such were right.
Granted, while there were issues, the strawberry blonde haired sixteen year old was proud of it. Due to her, the various navies now knew a lot more about how Natural Borns awoke as shipgirls. And with that knowledge, others could be helped. In fact, Hanna had been told about one Natural Born in Japan, who's health was an issue, but was now being helped by what they had learned from her. Part of her did wonder if they would meet when she went to the wedding though.

Moments after that thought though, Hanna opened her eyes and gave a nod before glancing in either direction and walking across the road to the bar. While she did so, the sixteen year old noted that various people passed the bar without noticing it was even there. Thankfully, there were ways around it. As shown by the GSG9 personnel currently on some of the buildings nearby and watching. Each of them had been briefed more then a year ago in order to provide support due to the rise in strange happenings.

Upon entering the establishment though, the Natural Born could easily sport her sister in one of the booths nursing a drink. At the bar, the twins Gneisenau and Scharnhorst were softly talking with the bartender. The sight of all three allowed Hanna to relax some though she did wish that both Max and Lebe could be there, she often had the two Destroyers as backup on various missions.

It was then that she spotted the woman that she was meeting in at a table sipping some wine. With her were two other young women, one of whom was giving the fireplace a narrowed eyed glare. Almost as if she hated the sight of the flames dancing there, devouring the logs. The one that she was meeting turned and met her eyes before smiling. As Hanna walked over though, she was reminded of the rather odd letter requesting a meeting with her. At first, she was just going to ignore it before it was pointed out that it could be a way to gather intelligence.

Especially when the crest on the wax seal was identified.

While crossing the floor though, Hanna felt another shiver down her back though she did not show it. The reason was how the three women were now looking at her. Part of their looks were that of lust, but a dark one. The rest was that another part of those looks reminded her of nothing more then a pack of wild dogs eyeing a dead carcass, hungry for meat. Pure predatory looks that made her human instincts scream to run and not to stop.

Instead, she sat down at an offered chair and frowned at the leader of the women. "Guten Abend, I am Hanna Hipper. Though I am sure that you knew that."

Chuckling, the woman across from her flashed a smile of white teeth, much like a hungry wolf might. "Guten Abend, Fraulein Hipper, and yes I did know that. I am not like others of my type after all."

That made Hanna narrow her eyes a little at the dark, red haired woman. "Oh? Type?"

If anything though, that seemed to amuse the woman. "Ja, type. Neither of us are fools, Jaeger." Sipping the glass filled with a red drink, one that Hanna glanced at, the woman smiled. "We both know what the other truly is after all... Ah, but where are mein manners? You may call me... Liz, for this meeting."

Eyebrow raised as she waved for a drink of her own, Hanna frowned. "Liz?"

Lightly laughing, there was dark amusement in those eyes that flashed at her. "Ja, Liz. Is it not how people refer to each other in the here and now?" Waving a hand, she hummed some. "But I am sure that you are wondering why I asked for you to be here?"

Humming as she leaned back, Hanna gave a nod. "The question did cross mein mind, I will admit. Especially with what I found out."

Only placing the wine glass down, the woman smirked a bit. "Oh, I am sure it was most interesting, perhaps enlightening? Though you do not need to worry, I am not about to harm you so your friends here do not need to be so tense."

That caused Hanna's eyes to widen a touch. "What do you mean..." Her question died as she noticed the two women giving knowing glances at where Hipper and the Twins were. Expression stoning itself even as her heartbeat sped up, Hanna let out a breath. "Then why did you ask for this meeting?"

Finger running along the rim of her glass, Liz stared at her in thought, or rather, her gaze was below Hanna's eyes. "Ah, and so brusque you are." Then her eyes lit up in glee. "Rather nice change of pace, I do agree. In regards to why? It has to do with a walk you took."

Blinking, Hanna tilted her head some before stopping. "A walk?"

A small smirk on her face, Liz leaned forward and entwined her fingers in front of her face. "Oh yes, a rather... enthusiastic walk that you took. I can tell you more, but only if you won't get mad at me."

It took a few moments, but then the Natural Born gave the woman across from her a disbelieving look. "Did you just honestly quote Hellsing Abridged at me?"

Soft snickers from one of the other two women made Hanna glance at her. "Oh yes, Mistress found that rather amusing you know." Grinning, she leaned forward some. "As a matter of fact, she shared it with an old... acquaintance of ours. His reaction was worth it."

Looking between them, Hanna furrowed her eyebrows some. "I... see." Not sure if they were trying to throw her off or not, she cleared her throat. "And the reason?"

Once more picking up her wine glass, Liz examined the contents before taking a small sip. "Ah, it has to do with an event more then a year ago regarding a certain group. March 3, 2012 as a matter of fact." Spotting the slight widening eyes, she smirked. "I am sure that you understand what I am talking about."

Muscles tensing, Hanna was ready to leap back and pull her sidearm. But she kept herself under control. "Yes, I think that I know the group that you are talking about. May I ask what reason that you are concerning yourself with that?"

The woman blinked and laughed. "You may, Fraulein. Believe it or not, you did me a favor and saved me a large amount of trouble when you killed those fools. Granted, I wish that I could have still done the deed, but alas, it was not to be and we do not always get what we want. Or in the way we may wish." Hanna could once more see the dark amusement in the other woman's gaze. She then spread her arms with a self-depreciating smile on her face. "A fact that I am all too familiar with."

Relaxing just a touch, Hanna looked at the bartender who set down a stein of beer in front of her. If there was one good thing, she was able to drink. Especially as she had a feeling that she was going to be using that fact soon. "Oh? And why would you concern yourself with this group. Was it because of what they were doing."

Finger tapping against the table, Liz hummed before chuckling and shaking her head. "Not quite, though that was annoying. It was bringing the sort of attention that myself and others did not like after all. But there was another reason for it, and that has to do with the fact that despite everything I care for family."

Brought up short, Hanna leaned in some. "Family?"

Lips twitching, the woman gave a nod. "Ja, family. I love my family even if they would rather that I not be brought up. Oh, I can understand why mind you, even if I dislike it. In fact, I find no fault in what they have done. But the fact remains, the Potters were my family. That group of... dogs helped Grindlewald kill most of my family. I took a good deal of my pound of flesh from them for that, you can believe me. But then when Voldemort rose in Britain, they allied with him. And Voldemort slew James and Lily Potter, James being a distant... cousin of mine. Something that most angered me."

The growl that escaped the dark haired woman once more sent Hanna's instincts running. Even the bartender paused at the bar and from where she was, the Natural Born could see her sister freeze as did the Twins. Then Liz calmed herself and took a gulp of her drink as one of the two women accompanying her placed her hand on top of the dark eyed woman's. The other turned to Hanna and gave her a look. "Our Mistress dearly cares for family as you can see. To harm them would bring down her wrath."

Setting down the wine glass, Liz took a deep breath before her eyes flashed crimson. "Thank you, Dorotya." With another sigh, she turned back to Hanna. "I was hunting them down and would kill each one as I came across them. To listen to them as I showed them my... displeasure. But they are dead at your hands, Hanna Hipper, though as I stated I have little issue with such. I have also informed the others who might cause problems that I will be on the lookout for them if they do so and I will deal with them personally. Especially if the British Dark Lord returns and tries to get them to aid him. He is an enemy of mine now by blood and by deed. I wished to meet you personally to gain an... understanding of you."

Eyebrow raising, Hanna frowned. "And have you?"

Just chuckling, Liz gave a nod. "I have as a matter of fact, and I realize something. You and I, we are both Jaeger. Different perhaps, but we both have that hunter inside of us if for different things. Sometime in the future, if you have need, you may call upon me for a favor as long as it is not too much." Draining the rest of her glass, she got up with her two followers doing the same. "Please, tell my cousin Harry that I bid him luck, perhaps we shall meet in the future." Lips curling into a smile, the dark eyed woman began to walk away. "Auf Wiedersehen, Fraulein Hanna Hipper."

Moments later, she walked out the door and once it was closed, Hanna relaxed. Glancing at the door, Hipper hurried over and looked at her sister. "Are you alright, Hanna?"

Slowly, Hanna gave a nod as the tension in her body drained out of her even as she heard the voices in her earset. "Target has now left the building and-MEIN GOTT!"

All four shipgirls whipped their heads around and hurried for the door before throwing it open. There, in the moonlight were the three women... but their forms were changing. Their bodies flowed like melted wax as they shifted, claws bursting from their feet as their arms became webbed. With a final smirk, showing her fangs, Liz, better known as Elizabeth Bathory, leapt up into the sky with her two childe before vanishing into the night. Coughing into her fist, Scharnhorst looked at her sister. "So... that happened."

Hanna only sighed and shook her head. Thankfully, all she would need to do is write a report on that and she could head off to Yokosuka for the wedding while dropping this into someone else's lap...

 

[darthcourt10]

Harry Leferts

Natsumi gave a mutter as she turned over in her futon and kicked off some of the blankets she had on. Within moments though, a hand reached over and pulled the blankets back on them as a cloaked figure watched over her for a few moments before walking over to the window and then lightly jumping up onto the sill there. Simply sitting with their legs hanging out the window, the figure then tossed back the hood to reveal a young man of about sixteen years of age with hair and eyes so black they seemed to absorb light.

Changing his position so that he was leaning against the wall with only one foot swinging freely, the young man just looked up in the sky in thought before snorting. "I know that you're there, Juuchi. Don't tell me that you're after my current Mistress."

Lightly laughing, Juuchi walked into view with a grin on her face before crossing her arms. "Me? I would never dare." Head tilted up to the side, her grin became a smirk. "So, Carnwennan, you finally showed your face then?"

Swinging his leg, Carnwennan gave Juuchi a raised eyebrow. "Not like I have much of a choice, Juuchi. Granted, I much prefer this to being shoved somewhere to gather dust." Just sighing as he stretched, he let out a groan. "That said, with how long I have been out and about I am worried."

Arms crossed, Juuchi frowned some. "Because of that 'Hunter' you mentioned that once?"

With a slow nod, Carnwennan hummed. "Yes, I have my suspicions as to who it might be. But someone has been gathering those of my heritage up. And I have no doubt that she might know where I am right now, which means that they might come to take me."

Her arms still crossed, Juuchi gave a snort. "And steal you? The Potters did the same you know."

Carnwennan just turned to her and gave her a look. "Yes, the Potters did steal me from where I was hidden in Wales. You're right about that. But the Potters still used me for what I was made to do. My purpose is to fight and kill in protection of others, to slay evil. Not be tossed into some sort of vault awaiting a day that might never come."

Eyebrow raised, Juuchi gave him a narrowed eyed look. "Oh? How so? And what about the Potters? I was used more often after all."

The black haired teen grinned. "Oh, that is true enough you smug sword. But that is because the Potters actually paid attention to history and knew that items such as I often went missing soon after becoming known. So they took pains to use me only when they had need of my... abilities... and then put be back into safety as soon as possible. Not to say that there were not some close calls though. As to the day I am talking about?" He leaned forward some and hummed. "I mean the day that my first Master will return."

Only chuckling, Juuchi shook her head. "You mean how King Arthur is said to return during the darkest day of Britain?" At the nod, she rolled her eyes before pulling out a blood orange and slowly peeling it. "I can understand why you would think that the chances of his return are low. After all, he has not shown up even when Britain looked on the edge of collapse. Even with the Abyssals knocking on the gate, and a good deal of the nation bombed and burning, he still did not show."

Shrugging, Carnwennan shook his head. "Exactly. Do not get me wrong, Juuchi, I love my first Master and would serve him if he was to return from Avalon. But I am not going to allow myself to be stuck in some vault for who knows how many thousands of years waiting for the possibility of his return." Pointing at the still sleeping Natsumi, he shook his head. "The young Potter made a good choice when he gifted me to her. She has used me for my purpose after all and I would not want to be separated from her."

With a grumble as she took a slice of orange, Juuchi scowled. "No, I suppose not after what I heard from my Master's adopted mother. Honestly, if I was there that blasted spider would not have lasted long and I would have gladly shown her what her insides were like while bathing in blood."

A grin on his face, Carnwennan snickered. "How sad that I got that chance instead." Holding out a hand, he ignored the glare from Juuchi before she sighed and tossed him a piece of orange. "Still, if the one who is after me comes, I'll escape her again. Not the first time that I did so after all... as loathe as I am to leave Mistress' side."

Humming as he bit into the piece of blood orange, Juuchi leaned against the wall of Natsumi's home. "I have no doubt that you could manage that, you overgrown piece of tableware." Suddenly, she gained a smug expression. "But I am looking forward to what may happen in the future now."

Softly snorting, Carnwennan shook his head. "You would, you damn psychopath."

Instead of being insulted, Juuchi only was amused and became more smug. "As if you have anything to speak of. You're at least as bloodthirsty as a Muramasa even if you control it better Mister 'I slay whatever I am used against'." Getting a laugh, she waited until Carnwennan had put the rest of the orange slice into his mouth. "Though speaking of which, now that we are in Japan I may see if one of my sisters is available~"

Blinking, Carnwennan suddenly began to choke before beating his chest and shooting her a glare. "Are you suggesting setting me up with one of your siblings!?"

Juuchi only became more smug. "Yes. Some of them might go with the whole 'Pretty-boy sneaking in the night' thing that you have. And I think that you need to be laid... though in that case I would suggest Honjo as she also needs a good bedding, but I am unsure if she would loosen up even then."

Face reddening, the dagger glare increased only to bounce off Juuchi's smug. 'Blasted crude blood knight...'

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Yokosuka a sword sneezed somehow before giving a metaphorical blink.
____________________________________________________________________

Checking his watch, Harry frowned some as he waited at an out of the way place in Yokosuka, not far from the base. It was one of the many backstreets formed not far from where the base was. Walls rose up blocking the view while nearby Harry could hear life continuing on as it always did. Eyes closed, he hummed while leaning against a wall and enjoyed the shade as he was out of the hot, July sun.

Several minutes later though he opened his eyes and grinned as a group of red heads appeared in the street. "Ron!" Walking up, the two boys greeted each other with a manly hug before Harry turned to the others. "Gred and Forge, I would shake your hands but I'm almost afraid that something would happen."

Instead of being insulted, the twins simply grinned and shared a look. "Rather smart fellow, Harry is."

Nodding, the other one laughed some. "Yes, I suppose that he is." Mock thoughtful, Fred hummed. "Perhaps we have become a mite predictable?"

George shook his head with a sad look on his face before clapping his brother on the shoulder. "Nay, my dearest twin. You have become predictable. I however am still unpredictable due to my intelligence."

Only snickering as the two did their thing, Harry soon turned and gave Ginny a look. "How are you doing, Ginny? Any problems?"

Even though she felt her cheeks heat up, Ginny shook her head. "N-no, not really. Mum has been having me talk with some sort of counselors that Warspite suggested. Well, except for when we went on vacation anyways."

Placing a hand on her youngest's shoulders, Molly gave Harry a smile. "They won't tell us everything, something about patient confidentiality, but they have stated that Ginny has been doing well." Instead of being displeased about it, the Weasley matriarch was rather happy. It meant there was less chance of anyone finding something to use against Ginny after all. "Now let's look at you, Harry dear." Giving him a once over, she smiled before pulling him into a hug. "You're just sprouting like a weed. Seems like you are eating just well then."

Hands behind his head, Harry only grinned. "Well enough to be honest. Rationing isn't really as big of an issue as it was anymore. Not that Mum would let me go hungry anyways and there's always fish coming in thanks to various girls in the expedition fleets."

Arthur chose that moment to walk up and clap him on the shoulder. "I have to thank you once more, Harry. For saving Ginny." Lips curling a bit at the blush on both children's faces, he gestured to the next oldest Weasley. "Anyways, I don't think that you met him but this is my eldest, Bill."

Part of Harry could not help but comment at how cool the young man looked, what with the dragon tooth earring. The rest remembered what Ron had told him before he shook the hand. "You ever meet a Lara Croft?"

Utterly confused, Bill noticed Ron facepalm and mutter while grinning. "Um, no, I don't believe that I have? Any particular reason why I might have?"

There was a glint in the black haired boy's eyes that told the eldest Weasley child that he was amused about something. "Oh, she's just a fellow tomb raider, that's all. Thought that you might have met her at some point. What about a Doctor Jones?"

Lost completely, Bill glanced to see that Ron had turned and his shoulders were shaking while the Twins had massive grins on their faces. "No, I haven't met any Doctor Jones either." Eyebrow raising, he shook his head. 'I am going to need to ask that bunch what was so funny.'

It was then that Harry turned to Percy and blinked at the woman at his side. "Percy? Who's this now?" Then much to Bill's surprise, Harry's eyes glowed green before his eyebrows rose. "Wait, she's a shipgirl?"

Only nodding, Percy coughed into one fist. "Harry, I would like you to meet Amisi, Amisi, I would like you to meet my good friend Harry Potter."

Harry gave a small bow at that. "A pleasure to meet you, Amisi." He watched as the fairy on her shoulder spoke to the shipgirl before she nodded and spoke back to him. The fairy translating which made him nod as it told him that she felt the same. But one part made him raise an eyebrow and look at Percy. "Pharaoh?"

Blushing, Percy gave a sigh. "She believes that I am the Pharaoh that she served as a ship. I keep telling her that I'm not, but..."

Just tilting his head to the side, the black haired boy shook his head. "Who's to say that you aren't? If ships can be reincarnated as Natural Borns, who is to say that other souls can't be? And it's not like that would be the weirdest thing out there." Turning from frowning Percy, Harry gave Amisi a glance and nodded to himself. 'Huh, at least her dress is not as bad as it could have been.' After a few moments though, he shook his head. "Anyways, we should probably get you to the hotel."

With a nod of her own, Molly took charge. "Of course dear." Reaching into her pocket, she brought out a letter and handed it to him. "Nagato, bless her heart, put us up in a hotel. According to her it is one normally used by foreign tourists? Though she really did not need to apologize for us not being able to stay on the base."

Looking over the name, Harry felt his eyebrow raise even as he nodded. "Mum is like that, though she's right about the base. There's a lot of people showing up for the wedding on the military side. Not just Warspite and some of the other girls from Britain either, we got shipgirls from all over with personnel. Heck, somehow Miss Gale and Washington got a flight first class all the way from the US to here." At the looks, he shook his head. "Kirishima-Oba knows them and are close friends, and Haruna-Oba invited them. And I know that Haruna-Oba invited Tiger and the Kirkpatrick family as well."

A frown on his face, Ron furrowed his eyebrows some before snapping his fingers. "Oh yeah! Duke mentioned that some Italian shipgirls that Haruna met are going to be here as well."

Even as he chuckled, Harry gave a small nod. "Yeah, Roma is going to be here and so are some others. Then you got Hanna, the Hippers, and some of the other German shipgirls as well. I think that Bismarck will be coming along with Hood, but not sure about that." He then gave a shrug. "So yeah, it's pretty busy back on base and will be for the next day or so as they arrive. Mum is also going a bit spare as Mutsu-Oba is coming and she's close to her due date."

Her eyes widening, Molly leaned towards him. "Nagato did mention that actually, may I ask how far along?"

Giving the matter some thought, Harry frowned. "Maybe in a few weeks? She's pretty much in the last month now after all."

Eyes softening, Molly shook her head. "Hopefully she'll be alright since this is her first, she does not need the stress after all. I know from experience and to have twins as your first..." Head turning, she gave Fred and George a look. "I know how hard having twins can be normally."

Only shaking his head, Harry chuckled. "Trust me, she's fine. Besides, Mum is not going to let her strain herself and neither will Uncle John or any of the others. We have it in hand anyways..." Glancing back at the letter, he handed it back to Molly. "Um, anyways I know where this is so I'll take you all to it so you can settle down."

With a nod, the Weasleys began to follow him as he guided them along.

 

[darthcourt10]

NotHimAgain

Continuing On

-----

"Well, I don't know what's going on here, but these… these things…" the voice sobbed as the camera panned around. There were three of them, two pale as the moon and slender, graceful, the third red in the cheeks and smiling darkly. "I don't think they're gonna let us leave."

"Shite," the camera turned to face the driver's seat. A college age boy, huddled with his arms covering his head. "Shite, shite, shite, shite. Ah heard stories, but this…"

The camera turned around to face it's holder, another college boy—this one American, by the "Florida University" jacket he wore. "I don't know what's going on here," he repeated, "but if we don't get home, then just… Mom, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry—"

"SOOOO!"

The American fumbled his camera, seemingly searching for whoever was calling out. "What's that? Who's that?"

Finally, the camera focused, pointed out the window. A figure, tiny for its distance, stood beyond the creatures watching the car. "Shit, is that a kid? What's going on, what's she saying?"

"Jack Churchill, Audie Murphy, and Simo Hayha walk into a bar," Ooyodo said, frowning as she focused and listened. "It's going to be a joke someday, but I've only figured out the first line. What do you—"

One of the creatures charged her, moving with inhuman grace and speed. Suddenly, light shone in the girl's hand and her arm whipped across. The creature's head separated from its shoulders. The ruddy creature howled in rage and charged itself. The girl rolled to the side, narrowly dodging, and came up stabbing, and it cried out in pain, lashing out again. The light, a knife or something, flashed again and its arm fell away. Another second, and the fight was over. The last creature stared, then turned and fled so fast that it almost blurred away.

"What the hell was that?" the camera man asked, stunned. "Oh—oh God, she's coming this way! Oh—"

"Nae," the driver said, voice trembling slightly. "Heard aboot this, too. Pretty sure she's on our side."

"Our side, really?"

The girl tapped at the window. She appeared to be in her late teens, with dark hair and eyes and a cocky smile. Clasped in her hand was a hunting knife that looked too old and mystical for a Scottish teenager.

"'Ello, yeh two," she said brightly. "Maybe yer not from around 'ere, but these roads aren't whit ye'd call safe during th' night. Yeh might want ta head back inta town." Turning away, she vanished into the night."

"Well?" Goto said, leaning forward. "What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"Her name is Gillian McKay," Ooyodo explained. "Apparently, the girls in her family take the mother's surname, so that there's always a McKay woman… according to some of the comments on the video, at least, some of these are locals. They have a reputation as… problem solvers, of a sort. But the women of her line have a history of strange rumors about them that goes back generations—Eighteenth century, at least. Considering that we have a local monster hunter who Miyuki tells us has a family history of "adventures," according to his older sister, I considered the two similar enough to bring it to your attention."

"Is that so," Goto mused. "Is this video anywhere else on the internet?"

"It spread like wildfire, and was just as quickly deleted," she replied. "This is one of the few that they haven't hit yet."

"Interesting," he stood. "How quickly can we get into contact with Dumbledore?"
-----

"Haru?" Harry called, pushing the door open. "Is everything alright in here? I heard shouting…" Natsumi craned her neck over his shoulder.

"I'm fine, really," Haru replied, ignoring the struggling child tucked under her arm. "A hyperactive, possibly mental little itachi child isn't enough to get to me." The little girl wrenched her arm free and dug her nails into the kitsune's arm. "Though," Haru continued, gritting the words out, "she is certainly coming close."

"And what's your name?" Harry asked, leaning down and bringing his face level with the angry child. She pouted at him and looked away.

"Emi," Haru replied. "She's from Sakura-shinmachi. Apparently, Tatsuya-kun had a little bit of an… incident when he first arrived, and this clever little girl got it into her head that she should follow him back home and ensure that he wouldn't do it again." She groaned. "Could you take her off my hands for a moment? I still have some work to do."
-----

Umi stared. Yae stood in the middle of a growing circle of milling destroyers. The closest three had all pressed their ears to her stomach, and the rest of them crowded around chattering excitedly. Yae looked up, giving Umi a baleful look.

"It happens," Umi said casually, leaning against the wall. "Be a while before the pack loses interest. Might as well stay seated until they calm down."

"I hate you so much," Yae replied.
-----

The woman watched through the fence as the sailors ran about preparing their ship for departure. She focused on one in particular, an African American with a large smile who walked with an easy grace.

"Hey!" a voice called out, and she turned slowly, looking down at the girl who had called her out. "Who are you, and what are you doing here? Why are you watching?"

"Jane Richardson," the woman said evenly, her voice carrying a bit of a Gaelic lilt. "You noticed me?"

The girl scoffed. "Well of course! You're just standing right there in the open, spying on my men! In fact—how do you know my name? I think I'd remember if I'd met someone like you!"

The woman looked her up and down. "Yes," she said to herself, "she could replace the Henleys. But so young… she noticed me. The test will have to wait a few years."

"Hey! Are you listening to me?" Jane shouted. The woman frowned.

"A few more years," she said. "We will meet again, Jane Richardson."

"What are you even talking about?"

And when Jane tried to grab the woman's sleeve, her hand passed right through her form and she vanished like a mirage.
-----

Well what do you think, sirs?

 

[darthcourt10]

mikelima777

CFB Esquimalt, British Columbia

Lombard sighed at the pile of paperwork waiting for her on her desk. Like most officers, regardless of their service, she hated paperwork and was thankful that her secretary ship helped a lot. It was still annoying, but not as soul (and desk crushing) as it could have been. The female RCN Rear Admiral glanced out the window, as ships as well as shipgirls went about their duties, some preparing to sortie out.

She took one of the documents and relaxed a bit. It was a report from Queen Elizabeth, the battleship Queen Elizabeth who along with Barham were helping teach three ships, sisters that originally did not exist.

Three improved Queen Elizabeths were proposed in a naval bill that naturally failed in Ottawa. But it appeared that a Canadian Wizard of considerable power had decided to give his life to bring forth the three ships, as well as one of the most infamous cancelled naval projects of World War II. Even now Diana could hardly imagine it: HMCS Habbukuk, a giant aircraft carrier made of ice and wood, large enough to be confused for an installation-type kanmusu. Though speaking of Habukkuk, nicknamed "cookie" for reasons beyond Lombard, Diana groaned as she recalled a note from MARLANT about Bonaventure taking the much larger carrier under her wing. God help us all, Rear-Admiral Lombard thought.

Shuddering at that information, she focused on the report and slightly smiled at what the British battleship reported. The three Canadian sisters were doing rather well, considering their lack of experience. Queen Elizabeth felt that they could go for some minor patrols as training, which Lombard decided to approve once she got the go-ahead from NDHQ. They had also picked out their names, after much deliberation and debate. The one who they considered the "eldest" was chosen to take the name Canada, and thus became named after the nation she now had the opportunity to serve. The second "eldest" took the name Laurentia, after the continental craton that forms the geological core of North America. The "youngest" sister had decided to break the combo, calling herself Evangeline, after the famed epic poem about the Acadians. Lombard signed off on the report, before taking a break to contemplate her life.

If you had told one newly promoted Sub-Lieutenant Diana Lombard, fresh out of BMOQ training, that in just under a decade she would reach flag rank and would command more ships than the entire Canadian Forces Maritime Command at the time of her enlistment, she would have probably scoffed at the claim and accused you of insanity. Even more so the fact she would command beings that embodied the spirits of warships of the past, who had returned to serve Canada once more. Yet, Rear-Admiral Lombard had missed those days, when the biggest worry for the Navy was the budgeting in Ottawa, and whether the old Sea Kings would finally get a replacement. She missed many of the faces of her BMOQ platoon mates, some of whom were no longer around.

Some considered her a hero, as she was able to get intelligence that at least kept the Canadian Navy in the fight during and after blood week. Her now-legendary voyage commanding HMCS Endeavour during blood week was now a major part of RCN lore, even if some of the things she and her crew had learned were still classified. Yet that information allowed the Canadians, despite the losses and attacks on several coastal cities, and their growing fleet of shipgirls to hold back the Abyssals with help from the Americans before enough shipgirls returned and successfully pushed the Abyssals out of Canadian and American waters. The sight of the battered but still afloat Endeavour, arriving in the damaged city of Vancouver after disappearing for eleven days, four days after Blood Week, brought back hope to many Canadians.

For their incredible courage and deeds aboard the unarmed vessel, the entire 50-man crew of Endeavour received medals and decorations, though 7 members were awarded posthumously. Diana Lombard was awarded the Victoria Cross for her leadership and actions on Endeavour, though she downplayed the honour, feeling that she was only doing her duties. The surviving crew members kept in close contact, even as their career paths diverged, some leaving the Navy after their harrowing voyage, while others like Diana rose up the ranks.

Rear-Admiral Diana Lombard was now in command of MARPAC, the Royal Canadian Navy's Pacific Fleet, in charge of both regular vessels and shipgirls. While MARPAC had fewer shipgirls than MARLANT, the Pacific Fleet was assigned more of the heavy hitting ships; the main threat in the Atlantic were abyssal submarines and merchant raiders, which was the domain of destroyers, frigates, and corvettes.

Blood Week had badly mauled the Canadian Navy, and many good officers and sailors gave the ultimate sacrifice for Canada. The 1970s Tribal-class missile destroyers were lost in action. Of the 12 Halifax class frigates, the backbone of the fleet before Blood Week, half were lost, along with HMCS Charlottetown being written off. Many of the smaller vessels were just cannon fodder. But the Canadians survived, and the fleet rebuilt itself.

A few years before Blood Week, Canada had developed an improved Halifax-class design after DND became aware of things discovered by Lombard via highly classified sources, the Hamilton-class. They were bigger, beefier than their immediate predecessor. The hull was lengthened and reinforced to accommodate a 5-inch gun instead of the 57 mm Bofors mount of the Halifax-class, as well as a 16-cell Mark 41 VLS module. Small destroyers in all but name, they were also developed with improved crew protection, as well as other means to increase survivability. The changes, while extensive, proved to be lifesaving.

Six of the Hamiltons were in service when the Abyssals came on Blood Week and only two were lost, though one, HMCS Trois Riviere, barely limped back to port. Given the pressing needs and the lack of time to develop another design, Ottawa thus ordered the largest expansion of the Canadian Navy since WWII. The Hamilton design was further improved for fighting abyssals and working with shipgirls. 11 improved Hamiltons were initially ordered, with options for more. Unlike before, the order was contracted to any Canadian shipyard that could accommodate the 5,500-ton frigates. As well, there were talks with Huntington Ingalls to develop a variant of the Israeli Sa'ar 5s for patrolling close to Canadian waters, freeing up the shipgirls and the Hamiltons for longer ranged operations.

Along with other ships, some converted and other purpose-built, the Royal Canadian Navy and the Canadian Forces were doing their part in the fight with the Abyssals. While Blood Week and other Abyssals attacks had hurt Canada, the country would never go down with a fight. As many Abyssal submarines in the Atlantic had come to know, the Canadians for all their politeness and reluctance to attack, were like an angry bear when provoked. Relentless, ruthless, and unyielding.

Even so, Lombard looked sadly at pictures of the ships lost, focusing on one ship in particular. HMCS Regina, the fifth Halifax-class frigate, had responded to a distress call off the Aleutians, being the only vessel in range and strangely not under attack at the time of the call. They had reported contact with the enemy after safely getting a stricken fishing vessel to safety, and were surrounded. The Captain had said they would go down swinging before their radio died out. HMCS Halifax had also disappeared, never heard from again. They were presumed lost with all hands and were posthumously awarded for their final actions; two of the Flight II Hamiltons were named after the two frigates, along with other vessels confirmed lost in the war. There was a nagging feeling in the back of Lombard's mind, but she couldn't figure out what it was...

(Somewhere in the Aleutian Islands)

To any observer, the island looked pretty much the same as the other small Aleutians, rocky with trees and isolated populations of animals. But underneath what was supposedly rubble, was an entrance to a cove, deep but surrounded by cliffs and dense forest. In the cove lay a warship that had seen better days. Battered, damaged, but afloat, it was moored to a pier hastily built, connecting to a small village. In it, two groups of former adversaries, human and abyssals, had learned to work and live alongside one another. The humans were once prisoners of the latter, treated at least with dignity, but the handful of abyssals had nearly lost everything they held dear. Their fleet and their princess, who just wanted to be left alone, was attacked by other abyssals. They had escaped, barely, fleeing together and forced to set aside the past. They had tried to send out distress calls, but the calls were ignored as interference at best or a possible trap at worst. Now, they just went about their lives to just make it another day. To survive. To thrive, to figure a way to return home despite everything that had happened.

But despite everything, the warship in the cove floated defiantly despite having fired everything in what was supposed to be her final stand, her hull still showing her hull number, 334, while on the mast, the flag that served as the Naval ensign circa Blood Week still flew.

Any thoughts?

 

[darthcourt10]

SoulessScotsman

A/N: Just a little something. My laptop is getting fixed, so I haven't had much chance to write.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Anderson was not having a good day. Point of fact, he wasn't having a good week. And as he glared bloody murder at the Marine Sergeant before him, he fought the urge to scream.

"Sergeant Sears," he snarled.

"Yessir?" she replied.

He did not yell. Point of fact, he kept his voice level. But it was a struggle.

"Why in the Seven Firies is there a platoon of Marine MPs outside my house?"

The Sergeant, to her credit, did not react, "Corvina reported suspicious activity from your housing, to which both Ranger and Massachusetts responded. Five minutes later, they requested that the block around your housing be cordoned off and locked down."

Anderson sighed explosively, "Alright. Where's the other shoe?"

"They requested that you be directed to them the moment any of us saw you. They didn't sound like anything was wrong, per se, but..."

Anderson groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, "'Hope for the best, plan for the worst.' Great. Thank you, Sergeant, I'll try to resolve whatever shitshow this is."

Sears saluted, "Luck, Sir. You may be Army, but Ol' Ironsides vouched for you, so you can't be all that bad."

He rolled his eyes, "Thanks, Sergeant. Really."

Having nothing left to say, the Trooper stalked toward his house, hand on his holstered sidearm. When he passed the two Marines in full battle rattle they both saluted him.

"Marines," Anderson greeted them, returning the salute.

When he neared the door, he thumbed the safety of his pistol. Stalking up to the door, he stopped on his doormat. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped through, closing it behind him.

Seeing Corvina sitting half-awake on the stairs was not what he expected. She immediately perked up when she saw him, though.

"Dad!" she cried, leaping forward to hug him.

Anderson picked her up and hugged her close, "Corvina, are you okay?"

She nodded against his chest, "I'm fine, Dad. Melissa and Ranger are here. Now you are, too."

Anderson adjusted his grip so the little sub sat on his forearm, "So I am. And I also see that you stole one of my shirts. Again."

"Daaad," she whined, "But they make such great sleeping shirts!"

He chuckled, "Fine, fine. Now, run along to bed. I'll be up in a little bit."

Corvina suddenly buried her face into his chest and her hand fisted in his uniform, "Dad..."

Anderson frowned momentarily before he smiled again and pressed his lips to her messy black hair, "Go ahead to my room, sweetie. You'll be staying with me for tonight. I'll make sure you're safe. Promise."

The little sub nodded, tears in her eyes, "Love you, Daddy."

He set her down and hugged her again, "Love you, too, sweetie. Try to get some sleep, okay? Go on, now."

When she was all the way up the stairs and he heard his bedroom door close, Anderson walked to his living room.

Ranger stood in front of his tv, stone faced and tense. She held her M1 by the muzzle, buttplate pressed into his carpet while her other hand rested against her hip. Massachusetts leaned against the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room, arms crossed over her chest and face set in a fierce frown. Both glared icily at the third occupant, who sat in his armchair, idly sipping tea from a teacup he most certainly did not own.

She was beautiful in a way few women ever could be. She was blonde, with hair the color of sunlight and looked like the idealized young lady in the cusp of her youth. But...it was as if her appearance defied further description. Like he lacked the words to even try.

She took a sip of her tea and sighed happily. Setting it down on the saucer, she opened her eyes.

That was when First Lieutenant William Crowe Anderson knew she wasn't human. They were just like the Handmaiden's. Warmer and kinder, sure. But the same.

She was a Sídhe. A Faery.

The Fae smiled brightly, setting her tea on the coffee table, "Ah! The man of the hour finally arrives."

The Trooper tensed. Ranger and Massachusetts glared harder.

The Fae stood, still smiling, and clasped her hands before her, "I am Aurora, Lady of the Summer Court. I have come to have words with you, Nephew."
------------------------------------------------------------
A/N: You guys better appreciate this. I did all this from a first gen iPad. Oy vey.

Also! Feel free to point out errors. And kindly reserve judgment untill I have the rest out. This is just what I have at the moment.

 

[darthcourt10]

Lord K

Looking up at the shop before her, Ashigara took a moment to double check the name on the bilboard outside against on of the stickers still stuck to the back of poor, wretchedly hungover Shokaku's shirt.

Ken-gitsune Metalworking and Blacksmiths. In a rare break from the wolf and dog imagery so rife throughout the rest of the town, the modern looking logo on both the sticker and the billboard atop the equally modern looking commercial low rise and workshop, takes the form of a stylised fox descending from above with a sword held in it's mouth.

Beneath her borrowed dress, Ashigara feels her tail swish with distracted nervousness, while her ears flick beneath the woollen hat she has on loan.

"Well.... this looks like the place."

Beside her, Jun'yo tilts her head curiously. "I'll admit, a building as modern as this is not where I'd have expected to find a magical blacksmith who's master-apprentice line goes all the way back to the Sengoku." Glancing around the street, and catching sight of a nearby apothecary openly masquerading as a new age and traditional medicine store, the carrier then shakes her head. "I think I'm starting to see a trend here."

Following Jun'yo's gaze down the road, Akagi catches sight of something else further along the way and cringes. Atop a small grove of trees, are traffic cones placed upon a successively higher set of firs, as if the climbers were in competition with each other to get successive objects up onto higher places. And then there is one tree that is completely broken, snapped over and shattered as if it had abruptly found a great weight in it's brunches that not even it's trunk could support.

The Red Castle shifts nervously. "That wasn't..... We didn't have anything to do with that did we? Right?"

The group collectively look at each other with the kind of nervous uncertainty only blackout drunks with no recollections of the previous evening's drunken climax can have.

Then they notice the police cruiser pulling up on the sidewalk, and someone getting out to inspect the broken tree. Still in her police vest and broken handcuffs, Kaga wordlessly does her best to disappear into the center of the group, and fade into the background noise of the universe. Iowa meanwhile, becomes immensely self aware of the fact that she is the only blonde in the group, and also towers by nearly a head over everyone else present in an already rather above average in height group of women.

"Maaaaaaybe we should get inside. I mean, I doubt we have anything to worry about. But just to be safe..... Plus, this sun probably isn't doing Shokaku any favours."

Leaning on her sister ship for mutual support, the less-lucky-crane gives a pitiable whisper. "... kill.... me...."

Nursing a hangover of her own, Zuikaku follows the others toward the door. "Come on, I think I see a vending machine in there. Let's get inside and I'll buy us some water."

As soon as they are through the door, half the group makes a B-line for the vending machine. Ashigara however, heads her the desk of the surprisingly modern looking reception and waiting area. One that isn't actually manned by anyone.

Content to wait quietly for the first minute, increasingly she glances around with curiosity and confusion. A window in the back wall offers a glimpse into the main floor of the metal workshop, but nobody is present in the room either. To all appearances, the work floor is simply empty of employees. A curious glance over the desk however, reveals that the reception computer is still on, very faintly, Ashigara can hear a sound like metal on metal.

"There are open, right?"

Taking a glance back at the entrance, Jun'yo nods. "Well, the sign on the door does say that they are."

Frowning in confusion, the Hungry Wolf(girl) catches sight of a bronze bell on the counter. For lack of any other options, she then gives it a ring.

For a few moments, nothing happens.

And then there is a slight chime and a shifting noise from the security door connecting the reception to the main floor. Looking at it curiously, the Heavy Cruiser and Carrier then watch in confusion as the currently dimmed red "Machinery in Operation" light above the door rotates in it's fixture to now become a lit blue sign reading "Magical Processes in Use". Meanwhile on the door itself, the back light behind the lock keypad follows a similar red-to-blue change in color scheme, while what light can be seen through the frosted glass seems to become oddly dimmer compared to the interior of the workshop visible through the window right next to the door.

Then the handle turns, opening the door to reveal a short, white-haired form with a pair of ears rising up above a protective face-plate styled like a festival wolf mask. "Sorry about that," comes a feminine voice that vaguely rings a bell with some of Ashigara's braincells that weren't pickled beyond recognition by alcohol the previous night. "We're a bit short on staff this morning, thanks to last.... night's....."

Flicking up her mask to reveal a face covered in a combination of soot, and some unfortunately not entirely removed doodles and juvenile designs, the blacksmith then rubs her eyes and blinks. Then she fails to hide a wince as if remembering something. "Oh, it's you guys. Is this about my employees, the coins, or the commission? Because I'm not responsible for what they do or make on their time off, especially while drunk, I can refund the coins if you really want, and I haven't actually gotten a start on the commission due to some..... repairs I need to do after last night."

Ashigara sags in relief. "Oh thank god."

"I'm sorry?" asks the swordsmith with a confused blink, causing Ashigara to flush in embarrassment.

"Ah, sorry, it's just that..... well, I kind of gave you all of my clothes."

"Ah..." offers the blacksmith lamely. "You told me you had more, and that you could also regain your outfit over time."

"Yeah. At home, and in a repair bath or with time I don't have until I have to go back to work."

"Oh." Awkwardly, the blacksmith rubs at the back of her neck. "I suppose now's a bad time to explain then, that by "not started on the commission", what I meant was that I hadn't started on making the actual blade."

Ashigara feels a thrill of embarrassment and horror. "You mean...."

"I may have already magically converted most of your outfit into composites and ingots."

"NOOOOOOO!!!!!"
-------------------------------

Upon seeing that the window to the modern room isn't just an illusion when the blacksmith punches a code on the security pad, and then reopens the door to reveal the muggle workspace that matches what they see through the window, Iowa laughs.

"It's just like Howl's Moving Castle!"

Upon retrieving a bottle of oil from a nearby bench, the okami blacksmith, or Sakiko as she (re)introduces herself, just laughs. "You have no idea how much I hear that from the kids these days," she admits as she closes the door, and enters a different security code this time, causing the lights and the glow through he frosted glass to change once more.

Entry into the magical smithy is something that makes more than a few of the hungover heads int heir group spin. Despite the window right next to the security door showing a magical workshop, what the security door itself leads into, seems like almost an entirely different part of the building. It's obviously still the same modern structure judging by the walls and floor, but instead of being filled with modern heavy machinery and tools, it is a strange blend of both a traditional, medieval style workplace, and some creature comforts and amenities of the 21st century. It's enough to make their heads spin.

Almost too much so in Shokaku's case, as she ends up looking awfully green for a moment, much to Zuikaku's panic.

Sakiko looks on with something between both legitimate concern and and amused schadenfreude. "Yeesh, you guys must have had one hell of a night after you left yesterday. To think I thought you guys were already buzzing pretty hard when you got here."

Ashigara shifts awkwardly, considering that was probably pretty obvious what with the whole, 'trading all her clothes for a sword thing'.

"We were?"

Catching the uncertainty in the heavy cruiser's voice, the swordsmith raises an eyebrow as she fishes around in a nearby set of draws for a clean rag. "Wait, you guys don't remember what happened yesterday?"

"Not since the Golden Ofuda." admits Jun'yo with a wince.

Sakiko actually manages to look mildly impressed. "I don't know what exactly to tell you guys. I missed half of it myself. All of you showed up here three sheets to the wind with about a dozen different Muramasa blades and assorted yokai, got all of my apprentices and workers so smashed they couldn't actually turn up for work today, and then proceeded to leave a zig-zag a trail a mile wide between almost all of the bars in town."

The Okami then gives an entertained grin and points at Shokaku. "I don't know what you did, and no one's saying anything, but apparently they're talking of having a vote about whether or not to ban you in particular, from all the local bars for a year." Zuikaku blinks in disbelief at the absurd notion of her sister doing anything at all to warrant that kind of response, and opens her mouth to retort in Shokaku's defence.

Unfortunately, she is then cut off by the unluckier crane choosing that moment to moan miserably, cradling her head in her hands. "I was hoping I imagined that happening....."

Still looking bemused, the swordsmith then glances at Ashigara. "You meanwhile, were apparently such a hit, people were blowing up Kogamaru-sama's phone for most of all last night, asking him to adopt you into the clan."

"What?!?!"

The real Okami snickers and points at the beret that has shifted with her jump of shock and mortification, giving a entertained glance at the ears that were hidden beneath. "Although I see you've already made a start on the process."

Ashigara whines, causing her ears to droop. "I don't even remember this happening....."

Sakiko chuckles. "Well how about this as a consolation prize. I'll show you what I've got so far, and also what I have planned."

Out of curiosity, Ashigara follows after, tailing the swordsmith as she leads the group right into the back of the shop where most of the furnaces, power hammers and anvils appear to be. As they round one of the largest piece of modern equipment however, the heavy cruiser freezes, with many of the others doing the same when they see what she is looking at. Iowa's reaction, generally summarizes the silent thoughts of all the others.

"Oh my god?! Are you okay?!?"

Lazily sitting and standing around one of the larger anvils in the middle of the work space are a group of women, ranging in looks from their late teens to early middle age. All of them have weapons at their hips or slung across their back; Swords of various sizes and types, along with a dagger and even a spear, making for a general overview of common 16th century Japanese bladed weapon types.

Most shockingly of all however, is the girl in the middle of the group, holding a badly bent odachi in her lap, and with her own back bent to the left in a way that places her spine at an impossible right angle, partway through the small of her back. Spotting the newcomers, the girl goes teary eyed and emotional.

"I-It's you guys! Y-You did remember me! When you left me like th-this, I was so sc-scared that-"

For a moment, Ashigara and the other feels a mounting sense of horror and dread at the sword spirit's words.

Then the Su Yari among the group grabs the odachi by her ear, in spite of her condition, causing the kanmusu to stare in disbelief.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Umitsubame!!!!" She whines, suddenly sounding a lot less emotional, and simultaneously older, yet younger and brattier at the same time.

The Su Yari however, has no remorse for the 'injured' blade, whom she scolds like a delinquent. "No Norimune! That is just mean! Especially when they probably don't remember last night!"

"But that was Akutoku's fault! She egged on Kyoshu!"

"I did what now?" asks one of the Katanas in confusion, breaking her out of her previous reprieve of slowly looking around uncertainly, as if unsure how she arrived in the workshop.

Meanwhile, the katana Ashigara vaguely recognizes as one of the primary instigators of the party in the aftermath of the Nine Clan Heads challenge the previous day, now points back at her bent counterpart with sisterly incensed betrayal. "You started it as well! I thought the plan was to get the chefs drunk so Suisei could learn their recipes."

Immediately, the tanto of the group holds up her hands in placating surrender, looking at the Su Yari worriedly. "Hey, I had no clue that was what they were up to sis! I think I said I wanted to pick the chefs brain, but I didn't mean for them to start a bar crawl to do so!!!"

"At least it was fun, right guys!?" offers another of the katanas, grinning happily. Vaguely, Ashigara recalls seeing the particular blade by this girl's side, duct taped to a ceiling fan when she arrived back at the hotel earlier that morning.

"That's not the point Kagotsuruhe!" counters the tanto among the collection.

Akutoku however, obviously seems to beg to differ.

"Oh, don't be such a stick in the mud Ishizuki! You need to get out more!" Suddenly, the katana's face lights up. "Oh! That gives me an idea!"

Abruptly producing a sketch pad from nowhere, the katana procures a pen and begins rapidly sketching out something on the page, giving a lurid giggle. At least right up until the Su Yari darts out with her free hand and grabs Akutoku by the ear as well.

"Ow!Ow!Ow!OW! Big-Sis Umitsubame!!!!"

Seeing the stunned faces on her latest, ship-based visitors, Sakiko laughs. "That's the Muramasa blades for you. Just give me a few minutes to fix Norimune, and I can show you what I've got so far for your commission."

Ashigara eyes the odachi girl, and not just because her current state should technically mean permanent paralysis, if not outright death for a normal human.

"You can fix that is just a few minutes?" Ashigara asks in disbelief, looking at the odachi with it's right angle bend in the girl's lap.

"It helps that magic lets me cheat a fair bit, compared to the kind of risky lengths a muggle repair might entail" admits Sakiko with a laugh. "Although it also helps that Muramasas were often forged to be surprisingly easy to fix, on top of their durability, if not outright enchanted with their own self-repairing properties. They're a surprisingly tough and adaptable lot. Why do you think so many of the lesser blades were successfully rebranded or disguised after they fell out of favor?"

Even as the swordsmith elaborates, Ashigara watches as in spite of Norimune's injury, and Umitsubame holding both of them by their ears, the Su Yari has to suddenly switch from stopping them escaping, to holding them apart as some exchange between the two sister swords then results in a surprisingly childish slap-fight of all things.

"Let me go you dendrophile! I'll 1-v-1 her!"

"What are you gonna do?! Throw yourself like a boomerang!"

"Up yours!"

"Screw you!"

"At least I have options beyond otaku!"

"Hey! I'm not the one with too much hocho-tetsu in her forging!"

"Fuck you!"

As the back and forth continues, the kanmusu can only watch with varying degrees of bafflement. These are the legendary and feared surviving Muramasa blades?

"....huh." Ashigara eloquently observes.
-------------------------------

"So...... this is what happened to your clothes."

Placing a number of ingots of steel, and a few other assorted odds and ends on the anvil, Ashigara sighs. To the average person, it doesn't look like much, but the Heavy Cruiser recognizes the material. The steel is of the same kind used in certain parts of her superstructure. More that that though, are parts that aren't steel. The majority of this small handful of extra material is bronze and copper that seems to have been drawn from various minor fittings, but there is even a small amount of cloth, thread, and leather from various fairy crew supplies, normally used for repairing personal gear. Interestingly, there are even a few scraps of signal flags laying about.

Looking over what was once her uniform clothes however, all Ashigara can do is groan in mortified embarrassment. This is going to take some explaining when she finally gets back to base. She doesn't even have any of her undergarments left.

"Talk about trading the shirt off your back," the heavy cruiser mutters to herself, causing Sakiko to chuckle in awkward chagrin.

"Sorry about that. In retrospect, I probably should have thought a bit harder about the fact that you were literally giving me everything you had on you, because you wanted a sword as soon as possible. Unfortunately, your group and the swords had already gotten me and all my aides so hammered by the time we were done with the challenge coins, that it wasn't all that hard to get me won over by the idea of the project. I kinda spent the rest of the night alchemically re-synthesizing all this stuff, and didn't even realize everyone took off until hours later."

Pausing for a moment, Ashigara looks at Sakiko in curious disbelief. "What part about making a sword out of clothes is an interesting idea?"

The okami swordsmith grins, picking up one of the ingots on the table for emphasis. "I think it would be easier to list what parts about it didn't interest me. Any fool can make a plain old sword, and then slap a bunch of enchantments on it, regardless of whether you use the traditional methods, or modern power tools to forge and shape the blade. To be honest, when you get to my age, at my level of mastery of the craft, the proper way gets boring. Any industrialized workforce or stamping die can churn out the same perfect sword a thousand times. What I'm interested in, are things like what my fore-masters built. That one blade. Something that pushes the boundaries, deserving a reputation of being legendary, rather than just another magic blade."

Carefully, Sakiko adds the ingot back to the pile, gaze drifting off fondly. "Working with non-related and meta-physical materials, to ascribe their natures and contexts into raw components that will retain their thematic essence and powers through to the final product, is an art almost lost in this day and age. I think my master could count all his examples of such works on one hand. The only such blade I myself have ever worked on before, was the final blade I forged under his tutelage, to become his successor of the Ken-gitsune Master-Apprentice line." The okami then turns to Ashigara, a carefully nurtured joy and interest shining in the tempered gaze of the master, offering a glimpse of the fascinated child who must have once been drawn to her current occupation.

Ashigara looks at the okami in surprise. "Are they really that rare?"

"Sort of," explains the she-wolf. "Weapons forged from initially odd, strange sounding, or even completely unrelated materials isn't exactly unheard of. Sure, there are those who can replicate such things, but many of the original methodologies and unbroken chains of learning dating back to the time of gods and their messengers is now almost extinct. And more than that, there is something else that many modern examples lack."

"What's that?"

"Purpose."

Ashigara raises an eyebrow, while the okami grins gleefully and explains.

"There's often a trifecta of factors to truly legendary blades. Something that adds to their natures, beyond just what their made of, or who they were forged and enchanted by. The Kusanagi is more than just ancient sword. The infamous Juuchi Yosamu is more than just a very sharp blade. The Shisashikon is more than just a enchanted katana.

The Kusanagi was drawn from the tail of the Orochi, and has been the sword of valor and part of the Imperial Regalia since the time of Emperor Keiko. Juuchi Yosamu is often regarded as the pinnacle of Muramasa's work, and the ultimate exemplar of the dichotomy between his and Masmune's blades, regardless of the ills his blades bore and were known for. And the Shisashikon.... The Shisashikon is a mark of virtue, a living history that declares the values of the clan and an aesop for future clan heads to remember every time they wield it, on top of having a mirrored synergy to the regalia from a time when it was once owned by Amaterasu and our forgotten ancestors served her."

"What does this have to do with me?" Asks Ashigara in confusion, only for Sakiko to begin counting off fingers.

"Well, you're technically a minor kami of a sorts. You want to give a blade to your human lover." Ashigara blushes slightly at the blunt description. "And more than that, you have not only offered pieces of yourself to do so. But you also stumbled across me, entirely by accident, during a side quest of sorts, after a great trial by two of your fellows!"

".... um... that's kind of embellishing things a bit...."

The okami swordsmith looks rapt with glee. "Tell me what the chances are, that on a drunken lark, of all the people to commission a sword from, you picked one of the only people in all of Hokkaido, who's line of teaching is unbrokenly descended from that of a servant of Inari?"

Ashigara is silent for a moment, considering things. "So... what, it was fate that I run into you or something? Fate that I lost all my clothes doing this?"

Sakiko shrugs. "Who knows? Maybe? Maybe not? Life and luck are sometimes mysteriously fitting and ultimately random in equal measure like that."

The heavy cruiser hangs her head. "Well, at least Yonehara's going to get a great sword out of the deal.... I just wish it wasn't right before Haruana and Rose's wedding, so he could wear it for that. It would also be something to show for losing my clothes too."

"Wait, a wedding?" The okami tilts her head curiously. "You didn't mention that you were on a time limit?"

Ashigara shrugs. "Maybe I just forgot to mention it last night? I was rather drunk. And it's not like you can just "magic up" a legendary sword, even with actual magic."

Sakiko is curiously silent for a moment. "You know.... that's only from.... a certain point of view you could say...."

The heavy cruiser pauses, frowns, and then looks at the master swordsmith in confusion. "You don't mean...?"

The wolf gives very wolfish grin. "I think I might have an idea.... but I'm going to need your help, plus someone eles.... And I think I have just the blade in mind to make this work."

"Blade?"

"How was it you described this lover of yours last night?" Sakiko grins. "I believe it was, "like a demon with a blade in his hand, but always perfect and in control"? I can't think of a more fitting blade for a swordsman with such an unrelenting but tempered presence, than one where the tempering was aided by a blade-spirit who's line is only truly mastered by wielders of restraint and balance."
-------------------------------
Ashigara quietly looks over the Su Yari known as Umitsubame, vaguely recalling the spear-woman from last night on a few occasions. Notably, she was usually trying to reign in the other blades, and complaining that someone by the name of Chisuheri wasn't there to help.

Appearing to all intents and purposes, be one of the few the voices of reason within the group, at least quells Ashigara's uncertainties about this plan somewhat. The other blades however....

"This Yonehara sounds so cool!!!" gushes Akutoku, for a moment almost sounding like an enamored young woman with mixed amazement and good natured jealousy for another's catch. "Imagine the kind of chaos one could cause in the hands of someone with that much trust and power?" Or not...

"How long would that resolve last!? Oh, I wonder what assets he has at his disposal. If you have the resources to fight of an abyssal fleet, you could work towards fixing world hunger! Oh, there could be SO much death...."

As Akutoku looks enraptured at the thought alone of the destruction that could be wreaked. Jun'yo looks disturbed, while Iowa blinks owlishly. "Solve world hunger?"

Suisei facepalms as if this is something the group has heard often enough that she immediately knows what it is. "Can't have world hunger if there aren't any hungry people alive to be hungry," mutters the tanto.

Norimune, both spine and sword now straight, looks contemplative, but still disbelieving. "The day I see somebody resist Akutoku-induced sanity slippage, is the day I eat my menuki."

"I do not cause sanity slippage!" retorts the smaller katana, and actually looking mildly affronted. "People just always seem to take a while, before they realize I'm right about a lot of things."

Thankfully, the Su Yari chooses the moment to speak up, forestalling another impending sisterly argument.

"I'd be more than happy to help," says the Waterwitch Blade with a happy smile. "To see such a blade born of love, produced for a swordsman of such described caliber, would be an honor on my part."

"Great!" exclaims Sakiko excitedly, before looking at the rest of the group and then point at the door back to the reception. "Now the rest of you get out of my workshop, we'll need room to work."

Realizing they plan to produce the blade now, Akagi's eyes widen in disbelief as she looks at Ashigara. "Wait, you're doing this now?"

Tail swishing slightly with nerves and embarrassment, Ashigara nods. "Well, I want to at least go back home with something after losing all my clothes. I don't want a repeat of the poker tournament that Harry and Yukikaze hijacked."

"But swords take days, if not weeks to make!"

"Apparently magic offers a lot of shortcuts of sorts? Also, Sakiko seems to have some sort of plan...."

Glancing to the side, she then watches at the okami takes a number of pieces of chalk and magically guides them along the ground, dividing the room into a number of squared off sectors, with 'corridors' of sorts dividing each of them.

Still looking somewhat dubious, Jun'yo finally relents, and moves to joining the rest of the group leaving the workshop. "Well alright then. She seems to know what she's doing, so good luck."

Watching as the carrier is the last to leave and the door swings shut behind her, Sakiko finally finishes drawing her lines, while Umitsubame seems to consider something for a moment, before nodding agreeably with the thought.

"The three faces... How fitting."

Dusting off her hands, Sakiko looks mildly perturbed by the spear's words. "I am not the crone", she declares emphatically. "You're the one that has four hundred years on me."

Ashigara meanwhile, looks between the two in confusion. "The three faces?"

"The Three Faces or Sisters of Hecate," elaborates the Su Yari with a kind smile, while Sakiko begins fishing inside her pockets for something. "A modern invention and more often an inaccurately projected theme really, but one not without a foundation of sorts. There's a common image in many cultures and legends of three women, often working together or sharing portions of a similar purpose, domain or goal. The Three Fates. The three Norns. The three daughters of Ernmas. The Damosels. The Maiden, Mother and Crone of the Wicca. And of course, the aforementioned Hecate, with her shared domain of the moon with Artemis and Selene."

"Three is also a particularly powerful magical number in most cultures," adds in Sakiko as she finds what she is looking for, and begins drawing out a strangely long golden chain. "It is also, a particularly special one for the Hokubu. Three gifts for Shoumaru. Three clans united in alliance, forming the basis for Yamainutaira's founding. A three towered fortress on a triple peaked hill."

A thought then occurs to her, making the swordsmith grin. "We are also in the reign of the Ninth Koshaku of the Hokubu Okami. Three times three." Chuckling at the thought, Sakiko then drape the long chain over Ashigara and Umitsubame's necks, causing the heavy cruiser to look at the wolf in confusion as she closes the magically extended necklace, like some sort of strange group scarf.

"You ever used a time turner before?" Ashigara shakes her head, causing Sakiko to grin. "Okay then, so the first thing to know is that you should never, ever use them like how we're about to."

"What?"

"The second rule, is stay inside the chalk lines at all times. Trust me, you don't want to accidentally leave a square, knock into somebody, and then cause a time paradox."

"What!"

"And lastly," says the master swordsmith with a grin. "Try not to look at the versions of us in the other squares. You can't cause a time paradox, if you don't know what infomation to act on, unintentionally or not."

"Wait, us?"

Abruptly, the workshop around them bursts into life. Life that looks very familiar. "Okay, that's time marked and sychronized," declares the wolf as she begins returning the golden necklace and it's hourglass shaped bauble to her pocket.

Ashigara stares at the dozen copies of them working at different stations and stages of blade construction around the workshop in amazed disbelief. Then she immediately averts her eyes, remembering the swordsmith' swords about unintentional time paradoxes just from seeing things.

Sakiko laughs as she begins to collect the ingots of steel off the anvil, while the small orbs of fire begin to circulate in the air around her. "You paid attention, awesome. Now let's forge us a blade!"

Grabbing the darker and harder of the two ingots that will eventually form the edge of the blade, the forge bursts to life with a blast of flame that back lights the swordsmith. Twirling a pair of hammers in her hand, Sakiko then passes one of them to Ashigara, while Umitsubame seems to come to an unspoken agreement with the okami, and turns her attention to the non-metallic materials on the table.

Looking at the hammer in her hand however, the Hungry Wolf looks to the smith-wolf with some trepidation. "I'm familiar with the basic gist of repairing ships, but I've never actually made anything like a sword before."

The okami just grins. "That's fine, I'm not going to be having you doing anything too delicate or tricky, and I'll be guiding you through what you will actually be able to massively help speed up, while still technically following the essence of the traditional method. The main thing I need you to do though, is think of your lover."

Ashigara blushes slightly. "Do you need to keep on being so blunt about it?"

Sakiko ignores her and continues with a chuckle. "Every step of the way, whether you are actively striking metal or not, I want you to think of the man you are doing this for. I want you to put every tender moment you can think of, into every hammer blow. I want you to feel the heat of his breath, rather than the blast of the furnace when we're taking the billet in and out. When I say I want you to put everything into this, I mean it. The good and the bad. When we get to the real tedious work and you wonder why the hell you decided to do this, I want you to remember all the things that irk you about this Yonehara as well, and why he is more than his flaws in the end, just as this sword will be irksome and flawed at first as well. Just as this sword shall be a union of hagane and kawahagane, love is the sum of it's parts, and more than just idealisation or desire. Can you do that for me?"

Already beginning to feel the heat in the room climb, Ashigara nods and considers the swordsmith's words.

She thinks of Yonehara, and the first time the met.

She thinks of all the times he's made her smile.

All the jokes, the sillness they seen, the shenanigans they have been caught up in together, and sometimes even instigated themselves.

She thinks of the frustration and anger from all the times she failed to beat him in kendo matches, way back in their early days as almost-rivals-but-still-definitely-friends.

His praise upon her finally beating him for once.

A future they both wish for once peace should finally come.

Three words, that never fail to set her heart aflutter.

"Are you ready?" she hears Sakiko ask. Opening her eyes, to her surprise, Ashigara finds a red hot ingot already being drawn from the forge, and set on the anvil in front of her.

Raising her hammer in preparation, she grins. "Yes."

"Good."

The swordsmith returns her expression with gleeful gusto, placing a forging die and Ashigara's first target for her hammer, atop where the okami wants to make the first fold of the ingot. Around the two, streamers of magic begin to circulate and flow, creating a ripple of more than just heat around the glowing steel on the anvil between them.

"BEGIN!"

 

[darthcourt10]

Snippet 26: S0ngD0g13

The Weasleys had just settled into their hotel rooms when the sound of feathers rustling and a sharp kek-kek sound came from the window-ledge. Fred opened the window and promptly had Gosling sitting on his shoulder, nibbling his ear. "Mercy, Gosling, you've grown since I saw you last; it feels like you put on a couple pou- OW!" He squawked in pain when the goshawk tightened her grip and dug her talons into his shoulder.

Ginny laughed and took the hawk. "Serves you right, Fred, commenting on a lady's weight." She set Gosling on a chair-back and took the letter tied to her chest. Ginny unfolded the letter and noticed a Fairy in IJN pilot's uniform sitting in a silk harness on Gosling's back, quietly snoring, before turning her attention back to the missive.

"Fred, go get Mum; the latter's for all of us." When her brother had fetched Molly and the others, Ginny handed her mother the letter. "From Kaylee and her aunt and uncle, Mum."

Ginny,

I heard you and you family were hereabouts for the wedding, and since we hadn't seen each other since I came back from Scotland, I'd like to invite you and your kin to supper tonight at my aunt and uncle's house in Kure, and a cookout the day after the wedding, at my place out on Spider Island. Uncle James is making some good home-cookin', Red.

Our address is 3189 Kinser Street, JMSDF Kure, Hiroshima Prefecture. Hope to see you soon.

Kaylee

P.S.,

If the person reading this is NOT Ginny Weasley or family of same, please:

-Refold the letter
-Tie it back to the bird
-If he is asleep, wake up the Fairy riding said bird
-Tell said Fairy, one Gunner's Mate Olhausen, that he has yet again gone to the wrong address and that I am not amused
-Send the bird on her way, and forget you ever read this. Or not; your choice. Might make a funny story to tell at the bar later

Thank you kindly,

Kaylee V. McAmis, Lt. USNR (Shipgirl)

 

[darthcourt10]

SoulessScotsman

A/N: Second bit, now that I'm home from work.
------------------------------------------
The Fae smiled brightly, setting her tea on the coffee table, "Ah! The man of the hour finally arrives."

The Trooper tensed. Ranger and Massachusetts glared harder.

The Fae stood, still smiling, and clasped her hands before her, "I am Aurora, Lady of the Summer Court. I have come to have words with you, Nephew."

Anderson stood there for a moment, the last few days replaying in his mind.

He coughed, "I'd offer tea, but you seem to have that covered, er, Your Highness?"

The Fae giggled, "Aurora will do, if I in turn may call you William. And your daughter already offered," she sat again, Anderson doing the same in the chair across from her, "She was quite polite, despite her panic. But it would be remiss of me to ask for something like tea when you had no idea I was coming, especially when it costs me little to provide my own."

"I...appreciate the gesture," Anderson replied, unsure how to respond.

"Her name is Corvina, yes?" she hummed when he nodded, "But not of your blood. Adopted, I believe?"

"Parents died in Blood Week. She'd been hopping foster homes until she manifested and her foster parents dumped her here. Connie did not take kindly to that. One thing lead to another, and she got attached," he shrugged, "Never thought I was parent material, but, well. Here I am."

"Cora was much the same," Aurora nodded, smiling fondly, "When she found out she was pregnant with you and Raven, she was equal parts ecstatic and terrified. To be fair, so were we. Changelings are supposed to be sterile until they Choose. Or at the very least, highly infertile."

"You called me 'nephew'," Anderson began.

"I did. Cora was my half sister by way of our mother. Your grandfather was...well. Mother hasn't quite recovered from his death. He was a good man. And to pre-empt your next question, yes, that would make your grandmother Titania, Queen of the Summer Court."

The sound of grinding steel met that declaration, followed by a resounding clang. Anderson whirled to the source.

He blinked, "Massachusetts?"

The shipgirl in question had slammed her palm into her forehead while grinding her bared teeth. Ranger, on the other hand, looked like she had just won the lottery.

Realization dawned and Anderson groaned, burying his face in his hands, "You had a betting pool on my ancestry? What the hell?"

Before Ranger could begin crowing about her winnings, a withering glare from Massachusetts shut her up.

"One word, Ranger," she growled, "One word."

Aurora rolled her eyes, and when she spoke, her tone was dry, "I see the Navy never changes. Truly, you are the pride and joy of your nation."

"Tell me about it," the Trooper groused, "I can't tell you how many stills I've had to dismantle. I even had to get rid of all my alcohol when I adopted Corvina. The other subs kept trying to either steal it or drink it. I had to give Connie my stash of mead and dump the rest."

Ranger wiped a tear from her eye, "What a waste."

"Cram it, you rusty, old tub," he snapped.

The Fae snorted, "Well, if nothing else, you have your mother's sense of humor. However, if we could get this conversation back to the matters at hand?"

Anderson straightened in his seat and nodded, "My apologies. You were saying?"

"Recent events, Blood Week for example, have proven that the status quo is changing. Certain practices that the Courts have kept over the years would, without doubt, doom us if we continued them. One of them is our treatment of Mortals and Changelings."

Two Shipgirls and one Trooper stared dumbfounded at her.

"Some tales of us are true. Some are exagerated. Some are false. But the vast majority do not speak kindly of us. So I understand if you take everything I say as some complicated lie. But times are changing. And so too, miraculously, do we. Things that we were barred from, that we dearly wished we could do, become possible for the first time in our long memories," Aurora smiled warmly, "Mother has not seen you since you were a child. She would like to visit her only grandson, if you are amicable to the idea. Lady Constitutuion and the Maines may be present, if that would set you at ease."

For a long moment, all was silent.

Aurora leaned forward and and clasped Anderson's hands in her own, causing him to jolt.

"William, I cannot lie. No Fae can, be they Summer, Winter or Wyld. So know that my next words are only truth; no harm will befall you or yours should you refuse. No misfortune. No retribution of any kind. We would understand if you wish nothing to do with us. I only ask that you consider it."

Anderson licked suddenly dry lips, "How...How long do I have to...consider...this generous offer?"

"As long as you need. When you reach a decision, you need only speak my name thrice, and I will come," she stood, and he moved to do the same. Aurora smiled again, stepping in front of him to place her hand on his cheek, "When last I was permitted to see you, you were barely four years old. You were such a cute boy, hiding behind Cora's skirt with Raven. It seems like yesterday you both were running around calling my 'Aunty 'Rora'. Now look at you. A man, full grown and with a daughter of his own. My, but you look like your father," she chuckled, "Taller, certainly. But so very like him."

Aurora took a step back, "Your father said something to me, the first and last time we met; 'Nothing is forever.' Were he here, he would find great amusement in his vindication. We come ever closer to a great change, William. And though like all change there will be difficulties, I feel the world will be better for it."

She closed her eyes and laid a hand on her cheek, "But I ramble. Goodnight, William, Ladies. I must return home, now."

And she was gone, leaving silence in her wake.

Until a snort broke the silence.

"She talked a whole lot, but said relatively little. Besides the whole wanting to mend family ties thing," Massachusetts grunted.

"That's the Sídhe for you," Ranger shrugged, "I'm not the only one that heard her tacitly admit that the Courts would be in deep shit if they didn't begin to play nice, right?"

"Not in so many words, no. But I heard the implication."

"...So, how long before POTUS signs a bill to join the Accords?"

"Never, hopefully," Anderson put in, "The Accords are archaic and depend on the Statute to be effective. It would have to be torn down and rebuilt for any of the more savvy nations to even consider it, let alone Congress," he rolled his eyes at their incredulous looks, "I did my homework on it. Graves said it was important, and after that shitshow two weeks ago I wasn't going to let anything blindside me."

Massachusetts pushed off from his counter and made for the door, "I'll get on briefing Connie and the Admiral. Ranger, give the Marines the all clear so they can disperse. I'm sure they have more important things to do. Get some sleep, Crowe. You're gonna need it."

Ranger clapped him on the shoulder as she walked by, "Hey, next time we go to a bar, your drinks are on me! Hell, the next five times are on me! 'Night, Crowe!"

When his door closed for the last time that night, Anderson shook his head.

"I don't want to know how big the pool was, do I?" he asked empty air. Sighing one last time, he headed upstairs. Maybe if he was lucky, this was all some fever dream from overworking himself.
------------------------------------------------------
A/N: This may undergo some edits when I get my laptop back. Or I may decide to throw it out. I dunno yet. In the mean time, this was once again from my old-as-dirt iPad.

A/N the Second: So, I'm trying to keep a little vague on the Courts for the moment, so that I have a little breathing room. In the mean time, I'll be loosely basing them off of Dresden. Kinda. But only superficially. And until I get word from on high, be it a decision from Leferts or otherwise, the Courts are dangerous, but I'm going to take pains to be vague about how dangerous. And hopefully I won't do all that much with them after two or three more bits.

 

[darthcourt10]

Harry Leferts

Rubbing the side of his head, Taichi was about to dig into his breakfast when his phone buzzed with an incoming message. An event that caused him to freeze before his eyes slowly made their way to where his phone sat. While that was happening, a blush appeared on the Kitsune's cheeks and made it's way down his neck as he fought with himself. For mainly one reason... He remembered, extremely clearly, some of the messages sent to his phone the night before.

Messages that were stuck in his all night and followed him into his dreams.

Of course, his inner debate was interrupted as real life interfered by the simple way of his mother clearing his throat. "Taichi-Kun? I think that you have a message."

Weakly grinning and chuckling, the eighteen year old Kitsune nodded. "Um, yeah, guess that I do. But I'll wait until after breakfast to have a look. Don't want to be rude after all! Just like you taught me."

Unfortunately for him, doing that with his family gathered there did not have the effect that he had wanted. Rather, it was like throwing in blood into the water filled with sharks. Along with a injured, flailing seal.

And the sharks were all Great Whites, as in the ones from the Jaws movies.

Each of the Kitsune, nearly as one turned to Taichi, whose ears drooped as he realized the mistake that he had made in his panic. Smiling in a way that while they did not show any, was all teeth, Sakuya had a twinkle in her eyes. "Well, I am willing to ignore that just this once, Taichi-Kun. And it would be rude to ignore the message and not reply to it after all."

Looking around, the nearly graduated Kitsune internally whimpered as he saw the looks and grins. This? This was going to be painful, he just knew it. With a sigh, Taichi gathered his courage and pulled out his phone to see that as he had thought, the message was from Akagi. However, this time it was not any of the... lurid bits. Instead, it was apology after apology. "Um, it's just Akagi-San stating that she wants to talk with me. That's all-"

Before he could get much further though, Natsumi yanked the phone from his hands. "Oh? Well then I doubt that you would mind me reading-" Dodging one of his swipes, she looked down and froze. "Oh... oh wow..." Her eyes widening as she scrolled through them, Natsumi's eyebrows rose higher and higher. "Bloody hell..." Just as he was about to finally get it, the thirteen year old tossed the phone to her mother. "You might want to see that, Haha-ue."

Easily catching the phone, Sakuya looked at what was on it while Haru and Kensuke looked over either one of her shoulders. "Oh my~"

Turning, Taichi gave his sister a look that easily communicated the question on his mind. 'Why? Why did you do this?'

In return, Natsumi gave him a look back that included a raised eyebrow along with a similar silent communication. One that every sibling seemed to develop at some time or another. 'This is for all the teasing you gave me. Also, better you then me and this will distract them for some time with teasing.'

Kensuke then lowered his glasses some as he looked at one message and then at Taichi with a somewhat impressed look. "I have to say Sochi... Never did I expect for you to have a message which had the words 'Wish that you were here frolicking between the peaks of Mount Akagi' in this manner."

Beside him, Haru gave a nod as her smile became predatory. "Or for you to tame the Province of Kaga. I am impressed." Then she shrugged. "But you are eighteen, just remember to, ah, wear armor."

Groaning, Taichi sat down into a chair. "Kill me?"

All three adult Kitsune seemed extremely amused with Sakuya glancing down at the messages. "No, not yet. Perhaps later though." Shaking her head, she snorted. "Akagi-San must have been extremely drunk last night."

Snickers made them turn to where Natsumi was checking something on her own phone. "Um, that's one way of putting it. There's already a thread up on whatever happened on SGO." Blinking, her eyebrows raised upwards. "Okay, I've been around shipgirls for years and I am surprised at what I am reading. Wonder if Harry-Chan has found it yet?"

Meanwhile, the boy in question was walking alongside the Weasleys as he showed them Battleship Park. He was currently waiting as Molly had a picture of them all taken with Mikasa's steel hull behind them. In the distance, Sarushima could also be seen. "Oh boy..."

Picture having been taken, Ron noticed Harry wincing and walked over. "Something wrong, Mate? Because you seem... off."

With a deep breath, Harry sighed. "That is one way of putting it. Just... give me a second." Rapidly dialing, the wizard brought his phone to his ear and waited until it connected. "Ooyodo-Oba? It's Harry. Yes, that one, the one in the base phone book. You're never going to be dropping that joke, are you? Right, anyways I got a question for you... Do you know where Akagi-Oba is? Along with Kaga-Oba, Iowa, and some of the others?"

There was a silence on the other end of the line before a sigh could be heard. ""Yes, Akagi as well as Kaga, Zuikaku, Shoukaku, and some of the others went up to Hokkaido for the weekend. I believe that they went up as Akagi wanted to try some eating competition. The others went along with them..." Yet again, there was silence before Ooyodo groaned. "Oh Kami, what happened? Ashigara was supposed to run herd on them all."

Needless to say, that got a sort from Harry. "Right, run herd on them. That worked out just fine."

At the groan, Harry winced a bit. It was obvious that Ooyodo was already getting a headache and it was still early in the day. "How big of a problem is it and how much coffee am I going to need to deal with it?"

Humming as he looked out onto the sea, Harry tilted his head first this way and then the other. "Well... three coffee I think. Your special coffee, that is." Quickly, he yanked the phone away from his ear due to the cursing and swearing that came through it. Once he thought it was safe, the wizard put it back. "It's not nearly that bad, Ooyodo-Oba. Far from the worst to be honest, though embarrassing for them. How do I know? Was checking SGO."

On the other end, Harry could hear the sound of something hitting a desk. "Oh Kami, I do not need this now with the wedding. How bad?"

Simply frowning, Harry gave it some more thought before shrugging. "Like I said, not that bad. Might need to hit them with a tempban though, not sure. But... you know how drunk posting is not allowed on SGO because of all the problems it's caused?"

Yet again, there was the sound of something banging on a table. "Oh, dammit. They were drunk?"

Tone drier then the Atacama, Harry nodded even though he knew that the Light Cruiser could not see it. "Hai, extremely so considering things. I would say that this rates about a four. Besides the pictures and video, which is embarrassing rather then stuff that would not be allowed, Akagi-Oba was shipping. Again."

It was almost as if he could hear the blink Ooyodo gave at that. "Shipping? Again?"

Harry gave a now at that. "Shipping." Frowning, he scratched his cheek in deep thought. "Not sure what the pictures mean but I think that it involves her and Kaga in kitsune costumes... and maybe blowing up Madagascar? Might be wrong and it's Mali again or perhaps Brazil? Definitely involves dressing up as Kitsune though I am not sure where they will get nine movable tails from. I mean, I've worn one before, so I can see that. But Kyuubi no Kitsune?"

Needless to say, there was silence for several moments before Ooyodo groaned. "It is too early for me to break out alcohol."

With a shrug, Harry snorted. "What is it that Shimada-Teitoku said? Alcohol is the cause and solution for all the problems with shipgirls?" Head tilted to the side, he heard Ooyodo grumble about other Admirals. "Anyways, I'll check again on things on my end. Make sure that there is nothing objectionable there not that I expect there to be. Though I got to say... I'm going to need to ask Ashigara-Oba where she got that neat Okami cosplay stuff. I really want it."

Utter confusion was coloring Ooyodo's voice. "Okami cosplay... you know what? I don't want to know. Just, just do whatever."

Hanging up, Harry gave a shrug to a group of very confused Weasleys, though Ron was facepalming while Percy looked worried. "Sorry about that. Just had some business to take care of... So, how about we head on over to the Shrine so that we can talk with Haru-San and stuff."

Still confused, Molly shared a look with Arthur and waited for him to nod before smiling at Harry. "That does sound good, Harry dear. Now let's go and see this Shrine place."

 

[darthcourt10]

Lord K

Ashigara could feel the heat. Even as a spirit of armor and the sea in human shape, she could feel the power of the magical furnace at work, every time they approached the grate to deposit or extract the steel they worked with. Flames fuelled by both charcoal and Sakiko's will, and managed with her masters touch, licked at the ingots they had slowly forged into a trio of billets through repeated cycles of heating and folding. Glowing white hot, to the degree that even her crew had trouble looking directly into the furnace at times, the metals that would form the nascent sword were already beginning to taking on the first vestiges of the full power they would eventually be imbibed with.

Sweat beaded on her brows, and not just from the heat. At Sakiko's careful direction, eveytime they extracted the billets, the Hungry Wolf would be the one to hammer the steel. With her mechanised strength putting 130,000 shaft horse power at her disposal, using an enchanted and reinforced hammer allowed her to put every single modern industrial tool in the workshop to shame, while still working over the steel in much the same way as would have been done centuries before. Each strike of the hammer would send sparks flying, but more importantly, every blow would also be backed by a memory of Yonehara that was close to her heart, just as Sakiko had asked of her.

By the time they were ready to laminate the billets together, the blade almost seemed to glow with more than heat. From where she has slowly progressed from working on the fabrics that will become the wraps of the blade, to some strange bubbling mixture in a cauldron she has procured, Umitsubame nods approvingly.

"This will be a good blade, I can tell already. Too many try to emulate the mindsets of the makers of old through the forging process for the wrong reasons, and produce the wrong results as a consequence. Even bloodlust akin to a Muramasa would be pointless without direction, or meaningless in the absence of purpose. Too few blades to survive the last few centuries, have been protectors, rather than shedders of blood and issuers of office or status." Completing her potion, The Su Yari then brings it over to Sakiko who begins substituting the thickly congealed green mixture for the clay normally used, in the final few cycles of shita-kitae.

"This part isn't actually necessary from a mundane stand point," admits Sakiko as they plaster a billet with straw and clay for yet another round in the forge. "Technically even your superstructure steel is of a decent enough purity that there's not much in the way of impurities to remove without industrial means."

"But this is also adding in something isn't it?" observes Ashigara as she watches the billet enter the fire once more.

"That's right." Says the okami. "Obviously there's the magic, but possibly even more important, is the intent and will behind it."

Upon finally achieving the desired number of layers in both billets, the master swordsmith then begins the next stage of creating the blade. Swapping her dies for a different set, Sakiko directs Ashigara's hammer blows into wedged points that slowly split the billets of Hagane and Kawagane into multiple slices, while the shigane is flattened into a more rectangular bar. Then the okami begins building up and layering the steel in a much more complicated way than anything she has seen anyone actually bother to do in the modern day, relying on its packaging of straw, potion, clay, and a few careful applications of magic to hold the laminate together, until it can be welded in the heat of the forge.

Apparently recognizing Sakiko's methods, Umitsubame looks on appraisingly. "It's been a long time since I last saw anyone use this particular technique for achieving a Soshu Kitae assembly in a blade."

"Well, Muramasa and Masamune blades are among the very best for a reason."

Impossibly, these final few cycles in the forge to completely weld together the multiple types of steel into one single homgenous laminate with various layers of hardness, are the hottest ones yet. At last though, Sakiko deems the blade to be at a state good enough to pass her muster, and it is time for them to move on to the next stage.

Or at least, that's what Ashigara thinks.

At some unsaid signal from the necklace beneath her shirt, Sakiko temporarily puts a halt to their progress. "Alright, time for our first jump." Across the workshop, Ashigara can't help but notice many of their other "doppelgangers" are also putting a pause to their various completed stages of work at the swordsmith's direction. Motioning for the Su Yari and the Kanmusu to gather around her, the Okami then steps into one of the smaller "corridor" squares dividing their current area from the next. Seeing that their doppelgangers with a more complete looking version of the sword are doing the same, Ashigara's attention is then distracted by the golden necklace that is then looped around the three like a gossamer golden chain.

"You ever seen that movie, The Time Machine?" asks the okami, causing the shipgirl to shake her head.

"No?"

"Ah.... well, just don't.... try not to touch anything, and don't break contact with the time-turner or the circle."

Ashigara's eyes widen, causing Umitsubame to chuckle. "Time turner?"

Abruptly, the swordsmith turns the hourglass within the center portion of it's gyroscope-like housing a number of times.

And then the world around them moves. Like some sort of video on rapid rewind, everything begins to flow and dart about in a reversing repetition of what she suddenly realizes has already been hours of work at the forge. For a moment, she stares at the image of herself, Sakiko and Umitsubame striking at burning hot blade, that slowly retreats with each strike back towards being a blocky laminated billet. A nudge from Umitsubame however, then makes her jerk with realization and follow the grinning Su Yari's example by averting her gaze toward the ceiling. If this really is some kind of time travel, and Sakiko's warning of paradoxes is true... well, she really would prefer not to add "messing up the universe" to her list of misadventures this weekend on top of everything else.

Finally, th world begins to seems to slow, and at the directions of the master swordsmith in charge, they step out of their "corridor" square, and into the next area of the workshop.

"Okay, that's time marked and synchronized."

With a start, Ashigara looks behind at the previous area they were just in, and discovers a different Ashigara momentarily looking at her in perplexed interest and confusion. Her other self seeming to remember something and then purposefully glancing away, as a copy of Sakiko begins starting up the forge and not!Umitsubame starts sorting through the non-metallic materials, a thought then strikes the real Hungry Wolf. Those are the past versions of them. And they are now one of the sets of dopplgangers she was looking at earlier. And so that group leaving to the next area of the workshop with a more complete form of the word, is going to be them in a couple of hours time when they have drawn out and quenched the billet they currently have. Which means the group in the next area after that is the billet drawing group, who have then looped back around to the start once again.

A laugh from Umitsubame makes her glance at the Muramasa spear, who seems entertained by her efforts to wrap her brain around her observations. "Welcome to time travel," she explains with a knowing grin.

At that moment, Sakiko then reappears, now with a trio of hammers that she passes around. Meanwhile, the billet of laminated steel now hovers in the air, nestled in one of the kitsune-bi esque flames that seems to circulate the blacksmith and aid her work. "Okay, now it's time to draw out and shape this puppy. We're going to be doing this the old fashioned way, but with a bit of modern power."

Placing the billet on a nearby anvil, Sakiko lightly taps at the billet with her shorter hammer, and elaborates for Ashigara's benefit. "Here's how we're going to do this. I'm going to be guiding you two in how I want this thing shaped. Wherever I hit, I want you to then follow after on the exact same spot. Importantly, you also need to try and hit at as close to the same angle as I do every time, especially with the amount of force you can put behind your blows. Umitsubame will follow after you, making any corrections that might be needed, and then it's back to me. All going well, we should flow like a rhythm."

"One, two, three, one, two, three?" asks Ashigara for confirmation, earning a nod from the swordsmith.

"That's right. Are you ready."

Raising her hammer, Ashigara nods.

"Alright then, let's go!"

With a loud clack and a sizzle of red-hot steel being impacted, Sakiko lays her first strike. Immediately, Ashigara follows up with her own hammer, the instant the okami's hammer hand is clear. With the forging process complete, there are no longer any sparks at this stage of working with the metal, but the ringing is barely fading when Umitsubame brings down her hammer in turn. With the grace of a dancer and master of polearms, Umitsubame is both rapid and fluid in her movements, that require barely a second of pause to asses the results of Ashigara's strikes each time, and thus what she must do in turn.

Round and round, the cycle goes, with the three soon flowing like a well oiled machine. And yet for Ashigara, the passage of time is barely noted.

She's a kanmusu. The strength and endurance to sail for days at a time, sometimes in high seas and storming gales, is a natural part of her nature, regardless of how hungover she was this morning. Some might say that miraculous recovery by a ships' crew the day after shore leave is also a generally inherited ability by some shipgirls.

More than anything though, it is the thought of Yonehara that makes the length and monotony of their task fly. 'Mark, strike, correct, mark strike, correct', is the unrelenting pattern of their work, which in itself is part of a larger cycle of draw, reheat, draw, reheat, and then draw again. But through it all, Ashigara keeps up with what Sakiko asked of her. Memories of Yonehara are with her with every blow she puts into the steel. Steel that slowly begins to take the shape of a sword under a constant exposure of emotion.

And not just love either. There is trust and fondness, warmth and tenderness, and even intimacy, but in a moment of almost self-reflective enlightenment Ashigara realizes she feels so much more as well. The joy of competitiveness. The exhilaration of a match together. The protectiveness they feel for each other in their own ways, and the trust and respect born of letting each other serve as the wish without worry, even as they do occasionally worry for each other occasionally. It is a multifaceted mix, that offers a picture greater for it's complexity, with even the rare darker edges serving to highlight the true power and peaks of her emotions.

Finally though, there comes a point when Sakiko breaks the pattern. This time, the okami does not mark the spot for the next strike. This time she does not raise her hammer, but actually sets it down entirely.

Taking a moment to inspect her work, the master swordsmith actually seems to find herself surprised to be nodding at her work. Flaws and without need of touch ups or correction, the orbiting fires at the okami's side seem to at last dim in intensity, while the blade quietly levitates into the air.

"Alright, time for the tsuchioki." she announces, as the blade begins cooling rather unnaturally quickly, but not so rapidly to cause issue or loose a decent amount of the heat it is still giving off.

Holding out a hand, and receiving a portion of the remaining clay-potion supplement Umitsubame created earlier, Ashigara watches as the Su Yari and Swordsmith get to work with something that is obviously better left to the hands of the masters. Carefully, the two begin layering on differing thicknesses of the mixture upon the surfaces of the blade; More on what will become the softer spine of the blade, and less on the future edge of the blade that will require greater hardening, resulting in flowing, wavy and sometimes even curling pattern of potion-clay mix down the blade's length.

As the two look at each other and nod, then it is back into the magical flames the swordsmith wieldes at her command, in lieu of the forge their past selves have currently appropriated. Slowly, Sakiko draws the blade back and forth through the flames, carefully and evenly bringing the entirety of it's length up to a single desired temperature, while keeping the coatings of backed on potion and clay intact.

At last moving to a nearby tank of water however, Sakiko then pauses and looks at Ashigara as if she just had an idea.

"You have fresh water stores, right?"

"Yeah?" Answers Ashigara with a nod.

In response, Sakiko gestures at an empty quenching tank instead. "Perfect, that'll be a hell of a lot more fitting than just some random water." Realizing what the okami intends, immediately Ashigara's faeries spring into action, forming a bucket line that in seconds fills up the suggested tank with water from taps and tubs throughout her hull.

Grinning at the further connection binding everything together, the heavy cruiser is almost surprised the okami doesn't cackle as she plunges the blade into the liquid, immediately causing the surface to erupt with hissing steam and scalding bubbles. Sakiko stares past it although, looking and sensing for some hidden factor only the master can detect, that will tell her the optimal point between hardness and resilience has been reached. That moment comes only seconds later, but even just those short moments in the water have produced a change that makes Ashigara gasp.

Though still in need of a final clean up, followed by filling and sharpening, at last Ashigara has a good look at the sword they have been working towards, and which she saw their future selves with earlier. Relieved of it's masks of clay, something that is already recognizable as a katana stares back at her, nioi sparkling brightly as the light plays across the now recognizable hamon. One that now takes a pattern like gentle waves at sea, or the rippling ocean at her old waterline as she made steam.

For a moment, she feels a connection to the blade. Something that is both inspiring and proud, and seems to come from both herself and in minute reflection from the nascent sword.

Seeing her expression, Sakiko grins. "Do you feel that?"

"Yeah.... is that....?" Uncertainly holding out her hands, the okami gently places the still unfinished blade into the heavy cruisers hands, allowing her to full appreciate not just the magic already coursing through the steel, but now the vague sense of something else now as well. A neonate presence that while not quite sentient or truly aware, is never the less there.

"That's the blade," confirms the swordsmith with smile, carefully laying her hands over its surface as well. Closing her eyes, she then breathes out deeply and runs a glowing palm over the steel's length, checking for any imperfections she already knows she won't find. "Yes.... you.... you will be a protector. It has been too long since the line of Ken-gitsune has produced anything other than crude implements of bloodshed. Oh yes, I'll look forward to seeing you reach one hundred years and a fully realized spirit..."

For some reason, Ashigara finds herself still more than a little awed. This blade in her hands is more than just a thing. It is more than just a particularly powerful sword. Within this blade, into which she has poured all her love of Yonehara, and literally more than a few parts of herself....

A sudden sniff interrupt her train of thought, causing Ashigara to look up in confusion. What she sees is Umitsubame with one of the sappiest smiles she has ever seen on her face and whipping away tears.

"Oh, sorry- I'm just.... a little overcome right now I think, oh dear- It's been so long since there was another blade such as us made, let alone one I got to see forged. Oh, I think the last time I saw something like this would have been..."

As the Su Yari tails off and gives another sappy sniffle, the odd behavior of the spear seems to kick the Sakiko back into gear, just in time for the necklace around the okami's neck to chime. "Okay, that's enough salt water in my workshop for one day. It's time for cleaning and whetstones next."

Shuffling them and the nascent sword to the next 'corridor' square, once more they go through the process of the swordsmith taking out her necklace, and then putting it around the three of them. In a brief moment of curiosity, Ashigara then observes the last version of herself entering the previous 'corridor' square, examining the now forged blade her current group carries with interest.

And then Sakiko turns the hourglass, sending the world racing in reverse, and starting the loop once more.

It occurs to Ashigara that this unrelenting pace of production only works, because none of them are human. She can spend days at action stations, and months sailing the ocean with only limited rest if she really needs to. Umitsubame is a spirit of steel, wanting for nothing and as unfaltering and unyielding as the blade she actually is. And Sakiko is more than just an okami, but a master at work, driving herself onwards with sheer dedication to her craft.

Even as they take turns alternating cleaning up the blade, and then finally giving it an truly sharpened edge, Sakiko maintains a careful watch over Ashigara's work, guiding the Heavy Cruiser through the process the swordsmith could probably do in her sleep. The closest she comes to allowing herself a reprieve, are the breaks when Umitsubame is taking her turn. Trusting the spear to be experienced enough at what she's doing after a few hundred years of self-maintenance and fixing up others like some kind of Raid-Mom Healer for her fellow Demon Blades, Sakiko actually leaves the squared off corner of the workshop they're in for a moment. When she comes back, it's with a number of sandwiches and energy drinks from a nearby mini-fridge.

Rather than having them eat individually during the breaks in their shifts at the whetstone, the okami then has them stop. Curiously though, Sakiko also has the blade cleaned off and then propped up beside them while they eat. Seeing Ashigara's raised eyebrow, it is the Su Yari who jokingly elaborates. "It's never too early to start teaching good etiquette."

After their small lunch, it is Sakiko who finally finishes the last touch ups to the blade, while Umitsubame works on another potion. After a final few runs along the whetstone, and then a dunk in the water to clean it up, the okami grabs a pair of tongs, and holds the blade by the very tip of the tang, over the almost glassy, shimmering surface of the liquid that is almost even clearer than water. Watching as Sakiko then carefully lowers the blade into mixture, for a moment Ashigara has the mental image of watching some sort of modern, sword-based variation on Achilles being dipped into the River Styx.

And then Ashigara gasps. The blade that is withdrawn from the cauldron is a completed one. No longer just a rough, sword looking piece of metal, but after hours of cleaning and sharpening, now a gleaming, polished blade, that is almost as much a work of art as it is a weapon.

Sakiko herself seems to think as such, looking over her completed work proudly, just in time for her Time Turner to chime once more.

And so it is on to the next square of the workshop, as time is rewound once more.

"Now here comes the fun part," elborates Sakiko, as Ashigara takes in the latest area for them to work in. "Now we shall begin working on the fittings, while Umitsubame works on the wraps and the woodwork."

Another set of kitsune-bi esque flames come out, as the okami proceeds to set about forming the habaki, fuchi and seppa, even getting Ashigara to lend her strength to hammering the fittings to shape a few times under her guidance. After a quick check to make sure they will fit the blade they are intended for, it is then on to the much more delicate work on the tsuba, menuki, and kashira. It is as she watches Sakiko gather her materials though, that Ashigara has an idea.

"Is that gold?" the Hungry Wolf asks, as she notices the swordsmith contemplating measuring out a few tiny pieces to be added to a small crucible containing strips of copper.

"It is indeed." Says the okami with a grin. "Some of the rare stuff that occasionally used to come out of the ground along with the copper from around here. I like to make my own Shakudo alloy for special projects such as this."

"How much gold are you actually using?" asks the heavy cruiser.

"It's about a eight to nine percent mix, but considering this is going to be for inserts and small decorative elements on larger pieces, it's not actually going to be all that much."

For a moment, Ashigara thinks things over

And then there is a fairy on the table, proudly standing top a bar of gold bullion.

Sakiko gasps and looks at the Heavy Cruiser is disbelief. "This is too much! I don't need that much gold! All we need is maybe a few tiny slivers off of a corner."

"That's fine," says Ashigara with a smile. "Consider the rest of the bar a payment for the sword."

The okami's eyes widen, but she resolutely shakes her head. "What- Payment?! I can't take this, it's-"

The Hungry Wolf laughs. "Too much? Even if it wasn't magical, swords like this are practically invaluable. And the value as a gift..."

Blushing slightly, Sakiko still shakes her head and still politely tries to decline the payment. "The honor and opportunity to produce a blade such as this is it's own reward to me. As is the chance to make the Ken-gitsune line known once more, and to forge a sword that will be able to stand alongside the Shisashikon in the eyes of my clan."

Ashigara however, is unswayed and offers a grin as an idea comes to her in turn. "Well how about this then? Let's just think of it as a down payment for another sword, at some point in the future."

The Master Swordsmith smiles, and finally accepts the bar. "In that case, I accept."

Magically removing a few think flakes of gold from a corner of the bullion that are then added to the crucible and it's floating magical flame, Sakiko's smile slowly turn's knowing as a thought occurs to her. "I will hold you to that promise though. Even if I were not an okami, and my life so long, to produce a blade like this for a man..... I have a funny feeling there may be others blades, of smaller makes and size needing to be produced in future." Seeing the Hungry Wolf blush at her implications, Sakiko laughs as she finishes her magically quickened melding of both metals, and the enchantments laid upon the Shakudo in it's creation.

Pouring out the newly formed precious alloy of copper and gold, the four pieces produced are then suspended in a small boiling solution to undergo the final stage of their distinctive coloration process, while Sakiko next tackles the primary metallic bodies of the parts they shall be affixed to. To Ashigara's surprise, the okami manages to involve her once more, even in this delicate stage of the construction. What starts as basic forge work on the raw metal, shaping the slot for the tang and a few minor holes and slots for future inserts, soon turns to delicate work that is almost akin jewellery-making. Metal is cleaned and polished, after which designs etched, shaped, and raised on the surfaces of both the initial pieces, before the Shakudo accents are finally added on and given similar treatment in turn.

The end result, is that all four final products, the tsuba guard, the two menuki, and the kashira hilt cap, are practically works of art in their own right. On the Tsuba, a pair of wolves shaped out of Shakudo chase each other around the slot for the blade, while the menuki take the form of a pair of wolves adorned with subtle patterns on their heads. Markings that are also mirrored in a more crest-like form on the ends of the kashira.

Now all that remains is to check over the non-metal materials Umitsubame has been working with, and then assemble the entire blade.

Needless to say, the Su Yari's work does not disappoint, and is even rather masterful in it's own right. A dazzling Saya of somehow already painted and lacquered wood has been produced by Umitsubame's hand, to serve as the future home and scabbard of the sword they are assembling. Meanwhile, sting ray skin now coats a hilt of hinoki wood, but even more dazzling is the braided cord she has produced to be used in the tsuka-ito that shall wrap the handle once the menuki are in place. A powerful red, not of blood, but fate and binding ties. Made up of multiple bonds that were once her signal flags and other fabrics from her surrendered apparel (some re-dyed), the material has been treated with yet another of Umitsubame's mixtures, giving it magical strength and durability, and yet the smoothness of silk, before being tightly wound into a single cord.

A red cord.

A red string of fate, for Yonehara to hold onto.

The thought makes the Heavy Cruiser blush, before she then notices something about the blade that makes her laugh instead. Curious, the other two look at the hungry wolf in confusion.

"Did we do something wrong?" asks the spear uncertainly?

Ashigara smiles and shakes her head. "You used a Bravo Flag in the final part of the cord." Raising up the material to show them, the heavy cruiser grins. "Traditionally the Bravo Flag is used by vessels to tell others that they are carrying dangerous cargo."

Immediately, Umitsubame's worry turns to amused relief. "Well then, I would say that there are few cargoes more dangerous, a swordsman such as how you described your Yonehara, could carry in this day and age."

"All the more reason to finish this then," says Sakiko with a grin, as her Time Turner chimes once more. "We're on to the final step ladies."

Gathering up the assorted parts they have created on this latest loop, it is then onto the next corridor square, and after yet another dizzying rewind, the last and final square of the workshop available. A simple workbench is allocated to this corner of the room, but at this point, it is all they really need. With fascination, Ashigara watches as Sakiko uses simple tools, without any aid of magic at all, to affix the kashira and fuchi to either end of the ray skin coated hilt Umitsubame has produced.

Then to her surprise, Sakiko places the red cord and the incomplete tsuka in her hands.

"Wait, me?" Ashigara looks at the okami uncertainly. "I've never wrapped a sword before."

"Really?" Asks Umitsubame coyly. "Then it's a good thing you're with two people very experienced with such things."

The hungry wolf turns red enough to match the cord as she realizes her unintended innuendo and the Su Yari's double-entendre, while the okami of the group just chuckles and shakes her head. "Don't worry. We'll guide you through this part, but actually doing the wrapping? This needs to be all on you."

For a moment, Ashigara looks down at the incomplete hilt, comparing it to the kendo shinai and bokken she's more familiar with and wielded in the past. The train of thought then makes her think of Yonehara.

Yonehara, who this sword and all her love are for, and which this red cord is pretty blatantly supposed to symbolize.

"I'll give it my best shot then then," declares the Heavy cruiser, causing her two companions to smile.

"Fantastic," declares Sakiko as she procures from a nearby draw a plain, incomplete hilt that is obviously a leftover from some other project. Locating a length of spare cord in the draw as well, the okami then sits back down, opposite Ashigara to give her a perfect view of what she is doing. "Right, this is what you need to do....."
-------------------------------

Outside in the waiting room, Jun'yo looks at the clock, while the shipgirls gather around and the Muramasa blades congregate near a vending machine under the watchful eye of Suisei, in lieu of their normal minder. Watching the congregation, the carrier can't help but think that the less restrained blades can already smell the blood in the water, under the weaker control of their current designated babysitter.

Meanwhile with their own group, Zuikaku looks at the others uncertainly. "Uh.... so how long do you think they'll actually be? Because I'm thinking I might just take Shokaku back to the hotel.... she's not exactly..... well...."

Looking at the still monumentally hungover crane, Jun'you can't help but wince in sympathy for her fellow aircraft carrier as she gives an pained groan. ".... I'm never.... ever.... going to drink again....."

At that moment, Akagi's phone goes off, much like it has for much of the morning, causing the carrier to raise it up and look at the message with morbid foreboding. Then, when she actually sees the message, her jaw drops in horror. "Wait, we did what on SGO last night!?!"

Suddenly, there is a round of laughter from the Muramasa blades, attracting the attention of their fellow group, as well as a now mortified Suisei. "HOW?!?! I look away for FIVE SECONDS!"

From within the vending machine, alongside the racks of candy bars her true form has somehow impossibly managed to become trapped with after being inserted through the collection bin, Norimune the odachi looks at Akutoku with betrayal. "How do you keep convincing us to do these things?!?"

The Blade of Corruption just cackles.

Jun'yo facepalms at the other group's antics, before looking to the clock.

It's only been ten minutes.

With a sigh, she then looks back to the crane sisters, and their invisible guest also known as Shokaku's Apocalyptic Hangover. "Yeah, you should probably take her back to the hotel room. I don't know how long those three are going to take but, at the very least, it's probably going to be a few hours-"

Abruptly, she is then cut off by the buzz of the security door, and the sound of the handle turning. Looking about in surprise, Jun'yo is just in time to see the door swing open, and catch the sounds of hammers and the forge at work.

"Oh hey- Did you forget something?" the carrier asks jokingly. "You can't be done... al....ready....?"

In confusion, Jun'yo stares at Ashigara, Sakiko, and Umitsubame exiting through the doorway, a wrapped package in the Heavy Cruiser's hands. Behind them though, she also catches a glimpse of Ashigara, Sakiko, and Umitsubame working over a billet of steel as it is withdrawn from the forge, while in another corner of the room, Ashigara, Sakiko, and Umitsubame also begin hammering out a more pure and now heavily infused length of steel into a more katana-like shape.

"What the...?"

Beside her, Iowa then notices something Jun'yo has also failed to immediately realize, what with the oddity of seeing multiple copies of the three before her running around in the room behind them in the moments before the door shuts. "Jesus, you guys look you've just come off a twenty-four hour shift or something? What the hell did you three just do in there."

A proud grin then splits the threes' ash and soot covered faces, with none wider than the one born on Ashigara's face. "We made a sword."

"What? I call bullshit, " challenges the battleship. "You guys were in there for only ten minutes."

In response, Ashigara reveals the object wrapped in a silk bundle that she has been carrying. A long dark sheath of lacquered wood, holding a blade. A blade that is almost more a work of art, with it's gleaming tsuba of steel adorned with wolves of shakudo, and a hilt covered in tightly bound lengths of red cord. Even the Muramasa blades, embroiled in their unsuccessful efforts to remove the odachi from the vending machine, are struck silent and find their eyes drawn to the sword that has now been debuted to the room.

Jun'yo can understand why. This is a blade that almost mirrors them in essence, but feels untainted and pure in nature. Rather than blood, death and the desire to dominate or control however, this newly created blade, too new to even have a properly cognizant spirit or soul yet, emanates with the love that was put into the work to create it, turning the power of those emotions into the strength and will to serve, and strike down all who would seek to harm or cause injustice to it's wielder and kin.

The Muramasa Blades aren't the only ones enamored by this great work. Eyes wide in disbelief and astonishment at the sword so 'rapidly' produced, Akagi looks at the Heavy Cruiser with amazement writ across her face, and her phone almost forgotten. "Can..... Can we see it?"

The Hungry Wolf gives a glowing, proud grin, as she grasps the hilt of the sword in one hand and holds onto the saya with the other.

And then she draws.


Light shimmers across the surface of the blade, sparkling along the hamon that ripples down the length of the blade, like waves down the length of a ship. The edge itself gleams with a sharpness that almost seems to alternate between silent singing and musical howling, as Ashigara flows through a few experimental twirls and slashes. And from within the steel emanates an inner strength, forged with the strength of the bonds between the maiden who put so much of herself and her love into it's creation, and the man the sword would be intended for.

"So pretty..." gasps Akutoku, for once seemingly without any ulterior motive or unintentional malice.

Kagotsuruhe face light's up, with a happiness that doesn't actually look false or overly forced.

Norimune looks caught somewhere between jealousy and awe.

Even Shokaku seems to momentarily forget her monstrous hangover in the wave of wonder that overtakes the two groups.

At last though, Jun'yo is the one to finally break the amazed silence, with a grin and a joke. "Hey, don't let Harry see that blade, or you might awaken his inner magpie."

The master swordsmith at the heavy cruiser's side laughs in a knowing manner, while Ashigara grins proudly. "According to Sakiko, I don't think that will be a an issue for this blade."

"Aye," the okami says, beaming with triumph. "A blade like that is specially bound, even without enchantments to tie it to bloodlines or ownership. It's no Shisashikon, but it will take special circumstances for that blade to ever leave your bloodline for overly long periods against it's will."

Turning to look at the gleefully satisfied wolf properly, Ashigara smiles. "All the more reason to thank you for this then, especially on such short notice and after inconveniencing you yesterday like we did."

"Oh, don't mention it. Sometimes the journey you're looking for, begins with someone else's halfway point. Or bar crawl," amends the okami with a laugh."If anything, I should be the one thanking you. If you all hadn't drunkenly stumbled in here looking for challenge coins, I wouldn't have had the chance to do this; The creation of a blade, of not just unique materials and powerful intentions, but also the kind of fated circumstances I'll be lucky to ever see again in my career."

"I think there will be more than a few others wanting swords like this one after this," chips in Jun'yo with a grin, while thumbing at Akagi who is already taking pictures of blade in fascination.

Sakiko however, shakes her head.

"There maybe others. There probably will be. But sometimes the circumstances matter just as much as the intent, when making the difference between a great blade, and a legend." The wolf nods to herself, as if acknowledging something that has crossed her mind. "To seek me out because they have heard of this blade is not true fate, but simply the nature of any who might feel the desire to improve and find the edge in battle. Maybe I will be wrong, but there is a power in happenstance and fitting coincidence, that ritual and planning do not always beat."

"Well I reiterate then," says Ashigara with a grin and a deep bow of respect. "All the more reason to thank you for this great blade. Down payment or not for a future blade, I am more than in your debt from something as priceless as this."

The okami at last just gives up, shaking her head and smiling. "Oh, enough about who should be thanking who, and let's just call it even. Besides, what is a debt between possible family, right?"

it takes a moment for Ashigara to process the last part of that sentence, followed by her brain momentarily slipping a gear as she blinks owlishly.

"I'm sorry?"

Mistaking her confusion, the master swordsmith continues. "Well, it would be remiss for a household of the Hokubu-Setto to be at function with the Emperor himself, and not have a blade of the Ken-gitsune Line as part of their uniform. Even if I wasn't the current Master of the Forge, family have to look out for family, right? With the Emperor himself in attendance, there was no way I was just going to flog off onto you something old from Santsume's armory."

Ashigara shakes her head in confusion. "Wait, wait, wait! What's this part about family?"

Pausing for a moment, Sakiko then tilts her head in confusion. "Wait, you mean you didn't notice?"

"What, the ears and tail? Of course I noticed them. I've had them all day."

The okami frowns dubiously. "Hold on, do you mean to say you haven't even lit them up at all?"

"Lit what up?!" cries the Hungry Wolf in confusion.

In answer, Sakiko reaches out, and gentle rests a palm on Ashigara's brow.

A brow that then immediately lights up in a glowing pattern of interconnected and flowing red lines, circles and swirls. The softly radiant light show doesn't just rest upon her skin though, but even flows across her face and through her hair as well, undisturbed by the shifting of her brown stresses and the worried flicks of her lupine ears. To Jun'yo's magically learned eye, there are slight similarities to other okami clan marks she has seen before. The waitress and bartender at the Golden Ofuda the previous day, both had variations on the same design. The Hokubu Clan head, in what pictures she has seen of him with them illuminated, sports a set of clan marking that many of the patterns she has seen so far in Yamainutaira seem to originate from, something to be expected considering Kogamaru's membership in the Hokubu Main Family.

The markings that the pattern on Ashigara's brow do most closely resemble however, are far closer than expected. They're in the very same room as the Heavy Cruiser right now in fact. Directly opposite her, adorning the face and brow of Hokubu Sakiko.

A member of the Hokubu-Setto Branch Family of the greater Hokubu Clan.

Realizing the implications, Jun'yo's eyes widen.

"Oh shit!"

Inside the vending machine, Norimune looks up and reflexively spitakes at what she sees while part way through a bottle of stolen juice, only to then howl in anguish upon remembering the tight confines she is still trapped in.

Ashigara meanwhile, now looks around awkwardly, lacking a mirror and so not realizing the presence of the marks glowing upon her brow.

"What? What's everyone looking at?"

 

[darthcourt10]

Lord K Omake: "Protect the smile!"

Barricade said:
How long til Ashigara realizes she initially presented the sword like a mother holding their first, newly born, child?

Then pulled a lion king.
Jaegerkin said:
Sooo, metal of the mother, love of the father, congratulations yonehara, it's a girl in a hundred years.
SkyeFire said:
(not going to insert the appropriate YT vid)
Hell, half the darn snippet felt more like making a baby than a blade. Which, under the circumstances, makes sense.​

It's gone over her head in a mildly oblivious way for now, but the reactions of her sisters and SGO is probably going to be amazing.

Also, if you think about it, the sum of Ashigara's activities this weekend now read;

- Blackout drunk bar crawl
- Gaining a magical set of ears and a tail, that aren't actually as temporary as anybody thinks
- Getting herself drunkenly adopted into a clan who are potentially vital political allies for the JMSDF at the moment (thankfully the Hokubu see no problem with this)
- Loosing all of her clothes
- A variety of other alcohol erased noodle incidents
- Procuring a magic sword that is powerful enough to eventually become sentient in future

And Ashigara was originally supposed to be the one being the responsible drinker for the rest of the group.

SkyeFire said:
And the other Muramasas' reactions were exactly like seeing a new baby for the first time.​

*-*-*-*
*Later back at the hotel*

Akutoku stabs her blade through the table they're having lunch at dramatically

Suisei: "What the hell sis?!"

Akutoku: "We must protect that smile!"

Norimune: "She doesn't even have a form yet numnuts!"

Kagotsuruhe: "But that nature!" *dreamy sigh* "For a moment, I almost felt hope that one day someone might look at me, as her wielder must look at her creator."

Kyoshu: "Hold on, who doesn't have a form?"

Norimune: "Grrr.... well, it's not like there has been another sword of such potential in the last century. At the very least, we should give her pointers once she's old enough. It would be a shame for her to end up with a reputation like us, thanks to inadequate wielders.... If only we could have been so lucky.... Someone truly iron willed.... and strong.... so in control...."

Akutoku: "Your deredere is showing."

Norimune: "It is not!"

Kagotsuruhe: *Sneezes loudly in a way that sounds a lot like "tsundere"*

Norimune: "Screw you guys! 'm not a fucking tsundere...."

*Akutoku leans on her blade and looks down at Norimune with a leer*

Akutoku: "You're right, maybe it's the secret Sub tendencies that are showing through instead?"

Norimune: "I DON'T HAVE-!"

*Norimune pauses as a thought occurs to her*

Norimune: "YOU ASSHOLE! THAT DOUJIN WAS A JAB AT ME WASN'T IT?!?"

Suisei: "N-Now guys! There's no need to fight! WeDon'tNeedAnymorePropertyDamageOnOurHotelBills!!!"

*Suddenly Kyoshu stand up onto the table opposite Akutoku, and stabs her sword from into the wood as well*

"Sis!" "What the hell!" "My money!" "I'd ask 'what is wrong with you?', but that seems kind of redundant."

*Kyoshu blinks and looks at the others in confusion*

Kyoshu: "....... sorry, I saw Akutoku doing it, at thought this was a thing we were supposed to do. What were we talking about again?"

Akutoku: "We must protect that smile!"

Norimune: "Yeah, sure, no problem, you only got to wait for her to actually get a form remember?"

Kyoshu: "Hold, who doesn't have a form?"

*Suisei headesks the table*

*Kyoshu is confused*

*Kyoshu hurt Suisei in it's confusion*
*-*-*-*

SkyeFire said:
I imagine this sword (Hey, does she have a name yet?) turning out to be a real Daddy's Girl, while having a rather tempestuous (though sincerely loving) relationship with her mother. And something of a Wild Child, but with a heart of gold. And in a hundred years or so, she'll probably hop into the travelling chest of one of Harry's (great?) grandkids heading to Hogwarts, prompting an entire string of "she followed me home/to school, can I keep her?" moments.
KBTKaiser said:
I noticed that you haven't revealed the Sword's name yet, Lord K . Still in deliberation?​

Yeah, I'm still torn between "Sword with the Red String" and "Howling hungry wolf/Ueta Okami no Tooboe", or alternately even "Red String of the Sea Wolf's Howing Heart" depending on how reasonably condensed you could actually get the Japanese reading of the name

Haiku said:
Can't believe I missed this for the aftermath of the bar crawl:​

I actually had that in mind when writing about the morning after portion. The "Banned From Argo" aspect is part of what inspired the line from Sakiko about how there's a consideration among the town council on whether or not they should ban Shokaku from all the bars in town for a year, due to a chain of yet to be disclosed noodle incidents and antics throughout the night

wildredlifer said:
The part where Shokaku's hangover was so bad it counted as its own person was a nice touch.​

A hangover so legendary, it takes up a slot in the fleet composition

Barricade said:
So....

Basically any other 15-16yr old g/f who just managed to get the #1 hot jock in school, and feels the need to fend off the other girls with a not-quite-proverbial 2x4?​

Who needs 2x4s when your real form is 23.5 inches/60cm of cold hard steel

 

[darthcourt10]

Harry Leferts

Looking around as they climbed up to where the Shrine was, Arthur adjusted his glasses with a small smile on his face. "So this is the shrine that Ron and the others were talking about?" At Harry's nod as they reached the Torii at the gate, he paused a bit and nodded. "Fascinating."

Ginny meanwhile was looking at everything around in interest. Then she blinked as she spotted someone she was not expecting sweeping the pathway inside. "Um, Natsumi?"

A small smile on her face, Natsumi stopped her sweeping and bowed some. "Ginny-Chan." Then she bowed to the others. "Let me welcome you to the Shrine here on Yokosuka Naval Base."

Hands behind his head, Harry only gave her a small nod. "Hey, Natsumi-Chan." Tilting his head at the Weasleys, he grinned some. "Just showing them around Yokosuka right now and thought that they might want to come here."

Meanwhile, Molly was looking Natsumi over before she shook her head. "What lovely clothes you have on, Natsumi. Is that what is normally worn?" Giving another look, her smile grew a touch. "It is rather pretty."

Leaning against her broom with a chuckle, Natsumi gave a nod. "Thank you, Miss Weasley. And yes, this is traditional wear of Mikos of which I am one." She pointingly ignored Harry's comment of her still being in training before turning to Ginny with a look of concern. "How are you, Ginny-Chan?"

Weakly smiling, the red haired girl gave a small shrug. "I'm doing alright, I guess. Been having some nightmares but still..." Chewing her lip, she looked around. "Should I even be here considering... I mean, from what Percy said impurity is bad and-"

Quickly making her way over, Natsumi placed a hand on Ginny's shoulder before looking her in the eye. "Look at me, Ginny-Chan." Moments later, she continued. "You have nothing to worry about. You are not impure. In fact, you are a wonderful girl who I think that I can count as a friend, correct?" When Ginny slowly nodded, the disguised Kitsune chuckled. "Then trust me when I say that what Tom did, or forced you against your will to do, you carry no karma for."

Suddenly, Haru's voice spoke up from behind the Weasleys causing the red heads to jump. "Well spoken, Natsumi-Chan." The family turned to find Haru there in her own Miko garb and a twinkle in her eye. Harry just barely held back a snort as he figured that obviously the five tailed Kitsune was having a bit of amusement at the British wizards and witches expense. Turning towards Molly, she sighed a bit and bowed. "My apologies, but we're not quite ready for the cleansing ritual for Ginny-Chan, though I hope for it to be ready by tomorrow."

As Molly and Arthur shared a look before nodding, Harry cocked his head to the side in curiosity. "What sort of ritual is going to be performed, Haru-San?"

Chuckling, Haru made a motion with one hand. "While it is no longer June, I have decided that performing a form of Oharae for Ginny-San here." At the worry on the elder Weasleys' faces, she shook her head. "She is in no danger from the ritual. In fact, Harry-Chan here has gone through the simpler version many times over the years."

When they turned to him, Harry gave a small nod. "Yeah, before going to Hogwarts I went through it twice a year. Once in June and again in December." Shrugging, he continued. "It's supposed to purify a person of bad luck and such."

Slowly relaxing, Molly and Arthur sighed in relief before the Weasley Matriarch turned and gave Haru a thankful look. "You have no idea how thankful that we are that you are willing to do this for our Ginny. Thank you."

Haru just waved her off with a smile. "You are very welcome, Molly-San. But I would be willing to do this even if we had only just met today. What happened to her was of no fault of her own besides perhaps placing her trust somewhere it should not have been. She should not suffer his taint though any more." With another small bow, she gestured for the Weasleys to follow her. "Now then, considering events I think that it is best that I both explain what will happen tomorrow and show you what is normally done when one visits a Shinto Shrine."

Both Haru and Natsumi explained normal etiquette for visiting a shrine and guided the Weasleys who had never visited a Shinto shrine through the process. At the back of the group, Amisi had a small smile on her face as the fairy on her shoulder translated what was being said. Much to Percy's surprise, she followed the directions perfectly and he leaned towards her. "May I ask why you don't have any issue with this?"

Once Amisi knew what was translated, she looked him right in the eye and explained that even though they were not her gods, they were still the gods of this land as much as hers were of Egypt. Foreign gods, yes, but ones that should be respected nonetheless. It went without saying that Percy had an expression of bemusement on his face at that.

Meanwhile, Bill was looking at Haru with interest. "From what I am to understand there are gods enshrined here? Which ones?"

Amused, Haru gave him a look. "Here they are called Kami, though I suppose gods are not far off. It's somewhat... complicated. As to whom is enshrined here? One of those Kami enshrined here is that of the sailors who gave their lives during Blood Week and after against the Abyssals." Her smile became a touch melancholy. "Including my own husband."

Gasping, Molly reached over and gently squeezed Haru's shoulder. "Oh, I am so sorry. My deepest condolences."

Not saying anything at first, Haru reached up and squeezed the witch's hand before taking a deep breath and letting it out. "It hurts still, I won't deny. But I will not dishonor his memory by not doing what I can. And I know that some day, I will see him again and until then, I will do what good I can." Blinking away some wetness at the familiar pain, she shook her head. "But as to the others, we have Inari here as is Susano'o, Hachiman, and Owatasumi. Amaterasu is another Kami also enshrined here."

All the older Weasleys did was nod at that.

Later as evening fell, Harry returned and passed by Juuchi before pausing. Turning, he blinked as he noted that she sat on top of a bed of orange peels with her hilt pillowed on a blood orange. For some odd reason he somehow knew she was trying to make some sort of statement being as she was directly in his line of sight upon opening the door. "I would ask, but I think not." Ignoring the smug amusement, he noticed a message on his phone and followed it to a link before blinking. "... You have an account now on SGO? And you posted a picture... Draw you like one of my French Swords..."

Yet again, he raised an eyebrow and gave her a look. The sword gave a rattle while exuding so much smugness that it practically formed a cloud. A cloud of orange scented smug.

Only shaking his head, Harry sighed before frowning, 'What has her in such a good mood, I wonder?' Noticing the door to his room was open, he poked his head into the door before his eyes widened. "Oh. That's why."

In front of his Owl Box was an amused Hedwig who had a polished, wooden package under her.

Several minutes later, Harry had the box on the kitchen table in time for a tired Nagato to enter the apartment. At seeing the box, she gave a small nod. "Dumbledore-San did say that he would be sending her today."

Harry just nodded as he snapped open the container, and could feel the anticipation from Juuchi as he lifted the lid. There, laying cushioned in the box was none other then Tsukiakari no Suzu. Gently, he lifted the blade from inside the container and then pushed the container aside with a small smile. "Hello, Tsukiakari no Suzu, I'm Harry Potter and with me is my adopted Mum, the Battleship Nagato." He then tilted his head towards where Juuchi was. "And I'm sure that you know Juuchi Yosamu already?"

A moment passed before Suzu's blade slid slightly out of it's sheath and Juuchi gave a rattle. Suzu's blade poked a bit more out and Nagato gave it a smile as she sat down. "Good evening, Suzu-Chan. As my Sochi said, I am the Battleship Nagato and allow me to welcome you back to Japan after so long. I've heard what you have done for the Potter family and allow me to say it is a pleasure meeting a fine blade as you."

Within seconds, Harry felt the sheath in his hands warm before he spoke up. "I'd like to apologize to you." Feeling the sword's attention on him, Harry gave a small bow. "When I saw you in the Potter Storehouse, I did not realize how much you have done for my family and I should have removed you then. For that, I am extremely sorry." He ignored the feeling of Juuchi being extremely pleased while he focused on Suzu who clicked herself open and closed while giving off the feeling of being extremely embarrassed. "Tomorrow, I'm taking you to see some people that I know, historians. I'm not ready yet nor do I have the full knowledge to properly maintain you as of yet though I will be learning for both you and Juuchi's sake. You are my family's blades and I will make sure that you are taken care of. In the meantime though , Daichi-San is an expert and will perform any maintenance needed for you."

If Juuchi had been pleased and smug before, the levels she gave off now went through the roof.

However, it was nothing compared to the next morning when Harry brought Juuchi and Tsukiakari to the Archives and walked in along with Kurosawa, Osamu, and Daichi to a sight that made them all blink. When she had gone to meet Harry, Kurosawa had left the computer running. And now they had returned to find Honjo in front of said computer... with an image of Tako to Ama on the screen. Within moments, and unbidden, Harry stared and barely registered his phone being taken before turning and noticing that it was now beside Juuchi and showed that said picture had been uploaded.

Between the mortification, embarrassment from both Honjo and Tsukiakari, pure rage and anger from the first, and extreme amounts of smug from Juuchi, Harry only sighed.

 

[darthcourt10]

Harry Leferts

Pushing Sachiko along, Moriko turned towards Suzume who was looking through a guidebook in her hand. "Well? How much further until we get to this place?"

Quickly turning some pages, Suzume frowned some and looked around the small street they found themselves on. "According to this? It's not that far..." Frown deepening, she furrowed her eyebrows before blinking. "Wait, I think that it's right over there."

Eyebrow raising, Moriko looked over her twin's shoulder and raised an eyebrow. "I... think that's the place alright." Narrowing her eyes, the Okami snorted. "Or at least it definitely looks like the place going by the guidebook."
Head tilted to the side, Sachiko blinked. "Really?" At the nod, she glanced at the small storefront herself. "I'm... still not sure about this. I mean, I don't need this."

Moriko gave her a look before rolling her eyes. "We've been given invites to the wedding. Don't really know why, but from what they told us all shipgirls on base, Summoned or Natural Born, even those not awakened yet, are invited. Hence, we're all getting new dresses." Frowning, she scratched her head. "According to the guide we were given this place is the one that most often has clothing suitable for shipgirls? I think?"

Giving her sister look over, which focused both on how tall she was as well as her body's built, Suzume's tone turned dry. "Something that I think that you can be thankful for considering how hard it has been to find clothes that actually fit you."

All that Moriko did though was give Suzume a narrowed eyed gaze. Then gave her a once over and snorted. "As if you're much better."

The sound of giggles made them turn to where Sachiko was holding a hand to her surgical mask. Her eyes were practically sparkling with glee at seeing one of the usual arguments between her older sisters. Arguments that had lightened many a dark time growing up. Reaching down, Suzume poked her in the side and a squeak escaped the youngest of the three as she squirmed. "No!'

Smirking, Suzume snorted. "You were asking for it, Sachiko-Chan." Now looking back at the small shop, she chuckled some. "I'll admit, I suppose that it makes some sense to have a clothing store for shipgirls. I mean, can you imagine how hard it is for Yamato-Sama for instance to find something that fits? Considering her body type?"

Her arms crossed, Moriko shook her head. "Not that I've seen her in many clothes besides her uniform. But yeah, that would be pretty hard." She then gestured with her head towards Sachiko. "Though I wonder what you're opinion on the place will be. I mean, Moriko-Chan and I always had you work our clothes to mke them fit or to repair them."

On Sachiko's face was a small, visible blush. Mainly because what her sister just said was true. Due to her health, she was never able to do the sort of work that was to be done in the Reserve or help out physically in the wider world once they were out of the reserves. What she had done though was learn the ways of working with cloth. It was simple and easy for her to do so. During her childhood, her parents often dumped her with the elders when they went out to work in the fields. The older, female Yokai passed on various ways of sewing, tailoring, and the like.

In fact, during their time in the reserves Sachiko was often the one to do repairs on clothing and the like for her sisters. Or to work on the blankets and futons. After their escape from the reserve, she had continued to do any sewing needed to stretch their funds. In fact, Moriko's uniforms she wore for the ring were made by the youngest of the three sisters using sashiko stitching she was taught by the older Yokai. It was not just that either as more then once, her sisters would bring cloth and Sachiko would transform it into useable, if somewhat plain, clothing.

Granted, it was even considered to be useful on the base to some extent. While many shipgirls had basic skills in sewing, it was few who could do more then sew pieces of cloth together. Ooyodo, as soon as she was given examples of Sachiko's work, had offered a place where she could do work for the wider base. As soon as she had seen it, Sachiko had fallen in love with the small space. She already had her sewing machine, one of the few items that they had picked up and brought everywhere with them, there. All she was waiting for now was orders of fabric and yarn, which she could knit into various clothes.

Something that made the sickly Okami happy as now she felt useful.

Upon entering the shop though, Sachiko's eyes widened some as she looked around. Besides normal clothing, there was also various dresses on display. Some of them were of the sort that would fit a shipgirl with some minor work unlike with most clothes for the average Japanese person. Rapidly blinking, she turned her head to look up at an impressed looking Moriko. "Can... can we even afford any of this? I mean..."

Expression softening, Moriko gently patted her younger sister on the shoulder. "Hai, we got more then enough money. The JMSDF is paying all three of us as if we were Lieutenants after all, with a signing bonus due to being Natural Borns. So we got the money for once to... splurge a little on some nice things." Her lips then curled a bit. "Besides which, I want to see you in a nice dress and knock all the boys dead."

More then a little flustered, Sachiko played with her clothing. "I... I don't know about that..."

Suzume gave a snort before raising an eyebrow. "Well, we're your Onee-Chans and know better in that regard. Isn't that right, Moriko-Chan?"

Grinning, Moriko gave a laugh. "Oh, that's true enough. Seriously, you're a beautiful girl and you should know that by now, Sachiko-Chan. You in a nice dress for a change? I think that we're all looking forward to that... though they might need some mops after."

Confused, the youngest of the three Okami blinked and looked up at her sister. "Mops? Why would they need mops?"

Just leaning in, the Yokai Martial Artist grinned even wider. "Why else? Because besides the Brides who will be out of reach, you'll be there. And I just know that every single guy will be looking at our beautiful lucky charm of an Imouto. Maybe Kogamaru-San will be there too and trip just from a glance at you."

Bringing her hands up, Sachiko covered her face some. "Onee-San, you're embarrassing me. You know that won't happen."

Arms crossed, Suzume shook her head. "Who says that it won't?" Then she blinked and smiled some as she spotted movement. "And it looks like either the owner or one of his employers are coming here."

Within a few seconds, a man stood in front of them with a small smile. "A good morning to you all, is there any way that I can help you?"

Glancing around the shop and taking in what was there, Moriko gave a small nod. "Maybe? We're all looking for dresses regarding the wedding that's happening. And, well..." She motioned at herself. "As you can see, that's a bit difficult for us."

Lightly laughing, the man only nodded. "Yes, I can guess why you would have issues with that. But I think that I might have some dresses that could fit you all." Humming, he looked down at Sachiko before nodding as he internally noted how sickly she looked as well as being in a wheelchair. "Now for you, may I make a suggestion?"

Only blinking, Sachiko gave a small nod. "Um, sure? This is my first time getting a dress..."

Simply smiling, the man gave a chuckle. "Well, for you might I suggest one of our overlaid dresses? It's a lace dress but underneath is a fabric dress as well. Perhaps a shawl or a cloak for some extra warmth if you say past nightfall? It does get a bit chilly close to the ocean after all once the sun sets."

Brightening, Sachiko clapped her hands. "That sounds good actually."

It was then that she spotted his hand and frowned as there was something off about it. Noticing that, the man pulled back his sleeve. "I was in the JASDF during Blood Week and used to fly a helicopter. Got shot down during the Second Battle of Tokyo and lost my arm that day. But eventually I got back on my feet and decided to open a small shop here since my wife's family is rather connected. Especially with fabric suppliers and the like, with her being a mastermind at putting together clothing."

A frown on her face, Moriko leaned in some. "It looks pretty real to me. Is that one of the new ones that they came out with?"

Unable to help himself, the man laughed and wiggled the fingers on the artificial limb. "Hai, it actually has a sense of touch and can be controlled by my nervous system." Shaking his head, he examined it himself. "It's almost like it's my old hand really. Then again, with all the injuries from Blood Week, it's no wonder that prosthetic limb technology advanced like it did. Pretty much in the last two years though they got it to this level." With a blink, he chuckled some. "Sorry about that, I'm Daisuke. Now then, how about we find some dresses for you? I already got two red heads from Britain in the shop as well looking for dresses, but I'll do my best."

The three Okami only nodded and followed him into the shop.

 

[darthcourt10]

K9Thefirst1 Omake: "Koga as the Little Spoon"

You know, I'm pretty interested in what might happen if Kiba, Ai and Koga are also at the wedding... (On my phone, have to settle for a script fic).
*-*-*-*
At The Reception...

Kiba: *mildly traumatized* Oh no!

Ai: What?

Kiba: I'd know those massive mammaries and beefy biceps anywhere! That she-wolf cost me a million yen by knocking out an oni in one punch and oh kami Koga's walking up to her!

Ai: Well I never... Seems like he's asking her for a dance.

Kiba: We have to stop him, if she doesn't break his itty-bitty heart with her words she'll break his itty-bitty body with her knee!

Ai: Is that your genuine opinion, or are you just sore over losing a fortune gambling.

Kiba: I don't know! Maybe!

Jin: I dunno Kiba, she sure doesn't look like a cold-blooded monster to me. Look at her face!

Ai: Hmm... Seems like beneath the fighter there's a little girl that didn't get a chance to figure out what to do with a boy. But she doesn't look upset, just flushed.

Jin: ... *Snorts* Aaaannnd we apparently have discovered Koga's type. You see the height difference?

Kiba: *now calmed down, looks closer* Huh... What do you guys think: Years of being set up as the sole hope of his clan made him want to be given a sense of being safe and protected in strong arms and be carried like a Princess?

Jin: Pretty sure it has more to do with the fact that if she hugs him his head would disappear.

Ai: We are not psycho-analysing our friend. He's showing genuine interest in a woman for the first time, let's just be happy for him, and not tell the Elders so that they don't scare her off.

Jin: ...20,000 yen says she carries him off like a sack of rice, and we don't hear from Koga again until tomorrow morning, when he calls for a shirt and pants, a jug of orange juice and an IV drip.

Kiba and Ai: No.

Boke: *the pilot* I'll take that action!



Bare in mind this is (mostly) just fun, and if Harry and Lord K approve and decided to use it, cool. If not, also cool (and if Harry likes but K doesn't, I yield to the latter, as I likely have butchered his characters).