"In celebration of the Senshado team's revival, cheers!"
Anzu, Momo, Yuzu and Kyle clinked glasses of iced hojicha. The four of them were seated around a pair of square tables joined together in a restaurant called Cook Fan, which was said to specialize in Japanese pork cutlet. This was Anzu's favourite place to dine out. They were partaking in the restaurant's free flow of salad and dressing and making small talk while waiting for their dinner entrees to arrive.
Outside, the sun had already gone down, and all around them many other diners were having their evening meal. The venue was well lit, with the browns and yellows of the walls and furniture creating a warm cosy atmosphere. The air buzzed with ambient conversation and light background music.
"So, Kai-chan, how long have you been driving tanks?" Anzu, sitting across from Kyle, mumbled a question in between mouthfuls of chopped cabbage.
"I started in high school, so that would make it around seven to eight years by now," he replied. "Had the chance to try out a whole assortment of vehicles since that time. I've lost count of just how many."
"Wow," Yuzu remarked. "And you were a driver?"
"I was everything, really, depends on which point of time we're talking about. Well, everything except tank commander. I'm not good with big-picturing, strategizing, multitasking. I function better as someone who only needs to listen to orders, focus on a single task and carry it out well. That aside, I guess you could say I'm a jack of all trades."
"Ehh, isn't that something," Anzu cooed. Kyle could not tell if she was genuinely impressed or not. For president of the student council, she sure seemed very laid-back. Her usual voice was a phonetically jocular yet nonchalant drawl that would not distinguish if she was just playing down her feelings or if she really was emotionally detached from everything around her.
"So what kind of experiences did you have playing for your university?" Momo inquired stiffly.
Kyle leaned back in his seat. This was beginning to feel like a job interview, even though he had technically already landed the position. The girls were probably trying to get an idea of who this mysterious person the Senshado Federation had decided to send down to their aid really was. He certainly could not blame them for being wary of some gaijin fellow suddenly becoming an instructor for a Japanese traditional art form practised exclusively by girls.
"I had a pretty interesting four years with Hanley. In the United States varsity league there isn't a lot of variety in tanks. It's always Pershings, Tigers, and Iosif Stalins for everybody because those are generally accepted to be the most potent stats-wise. This is coupled by the fact that schools seldom adopt their own unique styles of play. They tend to fall into a pattern of forever playing within certain specific doctrines called the 'meta', a set of established approaches and unwritten rules of engagement that apparently grant the greatest amount of success in any game. It's all monkey see monkey do, and victory usually goes to whoever can execute the current one most effectively. Thankfully, the meta typically shifts every season or so when one side discovers a method that can handily undo those previously established conventions of warfare. What usually follows after that is, of course, everybody else starts tacking on to it, and what was once an exciting new technique then itself turns into the prevailing meta, until it gets done in again by something else. Gunnery is boring like that. It actually gets a lot worse when you go one step higher to the national level. Most people are okay with that but I despise it greatly.
"Now, Hanley was one of those schools bent on always challenging the meta no matter what. I happened to be right at the heart of that very movement. Every gunnery team fields a lineup of Utility Teams that normally performs scouting duties in light tanks. In my previous school ours was dubbed the Special Teams, and our job was not only scouting, but using swiftness and unpredictability to outright disrupt enemy formations and carefully laid-down plans, creating openings for our allies to exploit and paving the way for the execution of a new conduct of battle. There was a little bit of planning involved but it was all generally done on the fly, relying equally on individual proficiency and group effort. Such was the general business of meta-breaking; we were the spark to every revolution. Most of our undertakings were based on gambling and guesswork though, and we didn't do well all of the time. There were some hits but also plenty of misses, so only a small number of tanks were counted on to come up with breakthroughs to defeat the meta, while majority of the other crews continued to play to it to keep up with everybody else."
The girls listened meticulously, nodding and back-channeling with oohs and ahhs every now and then. Kyle basked in the attention.
"I had a place in one of those Special Teams. I specialized as a driver, as Yuzu-san would be correct to say. I enjoyed a good number of successes, slightly more than failures, and I like to think a lot of that was thanks to my driving. We were always switching things up, employing ever-changing tactics to combat those that we've pioneered before, so I've had the opportunity to drive tanks of various models and countries. The Chaffee was my mainstay, but from the Crusader, BT-5, Locust, to experimental models like the MT-25, I'd usually drive tanks that nobody but Hanley would ever think of deploying, creating diversions and conducting hit-and-run raids. My forte was speed; you could put me in any fast-moving tank and I'd make magic with it. It was something easy for me to channel no matter the vehicle. That was probably what landed me a role in Special Teams to begin with. That and my goals being very much aligned with theirs.
"Truth is, I've had a lot of diversity since even before my college days. High schools tended to have a greater assortment of tanks that changed with availability as and when the vehicles were out of the machine shop. The average tanky would have sat in at least three different tanks during his high school lifetime, having tried out every role at least once. Among the ones you guys have, I've been inside the StuG, Pz. IV and LT vz. 38. Others would include the Soviet T-26 and T-34, the British Valentine, American Stuarts and Shermans, all of these were very common because of their cost and availability. Cheap to repair, and if repair was out of the question, cheap to replace."
"Ah, so you're familiar with our tank, then?" Spoke Yuzu. "Maybe you can teach Momo-chan here how to aim the gun properly."
"Don't call me Momo-chan!"
"Oho, you're quite a capable one now, aren't you, Kai-chan?" Anzu stated. "What with all that meta mumbo-jumbo. I like that, I like that a lot." She looked towards her subordinates. "I guess Instructor Chono really came through for us after all. Looks like we're going to be in good hands."
"Yes. I'm so relieved," Yuzu agreed.
"We hope that you will commit to performing to expectations, Rin-san," Momo said. "After all, we're aiming for the national high school Senshado championship tournament this year."
Just then, a waitress came over bringing in their orders. On the table in front of Kyle was Anzu's recommended dish, a tonkatsu set meal. Miso soup, steaming white rice, some pickled vegetables, all surrounded the main attraction: a bed of succulent deep fried thickly sliced pork cutlet covered in panko breadcrumbs. It looked absolutely appetizing.
"Let's not wait any longer, shall we?" Said Anzu. "Time to show Kai-chan here that we don't muck around when it comes to cooking good food."
"Itadakimasu!" Everybody chimed in unison, and began tucking in. Kyle dragged a piece of breaded meat through some bulldog sauce and popped it into his mouth. He was instantly bombarded with an explosion of sheer delight. The flavour was astoundingly delicious, possibly compounded by his hunger. Here was his first proper meal since arriving to Oarai, one to proceed many more meals to come, and already its quality was leagues better than any Japanese eatery back in Pittsburgh.
"Oh my gosh!" Kyle uttered as he wolfed down his food. Everything was amazing: the meat, the vegetables, the miso soup, heck, even the rice was outright heavenly. His standards were spoiled; he could never go back to eating 'Japanese' food in America ever again.
The girls looked on in amusement. "It looks like you're really going to enjoy your time here," Yuzu surmised, smiling.
He helped himself to extra portions of rice and soup ("All free of charge? You guys are nuts!"), and by the time their idle chatting resumed everybody was washing down their meals with more tea.
"So, Kai-san, Based on your own personal judgement, how do you think our team fares in terms of strength?" Yuzu asked.
Fully satiated and in a pleasant mood, Kyle paused for a moment to think of a tactful reply. "To me, strength isn't simply about sheer firepower or armour or speed. You need cohesion, a little bit of brains, and a good amount of guts. You girls put on quite a show in the mock battle today. I saw a lot of enthusiasm and energy, was even surprised as how quickly everyone was learning and getting used to their vehicles and roles even though it was your first time. I do believe there's a ton of potential to grow."
"So the members aren't a problem, then," Momo stated. "We'll leave that part to you. What about the tanks?"
Her stern demeanor indicated that she was expecting an honest, straightforward answer. She specifically wanted to hear about the firepower, armour and speed.
Kyle furrowed his brow. He had to be frank. "Hmm... If I were to take reference from a typical high school gunnery team in the US... The lineup isn't exactly the strongest in the world. In fact I'll be honest and go ahead and say it's pretty mediocre. But that's secondary, you know? It's like I said, there are other more important things that can make up for that. We've only just begun, there's plenty of time to get better. In fact, as a recreational club you guys are already-"
"-I see." Momo interjected. "As I mentioned before, we intend to compete in the national high school tournament this year, and we're entrusting you with the task of preparing our team for it. We're not doing this for fun, and we certainly have a lot less time than you think."
Geez, lighten up a little, will you? Kyle was taken aback by her no-nonsense tone. "Yeah, of course, not a problem," He said. "Tournaments are always a good way to gain more experience. It's all about actual battles, eh."
Momo adjusted her monocle. "We're not taking part simply to gain experience. Our objective is complete and utter victory."
I must have heard that wrongly, Kyle thought. "Huh?"
"We're aspiring to become the champions," Yuzu clarified sheepishly.
There was a brief pause. Kyle's first thought was to laugh. Everybody likes to talk lightly about this kind of thing every once in a while, after all. He let out a few chuckles before quickly picking up on the solemn atmosphere.
His expression changed to from hilarity to disbelief. "You're serious."
"Indeed," deadpanned Momo.
"You want to win a national competition with those five tanks."
"They're all that we've got," Yuzu muttered wistfully.
Kyle was perplexed. He almost could not believe that they were having this conversation, that he had to point out such a glaringly obvious fact.
"Look, I don't know a whole lot about the standard of opposition you might be facing, but I think that's irrelevant at this point. From what I do know based on the tanks you currently have, I simply cannot envision a way that you guys can come anywhere close to what you wish to achieve. I mean, I can try to pull a miracle out of my pocket and train everybody up to a competent standard in a short amount of time, but we have to stay realistic here. There's only so much one person can do. With five second-rate vehicles there simply isn't enough manpower, horsepower, or firepower to aim for the top in a high-level competition. We may not be lacking in soul and drive, but what what we've got here is a severe materiel deficit on our hands."
He sighed, disgruntled. What he initially thought was going to be a dream job, doing what he loved surrounded by pretty faces, seemed to be taking a turn for the ugly. The others continued to look at him intently.
"What I really want to know is why, though. Why must you have such an obsession with winning? I know a lot of folks back at Hanley who, just like you right now, are passionate about nothing but proving that they're better than the rest. They're the ones who find the greatest dissatisfaction in the game whenever we lose or when things don't go our way. The rest, me included, think of gunnery as a pastime where people can enjoy their love for riding and battling in tanks. Where everybody is constantly striving to improve themselves and learn from one another, and most importantly where strong friendships are forged. This is the joy I take away, and I think it's the most sincere reward gunnery has to offer. I may know very little about Senshado, but I'm going to go on a limb and say that these kinds of things are universal."
Kyle leaned back once more and crossed his arms decisively. "Now, the three of you look like good, sensible people. I'm sure I don't need to explain all of this to you. And that's why I think there's some underlying reason beneath this bizarre idea that you're suggesting to me. We're going to be colleagues from now on so, pardon my bluntness, but I believe a little honesty will go a long way here."
The student council trio remained quiet. A tense cloud of malaise surrounded their table, isolating them from the relaxing atmosphere inside the restaurant. Kyle could not understand what the fuss was all about, but he waited patiently for a reply.
Both Yuzu and Momo were looking at Anzu, apparently waiting for her to be the one to let the hammer fall. The twintailed girl was mimicking Kyle's pose, eyes closed, her mouth curled upwards in a mirthless smile. She took her time to deliberate what she was going to say next.
"Well, well," She finally said. "You've made your point. I'll get straight to it then. The truth is..."
She lifted her head and opened her eyes to stare directly at his.
"... The truth is, if we don't win this year's tournament, you're fired."
"..."
Kyle was dumbstruck. His sat apoplectic for a good few seconds.
What... The hell?
He regained the ability to move his eyes after a few moments, and glanced at the other two girls. Neither of them dared to make eye contact.
"F-fired?" He stammered.
"Yeah. That would be a pretty awful image to portray of yourself, don't you think? Getting the boot in less than a year. Nobody would want to take you in any more. Back to America with you. Harsh."
Kyle finally understood the true might of Anzu's apathy: She was able to deliver a truly harrowing intimidation in an almost sing-song manner.
His shock swiftly gave way to indignation, and he unfroze from his petrified state. Straining to rein himself in and control his voice so as not to make a scene, he hissed, "You're kidding. I know nothing about these terms! Is that a threat?"
Anzu shrugged. "Make what you will of it, but it's true."
"Was this something that had been discussed with my boss?" He demanded.
"In a way, yes." This time her voice betrayed a shred of uneasiness. "Talk about it with her if you need to. The long and short of it is if we aren't the champions, you won't be working here any more."
Kyle's mind was in a mess. Thoughts and emotions were swimming all over the place. His hands were balled into tight fists. He wanted to lash out in hostility. How dare she play around with me like that! Is my career a game to her? A fleeting simulation of him jumping to his fleet and reaching for the collar of Anzu's uniform with both hands played in his mind.
A habitual action kicked in, and luckily it was a good one. Kyle started taking deep breaths to try to slow his heartbeat and quell his anger. He was once an impatient and hot-headed young boy, notorious in high school gunnery for being the first to dash into every engagement, shooting first but never having a chance to ask questions later because he always got dispatched early. When he joined collegiate gunnery he met a very talented individual whom he looked up to immensely, and it was that person who trained him to maintain his composure. Being part of Special Teams meant harnessing a taciturn shrewdness, keeping cool amidst a frenzied environment of enemy tanks bearing down from all directions. Giving in to rage brings about terrible outcomes, be it in gunnery or anywhere else in life.
He allowed a wave of calm to wash over him, just as he does at the start of every tank battle. It gave him the clarity to think back on the things his boss had said. Was this what Chono meant by 'expecting great things'? Perhaps she was trying not to stress him out too much in the beginning, which was why she never explicated anything at the start. They were all mere neutral phrases such as 'you need to convince them otherwise' and 'plenty to have on your plate'.
Him resigning should Oarai fail to clinch top spot at the nationals was probably part of the terms set up by the camp of detractors within the Federation, which the Strengthening Committee had to concede to in order to enact the pilot administration of the foreign instructor program. They possibly wanted to see nothing less than resounding success churned out from the most dire of circumstances before they could deem it worthy of further development. It was overkill, a steep price Kyle had to pay for what he was getting in return, but a small part of his brain came to recognize that it was not unreasonable.
"Ne, Kai-chan," Anzu continued, her tone less biting now. "You were going on about your stories in the university team just a while ago. In those so-called Special Teams, how many tanks are there?"
Kyle was unsure where she was coming from. "Two usually, never more than three."
She paused for dramatic effect before breaking into a shit-eating grin.
"We have two more tanks than you."
"I-" Kyle started to retort, but caught himself. He instantly realized what she was getting at.
This girl had a deliberate plan to reach that preposterous goal.
Satisfied that her message got through, Anzu turned up the smugness even more as she leaned over the table on her elbows.
"I think you're the right man for the job after all, Kai-chan. Your being able to speak Japanese is a happy bonus. Just consider leading us to victory as part of your contract fulfillment requirements, yeah? Think of the prestige and the fame it'll get you. I'll even be extra generous and give you a nice reward. What would you like? A year's supply of dried sweet potatoes? One million yen? Oh! I'll give you Koyama's hand in marriage and you can both start a family and make lots of babies together."
"Kaicho!" Yuzu wailed.
"Just kidding," Anzu teased cheekily. "I'll mull over your reward more seriously. Do your best so you can keep this awesome job, okay? We'll work hard too. We've got a few months to get ready so we'll use that time to set about improving the equipment situation. Meanwhile, you better keep digging those pockets of yours because we really need that so-called miracle. Go for gold, yeah? Looking forward to it~"
Frustration still welled within Kyle. He felt ridiculed, led on by the nose, first by Captain Chono, now by the student council. He had fallen for the classic bait-and-switch. In the beginning it was all, 'yes ma'am, no ma'am, this is awesome ma'am,' but now he saw that the deal he had struck in exchange for a second wind at riding tanks was not going to be as easygoing in his favour as he had initially imagined. He was stuck with tough times abound and no real way out. Failing here would mark the end of his good fortune and a return to a lifestyle he had no intention to lead.
Snap out of it, he urged himself.
The task ahead was nigh insurmountable and the pressure on him was great. There was no doubt about that. But this was supposed to be nothing new to a Special Teams player like him. He was used to facing overwhelming odds on the battlefield, and he and his crew never backed down without a fight. Just as he had always done before, there was nothing to it but to tackle this challenge head on. Did he not already do something like that this afternoon, and come out on top?
Considering things from this perspective, everything suddenly started to look a lot simpler. He thought back on the fame and prestige that Anzu had mentioned. This was a chance to get back at the NGL who never even gave him a second glance. A chance to prove his worth to his parents, who have been long exasperated with his passion for tanks.
A chance to finally be happy with his life.
Anzu knew precisely what she was going to do with Kyle. Five shabby vehicles from Oarai were going up against the very finest that Japanese high school Senshado has to offer. Their only hope of winning was for all of them to operate as one Special Teams unit. Every crew member has to perform her duty impeccably. Every tank has to function well independently yet in a heartbeat flow in precise coordination with one another. In every battle, Oarai has to break the meta.
It was going to take a herculean effort. But it was not impossible.
"Hold up," Kyle said just then. Something was not right.
"So you mean to say that you guys are fighting to win the tournament... Because you don't want me to go either?"
"Of course!" Anzu replied without missing a beat. "We feel so lucky to have you, you know!"
She looked towards Yuzu and Momo. They nodded obediently.
"The three of us, we're in our final year of school already, and we want to go out with a bang, know what I'm saying?" She explained. "And speaking for the rest of the club, if we don't win at the nationals now, who knows when we're ever going to, right? There's no way we can do that without you. You're a one-in-a-million presence, an amazingly talented individual from a far-off land. We'd hate to lose such a capable instructor such as yourself."
That prior sense of peculiarity was a false alarm, then. Kyle brimmed with self-confidence from hearing her praise. He could almost puff out his chest in pride.
Anzu continued to egg him on. "We need you, Kai-chan. Only you can reach for the top. Do this for us. And for yourself too. We all share in the spoils of victory, ne?"
He sighed in capitulation. Oh well. Since I'm already stuck here I could at the very least try to enjoy myself as much as I can even if things don't work out in the end. Positive thinking.
"Guess it can't be helped, huh," he conceded patronizingly. "Since you put it that way, it looks like I don't have much of a choice. I'll lend you my strength. Please treat me well."
The depressing atmosphere lifted instantaneously. Even Momo mellowed in expression at last. "Thank goodness!" Yuzu exclaimed, tears of joy brimming in her eyes.
"Good lad," praised Anzu. "Was about as tricky as I expected, but I'm glad we finally got that squared away. Now then, Did you enjoy your dinner?"
"It was awesome, thanks."
Kyle was just happy that everybody's spirits were back up again. He felt no point dwelling on his prior agitations any more, and cast them all aside.
All except one. He did not like the way Anzu addressed him. Sure, that was probably just her style, just her way of projecting affability, and he was most likely just going to have to play along all the way, but in truth there was only one person in the world who had his express permission to call him 'Kai-chan'.
"Great! Wait till you try my rendition. I'm pretty good at cooking too, you know." The student council president grinned from ear to ear, flashing a peace sign. "Check's on me! Time for the last bit of business before we're done for the day. Let's get you acquainted to your new home."
Bi-bip. Bi-bip. Bi-bip. Bi-bip.
The sound of an alarm clock shattered the morning serenity. The room was steeped in a faint dawn glow. Nestled within a bed beside the nightstand it was perched on, a girl slowly stirred.
Bi-bip. Bi-bip. Bi-bip. Bi-bip.
She mumbled something about strawberry sponge cake in her sleep. In her arms was cradled a teddy bear soft toy that sported numerous bandages and plasters. There were many more like it sitting on a shelf on the other side of the room, in varying colours and degrees of injury.
Bi-bi-bi-bi-bi-bi-bi-bi-bi-bi-bi-bi-bi-
The pink alarm clock that was shaped like a rotund dolphin began sounding incessantly to rouse its owner. The racket finally prompted her to spring awake, roll over on her bed, and reach a hand out to silence it.
Click.
It was 5:30am. The slim girl with short light brown hair rose with haste and proceeded to make her bed.
It was the start of another day for Nishizumi Miho.
She sat her favourite Boko Bear on the bed beside her folded sheets and began to change out of her pyjamas. Trading her sleeping attire for a dark blue track suit that sported a white stripe running down each side, Miho then headed for the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. She slipped on a pink cotton headband and put on her running shoes before stepping out of her apartment door, checking that it was locked out of habit.
Waiting for her outside at the entrance of the apartment building, just like most other mornings, was her beloved, inseperable companion. Miho cleared the last few stairs leading down to ground level and strode up to meet her cheerily.
"Good morning, onee-chan," she called out, smiling.
Nishizumi Maho, wearing a beige beanie and a white track suit with light blue accents, smiled back.
"Good morning, Miho," she replied amicably.
The two of them performed a few warm-up stretches, then commenced their exercise routine. They started down the side of the road, running past street lamps, signposts and shopfronts, their footsteps pounding the pavement nimbly.
The sisters have been going for morning jogs together for a minimum of three times every week, a self-sustained exercise regimen continuing almost uninterrupted since Miho's enrolment to the school four years ago. Tracing a path from their student dormitory apartments to the massive automobile and electronics manufactory complex and back would cover roughly five kilometers, and aside from slight variations of running routes to break the monotony, they had been jogging so regularly that such a distance was just enough to barely break a sweat for either of them.
Miho treasured this time the most, as it was one of the few instances where she could truly spend time with Maho as a sister. In school, especially during Senshado practice, they maintained a strictly professional commander/vice-commander relationship, something Maho made a point to establish beginning from Miho's first year in middle school. Though she could never completely break the habit, she was even forbidden from addressing Maho as 'onee-chan' in any context involving Senshado.
However, during their morning runs their conversations can take on a large assortment of informal topics. Maho, dearly fond of her sister as much as Miho is of her, was more than willing to indulge.
"Kikuyo-san sent me a video of Akiho yesterday evening. She seems to be recovering well," Maho said. Akiho is the name of their Akita-inu back home in Kumamoto, who had recently come down with a bout of fever.
"She sent it to me too! She's so cute, prancing around like that." Miho chirped. "I'm glad she's doing okay now. I wish we could have her live with us in the dorms."
"You know that having pets in the dorm is completely out of the question, right?" Maho chuckled. Miho laughed as well.
"You're right, that's true."
The scene on their left opened up to reveal an expansive stretch of grassland shimmering in the morning breeze. Behind it was the edge of the schoolship deck, bordering the vast ocean. The sun clung close to the horizon, rising ever so slowly. Hardly a person was to be found walking the streets. The two of them kept pace side by side as they traced a route through a sparsely built-up area that was reserved for farmland. The air here outside the township was crisp and fresh, unmarred by vehicle or factory exhaust, at least until they got closer to the industrial complex.
Kuromorimine was a massive schoolship, one of the biggest around, and its defining characteristic was the autobahn that formed a long oval loop down the length of the ship's deck. A testament to the school's dedication to emulating German efficiency in engineering, the lack of a speed limit on the autobahn implied a certain danger, but the residents manage to keep accidents to a minimum by abiding to unspoken road rules. The townsfolk aboard the schoolship relied on it greatly to get around quickly, most especially the students, whose residences and dormitories in the downtown area were a good distance from the school compound itself.
Miho and Maho were presently jogging alongside it, separated from it by a steel crash barricade. At this time of morning the autobahn was relatively quiet. Every now and then a vehicle would zoom past at breakneck speed, be it a delivery truck making its morning rounds, or a speedster in a tuned-up Porsche or BMW enjoying the freedom of the open road.
"Ne, I overheard Erika-san the other day talking about a new hamburger joint that opened up in the Stuttgart quarter a week ago," Miho said.
"Erika? Is that so. She's referring to that one that's been on the news lately, right? Shake Shack, was it?"
"Yes, that one. Apparently it's very famous back in the mainland. Erika-san went there some days back to try it herself, and said they were pretty good."
"Hmm..." Maho barely held back an amused grin. "Erika is something of a connoisseur when it comes to hamburgers, so I think it's safe to trust her judgment. I prefer hamburg steak myself, though. Shall we all go there one day after practice?"
"Okay!" Miho answered, her face brimming with sheer elation. Maho could not help but beam back. She was diligent in her duties and could appear downright stoic, but even she knew to let her hair down every once in a while. It was mainly thanks to Miho's radiant presence reminding her that life was not all about riding tanks and upholding the Nishizumi-ryu name. The obligations she bore as heiress to the Nishizumi family were onerous, but ever since they were young and innocent children, Maho was always grateful for her younger sister's company giving her the support and encouragement to carry on.
They rounded the perimeter of the manufactory, a sprawling enclave of warehouses, industrial machinery and smoking chimney stacks. The silhouettes of the buildings drew jagged shapes that cut into the soft blue morning sky. Another of Kuromorimine's many boasts, it comprised an abundance of German brands from Audi to Zeiss. Many of the products made here were consumed by the local community, with the surplus being exported to the ship's numerous ports of call worldwide.
The sisters started jogging back to the start point, occasionally punctuating the silence with light conversation. Not too long later, they came to a stop at their block once more, making good time.
"Let's meet at the carpark in twenty minutes," Maho said.
"Okay."
They parted ways temporarily to go into their separate apartments. It was 6:15am. Miho used the time to hydrate, freshen up and change into her black and grey school uniform. Five minutes before the agreed time, she arrived at the parking compound to find her sister already there.
Maho had changed into her uniform as well, but over that she wore a stylish black leather jacket. Her hands which sported hard-knuckle gloves were gripping the handlebars of a motorcycle that she was in the process of kickstarting. It was a legacy from decades past, a Zundapp KS750. Many girls in the Senshado team favour this and its BMW contemporary to travel to and from school. They were speedy and reliable, and the sidecar was perfect for transporting schoolmates or equipment. Aside from reading, jogging, and weight training, riding and maintaining her motorcycle was one of the few leisures Maho afforded for herself. Her responsibilities as Senshado team commander regularly required her to report for morning practice much earlier than the other members, so it served as her usual commute to school. The sidecar was detached, as was usual for Maho's case, and differentiating hers from those of others was a tiny Boko Bear sticker pasted on the side of the headlamp, a gift from her sister.
The younger Nishizumi on the other hand did not share in the same duty ("I can handle this much on my own, you don't have to worry," Maho would say), so after her morning jogs she usually had more time to herself for breakfast and other matters before going to school by bus. Sharing a ride to school with Maho was rare, and typically meant that she had to be involved with some sort of special arrangement. In this case, there was going to be an interview with a television news agency that morning before practice. The reporters had initially requested the appearance of only the commander, but upon Maho's insistence, decided to include the vice-commander as well. Miho had never been in front of a television broadcast camera before, so she was a little nervous.
The motorcycle engine roared to life and Maho got on. Holding up a pair of Stahlhelme, she beckoned Miho to mount up. Miho took her helmet and put it on as she carefully clambered onto the pillion passenger seat.
"It's been a long time since we did this," Miho said as she adjusted the chin strap of her Stahlhelm. Their last weekend joyride together on this motorcycle was a few months ago.
Maho withdrew a pair of aviator shades from her jacket pocket and put them on before wearing her own helmet. "Yeah, it's been a while. Are you comfortable back there?"
"I am," Miho replied. She placed her hands on Maho's shoulders, who pushed off the kickstand, threw the gear selector into first and rolled the vehicle out of the carpark and into the main road.
The wide lanes of the autobahn were still fairly void of cars, so upon merging into the highway Maho poured on the speed unreservedly and let rip, accelerating upwards of 130km/h. Miho held on firmly but without worry. During her morning commutes to school she would very regularly see students traveling in this manner. Kuromorimine girls knew better than to challenge each other to races, and those whom she witnessed hurtling down the rightmost lane were assumed to know exactly what they were doing.
Right now, Maho was one of them. She expertly weaved through slower traffic, even overtaking a few sports cars along the way. One could glimpse upon the sight of the two girls tearing down the highway, Maho in her chic jacket and sunglasses, and easily imagine an iconic hard rock song playing in the background.
A handful of minutes passed before their destination came into view. Maho downshifted and left the highway to the danger zone as she banked into the exit that led towards the school grounds.
At the gate, the girls were greeted by the imposing structure of the Kuromorimine High School main building. Built in Germanic classical architecture, with sloping brown roofs, beige walls, and rectangular windows, its centrepiece was a statue of a winged Valkyrie, spear held high aloft, perched upon an obelisk atop the middle cupola.
Just below this feature, the ostentatious region in between a row of third floor windows and an intricately carved gable was prime advertising space for the school's various achievements, commanding full view from all students entering the compound. Here, in loud brazen font, a banner proclaiming their most lauded vaunt in recent times fluttered proudly in the breeze.
10-TIME CONSECUTIVE HIGH SCHOOL SENSHADO CHAMPIONS
This one in particular, having been displayed for a good number of months already, was fast approaching the school record for longest hang time, a proportionate measure of its distinction compared to any other accolade. Senshado was pivotal to the schoolship's strength and prestige, and they were well-known and respected because of it. The Nishizumi school, foremost patrons to the ship, were pioneers of the art, and the proponent of their signature principles of resolute persistence and ironclad discipline. Their centrality around the way of the tank was such that everybody on board held the Senshado team in high adoration, whose ten straight years as national champions was a monumental feat previously unheard of in the history of the sport. Morale was at a high, and everybody was eagerly waiting for the '10' to change to '11' some time this year.
Pompous as it was, the banner had become such a regular fixture of the school's facade that some people hardly paid any attention to it any more. This could not have been any truer for Miho's case. In fact, she did her best to block it out from her consciousness as much as she could. Every time she saw it evoked a bitter feeling. From its position at the metaphorical mantelpiece of the school it waved at her mockingly, as if to remind her that she had no part to play in its existence.
True enough, during her time as a first-year member of the school team, Miho had always felt as though she had done nothing of note to contribute to her school's victory. She was constantly one step behind in Kuromorimine's unwavering charge towards victory, and bearing the crucial role of flag tank commander during the four knockout matches played at the tournament, she had on more than one occasion committed naive errors in judgement that nearly cost her team the winning streak. She was often either hesitating to make critical decisions, or breaking formation and going against doctrine in reaction to developing situations on the battlefield. Had Maho nor Erika not been around to save her bacon in the nick of time, there would have been dire consequences for her.
There was no room in the Nishizumi-ryu for moralistic concessions, and it was hard for a compassionate girl like Miho to cope. She could not even understand why her presence was required for the TV interview, when she had been overcast by her elder sister's shadow the entire time. Everybody wants to know more about the successor to the head of the distinguished Nishizumi school, the prodigy with a guaranteed place in the national team, the brilliant and charismatic leader beloved by all, not a dilettante of a vice-commander as Erika had once called her.
Full of dejected thoughts, Miho sighed and rested her chin against Maho's back. The gesture was not lost on the elder sister, who accurately guessed at what might be going through her mind. Maho quietly shook her head.
She felt that their mother's constant admonishments to Miho had always been too harsh. Maho had reminded Miho countless times why she was the vice-commander and not anybody else. With an impeccable memory for tiny details and a solid understanding and judgement of the true strengths of each team member, Miho was extremely competent in identifying the right people for various roles. Against opponents whom she understood well she possessed a near godlike ability to predict their every intention and stay two steps ahead. Coupled with her amazing flexibility to adapt to any situation, a trait terribly overlooked in a doctrine that emphasizes formation and steadfastness on the frontline, she was virtually unmatched in one-on-one battles. If Maho was said to be the strongest in terms of strategy, then Miho would be strongest by way of tactics.
Though Erika matched up to her in almost every aspect related to combat, she was a paragon of the school's formidable ideals, and so there was something Miho possessed that she did not which effectively placed them leagues apart. Outside the battlefield, Miho's tenderness was a shining beacon contrasting against Kuromorimine's grim stolidness. Many of the other Senshado girls were attracted to her sunny demeanor, which made trainings a lot less unbearable. A cornerstone to their morale, they looked up to her as a leader not for her combat prowess, but for her humanity, something that Maho silently acknowledged Kuromorimine was dreadfully lacking.
The two of them arrived outside the school's colossal tank shed compound. Maho halted to allow Miho to disembark and proceed with preparations first while she parked. The TV reporters ought to be arriving any moment now if they were not already waiting inside, and Maho wanted her to receive them first. Her intention for having Miho be included in the interview was that it would hopefully help bring her closer to understanding her true importance and place in the team.
"Will you be all right by yourself?" Maho asked. Miho nodded as she put away her stalhelm, careful to hide her earlier emotions with a smile. Her reflection in Maho's aviators grinned back in encouragement. Chin up, have more faith in yourself, don't let these thoughts get to you, as her peers would often say. All this worrying is unbecoming and only serves to inconvenience others.
Her teammates were there for her and her sister was there for her. None of them were worth the trouble she was creating for herself.
"Leave it to me, onee-chan," she replied merrily.
"Are you sure?"
Miho spoke with finality, more to assure herself. "Yes."
Maho, seemingly satisfied, nodded simply and pulled away. Miho shouldered her schoolbag, turned around, and slipped past a pair of doors leading into a gigantic hangar.
Another long day of training, school, then some more training, was about to begin. Par for the course at Kuromorimine.
A/N: Welcome to chapter 4 of GuP:A. It's been a long time coming. I apologize for the prolonged absence, and I heartily welcome all the new readers here. Thank you for giving my story a try.
I've been to the real-life Cook Fan restaurant before. It's actually quite a distance outside the town of Oarai in Ibaraki. I had to cycle nine kilometres on a mama-chari bicycle I rented at Oarai station just to get there, and then another nine kilometres back to return it before the end of the day. The tank-shaped tonkatsu in the anime is a real thing, and it was so delicious, though it took quite a while to get to the table. Good thing there was plenty of chopped cabbage and roasted barley tea to help tide over the wait. The interior looks exactly like how it does in the anime, right down to the hairstyle of the shop manager, who's very actively involved with fan activities in Oarai such as the various characters' birthday celebrations.
Erika and hamburgers, that's a meme in the Japanese community. It's stated in her official bio that hamburgers are her favourite food, and one cannot help but find it a cute trait for such an aloof girl. Yes, I do think Erika is really pretty despite her coldness. She's one of my favourite Kuromorimine characters. But I think she would be the kind of girl who would detest boys. Not to hint anything of her 'preferences', of course.
On that note, my image of Kuromorimine was taken from a manga spinoff called Phase Erika. It revolves around Erika as the main character beginning from when she first enrolled to KMM (I'm getting annoyed at spelling the whole name every single time, haha) in middle school, and follows her as she rises to prominence in the Senshado team. Miho and Maho figure greatly in the storyline too, and I tried to get an idea of Miho's life in KMM through reading it. Go check it out at your favourite vendor if you have the time, I highly recommend it.
Maho looking all Tom-Cruise like, I always pictured her being all cool like that. Take it away, Mr. Loggins!
DISCLAIMER: The dog living in the Nishizumi manor may or may not actually be called Akiho. The running joke here is that due to her younger sister's prolonged absence in the original series Maho had taken to calling it 'Miho'.
Oops, I've droned on for far too long. Let's meet again in chapter five.
