"Say everything on your mind. Don't ever hesitate to tell someone the things you love that are in your heart. Because for us fleet girls, tomorrow is a luxury, but never a guarantee." – Akagi

When I opened my eyes, I stood on a sea of glass stretching as far as I could see. Purgatory was weird. I found myself sailing like an ice skater in the middle of a calm ocean. It felt right, as if I had done it all my life. But did I remember dying? There was some sort of accident on the highway as I drove to work, so I must have been killed—unless this was a dream.

I could smell the ocean air and feel its warm breeze caressing my face. It was wonderful. There was also joy in sailing, a feeling of freedom I didn't realize I was missing. The shackles of my old life fell away as I smiled and closed my eyes. But soon, I couldn't ignore the other oddities beyond finding myself standing on top of the ocean.

"Instead, perhaps this is Yomi-no-Kuni," I sighed, my mood shifting to confusion, looking down at my attire.

When I woke up this morning, little did I know that I would find myself standing in the middle of the ocean wearing a traditional Japanese archery or Kyudo uniform. It included a black muneate, or protective chest piece, a white blouse, or keiko-gi, and a short red pants skirt, or Hakama. A beautiful yumi or bow was in my left hand, and a yugake or padded glove covered my right. Or that I knew the names of each piece without knowing a lick of Japanese.

According to one of those family DNA sites, I had about eight percent Japanese ancestry. No surprise, Mom loved explaining how great-grandpa Takeo, after trouble with the Imperial court, met and fell in love with great-grandma Jeanne in Paris around the 1900s. Still, I shouldn't know the language.

And I was pretty sure the Japanese underworld wasn't so wet.

Frowning, I ran my fingers over the arrows in my yebira, or quiver. For a moment, I saw a hangar full of Mitsubishi A6M Zeros, Aichi D3A dive-bombers, and Nakajima B5N torpedo bombers. I had no actual knowledge of military history. Still, somehow, I knew these were Imperial Japanese aircraft from World War Two.

Then, a tsunami of memories flooded my brain. I clenched and unclenched my fist while lowering and raising my aft elevator. The impossible seemed too real to ignore. As much as I tried to overlook the flight deck strapped to my arm and another on my waist, something else had been burned into my soul.

"My name is Akagi."

This made no sense. How could someone be both an aircraft carrier and a girl? This couldn't be real. Then, a sense of impending doom gripped my heart as new visions of American aircraft diving out of the sky filled with killing intent assaulted me.

Instincts took over, and I began to maneuver, trying to evade the phantom dive-bombers before finally coming to a complete stop. Rubbing my chest, I looked around in confusion. Where were the others? No carrier sailed alone. The sea should be filled with girls—ships—including a cheerful destroyer who loved to dance and others silently weeping as they lined up to shoot...

"Torpedoes," I whispered, rubbing my side. "Oh, poor Maikaze."

Then, memories of my sinking started to overwhelm me, and I began to panic. Who was I? Where was I? Where was everyone? How did I get here? What happened to my mom and dad? My sister, no, I didn't have a sister, but I did.

"Amagi," I cried softly, remembering a girl who used to laugh with me as we were being built in Kure Naval Arsenal. Then, that horrible earthquake where she was lost to me. But there was also Kaga, my friend and stoic companion of Carrier Division One, who I knew underneath that icy cold exterior was a wonderfully warm person.

An unnatural alien cold clenched my heart. Eerie voices filled my ears, telling me to surrender to the darkness. I knew that feeling. Slipping into the void would be easy, just to sit back and wallow in pain and anger. However, panic attacks were nothing new, and that strangely familiar feeling anchored me to this world. I took a deep, cleansing breath, forcefully pushing away whatever that was.

Breaking down and freaking out wasn't going to help, no matter if I was the ghost of the Japanese carrier Akagi or a Sales Analyst. Perhaps my human life wasn't all sunshine and unicorns, but I wouldn't succumb to whatever that was. Frankly, it was pissing me off. 

Momentarily setting aside my carrier/human dysphoria, I noticed that my conflicted feelings seemed to churn up the waters as dark clouds drifted off in the distance. Sailing into the sudden squall, I hummed a familiar song. Still, I changed the lyrics to rough seas as they never bothered me anyway. It felt both refreshing and cleansing. Something told me that being here might be a second chance.

But for the Japanese carrier Akagi or myself, I didn't know. I needed to keep moving forward. My last memory as a ship had me sailing in the middle of the Pacific. If that was the case, where to go? My fuel supply wasn't endless, but I had plenty, depending on the direction I wished to travel. I even had aviation fuel for my aircraft and, worst comes to worst, ammunition to defend myself. But thankfully, we weren't at war with anyone. At least, I hoped so.

Decisions, decisions. Let's assume my location was in the middle of the Central Pacific, near where the Japanese fleet had an awful day in the summer of '42. Traveling to Japan wouldn't be too much of an issue, but that country was not my home, no matter who I managed to turn myself into. Midway Island, if it existed, would only be about forty to fifty nautical miles south-ish. But it's a barren rock. San Francisco was too far, so perhaps Hawaii would be a better choice.

Looking at my charts, we sat roughly 1,200 nautical miles to the northwest, so theoretically, only a little over two days' sailing time at a comfortable speed that wouldn't strain my engines. Or I could be totally wrong and run into the Aleutian Islands or the Australian coast. I wouldn't be terribly upset if I landed on a Mexican beach somewhere.

The irony was not lost on me wanting to sail into Pearl Harbor. However, I imagine I now looked more like a Japanese woman than an aircraft carrier—at least, I thought I did; hard to tell without a mirror. Slipping onto a beach and walking around Honolulu would be fine, too. I could do some shopping, but oh right, no money. Maybe find a phone and call my parents? How do I even explain this to them?

Hi Mom, it's me. Sorry, I disappeared on the way to work. I'm in Hawaii. Yeah, weird, I know. Can you buy me a ticket home? Oh, by the way, it seems your daughter has turned into a Japanese aircraft carrier.

Dad was a bit of a miser, but I could probably convince him to lend me enough money to buy a ticket home. Although I have always been anxious about the numbers on my bathroom scale, exceeding the weight allowance of an aircraft was never a worry. Likely, they wouldn't allow me to fly without a driver's license or any other type of ID. Can you imagine the fit I would give the TSA and their metal detectors? Or how about those body scanners? Would it show a girl or a ship?

I had no plans to shoot my fellow countrymen, but I also had no desire to be sunk again. I wanted to see if I could get someone on the radio, but it would only end in tears if it was still 1942 or even a few years later. In the meantime, I had my radio officer monitor any traffic and maybe even get a fix on a Hawaiian radio station.

Oh yeah, that tsunami of memories made me realize that besides navigation charts, I had a crew, lots of them, too. I could sense them walking around, doing whatever sailors do on a warship. It made sense; a ship cannot function without them, although there were towns with fewer people than I held inside my hull. But they were adorable, little fairy-like girls in uniforms speaking only one word, "Hey," which somehow I understood.

Stolen novel; please report.

While deciding upon my destination, I also had a conversation with the Captain but realized as we spoke that this wasn't Aoki Takijirō, my Commander during Midway. I still have memories of the crew not allowing him to join me in death, but somehow, he still managed to leave a small part of himself on the bridge. They all did. Although the crew probably have all moved on, their memories are part of who I am now.

Darkness wrapped around my shoulders when I finally changed course toward the Hawaiian Islands. Between talking to the Captain and other officers, I had been sailing in figure eights for most of the day. Why? It gave me a little practice at ship handling. I remember doing that, but I needed those few hours to find what I could and could not do since I was more than just a ship. The only thing I hadn't done was launch some aircraft off my deck, but that could wait until morning.

Now, traveling the seas on a dark night, you would think would be peaceful, but it's not without its problems. No, I wasn't afraid of sharks or anything like that. I'm a warship, for goodness' sake, but other things hunted the deep. So, it shouldn't surprise anyone that the thought of submarines trying to get a peek up my skirt made me just a little uncomfortable.

Would a US sub shoot a spread of torpedoes at me without saying hello? I had no idea but didn't want to make it easy for them, so I started to zig and zag a little. I'm unsure if it helps, but it made me feel better. However, there was a silver lining to sailing at night. The stars confirmed my location, and after several course corrections, I continued toward the Hawaiian islands.

My first night passed without incident as I sailed under a moonless sky. Thoughts of my past filled me with sadness as I thought of those I had lost, both crew and ships. Did I sleep? No, I'm not even sure I need it anymore. This was a good thing; being introspective finally allowed me to shake off the remains of that icky cold feeling. As darkness lifted, I realized my choice of destination ended up being good; sometime during the night, an angry storm snuck up on me from the west. But unlike that small squall late yesterday, this one felt unnatural. 

The next day at least began bright and clear. If nothing changes, I will be sailing into Honolulu Harbor sometime tomorrow. And as much as I tried not to worry about it, I needed a plan once I arrived. If I could find a quiet spot, I could make my way to a small harbor and use the ship's boats to drop off a few scouts and see what's up with the world.

Hawaii was full of Japanese Americans and tourists, so I wouldn't stand out—probably. Who knows what my appearance looks like now? Maybe a shower and a change of clothes, although finding a deserted tropical beach sounded appealing. Blending in shouldn't be an issue if I didn't look like I walked out of some comic book.

Also, there was the issue of food. I don't remember eating much as a warship, but the human part demanded calories since it was doubtful I could just stroll down into the galley for some fresh fruit. It was also unlikely to find a place with some cooked meals in the middle of the Pacific.

But for now, launching some recon aircraft would help calm my nerves and provide me with some fun.

"Ippan Shihanki," I commanded aloud, and the whole ship came to life as I started to turn into the wind.

My flight crew had already armed and fueled my combat air patrol earlier, so I wasted no time setting my feet. I pulled an arrow out of my quiver and notched it. Taking a few deep breaths, I closed my eyes and took aim. The release felt so natural that it made me smile. With a whoosh, the aircraft launched into the air, followed by a second and a third. While most modern ships would use a catapult to launch their floatplanes, my bow worked just as well. Spotting aircraft would make life easier by ensuring I didn't run into any atolls.

While I launched another flight of Zeros, fairies on my bridge and deck began scanning the waves. Although we didn't stay at General Quarters long, I planned to maintain a CAP throughout the day. My pilots weren't the only ones I put to work; this wasn't a pleasure cruise, no siree.

As some of my Zeros hunted the sky and others for periscopes, I shook the rust off the crew that had accumulated since 1942. We conducted all sorts of drills, especially damage control procedures. Meanwhile, the gunnery officers checked and double-checked their guns. By the afternoon, the fighter CAP moved further out while the anti-aircraft gunners filled the sky with 20mm, 12cm, and 25mm rounds. It was then time for the torpedo and dive bomber crews to practice take-offs and landings.

All in all, a very productive day.

"Hey, hey," the air boss shouted, but I had already spotted the Zero circling to come in for a landing. It was the last of those I had sent out to scout. While I might have lacked Sōryū reconnaissance aircraft, my fighters were more than capable with their long-range capabilities. Impressively, instead of using radio communication—though that worked too—I could see what the fairy pilots saw through their eyes if I concentrated.

I sent them in three directions. The first headed towards the storm, which only remained long enough for me to take a quick look before I ordered it back to base. The second group flew over Midway, still a rock but not the heavily fortified one from my war memories. So, it didn't look like I went back in time; it appeared abandoned, with no signs of life. It also felt off, like my choice of sailing west toward Japan; I knew passing over the island was a good thing.

Finally, two Zeros searched the leeward Hawaiian Islands but found very little. More rocks, as expected; nothing lived out there, but strangely, there were no boats—pleasure, fishing, or otherwise. Kauai and the other larger islands would be in range tomorrow. I could easily have a mimosa on a beach by lunchtime if I increased my speed a little.

The radio was of no help. Still no music, just creepy static and, occasionally, voices calling out—some in pain, others trying to talk to me. Yeah, that's a hard no. Spooky radio stuff never turns out well, but I hesitated to turn it off entirely.

When the sun rose on the second day, I was close to panicking again between the weird radio signals and the lack of signs of humanity. Maybe this was indeed the afterlife. The storm, which seemed to follow me throughout the night, didn't help. Thankfully for my sanity, my scouts came to the rescue a few hours later. A cheerful little fairy voice announced over the radio, confirming that humans were on Kauai. Immediately, I began to look at the island through their eyes.

Coming in from the northwest, the view was primarily of massive volcanic cliffs covered in green. Heading north around the island, the pilot found a highway. Although it was still a little dark, sure enough, far below were homes. I also noticed the numerous cars on the road, all traveling east in a hurry. What was happening? Not wanting to cause panic by flying lower, I recalled the Zero, increased my speed, and headed there myself.

The island of Kauai was a beautiful place. Tropical, green—somewhere I would want to spend a long vacation on the beach enjoying the sun. All along the coast were cute little houses; I imagine quite a few could be rented for a summer. The sandy beach was also inviting, but I didn't want to get my tabi wet.

Okay, so sue me; damp and sandy socks I didn't need. Instead, I continued to hug the coast while coming up with a plan to unsummon my flight deck and the rest of my rigging. My thirty-seven thousand tons would definitely crack pavement otherwise. In theory, I just needed to become more girl than ship. Well, according to my fairies, anyway.

"Where did everyone go?" I murmured to myself; even the cars seemed to have vanished.

"Hey, hey, hey," a fairy on my shoulder replied.

"Yes, they could have been evacuated because of the storm. Strange though. Anyway, I'm going to head toward that marina."

The slips were pretty empty, so the idea that everyone evacuated had merit. I wouldn't want to be on the island when that angry storm rolled in.

"Hey, hey," a fairy pointed to port at a few ladders, but I wasn't sure I could pull myself up.

"Oh nice, a boat slipway. That will work."

Reducing speed, I began to creep along, keeping my wake down to avoid swamping the docks before coming to a complete stop. Unsummoning my rigging in a swirl of light, I successfully stepped onto the concrete. The Akagi has landed.

"Hey, hey."

"Yes, yes, very funny. So I am a magical ship girl, too."

My bridge was full of comedians.

Thank goodness I didn't buckle the ground, so I continued walking through the marina and toward the street beyond. Everything around me was quiet; from what I could tell, the evacuation must have been recent. What was strange, though, was that nothing was boarded up. I had memories of watching the news, which showed homeowners covering windows with wood to protect them from the high winds of hurricanes.

But those thoughts vanished like smoke when I finally saw my reflection in the window of a coffee shop: no dysphoria, no discomfort, or strangeness. I was looking at myself—IJN Akagi, the woman, not the ship. This was me, as I have always been. Maybe a little less chesty than my old self, my hips were slightly bigger, and I had legs for days, but I was also a lot younger. Maybe in my early twenties. However, Akagi, my new self, was beautiful. It was eerie, almost supernatural beauty, as if this body had been created by the thought of the perfect Japanese woman.

Whether I'm a magical girl, ghost, or kami, I still need to see what's happening.