Shipgirls were beings of beauty. It might be a stretch to call them the very embodiment of truth, goodness, and beauty—but they were certainly not evil.
So Hikaru wasn't afraid of Yamato at all. Instead, he asked, "What is it you want from me?"
Yamato blinked, then waved her hand dismissively. "Don't use your dark human assumptions to guess our intentions. Since your shipgirl loves you with all her heart, just live your life well and take responsibility for her happiness."
Hikaru rephrased his question. "Then what plans do you have for me?"
Yamato frowned. "You're far too calm for someone your age. You're not secretly some old monster who turned young again, are you? ...Just kidding. As for the specifics, someone will explain things to you later. In any case, your safety is covered. I'm busy, I've seen you now, so I'm out."
Without waiting for a reply, Yamato gave a casual wave, then strode off—her pace both slow and quick—vanishing from sight in just a few steps like a ghost.
"Yamato, huh? Now that's rare," Hikaru muttered, then chuckled to himself. Come to think of it, he was probably the biggest bug in this world. The thought made him grin like an idiot.
Outside the gates, Kamizawa Masaki and Saitō Takao were waiting.
Masaki had tried to stop the military from taking Hikaru on Founding Day, but his individual authority and voice had been far too weak. From Hikaru's perspective, though, Masaki's loyalties leaned toward the Shipgirl Headquarters side—someone worth getting to know.
Masaki handed over a nameplate. "Boss, here's your ID. Hope they didn't give you too much trouble?"
Hikaru glanced at it—sure enough, everything else had been reset except for the glaring "LV143" still displayed on it. He sighed. "What kind of 'boss' walks around flashing something like LV143? I'm just a noob, man! How am I supposed to explain this?"
Masaki shrugged. "Don't ask. The official line is that it's just a bug."
Hikaru nodded. That was their agreed-upon story for the public. For anyone who didn't know the truth, it made sense. Just chalk it up to some kind of soul anomaly.
Thinking it over, Hikaru clipped the badge to his chest and grinned smugly. "Alright then, I'll just cosplay as a top-tier player from now on."
Takao couldn't hold back his curiosity. "They really didn't do anything to you?"
In truth, the military had exercised considerable restraint. The entire incident had played out under public scrutiny, with too many hands involved. No one wanted to be the first fool to tear off the mask. Overall, aside from the intense questioning, the treatment had been decent—a cushy kind of house arrest.
"Nothing much. They even thanked me for my service and gave me compensation for emotional distress," Hikaru replied, eyeing Takao's dark eye circles. "You look like hell. Did they interrogate you too?"
Masaki smirked playfully. "Back in the old days, they'd nab the top scholar for marriage. Nowadays, they're catching grooms on Founding Day. You should've seen it—crowds gathered outside the registration center hoping to nab a good son-in-law. Takao here? He got hit with so many proposals, he didn't know who to say no to."
Takao widened his eyes. "Nonsense! I'm gonna be a marshal one day! From my first wife to my thirteenth concubine, they'll all be curvy main battleships with tight asses!"
Becoming a commander really was the modern version of leaping the dragon gate. Even for someone from a wealthy family like Takao, it meant skyrocketing status. Hikaru humored him with a few teasing remarks, then climbed into a nearby car to attend the welcome banquet they'd arranged.
According to Masaki, he would also be in charge of protecting Hikaru for now—at least until he officially enrolled in the Commander Academy.
From the car, a voice floated forward.
"Masaki-senpai, you know Yamato?"
"Who doesn't know the workhorse?" Masaki laughed. "Lemme tell ya, I was once in a combined fleet that had to hold off an attack from Abyssal Yamato. Damn, that beast had durability two or three times that of a main battleship and evasion rivaling a destroyer. Over 200 firepower, with those 460mm main guns? Everyone was equal under her blasts. Even her anti-air was a ridiculous 200-plus. Who the hell can survive that? That battle was brutal, let me tell you—"
Summer sun gilded the earth with gold as the scent of gardenias floated in the air. While high school seniors across the country fought their final academic battles, Hikaru's fate had already diverged down a different path—one lined with both roses and thorns.
Windridge — A City on an Island
This city lay in the southern seas of the Eastern Continent. Just thirty nautical miles north by ferry would take you to the mainland, where the provincial capital Hanato—home to the region's naval command—stood tall. Windridge Academy, overseen directly by the Shipgirl Division, sat on a nearby island, tethered to Hanato by sea and spirit.
Windridge itself also had its own Shipgirl Division base—one of the Eastern Continent's core branches, in fact.
And just under 300 nautical miles to the south? That was Abyssal territory.
Given its strategic importance, Windridge Academy stood proud. Even among the few major Commander Academies in the East—five or six at most—Windridge was a strong contender for the top.
This was to be Hikaru's new home.
In mid-July, the ferry carrying Hikaru docked at Windridge Port.
Takao stretched with a groan, practically rolling off the boat. "We should've flown. Long-distance travel's a killer."
"Flying's too dangerous. I could handle it, but you guys? Not so much."
Masaki, lugging local specialty goods in both hands, strolled casually onto the pier. The area was packed with people. His gaze followed a passing mature beauty, and he inhaled deeply, an expression of bliss blooming on his face.
"You damn perv of a commander!"
Wilhelmina kicked him in the shin and darted away with a mischievous grin.
Hikaru disembarked last, his face a little pale. He'd gotten seasick. They'd traveled by train across Huaguo's vast lands, stopping at various cities to sightsee—making a trip of it.
The military's compensation had been generous—an even one million—giving Hikaru plenty of spending power.
The fastest way would've been flying, of course. But the Eastern Continent was vast—tens of millions of square kilometers—and no force could guarantee complete air superiority. The Abyssal flagships, clever and persistent, routinely sent carrier aircraft inland to hit poorly defended factories and research facilities. And if they spotted a plane? They were more than happy to shoot it down.
Even hitting a bird could crash a plane—imagine something actively trying to kill you. Shipgirl aircraft, by the way, were usually no bigger than actual birds. The smallest were sparrow-sized; the largest, maybe hawks.
In short, air travel was risky.
And since Masaki had been assigned to escort Hikaru safely to the academy, there was no way he'd risk flying. He had to watch for Abyssal attacks—and overzealous humans too.
The trip had taken ten days, but they'd made the most of it, soaking in the culture and sights along the way.
Hikaru stood on the pier for a moment to recover, then straightened up and took in the city before him.