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Kansen dueling is a common activity. Settling disagreements, testing strengths, or simple having a friendly dual between friends – it is a respected action of willing parties to fight each other. Normally regulated to exercises, all girls are subjected to kansen on kansen fighting. Dueling on the other hand, is a popular sport like event for the physically active and combat fueled girls. Rules are clear, approved by their commanders and nations, with a general guideline to all those willing.
One rule stood among them all: three shots would end the dual or if a side concedes to the other.
Today is one of those days, a spar between battleships of old.
Out in an open area of water, calm waves are warmed by the noon sun. Breaking across the stilled scenery, a pair of skates moves gracefully. Deep into the summers off the shores of the Hawaiian Islands, two figures are seen circling around each other. Stopping and splashing upwards, speeding faster into ocean mist cooling her body. Not like she needed it.
Maryland's scarlet-colored eyes glow faintly against the brightened backdrop of the wide seas. A wicked smile plasters her face, she whips her pony behind her, its wet tip splashes droplets on her active rigging. Sizzling as the drop lands on the heated barrels, having just fired a salvo to begin, there's a controlled impatience as she loads her sixteen-inch guns.
This is little concern to her, being a normal nuisance in the cacophony of noise. Instead, she locks eyes on a blond-haired counterpart of her own. Squaring off, she bears her turrets, hearing the clicking of shells and the endless dip of their legs into the water. Disturbed waves wet her water-resistant leggings, soaked, the weight of the cloth didn’t stop her from sailing the ocean blue.
"Good shot, Tennessee," Maryland shouts back, still grinning, "I'm still standing!"
Smirking, her opponent shoots a glare back. Excited behind her confident stare, Tennessee tugs her gloves before cracking her knuckles, "Show me whatcha got!"
They both back away, creating a respectable distance where they can aim their guns without risking close quarter injury, the two pause to observe the other.
A friendly dual between battleships, one arranged by Maryland herself, itching for a good fight. Not in the ring with boxing gloves or testing one’s stamina in a course, but a real honest established dual of warships. Tennessee accepted without question, relishing in the exercise and the recent initial shots made to signify the beginning to their spar.
Without hesitation, Maryland lets loose a volley of dummy rounds. Unique ammunition created, still lethal to normal humans, it is a more dangerous form of paint ball shots for the humanized ships. Specifically designed not to break skin, a lucky shot can still leave a kansen with bruises or soreness for the next morning. Either way, both of them relish the simple reality of sparring in combat.
Eyes illuminate, the deep heated sun enhances her glare. ‘Fighting Mary’ sails sideways, narrowly missing the three shots sent back. Counting the rounds penetrating the water, she looks up in time to see three more arrive to hit her.
Criss crossing, the first shot flies over. Scraping the surface of her main battery. Green paint breaks through the round, splashing over the barrels. The second-round misses completely going under her left arm, the waters swallowing it whole. But the third round takes its mark.
Slamming into her right shoulder, Maryland staggers. Feeling her collar bone sting, she flicks the debris off. Not minding the hit, the pain reinvigorates her. Before she makes her next move, Maryland spits out tiny smatterings of paint for some have unfortunately landed on her mouth. Shaking off the bitter taste, she refocuses, feeling the adrenaline propel her mind and muscles.
Looking up in time, she sees the distant image of the blond. Squinting, she has trouble seeing whether her hits made their marks. On the other hand, the blond wipes away a connected hit on her leg. Purple paint evident over the year of ‘1919’ sown into her legging. Nodding wordlessly, she steps back with a fading limp in her movements. Charging backwards, she lets her guns another time, buying her time to load her remaining battery – for her other one jams in the worst of moments.
Thankfully for Tennessee, Maryland sails forward unaware of the situation, but her time to get her turret working is in jeopardy. Thus, seeing her options she prioritizes accuracy over speed, using her upgraded systems to guide her hastily prepared round. Increasing her distance, Tennessee stares defiantly, preparing for her next shot – Maryland welcomes it, spacing her legs to give her time to maneuver.
Booming cracks shake the waters, and steeling her aim, fires directly for Maryland’s midsection. Sidestepping in anticipation of the redhead’s next move, she quickly fires her second shell, using her. Guessing correctly, it finds itself marking Maryland’s other shoulder. Slow, and nowhere near deterred, she adjusts her gear. Using her internal system to reduce the inaccuracy and the two make their last shots-
“Damn that was a good one.”
Sitting on a wooden bench, Maryland rubs her shoulders, commenting to a nearby Tennessee. She too ran her fingers over her sore legs. Two towels in hand, she waves at her recent opponent, tossing it into her grasp. Drying themselves of the paint left behind on their clothes, while not removing the marks, it did get rid of the messier parts. Fresh out of the showers, Tennessee is still drying her hair.
“My armor may be upgraded,” Tennessee starts, “But I still need calibrate my guns more. Not sure what happened with the last shot. Really anticlimactic when your whole gun battery blows up in your face."
“Same,” Maryland points to an empty spot behind her. Sitting at a trash can is plenty of purple and green paint towels, “I wished they didn’t jam so much. Still, its nice to get a good clean fair fight every now and again.”
An idea crosses one of their minds, “Think we may have loaded faulty supplies? Rumors going around by the girls some of the Manjuu had to get rid of a messed up shipment. Heard they were waterlogged.”
“Nice to know now,” Maryland worked her jaw side to side, “Huh, those shoulder shots hurt like hell.”
“Had to aim somewhere, you were fuming the last time my shots landed on your legs. I'm was trying to aim higher.”
Rolling her eyes, Maryland snorts, “Yeah, that’s because those rounds tore up my last pair. Speaking of which, sorry about yours.”
Touching her bare legs, Tennessee picked up her left one. A tear going up the side, some pieces dangling off my threads.
“Clothes can be repaired and replaced. They’re temporary.” she shrugs, “I’m more worried about your jacket. I’m really sorry about those shoulder hits. You shrugged them off really well.”
Smiling, she waves away her concern, “Hey, if you think the same, then let’s call it even. I’ve been meaning to test out this new ‘sowing’ skill Colorado’s been trying to get me to do. Comes in real handy when I keep ruining clothes.”
Newfound understanding graces the older ship, “Sure, sure. Hey, do you think we can improve our engines? This new hull armor upgrade is fine, fire control system works like a dream. Still don’t know why we can’t go any faster.”
Sharing the same thoughts, Maryland nods her head vigorously, “Right? I guess it’s the curse of being standard type. Us older battleships can’t really match a lot of the new ones out there.”
“Yeah…” Tennessee sighs, shaking away the damper in their moods, she pulls up her new pair of stockings, “Want to grab a bite at the canteen? I’m curious about who’s running it today.”
A split-second moment of shock passes over Maryland, and she tries to hide it.
“What? You know who it is?”
“Err,” Maryland scratches her neck, having to wear a leather jacket in place of her usual one, “Its Vestal.”
“…ah.”
Thankfully, the redhead perks up, remembering something in the back of her mind, “Say, Colorado and West Virginia should be off today. Care to tag along with us to this new burger joint? It's close to the base and I heard they came out from the mainland, and I’ve been meaning to try them out.”
“Sure, mind if I invite California?”
“Don't mind at all,” Maryland lifts a balled fist, “Great duel today. I really like battling you. Its nice to find someone who takes to the battlefield as much as I do.”
Bumping her own fist, the two head out the locker rooms, Tennessee smirks, “Sure, I’m always looking for a great challenge. Win or lose, I don’t mind duking it out. Once we get our stuff worked out, wanna try again sometime next week? Same time?”
“Hell yeah.”