Not So Common

Chapter 3

"Don't you have something better to do?"

"The news is happening right here, isn't it?"

"News is an awfully strong word for paperwork. None of it's ever new."

Aoba chuckled.

"What?"

"I'm just trying to imagine Akagi sitting at a table, filling acquisition forms..."

"Say, what does she look like?"

Aoba's eyebrow quirked. "You've never seen her?"

"Where would I?"

"Fair enough." She sat down and started sketching away on a (thankfully blank) piece of paper. Miller watched.

"Keep on doing whatever you were doing," Aoba said. "Art takes time, you know."

------

Eventually, Aoba slid the paper his way. Looking up, he saw a sketch of a woman. If Aoba's depiction did her justice, then she must have been gorgeous, although there was a certain look in those eyes that made his skin crawl.

"Huh. How many tails is that?"

"Nine." He supposed that shipgirls could have supernatural traits as well. "Say, do you have any pictures of Enterprise?"

"Why?"

"I want to see the Grey Ghost, that's why. Come on, it's only fair. You get a peek at Akagi, I get to see Enterprise."

He stood up. "I think I've got the photo somewhere."

"Ohoho, should Nevada be worried?"

"No." Scrounging around, he found what he was looking for. "Here! The glamor shots!"

Most of them were pre-Pearl, although he knew for a fact that some of the shipgirls played a role in recruiting afterward. Of their own volition, of course. He had heard horror stories about Pennsylvania's handler: Penn was spitting nails after Pearl, and she nearly sent him back to the mainland ballistically after he arranged a photo op without asking her.

Of all the girls who did the propaganda, Enterprise, in particular, was huge. The white hair, the imposing figure, the deck, the honest-to-goodness bald eagle? Incredible. Not many pictures of her with the infamous bow, though. (Something about it not fitting into American ideas of technological and industrial might, he thought.) Being a war hero shot the popularity of her photos through the roof as well.

Aoba sat down on his desk, looked at a picture of Enterprise, long white hair whipping in the prop wash, and whistled. "Wow. Was she why you signed up?"

"Nah. Well, not her alone. Shipgirls always interested me, and somehow... I ended up here." He had tested well on whatever metrics the Navy used for shipgirl commanders, well enough to get a command in the first place, but he wasn't the best.

"Are you interested in any of the girls here?" Aoba smirked. "... In me?"

"On a philosophical level? Absolutely."

"That's not what I meant."

"Well, I don't appreciate gossip-mongering. Now get your butt off my paperwork."

"It's not like I could make it any worse..."

------

It was his turn to cook dinner, although Kinugasa had volunteered to help him with it. No Aoba in sight, unfortunately, which made communication tricky.

From outside the kitchen, he could hear music over their radio, and a famous voice. It was the sort of schmaltzy stuff Lexington always sang, all heartfelt longing... it made him more nostalgic than he would admit.