Chapter 5.2 - “The Weight of Nine Guns”

I. A Battleship and Her Training Wheels

Riko Minase hated the stabilizers.

She hated their size.

She hated the noise they made when she walked.

She hated the way their broad flotation assemblies protruded from either side of her legs, making it almost impossible to forget that she was wearing an enormous collection of machinery designed to prevent her from making mistakes.

Most of all, she hated the fact that they worked.

That was the truly infuriating part.

If the equipment had been badly designed, she could have complained about it without feeling guilty.

If the engineers had made an obvious mistake, she could have demanded that they fix it.

If someone had accidentally fitted her Yamato-class battleship rigging with equipment intended for a completely different ship, she could have marched into the workshop, pointed at the offending machinery, and insisted that the entire situation was unacceptable.

Unfortunately, none of those things was true.

The equipment was doing precisely what it had been designed to do.

And Riko knew it.

She stood in the Keelborn maintenance workshop beneath the bright morning lights, staring at the enormous assembly surrounding her body.

Her dark hair had been brushed into place, with her golden chrysanthemum ornament secured where it belonged. She wore her naval uniform beneath the fitted equipment, and the heavy supports around her waist, hips, and back held the unmistakable machinery of a Yamato-class battleship.

Three massive triple-gun turret assemblies formed the most imposing elements of the arrangement.

Nine 46-centimeter guns.

Eighteen-point-one-inch naval artillery.

The sort of armament that made other battleship girls look at her with interest and made naval engineers calculate ammunition requirements with expressions of intense personal suffering.

The main turrets were not decorative accessories.

They were substantial mechanical structures, connected to the rest of the rigging through reinforced supports and carefully arranged mounting systems. Secondary weapons, protective fittings, propulsion machinery, and class-specific equipment surrounded her in a complicated arrangement that had been designed to reproduce the capabilities of the enormous historical warship within the physical constraints of a Keelborn.

That was already impressive enough.

Unfortunately, somebody had then attached the Mk. I.

Riko looked down.

The additional stabilization frames were broad.

The auxiliary flotation assemblies were broader.

The mechanical supports around her lower body had all the elegance of a floating construction project.

She sighed.

Then sighed again.

Then folded her arms.

"...I look ridiculous."

From somewhere behind her, Hana Saeki answered without looking up.

"You look like someone who is going to remain upright during her training."

Riko turned.

The Akashi-class repair girl stood beside a maintenance trolley, reviewing the inspection notes for Riko's rigging.

Her naturally dark hair was tied back loosely.

Several tools rested within reach.

A technician was checking one of the auxiliary flotation connections, while another examined the propulsion-control linkages.

Riko pointed at herself.

"Look at this!"

Hana glanced up.

"I am looking."

"It's enormous!"

"Yes."

"It's bulky!"

"Yes."

"I can barely turn around without feeling like I'm moving a warehouse!"

"An exaggeration."

"A small warehouse!"

Hana considered that.

"Still an exaggeration."

Riko groaned.

"Hana!"

The repair ship set down her clipboard.

"Riko."

"What?"

"Would you prefer that the stabilizers were smaller?"

"Yes!"

"And the flotation aids less intrusive?"

"Yes!"

"And the propulsion limits less restrictive?"

"Yes!"

Hana nodded.

"Excellent."

Riko brightened.

"Really?"

"Then pass the evaluations required to reduce them."

The battleship stared.

Hana returned to her inspection notes.

For several seconds, Riko stood perfectly still.

Then she made a wounded noise.

"...That's cruel."

"That's engineering."

"Same thing."

One of the technicians coughed into his sleeve.

Riko narrowed her eyes.

"You're laughing."

"No, miss."

"You are."

"Just clearing my throat."

"Hmph."

She turned back toward the enormous rigging.

There it was.

The problem she couldn't argue her way out of.

Her actual Yamato-class equipment was already there, carried around her body through the articulated supports of a Keelborn battleship.

The Mk. I wasn't a separate ship she could simply discard and replace with a better one.

It was an additional training configuration attached to the machinery she already possessed.

The stabilizers.

The reserve flotation.

The conservative propulsion governors.

The assistance mechanisms that intervened whenever her movements became too abrupt.

Removing those systems wouldn't magically make her stronger.

It would simply leave her responsible for controlling far more of the machinery herself.

And if she couldn't?

Well.

The lagoon was full of water.

And Yamato-class equipment was very heavy.

Riko looked toward Hana.

"...I'm going to pass."

The repair ship nodded.

"I hope you do."

"I'm serious!"

"So am I."

"I want to move properly."

"I know."

"I want to be able to turn without these things fighting me."

"I know."

"I want to be able to fight without feeling like somebody attached training wheels to an entire battleship!"

Hana finally looked up.

Her expression softened slightly.

"Then we need to find out what you're capable of doing without them."

Riko's mouth closed.

For a moment, she simply stood there.

Then she nodded.

"...Right."

Hana returned the nod.

"Right."

A pause followed.

Then Riko glanced toward the auxiliary supports.

"Could we at least make them less ugly?"

"No."

"HANAAA!"

 

II. The Girl Who Chose Yamato

There had been a time when Riko had thought becoming a Yamato-class battleship would be the greatest thing in the world.

Back when FRONTLINE HEARTS had still been something she experienced through virtual reality, the choice had seemed obvious.

Why settle for something ordinary?

Why pick a small destroyer or an auxiliary vessel when the game offered legendary battleships with enormous guns and magnificent equipment?

Riko had wanted something impressive.

Something powerful.

Something nobody could ignore.

She had spent far too long customizing her avatar.

The original design had been tall, elegant, and imposing, with long dark hair, a carefully selected white-and-navy uniform, and a golden chrysanthemum ornament that she had loved enough to keep after the Crisis.

She had imagined herself standing on the water like a naval goddess.

Three great triple-gun turrets arranged around her.

The wind moving through her hair.

The ocean glittering beneath her feet.

Enemies hesitating simply because they recognized what kind of ship she represented.

It had been a wonderful fantasy.

Then Hour Zero happened.

And Riko discovered that being a Yamato-class battleship was considerably more complicated when the machinery was real.

For one thing, she was no longer the tall, glamorous woman she had designed.

She was Riko Minase.

Nineteen years old.

Shorter than the figure she'd imagined.

Possessing a perfectly ordinary human body that had never been designed to carry the mechanical equivalent of a warship.

The first time she had been fitted with her actual equipment, she'd nearly fallen over before the propulsion systems were even active.

The technicians had been patient.

Hana had been patient.

Aster had been patient.

Riko had been considerably less patient.

Eventually, the Mk. I assistance configuration had allowed her to begin moving across the water.

It had been humiliating.

And wonderful.

And terrifying.

All at once.

She remembered standing in the shallows with the broad flotation supports surrounding her legs, staring at the water and wondering whether she would sink the moment she moved forward.

Then she had moved.

Just a little.

Her rigging had carried her.

The water had passed beneath her feet.

And for a few seconds, she'd felt exactly the way she'd imagined feeling when she first selected Yamato.

Then she'd attempted a turn.

The result had been less dignified.

Aster had laughed.

Yuna had looked deeply sympathetic.

Which was somehow worse.

And Hana had threatened to install a bell that rang every time Riko complained about her stabilizers.

Riko had briefly considered requesting a different repair ship.

Fortunately, she'd recovered her senses before expressing that thought aloud.

Now, months later, she was considerably better.

She could maintain her position.

She could accelerate without panicking.

She could turn within her equipment's permitted limits.

She could coordinate with other Keelborn.

She had even fought real enemies.

The guns surrounding her were not merely beautiful decorations.

She had felt their recoil.

Heard their thunder.

Seen shells leave their barrels toward enemies that were trying to kill people she knew.

And she had learned something she hadn't understood when she first chose the class.

Having the biggest guns didn't make the rest of war disappear.

It didn't make her immune to fear.

It didn't make her friends invulnerable.

And it certainly didn't make the names on Horizon's casualty lists any easier to read.

Riko stood quietly while the technicians finished checking her equipment.

Beyond the workshop doors, the morning sunlight glittered across the harbor.

She looked toward the sea.

Her expression became determined.

She hadn't chosen Yamato so that she could stand safely behind everyone else forever.

But if she wanted to protect people properly, she couldn't keep relying on the stabilizers to compensate for every mistake.

She needed to learn.

Not eventually.

Now.

 

III. The Veteran Battleship

"You're glaring at the machinery again."

Riko turned.

Nadya stood near the workshop entrance.

The Sevastopol-class battleship looked considerably more comfortable in her own skin than Riko felt inside her rigging.

Her white hair caught the light from the open doorway, and her oxidized copper-green eyes moved over the Yamato-class equipment with the calm interest of someone who understood exactly how much trouble battleship machinery could cause.

Riko straightened.

"Nadya!"

The older battleship girl approached.

"Morning."

"Good morning!"

Nadya examined the stabilizers.

"Still unhappy?"

Riko folded her arms.

"I hate these things."

"So you've mentioned."

"They're holding me back."

Nadya raised an eyebrow.

"Are they?"

"Yes!"

"Or are they preventing you from moving beyond what you can safely control?"

Riko opened her mouth.

Then closed it.

Nadya nodded thoughtfully.

"That's what I thought."

Riko groaned.

"Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"Because it's true."

"I know it's true!"

"Then why are you arguing?"

Riko stared at her.

The older battleship girl smiled faintly.

For a moment, Riko considered sulking.

Then she sighed.

"...Because I want to be better."

Nadya's expression softened.

"That's reasonable."

"I want to move like you."

"Do you?"

"Yes!"

The Sevastopol-class girl looked toward her own equipment.

Older battleship machinery.

Different gun arrangements.

Different weight distribution.

Different propulsion characteristics.

It wasn't elegant in the same way as some newer designs.

But Nadya wore it with the assurance of someone who knew its limitations intimately.

She looked back at Riko.

"Then stop trying to move like me."

Riko blinked.

"...What?"

"Your machinery isn't mine."

"I know that."

"Your balance isn't mine. Your turning characteristics aren't mine. Your gun mounts are different. Your propulsion arrangement is different."

Nadya nodded toward the Yamato-class assembly.

"And you have more weight distributed around your body than most of the girls training in this lagoon."

Riko looked down.

Nadya continued.

"Learn what your own ship wants to do before you try making it do what somebody else's can."

The younger battleship considered that.

"...You make it sound like the equipment has a personality."

"Sometimes it feels that way."

Riko laughed.

Nadya smiled.

Then approached the rigging's rear support assembly.

She examined the engineering markings.

"Are they checking your recoil supports again?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Riko frowned.

"They've already been inspected."

"And they'll be inspected again."

"But—"

"Riko."

The girl stopped.

Nadya's voice remained gentle.

"Those supports took real loads during the fighting. You used equipment that was still under training restrictions in circumstances nobody originally intended."

Riko looked down.

The memory returned.

The terrible sound of her guns.

The violent forces transferred through the mounting systems.

The technicians working afterward to determine whether anything had been damaged.

She had been proud that she'd been able to fight.

And frightened when she'd learned how close her equipment had come to exceeding what it was designed to tolerate.

"...I know."

"Then let them do their work."

Riko nodded.

Nadya regarded her for a moment.

Then asked, "What are you hoping to accomplish today?"

The answer came immediately.

"Intermediate qualification."

The older battleship raised an eyebrow.

"Today?"

"At least something toward it!"

"Ah."

Riko looked embarrassed.

"I know they aren't just going to take everything off."

"Good."

"But I want to prove I can handle more."

Nadya nodded slowly.

"Then give them a reason to believe you."

Riko straightened.

"Right."

"And one more thing."

"Yes?"

Nadya folded her arms.

"If you pass a difficult evaluation, don't immediately demand another one."

Riko blinked.

"Why not?"

"Because fatigue is real."

"I know."

"Then act like it."

A pause.

Riko looked away.

"...Everyone keeps telling me to slow down."

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Nadya's expression became thoughtful.

Then she stepped closer.

"Do you want to know something?"

Riko looked up.

"What?"

"I was impatient when I started, too."

The younger girl's eyes widened.

"Really?"

"Very."

"But you're always so calm!"

Nadya laughed.

"Now, perhaps."

She looked toward the water.

"Not when I was learning."

Riko stared at her with renewed interest.

The older battleship smiled.

"Nobody is born knowing how to handle a warship."

She glanced toward Riko's machinery.

"Not even one who chose to become Yamato."

Riko lowered her eyes.

Then smiled.

"...Right."

 

IV. The Training Lagoon

The morning training area had been prepared with considerably more care than Riko remembered from her earliest sessions.

That alone was encouraging.

At the beginning, the lagoon had seemed like a wonderfully enormous playground.

Now she recognized the reason for every marker.

The outer buoys defined the operating limits.

The inner markers identified turning points.

A separate recovery corridor remained clear so that damaged or exhausted equipment could return without crossing another girl's path.

A safety launch waited beyond the eastern edge of the course, with medical personnel aboard.

The maintenance platform provided access to engineers and support equipment.

And the communications station stood beneath a shaded awning, its operators monitoring the exercise channels and recording the results.

Riko approached the water.

Her rigging moved with her.

Heavy support structures settled through their fitted mounting points.

The auxiliary flotation assemblies extended beside her legs.

The additional Mk. I stabilization equipment produced a faint mechanical hum as the control systems completed their checks.

She looked down at the machinery.

Then toward the open lagoon.

"All right."

Her voice was quiet.

"Let's do this properly."

"Talking to yourself again?"

Riko turned.

Aster stood on the nearby platform, holding a clipboard.

Her dark-auburn hair was tied back with its familiar red ribbons, and her Fletcher-class uniform moved gently in the breeze.

She looked annoyingly cheerful.

Riko narrowed her eyes.

"Are you here to help or make fun of me?"

Aster smiled.

"Both."

"ASTER!"

"What?"

"You're supposed to be an instructor!"

"I am!"

"Then instruct!"

Aster considered that.

Then nodded gravely.

"Very well. Lesson one: shouting at your equipment doesn't make it move faster."

Riko groaned.

Yuna Mori approached from the adjacent servicing area.

The Illustrious-class carrier wore her own training rigging, its broad mechanical flight-deck arrangements and supporting structures carefully secured.

Her naturally dark hair was neat, and her glasses sat comfortably on her nose.

She had a notebook tucked beneath one arm.

"Actually," Yuna said, "I believe Riko has already conducted an extensive experimental investigation into that question."

Riko turned.

"YUNA!"

The carrier adjusted her glasses.

"Unfortunately, the results have been inconclusive."

Aster burst out laughing.

Riko stared at them both.

Then pointed toward the lagoon.

"I'm going to do so well today that neither of you will have anything to say!"

Aster grinned.

"Oh, that's dangerous."

"What is?"

"Setting impossible goals."

Yuna nodded thoughtfully.

"Especially the part about getting us to stop talking."

Riko made a frustrated noise.

From the communications platform, Calla looked up.

"Ladies."

All three turned.

The Atlanta-class veteran regarded them with an expression of patient resignation.

"Are you finished?"

Aster straightened.

"Yes, ma'am!"

Riko followed.

"Yes!"

Yuna nodded politely.

"Of course."

Calla looked at them for another moment.

Then sighed.

"Good."

She pointed toward the training chart.

"Today we're reviewing your individual progress, not running a full formation exercise. Riko will complete a series of maneuvering and stability assessments. Yuna will assist with observation and communications. Aster will supervise technique from the platform."

Riko blinked.

"Aster isn't coming out?"

Aster raised her clipboard.

"Medical restrictions."

"Oh."

Riko's expression softened.

"Are you still hurting?"

Aster considered the question.

"A little sore."

"Then you should rest!"

The Fletcher-class girl grinned.

"Look at you, giving sensible advice."

Riko flushed.

"I'm serious!"

"So am I."

Aster tapped the clipboard.

"I'm allowed to supervise from here. Calla's handling the exercise, and Hana's watching the equipment."

Riko looked toward the maintenance station.

Hana was already standing beside Dain and two technicians.

The repair ship raised one hand in greeting.

Riko waved back.

Then turned toward the water.

Today wasn't going to be about proving she could shoot the biggest guns.

It wasn't about impressing people.

It was about something considerably harder.

Demonstrating that she could handle the machinery without needing the training systems to rescue her from every mistake.

She drew a slow breath.

Then stepped into the lagoon.

 

V. Nine Guns Don't Make You Graceful

The first exercise was deceptively simple.

Straight-line movement.

Controlled acceleration.

Steady speed.

Controlled deceleration.

Then a gradual turn and return to the starting position.

Riko knew the procedure.

She had performed variations of it dozens of times.

But today, Calla wanted more than simply completing the course.

The evaluation would examine how much assistance the Mk. I systems needed to provide while Riko performed each maneuver.

If she leaned too far, the stabilizers would intervene.

If she accelerated too aggressively, the propulsion governors would prevent the machinery from responding beyond its permitted limits.

If she began losing her balance, the assistance system would correct the motion before it became dangerous.

All of those interventions would be recorded.

Completing the course wasn't enough.

She needed to demonstrate that her own movements were becoming increasingly controlled.

Riko stood at the starting marker.

She checked her equipment.

Propulsion ready.

Balance indicators normal.

Stabilization assistance active.

Weapon systems secured.

No live ammunition loaded.

The immense turret structures remained in their approved training positions, their traversing mechanisms locked against unauthorized movement.

She looked toward Calla.

"Yamato ready."

Calla answered over the training radio.

"Yamato, Controller. Begin exercise one on my mark. Maintain the assigned speed schedule and report any abnormal response."

Riko lifted her microphone.

"Understood. Standing by."

She glanced toward the course.

The water was calm.

Not perfectly flat.

A gentle swell moved across the lagoon, just enough to make the surface change beneath her equipment.

She waited.

Then Calla's voice returned.

"Yamato, begin."

Riko eased the propulsion controls forward.

Her rigging responded.

Not dramatically.

Not with the spectacular acceleration she sometimes imagined.

The machinery settled into motion, and a broad, gently spreading wake formed behind her.

She concentrated on her balance.

The heavy turret assemblies made themselves felt through their support structures.

The auxiliary flotation systems maintained a stable position alongside her legs.

As she accelerated, she resisted the temptation to lean forward too aggressively.

The equipment hummed.

The water moved beneath her.

And Riko felt the familiar sensation of being carried along by an enormous machine that responded to movements much smaller than its appearance suggested.

She smiled.

Easy.

The thought came almost automatically.

Then she caught herself.

No.

Not easy.

Familiar.

There was a difference.

She reached the first marker.

Maintained speed.

Adjusted her position.

Then began slowing.

The propulsion system responded.

The stabilizers made only minor corrections.

She smiled again.

From the observation platform, Aster watched the telemetry.

"Good start!"

Riko raised one hand.

"Of course!"

Aster immediately shouted back.

"Both hands where they're supposed to be!"

Riko snapped her hand down.

"...Right!"

Yuna made a note.

Aster laughed.

And Riko began the turn.

This was where things became interesting.

A Yamato-class battleship did not turn like a Fletcher-class destroyer.

Her equipment was heavier.

Broader.

Much less willing to change direction abruptly.

The great turret assemblies carried their own mass, and the articulated structures supporting them needed time to follow her movement.

If she shifted her weight too aggressively, the rigging responded in ways she didn't always anticipate.

If she tried to force the machinery around too quickly, the stabilizers intervened.

And if she overcorrected, the entire process became an embarrassing argument between Riko Minase and several tons of very expensive naval equipment.

She had lost those arguments before.

Today, she intended to do better.

Riko began the turn.

Slowly.

Her left side shifted.

The propulsion arrangement adjusted.

The heavy frames began following the change in direction.

She could feel the moment when the machinery wanted to continue along its original path.

She resisted the urge to force it.

Instead, she gave the turn time to develop.

The rigging rotated.

Her wake curved.

The auxiliary supports remained stable.

She passed the marker.

Then straightened.

For several seconds, Riko didn't quite believe what had happened.

She'd made the turn.

Not perfectly.

Not quickly.

But without fighting her equipment.

And without the Mk. I making any dramatic correction.

She grinned.

"Ha!"

Aster's voice came through the radio.

"Yamato, Fletcher observation. That was much better."

Riko smiled so broadly that her cheeks hurt.

"Really?"

"Really. Your weight transfer was smoother, and you didn't try to drag the entire rear mounting assembly around at once."

"Yes!"

"Don't get distracted. You're still on the course."

Riko straightened.

"Right!"

She returned to the starting marker.

Slowed.

Stopped.

Then looked toward the platform.

Calla reviewed the telemetry.

Hana leaned toward one of the monitoring screens.

Dain said something to a technician.

Aster smiled.

Yuna raised a thumb.

Riko felt an enormous surge of satisfaction.

The exercise hadn't been exciting.

Nobody had fired a gun.

Nothing had exploded.

But she'd done something that had once seemed impossibly awkward.

And the equipment had responded to her.

Not the other way around.

 

VI. The Stabilizer Problem

The second exercise did not go nearly as well.

Riko had expected that.

At least, she told herself she had.

The new course required several changes of direction while maintaining a consistent distance from the markers.

The turning radii were generous.

The speeds were conservative.

Nothing exceeded the normal training envelope.

But the course demanded more frequent adjustments than the first exercise.

And Riko discovered that one successful turn did not automatically make her good at every turn.

She approached the second marker.

Began shifting her weight.

Felt the rigging respond.

Then noticed she was carrying slightly more speed than she'd intended.

She adjusted.

Too much.

The outer stabilization system intervened.

A warning indicator illuminated.

Riko's shoulders tightened.

The machinery corrected the imbalance before it became dangerous.

She remained upright.

But she knew what had happened.

The Mk. I had saved her.

Again.

Her expression darkened.

"...Damn it."

Calla's voice sounded through the radio.

"Yamato, Controller. Report."

Riko swallowed.

"Stabilization intervention during the turn. No damage. Regaining assigned position."

"Acknowledged. Reduce speed and complete the return corridor."

"Understood."

She slowed.

Finished the course.

Then returned to the platform.

Aster was waiting.

Riko stopped beside the marker.

Her face felt hot.

She looked away.

"...I messed it up."

Aster approached the edge of the platform.

"Yes."

Riko stared.

"You're supposed to tell me it was fine!"

Aster raised an eyebrow.

"Would that help?"

The battleship opened her mouth.

Then closed it.

"...No."

"Then let's talk about what happened."

Riko sighed.

Aster pointed toward the course.

"You went into the turn too fast."

"I know."

"Then you noticed and tried to correct the entire problem at once."

"...Yes."

"And the stabilization system had to compensate."

Riko lowered her eyes.

"Yes."

Aster nodded.

"All right."

Riko looked up.

"All right?"

"Now we know what to practice."

The battleship stared at her.

Aster smiled.

"Riko, did you fall?"

"No."

"Did you hit anything?"

"No."

"Did you damage your equipment?"

"No."

"Did you identify the mistake?"

"...Yes."

"Good."

Riko frowned.

"But the stabilizers corrected it."

"That's what they're there for."

"I don't want to need them!"

"I know."

Aster's expression softened.

"But getting angry because the safety equipment worked isn't going to make you progress faster."

Riko looked toward the water.

She hated how reasonable that sounded.

Aster leaned against the platform railing.

"Do you remember when you first started?"

Riko groaned.

"Don't remind me."

"You nearly fell over standing still."

"ASTER!"

"And you kept trying to steer the entire rigging like a bicycle."

"I WAS LEARNING!"

"You were!"

Aster laughed.

Then smiled gently.

"Look how far you've come."

Riko stopped.

For a moment, she didn't answer.

Aster continued.

"You can move under your own control. You can maintain formation. You understand your equipment's basic responses. You've handled actual combat conditions."

Riko looked toward her.

"That doesn't mean I'm ready."

"No."

The answer was immediate.

And honest.

Riko appreciated it.

Aster nodded toward the stabilizers.

"But it means you're closer than you were."

The battleship looked down.

The ugly flotation supports remained beside her legs.

The heavy assistance frame was still fitted around her equipment.

She still hated it.

But perhaps...

Perhaps hating the Mk. I wasn't the same as being ready to leave it behind.

Riko sighed.

"...Can I try again?"

Aster smiled.

"That's the idea."

 

VII. The Girl Who Wants to Protect Everyone

By the time the third exercise began, the sun had climbed high enough that the training area shimmered in the heat.

Riko was sweating.

Not heavily.

But enough to feel the warmth beneath her uniform and the fitted support structures around her body.

The tropical air was humid.

The rigging generated heat of its own.

And the constant concentration required to manage the machinery was proving surprisingly exhausting.

She'd forgotten how tiring it could be simply to think about moving.

When Aster used her Fletcher-class equipment, she seemed to glide across the water as naturally as walking down a corridor.

Nadya could maneuver her old battleship machinery with almost insulting calm.

Calla handled her Atlanta-class rigging as though its movements were extensions of her thoughts.

Even Yuna had begun making her carrier's broad mechanical supports look considerably less awkward.

Riko wanted that.

Desperately.

She looked toward the observation platform.

Yuna stood beside Aster, reviewing the previous telemetry.

Hana and Dain were discussing the results with Calla.

Nadya had joined them.

All watching.

All evaluating.

Riko swallowed.

Come on.

She looked toward her equipment.

You can do this.

Then, without warning, another memory surfaced.

Not of training.

Not of the lagoon.

Of the night battle.

The sound of guns.

The terrible flashes across the water.

Radio calls overlapping one another.

Girls trying to withdraw.

Others fighting to cover them.

The Blackwake's unfamiliar movements.

The sudden knowledge that something was happening beyond their ability to control.

And afterward...

The names.

Riko had read the casualty report.

She'd read it more than once.

Fifteen Keelborn sunk.

Eleven Pendants recovered.

Four still missing.

She remembered the way people had spoken more quietly in the mess hall the following morning.

The empty places.

The damaged equipment being carried into the workshops.

The medical staff moving between patients who would require days or weeks to recover.

Aster's injuries.

June's.

Elsa's.

All the people who had returned.

All the people who hadn't.

Riko tightened her hands.

She wanted to be stronger.

Not because the Yamato class deserved to look impressive.

Not because she wanted everyone to admire her.

Not even because she hated the training frame.

She wanted to be strong enough that, the next time someone needed help, she could give it.

Without waiting for the stabilizers to compensate.

Without losing precious seconds fighting her own equipment.

Without becoming another person the others had to save.

Her throat tightened.

Please.

She looked toward the markers.

Let me get better.

The radio clicked.

Calla's voice reached her.

"Yamato, Controller. Are you ready for the next run?"

Riko drew a slow breath.

Then raised the microphone.

"Yamato ready."

"Acknowledged. This will be a controlled maneuvering exercise with simulated tactical instructions. Maintain all equipment restrictions."

"Understood."

"Begin when directed."

Riko nodded.

She looked toward the water.

Then toward the distant marker.

The training area was still the same.

The sunlight.

The gentle swell.

The floating buoys.

The safety launch.

But the purpose felt different now.

She wasn't trying to escape the Mk. I.

She was trying to become the girl who no longer needed all of it.

 

The next run began cleanly.

Riko accelerated to the assigned speed.

Maintained her course.

Adjusted her position.

Then turned toward the first marker.

This time, she deliberately entered the turn more slowly.

The rigging responded.

No warning.

No sudden correction.

She completed the maneuver.

Then the second.

Another clean turn.

Then Calla introduced the first simulated tactical instruction.

"Yamato, Controller. Simulated friendly cruiser reports propulsion damage. Adjust your course to maintain the assigned protective position."

Riko glanced toward the appropriate marker.

The exercise chart had designated one of the buoys as the position of a damaged allied cruiser.

She needed to maintain enough separation to avoid interfering with the simulated casualty while keeping her own heavy-unit position between that location and the marked threat direction.

She began adjusting.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

The stabilizers remained quiet.

Her rigging followed.

She smiled.

Then the next instruction arrived.

"Simulated threat changes bearing. Maintain protective position without crossing the casualty's withdrawal corridor."

Riko's eyes widened slightly.

She checked her relative position.

The safest direct course would take her too close to the marked withdrawal lane.

She needed a wider turn.

A slower one.

That meant temporarily accepting a less impressive position while she maneuvered.

She hesitated.

Only briefly.

Then chose the wider route.

The machinery responded.

Her wake curved.

She moved past the outer marker and began returning toward the designated position.

From the observation platform, Calla watched the telemetry.

Yuna reviewed the simulated contact plot.

Aster leaned forward.

Riko concentrated.

The final instruction came through.

"Yamato, Controller. Simulated casualty requests withdrawal. Maintain a clear route and report your readiness to provide covering fire."

Riko checked the relative positions.

Then raised the radio.

"Yamato to Controller. Withdrawal corridor clear. Heavy-unit position established. Ready for simulated covering fire on authorization."

"Acknowledged. No weapons employment. Maintain position."

"Understood."

She held.

The water moved beneath her.

The massive gun assemblies remained secured.

The stabilizers continued monitoring her balance.

But they weren't fighting her movements.

She wasn't trying to force the equipment into a position it couldn't safely reach.

She was working with it.

The seconds passed.

Then Calla spoke again.

"Exercise complete. Yamato, return to the servicing marker."

Riko blinked.

She looked toward the platform.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"Did I—"

She stopped.

Closed her eyes for a moment.

Then corrected herself.

"Understood. Returning to servicing marker."

Aster's laughter came through the radio.

"Look at that. Radio discipline."

Riko grinned.

"Don't ruin it!"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

She turned.

Slowly.

Carefully.

And sailed home.

 

VIII. The Numbers Don't Lie

Riko was practically vibrating with anticipation by the time the technicians finished securing her equipment.

Hana examined the telemetry.

Dain reviewed the propulsion records.

Calla compared the recorded track against the exercise plan.

Nadya watched the proceedings with the patient expression of someone who had learned that engineers could take an extraordinary amount of time to say something perfectly simple.

Aster sat nearby, drinking water.

Yuna stood beside her, examining a printout.

Riko looked at everyone.

Then looked at the equipment.

Then back at everyone.

"...Well?"

Nobody answered.

She waited.

Hana turned a page.

Dain made a note.

Calla leaned closer to the chart.

Riko's eyebrow twitched.

"...Well?"

Yuna glanced toward her.

"Riko."

"What?"

"Patience."

"I'm being patient!"

Aster raised an eyebrow.

"Are you?"

"YES!"

The Fletcher-class girl smiled into her water bottle.

Riko folded her arms.

Hana finally looked up.

"All right."

Riko straightened so quickly that one of the technicians glanced toward her support fittings.

"What?"

Hana held up the report.

"Your first run was good."

Riko smiled.

"Yes!"

"The second revealed an avoidable stabilization intervention."

Her smile faded.

"...Right."

"The third was substantially better."

Riko brightened again.

Hana continued.

"Your speed changes were controlled, your turns were within the intended limits, and you maintained the simulated protective position without obstructing the withdrawal corridor."

Riko stared.

"Really?"

"Yes."

Aster grinned.

"Told you."

Riko looked toward Dain.

The engineer nodded.

"The control records support that assessment."

Her heart began beating faster.

"Then..."

Dain raised one hand.

"Miss Minase."

Riko froze.

"Yes?"

"You are not being cleared for unrestricted rigging."

She deflated immediately.

"...Oh."

"Nor are we removing the entire Mk. I assistance arrangement today."

She looked down.

"...Right."

Hana stepped closer.

"But."

Riko's head snapped up.

"But?"

The repair ship smiled faintly.

"Your control performance is good enough to justify the next stage of evaluation."

Riko stared.

"...The next stage?"

Hana nodded.

"We can begin preparing a supervised intermediate-assistance assessment."

For several seconds, Riko didn't move.

Then she looked toward Aster.

The Fletcher-class girl grinned.

Riko looked toward Yuna.

The carrier smiled.

Then toward Nadya.

The older battleship nodded approvingly.

Finally, Riko looked back at Hana.

"...Really?"

"Really."

Riko inhaled sharply.

"YES!"

Her shout echoed through the workshop.

One of the technicians nearly dropped his pen.

Dain closed his eyes.

Aster burst out laughing.

Yuna smiled with an expression of deep personal satisfaction.

Hana raised a finger.

"Riko."

The battleship froze.

"...Yes?"

"This is authorization to prepare an evaluation. Not permission to remove the stabilizers yourself."

"I know!"

"And not permission to bypass your propulsion governors."

"I know!"

"And not permission to demand a full intermediate configuration before the necessary engineering work is completed."

Riko nodded so rapidly that her chrysanthemum ornament shifted slightly.

"Yes!"

Hana continued.

"Your recoil-support systems still require their approved inspection status, and any changes to the assistance equipment will need to be evaluated properly."

"Yes!"

"And Irena's medical staff will need to confirm that you're fit for the next stage."

"Yes!"

"And even if all of that goes well, the first reduced-assistance trials will remain supervised."

"Yes!"

Hana lowered her hand.

"Good."

A pause.

Then Riko asked, very carefully:

"...But I'm progressing?"

Hana smiled.

"Yes, Riko."

The battleship stared.

"You are."

For a moment, the room became strangely quiet.

Then Riko lowered her eyes.

Her expression softened.

"...Thank you."

Hana blinked.

The technicians exchanged surprised glances.

Aster raised an eyebrow.

Yuna's smile became warmer.

Riko looked at the enormous equipment surrounding her.

The stabilizers were still there.

The broad flotation assemblies remained fitted.

The propulsion governors were still restricting what she could do.

Nothing had physically changed.

Not yet.

But something important had happened.

She had demonstrated enough control for the engineers to begin considering the next stage.

She had earned the opportunity to try.

And suddenly, the machinery didn't look quite as unbearable as it had that morning.

 

IX. Aster's Terrible Advice

"Congratulations!"

Aster's voice startled Riko as she emerged from the maintenance area.

The Fletcher-class girl was waiting beside the walkway, her clipboard tucked beneath one arm.

Yuna stood nearby.

Both were smiling.

Riko tried to appear dignified.

It was difficult.

She was still extremely pleased with herself.

"Thank you."

Aster nodded gravely.

"Your Majesty."

Riko blinked.

"...What?"

"The great Yamato has conquered the terrifying enemy known as a controlled turning radius."

Riko stared.

Yuna covered her mouth.

Aster bowed.

"A historic victory."

"ASTER!"

The destroyer burst out laughing.

Riko folded her arms.

"You're impossible!"

"Frequently."

"Can't you just congratulate me normally?"

Aster straightened.

Then smiled warmly.

"All right."

Riko waited.

Aster stepped closer.

"Riko, you did really well today."

The battleship blinked.

The Fletcher-class girl's expression remained sincere.

"You were patient when you needed to be. You listened. You corrected your mistakes. And you didn't try to turn the final exercise into a competition."

Riko looked down.

"...Thanks."

Aster nodded.

"I'm proud of you."

The words struck unexpectedly hard.

Riko looked up.

For a moment, she couldn't answer.

Then her cheeks warmed.

"...Really?"

"Really."

Yuna smiled.

"And your radio discipline has improved."

Riko turned.

"Yuna!"

"What?"

"You're ruining the moment!"

The carrier adjusted her glasses.

"Only slightly."

Aster laughed.

Then leaned against the walkway railing.

"So. How does it feel?"

Riko looked toward the workshop.

Her Yamato-class rigging was being prepared for post-training inspection.

The massive turrets stood secured in their maintenance positions.

The additional Mk. I supports still surrounded the equipment.

The stabilizers looked as bulky as ever.

She smiled.

"...Good."

Aster tilted her head.

"Just good?"

Riko considered that.

Then laughed.

"Really good."

Yuna nodded.

"You earned it."

Riko looked at her friend.

For a moment, her expression became thoughtful.

"Yuna."

"Hm?"

"Do you ever get tired of your training frame?"

The carrier looked down at the broad mechanical supports surrounding her own equipment.

Then back at Riko.

"Constantly."

Riko blinked.

"Really?"

"Of course."

"But you never complain!"

Yuna smiled.

"Not as loudly as you."

Aster made a strangled noise.

Riko stared.

Then groaned.

"Why do I even talk to you two?"

Yuna laughed softly.

Then her expression became gentler.

"I want to progress too, Riko."

The battleship looked at her.

The carrier continued.

"I want to handle my aircraft properly. I want to maneuver without feeling that half the support systems are preventing me from doing something important. I want to be able to protect the fairy crews without exhausting myself simply trying to maintain the correct operating position."

Riko listened.

Yuna looked toward the lagoon.

"But we have to learn."

A pause.

"Even when it's frustrating."

Riko lowered her eyes.

Then nodded.

"...Right."

Aster smiled.

"See? Everyone's miserable."

Riko looked up.

The Fletcher-class girl continued cheerfully.

"You're miserable because the stabilizers are enormous. Yuna's miserable because her carrier equipment is complicated. Hana's miserable because we're all idiots."

Yuna nodded thoughtfully.

"An accurate summary."

"And I'm miserable because I can't go racing around the lagoon until Irena and Hana stop looking at me like I'm going to explode."

Riko laughed.

Aster grinned.

"Wonderful little family we've got."

Yuna smiled.

"Indeed."

For several seconds, they stood together.

Three former players.

Three Keelborn.

Three young women wearing machinery that had once existed only inside a game.

And all three trying, in their own ways, to become worthy of the responsibilities those machines now placed upon them.

 

X. What the Commander Saw

Kade arrived at the maintenance platform later that afternoon.

Riko spotted him immediately.

"COMMANDER!"

The young man stopped.

His windswept brown hair moved slightly in the sea breeze, and his dark-blue naval uniform looked considerably less comfortable than the casual clothes he'd worn during Beach Week.

He turned.

Then raised an eyebrow.

"...Should I be concerned?"

Riko hurried toward him.

"No!"

"That's encouraging."

"I passed!"

He blinked.

"Passed what?"

"My training!"

Aster, standing nearby, made a small sound.

Yuna smiled.

Hana turned toward them with the expression of someone who had already anticipated a problem.

Kade looked at Riko.

Then toward Hana.

Then back at Riko.

"...All of it?"

Riko stopped.

Her expression changed.

"...Well."

He folded his arms.

"Riko."

"I passed enough!"

Aster began laughing.

Kade closed his eyes.

"That's a very different statement."

Riko groaned.

"Commander!"

Hana approached.

"She completed today's maneuvering assessments with sufficient progress to recommend preparation for a supervised intermediate-assistance evaluation."

Kade nodded slowly.

"Ah."

Riko straightened.

"See?"

He looked toward her.

"That's good."

She blinked.

"...It is?"

"Of course."

Riko smiled.

Kade continued.

"Provided you understand what it means."

She nodded rapidly.

"Yes!"

"You're not being cleared for unrestricted combat equipment."

"I know!"

"And you're not removing the training systems tomorrow."

"I know!"

"And you're going to let Hana, Dain, and the medical staff decide when the next evaluation is safe."

"Yes!"

He regarded her.

For several seconds, he said nothing.

Then his expression softened.

"Good work, Riko."

The girl froze.

Aster smiled.

Yuna looked pleased.

Riko stared at Kade.

Then her face lit up.

"Really?"

He nodded.

"Really."

She grinned.

A broad, delighted smile.

The sort of smile that made it impossible to mistake how much the compliment meant.

"Thank you!"

Kade returned it.

"You're welcome."

Aster leaned toward Yuna.

"She's going to be insufferable."

Yuna nodded.

"More than usual."

Riko spun around.

"I HEARD THAT!"

Kade sighed.

"...And there goes the peace."

Aster laughed.

Riko folded her arms.

Then looked back toward the Commander.

Her smile softened.

"Can I ask something?"

Kade raised an eyebrow.

"Sure."

She hesitated.

For the first time since rushing over, she looked genuinely uncertain.

"...Do you think I'll ever be ready?"

The humor faded.

Aster stopped laughing.

Yuna looked toward her friend.

Hana remained quiet.

Kade studied Riko.

"Ready for what?"

The battleship looked down.

"To fight properly."

He didn't interrupt.

"Without all the training equipment. Without making everyone worry that I'm going to fall over or break something."

She looked toward the workshop.

"Without needing somebody to watch me every second."

Her hands tightened slightly.

"I know I'm strong. I know what my guns can do."

A pause.

"But I don't want to be the girl everyone has to protect."

Kade's expression changed.

He looked toward the lagoon.

For several seconds, he seemed to be considering his answer.

Then he spoke.

"Riko."

She straightened.

"Yes?"

"Do you think Aster doesn't need protection?"

The battleship blinked.

"...What?"

He glanced toward the Fletcher-class girl.

Aster raised an eyebrow.

Kade continued.

"Or Yuna?"

Riko looked toward the carrier.

"Or Nadya?"

The older battleship, standing near the workshop entrance, turned toward them.

Kade looked back at Riko.

"Or me?"

She stared.

"...Commander?"

He folded his arms.

"Everyone needs somebody watching their back."

Riko fell silent.

"That's not a weakness."

He nodded toward the harbor.

"That's why we have formations. Escorts. Repairs. Medical staff. Supply ships."

A small smile appeared.

"That's why we bothered sending Sakura across the Pacific with five girls protecting her."

Riko looked down.

Kade continued.

"You're a Yamato-class battleship. You've got some of the biggest guns on this island."

She nodded.

"But if you try to fight an entire enemy fleet by yourself, you're going to have a very bad day."

Aster snorted.

Yuna covered her mouth.

Riko flushed.

"I wasn't planning to!"

"Good."

He smiled.

"Because I don't have enough paperwork to authorize that level of stupidity."

She groaned.

"Kade!"

Then he became serious again.

"You're already useful, Riko."

The battleship went still.

"You've fought. You've helped protect people. You've been learning from your mistakes."

He glanced toward the workshop.

"And now you're making progress toward handling your equipment more independently."

A pause.

"That's what I want."

Riko swallowed.

"Not someone who can fire nine enormous guns while making a complete disaster of everything around her."

Aster made a very suspicious choking noise.

Kade ignored her.

"I want a battleship who can protect her friends, follow orders, think clearly, and come home."

Riko looked at him.

For several seconds, she couldn't answer.

Then she lowered her eyes.

"...Right."

Kade nodded.

"Right."

A pause.

Then his familiar expression returned.

"Although if you can also avoid declaring war on the training buoys, that would be appreciated."

Riko stared.

Aster exploded into laughter.

Yuna smiled.

Hana closed her eyes.

And Riko, Yamato-class battleship and aspiring terror of the Pacific, made a noise of profound personal suffering.

"COMMANDER!"

 

XI. A Different Kind of Strength

The maintenance workshop was quieter by evening.

Most of the day's inspections had been completed.

The technicians were finishing their final notes.

The equipment remained secured beneath the overhead lights, its heavy supports resting on the designated servicing fixtures.

Riko stood beside her Yamato-class rigging.

Alone for the moment.

She examined it.

The enormous main-gun assemblies.

The secondary batteries.

The armored structures.

The propulsion machinery.

The broad Mk. I flotation supports.

The stabilizers she had complained about so many times.

The conservative control systems that had kept her safe while she learned.

She reached out and rested one hand against the nearest support.

The metal was cool beneath her fingers.

For a while, she simply stood there.

Then she smiled faintly.

"...You know."

The equipment didn't answer.

That was probably for the best.

Riko continued.

"I still think you're ugly."

A pause.

"But..."

She looked toward the auxiliary flotation assembly.

"...Thanks."

The word felt strange.

She had spent so long resenting the training equipment that acknowledging its usefulness was almost embarrassing.

But the Mk. I had done its job.

It had helped her learn.

It had kept her from falling.

It had allowed her to experience the water, understand her machinery, and begin developing the instincts she needed.

It had not made her weak.

It had given her the opportunity to become stronger.

And now, slowly, she was beginning to earn the right to depend upon it less.

Riko looked toward the open workshop doors.

The late-afternoon sunlight painted the harbor in warm colors.

Beyond the piers, the Pacific stretched toward the horizon.

Somewhere far away, Sakura Nagase was preparing to continue her voyage toward Resolute Shoals.

At Horizon, the engineers were rebuilding damaged facilities.

The medical staff were caring for the wounded.

A cargo aircraft was being arranged to bring fresh food.

And eleven Pendants remained under protection.

Riko's expression became quiet.

She thought of the girls who had sunk.

The ones who hadn't come back.

The people who had been left behind.

Then she looked at the enormous gun assemblies surrounding her.

Nine guns.

The famous main battery of Yamato.

The power she'd been so proud of when she first selected the class.

She still loved them.

Of course she did.

She was Riko Minase.

She had not suddenly stopped being proud of her battleship.

But perhaps she was beginning to understand that the most important part of becoming Yamato wasn't learning how to fire the biggest guns in the formation.

It was learning how to use that strength properly.

When to move.

When to wait.

When to protect someone else.

When to admit she needed help.

And when to trust that the people beside her knew what they were doing.

Riko smiled.

"Okay."

She patted the training frame.

"Just a little longer."

Her expression became determined.

"Then we'll see what we can really do."

A familiar voice answered from the doorway.

"Talking to your equipment again?"

Riko turned.

Yuna stood there, carrying two bottles of water.

The carrier smiled.

Riko sighed.

"...Maybe."

Yuna approached.

Then offered her one of the bottles.

"Here."

Riko accepted it.

"Thanks."

The two stood beside the enormous battleship rigging.

For a while, neither spoke.

Then Yuna asked, "Feeling better?"

Riko looked toward the equipment.

"...Yeah."

"Good."

A pause.

Then Riko smiled.

"Hey, Yuna?"

"Hm?"

"When I finally get through the intermediate evaluations..."

The carrier raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

"...Think I'll be faster?"

Yuna considered that.

"More maneuverable, certainly, once you've learned to operate the less-assisted configuration properly."

Riko grinned.

"And maybe a little faster?"

"Within whatever limits the engineers approve."

"A lot faster?"

"Riko."

"What?"

Yuna adjusted her glasses.

"You're still a battleship."

Riko stared.

Then groaned.

"YUNAAA!"

The carrier laughed.

And Riko, despite herself, started laughing too.

Their voices carried through the maintenance workshop.

Past the enormous machinery.

Past the technicians finishing their reports.

Out through the open doors and into the warm evening air.

For a few precious moments, the equipment around them wasn't a reminder of war.

It was simply something they were learning to understand.

Something they could improve.

Something they might someday use to protect the people they loved.

Riko looked toward her Yamato-class rigging one last time.

The stabilizers were still there.

The training frame remained bulky.

Her qualification wasn't complete.

The next stage would be difficult.

There would be more inspections.

More exercises.

More mistakes.

Probably more teasing from Aster.

Definitely more teasing from Yuna.

But she had made progress.

Real progress.

And tomorrow, she would return.

Not because she wanted to prove she was the strongest girl on the island.

Not because she needed everyone to admire her enormous guns.

But because the next time Horizon Atoll needed her, she wanted to be ready.

She wanted to stand beside her friends.

Protect their retreat.

Hold the line when necessary.

And return to harbor afterward, tired and hungry and complaining about something completely unimportant.

She wanted them all to have another ordinary morning.

Riko tightened her grip on the water bottle.

Then smiled.

"Come on, Yuna."

The carrier looked toward her.

"Where?"

"Dinner."

"Already?"

"I'm starving."

Yuna sighed.

"Of course you are."

Riko grinned.

"Training makes me hungry!"

"Apparently, everything makes you hungry."

"That's not true!"

The carrier raised an eyebrow.

Riko hesitated.

"...Most things."

Yuna laughed.

The two girls walked toward the workshop entrance.

Behind them, the immense Yamato-class rigging rested silently beneath the lights.

Nine guns.

An enormous battleship.

And a little more progress than yesterday.

Outside, the evening sunlight spread across the Pacific.

Horizon Atoll continued its work.

And Riko Minase, who had once wanted nothing more than to look like the most powerful battleship in the world, was finally beginning to understand how much effort it would take to become one.