The scent of rust and old engine grease lingered as Eduard and Fusō stood in the centre of the hangar; the last glow of her awakening slowly faded from her skin. She moved with quiet precision, the faint shimmer of rigging still dancing like shadows in candlelight behind her. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The stillness was nearly sacred.
Then, softly, she broke it.
"This place... It is not of my world either."
Eduard surveyed the hangar, taking in the peculiar Germanic structure and the unusual angles of light. The eerie stillness of the long-abandoned aircraft added to the sense of mystery. There was something about this place that felt... wrong. It was familiar, yet not quite the same.
"No. It doesn't feel like anything I've ever seen before," he said. "Not on Yamatai, that's for sure."
She gave him a knowing glance. "Good; I feel nothing but contempt for that cursed island."
They looked outside the hangar at the sky; the fog had begun to lift.
Outside the hangar, the mist thinned just enough for Fusō to see the contours of her hull, the Fusō, rising like a ghost from the shoreline. Her breath caught.
It wasn't a wreck. It wasn't shattered or scorched. It stood proud and silent, like it had been waiting for her. The sight of it brought her to tears. Her geta pressed into the dew-slick concrete. Hands trembled. She didn't cry, but the breath she took was raw and deep. "I… I'm back. Milord, thanks to you, I have found a new purpose. I can feel it; there are so many catastrophe-stricken souls still awaiting their salvation."
Eduard looked at her with concern in his eyes, and without thinking, he reached out to her. Her lips stretched into a soft smile as she spread her arms and hugged him. Due to their height difference, his head was enveloped by her ample bosom; it gave him pause, and his stomach felt as though he had swallowed some of the beautiful butterflies that danced around her. His face became flushed with warmth as her femininity enveloped him like a silky-soft cocoon.
She smelt like sweet incense one would find in a temple, and a feeling of calm came over him, one he hadn't felt ever since his arrival on Yamatai. He didn't want to let go, but a powerful gust of wind caused him to shiver. Even when her warmth tried to combat the cold, he was reminded of their current situation. And so, with great reluctance, he separated from her. He could see her face, which looked completely innocent…
"Milord…? Has something strange possessed you?" She pressed her palm to his forehead and looked at him with concern.
"No, don't worry, Fusō; it's just the cold…" These words reminded her of the differences between them, giving her pause. She was accustomed to the icy waters of the North Pacific, so the cold didn't bother her. "Then let us see if there is anything to start a fire," Fusō said gently, her tone both considerate and practical.
Eduard nodded, brushing his hair back from his face. "Right. Fire. I'll recheck the jerrycans to see if there's enough left to make something burn."
He turned toward the corner of the hangar where he had tripped earlier. As he approached, he noticed something unsettling: the slow, steady line of fuel stretching from the jerrycan and the way it… vanished. It wasn't pooling or soaking the concrete. Instead, it drained directly into a long, razor-straight gap running across the floor, too precise to be natural, made on purpose.
He knelt beside it and traced a finger near the seam. Cold metal. He stood, eyes narrowing; there was no mistaking it now. A hatch. The hatch, camouflaged in dust and age, was designed to look like the rest of the hangar floor. It had nearly fooled him.
"Fusō," he called, voice low but urgent. "Come here. I think I found something." She walked over silently, the fluttering chime of her geta echoing across the hangar floor. She knelt beside him and studied the gap, her expression tightening.
Fusō watched him, her tone even. "A place built to stay hidden."
He scanned the nearby area, eyes settling on a rusted crowbar resting against a stack of old crates. He grabbed it, wedged it into the groove, and pushed. Metal groaned. The door shifted, but only slightly. "Stuck." He pushed harder. "Decades of rust. Needs leverage—" The crowbar snapped in his hands. "Shit," he hissed, stumbling backward.
Before he could curse again, Fusō stepped forward. She knelt with quiet grace, placed her hands along the hatch's edge, and lifted. No strain. No noise beyond the rusted groan of the door, which hadn't been opened for some time. The metal door screeched upward and crashed open with a bang that echoed through the hangar.
Dust billowed out from below. She rose smoothly, adjusting her sleeves as if she'd simply opened a window. The ease with which she had opened the door was surprising, and it filled Eduard with a sense of wonder at her strength and grace.
Eduard stared at her in stunned silence. Fusō turned to him, her expression placid. "Is something the matter, milord?"
He blinked, mouth slightly open. He tried to find the right words, but all that came out was
"… I'm just glad you're on my side." His voice cracked slightly at the end, and he cleared his throat, glancing away.
Fusō tilted her head, blinking once. Then she smiled, serene, slightly amused, and somehow still impossibly gentle. Without another word, she stepped aside to let him look down into the darkness. The hatch lay open at their feet, revealing a steep metal staircase spiralling into the earth. Cold air exhaled from within, smelling of dust, oil, and something else: copper wires and abandonment.
Eduard stared down at it, the quiet hum of something dormant brushing the edge of his hearing. Fusō stood beside him, one hand resting lightly on the hatch, her other arm loosely folded beneath her chest. "I suppose fire can wait," he said, adjusting the strap of his satchel with a nervous chuckle. "Let's find out what they didn't want anyone to see."
Fusō gave a soft nod. Her butterflies reappeared, flickering blue like embers to light the way ahead, drifting ahead of them like guardians. They descended together. The staircase creaked with every step. The air turned colder. Musty. Electric. After what felt like forever, the stairs ended with a heavy door adorned with an emblem he did not recognise.
The door loomed before them, massive and unnaturally intact compared to the concrete that made up the rest of the facility. But what caught Eduard's eye wasn't its size. It was the symbol carved in the dead centre of the blackened alloy. The emblem had a sharp edge, akin to a blade. Its geometry was brutal and symmetrical, somewhere between a knight's cross and the stylised silhouette of a warship's keel. The whole design narrowed at the base, resembling both a dagger and an anchor. And then, a name surfaced in his mind… Iron Blood? Eduard reached out instinctively, his fingers brushing the centre of the insignia. Cold. It radiated a kind of presence, as if the door was waiting for him to do something.
It was bare. Stark. No buttons. No floor indicator. Just a sleek, obsidian datapad embedded beside the frame, its surface smooth and faintly reflective, save for a single imprint of a palm reader outlined in red. No labels. No prompts. There was only a subtle hint of a purpose. Eduard stared at it. "That's...something...."
Fusō said nothing, her gaze fixed on the scanner. He hesitated, then raised his hand. The moment his palm hovered above the reader, the red outline brightened, responding not to contact but to proximity, like it had been waiting for him specifically.
The pad emitted a low chime. Lines of crimson light rippled outward, threading into the steel wall like veins. The lift vibrated underfoot, not violently, but with the weight of systems waking beneath them.
SYNC INITIATED
PRIMARY SIGNATURE: VERIFIED
ACCESS LEVEL: COMMANDANT
GLORY TO THE IRON BLOOD
The door hissed. It started to swing open. Eduard's breath caught. "I didn't sign up for this," he muttered. Fusō only watched him, her voice calm. "You were chosen, milord. Even before you arrived."
The platform shuddered as they entered and began to descend. There were no mechanical clanks or screeching metal. Just the low, smooth hum of well-maintained technology, concealed for decades beneath the hangar floor. Eduard and Fusō stood in silence, watching the lift walls glide past them, the air cool and dry. The further they dropped, the more the walls changed, from plain concrete to reinforced plating and eventually to a blend of glass and polished alloy that reflected their faces in shifting fragments.
The lift's descent ended with a soft mechanical clunk. Eduard and Fusō stepped out into a long corridor lined with flickering lights. The air was dry and still. No wind, no sound, just the hum of machinery that was somehow still on.
The corridor walls were made of the same dark alloy as the lift. Faded Iron Blood insignias stamped at intervals marked this place as one of their installations. But it wasn't the primary base of operations, that much was clear. This place was abandoned. Forgotten. And if his instincts were right, it had been left in a hurry.
"This doesn't feel like a battlefield," he muttered. "Feels like a tomb."
The hallway narrowed, ending in a reinforced blast door that was partially ajar.
Eduard stepped inside first.
The room beyond was larger than expected. Rows of desks stood scattered around a recessed central archive pit. Holographic table interfaces, long deactivated, filled the centre. The walls were lined with towering file cabinets, ceiling-mounted storage, and workbenches littered with notes, rusted tools, and yellowed folders.
Dust clouded the air.
Fusō knelt beside a fallen stack of boxes. "It's a repository."
Eduard moved to one of the desks filled with files and started flipping through their contents. A set of files, hand-bound and stamped with Iron Blood wax seals, bore names and dates in German. He began reading aloud for Fusō, who lingered behind him.
"Operation Stahlseele... The experimental integration of KAN-SEN resonance systems into dormant hulls was unsuccessful. Subject: Mainz. Status: suspended until further notice. Activation protocol incomplete. Cube error registered: A phase transfer component is missing. Hypothesis: environmental variable or interference."
He frowned and translated. "They tried to awaken something here. But something was wrong... they were missing a component."
Eduard continued, flipping page after page. Research logs. Scans. Debriefings. Handwritten notes scrawled in German:
Eduard was stumped. "...what the hell are these cubes made of? They react to memory. Not power. It's like they're trying to stabilise something deeper. A structure? A soul?"
Another sheet:
PROJECT MAINZ – Light Cruiser Configuration
Eduard read it aloud. "They tried to bring her into existence based on blueprints alone... She wasn't even built."
Beside him, a cracked projector flickered to life, displaying a dusty schematic: the silhouette of a sleek ship girl, marked "Mainz".
Eduard sat back. "Shipgirls, officially called Kinetics Artifactual Navy-Self-regulative En-lore Node, or KAN-SEN. As the name implied, their existence embodied various naval warships in the form of humans, appearing as adult women, brought alive by a mysterious but powerful energy cube called Wisdom Cubes. They built KAN-SEN to fight the Sirens."
A final note, hastily written:
"We failed to awaken the subjects. The cubes... were never meant to be a battery. It's something older. It responds to resonance. And it is missing something; I can feel it."
He looked at the artefact hanging from his neck. Fusō stood quietly as he moved toward another cabinet. He found newspaper clippings. The newspaper clippings contained headlines in various languages. All old.
"Listen to this," Eduard muttered, his voice low.
He read aloud from a crumbling issue of what once was The Royal Herald:
LONDON FALLS
Three nights ago, a devastating Siren incursion claimed London. Civilian death tolls are estimated to exceed 1.7 million. The Thames Barrier was overrun by siren constructs, and aerial support from the Royal Navy failed to arrive. Survivors have fled to Scotland and parts of Northern Ireland. Prime Minister Hensley has not been seen since the Parliament building was vaporised in the attack.
He looked at Fusō. Her expression did not change, but he could sense a tension in her stance.
"There's more," he said, flipping to the next one.
NEW YORK STRUCK
Overnight bombardment by Siren energy weapons has left Manhattan uninhabitable. Evacuation orders came too late. Wall Street has collapsed, not just figuratively. The Statue of Liberty has reportedly sunk after a massive ocean quake triggered by siren units. President Glenfield declared martial law before being confirmed dead in a second strike on the Air Force Command.
Underneath the desk was a locked drawer. He opened the locked drawer using a bent nail as a pick and found a stack of decrypted military communiqués. Some were marked CLASSIFIED: PROJECT CRIMSON RETREAT. Others bore the Iron Blood insignia.
He pulled another clipping from beneath a file labelled AL Command Internal. He had blacked out the headline in marker, yet the subtext persisted.
The Academy of Excellence has been destroyed, resulting in the loss of all prospective Commander Cadets.
Sirens launched a surgical strike on Azur Lane's most secure training facility. The Academy, located deep inland and built to house future tactical leaders, has been reduced to ash. Without its commander candidates, Azur Lane's strategic structure collapsed.
"They never admitted they died," Eduard said grimly, "but they knew. Without them... it all started falling apart."
On an adjacent desk was another file. He read it aloud.
"Crimson Axis Report – Authorised Eyes Only
Subject: KAN-SEN Blame Assignment Protocol
With mounting civilian unrest and massive losses across all fronts, public confidence has eroded. Effective immediately, KAN-SEN assets will be removed from active duty, blamed for strategic failures, and reassigned to remote storage or stasis. Hostile sentiment ensures they will not be mourned."
"They blamed them," Eduard said, jaw tightening. "The ones who fought to protect them. They used them like weapons, then threw them away."
Fusō stepped forward, her eyes narrowing.
"This was not honorable," she said quietly. "This was fear. Cowardice."
This world had fractured. Humanity retreated inland. And the KAN-SEN, those who hadn't turned rogue or fled, were either abandoned or sealed away as the loss against the sirens was blamed upon them.
Eduard looked at Fusō and nodded, and so they continued, reading now from a heavily damaged document.
"Cube Sync Failure
The loss of qualified commanders has led to an unprecedented decline in Cube efficiency. Retrofitting attempts failed. Awakening sequences halted. No successful sync recorded in over six months. Wisdom Cubes exhibit erratic energy patterns. The KAN-SEN are dormant. Useless. One researcher hypothesises that without resonance, the cubes are merely stones.
He turned to the final document, a yellowed and cracked one labelled "Project: Mainz/Z23".
"Here it is," he whispered.
Shipgirl designation: Mainz – Light Cruiser.
They developed a prototype to replace the Admiral Hipper class, which boasted enhanced survivability and a rapid-fire main battery of 150mm guns. The idea originated from the 1930s Cruiser K blueprints. Not built due to the war's escalation. Cube instabilities halted her full awakening. Status: Sealed in Storage Bay 3; awaiting synchronisation.
Ship girl designation: Z23 – Retrofit Candidate.
The subject has achieved early success in developing her personality core. The retrofit sequence was corrupted during the mid-transfer process because of incomplete memory mapping. The subject exhibits dormant cube pulses, awaiting key resonance input. Status: Contained in Stasis Unit, Storage Bay 3.
Eduard set the file down slowly. He stared at the artefact, then at Fusō. He stood. "Let's move on…"
Room after room extended in multiple directions, but one chamber immediately drew their eyes. Storage Bay 3 was written in bold red letters above the open blast door. A large console dominated the far wall. The console was dust-coated, yet it remained operational. Screens flickered on as they approached, displaying fragmented data in German. Eduard brushed his fingers over the cracked surface, and the text adjusted slightly.
Eduard said, reading aloud. "Subject Z-23. Retrofit incomplete. Subject: Mainz. Cube instability detected. Unit preservation protocol engaged."
The room contained two sealed capsules, both vertical and humming faintly. Frost clung to the edges of the glass. Inside the first, he saw her. Z23. Slender and blond, she wore a pristine yet formal uniform. A small armband bore the old Iron Blood insignia. She looked asleep. Peaceful. Preserved.
"Subject: Zerstörer Z-23," he read from the terminal. "Condition: Stable. Sync Level: Low. Retrofit: Suspended pending stabilisation."
He turned to the second capsule. Mainz. She was taller and more refined and had a more regal bearing. Her outfit was elaborate, but it was torn in places. Unlike Z23, her expression was tense as if she had almost woken. She appeared to recall a drowning incident.
"SMS Mainz," he whispered. Originally a cruiser during World War I. The ship was sunk during the battle of Heligoland Bight... And now she's here."
The terminal beside her read: "Awakening Attempt Failed. Subject: Cube oscillating. Sync Source Missing."
He paused. Their current state matched Fuso's when he found her on the beach. "The artefact... It might be what they needed."
"This base", Fusō said softly, her tone heavier now, "it was a place of hope. And fear."
Eduard nodded, then stepped toward the data desk. He tapped several keys. German text appeared, but voice feedback spoke in clipped English.
"Retrofit Protocol... suspended. Synchronisation incomplete. Source Link: missing."
More logs followed. Archived footage. Voice recordings. One showed researchers debating. One man shouted that he needed more cubes. Another argued the artefact was vital. Then darkness. The final log was a scrawled report: "Sirens inbound. Station compromised. Retreat to Griffin Station."
Eduard felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. "Griffin Station... That must be another lab. If this is an outpost..."
He glanced at the capsules and the women frozen inside. They reminded him of relics, monuments to forgotten wars. For a brief moment, they almost seemed like statues in mourning.
Pity tugged at his chest, not just for them, but for what they represented. Tools forged in desperation, given form and life, then discarded the moment they were no longer helpful. Just like the ships of his timeline, proud, battle-scarred vessels were left to rot in scrapyards once the war ended. A cold fury stirred in his veins. This would not be their grave as long as he could change it. It was abandonment. Betrayal.
He clenched his jaw. "We need to wake them," Eduard said, his voice low but resolute, conviction burning behind his eyes. "They've waited long enough."
Fusō knelt by the Mainz pod. "This one's cube is crying. It's calling to something. Or someone."
Eduard looked at the artefact that was now secured over his chest.
"You got me into this mess; please don't fail me now."
He brought his hand to the pod's console. The artefact pulsed faintly; its warmth seeped into his chest. The console responded. Lights flared to life.
"Synchronisation possible. Please confirm command authorisation.
He hesitated, then pressed his hand to the scanner. It stung. The artefact responded like it had claimed him.
"Authorisation confirmed. Initiating awakening protocol."