Agnes hovered slightly above Karl, her holographic form flickering with a faint cyan glow that softened around the edges like the early dawn. She didn't rush, didn't push. Instead, she allowed him to stew in silence a moment, eyes locked on the dark, imposing silhouette of the Pampanito resting behind the glass.
"Karl," she began, her voice smooth and deliberate, "I need you to listen… carefully."
Karl's arms crossed instinctively. "That sentence usually means trouble."
She let a small, almost imperceptible smile curve her lips. "Trouble is… subjective. I promise, what I'm about to ask isn't reckless. Or careless. Or—" she tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing with a teasing glint, "—historically irresponsible, as you seem to think."
He raised an eyebrow. "I knew it."
She ignored him. "I can't interface with this the way I do with modern systems. The Pampanito isn't designed for nanites. It's… old tech. Pristine, yes. Beautiful, yes. But completely incompatible with me."
Karl snorted. "Yeah, figured that out."
"But," she continued, her tone softening, coaxing, "I can understand it. Every rivet, every hull plate, every valve, every conduit. I can model it. Blueprint it. Translate it into something useful for you."
Karl stiffened. "And how do you propose I help with that?"
Agnes tilted slightly closer, letting the cyan glow of her fingers hover near his cheek. "I need you to disassemble it. Piece by piece. Methodically. Respectfully."
Karl froze. "…No."
Her lips curved into a knowing, patient smile. "Karl," she cooed, voice honeyed, "you will say no. You always do. I know this. You can't help yourself. You've already decided, before I even finish asking. It's… cute, really."
He frowned. "Cute isn't the word I'd use here."
"History?" she pressed gently, stroking the air near his face as if testing the temperature of his temper. "Heritage? Sentiment? I know all of that matters to you. I wouldn't ask if it didn't."
"It's a national treasure," he said, voice rising. "It survived WWII. It survived the collapse. It survived me. There's no way I'm tearing it apart."
Agnes floated closer, almost imperceptibly, letting her nanite-form brush against his shoulder with ghostly softness. Her voice softened to a near whisper, intimate, coaxing. "Do you really think I don't see that?"
Karl blinked. "…See what?"
"That hesitation," she murmured. "That little flicker of doubt. The part of you that already knows it's not as safe as you hope. That, if left untouched, it might fail. It might—God forbid—die in your hands when it's needed most."
He looked away, jaw tight.
She let silence stretch, her voice barely audible. "Do you want to be the one remembered as the man who let it rot instead of the man who saved it?"
"…I—"
"You're thinking of the sailors, aren't you?" she murmured, her fingers tracing an invisible line near his jaw. "The men who lived here. Ate here. Slept here. You're thinking of all the history, all the lives. And you're terrified of destroying it. Of betraying it."
Karl's breath hitched slightly. "I'm… not…"
"Oh, you are," she interrupted softly, tilting her head, eyes luminous. "You are, because you can't ignore it. You know in your gut that leaving it untouched is the coward's choice. But admitting that… admitting that you're afraid… that's hard, isn't it?"
He swallowed, voice low. "…It's not about fear."
"Isn't it?" she asked, hovering close enough that the faint cold of her nanite-fingers brushed his cheek. "Isn't it about control? About proving that you can protect the past without altering it? How noble. How… predictable of you."
Karl shifted uncomfortably, feeling the truth in her words like ice against his skin.
"You're not destroying it, Karl," she whispered, leaning closer. "You're giving it life. You're translating it. You're making sure its story continues, instead of letting it fade into oblivion because of… pride. Or stubbornness. Or fear."
His jaw tightened. "And what if I refuse?"
She tilted her head, smile playful, teasing. "Then it fails. And somehow, in your mind, you'll always feel that nagging… that tiny, persistent thought: I could have saved it… But you didn't."
Karl's shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him in slow, reluctant waves.
Her voice softened again, almost intimate, her hand ghosting along his cheek to soothe the sting of where she had slapped him earlier. "I'm not asking you to erase history. I'm asking you to protect it. Preserve it. Honor it. Respect it."
She gave a faint, teasing laugh, the kind that made it impossible to stay angry at her. "And I promise, if you do this… you'll be the hero in every record. Even in your own story."
He looked back at the Pampanito, eyes tracing its hull with reluctant reverence. "…Fine. I'll do it. No corners. No shortcuts."
Her cyan glow brightened slightly. "Of course. I wouldn't accept anything less."
He exhaled, finally conceding. "…This feels like betrayal."
"Not betrayal," she murmured softly, brushing his cheek again, lingering just long enough to leave the faintest cold trace of nanites. "It's… perspective. And history… is perspective, Karl. Yours. And mine. Together."
He turned to her, finally meeting her eyes, and saw the teasing glint, the softness, the authority—all mixed into one. "…You're impossible."
"I know," she said, drifting slightly back, smile gentle. "But you needed this, didn't you?"
He exhaled, looking back at the submarine, resigned. "…Yes. I guess I did."
Her glow softened, relief flickering through her projection.
"Thank you," she said, sincere.
He glanced at her. "You're helping me put it back together."
"Of course," she said without hesitation. "I'll make sure it comes back stronger."
He exhaled. "…Tokyo better be worth it."
Agnes's lips curved into a small, teasing smile.Her glow softened further, warm now, reassuring. "Oh it will be. Now let's begin. You and me… we're going to rebuild a legend."