Author Note: This chapter is dedicated to Commander Edwin R. Wilkinson and Commander Donald MacDonald, whose exploits as the successive commanders of the real USS O'Bannon have been incorporated into this story.

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Shadows draw circles

Enraptured by promises

A maddening scent

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Chapter 1: Blood in the Water

Concern twinkled in a pair of violet eyes like sunlight on an alpine violet dotted with morning dew. Matchless, an M-class destroyer in Her Majesty's Royal Navy, struggled to stand still as anxiety tingled beneath every inch of her skin. Posted up at the conference room's door, the purple-haired destroyer girl watched the meeting between her Commander and the Admiralty Board. While she never liked to be more than a few steps away from the Commander's side, it would have been inappropriate for her to hover at the table. Taut wires of tension crisscrossed the massive oak meeting table. Each exchange pulled them tighter and tighter; Matchless expected something snap at any moment.

"Admiral, the Board appreciates the need for a fresh perspective and you have proven yourself more than capable as the commander of this joint operation," said one of the Board members, a portly fellow in an Eagle Union uniform with a clean-shaven face, bald head, and rounded cheeks. Matchless remembered him from previous meetings because he tended to do most of the talking for the Admiralty Board. Something about his face struck her as patronizing, and yet jealous at the same time. "But this transfer you requested is far too… unconventional for the Board's comfort."

Though all of the ship girls referred to their leader as "Commander", he held the official rank of Rear Admiral within the Global Postwar Coalition. During her first week as the Commander's secretary she referred to him as such in all of her reports, unaware that it acted only as a moniker and not his official rank. It still threw Matchless off whenever someone addressed the Commander as "Admiral."

The other members of the board muttered vague agreements with the portly admiral in the Eagle Union uniform. Matchless swallowed the dry lump in her throat and reached up to adjust her beret, unable to keep herself from fidgeting. Uniforms from every nation on both sides of the World War colored the GPC Admiralty Board. Most of the time they squabbled amongst themselves about everything from patrol schedules to how often the water cooler should be refilled. Their quiet unanimity against the Commander's request made Matchless squirm.

The Commander leaned forward in his seat and folded his hands on the table. In a room full of men with graying hair and wrinkled faces, the Commander's dark brown hair and smooth skin stood out as the only exception. Matchless recalled a conversation they shared back in his office after the previous meeting with the Admiralty Board. The Commander explained to Matchless that his relative youth made the Board members uncomfortable. They considered any receptiveness to his new ideas to be an admission of weakness, thus opening themselves up to being replaced by someone they perceived as a hotshot young gun.

"I understand the Board's hesitation to consider the candidate I put forward," said the Commander. If he felt any discomfort beneath the doubtful stares of the Admiralty Board members he didn't show it. The clean, pressed collar of his Eagle Union officer's dress jacket betrayed no signs of perspiration. Most of the Board members, on the other hand, appeared as if they just finished up with a morning jog. Matchless recognized their situation for what it was: a rough spot between a rock and a hard place. If they allowed the Commander his requisition and things went poorly, it would fall on their heads. However, if they denied the Commander's recommendations, he might lack the necessary resources to continue mounting an effective war effort against the growing Siren threat.

Getting to his feet, the Commander stepped around his chair and folded his hands at the small of his back. Bright light poured in through the windows overlooking the port, and when he turned,his bright green eyes shone like opals. The pause, Matchless knew, did not indicate hesitation. Rather, she knew that the Commander liked to set his own pace and let the Board members sweat it out while he collected his thoughts. Like a shark, he circled the table with a slow, pacing gait. No doubt he, too, noticed their sweat-dampened shirt collars.

"Commander Dorian Reese is one of the youngest officers ever to command a warship," the Commander said, breaking the stifling silence. "It is reasonable to conclude that a young officer lacks the experience required to adequately fill the role we require. However, under his command, the USS O'Bannon 02-Production earned seventeen Battle Stars. That would make his vessel tied for third most decorated warship in the war."

"Yet his service record speaks to a man both impulsive and careless," said one of the Royal Navy admirals, interrupting the Commander before he could continue. The Commander took the response in stride, never so much as batting an eye.

"Thank you, Admiral Stafford, for bringing me to my next point," the Commander said, continuing to pace around the table. "Commander Resse's service record is rife with resourcefulness, strategic intelligence, and most of all, fearlessness in the face of hopeless odds."

The Commander turned his head towards the table and regarded the Board members one at a time, gauging their reaction to his claims. Several of them exchanged uncertain glances, and their loss of balance spurred the Commander onward.

"On the 02-O'Bannon's approach to Guadalcanal, Reese's crew spotted a surfaced enemy submarine. Rather than flee and avoid the risk of the sub diving to hunt them, Reese ordered his crew to open fire on the target in order to pin down the sub and keep it from engaging the lightly defended convoy scheduled to make its way through," the Commander said.

Some of the Board members appeared as if they wanted to interject, but the Commander continued without allowing them the opportunity.

"Shortly thereafter, the 02-O'Bannon detected sixteen enemy torpedo bombers on the way to intercept transport ships resupplying allied troops. Reese placed his ship between the bombers and transports, and with the help of anti-aircraft fire from Resse's production model O'Bannon, eleven of the torpedo bombers were shot down. The transports were saved," the Commander said, and pressed on. He suspected that so long as he kept up his momentum they would not interrupt.

"In a battle over the Ironbottom Sound, Reese and the 02-O'Bannon, as part of a small task force, engaged an enemy fleet superior both in number and firepower. Battle reports indicate that the 02-O'Bannon steamed towards the enemy flagship at full speed, guns blazing, until it drew so close to the enemy that their cannons could not depress low enough to fire on them. Incidentally, this saved the 02-O'Bannon from being among those allied ships lost during the battle. Reese's actions are directly responsible for the sinking of the enemy flagship and the routing of the enemy fleet. This saved Henderson Airfield, which allowed their aviators to stop enemy reinforcements landing the next day."

The Commander stopped pacing at the chair he abandoned and rolled it away from the table. Leaning in, he planted both hands flat on the surface and continued to list the accolades of Commander Reese. He met each admiral's eyes as he swept the Board with his fierce green gaze.

"At the Battle of Kula Gulf, Reese led three cruisers and three other destroyers to victory against an enemy assault of ten destroyers. A week later, at the Battle of Kolombangara, the 02-O'Bannon fought alongside the same force to defeat an enemy cruiser, five destroyers, and four destroyer escorts-going so far as to sink the enemy cruiser before routing the other ships."

Meeting the eyes of an admiral dressed in a Sakura Empire uniform, the Commander held the older man's gaze as he presented his final argument.

"Then, of course, there is the Battle of Vella Lavella," the Commander said. He watched the imperial admiral's eyes harden, a storm gathering behind them. "Admiral Atsui, would you like to shed some light on the events of the battle? You can attest to the actions of the 02-O'Bannon better than anyone having been there to witness them for yourself."

The Sakura admiral, thrown off by the sudden shift of attention to him, frowned hard at the Commander. Several of the Eagle Union and Royal Navy admirals shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Though all the nations involved in the World War came together in its aftermath, the subject of various victories and defeats still caused friction between them. Atsui sighed, frustrated at having been put on the spot. Leaning forward, he folded his hands on the tabletop.

"Two dozen small gunboats, eight production model destroyers, and two non-production destroyers formed a task force to relieve imperial troops on the island," Atsui said, surprising several of the admirals at the table. "As we neared the island and prepared to mobilize, we detected three Eagle Union destroyers on the horizon. Rather than fleeing or maintaining their distance, the three destroyers charged at full steam towards us." The imperial admiral peeled his eyes away from the Commander and swiveled in his chair to look out the window. "We failed to take them as seriously as we should have."

Another deep sigh escaped Atsui. He closed his eyes and related the events of the battle to the rest of the Admiralty Board.

"They set upon us so quickly that we lost Yūgumo in the first few moments of the engagement. She never even saw the torpedoes coming. Nothing remained after the blast except a few scraps of her rigging. They didn't stop, closing the distance until they were in our midst and firing in all directions with everything they had. The other two ships were fearsome, but the 02-O'Bannon was a true monster." Atsui opened his eyes, though the memories lingered there like a fog of cannon smoke and burning oil. "The ship moved through our position avoiding everything we threw at it and exploiting every weakness it found along the way. The longer we fought, the more cracks formed in our defense. Like a shark, the O'Bannon pursued the scent of blood in the water." Atsui rubbed at grit of weariness that settled in his eyes while recounting the battle that almost claimed his life. "We only managed to stop the attack through a stroke of luck. One of the other attacking destroyers took a torpedo and crashed into the 02-O'Bannon which had been close astern to the damaged ship."

The Commander's eyes flashed, and Matchless knew at that moment that the tables had turned. Her little heart swelled with pride for her Commander, and she felt a pang of guilt for having doubted him in the first place. Nobody could defeat the Commander!

"This is exactly the kind of officer we need in our production fleet," the Commander said. "Someone with an instinct for battle and the drive to overcome the odds. We're fighting an enemy that studies us and learns from our doctrine. If we hope to overcome the Sirens, we must direct our efforts toward adaptability over convention." The Commander stood up straight and folded his hands at the small of his back again. "We need someone capable of discerning and exploiting the enemy's weaknesses as they present themselves."

An unexpected smile spread across the Commander's face. A handsome smile. A knowing smile. He had them right where he wanted them.

"We need a shark hunting for blood in the water." The Commander's smile widened into a confident grin. Matchless felt warmth spread through her cheeks as she watched her leader revel in the speechlessness of his superiors.

*;*;*

The rest of the meeting left Matchless feeling bored, no small feat considering the anxiety she endured during the first half of the meeting. Discussion about budgets, supply lines, research, and other such tedious topics left the destroyer girl spacing out. She snapped out of it when the Admiralty Board concluded their business and started to leave. Matchless pulled open the door and held it for them while wearing a practiced and perfectly polite smile. Her usual cheeky grin tended to keep most of her superiors from taking her seriously as the Commander's secretary.

"Good work, Matchless," the Commander said once the last of the Board members departed. "That is a truly professional smile you have there." He grinned at her, and the destroyer girl's cheeks reddened again..

"It's only because you taught me so well!" She exclaimed a little louder than she meant to-which, of course, only deepened the shade of red creeping across her face. "You're always protecting me, Commander. Even if it's just from ridicule!"

"Oh, come now," said the Commander. He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Everyone needs a little help from time time time. You are more than capable on your own merit, never doubt yourself." When Matchless did not appear convinced he added: "Would I have made you my secretary if I thought you incompetent or incapable?"

The ship girl mulled that over for a second, brow furrowing in contemplation. On one hand, she never felt very capable in her own right. On the other hand, she trusted the Commander's judgment without exception.

"I guess not," Matchless said, settling for hesitant acceptance of the Commander's assessment.

The pair of them left the conference room with the Commander leading the way, and Matchless followed along beside him. Together. they made their way back towards the Commander's office. They passed many members of the port's support staff along the way, and the Commander greeted each one by name. The destroyer girl never understood how he kept all that information straight in his head. She felt lucky just to remember the names of all the other ship girls in the Joint Fleet!

Stopping in front of his office door, the Commander produced a keycard from his pocket and swiped it through the card reader mounted on the door's frame. It beeped a cheerful note and the lock clicked open. Matchless opened the door for the Commander, who thanked her before stepping inside.

"You really showed the Board today, right Commander?" Matchless asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. "Proved them all wrong!" Adoration radiated from her like light from a star. It made the Commander chuckle.

In the past, Matchless thought the Commander was laughing at her instead of with her. She felt certain that, like everyone else, the Commander wasn't taking her seriously. On one particular occasion, the Commander's laugh hurt her feelings so much that she fled back to the Royal Navy dormitories and hid in her room. He appeared at her dorm not long after and insisted that she explain what had happened to send her scurrying off.

So, the destroyer girl told the Commander her reason for running away. Matchless remembered the look of guilt that creased his features when she finished. He told her that he felt ashamed for not having noticed the distress he caused Matchless.. The chuckling and laughter did not come at her expense, he explained. Despite being a ship girl-a wielder of powerful weapons of technological anomaly-she had a habit of reminding him that she was still a person. He found her human quirks endearing, and it ensured that he never forgot his responsibility to all of the ship girls. They were soldiers, not weapons.

From that moment on, Matchless knew the Commander would be the protector she sought. The protector she needed.

"They weren't wrong, Matchless," the Commander said. The sound of his voice snapped Matchless back from her reverie. She blinked at him, a blank look on her face.

"Huh?"

"They have valid concerns about my candidate for the open Production Fleet officer," the Commander repeated. "He appears to be impulsive and rather reckless. If not handled correctly, he could very well prove to be a dangerous liability to the GPC Joint fleet."

"Commander, I don't understand," the destroyer girl said, brows knitting together. "Why did you fight to have him transferred here, then?"

Moving around to the back of his desk, the Commander pulled open the top left drawer and retrieved a twin pack of chocolate chip cookies. The foil packaging crinkled as he peeled it open at the seam and held it out towards Matchless. Every night since the misunderstanding with her, the Commander shared a twin pack of chocolate chip cookies from his personal stash with the destroyer girl; she ate one, and he ate one. A small, simple gesture that meant the world to Matchless.

She took her cookie from the pack and uttered a shy word of thanks before nibbling on her sweet treat. Her bright violet eyes never left the Commander, though. Matchless waited expectantly for him to elaborate on his decision to recruit Commander Reese.

"Because if we do handle him correctly-if we guide him in the right direction and cultivate the right mindset, he could be an exceptional asset," the Commander said. A confident grin lit up his face, and he met his secretary's gaze with eyes that made it difficult to doubt his judgement. She would have sailed out to meet the Sirens all by herself if the Commander looked at her like that and asked it of her.

Matchless could see the five o'clock shadow creeping along his jawline in the fading light of sunset that spilled through the found that some stubble or a short, scrubby beard suited the Commander better than a clean shave. Whenever he spent time out to sea, he came back with untidy facial hair on the cusp of becoming a true beard adorning his squared jaw and ever-so-slightly rounded cheeks. Matchless thought it gave him a handsome, roguish look that she may or may not have fantasized about at her desk on slow paperwork days.

"How do we do that?" She asked, making a conscious effort to stop daydreaming about the way the golden light of dusk highlighted the contours of his face.

"We take someone else on the opposite end of the spectrum, someone disciplined and inflexible, and make them work together in the hopes they will meet somewhere in the middle," the Commander said, pulling his own cookie from the foil. He discarded the empty package into the wastebasket beside his desk without looking.

"Did you already have someone in mind, Commander?" Matchless asked, sounding uncertain. Sure, it sounded simple when put like that, but she understood enough to know that the nuances of a working relationship were complex. The outcome of such arrangements were impossible to predict with any certainty, weren't they?

"I had a few thoughts regarding the matter," the Commander said, speaking in an innocent tone that didn't fool the destroyer girl for a second. His confident smile returned; the same smile he wore when he had the Admiralty Board right where he wanted them. The smile of a shark catching the scent of blood in the water.

"Tell me," the commander said, pausing to take a bite of his cookie. He took the time to chew and swallow before finishing the thought. "Have you seen Takao lately?"

Author Note: Hello, and thanks for reading the first chapter of my Azur Lane story. I noticed that the fandom is looking a bit thin in terms of fanfiction, and so decided to try my hand at it. I suspect the reason (or one of the reasons, anyway) for the lack of Azur Lane fanfic is the sheer amount of holes in the lore. For the purposes of this story, I will do my best to fill in those gaps where I can in a way I feel is most logical to the setting. Given how small this fandom is, I am always open to feedback and suggestions from my readers. If you would like to see a particular ship girl make an appearance, go ahead and make a request!

On the off chance that you are one of my Bloodborne readers, hang in there! Your patience will be rewarded soon!