HIHS Senbonzakura Eulhae War Memorial
Uraga City
Yamato Province
Empire of Akitsukuni
The guns of the HIHS Senbonzakura - "a thousand cherry blossoms" - had lain dormant for the majority of the ship's history. She was once the pride of the Imperial Navy, the most powerful battleship in the world with six 510 millimetre guns, the heaviest artillery to ever be fitted on a ship. This single ship's mere presence caused the surrender of the Meisaani island of Hengsha in the dawn of the war she was made for, and her guns roared in defiance as one of the last troops in the desperate defence of her home nation. While other smaller ships were torn apart for scrap in the tumultuous period after the war, Senbonzakura would remain as the flagship of the now peacetime Imperial Navy. She sat in the dock more often than she sailed the seas. In the present day, the monster that violated fifteen naval treaties and resulted in five complaints and one flustered re-declaration of war sat silently in the calm waters of Uraga Port, not far from the Naval Arsenal she was born in. Where once the Empress Tsukiyama and her General Staff toured the decks, now Meisaani tourists posed with the anti-aircraft guns that ironically had shot at their forefathers' aircraft. Where the Imperial Navy's crewmen once loaded shells to be fired at Jeongmian ships, these victims' far descendants now gawked at wax models dressed in period uniforms depicting the process. This was the general effect of war museums, no matter where they were located.
Morita Mori did not look out of place in such a location. He was the typical Akitsukunese salaryman, dressed in a business kimono of black and muted blue. He had a Western-style windbreaker jacket slung over his shoulder. Western clothes were getting more popular all the time, with politicians and businessmen adopting the look throughout not just Akitsukuni but also the entire Sinju region. Regardless, some of the more prominent businesses prohibited western dress as it was seen as a distraction to workers. Around Mori's neck was a Kannon DSLR camera, and he wore the stereotypical thick-framed rectangular glasses worn by so many Akitsukunese these days. His hair was combed over to one side and was slick with hair gel, or whatever he used. Again, like many fellow generic moneymakers. In his right hand he carried a newspaper, with the headlines naturally focused on the Empress' public appearance later that day. She would be meeting with some Meisaani leaders, to deal with the latest round of island disputes. Since Her Imperial Highness turned eighteen earlier that year, she suddenly took on so many more political responsibilities, appearing in public much more often than in the preceding four years of her rule. Perhaps she was now more well-accepted by the international community due to her maturity.
The man walked briskly along the edge of the ship. He wore the modern sports shoes as made in Akitsukuni, an adaptation of western-style shoes made comfortable for sportsmen and such. Mori sidestepped to avoid a running child screaming in Jeongmian. He glared at the boy, and his mother who came running while wearing an obnoxiously large sun-hat. The sea breeze brought with it gulls, who lined the rigging and cables still in the ship's wartime configuration. He looked up at the Naval Rising Sun flag fluttering in the wing, then glanced at a group of giggling Daeseongi teens taking selfies with an anti-air gun not far away. Mori sighed and shook his head.
The flight deck. The Super Yashima-class battleships - only one was built, but four were laid down - carried several scout floatplanes, like the standard Yashima-class. Mori would need to get to the stern of the ship. There was nothing to steal there, so there were no modern security cameras. He made his way past a navalised Type-35 fighter, running his hand against the cool metal skin as he did so, taking in the authentic green camouflage. This museum truly made everything look lifelike, apart from the wax pilot. Mori could swear that the catapult would launch the Type-35 at any moment, as he was touching it.
"Morita!" Another man called to him, standing at the safety railing along the side of the ship. Mori waved and quickened his pace. Daisuke Nishikawa. His friend, his colleague and his comrade. The other man was shorter, but dressed in a similar attire. Mori patted his friend's back as he arrived, feeling the bulletproof vest hidden under his friend's baggy kimono. That was perhaps one advantage traditional clothing had over the western ones.
"Good, you didn't forget," Mori quipped, now resting his hands on the railing and looking out over the ocean. Shipping was higher than usual today, perhaps due to the recent trade agreements that further removed tariffs between Akitsukuni and Meisaan.
"What about your end?" Nishikawa asked, his voice wavering slightly. Mori laughed and gestured towards the carpark on the shore. Mori's car would be the compact Mitsushishi, a bit beat up from his off-road adventures but still acceptable, though dwarfed by the brutish, big Daeseongi SUVs that were now so widespread as a status symbol.
"All that shipping was expensive but I managed to get it. Fresh from Jeobseon."
"Not fresh after three weeks," Nishikawa quickened his tone, even glancing behind. Mori patted his back to calm him. Yet another shipful of Jeongmian goods was turning into harbour, the Jeongmian flag flying boldly in the same breeze that also hoisted the Imperial Flag.
"Three weeks but still right on schedule, no? Don't be so tense, bro. Want to get something to eat? We've still got a few hours..."
