Chapter 218: No, It

Operations Director Suzuki Kantaro couldn't help but speak up: "Minister, this amounts to voluntarily relinquishing sea control…"

"Do we still have sea control to give up?" Yamamoto retorted coldly. "Suzuki, tell me, what do we have now to contest sea control against Lanfang's four Bismarck Class ships? The Katori? The Mikasa? Or those antiquated pre‑dreadnoughts that can't make 20 knots?"

Suzuki opened his mouth, then finally hung his head in dejection.

"Second," Yamamoto continued, "immediately inventory all remaining resources. Shipyards, factories, warehouses, schools—every naval facility and asset—register them all. I need to know what we still have and what we can still do."

The General Affairs Director nodded immediately: "We're already on it, Minister. Preliminary figures show the four major naval factories at Wu, Yokosuka, Sasebo, and Maizuru are essentially intact, though some equipment is outdated. The Naval Academy and Naval University are operating normally, but the cadets' morale…"

"I'll handle the morale issue," Yamamoto cut in. "Third, and most important—preserve talent. All experienced officers, technical officers, engineers, and skilled workers are to be placed on a protection list. These people are the navy's future spark; not a single one may be lost."

He paused, his gaze sweeping every person present: "I know these words sound bleak. But we must face reality: in the short term the navy cannot fight further. What we need isn't to fantasize about miracles, but to safeguard the foundation and wait for the right moment."

"Wait for what moment?" Military Orders Director Shimada Shigetarou asked bitterly, "Will Lanfang give us time? Their battleships are just outside…"

"That's why they need more time," Yamamoto said calmly. "The four Bismarck Class ships are powerful, but few in number. Lanfang wants to control the South Ocean and respond to the European upheaval; they cannot devote all their forces to Japan. As long as we show enough… threat without forcing them into a full‑scale invasion, they'll opt for negotiations rather than a landing."

"Threat?" Intelligence Director Yamamoto Eiki asked, puzzled, "What threat do we have now?"

"We have the army," Yamamoto said, his face showing no emotion. "Seventeen divisions, 500,000 standing troops, plus a million reservists after mobilization. If Lanfang wants to land on the Japanese home islands, they must face this force. And they… lack sufficient ground troops."

He returned to his desk and sat down: "So the upcoming strategy is clear: the navy preserves strength, avoids decisive battle. The army displays power to deter landings. Diplomacy seeks contact, probing negotiations. A trinity, buying time."

The officials exchanged uneasy glances. The strategy sounded reasonable, yet it concealed a harsh truth: the navy had already been demoted to a supporting role, even… a sacrificial pawn.

"Minister," Shimada Shigetarou finally could not hold back, "what about the navy's future…"

"The navy's future hinges on the empire's future," Yamamoto interrupted, "If the empire can survive this crisis, the navy will have a future. If the empire falls… then nothing matters."

He glanced at the clock on the wall: "Everyone, get to work. I want a detailed defensive deployment plan and resource list before tonight."

"Yes!"

The officials filed out one by one. In the end only Yamamoto Gonbei remained, sitting alone in the empty office.

He opened a drawer, finding a document left by Yatsushiro Rokuro. He turned to the first page, which bore a single line: "The defeat in this battle is not due to unbrave soldiers nor weak warships, but the failure of the era."

Yamamoto closed the document and shut his eyes.

The failure of the era. Well put.

But a loss is a loss. History won't change its outcome because of your reasons.

When he opened his eyes again, only resolve remained in them. No matter how hard, no matter how humiliating, he must lead the navy onward.

Because he is Yamamoto Gonbei. Because the navy… still needs him.

Wu Port Naval Base, 3 p. m.

The rain had stopped, yet the sky remained overcast. Inside Wu Port, a dozen warships lay quietly at the docks: the battleship Katori, the battleship Kashima, the battleship Aki, and the older vessels Fushima, Asahi, Mikasa…

These steel leviathans that once symbolized the empire's naval glory now appeared especially aged and desolate.

On the pier, sailors were busy—not preparing for battle, but offloading—removing unnecessary equipment and supplies from the ships to lighten them, ready for immediate evacuation.

"Move faster! The commander orders all nonessential supplies be transferred to the shore warehouses!" a Major shouted, his voice laced with restrained agitation.

"Sir, do we also have to move these shells?" a young sailor asked, pointing at the pile of 305‑mm shells stacked like a small hill.

"Move them! All of them! We won't need them anyway!" the Major roared, then realized what he'd said, his face turning pale as he turned and walked away.

The young sailor stood there dumbfounded, staring at the yellowish shells. "We won't need them." The words cut like a knife into every navy officer's heart.

In the distance, on the bridge of the Katori, Captain Ijuin Shoji stood by the window, silently watching the harbor. He was a fifty‑year‑old veteran, having fought in the Russo‑Japanese War, commanded cruisers and destroyers, and only two years ago took command of the Katori.

He had thought this was the pinnacle of his career, only to find it became the end.

"Captain," the Executive Officer entered, his face grim, "We just received orders: all vessels must be ready to depart at a moment's notice, but the destination isn't the open sea—it's the Seto Inland Sea."

Ijuin Shoji nodded, unsurprised: "We're retreating."

"But…" the Executive Officer clenched his fists, "Just retreat like that? The grudges of our brothers in the East Sea…"

"Revenge?" Ijuin turned, looking at the thirty‑something executive. "With what? The old 1906‑launched Katori? These short‑range 18‑kilometre guns? Or our tactics that sink the enemy before they even see us?"

The Executive Officer was speechless.

"Kobayashi," Ijuin's voice softened, "I know you're unwilling to accept this. I'm unwilling too. But the reality is we've already lost. What we can do now isn't to die, but to survive. Preserve these ships, preserve these men, and wait for a future… perhaps when an opportunity arises."

"Will there ever be another chance?" the Executive Officer muttered.

Ijuin gave no answer, for he himself did not know.

At that moment, the port's alarm suddenly sounded a mournful wail!

"Artillery? No, it's a submarine alert!" shouted the lookout tower.

Ijuin rushed to the portside window and saw several white torpedo wakes streaking rapidly across the sea toward the harbor! The targets were the three Tenryu‑class light cruisers under repair beside the dock—Ryuta, Tenryu, and Yubari!