Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Commander's eyes flew open as he caught his breath.

What was that dream?

He sat up from bed, rubbing the back of his neck.

It was a blur of colors, blending into each other like strokes of paint.

Gold. Pale blue. Crimson.

It was...

Something.

His gaze turned to the digital clock beside him.

6:13 a.m.

He sighed.

Another early morning.

_

Once he finished most of his morning routine—fixed his bed, shaved, showered—he stepped toward his valet stand.

There, his uniform waited: plain white, with the gleam of brass buttons lining down the front and the Azur Lane emblem embroidered to its left breast. His naval cap sat at the top: white with black trimmings and the same emblem resting at its centre.

There were no creases or folds. Just a prim and proper uniform.

Nothing out of place.

He buttoned his jacket, put his cap on and stepped into the hall.

His stomach grumbled.

_

Along the empty hallway, the Commander ambled. His steps echoed through the corridors with the base's filters buzzing.

He passed a set of doors which led him to the mess hall. It was a room mostly with empty seats, save for a few shipgirls scattered at some tables. They looked up and waved at him. He waved back.

_

After breakfast, he strode to his office.

When he reached the doors, he pulled out a key out of his pocket and inserted it in the knob. But before he opened it he leaned in closer, ear to the door.

Silence...

After a moment he breathed a sigh and turned the knob open.

No Taihou.

_

Work came in droves.

Fleet reports here. Daily mail there. More mission updates to be reviewed and exercises to be held.

He bore it all in silence.

His signature filled empty lines of reports. Each stamp pressed down on blank spaces. Pages were turned and documents handled.

The clock ticked by in this rhythm—slow and steady.

Some ship girls even came in to visit, their voices and presence warming up the room.

"GOOOOOOD MORNING COMMANDER!" Beamed Javelin, skipping in to his office.

"Commander, I need you to check this report..." Came in Enterprise, dropping a folder to his desk.

"Honourable Master, here are some snacks made by this pitiful maid." Offered Sirius, almost tripping on a wire with the tray.

"Shikikan-sama, choose me for your next secretary..." Purred Akagi, leaning in closer than necessary.

Each visit came in after the last and soon silence settled in again. Silence he sighed at.

_

During lunch, the Commander sat on a bench at the port's plaza.

The breeze swept in, carrying the scent of saltwater mixed with the fruity sweetness of the cherry blossoms swaying overhead.

He took a bite out his sandwich and stared at the enormous golden anchor displayed with the fountain.

Chicken this time.

_

"Ready Commander." Yelled Bismarck, pointing her guns to the Sakuran mock fleet.

"All is ready Commander." Nagato signaled. "We await your command."

"Begin!" The Commander ordered, his hand cutting straight to the air.

The roar of guns followed then the splashing of water.

The Commander watched the maneuvers unfold from the observation post, writing down notes on his clipboard.

_

A yawn escaped his mouth once he signed the last of the papers from the stack.

Finished.

He stretched his arms up, leaning back with a groan.

Then his eyes landed on the empty chair in front of him.

He stared at it for a while.

Since Mikasa left as his secretary, things have been rather...cold.

No more warm offers of tea. No more banters about modern equipment. No more stolen glances over desk reports. No more frequent attempts to start conversations about their lives.

It was just...

Silence.

The Commander straightened the papers on his desk then stood up and flicked the desk lights off.

Mikasa had given him a faint smile before she left. "It's been an honour serving as your secretary, Commander." She had said. "Hopefully I've imparted some of this old lady's wisdom onto you."

He thanked her then, praised her for her unwavering duty and impeccable performance.

But as her hand gripped the doorknob, she turned around with a look he didn't recognize. Her eyes glinted with something he couldn't quite name. "I hope you find what you're looking for. Not as the Commander, but as a man."

The Commander stood for a moment before shaking his head.

He should get another secretary.

_

Dinner was served in a tray—salad with a small packet of dressing.

The Commander sauntered across the mess hall, finding an empty seat just by the walls.

He sat down and forked the lettuce on his tray.

Shipgirls from different factions crowded the space, filling in the tables and deafening the room with their chatter and the clinking of utensils.

A few greeted him, even sat with him but in the end they all left to rejoin their friends.

The Commander bit the piece of lettuce.

Crunchy.

_

In his night clothes, the Commander sprawled himself on his sofa.

The day was over.

He let his muscles relax, sinking his body in the cushions and letting out a sigh.

This was it.

And yet a weight came to his mind. The thought that he'd do this same routine all over again.

He rolled over and groaned.

_

As he turned off the lights and laid on his bed, the memory of the day's events drifted into his mind, mostly the dream and Mikasa's words.

Not one of the superstitious kind, he dismissed dreams as random occurrences in the head. They were something not meant to be taken serious of; something meant to be experienced then to forget.

Yet his mind splashed those colours in his memory.

Gold. Pale blue. Crimson.

And Mikasa...

Her voice echoed in his ears as if she lay there beside him:

"Not as the Commander, but as a man."

He shifted in his bed, turning to the other side.

Just what did she mean?

His gaze traced the dark outlines of the wall before he closed his eyes.

He didn't know.

Only that his shipgirls needed him and work waited for him tomorrow.

He fell asleep.

But in another room, someone was still awake.

Chapter Text

The Commander chewed the last bits of the scrambled eggs. Soft and warm. It melted on his tongue.

That was enough.

He gulped down his tea, cleared his tray and shuffled to the table where the metal trays were stacked.

The tray scraped against the top as he set it down.

Around him, there were only a few shipgirls present chattering as their utensils clinked.

The Commander sighed.

Better to relish the silence for now.

_

Along the wood-paneled halls, the Commander sauntered to his office. The smell of polished wood and old paper lingered in the air as his footsteps echoed along the corridor.

But his gut stirred. Something was off.

Turning the next hallway, perfume wafted in the air.

It was faintly familiar, yet something expensive which rarely made its way into his place.

His nose crinkled.

As he took a few steps forward, his eyebrows rose when he saw his office door open.

No one had authority to enter his office without permission. Only a few shipgirls he knew would do something so daring, even reckless.

The Commander's shoulders tensed.

He had a few guesses.

Once he stepped inside he was greeted with the sight of Queen Elizabeth spinning leisurely in his desk chair with Belfast to the side gracefully tidying up the misaligned papers and pens on his desk-probably caused by Queen Elizabeth herself.

The Commander let out a sigh and closed the door behind him.

"Ah there he is." Queen Elizabeth said, stopping her spin. "What took you so long servant? Honestly, I woke up early just for this, it better not go to waste."

The Commander glanced at her then at Belfast.

"Greetings master." Belfast said, bowing.

The Commander turned his gaze back to Queen Elizabeth. "Good morning, Queen Elizabeth." He said. "What brings you in today?"

Queen Elizabeth rose from the chair and stepped towards him. She gave him an up-and-down look before she closed her eyes and smiled. "I shall forgive your tardiness," She declared. "For now I have a matter I want to discuss with you."

The Commander passed by Queen Elizabeth, ambled to his seat and sat down. He pushed the stack of papers on his desk to the side. "Of course, what will it be?"

Queen Elizabeth curled her lips. "Servant, it has come to my attention that the monthly roster for your secretary list lacks adequate representation from the Royal Navy. In fact, if memory serves me right, the last appointment of one of my subjects into such a noble position was held over one year ago. Can you explain yourself for overlooking such a simple task?"

The Commander furrowed his brows. "Fair point. I'll get to it once I've finished today's work."

As he was about to take a paper from the stack, Queen Elizabeth slapped his hand away.

"No, servant. I believe now is the time to alleviate such an oversight."

At Queen Elizabeth's command, Sheffield and Dido opened the door bringing with them a velvet box trimmed with gold lacing. They set it on the desk causing some papers flying.

"This, servant," Queen Elizabeth said. "Is a ballot box, filled with the names of the Royal Navy's finest. We shall let fate decide who gets to fill in the position. Only fair that way, wouldn't you agree?"

The Commander blinked and stared at the red box.

If it gets her to calm down and leave his office then it might be worth considering.

"Well?" Queen Elizabeth pouted.

The Commander looked at Queen Elizabeth then at the box. "Alright, I'll do as you say."

Queen Elizabeth smiled. "Naturally."

Opening the box's lid, the Commander plunged his hand in. The smooth edges of the papers brushed against his palm as he pulled out a slip and unfolded it.

The words were elegantly written.

Howe

Queen Elizabeth leaned forward to peek. "Howe? Wonderful choice. You may find her very agreeable and elegant to boot. I shall see to it that it be announced."

The Commander stared at the paper.

Howe...Howe...

Wasn't she one of King George V's sisters?

He'd seen her before once or twice in some meetings or fleet exercises but that was it. He never got a chance to speak with her, heck to most of his shipgirls. Always busy, he locked himself in his office to work, so only those who became his secretary or those who are extremely sociable became his associates. The reserved or obscure ones, he barely gets to meet.

The Commander put back the paper in the box which Sheffield and Dido promptly removed from his desk.

"Well then servant," Queen Elizabeth expressed. "This has been a nice meeting to remedy your rather lack of sensibility towards the Royal Navy."

She turned around with a flourish, chin up. "But as much as I would like to congratulate you on your new acquaintance, I'm afraid I have matters to attend to."

As she promenaded her way to the door, Belfast opened it letting Sheffield, Dido and Queen Elizabeth pass through.

"Oh and Bel kindly watch over my servant before Howe comes." Queen Elizabeth glanced back, smirking. "My servant, it seems, desperately needs company since Lady Mikasa has been away."

The Commander turned away, his arms folded.

"As you wish your Majesty." Belfast responded.

And with that the door shut.

The Commander looked at Belfast and sighed. "How long were you two in my office before I came in?"

Belfast stepped towards his desk. "Not long Master. Just a few minutes or so. Would you like me to make you some tea?"

The Commander motioned his hand. "That won't be necessary, I had some earlier."

"Then would you like me to prepare the office for Howe's arrival?" Belfast hinted at the mess of papers around his desk to which the Commander pinched the bridge of his nose.

"That would be appreciated."

Leaning back in his chair, the Commander stroked his chin as Belfast picked up the papers and set it on his desk. "Belfast, do you know what kind of shipgirl Howe is?"

Belfast stacked up the papers and looked at him. "A very humble and courteous lady, Lady Howe could do much for you in terms of diligence and company. One could describe her as modest yet determined, kind yet strong. Fitting for the position."

The Commander leaned forward and nodded. "I hope she's not one to barge into offices and deliver red boxes. I'm not sure if I could handle the mess left afterwards."

Belfast smiled a little. "Not likely Master. Lady Howe is known to respect boundaries. She wouldn't dare to dishonor your privacy let alone act as Her Majesty does. She is a well-mannered lady, one you should really meet."

Belfast finished stacking the remaining papers. "There you are Master."

The Commander reached for the top paper and laid it on his desk. "Thank you Belfast."

Chapter Text

Howe lay still on her bed, sunlight glowing her features. As her body hugged the sheets, her lashes rose slowly, eyes opening. She let out a quiet yawn before she sat up and stretched.

The chilly morning air lingered, creeping up to her skin. Nevertheless, Howe swung her legs to the floor—cold and smooth. She found her slippers and minced toward her dressing table. There she put on her robe and brushed her light blonde hair with slow, deliberate strokes.

Once her hair had been untangled, she set down her brush and examined herself in the mirror. Her pale blue eyes shimmered while her smooth face showed no trace of marks. She smiled softly, her golden hair flowing over her shoulders like strands of silk.

After straightening her eyelashes and wiping her face, she stepped towards the bath where she took a shower.

Warm water dripped overhead, washing away the last traces of sleep. She let her muscles relax, her mind quieted by the steady rhythm of water flowing from the faucet. But after a while she let out a sigh.

The day had just begun and with it the expectations of being a lady.

Once showering was done, she brushed her hair once more, straightening them with practiced strokes. The moist clung to the brush which released her hair's floral sweetness in the air. It filled the room with her fragrance.

Her crimson dress fit her tightly, accentuating her slender frame. The fur collar snuggled around her neck and on her shoulders, befitting of her elegance. And to finish it off, she wore a black pantyhose which subtly emphasized her curves.

After spraying perfume to her wrists and neck, she looked at herself in the mirror once more.

No trace of doubt, no trace of disorder. Just perfection.

Howe stood up and stepped into the hall.

Her sisters waited.

_

Arriving at the dining table, Howe found her sisters King George V and Prince of Wales already seated—posture straight—and eating in silence. King George V seated herself at the head of the table while Prince of Wales flanked her right side. They had eggs and toast on their plate. Behind them, Newcastle and Hermione stood silently, arms clasped in front of them.

"Good morning Hermione, Newcastle." Howe smiled, stepping to her seat.

Both maids gave a low curtsy.

"Good morning, Lady Howe." Newcastle said.

"Shall I ready your food?" Hermione asked.

Howe sat down at the second seat to King George V's left.

"Please do." Howe responded. "Thank you."

Hermione bowed and fetched a silver platter filled with the same eggs and toast. She set it down in front of Howe while Newcastle poured down fresh tea to her cup.

Howe lifted up the cup and took a sip.

Warm.

She set it down and reached for the silverware.

"Good morning Wales, George." Howe said before she knifed a slice of egg and forked it.

"Morning Howe." Prince of Wales responded, eating her toast.

King George V only glanced up before turning to her food again.

Howe ate the egg—soft and crispy. She took a bite of the toast and sipped her tea.

After a considerable while, footsteps echoed from the hallway. Howe, while she chewed, and Prince of Wales, who sipped her tea, glanced at the doorway. There Duke of York appeared, her hair partially done and dress with uneven tucks. She smiled.

"You're late." King George V bellowed.

Duke of York let out a yawn as she stepped towards her seat next to Howe. "Sister, breakfast seldom flees." She took her seat.

Newcastle set out a plate with the same meal for her while Hermione poured in tea to her cup.

As the tea poured, King George V set down her fork which made her plate clink. "York, this is the third time this week. Might I remind you that you are an esteemed lady of the Royal Navy and that your actions must set an example for others else you belittle our cause."

Duke of York shrugged as she started her meal. "Then thy cause ought to be the one ill belated."

"Sit up straight." King George V commanded.

Duke of York glanced at King George V as she put the toast in her mouth. She slowly straightened her posture and stopped when it was technically but not fully straight. "As you wish, my sister."

King George V returned to her food shaking her head.

The clinking of silverware on porcelain continued until Howe took a sip of her tea and set her cup down.

"Wasn't it today that Her Majesty was supposed to visit the Commander to petition for a Royal Navy secretary?" Howe asked.

Prince of Wales looked up from her plate. "It is. Some kind of ballot she proposed. George what do you think?"

King George V set down her fork and knife and wiped her face with a napkin. "As per Her Majesty's words, a ballot was prepared for the Commander to determine a Royal Navy candidate for the secretary position. All members of the Royal Navy were made eligible and to prevent favoritism the Commander is to pick at random."

Duke of York sipped her tea. "How now, does Her Majesty dote her games. To be picked by the hand of fate—what a delightful way to tease my prey." Her smile lingered as she set down her cup.

Howe leaned forward to glance at King George V. "Wouldn't that mean there's a chance that one of us get chosen."

"Yes and that is why I must emphasize the weight of our roles." King George V said. "As ladies of the Royal Navy we must embody its values—dutiful, dignified and disciplined. We must show the Commander that the Royal Navy is not a faction ruled by fists alone but by grace, elegance and order."

King George V scrutinized each of her sisters: Prince of Wales, Howe, then Duke of York. "This is not a matter of preference or choice," King George V continued. "This is what is expected of us, our duty for the Royal Navy and Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth."

The room grew silent. King George V went back to her meal, slicing a piece of toast. Her sisters sat quietly. Howe especially, lowered her gaze, her hands resting on her lap.

What her sister said was true. They had expectations to fulfill and their faction rested on their shoulders. Even still Howe felt something tug at her. It was delicate but insistent like a string of yarn being pulled by a kitten.

She knew the weight of their responsibility and yet a part of her resisted. Not out of defiance but something quieter—an ache to be without expectation, an ache to be just herself.

Howe sighed quietly as she stared at her reflection in the tea. The reflection showed a lady who was beautiful, well-composed and dutiful, but as the table gently shook, the ripples distorted the image.

After a few minutes, King George V finished the last bits of her meal and stood up. "I'll be off now. Sisters do your best."

With a nod to Newcastle and Hermoine, King George V strode out the room.

Prince of Wales too set down her fork and wiped her face with a napkin. "I suppose I should get going aswell." She stood up. "Howe, York try to do as George says."

And with graceful steps, Prince of Wales left.

Leaning back in her chair, Duke of York let out a groan. "O how our sisters play their roles. Such marvelous... maidens. If only they let their titles reveal their true character."

She turned to Howe with a mock grin. "But that shan't keep the guesser guessing."

As Howe looked at her, Duke of York stood up and stepped to the doorway. "I shall be off. Howe dost try not be allured by thy reflection in thy tea."

Her cape swept behind, Duke of York exited the room leaving Howe seated alone.

Howe glanced around the empty seats and at the dishware left by her sisters. Her own cup remained, showing her reflection once more.

Silenced settled before Newcastle and Hermione began clearing the table of the dishware.

"May I, Lady Howe?" Newcastle asked, motioning to Howe's plate.

Howe looked up. "Oh, yes. I'm sorry."

She stood up, smoothed the front of her dress, and stepped into the hall.

Behind the shadows of her sisters Howe followed.

Chapter Text

Howe descended the stairs to the dorm's vestibule. There on the sofas, a few shipgirls sat chatting or were on their phones. The mix of perfume lingered in the air. She passed by them with a nod, smiling at each turn.

At the doorway, King George V stood, arms folded.

Howe stepped towards her. "George you didn't have to wait for me." Howe said. "I can walk on my own."

King George V smiled. "I know, but it's my duty to keep you company. We're sisters after all."

Howe pouted. "But you don't do this to Wales or York."

King George V chuckled as she opened the door. "You're special. Besides, they're not as endearing as you."

Howe rolled her eyes and stepped outside. "Oh please. Just because I'm the youngest doesn't mean you get to pamper me."

King George V followed her out, their steps clicking against the paved pathway. Morning sunlight glowed around them, brightening their concrete surroundings yellow. While the breeze blew by their faces, making the hems of their skirts and King George V's cape flutter.

"Well I can't help it, Howe," King George V said. "It's an older sister's instinct."

Howe sighed, brushing a strand of her hair behind her face. "Well hush it down. People are going to think I'm some kind of damsel instead of a battleship."

King George V gave a low giggle. "Aren't you?"

Howe blinked. "George!"

After a few chuckles from King George V where Howe nudged her arm, they strolled side-by-side through the port's plaza headed towards the main building. On their way, the cherry blossoms swayed overhead while the breeze gusted, spreading a sweet fruity fragrance in the air. Shipgirls from different factions ambled along with them. Some were from the Sakura Empire, their animal-like ears and tails swinging with them. Others were from the Eagle Union with their more casual uniforms and cheery manners. There were more from the Ironblood, Dragon Empery and others, but for now they greeted some from the Royal Navy who were kind enough to address them.

"Greetings Lady George!" Beagle beamed while Bulldog followed her behind.

"Greetings Lady George." Bulldog said.

Howe smiled. "Good morning Beagle, Bulldog."

"Greetings." George nodded gracefully.

They passed by, though Howe glanced at them behind, her lips pressed.

"Kn-Knight Commander George," Blurted Swiftsure as she bowed. "Good morning!"

"At ease, Swiftsure," King George V said. "We're not on inspection."

"Y-Yes. Haha..."

"Good morning, Swiftsure." Howe smiled, though Swiftsure had already turned away before she could see Howe's smile.

"Elder George!" Centaur scurried towards them. "It's been a long time since I've seen you."

King George V turned to her. "Oh? Then I'm glad we crossed paths."

"Yes," Centaur responded. "Even if it's been a while, I still strive to embody what my Elders show me, especially you Elder George."

"Good to hear." King George V said.

"Good morning, Centaur," Beamed Howe. "I hope I could be an ideal Elder to you too."

Centaur turned to Howe. "Oh. Hello Elder Howe."

She turned back to King George V. "It's been good seeing you Elder George. I'll be sure to double my efforts to learn what my Elders teach me."

As Centaur scampered away, King George V waved at her goodbye. Howe on the other hand lowered her gaze.

Was that all? Not even a smile in return?

Howe's face shaded as she turned to King George V. Her sister's blonde hair swayed like threads of gold with the wind while her red eyes shone as rubies. She smiled confidently. One that was measured with practice and refinement opposed to Howe's more warmer carefree smile. And her brilliant knight's uniform—a red coat and white blouse with gold epaulettes to her shoulders and ornaments to her breasts—carried the mixed weight of authority with regality which brought confidence among her followers.

Howe couldn't help but press her lips together, staring at her sister before she noticed.

"Is something on my face, Howe?" King George V asked.

Howe swiftly turned away. "No, nothing."

"Then you shouldn't stare. It's rude."

"S-Sorry." Howe looked down.

They strolled past the fountain with the gleaming golden anchor and turned right where the facade of the main building stood. There at the announcement board, a crowd gathered.

"George, what do you think has been announced?" Howe squinted then her pupils dilated. "Could it be the Commander's next secretary?"

King George V shrugged. "Let's see."

As Howe and King George V neared the crowd hushed whispers filled the air. Occasionally some shipgirls would turn to look at them their gaze lingering a bit longer on Howe then they would turn to their friends and talk behind their hands. It became more noticeable as they drew closer but Howe put no mind to them. King George V on the other hand stared back at the girls who dared to look at them.

"Have you seen? I can't believe it..." The girls said.

"Well I'll be darned. He finally chose someone from the Royal Navy..." A shipgirl in a black bikini top and short shorts remarked.

"Huh? What do you mean I look disappointed. It's not like I care or anything..." A girl—probably from Ironblood—with a gray and red uniform scoffed.

"I SWEAR if I find out who she is I'll..." Grumbled a woman with brown fox ears and many twitching tails.

The conversations grew louder as the sisters crossed through the crowd. Until eventually they came up to the board where it was evident that Queen Elizabeth's decree was posted:

By Her Majesty's proclamation, a member of the Royal Navy is to represent our glorious faction in whole regarding this month's position of Her Servant's secretary.

Through a ballot—brilliantly proposed by Her Majesty herself—a representative has been chosen— Howe is to embody to Her Servant of the Royal Navy's values and insights as well as to guide him in his occupation as the Commander of Azur Lane.

Her Majesty sends her best regards in this union and hopes both parties will benefit in this arrangement through mutual understanding and shared support.

Signed,
Queen Elizabeth

Approved by,
The Commander

Howe's eyes grew wide. She leaned in closer to reread the post:

Howe is to...guide him in his occupation as the Commander of Azur Lane...

"M-Me?" Howe murmured, her heart sank as her lips parted.

"Is that her?" Some girl whispered behind. "The one beside King George V? She doesn't look like her sister..."

"Phew, good thing she's not like her sister," another sighed. "The Commander might go harsh on us otherwise."

Howe frowned, glancing back at the whispers. She lowered her gaze, slowly turning to her sister who stood still beside her, expression unreadable.

"George does this mean..."

King George V turned to Howe, her gaze sharp. "I congratulate you Howe. It's not everyday that one of our class gets chosen..."

She placed her hands on Howe's shoulders, gripping them. "Even so you must not take your new role lightly. Our faction depends on you now; you must do your best to uphold our prestigious image. Show the Commander what we're made of."

Howe stared into her sister's eyes. They were like red bricks—solid, firm and rugged with determination.

"I will." Howe affirmed, though something tugged at her heart.

"Good. Any answer less and I would have left you standing here and now."

King George V grabbed Howe's wrist and pulled her towards the main building entrance. Howe's eyes widened as she pulled back.

"H-hey, George! What are you doing?" Howe squealed.

Her sister turned to her. "Why, I'm going to introduce you to the Commander. Come on."

As King George V stepped forward holding Howe's arm, some shipgirls giggled behind. Howe noticed and tugged her arm back.

"I can do it on my own. You don't need to help me."

King George V stared at Howe, tilting her head. "What? Howe this is a matter of importance. You are to meet the Commander for the first time. I can't have you mincing in there and batting your eyelashes at him. You need a proper introduction—something I could give. Come now, I'll show you the way."

Her sister grabbed her arm again and strutted towards the entrance. This time Howe followed.

"George..." Howe mumbled, her gaze downward.

Behind them the constant giggling of the shipgirls. At times, Howe couldn't help but look back at the crowd.

If only her sister didn't treat her like a child.

Chapter Text

Once the Commander signed another report, he stretched his arms and cracked his knuckles. A portion of the papers were done, stacked to the left side of his desk while the unfinished ones loomed to his right. The clock ticked. He leaned back in his chair as Belfast offered him a plate with a cup of tea.

"Tea, Master?"

He nodded. "Yes, thank you Belfast."

Belfast set down the tea on his desk as the Commander reached for it and took a sip—warm and sweet. He closed his eyes, preserving the flavour in his tongue. Then a face flashed at him—Howe.

He took in a breath and sighed.

He knew her sisters well: the regal King George V, the popular Prince of Wales and the mischievous Duke of York. Two of them becoming his secretary at one point.

King George V through the constant insistence of Queen Elizabeth. It was during a Royal Navy grand tea party where she had sang praises about George the whole night—without stop—stating that 'an official partnership between High Command and the Royal Navy is necessary' and that 'it shall boost faction cooperation and morale'. He relented in the end to stop hearing Queen Elizabeth's constant high-pitch voice.

Duke of York through a drunken night's party where Aegir, Prinz Eugen and York herself dared him to drink a bottle of wine. After much pressure he acquiesced—which in hindsight wasn't the best of ideas—and gulped down the bottle in one go. Everything became a blur after that and the next thing he knew he woke up in Duke of York's room his head violently throbbing. Apparently, during that night he had slurred the words "Yorkie...be my secretary...." as he drawled his signature on the official paper and collapsed on her lap.

Prince of Wales he knew after many meetings and exercises. It helped that her name would come up in a lot of conversations especially with Prinz Eugen, New Jersey, Enterprise, Bismarck, Nagato, Akagi and more. He knew her to be graceful and composed much like King George V but less so in terms of comparing them; like a tamer version of her.

So in terms of Howe's personality, he expected her to be either formal and stern like King George V and Prince of Wales or teasing and wayward as Duke of York.

The Commander set down the cup and glanced around the room—Belfast swept the floor with a broom in her usual precise manner. The sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting the red floor a glow of yellow with a trail of dust in the air. Brushing against the floor, the broom whisked as Belfast glided around.

"Belfast," the Commander said. "When is Howe going arrive?"

Belfast glanced up. "Not too long now. She should be arriving soon."

The Commander leaned forward. "Could you explain to me what she's like again? I don't want to have the wrong impression of her."

"Imagine it like this," Belfast explained. "Do you know the fountain outside with the gleaming anchor?"

"Yes."

"Well she's like the plinth of the whole structure. While others shine she stands proudly at the base supporting them."

The Commander stroked his chin. "I see, so like a humble advocate?"

Belfast smiled. "You'll see soon enough."

The whisking continued as the Commander leaned back in his chair and stared past the tall windows to the swaying cherry blossoms outside. The petals—it reminded him of the Sakura Empire, especially her...

Mikasa.

They had sat on the sofa together, in front of them a fresh stack of papers delivered from the factions' residences. As he explained to her how they would handle the unexpected workload, the orange sunlight fell on her features. She stared at him, her eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed together.

"Wait, let me stop you for a moment," She had said. "You look...tired."

The Commander paused, blinking away his heavy eyelids. He shook his head. "No, I'm fine. We just have to finish these last ones then we can call it a day."

As he reached for a paper Mikasa gently pulled it away from him.

"Mikasa, I—"

"Shhh." She placed a finger to his lips. "You need to rest. It's been a couple of hours since you had a break now. I can't let you overwork yourself. Stay put, I'll make you some tea."

Mikasa rose and stepped outside into the hall. As she went, the Commander touched the part of his lips where Mikasa had laid her finger on—the warmth lingered.

When she returned, she laid down a cup on the table and filled it with tea from the kettle. The liquid flowed down, dripping into the cup. From his viewpoint, the ripples spread cleanly outward as if petals of a flower bloomed.

"Here, drink this." Mikasa said as she offered him the cup. "No work until you've finished."

The Commander stared at Mikasa. Mikasa's lips contorted into a soft smile while her whole face glowed with sunlight.

"If you insist."

She had sat beside him that afternoon, silently waiting for him to finish his tea.

As he watched the petals swirl down the trees, the memory slowly faded like steam evaporating.

He turned to Belfast—who by now was at the other corner of the room—and then to the stack of papers to his right. The Commander sighed. No one will get this finished if he doesn't. He reached for a paper and set it down his desk. But before he could start, a knock came from the door.

Chapter Text

The knock came.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Both the Commander and Belfast perked, staring at each other then at the door.

"That must be her." The Commander said.

He stood up, running a hand to his hair as Belfast set down her broom and stepped to the door. She partially opened it enough to glimpse outside.

"Belfast...is it her?" The Commander asked.

Belfast looked at him over her shoulders, pressing her lips together before turning back to the opened slip. In her precise gestures, Belfast whispered something to the person outside, her body flickering in sudden movements unusual of her. Eventually she just sighed and opened the door.

King George V strode in, posture straight. Her crimson uniform illuminated by the sunlight as the medals pinned to her chest clinked. She held her chin up and gazed around the room, her red gaze landing on each imperfection in the room before they landed squarely on the Commander. She smiled.

"Well if it isn't the ever-dedicated Commander." King George V jibed. "How's it been?"

The Commander tilted his head, smelling King George V's sharp scented perfume. "It's been well George. I didn't know you were going to show up this morning. I'm surprised."

King George V shrugged. "Well things have turned rather differently. Especially the news this morning. I'm sure you have something to tell me about."

"Oh? So you've already heard? That was quick." The Commander's gaze briefly turned to Belfast who faintly smiled. "Is your sister aware?"

King George V nodded. "Just as I am. In fact I'm here to introduce her to you. Howe come in."

Behind King George V's shadow a woman stepped forward dressed in a crimson coat with a fur lining around her neck. Her face glowed as she entered, her light blonde hair falling like silk over her shoulders. She scanned the room with wide, pale blue eyes and when her gaze met his, her lips curved into a soft, delicate smile—one that made the Commander's heart skip a beat.

"It's a pleasure meeting you, Commander." She said, curtsying. "I'm Howe of the King George V-class. I hope we can build a healthy relationship."

The Commander stared at her for longer than necessary. His eyes dilated before he shook his head and stepped towards her. "Yes, likewise Howe. It's a pleasure meeting you."

As he shook Howe's hands and smelled her floral perfume, the Commander's cheeks grew hot and he cursed himself for feeling this.

"Howe, what did I tell you?" King George V said. "I'm the one who's supposed to introduce you not yourself."

Howe glanced at her sister, her brows knitted. She then gazed to the floor and took a step backward. "Sorry George."

"Pardon the informality Commander," King George V apologized. "Howe is a bit enthusiastic in meeting you. I hope this doesn't affect your impression on her."

The Commander glanced at King George V then at Howe, then at King George V again. "No not at all. If anything it shows her initiative. I admire that." He looked at Howe through the corner of his eye, this time noticing a faint smile on her lips.

"Then I trust that you'll take care of my sister." King George V said. "Do be gentle with her. She's rather delicate in expressing herself."

"George..." Howe muttered.

"I'll keep that in mind." The Commander said, briefly glancing at Howe.

King George V chuckled. "Will today be her first day or...."

The Commander shook his head. "Oh no, not today. I don't want her to feel rushed. She could have the day off to prepare herself. Belfast will be my secretary for the day. Then tomorrow Howe could start."

King George V nodded with a smile. "Still lenient to your shipgirls I see. You haven't changed one bit. Well we'll leave you to it then. It's been nice seeing you again Commander."

"You too George."

King George V turned, her cape sweeping up from behind. As King George V stepped out, Howe and the Commander stared at each other for a moment, their gaze locking as if unsure what to say. After a while Howe gave out a smile and curtsied. "Nice meeting you Commander." She turned and followed King George V outside.

"Likewise." The Commander said, though the door had already shut before he said it.

Turning to Belfast, he let out a deep sigh and stepped back to his desk chair.

"That was her?" The Commander asked as he sat.

Belfast smiled and nodded. "A rather courteous lady don't you think?"

The Commander scoffed. "If courteous means getting pampered by her sister then she's plenty that."

"My, but your eyes begged to differ, Master. It seemed you had quite a liking for her."

The Commander let out a chuckle. "Oh Belfast. Help me with today's work instead of teasing me."

Belfast stepped towards the desk. "As you wish, Master."

Chapter Text

Howe caught up to King George V, her face blushed and head lowered as they ambled along the wood-paneled halls.

She had never properly met the Commander before. From what she heard he was a strict and calculating leader—the man who united the different factions under Azur Lane and masterminded victories against the Sirens. So meeting him for the first time today shattered that image. Just what else were she wrong about him?

But as she thought this, King George V turned to her.

"So," King George V said. "What did you think of him?"

"The Commander?" Howe's blush deepened. "He seemed kind, polite, far from what I thought him to be."

King George V raised an eyebrow. "Oh? How so?"

"Well, the way you praised him as some kind of military genius I thought him to be cunning and charismatic but he seemed..."

"Normal?"

"Yes...normal."

They passed by a couple of shipgirls who offered gentle nods at them.

"George, was he always like that?"

"Well the greatest of leaders often understood the burdens of those who they lead. They're not some distant observer who stands by when their followers need them the most. They lead by example, listen attentively and care. Sure the Commander has a brilliant mind but what sets him apart from others is how he can be genuine even when in command."

Howe slowed her pace, her brows furrowing.

She tried to recall the Commander's smile when she entered. His eyes lingering on her for a second too long making her blush and greet him prematurely. They had stared at each other for a while before King George V broke the silence.

Howe crossed her arms and huffed.

"Well speaking of the Commander," She grumbled. "You shouldn't have embarrassed me in front of him back then. I really wanted to make a good first impression on him and I'm afraid all he thinks about me now is how you pamper me like a little girl."

King George V chuckled. "I told you Howe it's an older sister's instinct. I just wanted to make sure he takes care of you. Not that he'll do anything bad to you, but just to let him know how delicate you can be sometimes."

Howe pouted. "I'm not delicate."

"You are now."

"George!"

Howe elbowed King George V who laughed continuously. After a while King George V calmed down, wiping her eyes.

"Oh Howe you're so cute when you get flustered. The Commander ought to see you like this."

Howe's pursed her lips even more. It didn't help that they passed another pair of shipgirls who stared at them as if they wore clown suits.

"George stop it. I am not delicate, and the Commander mustn't see me like this or he'll..." Howe paused. "...think I'm weak."

King George V's playful smile faded, replaced by a frown. "Howe, you're many things, but weak isn't one of them. Believe me when I say to you that you're one of the people I've known who've proven yourself as capable. You know how to fight, to work, to bake, to live as a dignified lady. You're everything we've strived for as shipgirls, especially of the Royal Navy. All these thoughts of you being weak and incapable are hogwash, don't entertain them. And the Commander? He's a perceptive man. He'll see you for who you truly are, not as someone who gets doted by her older sister—although I wish you'd accept that—but as someone who matters, someone who's, well...you."

She smirked, her red eyes glinting. "And besides, the way he looked at you, it seems you already have a head start."

Howe blushed and averted her gaze. "A head start? Oh, George!"

She gave her sister another playful elbow nudge. "What you said might be true, but it doesn't stop others from belittling me, the Commander included. He may be polite but I saw how he looked at me earlier. The way he stared at me after you spoke. It dripped of amusement."

"Oh? Is that doubt I hear?" King George V chuckled. "Perhaps, but I know one thing for certain Howe and that is the Commander is also delicate. Behind that mask of his, lies something he doesn't want to admit. It was subtle at first but when you get to know him it becomes apparent that he yearns for something more than work."

Howe blinked. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that the Commander has his tendency to isolate himself from us. He acts as this strong, confident leader but he's anything but. I know it sounds odd but trust me, I've seen it countless times."

King George V sighed. "It concerns me sometimes you know. It's like he has this own world he keeps to himself. Even with all the attention he gets from us, there's something about his eyes that makes you want to pity him."

"Oh... I see." Howe glanced down, her eyes dimming. "I suppose I had the wrong impression of him all along."

King George V's brows relaxed, a smile tugging at her lips. "We all did but this time it's your turn to learn more about him."

They stopped in front of a brass double door and King George V put her hands on Howe's shoulders. "Treat him well Howe he does get a bit aloof sometimes."

With a nod, King George V opened the doors and entered the planning room. The doors shut leaving Howe outside.

"The Commander is also delicate..." Howe murmured.

True or not, it doesn't stop the fact that she was still seen as dainty by everyone. If she wanted to end that nonsense and be treated as her sisters then she needed a way to show everyone that she can be dependable and strong like them. And what a better opportunity than to prove herself to be a capable secretary to the Commander.

A small smile bloomed on Howe's face as she ambled to the kitchen.

Tomorrow will be different.

Chapter Text

The beeping alarm clock—it made the Commander turn over and smack it with his palm. Once it shut, he lay flat on his bed, staring at the ceiling. White drywall stared back at him. Its smooth, clean texture displayed like a miniature cloud sky.

He blinked, yawning at first then he leaned forward. His sheets hugged him like sheep wool, protecting him from the chilly morning air and the mattress tangled him down like ivy vines. Eventually he shook his head, sat up and stretched.

Today his new secretary worked. Now was not the day to sleep in and be late. As the Commander he needed to lead by example or his shipgirls might not respect him.

_

At the cafeteria, he sat alone again.

This time's breakfast, courtesy of the Sardegna Empire, bread with different spreads like butter, jam, cheese and chocolate. There was also cornetto and coffee. As the Commander bit a slice of bread with jam, the chatter in the background turned into an indistinct hum and he stared at the windows where sunlight poured in.

Whenever it was the day where a new secretary would start their shift, giddiness stirred inside his stomach. His mind staged different scenarios, from their first greetings, to the times they spent together. In his head, the secretary showed enthusiasm. She'd smile warmly, her uniform tucked and prim, her hair well kept and brushed, and her perfume fragrant but not too sharp. From then on he'd imagine how they'd share piles of documents together, how they'd potentially have some conversations , how she'd ask him questions and maybe laugh at his jokes.

However, reality proved him otherwise. Some secretaries arrived late, their uniforms unkempt and hair messy. Others acted passive towards him. They'd be too formal or shy for him to speak to and when they did it was always awkward.

Because of this, he found it easier if he just brought his hopes down and maintain a bit of distance. Besides, he was their Commander. They needed him focused, not distracted by daydreams.

The Commander shook his head, swallowing the last bite of the bread. He sipped his coffee and glanced at the clock—It was almost time. Finishing what's left on his plate, the giddiness stirred again. This time it was about that woman he met yesterday—Howe.

Based on what he saw, she had potential to be a good secretary. Yet one has to wonder why it seemed that her sister did everything for her. Was she truly the lady she seemed to be or was there something else beneath the surface?

The Commander's thoughts flashed back to Duke of York and Akagi. How they initially acted like ideal secretaries until their true colours settled in.

He sighed.

Perhaps she'll be different, perhaps not. Either way he had to see it for himself.

Gulping down the last sip of his coffee, the Commander cleared his tray and stood up. He ambled towards his office.

_

Within the hallway, the Commander stepped ahead. His officer boots thudded on the floor, signifying his presence. On turning to the next hall, he briefly stopped, his eyes widening.

There she was—Howe.

Underneath her black boater hat, her blonde, flowing hair fell behind her shoulders like a golden waterfall. Her wide pale blue eyes surveyed the surroundings, shining like blue pearls. On her black halter top a red ribbon brooch gleamed, while her red plaid dress made her stand out like a rose. Her shoulders were left bare revealing pastel healthy skin. At her side, a stark white purse with a golden lock. And her legwear consisted of black stockings paired with black ankle boots and red laces to her feet.

On seeing him, she curved her lips into a warm smile just as she did yesterday. "Good morning, Commander. Ready to work?"

The Commander scrutinized her a bit longer, before he shook his head. "You're early today." He stepped towards his office door.

Howe nodded, moving aside. "Of course, I wouldn't want to keep you waiting."

As the Commander passed by her, a floral scent brushed against him. She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and when he glanced at her briefly, he swore her eyelashes rose delicately up-and-down as she blinked.

The Commander turned his gaze to the door, but he watched her in the corner of his eye. He unlocked it.

"Is your sister with you?" He asked.

Howe's smile wavered, her lips parting before she spoke. "No. Why do you ask?"

The Commander paused. So she wasn't always with her sister. Clearing his throat, he stepped inside his office where the smell of fresh papers lingered in the air. Howe followed behind.

"Um, Commander, wait." Howe said, tapping his shoulders.

The Commander turned as she opened her purse, revealing a cello bag filled with different types of cookies. "Here, I made you some cookies."

He blinked, staring at her then the cello bag before taking it. Their hands brushed slightly. "Thank you."

Howe quickly withdrew her hand as she smiled again. "My pleasure. I didn't know what you liked so I made different types for you. Do try them and if you'd like tell me what your favorite is that way I can make more of them for you."

The Commander couldn't help but smile. Maybe he was wrong about her being pampered. "I will." He turned again and stepped towards his seat. A pile of papers waited for him.

At the front of the desk, Howe stood, her hands clasped in front of her. She shifted her weight from one leg to another, staring at the Commander with those arctic blue eyes.

The Commander exhaled. "Why don't we start with organizing the documents first. I'll give you half of this pile and you sort them out on the sofa. Sounds good?"

Howe nodded. "Of course."

Splitting the stack of papers, he stood up and crossed the room to the coffee table in front of the light goldenrod sofa.

As he set the papers down, Howe sat down and smiled. "Thank you."

The Commander lingered for a second longer before he smiled in return. "If you need help I'll just be at my desk."

"Understood." She tucked her hair behind her, already grabbing a paper from the stack.

Stepping back to his seat, the Commander couldn't help but glance back. Sunlight caught on her hair as she knitted her brow, moving the documents in practiced motions. Was this how she naturally is, or was this an initial facade? The Commander sighed. It's still early to tell. Once he leaned back in his chair, he started signing his pile of the papers.

_

A few minutes passed by like this where pen scratched against paper and documents were shuffled into stacks. Occasionally the Commander would drift from his documents and glance up at Howe.

She's been focused on her work this entire time, her hands moving deftly and her gaze never leaving the files. Sometimes she'd bite her lip and hold one paper up to her eyes, reading the labels carefully before putting it into a neat stack. Other times she'd tilt her head and shuffle back to the documents she'd organized as if catching herself make a mistake.

It made the Commander quietly chuckle.

"Commander?" Howe said, glancing back at him.

The Commander flinched. "Y-Yes?"

"Is there something you would like me to do?"

The Commander paused, his brows furrowing before he realized he had been staring at her this whole time. He blushed while scratching his head. "O-Oh, no...just...just checking on you. Please, continue with your work."

Howe pressed her lips together, her wide eyes scrutinizing him as if he'd done something wrong. "Alright then." She turned to her work though he swore that she kept watching him with corner of her eye.

Great, now he comes across as weird.

Eventually, he just held his breath together and sighed. Only a few shipgirls managed to make him this flustered and those who did did it intentionally, often teasing him. The Commander turned to the windows. But this was different. This seemed more personal.

He shook his head. It can't be. She's still new, maybe he's just overthinking things. But as he thought this, his eyes landed on Howe again, though this time he caught her staring at him. Their eyes briefly met before Howe looked away.

The Commander tilted his head. Now she was looking at him?

As if it couldn't get any worse Howe took a breath and spoke up. "Is everything going great so far, Commander?" She asked, demurely glancing at him.

The Commander blushed slightly, before he forced a smile. "Yes. Of course, you're doing a good job. Keep up the good work."

Her gaze lingered on him longer than he liked. When she finally looked away the Commander couldn't help but sigh.

_

As the sun finally began to dip in the horizon and the amount of papers to sign grew thin, the Commander stretched his arms and cracked his knuckles. Today's work had gone a lot easier than expected. Usually it would have taken him an hour or two longer if it were just him working but with Howe's help, the papers seemed to have disappeared rather quickly.

Settling down, the Commander glanced up at Howe who sorted out the last remaining papers.

"I'm finished Commander," Howe said, wiping her forehead. "Would you like me to get these delivered to Akashi now?"

The Commander nodded. "Of course. Her office is down the hall to the left. Make sure to tell her she'll have to do better with the discounts or she'll lose a valuable customer."

Howe giggled softly. "I will." She then carried the stack of papers to a cart and pushed it out the room.

Once the door shut, silence crept up again, silence the Commander sighed at.

Howe had done well as her first day. Despite the initial awkwardness they had worked well together. There were no complaints and setbacks on her part, just focus, diligence and her warm quiet presence, something the Commander liked.

Though, now with her momentarily gone, the Commander couldn't help but lean back in his chair and stare at the sofa. The cushions where she sat were still dipped and her faint floral scent still lingered in the air. He wondered if she had liked the idea of suddenly being chosen as his new secretary or whether if she was just enduring this for her faction's sake, displaying a facade she could hide behind. He still didn't know her well so these thoughts only amplified in his mind.

Still, the way she smiled at him and offered him cookies, she seemed like the genuine type. It helped that he still remembered the praise from Belfast and King George V.

"One could describe her as modest yet determined, kind yet strong."

"She's rather delicate in expressing herself."

So maybe she's still adjusting to the change and that soon enough he'll see her for who she truly is. The Commander sighed and reached for the cello bag on his desk. it's still the first day he shouldn't get wrapped about these things and he had to act professional.

Taking a bite of a cookie, his eyes grew wide as the cookie crunched under his teeth. These were actually good.

The Commander tasted the variety of cookies from chocolate chips, peanut butter and oatmeal raisin to almond, snickerdoodles and sugar cookies.

He munched on and on and before he knew it he emptied the cello bag, leaving only the crumbs of sugar, nuts and chocolate chips.

When Howe returned, she caught him eyes closed, smiling and a hand to his stomach. Howe briefly glanced at the empty cello bag before she looked back at him.

"I'm glad you liked them Commander," Howe said, smiling and closing the door.

The Commander swiftly opened his eyes and cleared his mouth of crumbs. "H-Howe. Liked what?"

Howe giggled. "The cookies. The ones you've eaten." She pointed at the empty cello bag.

The Commander wiped his face again, grabbed the cello bag and tossed it in the bin beside his desk. "Yes, well they were delicious. I've never tasted such treats before. It was you who made them, correct?"

Howe nodded.

"Hmm... not only is my new secretary diligent," The Commander said. "But she can bake delicious treats too. Well done Howe you've proven yourself, as a reward we'll call it a day."

Howe chuckled softly. "Commander, thank you. I appreciate it."

_

Once the Commander locked the door, he turned to Howe who clasped her hands in front of her.

"Well Howe," He said, smiling. "It's been a productive day. We couldn't have left early without you. You can be proud about that to your sister once you get home tonight, I'm sure of it." He offered his hand.

Howe smiled and shook it. "Thanks again Commander, though I didn't do that much. You were the one who carried the day."

Their gaze lingered on one another longer than necessary. The warmth of their palms mixing with each other like wax melting under fire.

"Maybe," The Commander said. "Until tomorrow then?"

"Same time." Howe said, withdrawing her hand.

Once they said their goodbyes, they ambled in opposite directions. The Commander in particular rubbed the hand he'd shaken with Howe on the fabric of his uniform. Her warmth still lingered.

Tomorrow, it will be.

Chapter Text

Howe took one last glance at the Commander before she strolled down the halls. She exhaled a sigh, relaxed her shoulders and unclasped her hands.

The day was over and she didn't have to appear as composed as she'd like. Truth be told, her palms had been sweaty and her chest had frozen like ice the whole day. Even so, her smile reached the corner of her eyes as she walked.

She could say to everyone she succeeded today.

And it all started yesterday...

_

From the moment George left her alone in the hallway, her mind had gone to work on how she could make a good impression on the Commander. Firstly, she needed to offer him a gift and what something better than a batch of her delectable cookies?

Crossing the administrative wing to the cafeteria, Howe stepped towards the community kitchen where she usually volunteered to make pastries for the day.

There, the scent of sliced garlic and onions, squeezed tomatoes, melted cheese, sprinkled spices and fragrant herbs entered her nose. Familiar faces greeted her.

Liverpool, it seemed, cooked a casserole, pouring in hot white sauce to a pan filled with pasta. Next was Dunkerque, Howe's fellow pastry enthusiast and friend. She mixed melted chocolate in a bowl, probably making another one of her exquisite desserts. Then there was Lung Wu, their ever enthusiastic chef destroyer who oversaw the whole kitchen. She guided the Sardegnan cooks and a few volunteers with preparing the Sardegnan special for tomorrow's food theme.

Howe passed by them with a nod, smiling at each of them. She wore an apron and hair net, gathered the ingredients she needed from the pantry and containers and took her station at one of the vacant counters.

"Bonjour, Howe," Dunkerque said. The distant chopping of vegetables, passing of orders, metal utensils clinging and soup boiling muffled her voice. "Ready for another round of baking?"

"Actually, I'll be here just to bake a single batch of cookies." Howe scooped up flour from a container and set it down in a bowl. "Something important came up and it needs my utmost attention."

"Oh?," Dunkerque raised her eyebrows. "May I ask what the occasion is?"

Howe briefly glanced at Dunkerque before adding a teaspoon of baking soda and salt to the flour. "I've been...you know...chosen as secretary for the Commander."

Her mouth parted, Dunkerque stopped stirring the chocolate and stared at Howe with wide eyes. She blinked then smiled. "Félicitations, that is wonderful news. How did it come to be? Did the Commander choose you?"

Whisking the powder, Howe picked up the bowl. "Not quite. I was chosen by random, by ballot of all things."

Dunkerque chuckled. "By ballot you say? Bon chance. This is the opportunity you were looking for." She set down her bowl on the counter and shuffled to Howe's side. "Would you like a helping hand?"

Howe fetched a cup of butter and placed it in a mixer bowl. "Oh no, surely not. I wouldn't want to distract you from your own baking. Do carry on with your task"

"Je comprends." Dunkerque took her chocolate bowl as Howe activated the mixer, breaking the solid butter into cream. "But it's not everyday you get appointed as secretary. There must be at least some things you would like some help with."

Howe stared at Dunkerque as she measured the sugar and placed it in the mixer. Perhaps, but Howe wanted to bake the cookies herself since she was the one who wanted to gain the Commander's approval. Then again, how could she deny a friend? Setting the bowl down, Howe waited with Dunkerque until the dough became light and fluffy. "Alright, you can help with making the second dough and rolling it but that's it. The cookies have to be my own since I'm the one making them for the Commander."

Dunkerque perked, setting down her bowl. "Oui. You must really like the Commander to be determined enough to bake him your special cookies, non?"

Light red tinged on Howe's cheeks. "That's not...well...It's not like I've properly met him yet—"

Before Howe could continue, a girl wearing an apron and a white toque over her blue hair came to them. it was the overseer of the kitchen, Lung Wu.

"Good morning, Lady Howe. Ready to assist with the baking? We're preparing a Sardegnan special cuisine for tomorrow's theme. Dunkerque will guide you with the dessert plan, coordinate with her."

"Um, actually," Howe said. "I'm just here to bake one batch of cookies, If you don't mind."

Lung Wu stared at Howe, tilting her head. "Just one batch? May I ask why?"

"She was chosen as the Commander's secretary," Dunkerque answered. "And she wished to display her baking skills to the Commander. To impress him."

Howe's blush deepened and her gaze sharpened like knives at Dunkerque. "It's not like that..." she muttered. Is it?

Lung Wu paused, resting a finger below her chin. "Hmm...I see. Well then I won't stop you. Once you're finished, I must ask you to leave though as we will be needing all the space later on."

"Of course." Howe said as the mixer finally softened the butter. She deactivated it and picked up an egg. "I only plan on making a good impression." She cracked the egg into the mixer bowl. "if that's alright."

Lung Wu nodded. "Well I wish the best with your plan. I wouldn't want to disappoint our main benefactor." She stepped away towards a sardegnan destroyer boiling pasta incorrectly. "But do keep the Commander company. I see him sitting alone at the cafeteria and I can't help but feel pity... Miss Libeccio, that's not how you boil pasta..."

Once Lung Wu plunged herself in the stresses of being the kitchen overseer again, Howe and Dunkerque continued on baking the Commander's sweet cookies. Howe added in vanilla to the mix while Dunkerque picked up another bowl and added the same base ingredients the last bowl had except this time she added brown sugar and divided the dough into two portions: one with peanut butter and the other with rolled oats, cinnamon and raisins. Of course she adjusted the ingredients to balance with the oats. Once they added the flour to the first mix, they mixed the portions of the second dough in the mixer and waited.

"I heard that the Commander is a rather charming man," Dunkerque said. "The shipgirls who became his secretary become attached to him one way or another."

Howe rolled her eyes as she mixed the first bowl manually. If she was going to tease her like this couldn't she have made it less obvious? "Have you met him?"

Dunkerque nodded. "Oui, on some occasions. I once submitted a small Vichiya-Iris proposal to him and he was kind enough to accept it. He even said a few encouraging words about the planning, though I think he was just being polite. And you? You said you haven't met him yet."

"Actually I did meet him, earlier this morning."

Dunkerque stared at Howe. "Well, how was it? How did you find him?"

"Mmm...he was polite...kind. Just what you'd expect from someone normal. I expected him to be something else honestly."

"Oh? Like what?"

Howe paused. "Like...a war hero? It's foolish really. Let's not mind."

"A war hero?" Dunkerque chuckled. "How romantic of you." She paused then grinned. "Imagine this. A tall, muscular figure slicing through the sirens with nothing but his bare hands and a sabre. Rounds fly by him like a swarm of bees ready to strike. Most miss, others he slice clean through but some scrape his tough skin, tearing that beautiful flesh of his like metal against metal. But he moves on, shouting his orders like a roaring lion. He does not stop, not until all before him are either slain or running away. But then he turns to you, the manly scars on his face evident of the many battles he fought and with a deep baritone voice he calls your name: Howe."

Howe stopped mixing her bowl entirely and stared at Dunkerque with wide eyes. With a flushed face, she snatched a towel from the counter and swatted her. "Oh, stop it, stop it, stop it. You can be such a tease sometimes, you know. Stop. It."

Dunkerque laughed a bit more. "Oh, Howe je suis désolé. I will be serious from now on, I promise—hah!" She yelped as one of Howe's swats landed somewhere a bit too sensitive.

The two tussled briefly, swiping towels and faking dodges. Around them, the other cooks and volunteers couldn't help but pause and stare at them.

"Lady Howe and Lady Dunkerque, my kitchen isn't a place for games. Either get back to work or get out." Lung Wu said.

Howe and Dunkerque stopped and cleared their throats. "Okay, we'll stop. Sorry."

With one more stern glance, Lung Wu's gaze finally returned to teaching Libeccio on how to boil pasta properly and the rest of the kitchen's bustle continued.

After the mixer finished the portions of the second dough, Dunkerque took it out, added the flour mixture in and beat them. She edged towards Howe, cautious in case she was ready to swat. "If I may ask, what did you say to him?"

Howe paused, looking up at Dunkerque. "Well I said my greetings and bowed."

"That was it?"

"Well...sort of..."

Dunkerque narrowed her eyes as she gave Howe a serious look. "Tell me."

Howe glanced away slowly whisking the bowl, but eventually she looked back at Dunkerque. "George was there."

Dunkerque's eyes widened. "Your sister?"

Howe meekly nodded.

A brief silence ensued where neither one knew what to say but eventually Dunkerque spoke. "Ma pauvre Howe. George still fusses over you? That must be difficult. I know she means well but it could be too much sometimes. Howe please tell me she didn't embarrass you in front of the Commander."

Howe sighed. "She did, intentionally too."

Dunkerque shook her head. "Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. And what must you be feeling?"

With a pout, Howe set down her bowl and tore the mixture into three lumps. "It's frustrating honestly, I mean how could she be so insensitive. I get that she's just trying to protect me but can't she see that I'm a grown woman? Not only that but I think the other girls see me as her porcelain doll or something."

Once the three cookie doughs were on separate bowls, Howe divided and rolled the first ones up and placed it on a baking tray with parchment paper—sugar cookies. To the second dough she did the same although this time she rolled them up with cinnamon-sugar—snickerdoodles. And the third dough she mixed it in with almond extract and chopped almonds—almond cookies. Dunkerque helped her all the while.

"It's not that I hate what she's doing, it's just..." Howe sighed. "She's being too overprotective, you know. It makes me feel incapable."

Dunkerque nodded, patting Howe's back. "There, there, Howe. I understand. It must be hard for you to cultivate your own path when your sisters are flaring their own. But as they say, petit à petit, l'oiseau fait son nid. It takes time just like with me and Strasbourg. At first I encouraged her to bake ces pâtisseries with me. I would wake her up early in the morning then we would bake our own breakfasts. Initially, she put up with it like the good sister she was, but overtime she realized that baking was not her forte and she asked me to stop our sessions. I was disappointed at first but I understood she needed to find her own path. And within a few months it was a surprise to me to learn that she came to excel at playing two instruments. Although I did miss the look on her face when she would eat her burnt pains au chocolat, I am still happy that she managed to find her own strengths. And with the two of you and George, you'll prove yourself sooner or later. In fact you're doing it now by baking these biscuits to impress the Commander."

Howe stared at the balls of dough, before she glanced up at Dunkerque. "I see...well thanks for telling me. I appreciate it."

"Avec plaisir, Now let's get these cookies rolled."

With the second cookie dough, they similarly divided it into three bowls. The first one Howe mixed in chocolate chips—chocolate chip cookies. The portion with the added peanut butter they rolled and crosshatched with a fork—peanut butter cookies. And they did the same to the portion with the rolled oats, cinnamon and raisins—oatmeal raisin cookies.

Once all the cookie dough were rolled, they put it in the freezer and waited. After thirty minutes, the dough hardened and Howe pulled them out the freezer. Transferring the dough to a different tray, Howe slid it in the preheated oven and waited for it to bake.

While they waited, Howe and Dunkerque cleaned up their counter and put the ingredients back to their containers.

"I hope he likes them." Howe said, wiping off the crumbs from the counter.

"Oh he will," Dunkerque gathered the flour. "Especially as they're made by you."

When the timer dinged, Howe rushed to wear some mittens and opened the oven. There wisps of heat flew out as the smell of baked dough wafted in the air. Howe slowly pulled out the tray revealing the freshly baked delicious golden cookies. It made both Howe and Dunkerque's mouth water.

"Mmm, ils sont fantastiques!" Dunkerque said, trying to pick one up.

Howe slapped her hand away. "Not for you."

"Ow," Dunkerque quickly withrew her hand. "Ça va, d'accord."

Once they placed the cookies on the cooling rack Lung Wu approached them.

"Mmm, they smell good. Wonderful work Howe. I'm envious of the Commander." Lung Wu rubbed her stomach. "Once they're cooled you can store them and leave. I hate to be blunt but we're going to be busy the whole day."

Howe nodded. "I understand."

"Well, now that you have your special cookies for the Commander I suppose I have work to do too." Dunkerque said, glancing towards the bowl of melted chocolate on the counter. "Bonne chance Howe, may you win his heart."

With an eye roll to the battlecruiser, Howe picked up the cookies one by one and put them in a cello bag. The warm crunchy texture of the cookies settled against her ring finger and thumb as she picked them up.

"Thanks for letting me bake these in your kitchen Lung Wu. I'll make up for it somehow."

Lung Wu nodded. "You don't have to. I can't let down a friend, especially if they're going to be the Commander's secretary."

Howe turned to Dunkerque. "Thank you too for helping me. Though I'd appreciate it more if it weren't for the teasing."

"Avec plaisir," Dunkerque said with a smile. "Expect more when you get back."

Once the ladies said their goodbyes. Howe removed her apron and hair net and left the kitchen with her cookies. She passed by the Sardegnan shipgirls who chopped vegetables, stirred sauces or kneaded dough and stepped towards the doors.

WIth her cookies now complete, Howe couldn't help but beam. She imagined the Commander happily munching on them and thanking her with a smile. Gosh. The idea almost makes her heart flutter.

Next on her list—her clothes. Since it's her first time being the Commander's secretary then her first impression on him must be special. Although elegant in its own right, Howe doubted that her normal clothes would do just fine. She needed something else. Something eye-catching and unique. She'll have to ask Newcastle about the fashionable—

"Howe, good to see you."

Howe flinched, almost dropping her cookies to the floor. Just when she opened the door and stepped outside the kitchen she was met with a woman wearing an almost hanfu blue gown and black stockings. When Howe's eyes met the woman's she pressed her lips together. It was Chi An.

"Ah! Are those cookies?" Chi An beamed. "They look delicious. You know I can make those same delicious pastries like you and Dunkerque make, Lung Wu just needs to allow me in the kitchen and we could have fun." Chi An inched closer to Howe, looking over her shoulder to the kitchen door.

The memory of letting Chi An go into the kitchen lingered in Howe's mind. Chi An almost set the whole kitchen on fire.

"Y-yes, I'm sure of it too." Howe said. "It must be really tough for you, to not be able to cook."

"Certainly! You know I have a few recipes I want to try out but that stubborn Lung Wu won't listen. Between you and me I think she's just jealous of my cooking, don't you think?"

Caught between not wanting to hurt Chi An's feelings and not wanting to get her hopes up, Howe had to choose her words carefully lest she get someone hurt.

"I think so too, but perhaps today's not the day to bother Lung Wu and the others. They're going to be very busy the whole day and I don't think you'd want to get in their way."

Chi An's smile faded, replaced with parted lips. "Is that so? How unfortunate, I really wanted to try out new ideas I've been reading but oh well perhaps another day. When do you think Lung Wu will unban me from the kitchen?"

Howe forced a smile. "Soon dear. You'll get your chance someday. Just be patient."

With a nod, Howe stepped away from Chi An and crossed the cafeteria. But just as she almost exited, Howe couldn't help but stare back at the woman. By now Chi An stood against the door, looking in the kitchen from the door's circular window. Howe couldn't help but furrow her brows gently. She knew Chi An to be a bad cook but it didn't stop Howe from pitying her. With a sigh, she returned back to the kitchen doors.

"Chi An." Howe called. "I have something for you."

Turning back, Chi An's brows raised as Howe offered her a cookie. "Howe? For me?"

Howe nodded with a smile. "I know it's been tough not being able to cook but as long as you keep hoping perhaps maybe one day you'll prove yourself to Lung Wu."

Chi An blinked, slowly grabbing the cookie. "I don't know what to say...Thank you."

"You'll get to try those recipes out, I'll make sure of it. I can appeal to Lung Wu to have you cook somewhere safe just not in the kitchen yet."

"You'd do that for me?"

"Of course, everyone deserves a second chance."

"Oh, thank you Howe," Chi An moved closer and hugged Howe. "I appreciate it."

Once Chi An let her go, Howe nodded and turned her heel. Howe stepped away with a warmth to her chest.

It's good to help out a friend.

Once Howe left the cafeteria and, subsequently, the main building, she ambled back towards the Royal Navy residence to her sisters' shared dorms. When she arrived in their living room, she dropped the cookies to a table, activated the intercom and called Newcastle.

"Howe speaking, Newcastle could you please come back to the King George V class dorms, I'll be needing you. Thank you."

Inside her room, Howe got to work on what garment combinations would do best—colours, fabrics and silhouettes. She wanted something formal and refined, something that would catch the Commander's eye and set her out from his past secretaries. But she also wanted it to be personal, something she would choose, something she would be known by.

Opening her wardrobe, she sifted through her dresses and scrutinized their worth: her handy red coat—fitting for most situations but not now. A strapless black to red gradient evening gown—special but too elegant and sophisticated; better saved for a later occasion. A maid outfit consisting of a white blouse, a corset-style bodice and black straps—heavens no!

As Howe sifted back and forth her clothes, a knock came to her door.

Howe paused as she held a coat's hanger. "Come in."

Newcastle came in and curtsied. "You asked for me Lady Howe?" She said, closing the door behind her.

Howe patted her dress and smiled. "Yes. Thank you for coming quickly. I'm trying to find something to wear for my meeting with the Commander for tomorrow and I want it to be memorable. Could you help me pick what dress to choose?"

Newcastle blinked, her eyebrows raising as she stared at Howe. "O-Of course, allow me to assist you." She briefly glanced at Howe with pressed lips before she stepped towards the wardrobe and sifted through the clothes. "What style do you have in mind, milady?"

Howe placed a finger to her chin and looked upwards. "I'm thinking of something simple yet memorable. Something that's unexpected but appropriate. I'd like the Commander to think presentable with a tad bit of uniqueness."

The wooden hangers creaked against the closet rod as Newcastle deftly searched through the assortment of dresses, coats and gowns. Eventually she pulled out a red plaid dress and a black halter top.

"These two would go hand-in-hand." Newcastle said. She stepped towards the dresser to the side and, from the topmost drawer, pulled out a couple of stockings and garters. "Try these on and see if they work."

Howe grabbed the clothes from Newcastle and minced towards the dressing screen. After a few moments she revealed herself donned in the dress to Newcastle who sat at the edge of Howe's bed.

"How is it?" Howe said, turning to the side to look at her skirt.

Newcastle scrutinized her for a while, her eyes squinting with each crease off of Howe's fabric.

The red plaid dress suited her well like a budding flower hugged by its petals. Her black halter top did its job of covering her chest in a modest way while also allowing her to reveal her shoulders. It tantalized, showed her beauty but covered enough not to be excessive. The same could be said with the stockings and garters. It heightened her modesty. Yet Newcastle furrowed her brows. "Something's quite missing."

Howe stared at her. "What?"

Newcastle snapped her fingers. "I know what'll do just the trick." She stepped towards the drawer where Howe's jewelry box sat and took out a red ribbon brooch. "Wear this."

Howe reached for it and displayed it to her neck collar. "How is it now?"

Newcastle nodded. The brooch added much flair to her dress. The ruby gleaming was eye-catching to say the least.

"Wonderful, milady. You look lovely."

Howe stared at the mirror, her eyes gleaming. She tried out poses, fussed over her hair a few times and smiled at her reflection. In the end, she gave a firm nod to herself. "I hope he likes it," she mumbled.

Newcastle heard but said nothing. She stood to the side and waited for Howe to finish admiring her dress.

Eventually, Howe turned to her, and smiled. "Thanks so much for your help, Newcastle. I don't know what I could've done without you. I must owe you a favour."

"Oh no, milady," Newcastle said. "It's my responsibility as a maid to serve you in whatever way I can. You don't have to owe me anything. It's a part of my duty."

"No, I insist." Howe reached for Newcastle's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You've done well in serving me and my sisters for a long time. I must simply repay the service."

Newcastle stared at Howe. That smile of hers could warm cold sheets of ice frozen in the poles. And her touch soothed her like a fur muff protecting her from the elements. Newcastle all but knew her mistress' aptitude for comforting and in situations like these she can't help but oblige. She sighed. "Of course, milady. If you wish so then I will not decline."

Howe's face lighted up like a schoolgirl receiving flowers. She stood up, gathered her clothes and changed behind the dressing screen. Once she finished, Newcastle approached her.

"Shall I prepare these clothes for your date with the Commander tomorrow?"

"Yes, please. I—" Howe paused, almost not realizing what Newcastle said but when she did she blushed. "D-Date? No, you misunderstand. I'm not...I'm..."

"Oh dear, my deepest apologies milady," Newcastle bowed deeply. "I just simply thought that your joy meant something else."

With a flushed face, Howe stared at Newcastle. Date? What did she mean by 'date'? No this was a professional appointment. Her chance to be regarded and respected like her sisters. She mustn't let others' romantic notions get in the way of her goal. If anything she only saw the Commander as her superior, nothing more.

Giving a quick headshake, Howe shook off the idea entirely. "This isn't a date. I was chosen as the Commander's secretary. This is simply my new job now. That's all."

Nodding, Newcastle couldn't help but let out a faint smile. "Yes, of course. I misspoke, forgive me."

After a moment of silence, Howe offered Newcastle her dress. "Please, press them. I'd like to look my best for tomorrow's meeting."

"Of course, milady. I'll see to them swiftly." Newcastle retrieved the dress and left the room with a curtsy.

Now alone, Howe mentally prepared herself for her upcoming meeting. She imagined different possibilities that may come up. Like how she'll impress him with her first greetings or how she'll handle her workload with speed and efficiency. How he'll talk to her in praise and get noticed by the other shipgirls. For her it wasn't just an appointment—this was her reputation. The rise of it or its fall. No longer will she remain hidden behind her sisters' shadows. She will have to walk a path of her own.

_

Such were Howe's memory as she ambled along the corridor. It had been worth all the fussing and now she strutted. There was a spring in her step, something other shipgirls noticed as they passed by her. It was as if she had done something remarkable like offering sensitive intel about the siren's plans whereas she had only attended work. Still it didn't stop her from looking at her hand. The hand the Commander shook. His words once more rang in her head:

"You can be proud about that to your sister once you get home tonight, I'm sure of it."

Proud all night she'll be and she'd have to tell someone about it. And who to tell better than her half-sister Monarch.

Chapter Text

Howe passed by the administrative wing and settled near the cafeteria. There, groups of shipgirls crowded the space, their conversations filling the background. She stopped at the entrance.

Maybe she should bring something back to Monarch?

Since Monarch had come to port, her bitterness towards others and life in general had already shown. She kept to herself, staying in her dorm. When she did come out, it was always under the orders of Queen Elizabeth, not for casual meetings or cordial tea parties.

Outside, shipgirls would see her strut like a guardswoman, each step slow, deliberate, and proud as if she were in defiance of her own need to be seen. She rarely held her gaze with others, often staring down at the ground. Once, a shipgirl dared to greet her with a smile, and she reproached them with a scowl. Then she kept walking as if nothing had happened.

Howe, in her part, had welcomed the battleship as a friend. Even if they weren't constructed as the exact class, she felt a special kinship between them, like an obligation to show her the world wasn't as bad and that she could be happy. She would invite her to have meals together, escort her outside their dorms during the mornings, visit her occasionally for some tea and then talk about some events, interests and hobbies.

At first, Monarch didn't seem to mind. She would tolerate her half sister's overtures and respond with little more than a shrug or nod. It wasn't that she hated the attention, nor did she enjoy it. For her, it was just something trivial.

Over time, however, there were changes in her demeanour. When Howe would invite Monarch to her table in the cafeteria, there were times when she didn't outright dismiss her; instead, she hesitated and, on rare occasions, accepted her offer.

One morning, when Monarch had duties outside, Howe didn't arrive on time in the dorm vestibule, and Monarch found herself alone. She sat on a sofa and waited. It's not that she needed to wait. Nothing stopped her from going alone to the main building. Nevertheless, she waited until Howe finally came down the stairs.

As Howe visited her more often, Monarch couldn't help but anticipate her arrival every time. She'd open the door for her and have a maid prepare tea just for the two of them. She'd sit back, relax, and listen to Howe talk about her day. Occasionally, she would chime in, and they'd have a conversation.

This was the norm for both of them, and Howe treasured it. She knew Monarch wasn't ready to open up yet, and she didn't push. It was ultimately up to her, but with the progress they'd made, Howe knew it was soon.

Now at the cafeteria entrance, Howe planned on visiting her again and telling her about her new job as secretary. But before she does, she should bring something back to her. A snack or two to enjoy while they have some tea later on.

Entering the cafeteria, Howe crossed the room and waited in line. The shipgirls nearby, on seeing her, couldn't help but take a glance before going back to their conversations.

"Hey, look at that lady. She looks elegant as heck." One red-haired girl with twin tails said.

"Oooh, look to your left, Hammann," A destroyer with white cat ears teased. "It looks like someone just had a date with the Commander."

"S-Stop it!" Hammann snapped.

"Kaga, who is that woman wearing such... vile clothes?" A woman with brown fox ears and tails growled on one table.

"Nee-sama, please," Kaga sighed. "Let's just eat."

"Hmph. So what if she looks perfect? I bet she's just looking for attention." A blonde girl in an Ironblood uniform said. "Huh?! Ich bin nicht eifersüchtig!"

Howe noticed the attention she received and thought it strange. It wasn't common for her to be in the spotlight, much less when her sisters were more popular than her. She knew they only saw her appearance, her outward self, not the Howe that lay beneath the dress. Howe tried to ignore them as much as she could. She didn't want to be the object of shallow praise. As she stood in line, however, she noticed a group of friends approach her.

"Lady Howe, is that you?" The lead girl said. "Wow, you look amazing. Are you going to a banquet or something?"

Howe smiled. "Good evening, Javelin. Not quite, I'm just here to pick up a few snacks for my visit to Monarch later. I thought it best to bring her something back."

"Monarch?! Yikes... good luck with that!"

"Mhm. Laffey thinks you look good." One of the girls beside Javelin, wearing bunny ear accessories, said.

Howe turned to her. "Thank you."

"Guys, we really should be finding seats now," The girl with short blonde hair advised. "It looks like the cafeteria will be busy tonight."

"Ayanami will find one." The last girl wearing a cropped sailor uniform announced. She then split from the group and searched for a table.

Javelin turned to Howe. "Sooo... Lady Howe... did you dress up for someone?"

The other girls scrutinized her. She blinked, then blushed a bit.

"I did, for the Commander. I was chosen as his secretary, and I simply wanted to look presentable." Howe explained.

"Oooh, Secretary? Nimi, this is your chance! Tell Lady Howe what it's like to be the Commander's secretary. You have experience, don't you?"

Nimi blushed. "Well..."

"Nimi knows a lot about the Commander," Laffey said. "She once told us he usually wears gray boxers—"

"N-Nein, I haven't!" Nimi covered Laffey's mouth. "Jeez, you guys should calm down. It's not like we're somewhere private."

Howe couldn't help but giggle. The way Javelin and her friends humoured each other brought warmth to her heart. This was how she wished her sisters would tease each other.

"Isn't that a bit too specific?" Howe teased. "Though I wouldn't mind some advice coming from someone who knows the Commander's boxer colour."

Nimi's blush deepened, and she glared at her friends. "Ahem. First, you must know the importance of composure. You have much work, and the last thing you want is to become overwhelmed. You will need to manage the Commander's daily schedule, update him on the base's status, organize mission reports, help with the paperwork, coordinate with Akashi for logistics, handle correspondence, and more. My advice is to take each task one at a time. That way you can forget the other work temporarily and make you focus on the assignment you have. Also, try to remember the work you need to do; better if you write it down. There were times I had difficulties myself, and I would just jot them down on paper. It made me more organized and less stressed. I'm quite sure the Commander also does it."

"Boooring," Javelin said. "We want to know more about the Commander. Tell us something interesting about him—like a secret."

"That's, well..." Nimi scratched her head.

This crossed the line of gossip, and Howe knew it. As a lady, she had unwritten rules to follow, and one of them related to hearsay and idle talk. While not prohibited, it could become problematic if she indulges in it. One false rumour and it could ruin one's reputation. Howe didn't want to be a part of that. She had to maintain her dignity and respect as a lady should.

Yet, curiosity lingered.

What is the Commander like in his personal life? She barely knew him as the man who commanded them in his office. Any personal knowledge of him was hard to come by. She heard stories from her sisters and others, but they mostly related to his work. If she is to start as his secretary, then she should get to know him, whether by experience or through others. Perhaps this time could be an exception.

"Please, continue," Howe said.

Nimi's eyes widened at the remark. She blushed as she stared at Howe. "L-Lady Howe?"

Howe glanced around the cafeteria, and when she was sure no one listened, she turned to Nimi. "I'd like to hear something about the Commander. You know, to help me with being his secretary."

Her blush subsided, Nimi tilted her head and furrowed her brows. "I see. Well, there is one thing, but do not tell anyone I said this."

"I won't."

"Okay. From my experience, I have known the Commander as an open and respectable man. He works very hard, not because it's his job, but because he cares about us," Nimi pressed her lips together. "But there were times when he showed more than he should. It's very subtle. You have to pay attention to him to see what he feels. Like the way he pauses mid-task and goes silent before continuing, or how he stares outside the window and then sighs. I remember once when I passed by his office a couple of times. There was music from the inside, and I went to check in. From the door, I saw him behind his desk. His eyes were closed, and he was fiddling with his pen. He hummed something wistful, like a piece from an older time. I just stared. It was like he was somewhere far away. Until now, I did not know what it meant, but I do know what the Commander felt was deep."

"What did you think he felt?" Javelin asked.

"I don't know. Nostalgia? Longing? Or maybe he was just waiting for something."

"Laffey thinks he was just sleepy."

"Hang on, how did you even know these details? Were you eavesdropping on him or something?"

"N-No! I am merely being observant, you know. I was his secretary after all."

"Nimi has a crush on the Commander," Laffey said.

"Was? Nein, ich nich!" Nimi tried to nudge Laffey. "Stop saying that."

"Nimi has a crush on the Commander. Nimi has a crush on the Commander." Javelin repeated.

"No. I. Do. Not." She tried to push them both away, but Javelin and Laffey dodged her attempts. They kept repeating the phrase, "Nimi has a crush on the Commander," as they pranced away.

"Ach, those two. I might have to assign them more work as punishment." Nimi turned to Howe. "Well, Lady Howe, I wish you the best in your new role as secretary. Please look after the Commander. He tries not to show it, but he... does get lonely sometimes." Turning her heel, she stormed off down the path where Javelin and Laffey went.

Howe stood in place, the words lingering in her mind. He does get lonely sometimes. It left a sour taste in her mouth. From what she knew, the Commander was a popular figure among them. He was the leader and hero of Azur Lane—loved, respected, and adored. The man whose tactical and strategic capabilities won them victory, the man whose name instilled admiration and awe. There were times when shipgirls of different factions crowded into his office just to see him. He'd constantly receive their attention and affection, whether through letters, words of praise, or gifts. And yet, to imagine the same man sitting alone in his office humming a wistful tune, it struck a chord in Howe's heart.

"Ano, miss, have you seen where my friends went?" The girl wearing a cropped sailor uniform returned.

Howe paused, then turned to her. "Oh, well, um, they went outside. Ayanami was it?"

The girl turned her head towards the exit and sighed. "Yes. Ayanami desu."

When Ayanami's gaze returned to Howe, something about her eyes changed. Its once bright, vivid amber saturation faded into a muted hue. Just as Howe stared at her, she stared back as well.

"I will go now," Ayanami said.

Howe paused, then smiled. "Alright, tell your friends I appreciate their advice."

Nodding, Ayanami turned her heel, but as she stepped forward, she glanced back. "You look sad."

Howe's lips parted, but no words came out. Did she look sad? She couldn't tell, only that her heart beat at a faster pace.

"Just thinking, dear," Howe finally said. "Just thinking."

Ayanami watched her with furrowed brows, then she turned her head forward. "Alright." She stepped away.

Once Ayanami's silhouette left the cafeteria, Howe couldn't help but breathe a sigh. Sad, huh? Maybe she was. After all, it's unusual for her to feel this way. All she wanted was to appease Javelin and her friends, not... this. She didn't know that the Commander felt lonely. And yet, something inside her told her she could change that. Not overnight, but perhaps something like Monarch.

Speaking of Monarch, wasn't she supposed to bring her something back?

Padding her dress, Howe stepped in line and waited for her turn. After a while, the line thinned, and she found herself second to the front at the counter.

"Next," The server said.

Howe stepped forward and was met by a destroyer wearing an apron and a green beret.

"Ciao! What can I get for you?" The destroyer's blue eyes widened when she saw Howe in her dress. "Oooh, signorina, you look fantastica in that dress. Is there a party going on?"

Howe smiled. "No, no party. I just thought it best to look formal tonight. I'm visiting a friend, actually."

The destroyer nodded. "Mmm. Well, this friend is lucky. Anyway, what would you like? We have a full Sardegnan course here. From pasta, lasagna, and pizza, to tiramisu, bonet, and zeppole. The choice is yours. Although if you ask me, I'd choose the pasta. I did most of the cooking with these."

Howe studied the food prepared at the counter. Lung Wu wasn't kidding when she said they'd be busy yesterday. From the looks of it, they cooked a lot. And Howe felt a little guilty for not being a part of it. Sure, she was chosen with an important duty, but to leave her kitchen friends all alone—it didn't sit right.

Howe considered her options and made up her mind. "I'd like something light for today. Something that goes well with tea. Do you have any for me?"

The destroyer beamed. "Sure! We have biscotti, pizzelle and cornetti. Oh, and if you like something sweet, I'd recommend ciambelle. They're like these fried donuts with honey brushed onto them. Dolce e deliziosa." She grinned. "And just so you know, I helped out a bit with these, too."

Somehow, a small chill crept up to Howe's spine, but she couldn't deny the destroyer's cute humour. She giggled. "Alright then, I'd like an assortment of them in a box, please. Thank you."

"Coming right up!" The destroyer then retreated behind the counter and prepared her order.

As Howe waited, she couldn't help but brush the hem of her dress. Her thoughts went to the Commander and Monarch—two important people she now felt responsible for.

Howe had taken her time with Monarch, slowly cultivating her like a budding flower. Although not yet fully open, she showed promising signs of growth, signs that made Howe believe her efforts were not in vain. Her goal wasn't to change her, no, but to accompany her in her journey, as a gardener does to their plant. So far, her flower hadn't wilted, and it made Howe beam.

However, with one plant about to blossom, another seemed to shrivel away.

Howe didn't know the full extent of the Commander's loneliness. She'd only met him yesterday, and her experience with him seemed positive so far. And yet, Nimi's description of him lingered in her heart in a way few others had. How he seemed so dependable and strong on the outside, how he works hard and manages the port as his highest priority. To hide behind that mask of duty and honour as to neglect his own needs...

The tune the Commander hummed in his office echoed in her ear:

"Hmmm. Hmm. Hmmm. Hmmmm...."

It was... sad.

"Miss Libeccio, how many times must I tell you that you need a hairnet when serving customers, not just the beret?"

A familiar voice rang out from behind the counter, and Howe turned her head towards it.

There was Lung Wu.

"Oh. Uh, yes, si, si, haha..." Libeccio fumbled over the box of sweets she carried as she hastily put on a hairnet.

"Don't let me catch you again."

Before Lung Wu stepped back to the kitchen doors, she spotted Howe at the counter.

"Lady Howe? What brings you here? You wear a wonderful dress. Ah, did your meeting with the Commander go well?"

Howe smiled and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "You can say that."

Lung Wu studied Howe, her blue eyes glinting a bit more than usual. "Did he enjoy your cookies?"

Blushing, Howe remembered how the Commander practically devoured the whole batch while she was gone. "He did eat them all."

Lung Wu smiled. "Ah, good, very good. A good sign he'll enjoy your company. You bring good fortune to our kitchen."

Before Howe could respond, Libeccio set the box on the counter and tied it with a red ribbon. "There you go, miss, an assortment of Sardegnan fine desserts. Mwah!" She gave a chef's kiss.

"Thank you," Howe lifted the box and held it in her hand. "Libeccio."

"Anytime."

Howe turned to Lung Wu. "Well, I'll be off now. Tell Dunkerque I said hi."

"I will. Best of luck to you."

With one more nod, Howe stepped away with her newly acquired sweets. Now that she had something to bring back, she wondered if Monarch would like them. She remembered how she brought her some candy and cheese chips from some destroyers, and she refused to eat them. Hopefully, these sardegnan desserts would do—

"Cosa? She's the new secretary?" Libeccio exclaimed from the counter.

Howe flinched and glanced back. The other shipgirls in the cafeteria turned their heads towards the counter.

Lung Wu facepalmed. "Miss Libeccio, I said not to say it out loud."

"Haha... sorry."

Once the other shipgirls realized what Libeccio had said, their gazes turned to Howe, who stood still.

"The Commander's new secretary? Well, who would've known..." A blonde eagle union carrier said.

"Sister... don't you think Her Majesty made an error with the ballot?" Formidable murmured to Illustrious.

"Why now~ What an interesting choice for a secretary. Perhaps the Commander does prefer 'beauty' over function after all." An amber-eyed ironblood heavy cruiser teased.

Then there were the ones who whispered behind Howe's back, possibly spreading rumours about her. Howe's grip on the box tightened. She didn't expect so many of her peers to judge her as they did. She only became a secretary by chance, but that still didn't stop others from getting jealous. Howe stood still and tried to slowly breathe. As if it couldn't get worse, it did.

"Wait. Did she just show herself to the Commander with that dress?" A panicked red-haired destroyer blurted. "Was she planning to entice him?"

That seemed to be the last straw as metal screeched from one table. Everyone swiftly turned to the source, where the woman with brown fox ears and tails stormed her way towards Howe. She moved like a rabid animal—bloodshot eyes, flared nostrils and gritted teeth. Her tails twitched with every step she took, each click of her heels shutting the murmurs of others.

Howe's heart pounded as the woman got closer. She knew what this meant—who this was. Her eyes dilated at the sudden escalation, compounded by the growing rush of adrenaline in her veins.

Conflicts weren't that common for her. Since she came to port, she conducted herself with dignity and grace. Not that she avoided conflict, but that they were so sparse she could count them with her fingers. And those conflicts she did have were handled with civility as ladies should.

Now those experiences flashed before her eyes as she held her breath.

Today was going to be different.

"So YOU'RE the new secretary everyone was talking about." The woman said.

Howe took a step back, now gripping the box. She scanned the room, hoping that someone would intervene.

From the blonde ironblood girl who swiftly looked away, the eagle union carrier who gave a low whistle. The red-haired destroyer who covered her face and finally Lung Wu—her last hope—who... stepped back into the kitchen.

Howe gulped—she had no one to rely on but herself.

As the woman came in front of her, Howe straightened her posture and cleared her throat.

"Lady Akagi, good evening," Howe said.

"Don't, Lady Akagi, me. I know exactly why you came here." Akagi breathed against Howe's face.

Her nose flared with heat, making Howe drop a sweat.

"And that would be?"

"You came to steal the Commander away from me with those sweets." Akagi pointed at the box Howe gripped. "You're going to visit him and hoard all his attention until he forgets about me."

Howe lowered her gaze to the box, then she looked up at Akagi. "I believe you misunderstand. I'm not visiting the Commander. I'm visiting someone else."

Akagi raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? Then how do you explain the dress?"

Howe stood still, her lips parted. Didn't she intend to impress the Commander? But it wasn't in a romantic way—it was purely professional. All she wanted was to display herself as a capable and studious secretary, not whatever Akagi thought. Is it a crime to show your best self to someone you'll have to work with? Although the thought did occur, has the Commander ever sought a relationship with one of his shipgirls? It sounded absurd, but with such a vast selection to choose from, wouldn't he have one by now? And what would it feel like to be that special someone? Of all the shipgirls, why would he pick, perhaps, someone like her?

"Hey, can't you speak?"

"Oh, um." Howe shook her head. "My goal wasn't to allure him per se, but just to show him that I'm capable, that's all."

Akagi snorted. "You Liar. You're here to claim his heart. But I won't let you."

Without warning, Akagi reached for the box, but Howe thrust it aside in time, brushing Akagi's fingers.

"Give me the box."

Clenching her jaw, Akagi shoved against Howe, arms reaching for the box, only for Howe to block her off with an arm.

"Lady Akagi, this is going too far. Please, stop."

"Too far? You're here trying to take the Commander's attention from me. Hand over the box."

With one more thrust forward, Akagi propelled herself towards Howe, making both women stagger. Howe herself was strained in the effort. The arm that held Akagi at bay began to falter, and her grip on the box loosened. If she didn't find a way out of this sooner, then they'd both buckle under the exertion and fall.

Howe momentarily pondered just handing the box to Akagi. Sure, she'd lose the scuffle, and the box would get destroyed, but it was better than getting hurt. After all, the box was worth little. She could get another one at the counter and act as if nothing had happened. But Howe didn't let go. Something inside her kept her holding on for dear life. Something that meant more to her, something that didn't quite make sense. As her fingers trembled and her heart raced, a surge filled her veins. That same feeling compelled her to do something she didn't expect—she pushed Akagi off.

Yelping, Akagi fell to one of the tables nearby. It gave off a loud thud and caused some plates and utensils to clatter.

The spectating shipgirls gasped.

"Well, I'll be damned." The blonde eagle union carrier expressed.

"Uh, Eugen, maybe someone should call Amagi." The blonde ironblood girl said.

"Go get em, signorina!" Libeccio exclaimed

Howe stared at Akagi for a while, her lips parted, and her heart pounding. What did she just do? She didn't mean for this to happen. She only wanted her to stop. But regret as she may, it didn't stop Akagi from growling.

"Lady Akagi, I didn't intend to—"

"YOU PEST."

Akagi rolled her hand into a fist and lunged at Howe. In this moment, Howe could only stare as the punch was about to land on her face.

She closed her eyes.

_

As the sun set on the blue horizon, shipgirls from different factions exited the various buildings around the port and crowded the main plaza.

Some were from the main headquarters, mostly battleships and senior members of the factions who contributed much to the administration and command structure of the port. Most were from the tactical and lecture halls, where the destroyers and cruisers studied naval tactics and improved their knowledge in warfare. Others were from the training grounds and exercise areas where shipgirls trained their skills and tested out maneuvers.

Shipgirls mingled around the space, forming groups and chatting about the day's events. Others played around the grassy and concreted paths, the tapping of their steps and laughter filling the air.

All the while, the breeze hummed in quiet solace, teasing strands of hair and hems of skirts into fluttering and spreading the salty taste of the ocean.

As the shipgirls crossed the plaza, one in particular ambled under the rustling cherry blossoms, holding a warped box.

It was Howe.

Above, the seagulls cawed in circles, and she couldn't help but look at the dimming sky.

Now that she had her box of sweets, the next step would be to visit Monarch.

Since her last visit, she'd left Monarch in a happy mood. They'd discussed her triumphs during exercises, how she trained vigorously to keep her flagship role. Howe remembered how Monarch's eyes glinted during conversation, and how she subtly curved her lips into a smile. It was moments such as those that made her chest pump up and slowly ease down. And Howe sped up her pace at the thought of this time's visit. How would Monarch's shell crack this time? She'll have a new story to tell, too, with her being the new secretary.

Passing the port plaza, Howe stepped her way towards the Royal Navy residence. There, the palace-like dorms stood before her. Its long, rectangular facade positioned itself as one of the largest of the residences, conquering the subsequent space. Tall pentagonal windows glinted along the wall's frames, casting the yellow gleam of the sun's rays. The stone design displayed square symmetry, beautifully displaying the Royal Navy's fine architecture. Such elegance wasn't simply offered, but insisted upon by Her Majesty. The Royal Navy shipgirls could repose in ease within its palatial halls, knowing they were provided with more luxury compared to the other factions.

Howe entered through the building via the courtyard, climbing up a small stack of sunlit marble stairs. Inside, she passed through the red vestibule where the distant sounds of talk and steps echoed through the halls. At the wooden stairs, Howe gripped the polished railing and ascended, smiling at the thought of this time's visit to Monarch. Once at the designated floor, she ambled towards the wing where Monarch's dorms were situated.

It was the same floor as her own class' dorms, separated by a hall. Since she was technically a King George V class, Monarch had the option to join Howe and her sisters in their dorms. However, due to held grudges, she refused and insisted on living all by herself. Respecting her wish, Her Majesty reserved just the room for her, though still near the dorm of her same class. She continues to live in isolation from the others, occasionally asking for a maid to help with the chores.

Now Howe stood before her door and raised a hand to knock. What mood will she greet her in this time? But before she could, the door slightly opened. On the other side, Monarch peeked outside with a squinted pink eye. She looked up and down at Howe with wide eyes. Howe smiled.

"What took you so long?" Monarch said. "And what's with the dress?"

Howe raised the warped box. "I brought some sweets."

Monarch raised an eyebrow as she stared at it. "Sweets?"

"Yes, they're Sardegnan sweets. You know, pastries."

Monarch glared at it one more time before sighing. "Alright, come in," sliding off the chain lock, she opened the door and stood to the side.

"Thank you. Although I do believe you should get rid of that lock. It's quite unnecessary, don't you think?"

Monarch shrugged. "Mhm."

Stepping inside, Howe glanced around the familiar space. The walls were covered in black wallpaper, suited to Monarch's taste, even though Howe thought it was unfitting. A large chandelier hung on the ceiling, casting light all over the otherwise dark room. And on the floor, a tiger fur rug was laid along with two cushioned armchairs with carved designs of a crown and lions, a high-backed couch and a black tea table.

Howe took a seat on one of the two armchairs and placed her box on the table.

"Tea will be delivered by Sheffield," Monarch said.

Howe smiled. "Good. I have quite the story to tell. It'll come as a surprise at first, as it was to me, but I'll explain it to you once we get settled. Mind to sit down?"

Monarch stared at Howe and simply stood. "I... have something to show you. I'll need you to wait."

"Alright, no pressure. Just make sure to come back, alright? It would be a shame if this visit were just me sitting here alone."

"Mhm."

With that, Monarch retreated towards the corridor to her room.

As Howe waited, she hummed a tune and swung her legs back and forth below her seat. Looking around, a window sat on one wall covered by red curtains. Nearby, a cabinet stood, its shelves lined with dusted books along with two paintings on the walls. One displayed an old, worn-down house, and the other a lady in black garments sitting alone in a dark room. There was also a stone fireplace installed on one of the walls, but it was unlit.

Howe sighed at the scenes. It was a bit too severe for her tastes. Instead of the walls being black, she'd prefer peach or blush pink, and for the decorations, a potted plant or two and some portraits of green sceneries or ships on the vast ocean. The chandelier could be smaller, along with the stone fireplace, which in their dorms was made out of bricks. There'd be a woollen carpet instead of the exotic tiger fur rug, and no carvings on the chairs.

A whistling noise came from the corridor, followed by a click. Just as Howe turned her head towards it, Sheffield was holding a tray of tea cups and a kettle.

"Lady Howe, good evening," Sheffield said in a monotone voice. "If you may not have already guessed, tea is ready." She set the cups on the table and filled them with tea.

As the tea poured, Monarch came out of the corridor holding a silver medal. "Look, another medal. Queen Elizabeth awarded this to me for winning the exercises five times in a row as the flagship. Doesn't that show my strength?"

Howe smiled. "That's wonderful. At this point, compared to mine, you're going to outshine me thrice as much. I hope that isn't your goal."

A subtle smirk flashed along Monarch's face before returning to neutrality. "It isn't. Rest assured, I have no grievance with you, but with Wales and York... I hope they have even an inkling of worth to show me when we compare to each other. Do you understand?"

Howe frowned. "Monarch, not this again. My sisters are good people. They don't mean to take issue with you. You should forgive them."

"Bah. It was their fault I was rejected. If the Royal Navy truly needed someone like me, then they should have made me first, not them." Monarch crossed her arms. "If you're just here to make a case for them, then I would ask you to leave."

Howe peered at her before sighing. "Well then, I suppose I won't be able to change your mind on this matter for now. Let's talk about something else. Mind taking a seat?"

Monarch hesitated, glaring at Howe for a moment. "Mhm," she took her seat.

"Lady Monarch, Lady Howe," Sheffield bowed. "Now that you have no use of me, I humbly ask myself to take my leave. I'm sure both of you would prefer privacy over my presence."

Monarch nodded. "Go on then."

"Thank you, Sheffield," Howe said. "Your service was most appreciated."

With one more bow, Sheffield strode towards the door and left with a click.

"Now that that's out of the way," Howe reached for her tea and took a tentative sip. "Mmm, shall we start?"

"Yes," Monarch put her elbow on the armrest and rested her chin on a fisted hand. "I would like to know why you dressed so formally in such attire. Perhaps something of interest had occurred without my knowing."

A giggle escaped Howe's lips. "It seems I've gotten the attention of more than I originally intended."

"Was there a special banquet held? A meeting with Her Majesty? Or maybe something more personal, like a planned date?"

Howe almost choked on her tea, blushing. Not her either. "N-No, it's not a date. Why does everyone keep saying that? If I knew people would've thought this, then I would've changed into a different set of clothes. Not that it mattered when Akagi almost—" Howe covered her mouth. "Oops."

"When Akagi, what?" Monarch's eyes narrowed. "What happened with Akagi?"

Howe paused as she took another sip of her tea. "Never mind that. I misspoke."

"No, tell me." Monarch leaned forward, eyes glinting. "You've piqued my interest."

Howe sat still, her eyes darting away from Monarch's. Should she tell her? She wasn't particularly proud of her scuffle with Akagi earlier. She didn't want to give it more attention than it had. However, the way Monarch's eyes shone told her this could potentially make her more open. Maybe she'd gain her respect as fighting equals? Only one way to find out.

Howe cleared her throat. "Have I now? That's odd for you to say, considering you once called me a 'people pleaser'."

"That was back in the day when I barely knew you." Monarch reached for a pastry from the box. "Now's different. Tell me, or I'll pass by you the next time you invite me to your table in the cafeteria."

Howe pressed her lips together. No turning back now. "Alright, but don't overreact. The last thing I want is for this to escalate into something faction-wide."

"I'll try not to." Monarch pinched the honey-soaked pastry between her fingers, sniffing it before taking a bite. "Good."

Howe exhaled and set down her cup.

"Then listen carefully, it all started when..."

_

Silence.

Not a crack heard.

Not a word from the audience.

Just silence.

Howe slowly opened her eyes, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest.

A fist hovered just inches from her face. Its steel-like form trembled before its restrained weight. Behind it, Akagi—eyes wide, lips parted, staring at the hand that caught her fist.

"Who..." Akagi said.

Her gaze followed the hand, past the arm, to the shoulder, then to the face. Akagi's complexion grew pale.

"A-Amagi, nee-sama?" Akagi said.

Amagi exhaled and closed her eyes. "That's enough, Akagi," she brushed Akagi's hand aside. "You've caused more than enough trouble today."

Clutching her hand, Akagi stepped back to the side. "N-Nee-sama, what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in the command room?"

Amagi nodded. "Yes, but I've heard about your scuffle," she turned her parasol to shade both herself and her sister. "It seemed that you needed me."

Behind the parasol, Lung Wu appeared and hurried towards Howe. "Lady Howe, Lady Howe, are you alright? Did you get hurt? I was so worried..."

Howe stood still, staring at the fox sisters, then she turned to Lung Wu. "Yes, I'm alright. The hit didn't land."

Lung Wu sighed in relief. "As soon as Akagi stormed towards you, I knew I had to find her older sister. Thank goodness she came just in time."

Lowering her gaze to her sister, Akagi's fox ears and tails drooped, but when she glanced at Howe and Lung Wu, they shot up again, and she growled. "Nee-sama, that's the woman who started the conflict. She was the one who provoked and pushed me. All I did was defend myself."

Amagi looked at Howe. Her lavender eyes warmed up, then she turned to Akagi. "Akagi..."

"She was the one who started this mess. She was the one who intended to do something inappropriate. Nee-sama, I only—"

Amagi raised her hand, cutting Akagi off and causing her to step back. "We'll talk about this later," she said, motioning to Kaga, who stood watching at a table. "For now, we'll return to our dorms."

With one last glare at Howe, Akagi looked at her sister. She stood, her fisted hands trembling, but eventually she bowed towards Amagi. "Of course, Nee-sama." She stormed towards the exit. "If that is your wish."

Keeping her gaze towards Akagi, Amagi motioned Kaga to step closer. "Kaga, please keep watch over your sister," she coughed. "I'll follow suit."

Kaga nodded and followed Akagi out.

Shifting her parasol to the other side to reveal her face, Amagi turned to Howe. "My sincerest apologies on behalf of my young sister," She bowed. "She too often resorts to emotions rather than reason. No contempt was intended."

Amagi lowered herself, her eyes closed, shoulders held together, and ears and tails dipping into soft curves.

So this was it—the younger, fiery Akagi tempered by the older, calm Amagi. It wasn't the first time an older sister tried to protect their younger sibling. Howe recalled how George vouched for her in social circles, went out of her way to show her in the best light possible, or stayed present when settling disputes. Now, it seemed similar—Amagi to Akagi as George was to her.

The folds of Amagi's crimson kimono drifted as flowing waves of silk, and her parasol glided with her. She rose once more.

"It was no issue, really," Howe said, gesturing a palm side to side. "I do understand how she is; her jealous side, so to speak."

"Then I trust that no grudges would form out of this?"

"None."

Amagi's brows unfurrowed, and her lips curved into a faint smile. "Good." She inclined her head forward as if to say 'thank you' before turning to the other side and gliding to the exit.

A hush fell over the cafeteria as shipgirls looked at each other and whispered within their groups.

"What a relief." Lung Wu said. "All I'm thankful for is that nobody got hurt."

Howe stood silent, holding the box. The fact that Akagi had almost landed the punch, if not for the timely intervention of Amagi, only now sent a shiver down her spine. She quivered.

"Umm, will you be alright, Lady Howe?" Lung Wu turned to Howe, eyes widening.

Howe drew in a breath and smoothed down her dress. "Yes, I believe so."

Scanning Howe, Lung Wu's brows furrowed before she sighed. "Alright, but if you ever need help, we'll be here for you."

Howe nodded. "I appreciate it, thank you."

Lung Wu smiled. "Now that that's out of the way, I do believe someone else needs to be taught to contain their outbursts lest they get someone almost punched again." She shot a glare at Libeccio. On making eye contact with her, Libeccio promptly hid behind the counter.

"Don't be too hard on her." Howe giggled. "I get that it's not entirely her fault."

Folding her sleeves, Lung Wu huffed. "Well, she'll be solely on dishwashing duty for the whole night, that's for sure." She turned to Howe. "Anyway, I hope you stay alright. I'd better get back to the kitchen. They'll be needing me for tomorrow's Eagle Union special."

"Yes, I'd best be going as well." Howe glanced at a clock. "I don't want to keep Monarch waiting."

With that, both shipgirls said their goodbyes and stepped away, the usual chatter and clinking of utensils in the cafeteria returning to normal.

Howe particularly cradled the warped box for Monarch. Damaged as it is, it was the box she fought for, the box she protected. To throw it away and get a new one would put her efforts to vain. Not that she minded, after all, the box itself wasn't the important thing, but the sweets it contained. Nevertheless, Howe hugged it tight. This was for Monarch, and she won it, but a thought crept to her mind—would she have to fight for another box sometime ahead? If so, for whom, and will she win it that time?

She shook her head as she crossed the door and stepped into the hallway. For now, Monarch needed her, and that's what matters.

_

Monarch stared at Howe as she chewed the honeyed sweet, her brows furrowed. "Let me get this straight, Akagi attacked you over that dress?"

"Mhm mhm."

Swallowing, Monarch narrowed her eyes. "Then why wear it?"

"Well, to be honest," Howe rubbed the back of her arm. "I've left out an important detail from the very start."

Monarch flared her nose. "Well? Out with it."

Sipping her tea, Howe couldn't help but press her lips together. She had smiled earlier and sped her pace at the thought, but now it seemed her nerves had cooled in saying the fact that she was the new secretary to Monarch. She didn't know how Monarch would take the news, how it would affect their meetings, and so on. Would she share her happiness? Scowl in disapproval? Or shrug in between? Well, she'll get to know eventually, why delay it?

Howe cleared her throat. "As per Her Majesty's orders, I was chosen to represent the Royal Navy in High Command. From now on, I serve as the Commander's secretary."

A pause settled in as Monarch sipped her tea. Then she choked on it.

"What? Secretary? You?" She said, coughing in between.

Howe scratched her head and simpered. "Well, I expected you to be happy for me, aren't you?"

"Happy?" Monarch's coughs abated, and she frowned. "Why should I?"

"Well, for starters, your sister was entrusted with a prestigious role. How could you not be happy?"

Monarch furrowed her brows before she sighed. "Alright, fine, but don't expect me to congratulate you. I'm not one for celebrations."

"Good enough," Howe said, reaching for a sweet in the box.

Silence settled in as the sisters bit on their sweets or sipped their tea. It wasn't until a few minutes or so that someone finally spoke up.

"So," Monarch said, her lips teetering at the edge of her cup. "How's it like?"

"Hmm?"

"What's it like... to serve as the Commander's secretary?"

Her eyes widened, and Howe paused. "Oh, well, for now it's simple. All I did was help the Commander sort out his documents, then send them to Akashi's office. It's nothing complicated, though I do expect it to get difficult as time passes."

Monarch stared down at her cup as she listened, brows furrowed and lips pressed together. "Does he... treat you well?"

Howe opened her mouth, but no words came until her own brows furrowed too.

While it was true she had only recently met the Commander, her thoughts of him were already far off. From the charismatic, genius leader everyone thought him to be, to the average, day-to-day recluse he was. A part of her was thankful that, as far as she knew, he was human too, with flaws and fears. It relieved a part of the weight she didn't know she was holding, how she didn't have to measure up to one more person, such as him. Nevertheless, it was this role that allowed her to prove her worth to everyone, and she wouldn't waste it. The Commander, though—another someone she had to take care of.

"It's a bit too early to tell." Howe finally said. "But he is kind, a bit aloof sometimes, yet workable nonetheless."

Monarch's brows unfurrowed, and her shoulders relaxed. "Mhm." She took a sip of her tea.

Another silence fell over the sisters.

"But you know..." Howe said. "I heard he has his own problems, too."

Monarch raised an eyebrow.

"Like how he sometimes stares at the window, or how he smiles just a bit too much. It's like he's hiding something."

Howe looked at Monarch, her eyes scrutinizing her face, but instead of widened eyes and parted lips, she was met with a frown.

"So?"

"Don't you feel bad about him?"

"Bah." Monarch waved a hand off. "With people like him, surrounded by many shipgirls, who gives a damn about what he feels. He has everything he needs: power, respect, attention and God knows what else his position could give him. If I were you, I wouldn't waste my energy on him. Better put that energy somewhere else." She bit into a jam-filled cornetto and then spat it out. "What is this?"

Howe sat still, letting her tea ripple. Perhaps Monarch was right. Maybe she was letting her emotions get the better of her. After all, the Commander was a powerful figure; he didn't need someone to look after him, right? That was what she told herself as she took another sip of her tea, but instead of sweetness and warmth, it tasted stale and cold.

"But at least someone has to watch out for him," Howe said. "Yes, he has authority, yes, he's popular, but wouldn't that not matter if he felt... lonely?"

Narrowing her eyes, Monarch couldn't help but clench her jaw. "Lonely? That's absurd. How can he be lonely when he's got shipgirls flirting with him every day? If anything, he could be drunk with delight all day." She shifted in her seat. "What's with you and him, by the way? Have you fallen in love?"

"I-" Howe stopped before she realized what Monarch had said. She blushed. "W-What? Don't be ridiculous. I only just met him recently." She cleared her throat. "What I'm trying to say is that even if he has all the power in the world, don't you think that it comes with a cost? Don't you think that he's alone up there with no one he can rely on?"

A pause filled the room as Monarch glanced down and put her hand below her chin. Then she looked back up, her hand tightening on the armrest. "If that is your sentiment, then so be it."

Howe exhaled and eased her shoulders, her heart beating in a steady rhythm.

Then Monarch pounded her seat, making a thud reverberate throughout the room.

"But be warned," Monarch said. "People such as him draw others to their sorrow. Once you involve yourself with him, you'll be forced to carry his burdens. And don't expect them to ease yours. To them, you're just another source to leech off from. Once they're done with you, they'll cast you aside like the moulted skin of a snake. No gratitude, no reciprocation, just silence." She picked up a sweet, tore off a bite, and chewed it out loud. "Mark my words, Howe, once it's done, you'll regret it with no one beside you."

Howe's grip of her cup tightened, and her shoulders compressed. The words rang in her ear like a struck bell. Then an image surged in her mind like a flash of blinding light. There she was alone in her dark room, slumped on her sagging bed, weeping out tears into the heavy sheets with no one to comfort her. She shook her head.

Monarch yawned. "This conversation bores me. Why don't we talk about something else?"

Howe stared at Monarch with wide eyes, sitting still like a deer caught in headlights. Then she nodded. "Of course. Whatever you wish."

A faint smile appeared on Monarch's face, then she leaned back and sipped her tea. "Ah, well, I've always wanted to talk about Vanguard's accomplishments. She's quite the warrior, though not as much compared to me. You see, there are flaws in her fighting style..."

Howe sat, hearing the words like a jumble of garbled noise. She nodded and sipped her tea, yet behind her eyes shimmered the very fabric of her being—a glowing morph of her dreams, fears and desires, like staring into her own soul. It flickered dim and bright like a star about to blaze into a supernova before mellowing into a flowing wave of colours.

Monarch's words hung like steel weighing a thread, yet that didn't stop her from nudging the line looser and looser. Surely she was using hyperbole to scare her from offering her heart. The same heart that knew cheers and laughter, the same heart that pained from whimpers and sobs. She would not be pushed around and let others bleed. The Commander needed help, and she would offer it. Like a dove offering an olive branch, like a child expressing their love.

And so that was Howe's thought as she heard Monarch.

Her counterpart, however, listened to a different tale—one that pushed his limits.

Chapter Text

A nice way to relax—the Commander's single thought.

Work had fogged his brain. From daily check-in reports, supply requisitions, and event logs, to interfaction correspondence, exercise results, and commission forms. All were necessary in one day, but now, he had someone who helped him, someone he could rely on.

Howe had done her work well. It was because of her precise sorting that they ended early. Fortunate, too, as today's schedule only comprised paperwork—no fleet exercises, faction meetings, or residence visits.

A favourable start as a secretary.

While he pondered this, the Commander sauntered through the scented halls, his boots thudding throughout the corridor. A few shipgirls passed by and greeted him, some even squealing out his name. As always, he returned the gesture with a nod and a smile. Though few saw what his face hid. He had eyelids that drooped, sagging both his eyes with dark circles underneath. As he smiled, his lips didn't reach the corners of his mouth, and behind that was a breath that smelled of coffee and tea.

All he wished was to lie in a heated bath and end the day.

Facing toward a more private wing, the doorway to his dorm stood opposite the end of the corridor. The wooden frame's polished surface shone, with "Commander" engraved above it.

Once the Commander reached it, he pulled a key from his pocket, unlocked the door, and flicked the lights on.

Inside, a mix of the airy staleness of the furniture and muskiness from his cologne entered his nose, and he could taste the saltiness of his own beaded sweat. Past the navy blue walls, a shelf and his wooden coffee table lay his plush white sofa.

Stepping forward, the Commander lifted his cap, unbuttoned his jacket and plunged himself into the cushioned seats. Once his muscles sank in, he let out a groan.

"Ahhh."

Then his mind wandered...

Howe had conducted herself well today. Even with a light workload, her diligence and determination had shown. First, her choice of dress was special. It wasn't too casual where you'd know the shipgirl hadn't given it any thought, or too draconian as to wear a full-on officer uniform with medallions. It was just right. She'd given it much thought, considering how unique it was.

Then there was how she worked. She sat at his desk, engrossed in her duties, as if nothing else mattered. He remembered how she had pursed her lips together, or how her hands moved as if she played the piano for the first time. It made him smile at the thought.

And he shouldn't forget about her cookies—they were perfect. He couldn't remember the last time he had tasted such delicious snacks, and thinking about them now made his mouth water.

Lying there, the Commander heaved a sigh. Something about her fascinated him. Compared to past secretaries, she stood out from the rest.

From Enterprise, Belfast, and Bismarck, who worked in silence, skimming and stacking out papers without a break, Queen Elizabeth, Admiral Hipper, and Nelson, whose insults and lectures on their work ethic had worked more than their hands. To the stammers and creased papers of Nurnberg, Royal Oak, and Hammann, and the snack offers and maternal concerns of Houshou, Illustrious and Amagi.

Uniqueness lay within her, and it shone like a star in the dark sky. A part of him didn't want to admit it, but he found her perhaps... cute.

He shook his head. Cute? No, what is he thinking? What kind of commander thinks about and compares his secretaries just because he feels different about one? That leaned towards favouritism and unprofessionalism, and he praised himself for being fair and respectful. He had to ponder something else...

The Commander turned to his surroundings.

The shelves displayed a variety of miniature plastic ship models, each of its own unique type and class. Battleships, aircraft carriers, cruisers and destroyers—there was one from each faction.

As a child, his eyes used to sparkle at the sight, and his chest puffed at his growing collection, but now it felt different. More work, more ships to oversee. He didn't want to add more burdens to himself, and it no longer gave him any satisfaction.

Except when a particular someone rekindled that lost flame... but that was in the past.

On the walls hung different awards and honours. Medals, ribbons, certificates and titles—all he worked so hard for. As the Commander, he had done so much for Azur Lane, dedicating his whole life to the shipgirls. But instead of holding his head high and feeling a sense of wholeness, like how a painter finishes a portrait, it wasn't enough.

Perhaps he was being greedy. Maybe he hadn't achieved everything yet. Whatever it was, it left a hole in his heart, and he shook his head.

Then his eyes landed on a frame—a photo taken years ago. There he sat at the base of the main building stairs, and around him were all the shipgirls of Azur Lane. From New Jersey, who smiled, waving one hand up and throwing a peace sign with the other. Rodney, with wide eyes, beamed, her mouth open, while Yamashiro lounged with her hands pulled to her chest like a cat's paws, grinning.

Kaga, arms folded, glared, though her ears drooped. Sheffield frowned, her eyes half open, and Takao sat with her posture straight and arms held together on her lap.

Curacao and Cerlew bowed in a curtsy, holding the tips of their skirts as the destroyer Fu Shun ran around, Mutsuki held up a lollipop, and Shimakaze, in mid-air, tripped over her feet.

To Akagi, Taihou, and Roon glaring at each other, shoulders butting over the closest seat to him, Prinz Eugen hugging Prince of Wales from behind, Wales' shoulders tensed, and lips pressed, while Washington's eyes twitched as she forced a smile.

Eldridge emitted some sparks, causing San Diego, Long Island, and Saratoga to jump; Le Malin leaned over to Dunkerque, eyes closed and drooling, and Mustu nudged Nagato, who stared at the camera.

Such and many more were in the shot, but he zoned out...

He only saw himself, his smile and the enthusiasm it exuded. If only he had preserved that same enthusiasm, things would be different, but you can't have everything all at once.

Before his eyes wandered to something else, he saw her in the photo—Howe. She seated herself between her sisters, King George V and Duke of York, lips curved into a soft smile. He didn't understand it, but something about that smile eased the tension in his shoulders. It seemed so genuine, warm, far from his own professional and practiced facade. Maybe she knew something he didn't, and he only had to ask her about it...

No.

It's better if he keeps this to himself. He wouldn't want to clip the wings of an angel just for her to accompany him in his pit. Just as he had almost done to another...

The Commander stood up and stretched.

Now was not the time to think. He had a duty, and it needed him to be functional by tomorrow. These thoughts, he could save for later.

Picking up his jacket and cap, he stepped towards his room. Moments later, he came out with a towel draped over his hand and ambled towards his bath.

_

The tub filled with warm water, enough for steam to rise out of the basin and fog the mirror. As he waited, he set down the towel and stripped naked, letting the warm air wrap around his skin.

He exhaled a breath, knowing that in the next few minutes, responsibility would slip away like an afterthought, and he would soothe his body and mind.

Once the faucet filled the tub, he dipped a finger in. It didn't scald; instead, it sent a shiver down his nerves, reverberating throughout his whole body.

Perfect.

Unwrapping his towel, he stepped into the tub, where the heat pressed against his toes, legs, and eventually his torso, and he let out a sigh.

"Ahhh."

This was it—him, the dripping water and the silence. Nothing more, nothing less. It was all he could hope for after a busy day, and he smiled, closing his eyes...

Then, someone knocked on his door.

The Commander flinched, water rippling all around.

What?

He furrowed his brow, turning his head at the sound.

There was silence.

Shifting in the tub, he glanced around the room. He could've sworn there was something. Was he hearing right? Perhaps a knock? But as he lay there with his mouth agape and scratching his head, there was nothing.

Huh, maybe he misheard.

Leaning back, he looked around once more before he let his head rest against the tub's slope and closed his eyes.

"Mmmm."

Then a knock came, then another.

At this time?

It wasn't until it became incessant that the Commander stormed out of the bath, with water dripping to the floor, and wrapped himself in his towel.

Whatever this was, it better be important.

Crossing his living room, the Commander stepped towards the door and opened it, wind sweeping around his body.

That someone wrapped him in a hug.

"Shikikan! Oh, thank goodness, thank goodness." Her fox ears brushed against the Commander's nose, and tears moistened on his chest. "I thought you were with... I thought you were..."

The Commander stepped back, his hands caught in mid-air. Who? The fox ears certainly narrowed it down, and only a few shipgirls would ever do something like this. And then his eyes narrowed. "A-Akagi?"

Between a sob, Akagi nestled her head against his bare chest, causing heat to rush to his cheeks and make him blush. "You're here, and that's what matters to me," she said. "Akagi will never leave your side."

Tightening her grip, Akagi let out another sob as the Commander's muscles cracked.

"Akagi!"

Akagi's ears shot up on realizing that she'd crushed him with her body, and she let him go. "My apologies, Commander, I didn't mean to—"

The Commander gestured with his hand. "It's alright, I'm fine," he coughed. "Is there a problem? What are you doing here?"

Inhaling a breath, Akagi clasped her hands together in front of her chest, then she hugged him again. "Oh, Shikikan, it's horrible. There's this woman, this pest, and she wanted to visit you, but I stopped her and... and..."

Her voice trembled, and she fell into a round of sobs.

The Commander sighed. Akagi, along with two other shipgirls, was infamous for their mischief, causing drama all around the port.

From petty squabbles in the halls to outright fist fights in the canteen, they all shared the same trait, which was to obsess over him no matter what. No one could explain it, no one dared to ask them why, but if it meant getting a hold of his precious boxers, then restraint was just a suggestion.

As the recipient of all of this, he found it easier to go along with their ploys and remedy any misgivings and damages done to others. After all, they were still human at heart, feeling, hurting, loving, obsessive beings. He didn't have it in him to lock them up or limit them in some capacity. As long as it didn't cross boundaries, then he would be like the accountable parent to their misbehaving antics.

Steadying her to face him, the Commander held his hands on Akagi's shoulders. "Akagi, calm down. What's the matter?"

"I-It's just that..." She sniffed and wiped her tears. "Someone's been trying to steal you away from me, and I just can't accept that."

"Is it Taihou again? Or is it Roon this time?"

Akagi shook her head. "No, it's someone else. Someone you chose to be with."

The Commander raised his brows. "Who?"

"You know," she sniffled. "That new secretary you appointed. Howe."

It clicked. Since the end of their terms as secretaries, Akagi, Roon, and Taihou had always been wary of the new shipgirls he appointed as secretaries. They'd stalk them, sabotage their work, or throw a fit whenever she was around. This became problematic, and the Commander didn't want anyone hurt, so he threatened the three to stop, or they would cease receiving his attention and time.

Initially, they didn't take it well. They stormed into his office, yelled at him for choosing to side with the 'pests' and threatened to create havoc all around the port. The Commander listened in silence, his face shaded from light until he spoke.

He told them that instead of love, resentment guided them—resentment of their factions, resentment of themselves, and especially resentment of him. If they loved him as they said, then they should have been helping him find reasons not to dismiss their affections.

Everyone seemed content with the simple solution—lock them up and forget—everyone but him. He told them how it weighed on him to make the decision, how it wrestled with his values to be the judge of others' fates. However, if they left him with no choice, then he would do it, cut and dry.

And before they could respond with their usual 'but you don't understand the feeling we have' rebuttal, he told them that if they could be selfish by wanting him for themselves, then he could be selfish by letting the whole port have him as the Commander as well.

Although Akagi flashed her fangs, Roon grinned with bloodshot eyes, and Taihou screamed, they had no response. They held this for as long as they could until the flame of their anger died out, and they pleaded for him not to.

And so they stopped, powerless to interfere with the new secretaries, which was why Akagi trembled in his hands, crying out her fears instead of lashing out.

"Akagi, what made you say that?" The Commander said, putting a hand on her back. "You know how I treat my new secretaries. I'm only their commander, nothing more."

"Yes, but this one's different," she sniffled. "She had this dress, and she was carrying sweets, no doubt for you. I had this feeling that she would disturb you, but I kept it to myself until she got exposed."

"Exposed? Where?"

"In the mess hall. A destroyer called her out, and I took it upon myself to stop her."

"Stop her?" The Commander's eyes narrowed as he looked at Akagi. "What did you do?"

Akagi paused, letting a few seconds of silence pass before she tightened her grip on the Commander. "Don't you trust me?! I've been doing what you asked of us all these years. I'd never betray your trust like that, never again." She turned away. "If anything, it shows that you prefer that..." She growled, covered her face and sobbed.

"No, no," the Commander rubbed her back. "It's not like that at all. I do trust you. It's just that I need to know what happened. Can you tell me more? As you said, you were protecting me from her intentions. What happened then?"

Wiping her tears, Akagi turned to him. "I confronted her and said that I knew what she was doing and demanded she stop, but she lied in front of my face and I... I..." She buried herself in his chest.

"Did you hurt her?" The Commander pressed.

Akagi shook her head. "I didn't, I swear I didn't. I only wanted to take the box from her, but as I did, she shoved me into a table and humiliated me."

The Commander breathed a sigh. Thank goodness Howe didn't get hurt, but that last part... did she really do that?

Steadying Akagi, he looked her in the eye. "Alright, it's good that you're being honest with me so far. I appreciate it. But are you sure that she shoved you?"

"Of course, I'm sure," Akagi pulled away. "She pushed me, I fell, and everyone in the cafeteria saw. I'm not making this up; you can attest it with Kaga and Amagi nee-sama." Her voice cracked at the mention of her elder sister. "A-Amagi, she..." Akagi clung to the Commander, "the pest manipulated her," before again sobbing on his chest.

Manipulated? Howe?

Now this was Akagi speaking, and he should take her words with a grain of salt. But it didn't change the fact. Whatever happened earlier must've been disruptive, so much so that Amagi had to intervene. Akagi must be downplaying the conflict or leaving something out, which was expected, but crucial.

He could only rub Akagi's head as his thoughts turned to Howe.

How was she now? Was she alright? Did Akagi really not hurt her? It was one thing to be whispered and complained about and another to be matched against one of the most volatile shipgirls in the port. He could only hope that she was anywhere but in the infirmary, just as had happened to one of his past secretaries...

There it was again—the papers falling to the floor, the loud crack, and blood splattering on his face.

And it was his fault.

_

The afternoon sun shone, piercing through the fresh-scented halls.

Two figures ambled towards Akashi's office, talking. The Commander, with his hands in his pockets, and Mikasa—her voice a soothing melody—held a stack of papers.

It was a question of who should carry the forms and their reasons why.

"As the former flagship of the Sakuran Combined Fleet," Mikasa said. "A few stacks of reports won't bother me. In fact, let me show you now by juggling them." As she shifted her hands from side to side, the papers wobbled, and she balanced them."

The Commander chuckled. "Not quite. It seems you have a lot of training to do."

"Oh yeah? Well, that's only because of how you made my hands work all day long. Perhaps I could have done it if I were rested."

"Hmm... maybe." The Commander nudged his chin. "Say, why don't you let me carry them?" If your hands are tired, then I wouldn't want them to cramp, would I?"

"Oh no, you don't," Mikasa scurried. "This is my responsibility as your secretary, not yours," she turned back. "Plus, you're tired too."

As Mikasa outpaced him, he hastened too. "Hey, no need to rush. I thought you said you were tired?"

Mikasa turned to him. "I never said that." And she sped up again.

As expected from a colleague, he escorted Mikasa after a long day of work. Although he didn't have to, there was nothing left to do in the office, and a short walk could do him good. But part of it was him wanting to go with Mikasa, not that he'd admit.

As they turned the hall, Mikasa looked back, smiling. "See what happens when you stay cooped up all day in that office? A good run ought to do you good, especially if an old lady like me can outpace you."

"Yeah, an old lady with a youthful body. No fair."

It wasn't long before he caught up with her, and he let out a breath, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Caught you."

"Not before sighing," Mikasa stopped and smirked.

Though footsteps echoed nearby, the Commander could only focus on Mikasa. This was the most fun he had in a long while, and it was thanks to her that he got to leave the office for the time being.

"Yeah, well," he scratched his head. "It was out of relief rather than fatigue."

"Really? Why, no one would have guessed~"

But as the two smiled at each other, they didn't notice a figure dressed in black approaching them. She clenched her fists and smiled, though her blood-red eyes betrayed the warmth.

"Why, if it isn't the Commander, and with a friend too?" She cooed, her fists uncurling. "How sweet to see you together so close."

The air chilled around the Commander as he turned to the woman. "R-Roon? What are you doing here?"

Roon giggled. "Oh, I only wanted to see how you were faring. Though..." her lips twitched. "I didn't realize that you were having fun with someone else."

His breath turned shallow, the Commander shifted to Mikasa, who stared at Roon with wide eyes.

"Yes," Mikasa said. "But what is your business here? Aren't you supposed to be on the training grounds?"

Roon took a breath in—causing the Commander's heart to leap—and turned to Mikasa, smiling. "Haven't I said already? I wanted to see the Commander, but apparently..." Her fists clenched. "Someone beat me to it."

The halls grew silent, as if everything froze in place. There was only the shifting of feet, breathing and the cracking of knuckles. In the midst of this, the Commander rubbed his forehead.

"Roon, we've discussed this." He let out a breath. "This isn't... about us, this is work. You have to let me work with other shipgirls."

Roon smiled. "Of course, Commander, work. Work as you chase her down the halls, work as you put a hand on her shoulder and work as you smile so sweetly at her. I've seen what you two were doing, and I know this isn't 'work'."

The Commander narrowed his eyes. "You've been stalking us? I thought I told you—"

"Enough," Mikasa stepped forward. "Miss Roon, whatever it is that you're thinking is wrong. The Commander and I had just finished our paperwork and are now delivering it to Akashi. We were only walking by before you stepped in. That is it."

"Walking by?" Roon turned to Mikasa, her fingers twitching. "That's modest of you to say, considering how you made him chase you like a dog."

Mikasa paused, her brows furrowing, then the Commander cleared his throat. "Roon, I didn't... we didn't mean this, alright? We were goofing around as friends." He stepped forward. "And didn't we talk about this already? No one is going to steal you from me. You have as much right to spend time with me as everyone does. So please, I need you to calm down."

Roon's smile faltered, her face shadowed, and she frowned. "But Commander, that doesn't excuse your behaviour. You were clearly playing with this woman... and that..." She cracked her neck, the pops echoing throughout the corridor. "Merits punishment."

As the hair on his skin rose, the Commander could only turn to Mikasa, who regarded him with wide eyes. Their gazes met, and her pupils dilated. Within them, a sable wave expanded, dimming her eyes like an encroaching shadow before her irises glinted amber again, making the Commander let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Watching this, Roon gritted her teeth. "See? With the way you look at each other, there's more to you than being 'friends,'" she coiled a leg backwards. "And for that... YOU WILL PAY."

In the blink of an eye, Roon sprinted towards the Commander, her hands curling like a tiger's claws in mid-air. Yet, as the Commander stood paralyzed—his pupils dilating—Mikasa stepped in front of him, dropping the papers to the floor and scattering them all around like leaves during a thundering storm. She spread her arms wide to block Roon off with nothing but her body.

Roon's eyes widened, and she steered to a halt just inches from Mikasa. "Get out of my way, you wench. You'll get your punishment once I'm done with him."

Mikasa glared back. "Under no circumstances are you allowed to hurt the Commander. If you go so much as to touch a strand of his hair, then I will see to it that you are detained."

"Detained?" Roon laughed. "Don't test me, weakling." She shoved Mikasa aside.

Mikasa pushed her back and turned to the Commander. "Run!"

But the Commander didn't. His ears rang out her words, his heart raced with adrenaline, but he froze in place. He couldn't leave her behind.

"Commander. What are you—"

Then everything narrowed down to that single moment—Roon's fist driving straight to Mikasa's face, smashing her nose. Bone cracked, and Mikasa's head snapped back, blood spraying onto the Commander's cheek.

"Mikasa—"

He caught her in his arms, blood oozing out of her nose.

"Mikasa..."

There was only the ringing in his ears, the trembling of his fingers and the pounding of his heart as he supported her with his hands. Blood spurted onto his arms and chest, smearing his uniform red, and he covered her nose.

This was his fault. There were many ways this could have ended. They could've calmed Roon down, or he could've complied with her—anything but this. Maybe he should've run away or called for help.

Then it hit him.

He shouldn't have accompanied Mikasa.

As the blood soaked the Commander's hands, Mikasa twitched and let out a groan. "Commander..."

But all he could do was clutch her in his arms.

"So this is all the famed victor of Tsushima could do." Roon stepped forward, smirking. "A pity she didn't put up much of a fight," she flicked a drop of blood from her fingers. "Now that's over with, I'll still have to punish you, Com~man~der~"

The Commander looked up, his fingers tightening. This wasn't a game anymore, and she crossed the line. Instead of a jealous, hurt woman, he could see her for what she truly was—a weapon. A weapon meant for war. A weapon meant to destroy, hurt and kill. And a fire surged within him. This weapon needed to be controlled, lest it injure more.

With each knee trembling, he stood up and looked her in the eyes. Blood red blazed through them, with dark tendrils lashing out at the pupils' edges. In the centre, lay only pure black like a void ready to swallow, and she grinned.

At this sight, he breathed in.

How could he not have seen?

How could he have failed her?

And as he exhaled, he shouted, "BISMARCK!"

_

His words rang out throughout the building, and Roon stepped back with raised eyebrows. She stood paralyzed, but after a while, she looked around. When no one appeared, she turned her gaze to the now kneeling Commander and smiled. "Commander, are you trying to get me in trouble?"

But before she could step forward and snatch him away, footsteps echoed in the distance, footsteps one kansen made.

"ROON."

Roon flinched and turned toward the voice.

There was Bismarck, along with Nagato nearby. She strode towards them, hands balled into fists, cap lowered, and face etched into a grimace.

"Don't move," Bismarck said.

Roon didn't. She clenched her fingers and scowled at the approaching woman. "Zurück! The Commander's mine."

Bismarck glared at her. "I said. Don't move."

At this, Roon gritted her teeth before pouting. "Fine," she muttered. "Nervensäge."

As Bismarck stood between Roon and the Commander and argued with her, Nagato's ears perked, and she sprinted towards Mikasa, kneeling beside her. "Commander, what has happened?"

The Commander glanced up towards Roon before returning to Mikasa.

"Oh," Nagato said. "Will Mikasa be alright?"

"I'm alright," Mikasa said, propping up the Commander's lap. "It's just a small—" She pressed her nose. "AH."

The Commander pulled away. "Sorry, there's just too much blood."

"Here," Nagato offered a piece of cloth.

He took it and covered Mikasa's bleeding nose. "Mikasa, I'm sorry. This shouldn't have happened. I should've stopped her or—"

With a finger, Mikasa covered his mouth. "It's not your fault. I don't want to see you blaming yourself for something you can't control." She tilted herself upward. "Instead of that, why don't you bring me to the infirmary? The hit landed really hard."

The Commander nodded and supported her up, giving her the cloth, but before they could move, Bismarck approached them.

"My sincerest apologies, Kommandant. I should have been more aware of my subordinate's actions." She shot a glance at Roon, who looked away. "Be it as it is, I will hold her accountable for what has happened. This will not occur again."

The Commander scratched his head. "Yes, of course. Do as you see fit. Just don't..." He paused. "...hurt her."

Bismarck bowed and turned to Roon. "Du hast ihn gehört, komm, lass uns gehen, bevor du noch jemandem wehtust." She held Roon's wrist.

"Ja, ja." Roon followed as Bismarck dragged her away. "Nervensäge."

But as Roon followed, she turned back to the Commander. Her eyes still blazed red, her pupils growing darker and darker with each step, and she flashed a grin.

The Commander shivered.

"Will you be alright, Lady Mikasa?" Nagato asked. "I could accompany you throughout your stay in the infirmary."

"No, it's fine." Mikasa waved a hand. "It'll take more than a punch to keep me down. Besides, the Commander's here. He can be the one to accompany me. Right, Commander?" She turned to him.

Yet, instead of nodding and helping her, he froze.

He couldn't. Not after what happened.

Because of him, Roon followed them.

Because of him, Roon didn't calm down.

Because of him, Mikasa got hurt.

It was his fault.

"Commander?" Mikasa said. "Aren't you coming?"

The Commander flinched, then shook his head. "Actually, it might be better if Nagato accompanied you." He knelt and gathered the papers on the ground. "Akashi still needs this paperwork to be delivered, and it would be negligent to leave it here."

Mikasa nodded, though the glint in her eyes dimmed. She waited as he assembled the papers, but Nagato nudged her. "Come now, Lady Mikasa. We must depart in haste lest you faint."

Mikasa lingered, watching him before she turned away. "Yes... let's go."

As they departed, the Commander's hands trembled. His gaze fell to the streaks of blood that stained the papers, blood he had caused.

If he had stayed in the office, would Roon have stalked them? Would Mikasa have been injured as she is now?

No.

She wouldn't have been. It could've been prevented. It could've been—

He crumpled the papers in his hands and looked up.

There she was... glancing back at him.

On her face... her eyes glistened, their usual amber colour tinted with faint red, and her mouth parted as if it wanted to speak but didn't... couldn't.

And she stared at him before facing forward and disappearing.

The Commander lowered his gaze, the papers prickling his hands.

I'm sorry, Mikasa... but this is for your own good.

_

As Akagi weighed in his arms, the memory weighed on his heart.

For it to repeat... For someone innocent to be hurt because of him... He couldn't let that happen.

Not again.

"Shikikan-sama," Akagi whined. "Shikikan..."

He patted Akagi's back, rubbing her ears. "It's alright. I'm here."

But he knew he couldn't be for long. He was their superior, their leader and their commander. To betray their trust—to be blinded by his emotions—was unacceptable. He had a responsibility to fulfill, and it needed him to be focused and detached.

"Shikikan-sama?" Akagi looked up, eyes teary and wide.

The Commander leaned down, meeting them. "Yes?"

"Could I... go into your room?"

He paused. "No."