She hadn't thought she'd ever host anyone in her modest—cramped, really—apartment upstairs, of all things.
And of all people, it just had to be Essex.
It hadn't been Essex's idea.
No, it was hers—and a little bit of Jerry's coaxing.
The girl looked like a kicked puppy all throughout the night. Not that she wasn't having fun—it was obvious she was, especially when she finally managed to loosen up and let herself be guided by Atago's expert lead. But there was a lingering unease about her.
So, when everyone was about to disperse, she did the unthinkable.
"Can you let Essex stay over?" she asked, her voice quiet, in a corner where no one could hear them. It was an absurd request to ask, but she asked anyway. She felt responsible. Maybe.
Jerry glanced around, as if she'd just asked him to solve a complex equation, but his expression softened into understanding.
"...Well, Skipper...I guess I could let her stay for a night...but, it should be up to her, alright?"
Right. She forgot to ask. The slip was quickly rectified.
Mortified. Confused. Maybe even a bit flattered.
Those were just some of the emotions that flashed across Essex's face when she was asked.
"Is it alright...? I don't want to be a bother."
If that didn't remind her of her old self, that would have been a surprise. That only made her more determined.
"You won't be. Would I invite you if you were?"
Essex proved harder to persuade than she'd expected—which, she supposed, was only fair. She had been, too. But then, Jerry, in that unassuming way of his, spoke up.
"It's alright, Essex. I can spin an excuse. Better than making up neat, pretty things about Vietnam. Stay. Skipper asked you herself."
"Is...that an order, Captain?"
"No. A suggestion. A friendly one. Or a request, if you will. Your choice."
And with that, Essex folded. And whether she realized it or not, her posture was more relaxed when she gave her affirmation.
So that was that. She had a roommate for the night, and the rest of the patrons were filing out.
The ride up the creaky stairs was quiet, but not in an awkward way. It was more...contemplative. Only the distant sound of the city still awake for a brief while before it, too, went silent.
Not as cautious as a soldier landing on a hostile shore. That was a good sign. Just...curious, but, again, holding back from asking anything.
"It's okay to speak your mind."
She didn't really want to resort to stating the obvious, but she felt she had to.
"...It's cozy, ma'am."
"Just say my name, would you?" she gently chided. "And it is. Very. Even if the only things you can see from that window are power lines and rooftops. I can't complain."
Essex lingered by the window, her back to her.
"...better than the lodgings at Yokosuka or here, ma'am."
"My name."
"...Sorry. I'm still not used to...this."
"It's okay. I was like that too, once."
"You?" Essex turned to face her, her expression one of disbelief. "But...you seem so...settled. You have this place. A life."
"It's a work in progress," she admitted, pulling out a spare futon from the closet. The familiar scent of sun-dried cotton filled the small room. "But as the saying goes...'the day you think of it is your lucky day.'"
Seeing Essex tilting her head was...amusing, but also inspiring hope.
"That means don't wait for some perfect timing, just do it. I understand it now..."
"You did all that...by yourself?" Essex's eyes were wide, taking in the books she had bought, now no longer just Sōseki, the potted succulent on the windowsill she had coaxed into life, the worn wooden floorboards beneath their feet.
"No. And neither will you be." She gestured towards the futon. "Get some rest if you are tired. All the dancing must've taken it out of you. I can lend you some sleepwear if you'd like. Or maybe you'd rather talk some more."
"I would prefer to talk."
"Alright."
There was a small, wobbly table by the window, and they sat on opposite sides of it. The silence stretched for a moment, comfortable but expectant.
"Do you...miss it?" Essex finally asked, her voice barely a whisper. "The war? The sea?"
"No."
Easily, the answer came.
"I thought...maybe a part of you did," Essex pressed, her brow furrowed. "Because it was...us. What we were made for. My ship is still out there...serving, but I..."
"Was," she repeated, the word landing with finality. "No more, Essex. Your hull may still be out at sea, but we can't go back there—not without America breaking every convention they signed up for.
And that means I have to learn how to...not be that. I have no choice. Neither do you. But it's not a bad thing. This is your chance. Show Je—Captain Halsey and the rest that you can live in peace. For yourself. For the others."
"I...don't know if I can."
"You are capable. More capable than you give yourself credit for. You don't have to decide anything tonight. Just...let yourself consider it. That's all."
She saw the conflict in Essex's eyes, the war between ingrained duty and a nascent desire for something more.
"Have you ever thought about what you would do if you weren't a carrier?"
Essex shook her head slowly.
"Because you weren't allowed to. But tonight you are. So. Think."
Essex looked down at her hands, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the table's surface. "I...I don't know. I suppose I never thought I would have the luxury to think about it." She paused, then looked up, her eyes surprisingly clear. "You were very good out there. On the floor, I mean."
"I...can say the same about you."
"Really...?"
"Really. Once you let go."
A small, shy smile touched Essex's lips. "Saratoga...she's a force of nature. And Atago is very...persuasive. She said I had a good rhythm once I stopped trying to calculate the steps and just...felt the music."
"Maybe that's a good lesson to take with you."
Essex nodded, her gaze thoughtful.
"You don't have to find out now. Someone told me that before. But you need to take the first step. There was a warrior here who once said, Knowing one thing well will let you know ten thousand things. Maybe it applies to you, too. Don't try to see the whole path. Just the first step."
Essex didn't say anything for a long moment. She just looked at her, her expression a mixture of awe and something else she couldn't quite place.
"You will not be alone in this, that much I can promise you," she added, her tone firm. "You're not docked at some forgotten pier, Essex. You're here."
And maybe that was enough for now. Essex was looking out the window again, but this time she seemed to be seeing something beyond the power lines and rooftops. A horizon, perhaps.
***
Despite Essex staring at the ceiling for an uncomfortably long time after lying down, she eventually drifted off to sleep. A bit of a stir, no tossing, no turning. Steady, even breathing.
She found sleep elusive, for her part. The night's events replayed in her mind, a montage of laughter, music, and unexpected connections.
And now, this. It felt like something was shifting. A page being turned, quietly. There was still a war, a world beyond this small bar, beyond this small apartment. The future was a vast, uncharted sea. But tonight, there was this. A sleeping ship in her room. And the beginning of...something. She could feel it.
***
Essex was first to wake. She had folded the futon with military precision and was standing by the window, looking out at the awakening city. She looked more at ease, the hard lines of her shoulders softened by the morning light.
"You're up early."
Essex turned. "Habit, ma'—" She stopped herself, a faint blush on her cheeks.
"As long as you are not calling yourself 'a warship' anymore."
"I'll...try."
Essex wasn't fussy about tea or coffee or even what she wanted for breakfast, so she just made two bowls of rice, some miso soup, and grilled salmon. The usual for her. Essex ate slowly, methodically, but she ate everything. She didn't offer to help with the dishes. She just watched her, her observant, analytical gaze taking in the simple, domestic ritual.
"Do you want to take a walk around? I'm going outside," she offered. Essex, try as she might, couldn't hide that surprise.
Essex looked at her, then at the door, then back at her. She hesitated for a moment, then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
***
A city was waking up. The sky was cloudless blue. The air was warm, with a touch of humidity. And the sounds of a thousand lives starting their day were all around them. Housewives began their day sweeping their genkan, salarymen by chasing the next train, delivery boys by weaving through traffic on their bicycles. A tofu seller's cart bell chimed a familiar, tinny tune. Grim was flying overhead, occasionally perching on the poles.
One of the last holdouts of old Tokyo, she thought. She was glad for it. It was all so...normal. So alive.
Everyday sight for her, new for Essex. Just like walking in a kimono and a hakama.
Kids with randoseru passed them by, waving at her, and giggling at the sight of Essex, who was understandably baffled.
"If anyone looks at you funny, just bow and say 'ohayō gozaimasu.'"
Essex tried it once when an old woman stared at her a little too long. The woman's stern face broke into a wide, toothless grin. She bowed back and wished them a good morning. She looked like she had just defused a bomb.
"See, fortune comes to a smiling household, you know?"
Essex looked down at her hands, then at her feet, as if checking they were still attached.
"I...I've never done this before. Just...walked. With no destination."
"Actually, we do have one, and it's close by. Come on."
Essex followed her to the local park, where a crowd had gathered near the ginkgo tree, a portable radio on the bench. Elderly folks in tracksuits and monpe, some younger kids, Yamatani's mother, still wearing an apron, and even a salaryman who seemed in no hurry to get to work, his tie loosened.
"Um, what are we..."
"Radio taisō. Warmups, stretches, some jumping—no different than PTs."
"And um, we are allowed to join?"
"Allowed to." A very Essex-like question.
"In here, move in sync, and you'll belong," she said, stepping into the back row. "Or try to. Relax, this isn't hazing."
The cheery NHK music started. A calm, clear voice began to call out instructions.
"Ichi...ni...san...shi!"
She could see the hesitation in Essex's posture. But then she saw her take a deep breath, and she began to follow the movements.
Nobody was perfect. The grandpa missed a beat, a girl missed a step, and the salaryman nearly lost his balance. She herself had to stifle a laugh when her arm went left when everyone else's went right.
She risked a sideways glance. Essex was focused, but there was bewilderment, too. Yet she was doing it. Arms moving up and down, legs stretching, trying her best to match the rhythm. There was a moment, a brief, fleeting moment, when her movements were perfectly in sync with the rest.
Nobody would have clocked her for any manner of soldier if she weren't obviously a KANSEN—just an awkward friend of hers.
She saw the ghost of a smile on Essex's lips.
***
The music eventually ended, and the crowd dispersed with bottles of Yakult from the lady vendor who had appeared out of nowhere.
Essex stared at the drink like it was a new species of sea slug.
"It's good for you. Try it."
She did, albeit with great suspicion.
"...Sour..." And then she finished it in one go.
"It's a little something for a good morning's work, huh? Think of it as a reward. Besides, uncle Domon praises you. He's kind of a grump, so that should mean a lot."
And Essex nodded.
***
The rest of the walk was quieter. The park's morning crowd had thinned out, leaving only the rustle of leaves and the distant city hum. The sky was still a brilliant blue, the sun a warm weight on their shoulders.
The path home took them past a small temple squeezed between two tired apartment blocks. Not a planned visit, but since she thought of showing Essex around now that the girl was more comfortable, she decided to lead her there.
Its tiled roof still sagged a little, the paint still peeling around the wooden gate, and the brass bell hanging in the entryway still gleamed.
Smoke and cedar, stubborn scents that cling to the wood of temples. Fresh or old, they had a way of quieting the noise in one's head.
The ajari stepped out of the side door, wiping soot with that old cloth that seemed to be from the last century. The hem of his heavy grey robe was slightly darkened by ash.
"Ah? If it isn't okami-san from across the road..."
He looked over her shoulder, at Essex. His eyes, ever old and observant, lingered on her for a moment, but there was no surprise, no judgment.
"And you've brought a friend."
"A friend," she echoed. "She's...new to the neighborhood, Gendou-san. Essex. Once...the same as I."
The old priest smiled. A kind, gentle smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. A smile that hid mysteries as befitting of his calling. He bowed. A deep, formal bow, but also with a touch of informality.
Essex, to her credit, remembered her lesson. She bowed back, her movements a little stiff, but respectful.
"It is an honor, Gendou-san."
The little stumble over the honorifics seemed to delight him.
"Polite one, aren't you? Another soul looking for guidance? Or did okami-san pick you out and drag you in?"
"She's...just showing me around."
He laughed so hard a cat bolted from under a parked scooter, leaving Essex to visibly jump.
"That means she did drag you in," he said. "No matter, the gates are open. Come in."
"We didn't interrupt anything, did we?"
"Oh, no, no. Just finished with the goma. I must admit… I'm surprised you came today—not on the seventh day of the sixth month, nor on the twenty-seventh day of the tenth like last year."
The mention of the dates no longer made her flinch, but she felt a familiar pang, a ghost of a memory. Essex didn't visibly react to them either, only a slight narrowing of her eyes.
"It is a good day to visit, is it not?"
He nodded at that. A look of understanding passed between them. She didn't have to explain herself.
"Then come, the tea is hot."
The temple's main hall was small but immaculate. The wood gleamed with a soft, polished luster. The air was thick with the scent of incense and old wood. The fire pit for the goma ritual was still warm, a faint, acrid smell lingering in the air.
"Exams," he sighed, nodding at the fire pit. "Everyone wants their children to pass. So they buy their little sticks, write their earnest little wishes, and I burn them for O-Fudō-sama to read. The smoke goes up, the worry goes with it. In theory."
"…Does it work?" Essex asked.
"Sometimes," Gendou-san said. "Sometimes the kids pass because they studied. Sometimes the parents feel better because they burned something. Either way, it keeps me busy."
He poured them tea from a cast-iron kettle, the steam rising in ghostly tendrils. She accepted the cup with a bow. Essex did the same, her movements more fluid now.
Gendou-san rummaged in a box by the steps and pulled out a gomagi.
"Since you've come all this way, Essex-dono, you might as well get your money's worth. Here. Write something to throw into the fire. A wish. A worry. A fear. Whatever's weighing you down."
"Umm..."
There's that look again. That look of a lost animal looking at an open cage, but not daring to step out.
"I, I don't know what to write."
"Then don't," Gendou said easily. "Hold it for now. When you do, bring it back. Fire's not going anywhere. Neither is O-Fudō-sama."
And then she saw the glimmer of something. It was still faint. But Essex had it.
"Th-thank you. I...I will think of it."
The gomagi remained blank, but Essex held it in her hands like a treasure.
***
After tea, which was mostly enjoyed in silence, she prepared to leave. Essex may not have found all her answers today. That was too much to ask. But she found a place to ask. She could ask her questions. A place to try.
"Thank you for the tea, Gendou-san."
"Thank you for visiting. And for bringing your friend."
Essex bowed again, this time a little less stiffly.
"Thank you for your hospitality."
"It is my pleasure, Essex-dono. The path is open whenever you wish to walk it. Before you step out of this place, perhaps you would like to stop by the cherry tree near the gate? Maybe it could give you some inspiration."
If she was confused, Essex didn't show it. But she nodded anyway. She did not need to be told twice.
They walked past the bell, towards the gate. The tree was blooming, long after the season had ended. Its petals were a defiant, fragile pink against the blue above.
Essex reached out, her fingers hovering over a branch.
"Late, but still blooming," she said.
"My favorite kind," Gendou-san nodded. "Not worrying about its appointed season."
While Essex was distracted, she had a word with the priest. "Thank you, Gendou-san."
He just smiled, a knowing look in his old eyes, then gave her another gomagi and a brush he seemingly pulled out of nowhere. He didn't speak any more than she did.
It was a good thing he did, because she found herself writing something, too.
May this girl find her own path.
"One special order, express delivery," he murmured, bowing and turning around to the temple after receiving the stick. "O-Fudō-sama will be very pleased today."
***
The walk back was quiet. Essex held her gomagi, her knuckles white. She didn't look at it, just carried it as if it were a delicate, live thing.
"Do people really feel lighter after they burn them?" she asked, once they were back on the street.
"Some do," Enterprise said. "Some don't. But the smoke goes up either way."
Essex was quiet for a few steps.
"If I brought one," she said at last, "I'm not sure I'd know whether to write a wish… or an apology."
"Either works. He will burn them regardless."
"And...why the cherry tree?" the girl asked. "I never thought about cherry trees that much."
Perhaps she herself didn't quite get it, but...she did. It just made sense.
"It blooms late, but it wasn't a bad thing, was it? Still beautiful regardless, as long as it is willing to."
"So it's a metaphor."
"If you want it to be," she answered. "About you."
Essex looked at her, then at the stick in her hands, and then, for the first time that day, she smiled. A real, genuine smile that reached her eyes.
"So...I can just be?"
"You can just be," she confirmed. "No one can stop you. Not even you."
The sun was higher now. The morning had slipped away. The city was in full swing.
A tradesman bumped into her, muttering an apology without breaking stride. A boy on a bicycle swerved to avoid them, shouting a cheerful "sumimasen!" over his shoulder. The tofu seller's cart was long gone, replaced by the sizzle of yakitori from a street stall.
"Just be..."
"...at your own pace," she gently added.
"Even if...it takes years?"
"Even if it takes your whole life. It's yours, after all. But it will be worth it. And you are not alone."
Essex's hold on the gomagi grew slack, but she did not let go. There was a quiet reverence in the gesture.
"For not letting me alone...for all this..."
Essex paused. If only the girl could see the smile she was having. Shy, small, but real.
"Thank you...Miss Enterprise."
That was a good start, at least.