I don't like you, Abukuma; no, really, I don't.
I can't stand it whenever I have to set you as secretary ship
And have you loiter around in my office.
I can't stand seeing your face in any sortie I go.
Your voice when you dish out pain to those Abyssals is annoying.
But—damn it!—why must it be
That your stats and ability would be so heavenly
It's like marrying a rich girl for the money
It's not love, just out of necessity.
So I must let your undesirable character slip
And treat you as a valuable ship.
Be glad, Abukuma, that you are so useful
Else it's the scrapyard, or modernization food.