Ch 4 Chapter 4: Commanding the Vanguard
The ocean was quiet at first light, but Quinton knew better. Silence on the waves rarely meant peace. The Northern Vanguard, Suzu's fleet, had spread out for reconnaissance, and Yamato—his new self, his new body—cut through the water like a blade. The hum of engines, the metallic vibration through his hull, and the subtle echo of the sea's currents were all signals he had learned to read.
Quinton was no longer just a reactive fighter. He had spent days training with Suzu, coordinating with Kaito, Aoi, and Rin. He knew the basics: aircraft deployment, torpedo defense, cannon targeting. But today… today, he would lead.
"Alright, Yamato," he said internally, feeling the weight of responsibility. "Time to see if I can actually command a fleet."
A distant shimmer on the horizon caught his sensors. Multiple silhouettes. Not one, not two—but an entire rogue fleet moving in formation, black sails cutting through the morning sun. These were no ordinary enemies. The readings were erratic—energy signatures that didn't match any human or known shipgirl technology. Sirens.
Suzu appeared on his deck almost silently. "They've been spotted," she said. "You will lead the engagement today, Yamato."
Quinton froze. Lead? Me? I just survived my first battle, and now I'm supposed to command an entire fleet?
Suzu's gaze was calm, almost gentle. "I have seen your instincts. Trust them, and your crew will follow."
With a deep metallic shudder of engines, Yamato surged forward. The fleet fell into formation behind him: Kaito's destroyers flanking, Aoi's submarines scouting below, Rin coordinating aerial reconnaissance. Quinton felt the weight of leadership pressing down on him, but also the thrill of control.
The enemy fleet moved fast, torpedo planes launching in swarms. Quinton's instincts took over. Cannons swiveled, turrets rotated, anti-aircraft guns unleashed volleys in precise arcs. Explosions erupted across the waves, the shockwaves rattling his massive hull. His planes took flight, weaving through enemy fire, dropping bombs with pinpoint accuracy.
"Form up on my left flank!" Quinton commanded, his voice vibrating across the water. Somehow, it was heard—not as words, but as a mental signal, a command instinctively understood by the Northern Vanguard.
The fleet responded instantly. Kaito's destroyers maneuvered to intercept incoming torpedoes, Aoi's submarines launched surprise attacks from below, and Rin's reconnaissance planes relayed critical information about enemy weaknesses.
Quinton felt a surge of pride. I'm not alone. We're a fleet. Together, we can do this.
The battle intensified. The siren fleet was relentless, using unpredictable patterns, feints, and traps. One moment, a cruiser would charge head-on; the next, dozens of torpedo planes would streak from a different angle. But Yamato's coordination and raw firepower made a difference. He learned to anticipate, predicting enemy movements by subtle changes in wave patterns and energy readings.
At one point, an enemy cruiser attempted a ramming attack, aiming straight for Yamato's hull. Quinton tilted, engines roaring, water spraying like a tempest. With a thunderous volley of cannons, the enemy was obliterated before impact. The waves calmed for a brief moment, as if acknowledging his skill.
"Yamato, you're adapting fast," Suzu's voice rang across the fleet. "But remember—power alone will not win this war. Strategy and foresight are your greatest weapons."
Quinton nodded, his mind racing. He recalled a maneuver from a game he had played as a child, one where he could trap an enemy fleet between two converging forces. Using that idea, he adjusted his fleet's formation. Kaito's destroyers lured the sirens toward a narrow channel, while Yamato's massive guns and Rin's bombers awaited on either side.
It worked. The rogue fleet was caught off-guard, funneled into a deadly corridor. Explosions erupted like fireworks across the waves. Yamato's coordination of firepower and fleet movement was flawless, and slowly, piece by piece, the enemy was dismantled.
Hours passed, the sun rising higher, and the last of the rogue ships sank beneath the waves. Silence returned once more, but this time it was a silence of triumph. Yamato floated amidst the calm, his massive hull glinting in the sunlight, battered but unbroken.
The fleet gathered around him. Suzu's eyes held respect. Kaito smirked, a rare gesture of approval. Aoi surfaced beside him, a silent nod of acknowledgment. Rin's voice crackled across the decks, reporting minor damages and confirming all systems were operational.
"You led us well," Suzu said softly. "Your instincts are strong, but today you proved something greater—you can command. You can make others fight beside you, not just react to the chaos."
Quinton allowed himself a small sense of pride. He wasn't just a battleship anymore. He was a leader. The ocean was vast, the threats countless, but he had begun to carve his place within it.
As the fleet sailed toward a safe harbor, Quinton thought about what lay ahead. Other factions, mysterious sirens, and ancient warships rumored to still roam the deep. The world was far bigger than he could have imagined.
Yet, in the back of his mind, one thought remained constant:
Truck-kun didn't just end my life. He gave me a second chance. And this time… I won't just survive. I'll rule the waves.
The sun dipped low, painting the horizon in shades of fire and gold. Yamato led the Northern Vanguard into the unknown, engines humming with purpose. Each wave beneath his hull was a challenge, each distant shadow a potential enemy. But Quinton Gounden—reborn as the ultimate battleship—was ready.
The legend of Yamato had truly begun.