Chapter 204: All Sunk

He walked to the chart, tapped the current position of the Vajra, and said: "So, as the last old navy commander of this era, what should I do?"

No one dared to answer.

Kato turned around, looking at every face in the command room. These officers were all very young, most under thirty. They should live on, should see tomorrow's sun, should marry and have children, should grow old.

But they wore the Imperial Navy uniform, bearing the Empire's glory.

"I command." Kato's voice suddenly became booming, full of unquestionable authority, "First, all non‑essential personnel, prepare to abandon ship immediately. Wounded first, young people first. Other warships, search for retreat aircraft!"

"Sir!" several officers shouted at once.

"This is an order!" Kato roared, "Second, all personnel still able to fight, hold your positions until the last moment. Main Gun continue firing toward the southeast, even if the Hit Rate is zero. Secondary gun prepare to intercept possible close‑range attacks."

"Third…" he paused, his voice lowered, "I, Kato Tomosaburo, Commander‑in‑Chief of the Combined Fleet, will share the fate of the Vajra. This is not martyrdom, it is… an apology. For my erroneous judgment, for having sacrificed the Empire Navy's most elite force, I apologize."

The command room fell into dead silence. A few young officers began to cry, but were quickly silenced by the older ones.

Major Matsumoto was the first to stand at attention and salute. Then the second, the third…

Kato returned a standard military salute, then waved his hand: "Go. Execute the order."

The officers, with red eyes, began sorting documents, destroying codebooks, preparing to evacuate. Kato walked to the communications desk and sat down.

"Connect the ship‑wide broadcast for me," he said to the communications operator.

The communications operator hesitated: "Sir, the broadcast system might…"

"Try."

The operator worked for a while, nodded: "Connected, but it can only cover part of the area."

"Enough." Kato took the microphone, inhaled deeply.

His voice, through the remaining broadcast system, spread to every corner of the Vajra that could still be heard:

"All crew of the Vajra, I am Kato Tomosaburo."

"At this moment, we are undergoing the most difficult battle since the founding of the Imperial Navy. The enemy is so powerful that we cannot even see them. We have lost the Mist Island, we have lost the Hazelnut Name, and the Wise Comparison is also on the brink of disaster."

"Many will ask: Did we lose? I will say: Yes, tactically we lost. We lost to more advanced technology, stronger firepower, longer range."

"But in spirit, we will never lose."

"From the Tsushima Strait to Pearl Harbor, from the Indian Ocean to the Pacific, the glory of the Imperial Navy is forged by countless warriors like you. Today, we may not be able to leave this sea alive. But our spirit, our courage, our glory will forever be inscribed in the Empire's annals."

"Now, in my capacity as Commander‑in‑Chief of the Combined Fleet, I issue the final order: all wounded and non‑essential combat personnel, prepare to abandon ship immediately. Those still able to fight, join me, fight to the last moment."

"We have not failed. We have merely… taken the first step."

"Your Majesty Tian Huang… Long live."

The broadcast ended. Kato put down the microphone, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

In the engine room, Chief Engineer Onozato heard the broadcast. He smiled and said to the nearby technician: "Did you hear? The commander‑in‑chief wants to die with us."

"We…"

"We will not flee." Onozato said, "What is the engine crew's job? To make the ship move. As long as this ship remains at sea, as long as it can still move, we have no reason to leave our stations."

He glanced at the wound on his leg— the steel pipe had been sawed off, the wound simply bandaged. He leaned against the wall, stood up, and limped toward the control panel.

"Alright, crew," his voice echoed in the engine room, "let's give the Vajra its final strength, let it fight to the last moment like a true samurai."

In the B turret, Yamada Ichiro also heard the broadcast. He wiped the sweat and blood from his face and said to the gun crew: "The commander‑in‑chief said, those still able to fight stay. Those who want to leave may now leave."

No one moved.

Mori Shita was the first to speak: "Gun captain, I won't leave. My parents are in Nagasaki; they know I boarded the Vajra. If I escape today, they will not be able to hold their heads up before the villagers."

"I also will not leave."

"I am as well."

"Stay."

Yamada Ichiro's eyes reddened. He turned, pretended to adjust the sight, and secretly wiped away his tears.

"Alright." his voice a little hoarse, "Then we will fire the last shell. Load! Target southeast, all guns fire simultaneously!"

"Yes!"

Two 356 mm Main Guns roared again. This was the Vajra's final active shot of the day.

Thirty seconds later, a response came.

Not one or two, but thirty‑two 380 mm armor‑piercing shells, flying from 25,000 yards away, like the Grim Reaper's roster, striking each vital point of the Vajra one by one.

The first hit the forward magazine. Although the blast door functioned, preventing a catastrophic explosion, the shockwave killed all the ammunition handlers inside.

The second struck the remaining bridge, completely destroying any possible command capability.

The third, fourth, fifth…

When the eighth shell pierced the Armour Belt and exploded directly above the engine room, Chief Engineer Onozato was pressurizing the boiler. She heard the sound of steel tearing overhead, then the ceiling collapsed.

The last thing she saw was the needle on the boiler pressure gauge, steady on the red line.

"Enough… enough…" he murmured, closing his eyes.

In the B turret, Yamada Ichiro felt the turret tilting, disintegrating. The blast door was blown away, and seawater surged in.

"Brothers…" he could only utter those two words before the seawater flooded the turret.

In the ready command room, Kato Tomosaburo felt the hull sinking rapidly. The tilt exceeded thirty degrees, and everything unsecured was sliding.

Major Matsumoto tried to pull him away: "Sir, we…"

"You may go." Kato said calmly, "This is an order."

"But…"

"This is the final command, Matsumoto," Kato looked at him, his eyes showing no fear, only calm, "Tell the living that we did our best. Tell future generations… to keep up with the times, otherwise it will be like today."

Matsumoto, crying, saluted, turned and rushed out of the command room.

Kato sat alone in his chair, tidied his uniform, straightened his cap. He took a photo frame from a drawer, containing a picture of himself with his wife and son. The photo was taken at the naval residence in Yokosuka; his son, only five, was perched on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "Dad… won't be able to return."

Sea water surged in through the crack in the door, quickly flooding the ankles, knees, and waist…

Kato Tomosaburo closed their eyes, tightly gripping the photo frame in their hand.

At 7:09 a. m., the Vajra battleship, flagship of the Combined Fleet, sank in the sea at 125°02′ E, 28°49′ N.

Below the captain, 1,247 officers and soldiers, only eighty‑nine survived.

Four of the Imperial Navy's most elite Vajra‑class battlecruisers were completely wiped out within thirty minutes.

And until the moment they sank, they didn't even see the enemy's shadow.