Empress' Palace, Kyoto — 12 days after the Battle for Yamatai

The red silk cushion of the marble bench made Yukari want to get back on her feet.

It was too nice. She felt she was ruining it by sitting on it. That her bottom was putting creases into the silk — which was not possible, with the silk sewn tight around the cushion — or that she was besmirching the mirror-like polish of the granite with her gloved hands — again, not possible, as her gloves were clean.

Just looking at the bench made her feel like an interloper, waiting for a Samurai guard to come by and haul her off by her armpits.

Looking at the rest of the massive hallway ... she winced.

The arched ceilings were amazing. They went 50 meters high at their top, their supports carved into rails topped with spiraling rope or vines etched into them. Each arch had two cylindrical red silk-and-metal lanterns hanging from the middle, one on top of the other: the top with Hinomaru, the bottom with the Ketsurui clan symbol. The light they gave was decorative instead of functional, even if each one was as tall as Yukari and just as wide. More red silk going down the trim of the marble columns that framed each piece of narrow wall.

On each piece of wall in the wing she was in, inlaid on a panel of ash wood, were paintings. Paintings several meters tall and several more wide, framed by gold, and showing the great battles of the Empire. Xyainbor ... Lor ... Nepleslia ... Elysia ... Hoshi no Iori ... North Gate. Each one violent, each one with a planet or star or planetary ring in the background, each showing the heroism of Yamatai's finest. They were painted with vibrant oil colors, in such a detailed style, Yukari believed them to be printings done by a machine. They showed the tiniest gap in the joint of a power armor's gauntlet, to the grandest cloud formation on Elysia and Nepleslia. All in a swiping technique Yukari could not place.

A spot was empty closest to her. That was where the Battle of Yamatai was destined to go. She wondered what it would look like.

She heard the clicking of heels against marble, down the grand hallway. She saw Hinoto, wearing dress whites, with her flowing snowy mane trying to catch up with the rest of her. She looked like a ghost, Yukari thought, if ghosts wore short skirts.

"Shosa," Hinoto said, bowing upon floating to her. Yukari nodded in return, then scooted aside so Hinoto could sit.

"Thank you," she said, in Yamataian. It sounded different, coming from her; Hinoto was practical enough to speak Nepleslian almost all of the time. Maybe she was doing it for Yukari's sake. The language was pretty when Hinoto used it, her more feminine voice adding inflections Yukari's never did. "Where are the others?"

"They will be here in time," she said. "For many, 03:00 is early."

"Star Army Command wants this to make the morning news." Hinoto sat down with her hands folded in her lap, just as Yukari did, but sighed as she did so. Yukari understood; the dress boots were not particularly comfortable on such hard surfaces. "They want our names to be very prominent. They want examples."

"Yes," Yukari said, looking at the stained wooden panel on the wall, awaiting its painting. "Melisson was given to SAINT, and SANDRA officials were upset they did not record her being entered into custody. We are lesser in stature, a secondary prize."

"But the Premier insisted we be publicized," Hinoto said, also looking at the panel. "It is unusual. Why is the Taisho not part of this?"

"I do not know." Yukari's eyes went lower, switching her left hand on top of her right in her lap. She did not truly know ... but she had a very good estimate. "It is one thing I have been unable to unearth. Perhaps she has other business?"

Hinoto's head dipped. Seconds passed. "Kotori-Taisa is not coming, is she."

Yukari squeezed her hands. She knew Hinoto would know, but saying it made the hurt more real. " ... No. She has gone."

"To kill Eve for good," Hinoto said, sadness edging her blunt words. "Yui wants her adopted daughter here to share in this praise, but the shame of the Battle and how it precipitated was too great for Kotori."

"Yes," Yukari said.

* * *

They had hardly been on planet for a day when the note had come to Yukari. She was visiting the Mokuren soldiers in the ship's medical ward. The ship was anchored outside of Kyoto Base, waiting its turn to be repaired at one of the space docks still around Luna Bianca. The skies were full of more ships than Yamatai had seen in some time, but with the battle won, Yukari wanted to tend the injured.

Nimura had delivered it, a roll of parchment rolled again into silk and tied with a gold ribbon. The Neko did not say anything to Yukari when she gave it to her, but there was something about her that seemed ... depressed. As if what she was delivering trod upon her soul, one more knock in bad times. Yukari thanked her, but Nimura did not stay to hear it.

The letter was blissfully and frustratingly short, written in practiced, but not perfect, script. The ink shined, as if it hardly had dried, before being rolled to be delivered.


They were orders. Stiff, no-nonsense orders, and Kotori did not just expect them followed, but demanded. There was to be none of Yukari's typical debating, arguing or pleading.

Just follow orders. Nothing more or less.

But between the strokes. In the tiny white spaces trapped by lines and boxes, by land and rivers, by music and emotion ... Kotori was asking her to give her time. Space.

Solace.

Yukari had sat down near a sleeping patient's bed when she read it. The ground was gone beneath her feet, or she felt like it was.

Kotori was gone.

There was nothing she was going to do about it this time; no last-ditch argument that somehow works. She was instead just supposed to let go.

" ... "

* * *

"If that is the case," Hinoto said. "You are the commander of Hoshi. So why are you not in your dress whites?"

Yukari's message to the crew had been to come in dress whites. Yukari, however, was in her Type 30B outfit, grey panels and all.

"I can explain," Yukari said to the floor.

"At least wear white panels," Hinoto chided. "I appear more important than you in this situation."

"I can explain," Yukari repeated to the floor, which remained unconvinced.

"SAINT can explain, you mean." Hinoto had her nose in the air a bit. "You have been conscripted."

The Shosa hung her head as she heard more steps coming down the hall.

Kai's long stride brought him easily to the front of the 'pack' of Miharu Crew members, though he really didn't feel he had deserved the position. Due to constraints of time, supplies, and manpower, he had elected to stay out of the direct fighting and help in the background with the Mokuren's crew, and while he knew that was important in and of itself, the tall blonde Yamataian couldn't help but feel he had copped out and taken the easy route.

Still, they had won the battle, and he had taken part in it, regardless, and so, while he didn't feel as deserving as the rest of his crew, he did feel that he had a place here. Where he'd go from here, however, he didn't know, although he had heard something about the Fifth fleet needing experienced Daisy pilots...

Regardless, Nakamura-Heisho strode up to Suzuka Yukari, and bowed to her. "We have arrived, Shosa" he announced, perhaps too formally, although it was a formal occasion, after all. from here, he wasn't sure exactly what to do, though it seemed from the two seated currently that he might be expected to do the same. he briefly eyed a seat a few spaces away, deciding to give room to the officers, but waiting to go and be seated himself.

The last several days of Rolf's life had been blanketed by death, smeared with blood, gripped by loss, and seasoned with emotional torque. In but what seemed a month after taking the Meng Po, he had been displaced so far away from his spot in the universe. His own home had been leveled; his friends, his family, and his home were all dead and gone. The past while had left him considering whether or not if the universe was lashing back at him. Another part wondered if it was justified or not, a trade off for the excellent warring he had done. Yet, did the universe believe he was such a monster to deserve it?

Rolf dismissed it as mild consideration, thoughts that didn't matter or change anything. The only family he had left was that of the Miharu and even that was disbanding. Everyone would get their medals, go their separate ways, and then collect on new assignments. As he stared up at the beautiful in-laid walls of the Palace, he felt alone. Even if Kotori had told him that his family would always be with the ship's crew, he felt so empty. What was the point of fighting, and earning honors if you had nothing to return to? If everything you had been fighting for were gone?

He dipped his head, staring at the smooth, well-kept flooring. The medals, the awards, and the prestige didn't matter to him much at all. The things he wanted were things that this country couldn't give him no matter how much they tried. No one could bring back his mother and sister, and no one could give back the years he lost. There was nothing left for him except tomorrow, and at the very least he was thankful for that. When the bullets stopped flying, that's all he could ever do, be thankful.

Still, nothing came from meandering on thoughts a little too long. Rolf straightened out his single possession, a Type 33 Standard Uniform, and made his way to the room he had been ordered to attend. His first reaction to the rooms surroundings being a low, admiring whistle of the walls.

"This place iss' mighty shnazzy." said Rolf in his thuggish Yamataian accent, speaking Yamataian words. "I almost feel outta' place, 'ere, were it not f'tha' fact we was tha' biggest baddest on Yamatai. Heh heh."

He looked between the two, before offering a small bow to the Shosa, greeting her in a professional way.

"Yuka-boss."

Then he looked over at Hinoto, giving her a wink and a grin, greeting her in a more lyrical fashion.

"Hino~to."

He then bowed deeply at Kai, in a overly-foppish way, putting forth both hands to comically honor the Heisho's presence.

"Oh great Kai-one."

With that, he stood up straight, putting his hands in his pockets.

"We gunna' eat any time soon? I'm fuckin' famished."

"If you were so hungry you should have woken up sooner." Nyton admonished as he approached. His voice sounded rough and there were dark rings under his eyes. Despite all the time he had taken to prepare himself he was still visibly distraught. The pristine state of the formal uniform he wore could not hide his condition.

Post-battle recovery had forced Nyton out of any further action and delayed him in returning to the Mokuren. Critically injured ships and crews took priority which caused him to lose the opportunity to find Kotori after the battle. By the time operations had ceased she was gone. No notice. No farewell. He searched the Mokuren frantically to try and locate some clue as to her whereabouts. Inquiries to the ship's computer remained obscure. By the time the note delivered to Yukari caught up to him, he had already searched nearly the entire ship.

How had Kotori expected Nyton to take the news? Shrug and move on? He had devoted himself to serving her and she was his deepest friend. Of course he tried to find her. If anything he would have joined her in her cause had she let him. Once again though she had made her decision and he was not to be a part of it.

The battle was over and there were pieces to be picked up but without a mission it left Nyton without a focus. Without a focus he could not push off the need to mourn. So for several days after a fruitless search he mourned the loss of Kotori as though she were dead. During that period he had raged, wept and physically assaulted shadows and simulations. When acceptance sank in he was haggard and worn.

By the time the crew was summoned Nyton was still looking worse for wear. He could not help that but he tried to remain professional and prepared himself as best he could to cover the pain. With that neutral expression he always wore he bowed slightly to Yukari and greeted her.

"Good morning Shosa."

"Nakamura-Heisho," Yukari said, a faint smile coming to her lips as she stood and bowed her head in return. "It is good to see you well. Please sit."

She gestured to her seat next to Hinoto, who smiled and patted the seat next to her a couple of times.

Yukari turned her head when she heard Rolf — then gasped. The man was in a regular uniform. A regular uniform! A regular uniform when he was about to be presented to the entire Yamataian populace!

The color from her face flushed red as she was about to open her mouth, ready to eviscerate him for what he had done when Nyton appeared.

The color drained. Nyton.

He looked like hell. Yukari knew the reason; everyone did. That Nyton had not truly received his own message, having to hear things from her ... she felt like it was a double-sided dagger, plunged into him while still piercing her.

"Claymere-Taii," she said, gaining control of her voice, though she reserved some of her anger to unleash on Rolf later.

" ... " What could she say that either had not been said already, or was so weak that it would be a waste of breath to utter at all?

Yukari bowed, a little deeper than she had to. "Thank you for being here."

Yukari saw the Miharu clan were approaching from behind Nyton. Nimura led them. Yukari saw Tori's streaked hair, Cho's wide eyes, the glow of Suzume's datapad ... Rin, Nao and Haya were in a cluster as well. When they approached, Yukari stood at attention as Nimura presented herself. The others bowed just after she did.

"Miharu clan now present, Shosa," the jet-haired Neko said.

“You both look pretty bad.”

It was addressed to Nyton and Rolf; the originator wore formal whites without a hint of red - except for the gleaming Heisho pin at the center of her collarbone. Yuzuki, who had been blending – somewhat impractically, since she was at least a few inches taller than the second tallest Miharu, Cho – smoothly took the vacant seat beside the Shosa. Immediately, she settled into a more casual position back against the wall, crossing one leg over the other and folding her arms.

“I’m surprised you have the gall to come to this like that,” Yuzuki continued, eyeing Rolf, “You know you’re going to be scrutinized by the entire empire. There’s hardly any time to change, now.”

Then, she glanced to Yukari.

Glanced – but said nothing.

Miyoko was slow to arrive, and stayed near the outskirts of the group once she did, silently surveying the scene. She'd managed to dodge several bullets, coming through both the Blue Rift and the battle of Yamatai unharmed (except the pesky dying thing), so on one hand, she counted herself lucky. On the other, the Miharu hadn't gotten through the battles without losses, nor had all of the ships she was in heavy communication with while coordinating the fleet.

It was, she was told, a time for commendations, but she didn't feel very commendable.

And there were other concerns! The dress whites were reminding her just why she'd always preferred bodysuit uniforms over the ones with skirts. Plus, the pure white caused other problems for her--since most of the rest of the crew had hair in more natural colors, the complete lack of color in everybody's clothes was going to make her violet hair stand out like a spotlight in any group shots. Maybe she could stand with the few others with brightly-colored hair to lessen the impact.

The night before...

"SAINT has conscripted me."

Tom cursed the message as soon as he had read it. He cursed the volumetric screen with its encrypted header and anonymous point of origin. Such cowardice--no, cruelty--it was for SAINT to leave the Yamataian no means of recourse, not even the decency of a return address.

Alone in his room on the Mokuren, the Yamataian was left to fester over his growing disillusionment with this so-called 'victory.' Never before had a word rung so hollow to him.

He closed the screen and greedily wrapped himself in the blankets of his empty bed. It didn't matter. Yukari would not come that night, same as the last three. Since the Battle of Yamatai, their time together had shrunk to little more than a passing nod in the hallways as they walked by each other in the Mokuren's halls.

The last twelve days they had lived entirely separate lives, Yukari tending to her duties as an officer and Tom assisting with the Mokuren's repairs deep within the subdeck. Nothing about their work overlapped: by the time Yukari would come to lay with him for the night, her lover was passed out from exhaustion. And by the time Tom would awaken, the only signs of Yukari's presence were a small indentation on the mattress and the gentle itching of dried lipstick on his cheek.

It was the kiss of a ghost, but at least it was something.

Now, all that remained was the growing stubble on his face.

His fists tightened into balls, his nails digging into the white blanket as he stared at the edge of the bed.

Victory.

-------

Tom followed behind the others, wearing his dress whites as ordered, his Juni pin shining brightly on his chest. He had had the awareness to groom himself properly, but he couldn't hide the bags under his eyes.

A quick glance to the others in the room revealed much about their emotional states. He wasn't surprised that Kotori wasn't coming; her pride had been ravaged with her misplaced trust in Yamatai. That had left Nyton a mess, obviously. Everything about him, from the expression on his face to the way he carried himself showed just how heavily the loss of Kotori was weighing on him. He made a note to buy him a beer after the ceremony.

Unsurprisingly, Rolf had managed to screw up dressing himself, but Tom didn't say anything about it. Frankly, he didn't care.

Miyoko, Kai and Yuzuki seemed fairly normal, vanilla even. Good for them.

Hinoto and the other sprites were doing as well as they could given the circumstances. Some were nervous, others excited. This ceremony would be good for them. They'd have something to focus on, and a potential stepping stone for future work. Great.

His eyes lingered on Yukari. Her dress was another slap in the face from SAINT.

He cursed the organization from the depths of his soul as he extended a deep bow to those in the room.

"Freeman-Juni reporting."

"Tch, like I had a choice. I asked f'a uniform and 'dey gave me 'dis'n. Guessin' 'dey didn't recognize me, since I haven't been leashed out on tha' show-room floor f'tha' whole world ooh an' aah at yet." he held out his arms, shrugging his shoulders, before holding up his hands in mock distress, "Oh! But don' worry! I'll juss' stand in tha' back so I don' embarrass any a'ya." He shook his head, before taking a look in Nyton's direction.

The Armor Commander looked like he had seen better days. In fact, he looked worse than he had when he filled himself with plasma to avoid Eve's control, and he had looked pretty bad back then. Being mostly unprivy to the matters of the officers, and more so to the reasons of Kotori's strange disappearance, Rolf had little to go on to cheer up such a tattered soul. At this point, he had pretty much given up on that. Just being here felt somewhat depressing, especially as more people showed up.

"Listen, I won't ruin tha' show f'ya, so if we ain't got tha' time, I'll side-step 'dis mess." dismissed Rolf, tossing his hands to the side, before turning about, heading for the hall he had walked in from, "I don' need y'pins and y'paperweights, anyway." He double-gunned Miyoko on his way out, the Science Officer looked good as usual, and Tom as well, "Ey, 'dere, Doc. Free-boss. Good t'see ya."

Kyou had been facing some serious doubts of her own, in the time since that final, horrible battle in the Rift. She had already been separated from the only family she knew, her training sisters, when she was sent to the Miharu, and arrived in such a close group of friends and closer, only to survive and remain where so many others hadn't. Not only had she survived, but she somehow survived despite being entirely useless- no, worse than useless, she'd been a liability, going down so early in the fight, but not even having the courtesy to just die so they didn't have to worry about her.

And then to misjudge her injuries enough to re-injure herself even worse trying to get back to the ship? It was beyond foolish. She'd probably been healthy enough to fight by the time the rest of the squad had deployed to fight in the Battle of Yamatai, but she simply couldn't bring herself to admit it. Kyou couldn't stand the thought that she'd simply be a liability again, be useless and probably put the few people she even knew here in danger yet again through her failure.

But then, from what she'd heard, they could have used another person during the fight. Maybe if they had her there as well, the Tiamat wouldn't have ended up falling like it had. Was her lack of confidence the reason so much of their world was devastated now? How could she live with that, knowing that her cowardice, her fear of her own abilities had resulted in the deaths of so many people? There were so many uncertainties, so many things she didn't know, and was almost afraid to discover.

She hesitantly made her way to the meeting point for the portion of the crew that remained, her head still so full of so many questions she wasn't sure of much of anything anymore. She didn't feel like she deserved to be receiving any medals or awards, to be sure, let alone to be hailed among the rest of the crew as a 'hero'. Kyou looked down at her brand new dress whites again one last time, making sure for the hundredth time that they were clean and crisp and... She sighed, forcing her hands back down to her sides, and made her way into the hall, picking up her chin in an attempt to at least look like she had some self confidence for the sake of the rest of the crew.