The world appeared to crumble. The sky, typically a serene blue, had transformed into a terrifying canvas of inky black. Dense clouds loomed low, exhaling a frigid mist that chilled me to the marrow. Flashes of emerald light pulsed rhythmically behind the overcast, casting grotesque shadows across the obsidian sands of the beach.
I was there, stranded on an alien shore. I had never set foot here before; even in my original world, the labyrinthine geography of the Pacific islands remained a mystery to me.
Ragged breaths escaped my throat, which felt parched and metallic with the taste of blood. I attempted to stand, but a searing agony surged through my consciousness. My right arm was shattered—twisted at an unnatural angle, leaving a throbbing heat that blurred my vision.
My pride, my rigging—the advanced combat suite capable of obliterating entire fleets in heartbeats—was now nothing more than mangled wreckage. I could not recall when it had collapsed and fallen away. I looked down at my two cherished blades, ALKA and HPLS. Both lay shattered into fragments, embedded in the sand, drained of all energy. They were mere remnants of ordinary steel, devoid of their ethereal glow.
I had nothing left. Save for one thing.
The massive bow upon my back remained intact, though the string felt impossibly heavy to draw in my fractured state. Yet, the agony could not extinguish my will to survive. With my fading strength, I knelt. Since my right arm was useless, I resorted to a desperate measure: I bit the bowstring firmly with my teeth. The tension was agonizing, the string rigid and unforgiving.
I manifested a single arrow using the last vestiges of my depleted internal energy. Biting the nock, I drew the string back by tilting my head upward, struggling to aim into the encroaching darkness. Blood began to trickle from the corner of my mouth as the sharp string bit into my skin, but I remained indifferent to the pain.
"Ugh, y-you guys...!!!" I hissed through grit teeth.
I glanced to my side, and my heart shattered. There, upon the cold sand, my four destroyers lay helpless: Javelin, Nimi, Laffey, and Ayanami. They were crimson-stained and broken. Their rigging was pulverized, their garments torn to shreds, lying unconscious with grievous wounds. They, who were once so vibrant and cheerful, now lay as silent as discarded dolls.
Suddenly, a piercing whistle rent the air.
BOOM!
A missile impacted the earth beside me. The concussive force was so immense it hurled my body several meters. I slammed hard into the sand, the bow slipping from my grip. I groaned in agony, clutching my broken arm as the black sand infiltrated my wounds, stinging with intensity.
From the shroud of thick fog, an aircraft emerged—an AV-8R Harrier Night Attack. The jet flew low, transitioning into VTOL (Vertical Take-Off and Landing) mode directly before me. Its engines roared, whipping up a suffocating sandstorm. Atop the aircraft's fuselage stood a ship-girl, her arms crossed. Her face was obscured by an enigmatic dark silhouette, staring down at me as if I were mere vermin to be crushed. I felt a profound sense of humiliation.
Far out upon the sea's surface, emerging from the mist that veiled the ocean, the titan appeared.
The aircraft carrier USS Nemesis (CV-02).
My heart skipped a beat. I recognized that silhouette instantly. It was the ship that haunted the nightmares of every player in the game I once called home. A "God Tier" carrier, attainable only by the elite global tournament players who reached the Legend rank. She was a vessel of absolute supremacy: submerging capabilities, lethal airstrikes, and an impenetrable defense. Classified as a pure aircraft carrier rather than an attack carrier, she possessed unparalleled self-defense.
Nemesis—a ship that had no business existing in this world.
I glared at the vessel with a face etched in fury, though tears of despair began to fall. I struggled to stand on trembling legs, resigned to my fate. I knew what was coming. The muzzle of the Harrier's cannon began to glow, slaving its fire control to my coordinates.
"NEMESIS...!!!!" I bellowed with my final breath, defiantly raising a middle finger at the figure atop the British jet. A volley of rounds tore through the air. White light erupted before my eyes, shattering my reality into nothingness.
Awakening in a Cold Sweat
"NEMESIS!!!!" I gasped, my body jerking upright on the soft mattress. I drew in air greedily, my lungs tightening as if I were surfacing from the depths of the abyss. Cold sweat drenched my forehead and neck, soaking through my pillow.
"Izumo-nee?! What's wrong, desu?!" Ayanami cried out, startled.
Her small, soft hand immediately wrapped around my waist. I turned sharply, my heart still hammering like an overstressed engine. Beside me, Ayanami sat in a state of total shock and concern. She had been sleeping soundly while hugging me, only to be jolted awake by my hysterical scream. It was only three in the morning. I recalled returning from the sake parlor intoxicated, with Kaga and Hyuga escorting me back to the guest house, ensuring they brought takeout for my destroyers.
I remained frozen, struggling to stabilize my breathing. I surveyed my surroundings: A guest room in Yokohama. No black sand. No emerald fog. No shattered arm.
I glanced down; my kimono was disheveled, slipping from my shoulder. The white silk, adorned with an argent cherry blossom motif, felt damp with perspiration. I quickly adjusted my attire, trying to cover myself even as my hands continued to tremble.
"A-Ayanami... it was just a dream... hah... hah..." I whispered hoarsely.
"A nightmare, desu? Izumo-nee screamed so loudly," Ayanami said, her own voice wavering with fear at my distress. She embraced me again, tighter this time, resting her head against my shoulder.
My outcry had disturbed the others as well. Across the room, Javelin, Nimi, and Laffey had stirred. Javelin lunged for the light switch, flooding the dim room with brightness.
"Izumo-nee?! Is it an attack?!" Javelin demanded, her hand reflexively searching for her spear beside the bed.
"No... calm down, Javelin. It was only a nightmare," I said, wiping the sweat from my brow. I pressed a hand to my forehead and took a deep, grounding breath.
Nimi approached, sitting on the edge of the bed to place a steadying hand on my forehead. "Your temperature is normal, but your pulse is racing. What could you have possibly dreamed of to evoke such a scream?"
Laffey, usually the most difficult to rouse, crawled closer. Her eyes were heavy with sleep, but they radiated genuine worry. "Izumo... scared?"
I fell silent. The vision of USS Nemesis and their broken, bloodied bodies felt hauntingly vivid. The phantom pain in my arm from the dream left a lingering ache.
"I saw you all... severely wounded. And there was a titan of a ship from my world... a vessel named USS Nemesis. She destroyed everything," I whispered. I feared the dream was a premonition. Given my arrival in this world, the boundary between dream and reality felt perilously thin.
Sensing my lingering distress, the destroyers asked no more questions. They all climbed onto the oversized bed, surrounding me in a warm, collective embrace in the stillness of the night.
"We are here, Izumo-nee. We are strong, desu. Do not be afraid," Ayanami murmured into my ear.
"Exactly! We won't let anyone lay a finger on you!" Javelin declared firmly.
"Try to sleep. We will keep watch," Nimi added, gently rubbing my back.
I closed my eyes, absorbing their warmth. The terror that had gripped me began to recede, replaced by a profound sense of serenity. Their presence was the only medicine I needed.
"Thank you... thank you for being here," I said with total sincerity. I managed a small smile, feeling incredibly fortunate to have them by my side.
The Sun That Brings New Duties
Time slipped away unnoticed. Following the nightmare, I managed to drift back into a restorative sleep. The morning sun began its slow ascent, peeking through the gaps in the window and painting the wooden floor of the guest house in gold. The distant cries of gulls and the rhythmic bustle of the dockworkers signaled the start of the day.
I opened my eyes, feeling revitalized despite the shadows of the dream lingering in my mind. Around me, the destroyers were still fast asleep in a comical tangle of limbs after our group embrace.
"Everyone, wake up... it's morning," I said, gently shaking Javelin's shoulder.
One by one, they stirred. Nimi was the first to sit upright, immediately smoothing her messy hair.
"Ah, it's already seven o'clock. We must prepare at once," Nimi said, efficiently organizing everyone's attire.
We began our morning routine. I bathed first, washing away the remnants of the night's cold sweat. The warm water felt as though it were dissolving my mental burdens. Afterward, I changed into my full expedition gear: a long white techwear jacket, a black tactical shirt, and the boots Nimi had polished the night before.
Ayanami, Javelin, Laffey, and Nimi were equally busy. They seemed remarkably spirited, as if the tension of Iwo Jima were a distant memory.
"Remember, today is a critical day," I said, pinning my name badge to my chest. "Admiral Deguchi is expecting us. This meeting may dictate the extent of our involvement in this world's conflict."
"We are ready, Izumo-nee!" Javelin gave a sharp salute, even while clutching a hairbrush.
I gazed out the window toward the harbor where my vessels were moored. I clenched my right hand—the one that had been broken in the dream. I had to be resolute. Not just for myself, but for those who had placed their faith in me.
No matter what trauma pursued me, I would face it with an iron will. In this world, I was no longer just a ship; I was a protector to my younger sisters.
"Let's go," I said, my tone unwavering.
The five of us stepped out of the guest room, heading toward the command headquarters to confront a future that remained shrouded in mystery.
Steps Toward the Round Table
POV: Narrator
The morning sun in Yokohama shimmered upon the water with a calm, gilded hue. The atmosphere of the military harbor began to pulse with life, though remnants of the previous night's labor were visible in every corner. In front of the Naval Guest House, the figure of Hikawa Maru waited patiently.
This morning, Maru appeared exceptionally graceful. She wore a pristine Imperial Japanese Navy uniform with a navy skirt. Over her uniform, she donned a clean white medical apron emblazoned with the Red Cross—the indelible mark of a hospital ship. Her hair danced in the sea breeze, projecting an aura of peace.
Shortly after, the doors opened. Izumo emerged, leading her small contingent. Behind her, Ayanami, Javelin, Laffey, and Nimi walked with a newfound calmness, though their expressions betrayed a constant, underlying alertness.
Maru offered a warm smile and a polite bow.
"Good morning, Izumo-san, and to your destroyer companions. I hope you slept well; I trust our facilities were adequate," Maru said with a courteous bow.
Izumo returned the smile, though a trace of fatigue remained in her eyes. "Excellently, Maru. Thank you. We are prepared for today's agenda."
"Splendid. Come, I shall escort you to the Admiral's office. The briefing is about to commence," Maru invited gently.
Morning Ritual in Yokohama
As they walked toward the command center, Izumo's group observed the morning activities of the harbor. The scene was a stark contrast to the high-tech, automated grandeur of the Azur Lane headquarters. Here, everything felt visceral and human.
In various corners of the docks, Izumo saw exhausted sailors snatched sleep wherever they could—atop coils of mooring rope, beside munition crates, or leaning against concrete pylons. Other crew members were busy swabbing decks and clearing industrial dust, while technical teams meticulously inspected the tension of the steel hawsers securing the ships to the piers.
Izumo fell silent, a faint smile on her lips. She watched a young sailor yawn as he carried two cups of steaming coffee toward a tugboat where his colleague was warming the engine.
"This world is truly kept alive by them," Izumo thought. She felt a surge of warmth seeing the dedication these ordinary humans showed in maintaining ship-entities like herself. Javelin and Nimi watched closely, noting how different this manual maintenance was compared to the rapid-repair systems they were accustomed to.
"This port is so busy, desu," Ayanami murmured, her crimson eyes watching a dive team prepare to inspect a hull.
"Indeed, Ayanami-san. For us, prevention is paramount. We cannot allow the smallest defect to become a catastrophe at sea," Maru replied.
Command Headquarters Meeting Room
After navigating the heavily guarded corridors of the command building, they arrived at a set of heavy mahogany doors engraved with the naval emblem. As the doors opened, they were greeted by the stiff, formal atmosphere of military SOP.
Several figures were already in attendance. Kaga stood at attention, her expression restored to its cold, professional mask. Beside her, Hyuga appeared more relaxed, though she occasionally tugged at her restrictive collar.
At the far end of the table sat JS Mogami. She was looking down, her focus entirely on a digital tablet. Mogami was the embodiment of intelligence and logistical precision—the strategic mind of the Japanese fleet. Her raven hair gleamed under the lights, radiating a quiet authority.
"Welcome," said Admiral Deguchi, rising from his seat. He offered a crisp military salute, which Izumo returned with equal precision.
Beside the Admiral stood two senior staff members.
"Izumo-san, allow me to introduce Rear Admiral Kenjiro Takagi, representing the Tokyo headquarters," Deguchi said, gesturing to a man with spectacles and a severe expression.
"And this is Commander Hiroshi Yamamoto from the Kyushu command, our southernmost region. He possesses the most intimate understanding of the southern front," Deguchi introduced a man with sun-darkened skin, a testament to his time at sea.
Izumo nodded respectfully. She could feel Takagi's clinical gaze, as if he were trying to reconcile her identity with the Izumo they had lost. Yamamoto, conversely, seemed friendlier, though his face was etched with worry for his command.
"Please, be seated," Deguchi requested.
Izumo took a central position, flanked by Nimi and Ayanami, while Javelin and Laffey sat to the left. Across from them sat Kaga, Hyuga, and Mogami. Maru moved efficiently, distributing digital tablets to Izumo's team before moving to the control panel on the wall.
"I have synchronized the initial intelligence archives to your devices for real-time review," Maru stated professionally.
With a click, a projector illuminated the far wall, displaying a massive navigational chart of the waters stretching south of Japan. The room fell silent, save for the hum of the ventilation. Izumo noted the clusters of red dots concentrated far below the maritime border.
"This meeting is officially in session," Deguchi broke the silence. "Time is a luxury we do not have. The situation in the South has reached a critical juncture, and your presence may be the variable we need most."
Izumo clenched her hand beneath the table. She caught Nimi's eye, who was already poised with a pen, then glanced at Kaga, who was staring intently at the screen. She knew that from this moment on, their "peaceful" journey was over.
The nightmare of Nemesis flickered briefly in her mind, but she dismissed it. She had to focus. The future of the relationship between their worlds was being forged at this table.
"Maru, please present the latest intelligence from Mogami-san," Deguchi ordered.
Mogami raised her tablet, syncing it with the display as technical data on the opposing fleet began to populate the screen.
Vow of the Silver Fox
POV: Narrator
The temperature in the room seemed to drop. The projector displayed a radar graphic that appeared chaotic. Mogami stood, her boots clicking softly on the floor as she approached the screen. She magnified a blurred optical capture that was still clear enough for identification.
"Last night, I utilized one of Kaga-san's F-35B units for an interception patrol," Mogami began, her voice flat and analytical.
"Passive sensors on my destroyer detected an electronic anomaly at the edge of our Exclusive Economic Zone. It required visual confirmation because ground-based radar struggled to maintain a lock."
Mogami tapped the screen, revealing the silhouette of a fighter jet with a distinctive delta-wing and canard design. Its faceted angles were clearly intended to minimize radar cross-section.
"Fifth-generation stealth aircraft. Three units in total. They infiltrated under the cover of darkness, operating in silent mode without radio emissions," Mogami continued. "This is not an isolated incident; it has occurred multiple times this week. They are mapping our coastal military infrastructure in detail."
Sitting in the center, Izumo felt her pulse quicken as she stared at the silhouette. She knew that shape intimately.
"That aircraft... it's a J-20," Izumo whispered, her voice carrying clearly through the silent room. All eyes turned toward her, curious as to how she recognized it so instantly.
Izumo's mind raced back to her past world. If "J-coded" aircraft were involved, the culprit was undeniably China. In her world, they had been aggressively expanding their naval might to dominate the oceans.
History is repeating itself, Izumo thought. She began to formulate a tactical analysis based on her knowledge as a "Legend" player.
"If it is indeed them," Izumo began, drawing the room's full attention. "While their fleet is formidable in terms of sheer numbers and technology, they often struggle with coordination speed between task units. Their vessels frequently operate in silos rather than as a perfectly integrated data network."
Izumo slid her tablet forward, projecting her hypothesis. "Their destroyers will act as the vanguard—the shield and the spear. As for the three pure aircraft carriers mentioned yesterday... they will likely hesitate to stray far from their home ports or land-based missile umbrellas. They rely on long-range saturation strikes to break enemy morale before a surface engagement begins. One is a legacy carrier, the foundation of their fleet, while the other two are modern, carrying full complement air wings."
Izumo was drawing on her own experience, presenting it as an intuitive analysis of the data. She felt certain this nation mirrored the one from her memories.
The Bloody Border Line
Admiral Deguchi nodded grimly. "An astute analysis, Izumo-san. That is precisely our concern. We have received high-level intelligence indicating a planned provocation in the near future. The pretext is a classic one: a unilaterally claimed maritime border that overlaps our territory."
Hiroshi Yamamoto, the Southern commander, stood up to display a map of the Kyushu region and its surrounding islands.
"In the South, the situation is even more dire," Yamamoto said bitterly. "Their destroyer task forces are constantly circling our boundaries. It forces our LPDs, like JS Osumi and JS Shimokita, to work tirelessly on logistics. Even venerable destroyers that should be retired, like the Hatakaze class, are being pressed into frontline service."
Yamamoto sighed, looking at Izumo with uncertainty. "I will be blunt... I am not confident our aging cannons can withstand a VLS (Vertical Launch System) saturation strike from modern Chinese destroyers. The Type 052D and 052B classes carry dozens of missiles. A single volley could devastate our southernmost cities in minutes."
Hearing this, Izumo pressed her hands to her temples, fighting off a headache. The conflict had escalated to a horrifying degree—warships were already "painted" by fire-control radar. This wasn't a patrol; it was the precipice of total war.
The Admiral's Request
Suddenly, the room became deathly quiet. Admiral Deguchi's chair creaked as he stood. He walked toward Izumo and, to her utter shock, performed a deep ojigi—a bow of profound respect and supplication.
"Izumo-san... I realize this is a selfish request. You are a traveler from another world with no obligation to this nation," Deguchi's voice was steady but thick with emotion. "But we truly beg for your assistance. We believe that with your unique technology and strength, you can de-escalate this crisis without the need for further sacrifice from our ship-girls."
Deguchi looked up, his eyes searching hers. "Though combat may be inevitable, I beg of you... prevent casualties. Do not let this end in total destruction. Help us calm this storm."
Izumo was stunned. To see an Admiral of his stature pleading in such a manner stirred something within her. She recalled the nightmare—the vision of Nemesis and her fallen friends. She remembered the tragedy that haunted her: The Sinking of Juneau. The memory of watching a comrade vanish beneath the waves while she stood powerless.
Izumo stood tall, her silver fox ears twitching as she radiated an authoritative aura.
"I will help," she said firmly. A collective sigh of relief swept through the room. "But I have one non-negotiable condition. I will ensure there are no casualties. I do not wish to see a single ship-girl—friend or foe—sink in this conflict. I will neutralize their weaponry and their aircraft, but I will not allow the ocean to become a graveyard for souls again."
The memory of Juneau was the catalyst for her resolve. She would not let history repeat itself under her watch.
Beside the Admiral, Kaga stood and bowed deeply toward Izumo. "Thank you... thank you truly, Izumo-san," she said, her voice stripped of its cold mask.
The gesture was mirrored by Hyuga, Mogami, Maru, and the representatives from Tokyo and Kyushu. They all bowed in respect to Izumo and her destroyers.
Izumo suddenly became flustered, her ears and tail twitching nervously.
"A-ah, there is no need for such formality! I... I am only doing what any guardian of the sea should do!" she stammered.
Seeing her panic, Admiral Deguchi straightened and offered a sincere smile. He clapped his can-do hands to break the tension.
"Very well. Since we are in agreement, let us use the remaining time to formulate our strategy," Deguchi said, returning to his desk. "Mogami-san, display the tactical map of the Southern sector. We shall plan this 'gunboat diplomacy' with precision."
Izumo sat back down, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She glanced at her destroyers; they all nodded in unison, ready to follow her lead. A great battle lay ahead, but Izumo would not let trauma dictate the outcome. She would be the shield.
Diplomacy Above Yokohama Skies
POV: Narrator
Hours had passed since the briefing. The sun began its descent, bathing the warships in a calm, amber glow. Amidst the tireless bustle of the harbor, JS Izumo stood upon her flight deck.
She was not idle. She was synchronizing with her air wing. Engines roared to life across the expanse of her deck. Three MiG-27K Flogger units, with their distinctive variable-sweep wings, were cycling their hydraulics. Nearby, two Qaher-313 stealth drones glowed faintly as they tested their radar-absorbent coatings.
Four Fenice attack helicopters spun their rotors. Izumo closed her eyes, connecting her neural interface to every sensor. she tested the control surfaces of the jets and the rotation of the helicopters' Gatling cannons through thought alone. The sound of precision machinery provided a sense of calm readiness.
She was honing her reflexes. She knew that if the situation in the South erupted, she would have to deploy her full rigging—a process that would drain her significantly.
In a corner of the deck, her four destroyers sat in a circle, their conversation turning toward the gravity of their mission.
"So, Izumo-nee truly intends for us to avoid sinking them, desu?" Ayanami asked, clutching her massive, temporarily repaired sword.
"It is a difficult principle to maintain in a rain of VLS missiles, but I agree," Nimi said, taking notes on her tablet. "Neutralizing the weapon without killing the soul is the pinnacle of strategy. We will support her absolutely."
"Laffey... will try not to hit the reactor," Laffey murmured over her soda, her eyes half-closed but her ears alert.
Javelin clenched her fist enthusiastically. "Whatever happens, we are a team! If Izumo-nee wants peace, we will bring peace through strength!"
Izumo overheard them and smiled thinly, but the moment was short-lived.
WUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNG! WUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNG!
The air-raid sirens shrieked across Yokohama. The alarm was urgent; harbor radar had detected high-speed anomalies inbound.
"Warning! Air raid detected! Five hostile contacts approaching from the South! Altitude 10,000 meters! They are carrying ordnance!" the operator's voice crackled over the loudspeakers.
At the adjacent docks, Kaga and Hyuga sprinted toward their ships. Mogami vaulted over a railing onto her deck with acrobatic grace.
Izumo manifested her partial rigging. A tactical overlay appeared over her right eye, projecting long-range radar data. She zoomed in, piercing the cloud layer at 10,000 meters.
"Terrible timing... those are J-10s, multirole fighters," Izumo said grimly.
Five single-engine jets with delta wings and canards dived in a strike formation. Her sensors confirmed they were armed with medium-range air-to-air missiles and heavy bombs.
"Javelin! Nimi! Laffey! Ayanami! Stay on the ship! Activate your CIWS Gatling cannons, but do not fire unless I order it! Protect this vessel!" Izumo commanded.
She looked toward Kaga and Hyuga, who were readying their decks.
"Kaga! Hyuga! Do not launch your F-35Bs! Those aircraft carry specialized anti-air suites that can lock onto your stealth signatures! I will handle this!" Izumo shouted.
The two carriers froze. They had never heard Izumo use such a commanding tone. Kaga, about to launch her F-35Bs, hesitated. She could only watch as the flight deck of the silver fox became a storm of activity.
"Air units, launch! Now!" Izumo commanded, her vision splitting between her various aircraft and helicopters.
The four Fenice helicopters ascended vertically with impossible speed, followed by the three MiG-27K jets, which engaged full afterburners, creating sonic booms that rattled the city.
Dogfight Above Yokohama
The enemy ship-girl controlling the J-10s was taken aback. She expected to face a limited number of F-35Bs. Instead, her sensors were filled with anomalies.
"What is that?! Helicopters at this altitude?! They aren't Ospreys!!" she thought frantically.
The Fenice helicopters didn't just fly; they maneuvered like raptors. Izumo controlled them with surgical precision. Once the lock was established, the helicopters engaged.
"Take this! Spike missiles, launch!" Izumo shouted. Her destroyers and the other carriers watched in awe.
Two J-10s in the lead attempted to deploy flares, but the Spike missiles used imaging infrared seekers that ignored the decoys.
BOOM! BOOM!
Two massive explosions lit up the sky as the jets disintegrated into falling debris.
The remaining three J-10s attempted to break away and accelerate, but they were already being hunted. The three MiG-27Ks were positioned in their blind spots. Izumo swept the MiGs' wings back, pushing them past the sound barrier.
"You aren't going anywhere without a message from me," she murmured.
A fierce dogfight erupted among the clouds. One J-10 attempted a high-G turn, but Izumo's MiG shredded its wing with a 30mm burst.
RATATATATA!
The jet exploded. The final two aircraft dived in a desperate attempt to flee southward. Izumo suddenly pulled back her units, ordering them to cease the pursuit.
"Izumo-nee? Why stop? We can finish them," Javelin asked.
"No need. Let them return," Izumo replied, wiping sweat from her brow. "They need witnesses to tell them that Yokohama is no longer vulnerable. This is psychological warfare."
Mogami stood frozen on her deck. Izumo's strategy was efficient, lethal, and calculated. She realized Izumo was more than just a carrier; she was a veteran who knew exactly when to strike and when to let the enemy live in fear.
Southern Side (Chinese Naval Base)
Far to the south, at a massive, modern naval facility, the atmosphere was electric with tension. Radar operators reported the loss of three J-10 signals.
The two surviving jets finally appeared on the horizon, landing with engines near overheating on the deck of a magnificent carrier. As the engines died, the ship-girl in the command tower drew a shaky breath.
The girl had dark green hair tied in a ponytail and wore a military uniform with a flowing black cape. Her hull number was engraved on her chest—her pride.
She was CN Fujian, China's most modern aircraft carrier.
BRAK!
Fujian struck the deck in a fit of rage. "Damn it! What was that?! Japan has something horrifying! Those weren't F-35Bs, and they certainly weren't AmericaHel
A mocking chuckle came from behind her. Another ship-girl leaned against a railing, her uniform more elegant and her gaze more cynical.
She was CN Sichuan, an equally deadly carrier.
"My, my... look who came home empty-handed," Sichuan teased, twirling a lock of hair. "Five sent, only two returned. And you blame 'something horrifying'? Perhaps you were simply unfocused, Fujian."
Fujian turned with a murderous glare. "You weren't there! You didn't see helicopters flying among the clouds or jets that maneuvered like demons!"
Sichuan laughed harder. "I just hope you survive the fury of Central Command. The mapping mission was a total failure, and you gave them a moral victory. Truly pathetic."
Sichuan walked away, leaving Fujian trembling with fury and lingering fear.
"Just wait... whoever you are in Yokohama... I will ensure you sink by my own hands. I swear it on the name of the PLA," Fujian whispered.
Meanwhile, at Henderson Island, the shadow of USS Nemesis moved silently beneath the surface, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal herself. Her stealthy movement was momentarily detected by a MiG-27K's radar, but Izumo did not yet notice.
To be continued.
Chapter 15: Infiltrating into Hell