Chapter 4: Nishizumi Shiho: Tradition
From the moment I was born as a daughter of the Nishizumi family, I inherited a great responsibility. Before I was old enough to fully understand why, I was trained for the purpose of succeeding my mother as head of the Nishizumi School. For most people, keeping and maintaining a tradition seems too abstract a concept for them to dedicate their lives, but it was all the reason I needed.
The journey from an untrained child to the head of a tankery school is not a short or easy one by any stretch of the imagination. I trained from a young age, putting in long hours in addition to my schoolwork, and being expected to excel in both school and tankery. I had very little free time to enjoy myself or socialize with other children, and before long, I found I had little in common with other girls my age.
Some people would call my childhood a miserable one, but few can deny what I have achieved for myself later in life, because I spent it preparing for tankery. As such, I would call it a good exchange, and proof that you cannot achieve anything meaningful without dedication and sacrifice. I would make that trade again, and I would raise my children to believe this as well.
When I entered middle school, I was quickly chosen as leader for my tankery teams, and led the team to victory time and time again, continuing the process in high school and beyond. Because I had worked so hard, I knew everything I needed to know. Because I was disciplined, I was able to persist, even when times were difficult. And because I had helped at my mother's school, I was able to gain the respect of my subordinates. All this helped further prepare me for the day when I would become head instructor of the Nishizumi School, and thus continue to provide a first-rate education for people who were learning tankery.
Even though my school was one of the best-regarded in the country, and Black Forest, the unofficial school of choice for the Nishizumis, won year after year, I would still have to look to the future, when I could no longer head the Nishizumi School. That was where my eldest daughter, Maho, came in.
Some regard passing down positions from parent to child to be an outdated concept, a concept that is rooted in nepotism and favors sentimentality over practicality. This is not always untrue, but it's only true if it's approached with the wrong mindset- in other words, if you choose your child because she is your child, rather than because you have raised her to be ready for the position. Maho was someone I had known for all her life, whom I had raised for the purpose of succeeding me, and was someone I felt confident was skilled enough for the job.
As an insurance policy of sorts, I had a second daughter, named Miho. As the youngest, she would only succeed the school if something befell Maho, or if Maho was otherwise unable to perform her duties. It was unwise to invest too much one in one possible successor, leaving my school vulnerable to calamity if something unforeseen happened.
But what if Maho succeeding in becoming the ideal Nishizumi heiress? What role would Miho play in that situation? Miho needed only do tankery at an acceptable standard for the Nishizumis. I found it disappointing that she was not actively trying to prove herself to me, or prove herself superior over her older sister, but as Maho was turning out to be a desirable heiress, I was content with the way things were. Miho was not suited to be my heiress, but if she could reliably achieve victory, that would be enough. And if she was committed enough to do her duties, she would be able to use that commitment to go far later in life.
Unfortunately, I soon had reason to question Miho's commitment. After Maho succeeded in winning the tournament for Japan by shooting a tank that was going to save one of hers, Miho asked if she needed to do so- in other words, whether there were things that took precedence over victory. That she would even need to ask indicated that she was not yet sure of it, and her reaction as I gave my answer indicated that she was unwilling to accept it.
Miho did not ask me such questions again, but the fact that she had gave me reason to wonder if she was truly willing to go as far as she had to, or if she would quit as soon as things became difficult for her. How far would she get in life with that kind of half-hearted resolve and unwillingness to make risks and sacrifices?
By contrast, Maho's will seemed to falter at times, and while I intended to cure her of that flaw, I knew that she always did her duty when I needed her to do so. Ultimately, the end result matters most of all to the Nishizumis, and Maho's ability to make the hard decisions and bring about the desired results was why I trusted her to succeed me as head of our school.
The previous night, when I first met with Maho after her victory, I had spoken with her, discussing her tactics in detail with her.
"Using the cliff-side path was a good tactic," I said, "and helped greatly in your efforts against the German team. Their failure to take advantage of such methods led to their undoing."
Maho remained silent, with not even a "Yes, Mother," coming out of her mouth.
"Maho?" I said.
Maho sighed, evidently reluctant to disclose what was on her mind, but knowing that she could not back out at this point.
"Did you hear the news, Mother?" Maho said. "About the tank that had the accident?"
"I did," I said, "as well as that the girls survived, which is fortunate."
"But before then, when the German flag tank rushed out, it was trying to save them," Maho said. "I had no idea what it was doing before, but now that I've seen it, it makes sense. Their sending the flag tank out into the open, a tactic that forfeited all hope of winning, was done because they were no longer trying to win, but to save those girls."
I paused to consider what Maho had said, as well as the sentiments of regret that were obvious even if she did not say them out loud, and there was only one answer I could give.
"Then that's all the more reason why they lost," I said bluntly. "They lost sight of what they were aiming for- victory- and once they did, it was their undoing. Rather than take advantage of what had befallen you, continuing to proceed toward their goal while leaving the rescue to the rescue team, they chose to make themselves vulnerable to try to save the opposing team. And disregarding all that, why would they commit their flag tank to the rescue operation?"
Maho paused a moment, having anticipated my response.
"From what I heard later, it seems likely that they thought victory was no longer possible," Maho said, "and that we would have won even if we had allowed their flag tank to pass and rescue our team's tank. That's why they sent their flag tank after our fallen tank even though they knew they'd likely forfeit any remaining chance of victory. That's why the girl I met for the second time today is angry with me."
I paused and sighed. Maho had accomplished what I had set out to do, and had become an excellent tanker, even at such a young age, but doubt remained within her. I thus decided to do what I could to remove that doubt, so Maho could make the important decisions more easily in the future.
"So you understand the difference between you and them," I said. "Never forget that, and never lose sight of what matters most."
Maho nodded. She seemed less than happy about having to take the shot, but I let it go for the moment. I knew that given that situation in the future, Maho would take the shot again, because she knew what was expected of her.
So what was the difference between Miho and Maho? What caused Miho to shy away from taking the steps required for victory that Maho took? I never was able to pinpointt the exact answer, and could only hope that Miho's shortcomings would not hold us back.
Years passed, with Miho joining Maho in middle school, and helping uphold the Nishizumi tradition. I knew, even without asking Miho, that she still had the same beliefs that led her to ask that question of me years ago, but could not deny that she had contributed greatly to the Nishizumi School's glory by helping her sister win.
Then the incident happened, and Miho sacrificed victory in the tournament finals to save the sinking tank. That decision, combined with her previous reaction to Maho's decision at her first tournament, showed where her priorities lay. And when contrasted with Maho's decision, it showed that she lacked the resolve to even perform at an acceptable level.
In spite of Miho's responsibility for the debacle, Maho would need to be even more mindful than ever of her position. Nothing could completely erase the stain that Miho's actions had made on the Nishizumi School's reputation, but if Maho performed well enough, there would be no doubt that Miho was the one whose actions had cost us the victory.
Maho seemed somewhat upset over what had happened with Miho, but did not openly complain about it. And she fulfilled my expectations, defeating all of Black Forest's opponents until she reached the finals of the tournament. In those regards, she did what I expected of her, and pulled through where it mattered, which is what ultimately matters most, and more than I could say for Miho.
But Miho's deviation from the Nishizumi ideals had worsened in her time away from Black Forest, and all hope of her coming around seemed lost. I thus considered disowning Miho, to ensure that people would understand that whatever actions she chose to take in the future, she would not do so while representing the Nishizumi family or the Nishiizumi School.
Many people would call this an extreme reaction, and they are not entirely wrong, as this was not a step I had originally planned on taking. As much as some call me heartless for my treatment of those who lack my resolve, I hoped Miho would obey me, the course of action I considered most beneficial to her. I believed, given Miho's timidity and lack of resolve, that this threat would be enough to get Miho to fall in line long enough to understand the benefits that come from persistence and determination.
In spite of my reasons, even Maho, who had gone along with everything I asked her to do, was shocked and dismayed that I was going this far. When we watched Miho's match against Pravda together, Maho insisted that I stay until the end, and argued that Miho's persisting and winning a narrow victory was proof of her skill. It seemed that she felt this way all along, but the fact that she was openly expressing such sentiments, knowing I did not agree, was somewhat unprecedented.
In the end, however, Maho resolved to do what she had to, to fulfill my expectations and defeat Miho. I did not expect Miho to be able to win, but thought that the degree of determination she showed, and how she fought against Maho would shed light on what kind of tank commander she was.
The answer I saw from the clash between Maho's forces and Miho's was not what I hoped for or expected. Miho chose to save the M3 Lee when it stalled in the river, even when doing so would seemingly jeopardize her plans, and ultimately prevailed over Maho.
As Maho approached me after the match, I did not see a hint of shame or fear on her face.
"Maho," I said calmly. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
"No, Mother," Maho said. "Only that I'm proud of what Miho has accomplished and the way of tankery she has found for herself."
I simply nodded, and decided to discuss the match with her further when we both returned home. The outcome had not been what I had expected, and both it and Maho's response to my question had given me much to think about.
At that moment, Maho clearly showed what she valued most. She had tried her hardest, and fought as I expected her to, but when she was defeated, she was pleased with the result. Maho was always willing to do her duty, and saw Miho doing tankery her own way as not mutually exclusive with the Nishizumi School's best interests. And since Miho had won against Black Forest, thereby both accomplishing her goals and succeeding on our terms, I found it difficult to contest that belief, however much I wanted to.
So perhaps this was what Maho had hoped to see as a result of her efforts, seeing everything she had done to far as sacrifices necessary to achieve it. Her resolve, while beneficial for the Nishizumi school, was toward an end that was different than I had envisioned. A part of me understood Maho's feelings, and wondered what Miho would accomplish in the future. And if the desire to see what Miho could do with her own way of tankery motivated Maho to do her duties and inherit the Nishizumi School, perhaps that was as good a reason as any.
Author's Notes
Thank you for the reviews, favorites and follows.
severstal: Those are some good points, which I'll take into account when writing Erika in the future. I'm not sure if this is what you're thinking about when saying that this is a Maho-fic, but one ongoing concern I've been dealing with is keeping the story somewhat focused on Maho, when Miho's actions also draw reactions from many of the observers. Similarly, I've also tried to keep most of the scenes relevant to Maho in some way.
I've considered doing a perspective by Koume (who was called "Aoi Mizuno" in Off the Path, before I found out her name) but she seems more focused on Miho.
Much with Erika, I originally envisioned Shiho as more oblivious to Maho's motives, but I decided to make it so that she has some idea, but doesn't care what motive Maho has as long as she fulfills her expectations.
Also like Erika, it's also fairly difficult to portray Shiho sympathetically, but I decided to show her belief that raising Miho and Maho the way she did was beneficial for them, and while she has strict expectations for them, she doesn't completely see them as means to an end. The final scene was written as one possible interpretation for why Shiho sighs and claps in her final scene. Perhaps she still can't accept Miho's style of tankery as part of the Nishizumi style, but she can't deny that Miho has won, which is what matters most for the Nishizumis.
Next Time: Kikuyo, loyal to Shiho and trying to do what she can for her daughters in her position, ponders Maho's decisions and grapples with the question- are there times when the best thing to do is to do nothing at all?
