Now she knew how an ant felt. Standing along the port side railing aboard the freighter Kaname, Yumiko looked out across the sea of jet black pilotka hats as they streamed single file down the gangplank and onto the pier below. Girls. Every one of them, unmarried daughters, sixteen to eighteen years of age, seemingly from every city, town and village spread across the southern coast of Honshu, the main island. Short, tall, thin, overweight, dark hair, dyed hair, short hair, long hair, nylons or stockings, the stream of otherwise uniform girls shuffled along at a snail's pace. There seemed to be no leader to the exodus off the Kaname, instead each simply followed the one in front of her. But to where?

Yumiko raised a hand to shield her eyes from the morning sun as she swept her gaze along the black and tan line that snaked down from the gangplank, between rows of stacked crates, and finally into a large corrugated metal warehouse. Young male dockworkers looked on from their positions across the pier, likely not having seen so many well starched, uniformly dressed young women at one time in their lives. That many girls at once must have been intimidating because none appeared willing to approach the line. Well that, and the sporadic military policeman that patrolled up and down the column, making sure no father would be shamed.

"I think we should hold hands," Yumiko said softly, turning to face Tori and Tsubasa, still finding it difficult to talk to either of them after what happened in the Director’s office. "That way we don't get separated."

"Eeh? What are we, seven?" Tsubasa rolled her eyes and looked away. She never offered any explanation to the events and Yumiko felt it was her place not to ask.

"T-they must have got my measurements wrong," Tori whimpered, turning around slowly as she examined the bagginess of her uniform. She held up her hands, the wrists of her long sleeves up to her knuckles. Tori seemed to be her usual self, oblivious to the other day.

"They're machine made uniforms. I told you, extra extra small is the best they had. They don't make doll sized."

"I-I'm not a doll," Tori squeaked up at Tsubasa, wagging a finger. "I'm just vertically challenged!"

"Oh yeah?" Tsubasa took Tori's oversized pilotka and pulled it down over her eyes.

"H-h-hey!"

"Bite sized," she teased. "Nom nom nom!" Her fingers started tickling at Tori's underarms as the tiny teenager reached up to adjust her cap. Tori squealed and twisted away abruptly.

Now who was acting seven? Yumiko bent to grab her sea bag, hefting the carrying strap over her right shoulder. The weight of all her possessions made her tilt to one side as she headed towards the gangplank. "Come on you two."