Move 2: Bishop and Rook

THE YOUNG AIR CONTROL OFFICER took in the sights of the pre-dawn sky as he made his way to the Asuka II’s top deck. His frazzled hair, youthful face, loosely-worn flight suit and loud-colored undershirt with a Shonen Knife print belied the fact that he was, in fact, in command of an airborne command and control platform attached to the most advanced ship in the navy. Every morning without fail, Lieutenant Junior Grade Fukube Ichinose would come up to the top deck before the rouse to catch a glimpse of the first rays peek from beyond the horizon, a habit of his since he was a kid back in Ibaraki. Crazy as it might appear, doing this made him feel at ease. There must have been something in seeing the first rays of sun every morning that stirs the heart. He stretched, taking in the air while doing so. For a moment, everything seemed peaceful.

“I seriously do not get why you always do this in the morning,” a snarky voice said from behind him.

Ichinose ran a hand over his short hair before turning to face his ‘assailant’, a smile of pure amusement written on his face. “My, my, aren’t we grumpy this morning.” His grin widening, he added, “That time of the month again, I take it?”

Lieutenant Junior Grade Erika Takamiya wore an unmarked version of the standard witch flight jacket, with the skivvies to match. A white beret hung from her right passant. Her deep purple, shoulder-length hair was held in place by a headband with a mint-colored ribbon on the right. Her hazel eyes still showed signs of sleep. She held a styrofoam cup filled with coffee in her left hand. She laughed the last comment off as she strode towards Ichinose. “Since when did you learn to be counter-snarky?” Crossing her arms, Takamiya added, “I don’t remember the Flight Officer Course having a subject on that.”

“Hey, I try to rein it in, you know,” Ichinose replied. “But you can’t help getting snarky when you’re handling a rowdy crew and ‘unrestrained’ witches at the same time.” He briefly glanced to his E-2 Hawkeye, parked not too far away on the starboard side of the Asuka II, before turning back to the witch. “Anyway, what brings the air wing vice-commander up top so early in the morning? This isn’t like you at all. Don’t tell me I was right--”

“Put a sock in it, Fukube,” Takamiya interrupted. “That joke isn’t funny.” She took a sip of coffee from her styrofoam cup before continuing. “I… I just have some things on my mind, you see.” She regarded her companion—Ichinose had his flight suit unzipped as usual, the upper part hanging loosely at the waist. An old habit from their training days at Hakodate that he can’t kill, Takamiya thought.

Ichinose stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You ALWAYS have things on your mind.” Takamiya has always been the overthinking type; ever since Hakodate, she’s taken it upon herself to worry about other people’s well-being. She took the whole “you’re a senior officer, these people’s lives are in your hands” talk from their former commanding officer a little too much to heart.

The dark-haired witch stared into her cup for a moment, as if contemplating what to say. A moment later, she exclaimed, “I guess I’m just worried about how the war’s progressing and all.” She paused. “Do you think… what we’re doing here, so far from the front, is making a difference for everyone else?”

“Oh, dear, here you go again with your deep thinking,” Ichinose replied, shrugging. “Of course what we’re doing is making a difference. Otherwise you’d see more casualties on the news. Imagine getting recognition for helping in perfecting a new weapon system for our witches!” the air control officer emphasized his point by thrusting his fist in the air. “I can see it now: ‘Navy test squadron helps save lives!’ They’d make documentaries about us!”

Takamiya gave Ichinose an annoyed look. “You’re not helping, Fukube.” She finished her coffee before adding, “I still think we’ll be sent to the front soon.” She shuddered involuntarily. “These pilots and witches… they’re far too young to see the true horrors of war. They’re not ready for it.” She hugged herself, clutching the sleeves of her uniform. Her purple hair drooped down, covering the dark expression on her face. Images of the battle of Tokyo flashed in her mind.

They were both silent for a while, the witch holding on to herself tightly, the air control officer looking around helplessly as if searching for something to break the ice. After what almost amounted to minutes, Ichinose finally spoke, “Look, Erika. You… you shouldn’t be so cynical about this situation we’re in, okay?” Again, he looked around, unsure how to proceed. “The Army’s already making headway into the heart of China, Korea’s pretty stable, and Russia’s suffering heavily on the Western Front. I’m sure they won’t need to put us in the fight.” Putting on a grin, he added, “Even if they DO call us up—and I highly doubt that—you, me, everyone in this carrier group is getting out of it alive. We have the Crimson Lightning commanding us; we’ve got the most advanced ships, planes, and strikers at our disposal…”

“You’re oversimplifying things, Fukube,” Takamiya exclaimed, cutting off the ACO’s pep talk short. “Just think of the aviators and witches. They’re barely fresh off training, probably still idealistic, thinking how glorious it is to fight in His Imperial Majesty’s Navy. Imagine them seeing death and destruction.” The witch fiddled with her green hair ribbon for a bit before continuing. “If they do survive combat, they’d be scarred for life. I… I don’t want that to happen to them.” Ichinose made no attempt to cut in. “They have their whole lives ahead of them… they… they shouldn’t even be here in the first place.”

Ichinose sighed. This was typical of Takamiya; she holds her thoughts in, more often than not, but when she lets them loose, she can get very emotional. “You know, my father used to tell me something: fate is like a tsunami; you can choose to fight it and face utter destruction, or ride its currents and take control.” The witch looked up, her attention now focused on him. “We can’t always choose our battlefields, Erika. Sometimes life throws us a curveball that catches us off-guard. Sometimes, too, you don’t actually have to hit that curveball to win the match.” He paused, pulling out a box of Pocky. Snatching a Pocky stick and putting it in his mouth, he continued, “I don’t really know what’s going to happen when all this is over. What I DO know is that, whatever happens, I’ll make sure I can make the most out of my time in service. That means helping out those who took it the hardest in this war, the ones who have been scarred and will be scarred by all this fighting. I don’t have a plan yet on how to do it, but I will do it.”

Takamiya actually smiled at that; a weak smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Fukube, you were always so optimistic… I’m sure it will get you in trouble in the future.” She wiped away the tears that had formed in her eyes. “By the way…”

“What I—” a wicked right hook hit Ichinose square in the jaw before he can finish his reply, dropping him flat on the deck.

The ACO sat up quickly, clutching at his lower jaw as he did so. “Well gee, I thought you don’t do that anymore,” he said, as the witch offered him a hand to help him stand up. “You said you’d stop hitting me for no reason back in Hakodate, remember?”

“This is a special case,” Takamiya replied, dusting off her hands. “Pent-up frustrations get to you, you know?” Ichinose merely smirked in reply. Chuckling, Takamiya continued, “Anyway, I really do appreciate you listening to me. You’ve been helpful, though not much, and… wait, are you even listening?”

The ACO was actually looking behind the witch, distracted by something. Before Takamiya could see what it was, she felt something tug on her uniform. Turning around, she found the source of the tugging: Ensign Nanami Kaede. The little witch held on to Takamiya’s sleeve with her left hand while her right hand was clutching a copy of Jo’s Boys.

“Already? Hang on, Nanami, let me finish up here, okay?” Takamiya exclaimed, fixing her white beret on—a personal accessory that she kept from her academy days. Kaede nodded wordlessly in response.

“It’s time for you to go, I take it? After all, your cute little sister came up here to fetch you,” Ichinose smirked.

Takamiya snapped back with equal snark, “For the last time, Fukube, she is not my little sister, and I do not have a little sister complex, so shove it.” She turned to go, Kaede close to her side and still clutching her sleeve. She stopped however and, without turning, exclaimed, “Thanks again, Fukube. I owe you one.”

Ichinose watched them go. He turned towards the horizon as the first rays of sunlight peeked from behind the clouds. He grinned, though his jaw still felt the sting from that punch earlier.

“So much for enjoying the sunrise,” he muttered to himself as he took a bite at another Pocky stick.


Admiral AIKAWA chuckled as he watched the scene from the observation deck. “Ah, the joys of youth,” he muttered. He glanced over to his companion—a young officer with short, wavy hair, piercing black eyes and stubby nose, wearing an unmarked navy blue field jacket, white ascot, white pants and well-shined black shoes—to see his reaction.

“I don’t know how getting punched in the face could amount to the joys of youth, sir,” Naval Intelligence Liaison Jinn Hamatsu replied, visibly puzzled at the admiral’s remark.

“That’s precisely the point, Hamatsu. Youth is that phase of life when you can get away with bizarre notions like getting punched in the face.” Aikawa patted the younger officer on the shoulder, adding, “You’ll understand when you get to my age.”

“But sir, you’re barely even 48.” Hamatsu refuted, still confused.

Aikawa sighed. Kids these days tend to overthink things. “With that done,” he exclaimed, changing the subject, “I suppose we can focus on the matter at hand, Hamatsu?”

“Indeed sir,” Hamatsu responded in a business-like tone. “I looked into background information concerning Ensigns Ichimonji and Kaede.” He paused. “I found some, ‘discrepancies’, if you will.”

Aikawa stayed mum and serious, his attention focused on every word coming out of the intelligence officer’s mouth. “I made queries on basic information, mostly concerning their background as orphans. However, when I tried to extract higher-end information, I was, ‘denied’, so to speak.” Hamatsu fixed his ascot. “Actually, headquarters was just looping my queries around different intelligence branches. What’s even weirder is that, when I was close to getting the information I really need, I run into ministry-level intelligence staff, brushing off my queries with official excuses for the unavailability of the data.” He shrugged. “It’s like they don’t want people to know more about those two witches, apart from the basics.”

The admiral scratched his chin, contemplating on the information given him. “Why am I not surprised?” He then remembered his briefing on these girls; his superiors told him they were high-value assets that would be help ‘in conducting research and testing for new weapons’, and nothing else. He tried to inquire further, but he was brushed off with the remark that he lacked ‘clearance’ for the information. Turning back to his companion, he asked, “What do you suggest we do now, Hamatsu?”

“Well sir, I could still use some other avenues,” the intelligence liaison replied.  Fixing his uniform he added, “But then we could run into problems over ‘back channels’ and whatnot.”

“I can accept the risks, Hamatsu,” Aikawa replied. “Just try to make it as tidy around the edges as possible. If what Sa-" He stops himself before he can say his friend’s name. “If my source’s hunch is right, there might be more to this whole assignment than meets the eye. If you can’t keep this job entirely clean, Hamatsu, you have my permission to get creative.”

The liaison regarded the last statement coolly before answering, “Of course Admiral Aikawa.” With that, he clicked his heels and saluted the admiral. “By your leave, sir.”

Aikawa saluted back. “Keep up the good work, Hamatsu. Dismissed.”

The rouse blared over the intercom as Aikawa turned to look back on deck, by now milling with activity. Catapult crews checking the wind speed, arresting gear teams double-checking the #4 arresting gear, ordnancemen and fuel crews slowly coming topside from elevators. A bosun’s call can be heard not too far away, signaling for the boatswain’s gang to assemble.

Fixing his command cap back on, Aikawa muttered, “Quite the mess we’ve gotten ourselves in, huh?”