Fanfiction short stories 主に艦これ 作：Fry-Hopper
ージャスラックロックがないので全文を翻訳サイトにコピペ可
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グラマリーが文法と単語だけみてくれてた前文の作品を
Lifetime契約したChatArtで使わないと損だから小説にさせて再投下。
折角なので微調整してない。（チャプター７どっから来たの？）
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AIがほぼ代筆したのに
ああ、艦これってこういうもんだわって
感動させられてちょっと悔しいのだわ。
続きも気になるしぐぬぬ。。。
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Chapter 7: Supper at the Edge of the World
The clang of metal trays and the low hum of hungry voices filled the chow hall, echoing against the battered steel walls of Yokosuka Base. Outside, the sea was black and silent, as if the Abyssal Fleet’s shadow had swallowed the horizon. But inside, the scent of curry and rice, faint but unmistakable, drifted through the air—a rare comfort in these lean days.
Akagi was the first to notice. She sat upright, her long ponytail swishing behind her, eyes shining with anticipation. She sniffed the air like a fox on the hunt, then grinned, her cheeks flushing with delight.
“It’s mealtime! Supper’s ready, Sir!” she declared, turning to the admiral with a triumphant smile.
Admiral Minase, a man whose face bore the map of too many sleepless nights, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Akagi… do you realize what you’re saying?”
“Yap!” she chirped, already halfway out of her seat. “I can smell the curry from here!”
He sighed, waving her away. “Go ahead, ma’am. Go ahead. I don’t care.”
She was gone before he finished speaking, a blur of red and white darting down the corridor. The other ship-girls exchanged glances—some amused, some exasperated.
Oyodo, ever the disciplinarian, adjusted her glasses and glared after Akagi. “Honestly. She’s like a child.”
“Or a wild animal,” muttered Ashigara, cracking her knuckles. “She’d eat the whole kitchen if we let her.”
But the mood was lighter than it had been in weeks. Supplies were low, the Abyssals pressed them on every front, and yet… tonight, there was curry.
In the corner, a girl with silver hair and an impish grin—Shimakaze—leaned over to her friend, Inazuma. “Race you to the chow hall?”
Inazuma shook her head, her twin braids bouncing. “No running in the corridors, Shimakaze-chan! Oyodo-san will get mad!”
Shimakaze stuck out her tongue. “She’s always mad.”
Meanwhile, back at the meeting room, the admiral’s gaze swept over the assembled faces. He counted, lips moving silently. Someone was missing.
“Where’s I-168?” he asked, frowning.
The sub-girls exchanged uneasy glances. I-168, the most reliable of the submarines, had been dispatched on a long-range mission days ago. No one had heard from her since.
Oyodo’s voice was tight. “She’s… still out there, sir. Last report said she was shadowing an Abyssal convoy near the trench.”
A heavy silence settled. The admiral nodded, his jaw clenched.
“Sorry, everyone. All of you must go and support our ally’s unloading. And, please forgive her. That’s almost all my fault.” His voice was soft, but the weight of command pressed every word into their hearts.
The sub-girls saluted and filed out, their faces set. The rest of the fleet—destroyers, cruisers, carriers—followed Akagi’s trail to the chow hall, their footsteps echoing in the empty corridors.
***
The chow hall was a patchwork of laughter and tension. Tables were crowded with ship-girls in various states of uniform—some immaculate, others stained with oil and sweat. At the far end, Akagi had already claimed her spot, a mountain of rice and curry before her.
Zuikaku, her twin tails bouncing, jabbed a chopstick at Kaga. “Hey, pass me the soy sauce.”
Kaga, ever serene, met her gaze with a cool smile. “What’s the magic word, Zuikaku?”
Zuikaku’s eyes narrowed. “Shut your mouth, older one. Don’t make fun of me, got it?”
Kaga’s composure cracked. She struck the table with her palm, the plates rattling. “I got angry. Shame on you!”
Zuikaku spat out a meat bone and rose to her feet, fists clenched. “Huh, you SOB. Come OoOOooon!”
The room tensed. The carrier-girls squared off, eyes blazing.
Shokaku, always the peacemaker, slid between them, her smile gentle but firm. “Now, now. Let’s not fight on an empty stomach, shall we?”
Akagi, oblivious to the brewing storm, shoveled another spoonful of curry into her mouth, humming contentedly.
Shokaku poured her a cup of green tea. “How do you do? Would you like some more green tea?”
Akagi beamed. “Yes, please!”
People whispered that if you interrupted Akagi’s meal, you risked losing a hand—or worse. Only her trainer, the stoic Hiryuu, could calm her when the hunger took hold. But tonight, Hiryuu was on patrol, and Shokaku alone stood between Akagi and culinary disaster.
At that moment, the doors banged open. Oyodo strode in, her clipboard clutched like a shield.
“Listen up, people!” Her voice cut through the noise. Instantly, the ship-girls snapped to attention, chopsticks frozen mid-air.
Admiral Minase entered, his cap tucked under his arm. He paused in the center of the hall, surveying his fleet.
“Thank you, Oyodo. And, get comfortable, girls.”
Oyodo nodded. “That’s my pleasure.”
The admiral cleared his throat. “Ahem… First of all, thank you for your recent efforts. This naval station is—”
A sudden crash interrupted him. Zuikaku and Kaga had toppled a tray, curry splattering across the floor.
Kaga glared. “Watch where you’re swinging those tails, brat!”
Zuikaku shot back, “Maybe if you weren’t so stiff, you’d dodge faster!”
The admiral raised an eyebrow. “Ladies, please. There’s enough curry for everyone—barely.”
A ripple of laughter eased the tension. Even Kaga managed a reluctant smile.
He continued, “As I was saying. We’ve held the Abyssals at bay for another week. Our supply lines are thin, but thanks to your efforts, we’ve prevented three enemy assaults. I-168 is still out there, buying us time.”
Akagi paused, spoon halfway to her mouth. A shadow flickered across her face.
Shokaku noticed. “Are you worried about her?”
Akagi nodded, her voice small. “She’s always the first to volunteer. I wish she’d come back soon.”
Shokaku squeezed her hand. “She will. She always does.”
The admiral’s voice was steady, but his eyes were tired. “We can’t afford to lose hope. Every one of you matters. Tonight, we eat together. Tomorrow, we fight together.”
A cheer rose from the tables. Even the destroyers, usually so shy, joined in.
Suddenly, the lights flickered. The room fell silent.
A klaxon blared—a single, shrill note.
Oyodo’s face paled. “Admiral! Incoming transmission from the outer buoy!”
The admiral strode to the comm panel, the ship-girls crowding behind him.
A voice crackled over the speaker, faint but urgent. “This is I-168… under heavy fire… Abyssal patrol… coordinates—”
The transmission cut off, replaced by static.
Akagi’s chair scraped back. Her eyes blazed. “We have to help her!”
Zuikaku slammed her fist into her palm. “Let’s sortie! I’ll show those Abyssals what a real carrier can do!”
Kaga nodded, her voice cold as steel. “We can’t leave her behind.”
The admiral’s mind raced. Supplies were low. The fleet was tired. But I-168 was family.
He turned to Oyodo. “Sound general quarters. Prepare the fleet for immediate deployment.”
Oyodo saluted, her voice trembling but firm. “Aye, sir!”
The ship-girls scattered, energy crackling in the air. Plates were abandoned, curry forgotten. In minutes, the chow hall was empty, save for the admiral and Shokaku.
Shokaku lingered, gathering up Akagi’s half-eaten meal. She smiled softly. “She’ll need her strength. I’ll pack this for her.”
The admiral nodded, his gaze distant. “Tonight, we fight for one of our own.”
Outside, the sirens wailed. The fleet assembled on the moonlit docks, their silhouettes sharp against the restless sea.
Akagi stood at the front, her eyes fierce, her hunger forgotten.
“Let’s bring her home,” she said.
And the fleet roared in answer, the night trembling with the promise of battle.