Jeder und Panzer

Disclaimer: I own nothing in this piece of fiction, save for the overarching plot

Bella la Pioggia

"The path of Devotion, especially to the ones you love, is a great labour. To mar it, is to mar oneself." -Edward Prydwen, tank commander

It always rained when Anzio's team lost.

The Italian-themed team had dabbled in financial difficulty every so often, with the most recent spate having resulted in the temporary closure of the Sensha-do team for a few months, having occurred some five years back, when you were a young boy whose father happened to own an Italian tank on his farm. Of course, he had left the homeland for a year or so, taking you with him so that the farm wouldn't be missing its prize workers. During that year, he trained the team to utilise their tanks to the best of their capabilities. You also agreed to stay in his stead during that year, and he had entrusted the tank to you. When he returned, he'd left you there to watch over his tank, with enough money to last a full three months, a laptop with Skype, and your uncle Nicodemus.

It was also the year you'd met her.

Anchovy, as Chiyomi Anzai calls herself, was always the boisterous sort of person, but you know she regards her friends with the highest amount of respect and kinship one could ever want. Even so, if she felt she was hurt by something, be it verbal or physical, she would lash out for a brief time, breaking into a degenerative rage before hurriedly apologising to everyone she'd hurt and, normally, blamed herself for everything and did so in a fashion that she effectively shut down almost entirely to the outside world. As a result of you considering yourself a friend, you took it upon yourself to try snap her out of these funks she frequently fell into.

The fact remained, though, that you always had to hold the umbrella.

Even as the rain pours down into the central portion of Anzio 'city', which were in truth large towns separated by stretches of open land, you find yourself wondering whether the Aquila-class ship would face the rumoured fate of Oarai - threatened with closure, at least according to the rumours. The ship had been your home for five - nearly six - years, and in turn the focal point in life, outside of the many Skype calls you share with your family and friends. On occasion they even come over to the ship during their holidays for a few days, your family even spending entire holiday seasons on the ship, much to both your joy and chagrin. Given the fact that you were in charge of the three-man Fiat-Ansaldo M11/39,-the Carro Armato, according to official designation back in the war - you are a frequent sight in the tank hangar. The tank itself was commandeered by three members of the shop club during the actual fighting

"We're here." the despondent tone to her voice pulls at every last one of your heart strings. It doesn't just pain you to see your friend badly upset over this, it outright tears at you. You've known her since she had first arrived at the Academy, and when she'd made the junior high Sensha-do team at the start of her second year you'd been overjoyed at being able to teach your friend something for once, rather than the other way around.

Taking your seat at the bus stop, the two of you fall into a silence. The reason being is that she gave up on talking about her failings and all that every time she lost a match, having resigned herself to the bouts of sullen catatonia that followed each crushing defeat. The last time she'd talked had been some months back, after a bout against Saunders, who had barely batted an eyelid during the fight. This time, though, you feel the need to make this silence come to an end, and find yourself surprised and your thoughts disrupted by something.

Anchovy's eyes are closed, her head resting on your shoulder as if it was some form of pillow.

The only sound you heard was a heavy sigh from the defeated Commander.

Kuromorimine had been the opponent this time around, and she'd fallen into a stupor long before the match. Ever since she'd delivered the school a victory on a silver platter during her years as commander of the junior team, Anzio had been on a losing streak that stretched far over ten miles, and had survived years of tournaments one after the other. It had made a disconcerting amount of sense that she had been expecting the loss, but not one that bad. The Nishizumi-run school had torn the Italian themed team apart with the efficiency of the Germans they were styled after, and that had been the nail in the coffin for the poor girl sat next to you.

Anzio had never stood a chance, not with the few tanks it had. They'd swamped you, and the fact that the commander of that monster of a tank had never revealed them self had left some strange suspicion in your mind. It was generally rude to not show yourself at the end of the match, as it was a sign of respect among tankers, but the lady who'd emerged from that had claimed to be the gunner, and had informed the gathered tankers that the commander was displeased with Anzio's performance. It didn't help that when she mentioned the commander of that immense tank, she used not feminine terms, instead substituting each and every one you could think of with masculine ones. It was particularly odd, seeing as the only schools that practiced Sensha-do were all girls schools - of course, your presence at Anzio was acknowledged as tank maintenance, which was fair, seeing as you were indeed helping where you could

"Come on, Anchovy," you say in as soft a manner as you could, paying the fare and taking a seat near the back of the sparsely populated bus "Let's get a pizza, my treat." The slightest ghost of a smile appears on her face, framed by the now dampened and not-so-drill-like pigtails she was known for

"With all the toppings?"

"All of them." It was hardly the first time you'd tried this, and most times the thought of a warm meal after walking outside in the cold rain in school uniform had normally been enough to get her out of her stupor. The smile on her face broadened slightly, and you hope to whatever deity was watching you at that moment that this would work, before you return the smile "You just go back to resting a little bit, I'll wake you when we get there." And with a small nod and a smile given for appreciation, she proceeds to nod off once again, the rest of the trip made in gentle silence.

Tankery didn't matter that much to you, but she cared deeply for it, being the Commander of a team and all. The only thing you know of the sport was your own tank, the Fiat-Ansaldo, and even then, you barely knew how to drive it, mostly due to your father deciding to give history a more realistic touch when it came to the Second World War. All you know was that it needed maintenance due to the pressure of battle, and that was what you were best at – keeping that one tank from falling apart around its crew. Were the schools not held under the stranglehold of the Nishizumi school, perhaps you take more interest in the sport, rather than the maintenance. With these thoughts in your mind, you too slowly drift into thought. After all, it wasn't that Anzio really needed, you – all you did was comfort their leader after another terrible defeat and look after a single tank that wasn't really effective, but was kept because it wasn't a replica and had actually served in the war from 1939 through to 1944.

The Japanese loved their tanks having history, regardless of the role they played.

She seemed to enjoy the Pizza. That in and of itself was good news, but now she just seemed to have withdrawn into herself once again. The two of you had gotten trenette al pesto – arguably one of her favourite foreign dishes – but, rather than eat it, she was just pushing the pasta around the plate with her fork. This second, stronger bout of sadness must've come from the fact that several of the tanks were damaged to near scrap levels, and the match itself had barely lasted more than an hour or two. It was nearing closing time, and in truth you were thankful that the restaurant was located near her home.

You, meanwhile, have finished your meal, and were waiting patiently for her to even attempt to eat the pasta-based meal. It's nearing closing time, and with a sigh you get to your feet, the downcast Anchovy looking up at you with puppy dog eyes, watering slightly. Once again she's playing at your heartstrings for maximum effectiveness, and succeeds as you hold out your hand, palm up, like some of the gentlemen your father told you about when you were little. The truth being you never considered yourself a knight or hero of any sort, you were just there to keep an eye on your family's investment into Anzio, and care for that. The team Commander's eyes lit up briefly, a faint smile playing across her face as she took it, allowing herself to be pulled gently to her feet.

The two of you walked out, leaving behind one empty plate and one full plate, back into the rain as you open the umbrella once again. Her house was all of fifteen minutes away, a short distance, provided the traffic wasn't busy clogging the streets you should be able to make it there even quicker. After all, it was four streets away.

Minutes pass by fast as the two of you walk along in silence. You feel admiration for her, despite the fact she hasn't spoken since you'd boarded the bus, you can't help but feel admiration for the strength she was displaying. Ever since you'd woken her from her nap, she's kept a straight face, a perfect stone wall of missing emotions, save for the eyes, which you know have glimmered in appreciation at the fact you were once again footing the bill for her meal. You now also know how deep the blow of her latest defeat has really gone, which was pretty far in if she didn't want to even touch one of her favourite dishes.

She didn't speak to you during the walk back, and so you contented yourself with watching cars going by as you walked.

Soon enough you find yourself outside of the three-roomed flat that was Anchovy's house.

Ever the gentleman, you escort her to the door, waiting patiently for her to open it before she gives you a hug for all of your efforts in comforting her. It had become routine, really, for you to receive a hug from the short tempered leader of the Sensha-do team, and you know that she was in capable hands due to the fact that her best friend on the team, who you knew only as 'Carpaccio', who lives two doors down the street from her. Strangely, though, this hug lasts much longer than normal, and as you turn around to walk away, you feel her hand on your shoulder.

She must be standing on the tips of her toes again

"Wait, please." The fact her voice is shaking, and the fact that she was speaking at all, was the only thing telling you that the walls she has built around herself over the course of the past few hours since her defeat were breaking down in front of her. More importantly, though, was the fact she was now attempting to open up to you, one of her oldest friends and a fellow tank enthusiast. This, you figured, was a very important step to figuring out how your friend really worked inside. With a small, reassuring smile, you turn back around and follow her inside, being lead into the living room she sits on an old leather sofa.

The cushions seem to sag under the weight she seemed to carry.

The two of you sat there for some time, with her saying as many words as she's said all night, you merely being the comforting presence. Every so often you look to the window, not that you really need to, the rain pattering against it was more than enough to remind you that it was still raining, and you can still hear. You take the time to investigate the flat from the safety of the sofa – fern green paint was on the walls, blending somewhat seamlessly with the wooden table in front of you. Across from you was a small, battered old portable television, complementing Anchovy's spartan style of life. After a short while, you feel yourself starting to drift off into a peaceful stupor, but you force yourself to remain awake.

The impact of the rain against the glass increased in force, proving that it was no passing shower but an oncoming storm.

As more minutes passed listening to the music provided by the weather outside, you grow bored of watching the rain form intricate patterns on the window pane and you turn to the still silent Anchovy. A slight movement caught your attention, and as you turned to look at her properly, she continued to maintain a strong façade, watching the dead screen of the television, but you can see tears slowly begin to fall down her face and drip onto her pant leggings. Soon enough, you could hear her sob once, a light sob that once again pulled painfully at your heartstrings.

Scarce seconds later, and she began to cry like a broken faucet.

Tears streamed down her face, free of any attempt to halt them. Like so many times before, back before she began to turn you away when she lost, you wrapped a comforting arm about her shoulders. You didn't expect her to wrap her arms around you, however, and wheeze lightly when she all but attempts to crush you against her. With her head burying itself in your chest, using your shirt like a towel, you grimace to yourself and lean back in the sofa. This is far from the first time you'd seen her cry, but never had you seen her cry like this.

Minutes pass by like an eternity as you do all you can to sooth her, to make her calm down, but you fail miserably as she continues to wail like the damned at her own supposed failure to give her team victory. You begin to wonder how long she's been holding the tears back, how long she'd hidden all the hurt from loss after loss. By that point you can feel the tears seep through your shirt and began to soak your skin. You reach your other arm around her and pulled her closer, silently telling her to let out all her tears, that you are there to make her feel better.

The minutes extended into an hour before she stopped crying, all you could hear was the occasional sigh or sniffle. She looked up at you, revealing to you that her make-up had run, and her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. The both of you knew that she looked and felt completely helpless in this situation. Without a word, she closed her eyes once again and simply rested her head against your chest, while you sighed quietly and gently ran a hand along the back of her head, a smile on your face that said 'It's okay, I'm here'.

A short while later and her breathing stabilizes, and it isn't long after that you realise that she has drifted into sleep once again. Were you not feeling drained from helping her, you would have been chuckling at how adorable the scene looked. You decide against disturbing her, however, and shuffle into a more comfortable position as gently as you can. After a minute or so of slow movements, you finally find yourself laying across the sofa's cushions, the sleeping Commander still laying atop you as if you were some giant teddy bear.

As you closed your eyes at long last, you realise that this wasn't as uncomfortable as you thought it would be.

Soon after, sweet sleep finally came to you, carrying you off to the land of dreams.

When you wake up, it was still raining heavily, the only change being that it was now pitch black outside. You couldn't have been asleep long, as it was already dark when you arrived. An hour or two, at the most. A quick glance at the clock tells you that it was, in fact, one in the morning. You had arrived at around ten, and then you had forgotten about the time almost entirely. As you try to move yourself into a sitting position, you find that Anchovy had shifted position, her head now resting on her arms, still folded on your chest, moments later she looks up at you.

Evidently, she must have gotten up and wiped her face clean of the ruined make-up

"…You're awake." She notes, and you give a simple nod in reply as you attempt to move your right arm, only to find it still wrapped about her, as it had been when you fell asleep. At that moment it occurs to you that you could barely feel your left arm, and so pull at it for a few moments. Slowly, Anchovy sits up, and you did the same, once again taking a seat next to her

"I guess I should get goin-" your words stop dead in your throat as she placed a hand on your leg. She tenses slightly as well

"P-Please stay," She asks, uncertainty heavy in her voice "At least for a while?" you note that it is getting late. Well, not really getting late as much as getting early, and your flat, some streets away, is under the care of your uncle who chose to stay with you. A small smile creeps onto her face as you give another small nod, as your back clicks in protest at the lack of use. Sleeping like you did probably wasn't as good an idea as it seemed earlier, but it was the only choice you had at that moment in time

"I-… Okay then, Anchovy." Your voice is full of appreciation at the offer, as you could still hear the rain against the windows, and you had no intention of getting drenched. "I'll stay." The smile on the Commander's face grows, even as she struggles to supress a yawn. You had been expecting her to get up and go to her room, leaving you on the mildly tattered sofa, but much to your surprise she remains there, quite content to use you as her teddy bear

"… You can have my bed for the night. I'd rather not have you sleep on the sofa." The tone in her voice shifts from uncertain to that one would associate with a commanding officer. You give a small smile and nod in acceptance of her generosity before getting to your feet, but when she noticed that you hadn't moved once you were on your feet, she gave a weak scowl "It's alright. I can manage on the sofa." To you it felt like a false reassurance, but regardless you do as she asked you to do and made your way to her room.

Upon entering her room and closing the door for privacy, you noted that the room is very plain, and also bare. In the corner by the window was a desk, littered with scattered papers, and a variety of pens and pencils. A half-filled bookshelf accompanied a shelf on the wall that was in a similar state of fullness. Two small trophies on the wall shelf caught your eye, your tiredness denying you the opportunity to see what they were for, though the dates on the plaques at their bases indicated they were from some time back.

You then realise they were the trophies she won in the Junior Tank Circuit.

The entire room looks like it's been neglected of cleaning, or anything, for some time. The door opens once again, as Anchovy hurries in and grabs a few clothes from a drawer by the door, before leaving and closing the door again, leaving you to yourself. As was routine for you, you focus on thinking about your day while you remove most of your clothes, leaving you clad only in your underwear and shirt, folding them neatly on the stand next to you before clambering under the olive green bed sheet – you couldn't help but notice a theme with her choice of colours – and turning off the lamp.

Sleep, however, does not come to you.

You toss and turn in the bed for a few minutes, trying to pry yourself away from the saddening thoughts of the state that Anchovy had gotten herself in earlier, after the crushing defeat handed to her by Kuromorimine – she'd always lashed out for the first few minutes, and then spent the rest of her time apologising for not bringing victory back to the school. After that morning's battle, though, she had simply fallen quiet, keeping her tears locked away for the entire day before-

The door opens with a slight creak as Anchovy enters once again.

Her hair was no longer done up in its distinctive drill-bit pigtail style, but rather hung limp about her, framing her face, once again full of uncertainty and distress. It was only when she got closer to you that you notice she was wearing an oversized t-shirt over shorts, both a shade of grey-green. You were quick to sit up, covering your face with your left arm to block out the light from the still open door

"Chiyomi?" you ask, noting the slightest hint of a scowl at the use of her name "D- Did you need something?" the scowl quickly fades back into the distressed face she wore when she first came in. To you, such a look was, well, alien – Anchovy was never nervous

"W- Would you…" she begins, her hands balling into fists briefly at her sides before she tried to reiterate her statement "Could I… I mean…" there is a distinctive lack of concrete words coming from her, and it doesn't take you long to realise that you are inadvertently putting more pressure on her to speak, and that she will only fall back into that shell again if you don't stop. A few moments of absolute quiet follow, before she takes a deep breath and manages to speak a coherent sentence "… I know I said I'd sleep on the couch, but… I want… I want to stay close to you tonight. I don't think… I could sleep otherwise."

"O- Of course." Ever the considerate person, you budge over to as close to the wall as possible, leaving her more than enough room to get into the single sleeper bed. She gives you a small smile, one filled to the brim with appreciation, and hurriedly closes the door before crawling into the bed, immediately latching onto you once again, resting her head on your chest as you wrap your arms around her. The next few seconds are uncomfortable to you, as your faces are mere inches away from one another

"S- Sorry," she says with a nervous chuckle. As she lets go of you and looks away from you swear you catch a slight hint of her cheeks turning red "Y- You first." All you can do is shake your head at her nervousness

"I was simply going to ask why you're so tense."

She turns even redder at that remark, and you can hear her mutter something along the lines of "… Only you…" but then then she speaks up, her voice managing to reach your ears as she pushes herself back against your chest "I… I just wanted a shot, you know? Just… A shot at that happiness I had back when I won those local Sensha-do tournaments in middle-school." You can tell she's looking at those two trophies on the shelf "I tried… Tried so hard," there is a little bit of a hiccup in her voice now, and she's gripping your shirt

"So hard… To win just one tournament… Just once I wanted it to b- be like the good old days… Share the happiness with everyone again…"

"But you can't win with just spirit, as much as you try," You tell her, shooting down that sense of false hope she was trying to gather about herself "And underpowered tanks don't usually win matches, much less tournaments."

"But you never cared about that," she says, looking up at you once again, another one of her small smiles on her face "You were always there, even when we both knew the match was a loss before it started." You went to speak up again, only for her to place a finger over your lips, shushing you "Please… not now," she asks you, her voice suddenly softer, more timid, like it had been earlier.

Like any gentleman would, you oblige her request to remain silent.

You reward is a smile, reminding you that behind the façade of a little dictator, she's nothing more than a saddened little girl

"So many pizzas… and so much pasta," you can't discern her tone of voice as she grips you tighter, though you can make out a faint blush on her face "And I never thought I'd won anything…" you look down at her, an inquisitive look on your face as you ponder where she's going with this conversation.

Then, she looks up at you.

"You silly," she laughs softly, reaching up and running a hand along your right cheekbone. Her eyes are glistening, you can make out the faintest hint of tears running down her face "I've won the most important thing of all…" she begins to giggle, most likely at the dumbfounded presently on your face. You've always liked her, regardless of her temperament, but you'd never thought…

She's takes the silence negatively, shrinking away from you once again

"I- I mean if you'd want someone who's such a loser as-" you refuse to let her degrade herself any more in that manic babbling, and so you do something that either conforms or trashes the idea of you ever being a gentleman.

You lean down and give her a gentle but firm kiss.

It doesn't last long, just a few seconds at most, but you try to put all your feelings for her into it, to let her know that regardless of any outcome, you'll always be there for her. The two of you break apart, and you're forced to wonder whether, like her, you're blushing as bright as the sun.

The warmth that covers your entire face presumably means that yes, you are

"T- That was my first kiss," you can barely hear her muttering, though you can see her face nearing the colour of the wine you two had snuck a glass of that one time after a rare victory. All you can do in response to that remark is smile and nod – as much as you occasionally tried to hide it, it was also your first kiss

"Was it a bad one?" you ask, with that same small smile plastered on your face. She looks away from you briefly, her face an even deeper shade of red than it was before, and then she turns back to you, some of the blush having faded as she gives her verdict

"I- I don't know," she tells you, before a glint you've learned to fear throughout your tenure as a friend to Anchovy appears in her eyes "You- You'll have to do it again." Once again you do the gentlemanly thing to do, and oblige her request. Except this time she beats you to the punch, shuffling up the bed a tad she kisses you first, forcing your head back slightly. Like before, this lasts only a few seconds, but in that short time you realise that you must never, under any circumstances, underestimate the strength of somebody who barely reaches your shoulders.

In response to her kiss, you cock an eyebrow in question

"Well?" you ask, only for her to giggle – truly something adorable from somebody who acts so very imposing – and wrap her arms around you, resting her head on your chest like a cushion. Once again you find yourself making comparisons to a teddy bear "Was that better?"

"I'll think about it…" she mumbles, as sleep begins to take you both "Tell you in the morning… Goodnight."

You simply continue smiling and kiss the top of her head before your eyes close.

The stove was at medium high in terms of temperature, and the sausages were sizzling away, leaving you waiting patiently for a minute or so until you needed to flip them onto their other side. Cooking wasn't your best subject back home, but uncle Nicodemus had taught you the basics over the course of your stay – normally, you cooked the meals for one day a week during the month-long stays that were family visits – and so, you had taken it upon yourself to make Anchovy a breakfast that was sure to make certain she'd remain cheerful.

When you flip the sausages, you find it was just in time, they were hissing.

Hissing tended to mean they were about to pop in your experience.

Once again you wait, as you rummage through one of the shopping bags from your trip to replenish Anchovy' cupboards and fridge – they weren't just bare, they were literally empty, save for the milk – you pull out the carton of eggs and a loaf of bread. The idea was to make sausage, eggs, and toast, but whereas you'd normally have two pans at your disposal, Anchovy only had one pan in the entire flat. Thankfully, however, the recipe you were going for only required one pan, and some cooking oil. The book you'd found in the cutlery drawer while rummaging for a spatula for the eggs was also proving helpful, giving you a few tips on how not to make the egg yolk pop.

Flip.

You'd been doing this process for at least ten minutes, possibly eleven. All you knew was that you'd been up since six after a grand total of five hours sleep. You were practically hardwired to wake up at six, mostly because that was when you used to get to work on the family farm. Even so you found it easier to walk about when there was very few people awake, and those that were normally at work – While the ship was crewed by the students and effectively captained by the student council, it still required some form of infrastructure – leaving you mostly free reign to walk where you please.

You jab at the sausages with a fork, carefully lifting each of the six onto the two plates you'd put on the side earlier. You then cracked the eggs on the rim of the pan, then made certain that the contents poured into the pan.

You soon finish up with two eggs finished and on their plates, just in time for the toast to finish toasting, and with two slices on each plate, alongside the cutlery, you begin to make your way to Anchovy's room. Hopefully, it'd be a welcome surprise for the team commander. As you reach the closed door, you bend down and push the handle with your right elbow, before nudging it open.

Anchovy's sat there with watery eyes, the bed sheets held up to her chest protectively, despite her wearing a shirt

"Anchovy?" you ask, concern showing on your face as you sit next to her again, passing her a plate "Is something wrong?" you wait until she starts eating before you start yourself

"I- I thought you left me without saying goodbye…" she looks relieved, but her voice shows that once again she's hurt inside. Once again you feel your heartstrings tearing themselves apart "Pl- Please, don't leave me alone…" you reach over and place a hand on her shoulder, and once again you feel warmth going to your face, and you knew it wasn't breakfast that was causing it.

This wasn't Anzio's Il very own Duce before you, but a sad and badly upset young girl.

You gently pull her towards you, your foreheads bumping together, though you ignore that and look her in the eyes

"I will always be here for you, Anchovy." You tell her, your voice now soft but firm "Even if I'm not with you when you're down, I'll be here for you. All you have to do is call for me, and I'll come running. I'll always be here for you, Anchovy, because... Because, I love you." The last three words were said with a soft emphasis you didn't even know you put on them, but it succeeded in turning Anchovy's face the colour of a good Italian meat sauce. In turn, Anchovy doesn't say anything, apparently having been somewhat shocked into silence at your declaration, and just nods.

You can feel the warmth radiating from her cheeks.

You merely smile before giving her a light peck on the lips, and then return to your breakfast as if you did this everyday.

For the next quarter of an hour or so the two of you eat in a mildly comfortable silence, and as you finish you reach over for her now empty plate, you note she looks away from you with rosy cheeks

"I'll let you get dressed, then." You tell her, and beginning to stand, only to stop when she reaches out and takes your hand in a light grip

"Thank you," she says, kissing you on the cheek and then looking you in the eye, eyes red and puffy – she must have been crying while you were making breakfast, otherwise you would have heard it "Thank you for everything." The way she says the last part lets you know that she doesn't just mean this morning or last night, but every night, every meal and every match

"You're welcome." You tell her, before taking your leave and letting her get dressed.

You were more than certain uncle Nico would understand your lack of appearance last night. It was very rare for him to jump to conclusions and he spent most of his time thinking things over. At parties and family reunions Uncle Nico had always been the quiet one who waited in the corner, silently demanding that the rest come to him, rather than the other way around. It somehow managed to make him the heart of the party, and normally spent the rest of those with a small smile on his face

"You're going to leave soon, aren't you?" you didn't even notice that Anchovy had been coming towards you until just now, and from the sound of her voice, she was on the verge of becoming upset again, which was something you don't want to see. Your response to this is to place the plates in the sink and hurry over to the small tank commander – she barely comes up to your chest – before giving her a hug to calm her down

"It's only for an hour or so, just to explain why I wasn't at home last night, alright?" you explain to her – Anchovy had left her parents on the mainland, them having decided that she'd have an easier time learning about the spirit of independence if she was left to her own devices – a small, sad smile on your face "After all, I'm going to be needed to help with the tanks. You can come with me, if you want - Uncle Nico knows you, he'll understand." It was also Friday, which meant a school day, and you didn't want her to be late. You yourself were only vaguely 'taught' there, instead spending most of the day assisting the automotive and mechanic clubs with maintenance of the tanks.

You even had your own overalls, coloured dark blue to denote it as yours, compared to the usual green that was everywhere

"I… Okay." She still looks a bit upset, but that's understandable given that you nearly gave her another reason to cry little under an hour ago, but she manages to give you a weak smile "I- I'll just go and clean myself up, then, and then we can go, o… Okay?" you realise that you never bothered to get a wash when you woke up, but you'll get a chance to wash when she's done.

A full half hour later, and the two of you were clean. The effect was more noticeable on her, however, as her eyes are no longer so puffy and red, her face scrubbed clean of tear stains from before breakfast, and her hair's been restored to it's familiar drill bit pigtails. For the most part, all you did was get a wash – you could just as easily finish up cleaning yourself at home, and your hair was kept short due to the nature of what you did most of the day

"Are you ready?" you ask, before you find yourself on the receiving end of a determined look from Anzio's Sensha-do team leader

"Yes." She answers, that familiar tone of a born leader returning to her "You'll come stay again, won't you?" her voice falters again, just barely, but you know that it did, and you give a smile and a wink as you hold open the door for her

"I said I'd always be there for you, didn't I?" and with that you follow her out the door.

Author's Notice:Hello, and welcome to Jeder und Panzer - yes, that is indeed 'Everyone and Armour'. You see, one day I was wandering through the archives on this site, and then I stumbled on the various 'Boys in tankery' stories located here. Having a minor knowledge in tanks myself, which is admittedly helped by various WW2 related games and the like, I thought 'sure, may as well get in on the fun', and so I did. This will be a series of stories loosely connected to one another for the most part, and then move on to the series plot proper.

The twist to this story, is of course the fact that the reader is the main character.

Some main characters will have distinguishing features that I will explain in my own way, in my own time. For the most part though, I want the reviewers to tell me what school I should locate my next chapter, and what personality I should give to the character. I'll pick and choose the tanks myself, and some character names will be already chosen - like the chapter quote character up there, who was created by my brother for a laugh.

So yes, I hope you enjoy, and please, share your ideas.

I'll look at the reviews at the end of the two weeks after each chapter goes up, and go with whichever idea seems most frequent. Don't expect frequent updates, however, it takes me forever to reach an ideal manner of writing.