Hikaru wrestled with himself for a moment before clenching his teeth. "Screw it! I'm sure I'm meant to achieve great things. What's a little lost money? I'm not the least bit heartbroken over these resources."
He sat cross-legged in front of the materials, placed his hand lightly above them, and closed his eyes—not choosing to summon Lexington, but instead trying to resonate with the memories of steel.
'Pearl Harbor is under aerial attack—this is not a drill!'... 'The battle with Japan began with a single strike on Pearl Harbor.'... 'This is my post. As long as these AA guns still fire, I'm not leaving.'... A 250 kg bomb pierced the deck, detonating the ammunition below… No. Not yet. I can still fight. One more time! One more!
Hikaru's eyes snapped open. He had just experienced the full scope of the attack on Pearl Harbor, from the initial successful strike of 'Tora! Tora! Tora!' all the way until the battle quieted down.
Did the build succeed? Who had answered his call?
Click!
A pair of long legs wrapped in sleek black steel boots and covered by fine black stockings landed lightly before him.
Two fingers clad in gray-white gloves lifted his chin, raising his gaze upward.
What a pair of toned, athletic legs!
Above a thick buckled leather belt, her well-defined abs were fully on display. Unlike the soft, fragile vibe many shipgirls had, this one clearly screamed "sportswoman."
The woman bent forward, wearing a cropped black leather sports top. Hikaru's eyes roamed over her perfectly toned figure, which checked all his boxes.
"Well, well, aren't you a sharp little thing? Let this big sister lead you on a grand performance across the world!" she purred.
Straightening up, she tossed her long, silky blonde hair over her shoulder. Her striking blue eyes locked onto him with playful curiosity.
With her arms crossed and that cocky stance, Hikaru could only think of one thing—'She's dangerously charismatic.'
He stood up and fished a black t-shirt out of his bag.
"Put this on. Aren't you cold?" he asked.
"Is that any way to talk to your big sister? I'll smack you, you know!"
…
After some back-and-forth, California—though reluctantly—put on the t-shirt. Mostly because during their little sparring match, she realized she was no match for Hikaru when it came to close combat. She had no choice but to behave.
Of course, Hikaru had real martial training, while California's "combat" skills leaned more toward general athleticism than actual fighting. It wasn't surprising she lost.
California threw an arm around his shoulder. "So I wasn't your starter ship? Oh well, that's fine. Just call me 'Sis Cali.' I've got your back from now on."
Hikaru didn't really care about that kind of thing. "Alright, Sis Cali it is. How about 'Cali'? Sound good?"
She gave a wide, carefree grin. "I like it! How about we grab some beers later? I can even play music. Pretty awesome, right?"
Though she had delicate, almost Eastern features, her athletic build and bold personality gave her an entirely different kind of charm—one that felt strikingly handsome rather than delicate.
Brushing her arm off, Hikaru said, "Not now. I've got one more build to do."
"I'm kinda curious to see how shipgirls are born, actually. Don't screw it up, kiddo. If you do, you'll owe me a song at the bar later! Oh, and if you pull another girl, does that mean she'll have to call me 'Big Sis' too? Heh, come on, hurry up!"
Glancing at his watch, Hikaru realized nearly five hours had passed. It was already afternoon.
California was a three-star shipgirl—the second ship of the Tennessee-class battleships. Not exactly top-tier in terms of power, but when these warships turned into beautiful girls, raw stats didn't really matter anymore.
She'd even come with a +16 Firepower triple 14-inch gun, though it was just a one-star basic piece of equipment. Better than nothing, he supposed.
Just getting California felt like a win. In a way, she really was his first "built" shipgirl—starting off with a battleship wasn't bad at all.
Still, there was someone else he had promised to bring home. Someone who had been waiting… a very long time.
California kicked back, resting her chin on her palm. She could faintly hear the music playing outside and started humming along.
It was the tune they played whenever someone pulled a miracle ship.
Even though the build rooms were soundproofed, the noise outside still bled through. The unlucky students had already turned the place into a food festival, while the lucky ones were still hard at work.
If anyone heard Hikaru's inner monologue right now, they'd probably beat him to a pulp. He smirked to himself, settling down in front of the last pile of resources.
Normally, back-to-back builds were discouraged. Summoning a shipgirl drained a lot of mental energy, leaving the brain feeling foggy. Staying sharp was usually the best practice.
But the unlucky ones? They didn't summon anyone at all, so they didn't get tired. All they got was a free documentary show from centuries ago. What did they have to complain about?
Hikaru wasn't worried about his mental state. He was getting his Lexington.
He closed his eyes and tried to picture her, just as Fletcher had described.
She'd be delicate, but with a surprising core of resilience. A little more mature than a high schooler, but only just—a perfect mix that still retained a hint of playful mischief. She'd tease him just enough to make him flustered, but not so much that he'd ever really be mad.
Her smile would be pure warmth, the kind reserved for her beloved husband and the sisters she watched over.
She'd be good at everything—cooking, organizing, offering just the right encouragement when her Commander started to slack off. She'd drag him outside to feel the sea breeze when he needed a break.
She'd carry a touch of melancholy, born from years of waiting alone. She'd wear that LoveBlue wedding dress, with a silver tiara and a single blue flower pinned in her soft ash-blonde hair—something blue to represent faithfulness and pure love.
She was Lexington. His Lady Lex.
…
California rested her chin on her palm, watching Hikaru deep in thought.
A lot of people believed shipgirls were nothing but puppets—created to serve their Commanders with blind loyalty.
But they didn't understand. They had it all wrong.
It wasn't the Commander who gave them life.
It was the shipgirl who chose the Commander.