The armored whale had sunk to a depth of 500m. Hearing this, Tokushima breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that the ultra-silent order would soon be lifted. As it turned out, he’ll have to wait a little more for that. Better safe than sorry, Captain Kurokawa had the TASS deployed to expand their coverage area. After careful and rigorous checks for any remaining threats in the vicinity, he finally lifted the ultra-silent order.
Tokushima descended from the bunks and stretched his arms and legs out. It had been a grueling nine hours since the ultra-silent order was put in place.
“‘You okay, chief?”
PO2 Takada worryingly called out to CPO Natsuzawa, who had just returned from the medical bay and was holding an ice pack to his head. Tokushima hovered around him as he examined the cartoonishly large bump on his forehead.
“What happened here, chief?”
“Some boxes fell over and hit me when the sub suddenly dove so the medical officer told me to get some rest. Hey, Tokushima, can you take over my shift if it’s all good?”
“Wait really? Me? I’m not even part of the regular crew, so I shouldn’t impose.”
“Nah, it’s alright. I heard good things about you and saw you work with my own eyes. I can trust you’ll do well taking over for me.”
The crew works on the submarine in shifts. Even the culinary technicians in charge of the galley prepare the submarine’s four meals per day in three six-hour shifts. Naturally, some will help arrange and distribute the food during the busy periods but it mainly falls to the culinary technicians on duty to cook the meals themselves. PO2 Takada and PO2 Kōda had their own shifts and with Natsuzawa out of commission for the time being, Tokushima could receive his responsibilities and obligations. Having received and served various dignitaries from all over, he could be trusted to keep the order and rhythm of things in the submarine.
“Alright, sure. But you know that—”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.”
It’s a known rumor that once Tokushima cooks something up, the culinary technician taking over his shift will fail to recreate what he did. Even when given the same ingredients, spices, and equipment, they couldn’t quite replicate whatever he made, making it appear as if something had gone wrong in the kitchen. It’s said that this caused a lot of resignation letters from fellow culinary technicians to turn up. Maybe it’s just the difference having a three-star Citroen chef for a dad makes?
What makes it worse is that Tokushima knows this and yet he doesn’t even hold back at all. It’s almost as if he’s locked into presenting his best at all times and ensnaring the person eating his food at his whims. Or maybe this is all just part of that Edajima guy’s cheeky designs.
Natsuzawa, resigning himself to what he’s about to do, forced the following words out.
“Do… whatever you wanna do. I bet our friends will want to know what three Citroen star-level grub tastes like.”
“Great. I’ll take you up on your word!”
Tokushima gleefully took Natsuzawa’s apron in hand.
The corridors were jampacked with crewmen heading for the showers and toilets. Seems like everyone had been given the clearance to finally move. Weaving a path through the throng of bodies, Tokushima made for the galley with movements as light as a feather.
Once more, the crew of a JMSDF submarine is split into three duty groups and operates in four six-hour shifts per day (personnel handling navigation-related duties operate in four-hour shifts per day). When it comes to the Kitashio’s officer of the deck, the first shift is handled by Lt Atsugi, the second shift by Lt Cdr Komatsujima, and lastly the third shift by Lt Cdr Maizuru. For example, if Lt Atsugi takes up the duty at midnight, Lt Cdr Komatsujima will replace him at exactly six in the morning. While Lt Cdr Komatsujima and the next shift, Lt Cdr Maizuru, are on duty, Lt Atsugi will rest, sleep, or fulfill his duties as the chief weapons officer. Now that it’s approaching 1800H, he will once more take up his shift as officer of the deck.
Of course, in a combat situation when the order for action stations is given, every crew member will report to their station whether or not it’s currently their shift. But in any other case, this is more or less how the crew live their lives under the waves. Sure, their work tends to add up to ten hours per day—a typical work day at a typical black company—but this is simply how life working on a ship is. In exchange, in terms of salary, they do get their money’s worth working for the MSDF; a submariner earns about 45% more than a GSDF officer worker of the same rank.
Because submarine life is so taxing, meals are served four times a day at 0600H in the morning, 1200H at noon, 1800H in the evening, and at 0000H at midnight. However, each duty group has different off-hours, the 0600H meal that’s usually considered breakfast is lunch or dinner for some. Some consider it the meal they eat just before retiring ‘for the night.’ Eating three hours before sleep takes a toll on the stomach and excessive calorie intake on a submarine, a place that isn’t conducive to labor-intensive work, is a recipe for obesity. However, in recent years, hardly anyone eats at all four prescribed mealtimes. It’s probably because the younger crew members are a bit more conscious of their figure and the older crew members are more engaged in keeping an active lifestyle.
Well, that’s just the norm; just this once, everyone attended the 1800H mealtime.
Whether the canned food meals during the ultra-silent order took its toll or the dinner being served was ramen or some other reason, the sight of crew members seated at their tables and mowing down the noodles, coupled with the delicious, aromatic smell of ramen broth spreading across the enclosed space of the submarine spurred even the resting crew members to show up for mealtime.
Watching the droves of hungry crew members rushing into the galley through the pantry window, Tokushima couldn’t help but giggle devilishly.
“Hehehehehe! Told ‘ya those potatoes were heavenly!”
Those chowing down on the ramen made by Tokushima weren’t just the regular crew members. The officers’ mess looked as if it had turned into a ramen stall with its long line of officers waiting to get their ramen.
“Is it just me or is today’s ramen this seriously good?”
Lt Atsugi remarked, to which Lt Cdr Maizuru nodded in agreement.
“Yeah, this one hits differently from the other days. The way the finely cut potatoes are fried and used as toppings is just so novel, too. That’s not to say the ramen from before isn’t also great, but with how amazing the broth is, this one is on a whole new level… Hmmm! They must’ve used some sorta secret ingredient!”
The meals on a submarine are fundamentally delicious. The reason is commonly believed to be the high budget allotted to food. Another is that since food is the only real source of happiness onboard a submarine, it’s expected that meals must be great to satisfy the crew. Crammed into a very cramped space, the crew could expect to be with one another breathing the same air for 24 hours a day for several months—even several years if there aren’t any transfers. By imagining the faces of the fellow crew members who will eat the dish one makes, they won’t spare any expense in trying to make the dish more delicious. And since the accumulation of years’ worth of experience will eventually be passed down in the form of secret ingredients, one’s adeptness at cooking will improve whether one likes it or not.
But this ramen was just way beyond the ordinary sense of improving to the point of greatness. Should a ramen place serving this ramen open up in the neighborhood, they’d undoubtedly become regulars there. Hell, even if it was several train stations away they’d take the chance to go there every single time. It was simply that addictive of a flavor.
“Oh boy… Who the hell made this?” Asked Lt Atsugi.
“Shouldn’t it be POC Natsuzawa’s shift?” Replied Lt Cdr Maizuru.
Then, Lt Kanoya, the supervisor of the culinary technicians, cleared it up.
“Yeah, actually… Natsuzawa’s injured and is out asleep. The one who took over for him is PO1 Tokushima.”
“Ohhh. That’s the one Edajima brought along, no? That guy?”
Maizuru said as he gulped down the soup.
“Hey, Edajima. About that Tokushima guy… Sure, he’s good enough to be picked as one of the Hashidate’s cooks, but I wonder why would you bring someone like that with him?”
“Well, the details sound personal so I can’t really say for sure, but I understood it as him challenging himself outside the kitchen so that he could grow as a cook…”
“Huh??? You grow as a cook by doing something unrelated to cooking?”
Usually, the more one spends time away from their skills the more those skills get rusty. The French pianist Alfred Cortot once said that, “Do away with practice for a day and you’ll hear it. Do away with practice for two days and a critic will hear it. Do away with practice for three days and the audience will hear it.” He suggested continuous practice every day to keep one’s skills sharp, provided one doesn’t overdo it.
But it appears that Edajima believed the opposite.
“Yes. At least, that’s the case with him. In fact, based on this ramen’s deliciousness, I’d even say he has improved his hand at cooking. It’s miles better than when I first ate one of his dishes.”
“Really now?”
“Yes, really. If I were to compare him to a pianist, he’d be an excellent performer, but nothing more than that; he simply plays what he had been taught with perfect execution. Yes, he would already be ‘amazing,’ but hearing him play doesn’t exactly inspire curiosity, excitement, or interest. That was who he was when I met him. But now that he’s experienced all these hardships and suffering, he can play his pieces with rich emotions. Something along those lines.”
“Huh. I guess I understand.”
“So now you’ve had your fill of his dish. How is it? Yes, it’s just your ordinary ramen—not exactly an exotic dish or one you’d expect at a luxurious dinner. But don’t you think he’s turned it into an exquisite work of art? When you take a sip, doesn’t it feel as if he’s telling you, ‘How’s this potato ramen? Makes you not want to eat anything else, right?’ Every sip of this ramen is filled with that man’s demonic desires to make you the potato’s slaves—it’s believers… But it’s good. It really is good.”
Before they knew it, the officers were overwhelmed by Edajima’s eerie nature and disposition.
“Well, I, uhh… I don’t really get it, but I’ll agree that it’s one hell of a ramen.”
But Edajima wasn’t done.
“Right??? If that Citreon editor-in-chief who lambasted him before were to meet him now, I wonder what’d he say… ‘Uhh, I don’t like this! If he cooked something I like, I’ll be proud of him! I’ll drag him through all the corners of the earth and make him the avatar of lust!’ or something like that?”
Demonic desires? Avatar of lust? What the hell has this man gone through? Such were the thoughts rustling through the minds of every single officer in the mess. But what really caught their attention were the “hardships” and “suffering” he mentioned earlier. What in Buddha’s name did this guy put Tokushima through? Usually, in that context, one would say “hardships and victories” or something along those lines. The officers were wondering if Edajima didn’t just say it or if there was more to the story.
But no one could muster the courage to ask. Especially not when they see the devilish grin on Edajima’s face. He’d probably think they were scared of him if they asked.
Poor Tokushima. He probably has more tribulations in store for him. At least cooking would turn into an outlet. Maybe that’s how his “growth as a cook” worked. Then, everybody simultaneously reached a certain thought.
“Hey… If we make him suffer more, don’t you think we’ll get even more delicious grub?”
Just as soon as they thought that way, though, they realized how messed up it sounded. They shook their heads in the hopes of getting such devilish thoughts out. There was another thing they realized in the process: maybe that’s what this Edajima guy thought so, too, and is now possessed by it?
“B-By the way, Edajima, sir…”
Wanting to change the topic, Maizuru broke the ice.
“Yes?”
“What exactly do we do after this?”
“You may give your compliments to the chef so that he’ll cook more for you. It’s the least you could do for him.”
“No, not that. I’m talking about what we, the Kitashio, will do after this.”
Right now, the submarine is stopped and hovering at a depth of 18m east of a region on the map known as the East Redoubt Reef. Everyone was wondering why they had stopped at this specific part of the map.
“That’s why you’re here, right, sir? To rescue the Japanese taken captive by the pirates? That’s why we’re going to do some raids on a passing pirate ship or a pirate base, right?”
After the closing of the Gate with the conclusion of peace negotiations with the Empire and the subsequent uproar it caused, it reopened once again, allowing for the resumption of trade between Japan and the Empire. Still, access to the Special Region by Earth-borne people was limited to the Alnus Autonomous Prefecture; safety beyond that still couldn’t be guaranteed so leaving Alnus was forbidden. But they couldn’t exactly put up walls all across the prefecture, so if anybody really wanted to leave they could do so without much difficulty. With the Special Region’s largely unexplored places and overall mythos, journalists, explorers, and reporters who want to make a name for themselves cross into the Gate to explore the region’s unique species, cultures, traditions, and artifacts.
One such individual was crossing the sea on a boat when they were beset by pirates and were taken prisoner.
“There are quite a few inaccuracies in your statement.”
Edajima continued.
“Firstly, we’re not in a position to take such dangerous measures. That’s because our captive has already been sold to a slave merchant, so we’re not ‘fighting’ pirates anytime soon. Thus, our plan of action is to not go on the attack but rather to negotiate. But that’s not why I’m here; a foreign affairs ministry rescue team has already ventured into this area three months ago and is embroiled in negotiations. My role here is to give them something. Another point of inaccuracy in your statement is that the captive is not Japanese.”
“They’re not?” Asked Maizuru.
“Yes. They’re an American journalist.”
The officers collectively groaned out loud. But they more or less understood why they have to be the ones resolving this issue.
As officers of the MSDF, they know all too well how the political circumstances that have gripped Japan since the Ginza incident got even messier as time went on. That isn’t to mention the state of the international community, which does not like the Japanese monopoly on access to the Gate and has been intently eyeing the situation to find an excuse to intervene. What better excuse is there than the capture of one of their citizens and the necessity of rescuing them? There would then come demands for the clearance of their diplomats (actually intelligence agents) and special forces to set up bases and operate in the Special Region. Once they ever allow that to happen, there’d be nothing stopping them from offering all sorts of pretenses to stay after the incident is resolved and extend their influence all across the Special Region. The White House must be pestering the government with such demands at this very moment. This must be why the MSDF and the government are going all out in the rescue of this foreigner and sparing no expense to bring them back home.
“So you’re saying we’re going to ransom them?” Asked Atsugi.
“It’s not a ‘ransom.’ See, the sale and purchase of human beings are still legal in this world, right? So what we’re doing is just giving adequate compensation to the merchant to ensure the delivery of the goods.”
“Adequate compensation in the form of our hard-earned tax money?”
“Well, this falls under the government’s obligation, so…”
“…”
At the end of the Russo-Japanese War, Japan won its interests in Manchuria and its attempts to monopolize the region made the United States and the United Kingdom jealous. Japan was then diplomatically boxed in and internationally isolated, leading to the Pacific War breaking out. It is imperative that they never repeat such a catastrophic failure in the present.
Edajima continued the conversation to get everyone on the same page about what they were doing.
“So why is the Kitashio stopped in this part of the ocean, you ask? We’re here to rendezvous with a native ally who will help us infiltrate the state where the slave merchant is.”
“Infiltrate?”
“Yes. Actually, that particular state is currently being blockaded by a pirate armada, so we cannot safely enter onboard a regular merchant ship. That is why I’ve had you bring me all the way out here.”
Just then, the crisp sound of metallic clanking echoed all throughout the Kitashio. It sounded like a hammer hitting an iron plate.
“It’s coming from our hull!”
The sonar room reported. The senior petty chief officer in the control room demanded answers.
“Who’s doing that?!”
But no one responded.
When something produces a strange sound, the submarine’s sonar room simply reports where the sound is coming from. Since they’re underwater, they can’t just rely on visual or even olfactory senses, so sound is the only means to know where they are and what is out there. That is precisely why they have to be on guard whenever a strange, unknown sound is detected. With the report from the sonar room that the sound is coming from their hull, there’s a possibility that the sound is coming from a mechanical failure of some kind.
Clang clang clang!
The unknown sound continued to ring, causing the officers to begin sweating profusely. But Edajima had an answer.
“Seems like they’re finally here.”
“They?” Asked Maizuru.
“Our native ally.”
Everyone turned their attention to Captain Kurokawa. It seems like the captain had been eating silently on the sidelines all this time so they must be keeping track of the conversation. Seeing everyone’s attention firmly on him, Kurokawa sighed. It looked as if he was forced to act on something he didn’t want anything to do with.
“Atsugi. Open the muzzle door of Tube 1.”
“The muzzle door? Even though Tube 1 isn’t loaded so it’s empty?”
“Just do it. We’re not launching a torpedo, anyway.”
Turns out not even Kurokawa would budge about why they’re doing that. With that, chief weapons officer Atsugi went and relayed Kurokawa’s orders to the chief torpedo officer.
Clang clang clang!
Tokushima was cleaning up at the galley when the unknown sound first reverberated throughout the hull. Then, when he heard the SCPO shout “Who’s doing that?!” he stopped washing the bowl he was cleaning and sighed.
“Tsk! Edajima, Edajima… You did it again!”
Even though he’s so excellent at what he does… Well, the fact that he is excellent at what he does is why he has difficulty understanding human emotion. He just doesn’t check all the effective communication and cooperation boxes that make for successful management. He especially has the most offenses toward him and he has made everything a tribulation ever since he accepted his offer to work for him.
“Sorry, but could you take the next shift?”
“Oh, yeah sure.”
After leaving the next shift to PO2 Takada, Tokushima wiped his hands and left the galley. He proceeded toward the torpedo room at the bow section of the Kitashio just past the galley. Climbing the ladder up, he saw the neatly arranged columns of torpedoes, and beyond them, crew members had already begun opening the underwater torpedo tube’s muzzle door.
There are three doors in an underwater torpedo tube: the shutter is the outermost one and is integrated into the submarine’s outer hull; the muzzle door is what opens to launch a torpedo into the water; and the breech door is the door facing the pressure hull and is where the torpedo is loaded into. Opening the muzzle door naturally meant opening the shutter, which would introduce seawater into the torpedo tube.
“Oh? Is that you, Tokushima?”
The chief torpedo officer caught a glance of Tokushima.
“If you’re here, then that means you’re acting out our visiting captain’s whims, eh?”
So he really didn’t say anything to anyone! Sure, you’re taught in the SDF to do as you’re ordered whether you like it or not, but Tokushima believes that everyone deserves an explanation of what’s about to happen.
“Actually, someone else is coming.”
Tokushima tried to choose his words.
“‘Coming’? From outside? As in through the torpedo tube? Even though we’re underwater?”
While they were talking, Edajima, Captain Kurokawa, and the other officers showed up at the torpedo room.
“Oh, you’re here too! And I didn’t even have to order you to! You sure are a gifted individual, you!”
“Ahh, Edaji—err, sir! I’d really appreciate it if you told us in advance! We could have done more prep work for our visitor!”
“It’s fine. They’re not the type to mind if we don’t roll out the red carpet.”
Edajima doesn’t seem to be concerned with pleasantries if it isn’t needed. Tokushima, however, just elected to keep his mouth shut.
Shortly after the muzzle door was opened, they heard a clanging sound that sounded as if something was tapping the submarine hull. Kurokawa immediately issued new orders.
“‘Kay, close the muzzle door and drain the tube of water.”
The torpedo officers went to work.
“Open the breech door.”
“Opening the breech door.”
The chief torpedo officer opened the breech door of tube 1.
“Oooh!”
Just as he did, a face suddenly popped out of the supposedly empty torpedo tube.
“W-What the—!!!”
“It’s a woman!”
The torpedo officers were taken aback. Tokushima already told them that somebody was coming so they expected that somebody had entered the torpedo tube from outside, but they imagined someone in a diving suit or some high-spec special forces. Instead, out came a woman who looked like she was in her early 20s. What’s more, she was half-nude—only her very long hair wrapped around her breasts like a halterneck-type bikini. For a group of men who have been clustered amongst one another for months on end, the sight was nothing less than stimulating.
“Hello, everyone! Nice to meet y’all!… Ah! It’s you, Tokushima!”
For some reason, she spoke Japanese, albeit with an accent. Recognizing Tokushima from among her ‘welcome party,’ she swung her arms around, gripped the rim of the torpedo tube, and flung herself into the torpedo room in a flip, exposing her lower half.
“Kemmy!!! Glad to have you on—Huh?! Ah, wait wait—!!!”
Now that she was out of the tube, she was finally exposed: a long fishtail extended from her hips, revealing herself as a mermaid. Naturally, she couldn’t stand by herself, so Tokushima promptly went into action, catching her midair in a princess carry. But it wasn’t spontaneous; she boldly threw herself into the air because she knew he would catch her.
“Aww, ‘knew I could count on good ‘ol Tokushima! Gosh, you’re making me blush now!”
“You too, Kemmy! You never cease to amaze me, you and your… scrumptious fishtail!”
With what is essentially a nude woman clinging onto him, Tokushima had trouble figuring out where to look, so he went for her tail. Of course, he also said the first thing that came to mind. But Kemmy looked charmed, squeezing her breasts together as she looked down in embarrassment.
“‘Scrumptious’? Oh, you’re such a perv, you~! Too bad I ain’t ever giving you the light of day! This woman here’s a loving wife, after all! Ain’t no way, I’m letting you taste these~♥”
“I’ll have you know, finely cut fins make for a great addition to soup!”
“Hmph…! Can’t you think of anything else you’d find scrumptious?! Here’s a clue for ya: looky here, up top! Why have fin toppings when you could have, two fully ripe melons and a pair of beautiful cherry pink mussels~♥? Riiiight? Right?!”
The rest of the crew, once puppy-eyed from being entranced by her looks, were now warping their faces in cringe. Their expressions darkened as they wondered with jealous eyes how the oblivious Tokushima could be blessed with such an ‘impassioned’ friend.
Tokushima, meanwhile, more or less understood that he was only being teased by Kemmy so he only really saw her as being bothersome. Be that as it may, he also understood how being the target of Kemmy’s charms puts him in the crosshairs of his fellow men.
His fellow crew members stared daggers into him while he held in his arms a walking—no, swimming sea mine of a woman. Caught between a rock and a hard place, all he could do was force out a wry smile.
Linking up with their native allies, Kemmy and her fellow Aquas tribe members (also known as mermaids), the JMSDF attack submarine Kitashio proceeded west, arriving at a shallow region of the sea referred to in maps as the East Redoubt Reef, a gigantic coral reef that’s one of many in the Special Region’s oceans. With an average depth of 10m, the shallowest parts go up to almost sea level even at high tide. The corals make up entire barriers, making navigation for ships difficult if not outright impossible. If someone didn’t know any better and recklessly ventured into this region, they may get grounded at best, shipwrecked and marooned at worst. In other words, these were dangerous waters.
The closest real-world analogy may be the Great Barrier Reef off the northeastern coast of Australia.
At Captain Kurokawa’s orders, the Kitashio was surfaced. Lookouts were posted all along the length of the submarine, atop the sail, and on the sail foreplanes. Meanwhile, they carefully sailed on, venturing and maneuvering into the gaps in between the cliff-like coral reefs.
However, standing on the bridge of the submarine, Kurokawa was hopelessly restless. No matter how much he strained his eyes, he couldn’t see far into the pitch-black abyss that was the depths. They do have night vision scopes, but not even these things could see far under the waves. They’re already making use of ultrasound imaging and other means to help navigation but these were hardpressed to keep up with the complex changes on the seafloor. Beads of sweat started to form all over Kurokawa’s forehead.
“You know, Edajima… This isn’t all that different from walking along the edge of a cliff with a blindfold, hmm?”
Edajima, who stood behind him, replied.
“That’s what we have the Aquas girls for. They’ve lived most of their lives in the pitch-black environment of the depths so they have very sharp senses. Even in the dead of night, they could easily find their way around these reefs as if it were midday and we weren’t underwater.”
Right now, the only thing Kurokawa and the crew could make out in the pitch-black depths was the glow of the lights carried by Kemmy and her peers. She and nine other Aquas held their lights akin to buoys and formed two parallel lines; the right line held red lights while the left line held green lights. As long as the Kitashio sailed in between the two lines, it could safely pass in between the dark, imposing walls of the coral reefs.
“You sure we could trust ‘em?”
“Of course. They may look like that, but they have the important parts down. I wouldn’t be relying on them if they didn’t.”
They may have Edajima’s seal of approval, but Kurokawa was nonetheless uneasy. Seeing how she was when she first popped out of that torpedo tube, he had the impression that if they mess up and the submarine is jeopardized, they’ll all just go “hehe, whoops!” and shrug it off.
But Edajima and these girls go way back. Rather, there wasn’t an individual in the MSDF who was more knowledgeable of the Special Region’s peoples. That’s why even as he advanced in rank up to a position where he could comfortably call an air-conditioned office space his workspace, he’s always present out in the field doing the dirty work.
In all honesty, Kurokawa was envious of him. Even then, he had Edajima to thank for allowing him to come back to the job of captain. For a ship to operate in the Special Region, not a single one of its crew members must be unfamiliar with the ship and its captain must possess a high degree of decisiveness. It was thanks to Edajima’s recommendation that the Kitashio was saved from the maws of decommissioning and he was allowed to go to the Special Region as its captain.
“Bridge to control. Rudder, 10 degrees to port.”
IC forwarded the officer of the deck’s order to the control room. The submarine’s course started to turn to the left as the night sky shifted to the right.
Having come this far, Kurokawa decided to bin his misgivings toward Kemmy and her peers. As it is right now, the Kitashio is in the hands of the girls, like a blindfolded person being led by someone without it. The girls understood this, too, and did their part to make sure the submarine passed through the reefs safely. The beads of sweat that were dripping from Kurokawa’s brow had long turned from one of uneasiness in trusting the girls to uneasiness in maneuvering the submarine right.
“5 degrees to starboard.”
“5 degrees to starboard, aye…”
Owing to the streamlined shape of the hull minimizing drag, the seawater around the submarine was easily redirected all the way to the stern where the gigantic propeller sent them back forcefully. But this also raised the fear of the girls being sucked into the current and into the spinning propeller. They can’t have their benefactors face such a cruel end.
Another point worth mentioning is that they are in a submarine, which isn’t well-suited to deal with rescue operations. Rescuing a single person may still be doable, but it would be difficult if they were faced with a sinking ship with multiple people overboard. If they bring the submarine close to try and rescue them, they might instead get sucked into the propeller, turning a bad situation into an even worse one.
Once the Kitashio was past the East Redoubt Reef, they turned off its diesel-electric engines. Above deck, three navigation officers turned to the night sky with their sextants. For the light-bearing mermaids, the sight of the men working on deck was a curious spectacle; fortunately for the crew members, the darkness meant that they had no idea that they were being watched and so continued with their work.
“Okaaaay… Set!”
At the XO’s signal, everyone set about to measure the height of the target star.
“Heeey! Pssst! Tokushima! What’re y’all doin’ over there?”
Kemmy went and asked Tokushima, who had been pressed into the role of supervising the Aquas.
“Well, you see, they measure how high up a certain star is in the sky and that allows us to know where we currently are in the ocean!”
With diving qualifications under his belt, Tokushima was able to work with the girls in underwater ops for a long time. Actually, instead of being on the sub, he was currently in the pitch-black water with the girls. Of course, he had a diving suit and gear with him.
“Wait, soooo lemme get this straight: you guys can’t find your way without doin’ all that?”
“Well, yeah? Take a look around you. You can’t really tell what’s ‘front’ from ‘back’ out here!”
“If you put it like that, you have a point…”
Without GPS or LORAN (a navigation system that enables a user to know their current location through the use of low-frequency radio waves broadcasted from multiple locations), maritime navigation in the Special Region could only be done through the use of rudimentary celestial navigation. Making this possible had been Tokushima’s first mission: gathering the required astronomical data to enable celestial navigation. Fortunately for him and everyone, the astronomers of the scholarly city of Rondel provided them with detailed astronomical surveys; had it not been for them, the MSDF would’ve still been limited to sailing along the coast and their mission of venturing out into the Avion Sea would’ve been impossible.
“What about you guys? How do you know where you are, where’s the way back home, and so on?”
“For us, we can see and make out the appearance of the sea floor. All ‘em mountains, valleys… it’s so much more exciting than what you see up here on the surface.”
“Huuuuh.”
“Tokushimaaaa!!! We’re done with the buoys!”
Just then, three mermaids came toward him while splashing about.
“Thanks so much! Let’s get back on the sub’s deck! I actually have some food to give…”
“Yaaay! Gosh, you make the best food, Tokushima!”
Climbing onto the submarine’s deck, Tokushima went to a cooler that had been placed there, took out some plastic bags with food inside, and handed them over to the Aquas. The girls giggled with excitement as they climbed and sat on the deck before receiving their food. Tokushima joined them as well.
Of course, the sight of Tokushima surrounded on all sides by Aquas earned glares of resentment from the other crew members standing on the deck.
“Man, look at that! Screw that guy!”
He could hear their hushed backbiting.
But when it comes to women, no matter how beautiful they look once more than three of them gather around you it becomes significantly harder to handle them. This is exacerbated if there was even a single woman who was as imposing as Kemmy.
“Heeeey, Tokushima, darling, humor me will you? See, my little girl Juno looks like she’s got the hots for you. Whaddya think?”
“What do I think? I feel like I shouldn’t even be thinking about that…”
“Oh nuh-uh! You saying my little girl ain’t enough for you?! She’s clinging onto you and everything! You know how she looks when she says, ‘I wanna be big bro Tokushima’s wifey!”
“Ah, no, I understand that she means well, but she’s sooo young…”
The Aquas tribe celebrates polygamy and having multiple children. The Juno that Kemmy was referring to was her youngest daughter and was hardly four years old. However, since Aquas mature earlier than humans, in terms of human looks and physiology Juno was already 10 years old. Still, even by human female standards, she was too young. For the 26-year-old Tokushima, his ideal woman was someone who’s aged 16 years old to 30 years old (if the marriageable age is ever raised to 18 years old, he’d move up the minimum to 18 years old).
“Oh, so if Juno’s not your type, what about my daughter?”
“No, what about my daughter?”
One by one, the other mermaids started to ask Tokushima. At first glance, they may look like they’re just teasing him, but they’re also seriously gauging their daughters’ chances.
The inhabitants of the village of Pido, the settlement the girls live in, are for some reason or another all related to one another. In this state, together with their economic reliance on the MSDF for work as native allies, means that they’re serious about looking for spouses for their children. To give an idea as to how serious they were, their puppy eyes glimmered in the dark as they looked at Tokushima all while words such as “I’m a public servant” and “I want to have a stable income” became distant whispers to them. This is why he was so careful with coming up with an answer, knowing that the slightest bit of misstep could land him in big-time trouble. Not to mention the pointy glares from his fellow crew members that had been poking him in the back for a while now.
“If you’re so inclined I’d be happy to give up my spot! If only they get a taste of their own medicine, those goddamned dumbasses…”
He spat out mentally. They may be envying his position, but Tokushima would gladly give it up in a heartbeat. If only…
The three navigation officers reported back their numbers, which varied wildly from one another due to instrument and skill differences, but the XO who was also the quartermaster managed to synthesize their numbers into a final geographic coordinate: 28° 17’ N, 14° 50’ E. This meant that the Kitashio had successfully reached its planned position. Now, it was time for Edajima and Tokushima to disembark.
“Control to PO1 Tokushima. Proceed to the officer’s mess.”
An announcement from the control room sounded through the submarine. Having already packed his things, Tokushima promptly proceeded to the officer’s mess. There, he found an Edajima wearing native civilian clothing waiting for him. Of course, Tokushima was wearing similar clothes. Sure, their skin complexion and hair color looked a bit out of place but in a world where there are all sorts of demihumans, hardly anyone would bat an eye.
“Ready to go, Tokushima?”
He already looked like he was perfect to blend into the Special Region, but Edajima was just making sure his underling was good to go.
“Yes, sir, I’m ready to go.”
With a wide grin on his face, Edajima nodded.
“Then let’s.”
“Yes! Let’s.”
Exiting the officer’s mess, the two turned in the direction of the stern and toward a ladder at the end of the corridor. There, they saw the crew carrying a boat’s outboard motor through the cramped corridor, up the ladder, and trying to get it outside the submarine through a hatch. Another crew member was lugging a big, heavy-looking metal briefcase. When he saw Tokushima, he cried out to him.
“Oi, Tokushima! The hell’s in here, huh?! It’s so fucking heavy!”
Tokushima replied in jest.
“Be careful with that! It’ll be bad if you dropped it!”
“Huh, the fuck?! Is it a bomb?!”
“No, but if what’s inside spilled out, it’ll be a pain to pick it all up, so please be careful.”
Edajima clarified to him that there was nothing dangerous inside.
Emerging out onto the deck, the sky was still dim, but a faint light started to peak above the horizon to the east, a sign that dawn was upon them. Kurokawa, who came up to see them off, called out to them.
“Come back in one piece, Edajima! Tokushima, he’s all yours! Look out for him for me, will ‘ya?”
“Of course, captain! This is Edajima, we’re talking about, so he’ll be fine! Well, I’ll still try my best!”
Tokushima bowed in acknowledgment as he was no longer in his service uniform.
They turned around to see that the crew had finished preparing their rigid inflatable boat and that SCPO Tagami, their pilot, had already boarded it. With the big metal briefcase also loaded and Kemmy and the Aquas ready to guide them, all that was left to do for Edajima and Tokushima was to board the boat.
Tokushima descended first. Carefully latching onto the rope ladder hanging from the deck down onto the submarine’s sloped surface, he descended onto the boat. Edajima followed suit.
Taking his seat, Tokushima dipped his hand into the sea and plopped one of his fingers into his mouth.
“Mmm. Just as salty as the Sea of Japan!”
“Wow, how smart of you! Turns out they’re both seas! D’you expect any different?”
Kemmy quipped.
“Actually, it’s a bit off…”
“Huh, f’real?!”
“Yeah, it’s a bit more… tasty here.”
SCPO Tagami started the engine. Slowly, the boat started to drift away from the Kitashio.
“‘Kay! Let’s go!”
Following Kemmy and the Aquas’ lead, the boat sailed off to land on the horizon.
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