Aritomo’s eyes fell on the very peripheral construction hall, half on land, half in the water. It was particularly secure, with additional guards, and he wouldn’t gain access at this time, though he would be the first officer in the vehicle to wait for its maiden voyage tomorrow morning.
A big secret, but not one that would be kept as such for a long time. Aritomo felt a deep satisfaction that he was allowed to participate in this historic moment. If everything went well, he would make his nation and his parents proud, and if he increased his experience as a submarine officer by doing so, his own command was just a formality. His goal to train new officers at the Naval Academy would sooner or later be realized. He liked to teach and he liked to learn. A career as an instructor, in addition to his own command, was the central goal of his ambitions.
It looked good.
Everything in his life had developed wonderfully.
“Can’t sleep?”
Aritomo turned to see Yuto Sarukazaki in the twilight. The Ittoheiso was the oldest member of his crew, the highest non-commissioned officer and at the same time the chief engineer of their boat. At almost forty, he was a formidable figure. Aritomo liked the pragmatic and effective man, and he liked to listen to his advice. This put him in sharp contrast to the captain and joint superior, Lieutenant Inugami, who insisted that the sharp line between officers and the rest couldn’t be transgressed by informal behavior and exaggerated camaraderie. Why did he insist on such things in the oppressive narrowness of a submarine? Here, where a cordial cooperation between all soldiers was necessary, one didn’t want to get on someone’s nerves quickly. Aritomo didn’t understand. For him, submarine people were a special kind, for which some of the very rigid rules prevailing in the Navy didn’t apply. Locked in a metal can, threatened by a particularly cruel death, this shared destiny – the real and the potential – should make a different kind of personal connection possible.
Inugami had probably never really gotten used to this idea. But the difficult superior would remain an episode, something to endure on a path that would take Aritomo past it.
“I’m not tired yet,” Aritomo replied, tilting his head toward the factory floor. “I can’t wait.”
“I understand you well. But it doesn’t seem like everything will go as planned tomorrow.”
Aritomo looked up. “What happened?”
Sarukazaki had a cigarette in his hand, its red glow well visible in the darkness.
“While you were on vacation, plans have changed. I don’t know any details; so far only Inugami has been informed. But he looked so happy and pleased that an important announcement must be imminent.”
Sarukazaki apparently wanted to add something, but then thought better of it and said nothing. Anyway, Aritomo guessed what he had meant to say – anything that pleased his stern commander didn’t necessarily have to be positive for the rest of the crew. Inugami was far more ambitious than his first officer and ready to give anything to position himself in the right light. Aritomo knew that some of the crew members called him “Lieutenant Taisho” behind his back, hinting to the man’s clear aim to rise to Admiralty rank as quickly and effectively as possible.
Aritomo always pretended he didn’t hear those remarks. He didn’t like the man, but to obey was his duty. After all, Inugami was only a year older, and therefore it wasn’t so natural for him to beat Aritomo if he didn’t quite do what the commander had asked him to. With the other crew members, perhaps with the exception of the much older boatswain, he dealt liberally with corporal punishment. Blows in the face were not uncommon. Aritomo didn’t belong to the faction among Navy officers who considered this tradition to be meaningful. He didn’t employ beatings, as was his freedom of choice as an officer.
But who was he to fundamentally question the traditions? That was indeed the job of an admiral.
“No rumors? Normally, lower ranks know more about everything than we do,” Aritomo insisted.
Sarukazaki grinned, showing his immaculate white teeth, which Aritomo secretly envied. He took a last drag from his cigarette before dropping the shimmering rest to the floor and putting it out with the heel of his shoe. As a smoker, it was difficult for him to forgo his addiction for weeks while confined in a submarine, aside from those spells they stayed above water.
“Security measures have been stepped up, there are extra guards, and our commander is dripping with joy – I suspect we expect a really high visit to celebrate our maiden voyage. Probably someone from the highest ranks of Admiralty, if you ask me.”
Aritomo nodded. This supposition did indeed fit well with his own speculations. “Then we should be ready,” he said, taking in the cool evening air before turning around. “I’ll try to find sleep now. I suggest you do as well, Ittoheiso Sarukazaki.”
The man stood tight and saluted with a smile. “Yes, Sir.” With that he turned away and disappeared in the darkness.
Aritomo paused a moment longer before following his own advice. If it was true what the man had told him – and that something was in the works there was no doubt –, he would need all his energy tomorrow in order to make the necessary preparations.
And to endure the slimy anticipation of his commander.
If he liked it or not, now was time to endure some privacy.
“Men, we have a great time ahead of us!”
Kaigun Daii Tako Inugami teetered on tiptoe, and almost smiled at the crew in front of him. This was unlikely – Inugami never smiled –, but he radiated such a sunny enthusiasm that no one really wanted to believe.
The thirty crew members under the command of the lieutenant had gathered in one of the classrooms. The fact that they were allowed to sit down right away spoke for the exceptional good humor of their superior. Normally, he gave a speech without worrying about the well-being of his men. Inugami himself liked to stand and endure, a passion that was not shared by everyone.
“I received the news a few days ago that the maiden voyage of our new boat will receive the utmost attention. I’m not talking about the Admiralty here – although of course they are very interested in the results –, but I mean the very highest attention.” Inugami leaned forward and lowered his voice to a devotional volume. “His Imperial Highness, Prince Isamu, will accompany us on our journey.”
Silence descended across the room. Inugami apparently enjoyed the awesome horror sparked by his news. Aritomo felt contradictory feelings. Of course, to be visited by the second son of the Tenno, to be able to enjoy his presence more than with a fleeting glimpse, that was more than an honor, it was an event of which they would all tell their grandchildren and grandgrandchildren. Aritomo was filled with deep reverence for the imperial family, and he was delighted to attend the military parade for the inauguration of the current Tenno two years ago. Isamu was born shortly after Hirohito, the crown prince and heir to the throne, and his mother was an imperial concubine, just as Tenno Taisho himself was the son of a concubine. There was nothing honorific about that, and their wives had quickly recognized these sons as legitimate members of the family. Isamu was thirteen years old and enthusiastic about anything to do with ships. As he knew, unlike his brother, he didn’t visit the Gakushuin School, where the nobility’s offspring was commonly educated, but had been enrolled at one of the preparatory cadet schools, to be able to embark on the career of an officer. One never saw the young man in public in any other attire than in the uniform of a cadet, and no one doubted that he would once become an important military leader.
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