Chapter 12: Unknown Suffering

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"So, you're the Oregon who's the mystery ship we heard about, and the one who played the guitar at the music festival. The name sounds...familiar to me, somehow."

"Well, in my world we knew each other pretty well back in the late 1890s and early 1900s. Perhaps some of those memories carried over."

Mikasa sipped her tea. "Interesting. Before we heard about you I thought I would never see any ship from my time period ever again."

Oregon chuckled, but there was little humor behind it. "This body doesn't show it, but I beat even you by a few years. Launched in 1893, while I believe you were '96."

"That would make you older than even me....And Saratoga keeps saying she's the old lady. You certainly have her beat, heh heh." Mikasa was more amused than anything at hearing Oregon's age.

"So, what's it like being in both a similar and dissimilar world?" she continued.

"Aside from feeling---no, scratch that--- knowing that I'm almost completely useless? My best answer would be neutralish."

Mikasa couldn't help but shudder internally at the brief but chilling expression that crossed Oregon's face, but fought it down. "Neutral, hm? How so?"

"I'll get the one advantage over with first: I've been given a second chance. Only God knows how many 'second chances' I've been given over the decades. I'm still not sure whether I deserve this or not, nor whether I can use it to the best of my abilities."

Oregon's expression became sad. "Now we get to the downsides as I see them. And boy do I see many.

"First off, in my old world I was finished. Beached. Washed up. Whatever these kids say nowadays. I was convinced that my life, long as it was, was for almost nothing. I'm helpless as I'm physically shattered to pieces, thanks to a tsunami. Then I wake up in this world and one of the first things I'm asked when I meet friendly people is to help them fight their wars. To say the least, I wasn't and still am not quite happy about that."

"Too hasty for help, huh? I know what that's like."

"There's more."

"No..."

"I've been here for quite a few months now but I feel like I'm only a burden to everyone. I'm never really interested in what the others do, I can comfortably talk with only a few shipgirls here, and my negativity affects everyone around me. Surely you've felt it already."

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't."

"I may not look old to the outside world, but deep down I'm starting to feel it. Even with a retrofit (if you could call it that) I received recently, I cannot escape the early pangs of age. Buried, barely noticeable pains. My guns not being as accurate at they used to be. The few times I've been hurt on this base felt more severe than they were."

Oregon's voice quivered. "I am old, Mikasa. And there's nothing I can do about it."

He was silent for some moments, holding his head in his hands. "Not to mention the nightmares."

"'Nightmares?'"

"They're like theoreticals. What-ifs. They tend to focus on my painful journey around South America and everything that could have possibly gone wrong. The voice of these possibilities has become problematic enough that I wonder if I'm becoming schizophrenic."

As if to confirm his suspicion a harsh, staticky voice not unlike his own filled Oregon's mind, and his vision momentarily became blurred and glitchy.

"U̸̢͚̱͕͌̑s̵̙̥̏ę̷̍̈́̒͑l̵̈́e̷̖̳̹̾̑s̷̙̻̲͈̹̲͆̎͘s̸̬̜͗͗.̷̞͎̔͂̌̿̌͘.̵̱͎̪̈͋̾.̶̺̣̩̝͒̋̈́͛͠"

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