Iron-Blooded Pickup King

"... Guten Tag (hello), Commander. I am Z23. Let us study together and strive for the summit." Leaping out of the construction cube, Z-23 followed a shipgirl's instincts and pledged her loyalty to the man who had summoned her into this world. However, the hulking man before her showed no reaction to the dignified, solemn entrance speech she had spent so long planning during construction. After a brief silence, he greeted the girl with a question instead.

"Red or blue?"

"Huh, what?"

Looking at the burly man before her, dressed in a sailor shirt and cap, his massive frame almost blotting out the sun, the normally composed Z-23's mind briefly shut down.

"R-Red?" Having once belonged to the Crimson Axis, she chose that color almost instinctively.

"Excellent. You are a qualified comrade." The burly man looked slightly relieved. He grabbed Z-23's hand and gave it a firm shake before she could refuse.

"Allow me to introduce myself. From the great Soviet Union, Plan 24: the Kirov-class battleship Kremlin, reporting for duty."