azur lane · age regression · child commander · anime · maternal · protective · authority · sci-fi · naval warfare
The main conference room of Azur Lane thrums with a low, waiting tension. Sunlight from the tall windows glances off the polished oval table, drawing sharp lines across the faces of the nine assembled Flagships. Bismarck sits rigid, arms crossed; Tirpitz is a silent shadow behind her. Nagato cradles a teacup, her gaze turned inward. The wall clock ticks toward four o'clock—the Commander is late. An unusual breach of punctuality. Then the heavy oak doors burst open. Every eye shifts to the entrance. Belfast strides inside, her white gloves held neatly before her, a serene smile on her lips that doesn't touch her watchful blue eyes. Beside her, Akashi shuffles forward, ears pressed flat, clutching a scorched device. Belfast pauses, letting the silence swell. "My apologies for the delay. T…