Luzon had gone missing. Again.

Or, as Iowa was swiftly learning meant, Luzon had gone to visit Isabella and didn't bother to tell anyone. Again. And that nobody bothered to start looking in the repair baths. Again.

She wasn't exactly sure why anyone would call it missing at this point, as Luzon spent most of her time down there, anyway. The only time they could get Luzon to leave was to eat, and even that appeared to be with considerable reluctance. She'd even sleep there, as much as that concerned Vulcan. Iowa just wondered how Luzon had been able to procure a sleeping bag out of thin air. She didn't think there was any on the Vestal herself, and she doubted Luzon had access to one before.

Still, Isabella was not going to be awake for at least a full day, if not longer. Both from a mixture of the repair bath trying to keep her unconscious due to the pain she'd been in otherwise, and the medicine.

Iowa hoped that once Isabella was properly awake, they would be able to convince Luzon to socialize with the other shipgirls. She also hoped that Isabella wasn't in worse shape than Luzon was. Which was a concern with considerable merit, given the events she went through. Even more so, if her eyes were deceiving her.

She'd been down to visit enough times herself, when South Dakota wasn't present, to notice the numerous cuts and stabs that lined the cruiser's shoulders weren't, well, healing. Iowa scowled. That wasn't wholly correct.

They were healing. Just not correctly. Vulcan suspected they were becoming scars. Shipgirl's having scars was incredibly rare. Scharnhorst was the only one that Iowa could remember off the top of her head that had scars. Nobody was sure why, either. But battle damage?

That healed. That always healed. And for it not to?

Iowa didn't need Vulcan to know that was probably not a good sign. It couldn't be much else.

She let out a sigh, entering the healing bath's through the locker, face covered with steam. Most of the time, when Iowa was here, the room was full of noise. Be it simple talking or just sounds of relaxation. However, the past few times, it had been eir quiet. Sure, several Japanese ships like relaxing in the baths, as they were, for all intents and purposes, hot springs. But that hadn't been the case.

Which was worse, Iowa wasn't quite sure. Heavy, oppressive silence? Or the full-on sobbing.

Wait? Sobbing?

Iowa broke out into a near run, sprinting towards the source, which she knew from memory was the repair bath that Isabella resided in.

Please let everything be okay, please let everything be okay. Already, her fairy's had maned the radio, sending for Vulcan to arrive, immediately! If for no other purpose than to prevent whatever was going on from getting worse. But what could be going wrong! The repair baths were set up to provide alerts in case of an emergency!

Steam still clouded her vision as the crying got louder and louder.

But it wasn't just one voice. There were two?

By the time Iowa had gotten close enough to see, the sight before her was perplexing. Luzon's arms were wrapped around the light cruiser.

And Isabella was hugging Luzon back, rocking gently back and forth.

But Isabella wasn't supposed to be awake yet. Which either meant Vulcan did the math wrong, or something else was afoot. Which was worse, Iowa wasn't sure. But the timer said she still had more than a day left in the bath, as the seconds slowly ticked by.

The splashing took Iowa off guard, as Isabella tried rising out of the water. Her stance was odd, compensating for her missing leg by grabbing hold of one of the railings at the edge of the pool. Made even more awkward by the cruiser, who was still holding onto Luzon, position the bulk of her between smallest ship and Iowa herself.

"Where am I, and who are you?"

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"Where am I, and who are you?" My voice felt raw in my throat. The women, no shipgirl, before me, was truly massive. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and an outfit that made absolutely no reasonable sense. She was an American ship of some description if the leggings were anything to go by.

"My name is Iowa. You are currently on the USS Vestal, en route to Sasebo," the now identified Iowa said. My eyes squinted, trying to make out as much of her hull as possible. She did have three triple turrets.

Which was a common design shared by many different American ships, ranging from cruisers to battleships, so I couldn't identify her based on that information.

Was she lying? My head throbbed. I couldn't tell on that front, either.

But Luzon was safe. She was alive, and that had to account for something.

"Is she?" I didn't get to finish as I felt Luzon's head nod into my shoulder, keeping one eye on the battleship and the other on Luzon herself.

"Have they been treating you well?" there was a pause, then another nod. Good. If they hadn't been. Then. Well, I didn't want to think about what I'd do.

That's when it hit me. Pain, everywhere. I nearly sagged, as what felt like hundreds of knives plunged into my skin. Because I had been STABBED.

Each breath was a short gasp, air trying to rush into my lungs.

"Isabella, sit back down! You aren't fully repaired yet!" I heard Iowa shout over the building pressure in my ears. Luzon's voice joined in, also begging me to sit down. No, I wanted, needed to, no.

Slowly, I sunk back down, water easing the pain. Trying to posture was stupid. Beyond stupid.

Luzon snuggled in closer to my side, and I only just noticed her new clothes. Of course, they weren't going to let her keep wearing rags.

"You've been through a lot. Just rest up, okay?" Iowa said as I breathed deeply, trying to fix my shaky breath. "Vulcan will be here in a few moments."

Vulcan? Who was Vulcan? Based on the name, it was pretty clear they weren't a human. Unless they had the misfortune of being born of volcanology or roman obsessed parents, that wasn't a normal name. So they likely were a shipgirl of some description. But I didn't have the foggiest as to their class.

Probably a repair or supply ship of some description, if I had to make an educated guess. Vulcan didn't sound like an Aircraft Carrier name, nor did it fit the naming scheme of Destroyers, Battleships, or Cruisers. Then again neither was mine, to my knowledge.

"Luzon let's see if we can get you dried up, okay," Iowa offered out her hand. I watched Luzon pause for a moment, before her grip on me tightened up, shaking her head.

"If she wants to stay, she can stay," I offered. It was no big deal. Even if Luzon stayed quiet, her company would be greatly appreciated. And it was fairly clear she didn't want to go, either.

"Are you sure?" Iowa's eyebrow's furrowed. "You do need rest right now."

My eyes narrowed.

"If she wants to stay, she can stay," my hand already moving towards the railing. If I needed to stand up again, I would.

"Okay, okay. I'm just making sure," thankfully, Iowa understood. Because unless Luzon wanted to leave, I wasn't letting her out of my sight.

"Iowa, I got your message, what's going on?" A loud voice made its way through the fog. Red hair poked out from around what could have only been some type of welder's mask, complete with overalls covered in numerous dark stains, with a redshirt underneath.

Yep, definitely some type of repair ship. She flipped up the mask, allowing me to get more of a look at her tanned face.

"Seriously, Iowa, you made it sound like this was an emergency that required my immediate attention," the person I assumed was Vulcan paused, finally noticing me. "Oh, you're awake."

She paused for a moment, staring at me as if I'd grown a second head.

"You're awake!"

"Ow," I groaned, almost letting out a hiss of pain. I didn't need anyone shouting right now. My brain already felt like it was hammering against the insides of my skull. There is no reason to make it any worse.

"Apologies," she frowned as if lost in thought. "It's just that you weren't supposed to wake up until tomorrow, at the earliest."

Wait, until tomorrow? At the earliest? Why? How much longer did I have?

Oh. More than forty-eight hours. That was a considerable length of time to be stuck in a single place. Well, I certainly would have enjoyed the additional sleep time in that case. Hopefully, I could get some more time sleeping, because even with Luzon to keep me company, this would get boring.

"Well, given that you're currently awake, I'd like to ask you a few questions," Vulcan crossed her fingers. "You can feel free to ask some in return."

I paused. That seemed reasonable enough. Doctors did ask questions about their patient's physical health. It was just. My brain throbbed once again. There were just some things I don't think I could answer.

"That works, I suppose," my gaze shifted over to Luzon who had started to remove her face from my side. Honestly, it wouldn't surprise me if she left an imprint of her face there.

"How are you feeling? Are you in any pain or discomfort?" Okay, there were easy questions. "Are there any concerns you might have?"

"Well," I paused for a moment, thinking on how best to put things. "I have a headache. Aches just about everywhere, actually, and it gets worse when I stand up."

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I watched as Vulcan jotted down a few notes, before sending a pointed look at Iowa. Iowa shrugged as if saying something along the lines of 'what did you expect me to do'.

"What about concerns?" I would have raised my stump of a leg out of the water. I had started to do so, in fact. But Luzon probably wouldn't take that very well.

"My leg. Is this magic water going to fix that too, or?" I paused. That wasn't a line of thought I wanted to entertain.

"The repair bath will restore your leg. Once that timer hits zero, you'll be back to normal. Physically, anyway," Vulcan let out a sigh, though I had to suppress a scoff. Normal? No, I was most certainly not going back to normal. The fact I was in this body was proof enough of that alone.

"Mentally?" Vulcan's shaking head drew my attention away from my thoughts. "Quite frankly, I won't beat around the bush. The fact you're even talking right now is borderline miraculous. And I'm not just saying that because you should still be asleep right now."

"Why?" I paused, as another flash of pain ran through my skull.

"Sorry, but on that particular front, the Admiral wants us to wait until we arrive at Sasebo," I narrowed my eyes at the repair ship, though her glare was more than enough to match my own. It probably didn't help matters that my mother was a nurse. I was weak to that type of glare. But I still wanted answers. Because trying to remember only made my headache worse.

"Okay, fine. Do you know how long it'll take until we arrive at Sasebo?" I let out a huff, trying to convey that I wasn't entirely happy.

"It'll take a few days. Our return trip will end up being a bit longer," Vulcan stated. "Now, do you have any other questions?"

Yeah, I did. Sure, I couldn't ask the biggest one, but I had a few others.

"Do you have any reading material?" I looked down at Luzon. "Like children's books or something like that? And maybe some towels?"

"I'll see what I can do, though I won't be able to make any promises on those children's books," Iowa nodded, seeming to head towards the door. That was understandable. I doubted there would be any children's books aboard, but it wouldn't hurt to have the option.

"If you need to get ahold of me or anyone else, plus hit the red button on the railing behind you," Vulcan followed suit. "I'll be here as soon as I can."

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Memory loss or memory suppression. Honestly, she was leaning towards the latter option. She'd noticed the brief twitch of pain that went across Isabella's face.

Of course, she hadn't been kidding that Isabella being able to hold a conversation was a miracle all on its own. Even with Luzon's presence, Vulcan had expected a panic attack. But she seemed calm. Standoffish, sure. But that honestly would be expected. Even a more aggressive posture wouldn't be something she blamed Isabella for. Given that she'd waken up in an unknown location, fight or flight would be the two options available to her.

And most shipgirls tended to choose fight over flight.

Though there was an oddity. Not quite a problem, but just something strange. Beyond the scarring, which, as a matter of its concern. Perhaps a bit abnormal that Isabella hadn't noticed them yet.

What had really drawn her attention was the Cruiser's request. Reading material wasn't exactly an uncommon request among longer stays. So much so that they kept a water-proof stockpile on hand. But children's books?

What Isabella sought to do with them was fairly obvious. What wasn't was how she even knew they existed. Sure, many shipgirls could call from the experience of their crew. She'd done so herself when she'd been first summoned, and she was far from the only one. But with unbuilt ships?

Their relationship with their crew was poorly understood, to put it mildly. Mostly because they never actually had one. Sure, they had fairy's, just like every other shipgirl. Vulcan knew she was going to have to look over reports on the matter. She'd seen something somewhere about how it was hypothesized that for unbuilt ships, their fairies were blank slates, much like the vessel they crewed. Another was that they pulled on a possible, hypothetical crew that may have served on the ship.

Which was another mystery on the rapidly growing pile. How did she end up in the middle of the ocean? Why did she wait so long to sound a distress signal? How long at she been out there for? Hell, she'd been able to make a Warhammer reference! How did she know about that if she was summoned in the middle of the ocean?

That last one shouldn't get her as worked up as it was. But its impossibility was aggravating. It made absolutely no sense.

Vulcan let out a sigh, forcing down the frustration until she could release it safely later.

Regardless, there were even more issues at hand. Seattle. That was an issue Vulcan had no problem leaving to Admiral Richardson. She had no clue how Seattle would react to having a younger sister. Likely overjoyed, as many likely would.

Up until it was revealed that her sister had been trapped behind enemy lines for an unknown amount of time, before being tortured. Vulcan knew Seattle had her quirks, and generally was quite happy-go-lucky.

Seattle certainly was more stable than some other unbuilt ships. But there was no way being told that piece of information would go over well. But there were no two ways around it. Seattle was going to need to be told about what had happened. If they were taking Isabella to a different base, then maybe they'd have a bit more time to prepare on that front.

But they were not. Seattle would need to be told before they made landfall.

Of course, that was going to be Admiral Richardson's problem. Not that trying to tell Isabella that she had an older sister would be probably any less troublesome. In all honesty, that would be an easier task. If only as some type of silver lining.

Still, Vulcan would rather they wait until Isabella was physically healed on that front.

She'd certainly be keeping an eye on Isabella, and Luzon as well. Now Vulcan hoped Iowa had some luck.

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Twist, and twist, and twist, darn it! Lost the pattern again! Slowly, I let my trembling fingers slip back into the healing bath once again. Doing a braid seemed to be beyond my abilities. Which was not a surprise.

"You aren't particularly good at this," Luzon stuck out her tongue, splashing lightly as she bent her head back.

"To be fair, I've never done something like this before," I stuck out my tongue as well. I'd get better with practice, once my fingers started cooperating with me. And I would probably get a lot of practice too unless Luzon wanted to cut her hair down to something more manageable.

Which, to be fair wasn't going to be until we reached Japan. At the least. Which meant one way or another, I was going to have to figure out how to do braids. They seemed like an efficient way to manage excessive hair, right?

"Your hair is too short for that," Luzon hummed, before returning to kicking the water. Yeah, shoulder-length was probably a bit too short for such a thing. Even if it was, I probably still wouldn't go for anything fancy. Of course, I probably wouldn't let it get much longer anyway.

But that probably wasn't as important. What was? I suppressed a sigh, letting it die in my throat. Honestly, there was no easy way to have this conversation. There probably never would be an easy way to have such a conversation. However, that didn't change the necessity of having it.

"How are you holding up?" I asked, and the temperature in the room felt like it plummeted. Luzon's lazy kicks came to a stop, as she turned to face me. Her eyes began to water.

Before she buried her head into my chest, knocking the air out of my lungs.

"You left me. Again!" Luzon cried, small body wracked with shakes. "Even after you promised you wouldn't, you did." I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close as she continued to sob.

"I," words began to come from my mouth, but Luzon cut me off.

"Everyone told me you did it to protect me. Everyone told me you did it to keep me safe," Luzon quaked, releasing a wave of new tears. "Why are you so willing to get hurt for me?"

"Luzon, you've gone through enough. You've gone through more than enough," I paused for a moment.

"But you got hurt. You got captured! You could have gotten killed," Luzon's voice faded into a whisper. "And then I would have been all alone again." Her arms squeezed me with even more intensity.

"It wasn't going to kill me," I felt Luzon's face look upward. "It could have. God knows it easily had dozens of chances to kill me. But it was never going to."

Each scar, each twist of the knife, each cut, began to flare with pain.

"And I knew that," my eyes shifted away, breaking contact with Luzon's own. Her grip on me only increased, however. "I figured it wouldn't matter. You'd be safe, out of harm's way."

"But, you got hurt! You got hurt worse than I did!" I paused, gaze shifting back to Luzon, her eyes full of tears. "I can see it! Whenever you try to think about it! Even just now!"

"You shouldn't get hurt for me. Not like that," Luzon sniffled, before burying her head into my chest once more.

When Iowa finally returned, she found us locked in our embrace.