Yamatai System
In Orbit over Planet Yamatai
18日 3月 YE 43
YSS Resurgence Hangar Bay
Koyama, her entire life had revolved around serving in the Star Army. She'd been raised amongst the sentinels of the Imperial Family, the Samurai. Had been given the choice of becoming one of those stalwart guardians, donning the white and red. But much like her elder sister, had chosen her path in life. She had turned down the offered hand of the select sisterhood and guardianship of the few that ruled, and instead of the guardianship of the many. When she had reached full maturity, just days after. Her extended family, in spirit, had acknowledged her choice, wished her luck, and had always left the door open for her. Her own mother had respected her wishes, but as often was the case worried for her child as was right and proper. She'd started small, a simple cargo technician, engineer who repaired shuttles for a living, guarding tool tents on a dilapidated Zodiac-class Star Fortress that had remained in United Outer Colony hands until the Empire had reclaimed it, and the territories.
Up to this point, her life had been a wild, crazy ride fraught with danger aplenty. She'd refused the offer of becoming an officer at the hand of a Taisho of the now destroyed Tenth Fleet and from the woman named Morioka. Reasoning that she'd rather work for her rank, privilege, and recognition as was proper although once she had been asked by her sister on the matter of her refusal and had admittedly been lightly scolded for it yet had also been given sage advice at the sametime and insight into her sibling's past. She'd not been born with a silver spoon between her lips. But a rag in hand. She'd cooked, cleaned helped with the administrative staff at the Iron Pagoda, and when the time came had a sword in hand, the bruises, and broken or fractured bones to show it while considered the runt of the litter amongst the giants that were the Samurai warrior women. A hard work ethic had been drilled into her and of her own choice even when she'd been forced to dress in finery to greet those deemed worthy or esteemed enough to pass through those heavy wooden, iron-banded gates of the House. And after eight long years, and a bloody war later it had paid off. From Shoi to Chui, and now a First Officer for a starship.
Just one step closer to her own ambitious goals for the future. She was hungry enough for it and had lept at the chance with vigor.
As the passing of the torch for the YSS Resurgence, a Fuji-Class Gunship went on, Koyama stepped off the same shuttle as the Shosa who would be her CO. Even before reading his profile, she'd made a cursory observation of him. A built-in reflex if you will. Samurai were trained to be ever vigilant. To assess those around them. Be they friend or foe. Her smoldering, molten gold eyes had found him, and her head had dipped in deference to his position and rank. But she had seen enough of him to take stock before perusing the file she had been forwarded. His eyes were a little hard, a shrewd glint to them and an intelligence lurking behind them that bellied a man who was a thinker. His posture was straight, confident. Facial hair was neat and trimmed. Hair was worn short and well-kept (as she herself believed heavily in maintaining her own appearance hair and all) and he had the cast of a true-blooded Yamataian about him without the harsher, pale of their more northern brethren. Overall she'd found the man intriguing. It a curious mix and one worth possibly trying to unravel as they worked together. Her dossier, accomplishments, tours of duty everything that she was during her near-decade within the Star Army had been laid bare for the perusal of course including her incident upon that UOC station that had, had her rack up a kill count most armor pilots took time to achieve. All while it having been her first true taste and test of live-fire actual 'ground' combat instead of in the black and nestled within meters of Yamataium and Zesuaium plating. Yet she had to admit her curiosity was piqued on just what the man thought of this greenhorn to the commanding white would fare when all she had under her belt.
Although the younger Nekovalkyrja had felt her stomach flip several times. Butterflies fluttered within her tummy and the reflex to place a small, slim hand there had been palpable whilst she'd remained silent. Letting her CO to his contemplation, observations, and whatever else was going through his mind. This was her first time serving on this class of ship, for she in her long career (As a Neko) had served on many a modern vessel. The Fuji was new to her. And during the trip, she'd taken the time to review its specifications. The design was well-intended with thought placed in form and function. Yet ever the engineer in mind, body, and soul she found faults or improvements that could be made here and there. Cooling systems, targetting arrays. Point defense batteries. Conduit systems. Her mental list had grown a little, but overall she'd deemed the vessel well-formed and suited to the role given an adequately skilled and knowledgeable crew. That, or perhaps she had been spoiled having served under and alongside illustrious individuals and mighty ships of the line in the past.
And now as she strode down the ramp, her own Type 35 Uniform, with the unfamiliar panels of white attributed to command with the golden stripes denoting her rank along the sleeves, the heart-shaped bronze and white enameled rank pin of a Chui in place. Her black boots had been glossed to a high polish by her own hand. Tights, skirt, and uniform had all been pressed, cleaned, immaculate. The belt about her narrow waist had, had to be cinched tighter than the norm, but held nicely, even the buckle was polished. At her hip held a holstered Type-33 NSP, of the non-reflective dark. More preference than something ostentatious and practical in situations necessitating discretion as needed.
Her communicator was clipped to the belt in its own semi-pouch, yet she wore a slate, almost black bracelet about her left wrist. One of the newer generation Multi-Function Bracelets one of the 1-B models, a holdover from her prior tenure within SAINT's HERA group before it had become RISE. Its non-descript nature did not betray its capabilities, but having a preference for the device versus a handheld comm-unit especially while not within her more preferred Type 42 Bodysuit was a comfort she afforded and utility it provided.
Along with the delicate, almost elusive scented perfume she had taken a liking to she hadn't laid it on thick. Just enough for that ghostly whiff in passing. An exceedingly complex mix of oils and scents invoking a bit of mystery and the exotic, with scents of amber, agar-wood, saffron, jasmine, pepper, and others. It was a bit of a hint at the personality of its wearer all thanks to Kagayaki's unique biochemistry-based perfume product. It was quite literally 'Her' in a bottle. Beyond this, she wore no adornment. Even foregoing the nails the Type-33 Tennyo came standard with.
Beyond her dress, the young woman and new officer's hair was immaculate, something she took immense pride in, silken smooth, straight, shiny, and smelling light of a floral shampoo and conditioning agent. Diligently combed and styled. Regulation length with side-swept bangs framing her fragile, doll-like classical Yamataian features most found beauty within and had earned her more than a few passes throughout the years all of which had been shot down. Her pale-pink lips were a little pursed, eyes glancing over those before her somewhat disturbingly gold eyes as the Resurgence's prior CO spoke in regard to Shosa Aoba.
Koyama had taken position just off to his right, standing a little behind him, a slender, pale hand resting upon the pommel of the unfamiliar Officer's sword on her other hip. It made her uncomfortable. Being raised as she had, holding a katana was a bit blasphemous to her for she had not earned it by the standards of her upbringing, or that of the full daishō set by her teacher or a moniker of her own. Much preferring the slender, straight rapier she had meticulously forged herself right down to each individual detail. However, she couldn't deny the Officer's Katana wasn't pleasing to the eye.
Her only true gripe had been that it was simple steel, however, processed and refined, steel was steel. Perhaps one of these days she could request as she had done before with her own weapons with the Zaibatsu, and have it clad in Zesuaium, transparent of course. The dull-non reflective grey simply gave the mighty material away yet the transparency feigned something else. A lesser material, one to be underestimated until too late, and an iaidō with which she had performed, and caused fear within Kuvexian holdouts on a long-abandoned Colonies station could be had and demonstrated on any enemy foolish enough to tempt fate. As much as she detested, and was disgusted by the traitorous Shadow Vipers, she could not deny the effectiveness and philosophy with which they had garnered over the decades. Still, even after all these years, she remained vigilant for signs of them. And would not hesitate in trying to kill, maim, capture or report their sighting to those Samurai still loyal to the Samurai House and Imperial family itself.
Continuing to listen as Majime spoke, the new Chui, merely sent a gentle ping as unobtrusive as possible to her new CO that she was present and accounted for and by his side if needed.