Rowan Takeda had never been more grateful for simple coursework!
Wednesday and Thursday passed in a blur of sweat, lectures, and exactly zero near death incidents. For the first time since arriving at Avalon, no one tried to duel him or put hardlight where it had no business being.
Hood arrived each morning at 0600 sharp, knocking once before entering his room with all the ceremony of a royal inspection. Then came cardio on the bluff and dueling drills by the practice field.
To her credit, Hood was a brilliant instructor.
"Your footwork is dreadful." she said Thursday morning, rapping his shin with a wooden blade. "But you naturally move asymmetrically. That makes you very talented, Master Takeda. Most have a tendency to drop their guard when launching a strike, but you don't. It's a great place to start!"
She seemed weirdly happy to be helping him for what was supposed to be a punishment. And for Rowan's part, he was ecstatic. Hood moved like water and she was teaching him to do the same.
In the afternoons, she became his private tutor calmly walking him through the academic gaps in his record. She covered everything from basic fleet maneuvers to recognizing radar classification and predictive strike indexing. Her voice stayed gentle, but firm. If he fumbled twice on a concept, she'd repeat it as many times as needed. But every fumble after that cost him a lap around the campus.
But then came the great betrayal. The food situation.
Rowan opened his fridge Thursday evening and just stared. The pudding cups were gone. The chocolate milk, gone. His emergency Nutella jar? Banished. The only thing left was a tray of boiled eggs, two apples, and a plastic container labeled "Celery Mix – 0 Cal." Rowan had never used the descriptor 'evil' for foodstuffs but whatever existed in that Tupperware deserved it!
But the lowest blow was his case of Cokes. Vanished like an Appalachian hiker. He shut the door slowly and the 'Celery of Extreme Despair' went into the trash.
A few seconds later, Lightning manifested beside him with a flicker of light, sitting cross-legged on his counter like a smug holographic gremlin.
"Before you ask," she said, poking his cheek, "that was Lady Hood. Not me. She said, and I quote," Here she modulated her voice into a pitch perfect replica of Lady Hood. "If Professor Piorun limits him to thirty grams of carbohydrates per week, then it is for his own good. I shall honor the treatise."
Rowan groaned. "That's not a treatise! That's tyranny!"
Lightning giggled, and reached behind the microwave. "You're just lucky Hood didn't look here! You'd be living on distilled sadness." She pulled out a 4 pack of Cokes and tossed them to him with a grin before she popped out of existence. "I got your back, Cap!"
He had never wanted to kiss Lightning more in his life. "I fuckin love you!" He said cracking one free and twisting off the top. "You are amazing!"
Lightning appeared in the corner of his vision, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed like a glowing projection of his anxiety.
"So, Cap," she said casually, resting her chin in her hands, "noticed you were a bit spacey during Hood's sonar review. What's up?"
Rowan groaned and peeled off his shirt, tossing it somewhere near the desk before flopping backward onto the mattress like a man defeated. Lightning materialized and grabbed it midair and draped it over the chair.
"Ugh, I'm just nervous about tomorrow," he muttered, staring up at the ceiling. "I mean...I have to go on a date. With Bismarck, out of obligation! I don't even know if the girl likes me. I harangued her into this literally at gunpoint!"
Lightning blinked at him, her expression somewhere between amused and concerned. "C'mon, it can't be that bad. You two get along okay! It's just gelato, for Pete's sake."
"No, it's not!" Rowan threw his hands in the air, then covered his face with a pillow. "This is huge! You might not get this, but I've never dated anyone! Heck, the only girl I ever really talked to was Marla, and that's just because we were both obsessed with Gunpla. And that didn't even go anywhere!"
Lightning raised a brow and stretched lazily on the edge of his vision, teasing, "So... what you're saying is this is a maiden voyage?"
"Don't call it that," Rowan groaned through the pillow. "Now I feel like I'm gonna sink."
Lightning snorted and rolled onto her stomach, kicking her feet in the air. "Look, boss, you're not storming Normandy."
"No," Rowan groaned, face still buried in the pillow. "I'm invading the Reichstag."
"Ooooh!" Lightning's voice shot up an octave, gleeful. "Spicy! That your goal here? To, ahem, conquer her fatherland?"
He sat up, eyes wide. "What?! No! That's not... I just want her to have a good time! Maybe talk a little!" His voice dropped and he looked away from her. "I have some questions and stuff..."
"Oh sure," she drawled, floating upside down now, arms crossed. "Sounds like great first date banter. 'Hey, Bismarck, did you put a carrier Captain in the hospital because you're a cold-blooded killer, or was that more of a heat-of-the-moment war crime?'"
"Jesus!" Rowan grabbed a pillow and chucked it at the empty space her voice had come from. "I'll have more tact than that!"
Lightning popped back into view near the dresser, smug and unrepentant. "You say that now, but I know you. You're gonna start with polite small talk, then trip over your own tongue and end up quoting Code Geass or asking about her kill count."
He opened his mouth to protest then shut it, thinking. Dang it. "…Okay maybe that's fair."
"Look, Cap," Lightning said, appearing above the bed in a swirl of light, hands on hips and voice full of exasperated affection, "you do need to talk to her about all that heavy stuff, but not tomorrow. First dates are about favorite colors and that stupid little gift you got at the student store, not, 'Hey, did I put a carrier in a coma?' You need to start planning now. It's practically D-Day."
"I know!" Rowan groaned, throwing a pillow across the room. "That's what I'm saying! I'm completely lost!"
He buried his face in the sheets. "You're a girl. What would be your ideal date? If I were taking you out somewhere… where would you want to go?"
Lightning froze.
The room flickered, just faintly, as if her entire projection had caught its breath.
She hadn't run that simulation. Had never dated... It gave her too much hope.
For all her bravado, all her teasing, all her pushing him toward others, she hadn't prepared for that question.
She slowly lowered herself to sit cross-legged at the foot of the bed. Didn't look at him. Just let the moment hang there while her core stabilized.
"Oh, Cap…" she whispered, voice barely a flicker in his mind.
He stayed quiet.
She didn't glitch out or deflect. She just… answered. Once her logic circuits quit trying to run away with her. She told the truth.
"I'd want something simple. Music. Lights. A rooftop or a quiet street. Somewhere with space to talk. To maybe trade a few funny jokes. To just kind of... be. I'd want to wear something cute. Not for attention. Just to make you think I'm pretty."
She smiled gently, almost sadly. "I'd want you to bring me a gift. Something small. Something that said, 'I thought of you when I saw this, and I'm as nervous as you are.'"
Rowan nodded once. "That's what I was hoping to do."
Then her head snapped up, and the fire returned. "But this isn't about me, you big goof! This is about you going out there and knocking the screws loose on a Teutonic dreadnought! So tomorrow you are going to dress like a man possessed, learn her favorite color, and make her smile, got it?"
Rowan grinned. "Yes, ma'am."
"Now go moisturize or something," she huffed. "You're breaking out like a pre-mission cutscene."
He grinned at her. "You pre-generated that last metaphor. It didn't make sense. Man, I really flustered you with that question, didn't I?"
Lightning stuck out her tongue at him, glowing and slightly translucent. "Leave off or I'll mute your ears if Bismarck says something really cute."
He snorted. "Nah, you love me too much for that."
She blinked hard...but didn't deny it.
"But you're right," he added, stretching as he stood. "I need to shower. I still have sand in my hair from this morning."
He padded toward the bathroom, oblivious to the way she watched him go.
He had no idea how much those three little words meant. You love me.
For Lightning, they were the truest words he'd ever said.
---
Bismarck paced the narrow stretch between the twin beds of her dormitory—four steps, then a perfect parade-ground pivot on her bare heel.
"Otto," she said aloud, sharp but composed, "run the checklist again."
Otto, standing at full attention, snapped a crisp salute. "Ja, mein Kapitänin!"
Four steps. Pivot. She counted them every time.
"My handbag?" She had packed it with all of her essentials.
"Secured and stowed. Contents verified twice." He materialized a clip board and a pen. And began ticking off things as she listed them.
"And I've mapped the fastest route from the pier to Gary's Gelato?" Her efforts to be efficient should be impressive to Herr Rowan. Not that she actually cared of course...
"Confirmed. Two and a half minutes at a casual pace." He showed her the course display she had plotted.
Another pivot. Her breath came just a bit tight. Something was off.
"And our timing with the ferry... it will coincide with the two-for-one offer?" No need for a courting not to be economical.
"Correct. The window spans two hours. Ample time for shared dessert."
Four steps. Pivot. She could feel it now—an unaccounted-for variable. Something slipping between the cracks.
"And I've researched acceptable topics of conversation for... casual courtship?" She nearly choked on that last word.
Otto, flipped through pages on his clipboard, then began reading off notes like a field report.
"Preliminary conversational grapeshot includes: music genres, color palettes, surface-level hobbies. All deemed safe and breathable. Low risk of personal exposure."
Pivot. Four steps. Pivot. Her mind raced in perfect order and still...
Why did she feel like she was losing control?
Then Hood, still seated calmly at her desk, delivered the perfect broadside without looking up.
"All this marching won't help you decide what to do with your hair or what to wear, Bismarck."
The silver-haired captain stopped mid-step.
No... No!
Impact at the water line! Direct hit! Her entire battleplan began taking on water!
"Oh no," she whispered.