Chapter 7: Family Bonds
We continued practicing tankery, redoubling our efforts with the knowledge that we would have to win every match to advance onward, but not knowing what was truly at stake. For Team Anglerfish, there was a personal motivation as well. We had once met Miho's sister and her new vice captain, the former of whom seemed unusually aloof, and the latter of whom was quite condescending toward us, believing we had no chance. I wanted to take that arrogant girl and her school down a peg, since she reminded me of everything about Sodoko that got on my nerves, without her redeeming qualities or any apparent possibility of hidden depths. We also hoped that by defeating Miho's sister, we would show her that Miho's way of tankery, while different from her family's, was not an overly idealistic fantasy but a way by which she could win.
For that reason, and because it didn't involve getting up early, I stayed afterward with the others, doing extra practice on doing a tank. None of us had Miho's experience, and if her sister was even more experienced than she was, we had to get up to her level as soon as possible through hard work.
In our first match against Saunders we, through the results of our training and some clever tactical decisions, defeated one of the favorites to win the tournament, getting off to a promising start. I personally could hardly believe we'd managed such a thing, although I had never been very ambitious.
After the match had ended, as we prepared to leave, I got yet another call on my cell phone. I instinctively checked the number to see if it was any I recognized- whether from Grandma, the hospital, or anyone else- but it was different, causing me to hope that it wasn't any unpleasant news.
"Hello?" I said, picking up the phone.
"Reizei Mako-san? " an unfamiliar woman's voice said. "This is Dr. Kurosaki Yoko. Your grandmother has collapsed again."
"Huh?" was all I could say. This was not the first or second time it happened, but the feeling of fear that seized me was the same, as I remembered Dr. Ishida's grim predictions for the future.
"She's been taken to the hospital in Oarai. She's in critical condition."
"Okay…" I said.
"Please hurry..." she said, as I hung up the phone, having gotten everything she could tell me. The only good news in that call was that my grandmother was still alive and being treated. But how long would this be the case?
As my friends reacted in horror after my attempts at hiding my feelings fell flat when I dropped my phone, I began thinking of how to get to the hospital as quickly as possible, only to be stymied by the Oarai ship not being there. Unlike before, it was not a question of running over; the distance was more than one that would take too long to cross, but it was also across water, something I could not cross without a boat, a plane or something else of the sort. My hopes of reaching my grandmother in time lay in the hands of others, but at the moment, no assistance seemed to be forthcoming.
Swimming might have been impossible, but every minute I stood around was another minute wasted. When I was unaware how much time I had left, there was no such thing as an acceptable delay. With panic and desperation clouding my mind, I began to strip down, as my more level-headed friends tried to restrain me.
Then the last person whose help I expected among those able to help- Miho's sister- showed up offering to loan us her helicopter. It was apparently unplanned, given the other girl's shock and objection in response to it, and Miho's surprise at the gesture. Equally unplanned was Saori's decision to board the helicopter and accompany me to the hospital.
"Saori… thank you for coming," I said a few minutes after takeoff. I was glad to have her here, since the pilot of the helicopter was not a very good conversation partner, especially not after I had taken the wind out of her sails at the café, and ended up inadvertently roping her into flying me against her wishes this time.
"Mako, I'm sure your grandma will be all right now that they've taken her to the hospital," Saori said, almost trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince me.
"That's not the only thing I'm worried about this time," I said.
"What else could you be worried about at a time like this?" Saori said, somewhat incredulously.
"Miho," I said. "You were with me both times when we saw her sister. Surely you've noticed how awkward their encounters were?"
As much as Grandma and I bicker when we meet, it's because both of us have a certain comfort level around each other, that we can afford to be honest about how we feel, rather than putting on a polite facade for someone else. Miho was barely able to greet her sister, and her sister only seemed to express surprise that Miho was still doing tankery, rather than saying something like "Hi, Miho, how have you been?", something even a socially awkward person of few words like myself could reasonably manage. Miho was clearly unable to express herself fully to her sister, and I wondered if her sister was conveying the full extent of her feelings.
"I think so," Saori said. "Miporin got uncomfortable whenever her family or tankery brought up, so I changed the subject. I don't know anything more than what I've told you so far."
That seemed very much like Saori to do so, since she had done so a few times whenever the subject of my deceased parents came up, or the current conversation reached a point at which I would end up having to mention them.
"Naturally, all this seems to suggest that something happened between Miho and her family, and she wanted to deliberately separate herself from them," I said.
When I thought about it, with the maturity gained over several years, I was fortunate enough to have reasonably good parents, and my only regrets were not realizing this earlier and allowing myself to part from them on bad terms. But what memories would Miho have once her mom and sister passed on? If they unexpectedly died, would Miho remember her last conversation with either as being about their disapproval of her approach to tankery?
"Maybe that's the case, given Miporin's family did tankery, and she didn't like it at first," Saori said. "But Miporin's sister didn't know what happened to your grandmother until just a moment before she walked up, and given how the other girl reacted, it seemed to be a spur of the moment decision. It's likely that she wasn't trying to pretend to be anything or give off any image while doing that, and that's more indicative of how she really is,"
"That's possible," I said. "And it seems I now owe the older sister one."
When I reached the hospital, I realized the worst had been averted; my grandmother's condition had been stabilized. But I anxiously stayed awake in the waiting room, hoping that I would be able to hear the news the moment it came.
Saori, having had a long day, and facing a long wait for answers, soon gave out.
"Oh…. I'm so tired," Saori said, after stifling a yawn. "It might be best to get some sleep now while there's not any news coming."
"Go ahead," I said. "I can't sleep at the moment."
Saori turned to me with a concerned look in her eyes. She was good at telling when her friends were in pain, and when she did, she rarely called attention to herself having done so.
Thinking about how perceptive Saori was, I realized at that moment that the rest of my friends were likely to question why my parents were not even coming to visit my grandmother, or why I never talked about them.
"Oh, and Saori?" I said. "Miho and the others will probably ask about my grandma and my parents. You can tell them everything if you want.".
"Why not tell them yourself?" Saori said, slightly uncomfortable about speaking on my behalf.
"I'm not good at talking about such things," I said. "In my mind, I feel like I'm making excuses for myself when I do. The truth of the matter is, I made a mistake back then and I'm trying to make up for it now. I don't want, need or deserve their pity, but I believe they should know about this part of me."
"But for better or worse, you have been influenced by what happened," Saori said. "And I think it's admirable that you're willing to go so far for your grandma."
"Then perhaps you can say it better than I ever could," I said, touched by this simple, yet elegant description of the significance of the loss of my parents.
"Ok," Saori said, as she lay down with her head in my lap. "G'night, Mako…" she said, sleepily. "Wake me when there's news."
I didn't end up getting any sleep that night, even as Saori slept. This had happened to me in the past when I was worried about Grandma; I would be afraid to fall asleep out of the fear that I would wake up to unpleasant news about her.
An interminable wait later, I got some news.
"Reizei-san, your grandmother is awake and is ready to see you," a nurse said.
I was pleased to hear that Grandma had woken up. But as I woke up Saori and beckoned her to come with me, I began to wonder what I would see when I reached her. Just what were the extent of her injuries this time? Had she suffered any permanent damage? My imagination had a tendency to run wild at times like these, and I never liked what it came up with.
"I'm coming in, Grandma," I said, opening the door. I saw Grandma sitting up in bed, looking barely awake.
"Mako…. Saori-chan…. You came…" she said.
"Grandma…" I said.
An awkward moment passed, as Grandma stared at her two visitors, noticing the worry on our faces, and her expression turned worried as well. After several moments.
"What day is it today?" Grandma said.
"It's a Sunday," I said.
"So I suppose you didn't miss any school for this, this time" Grandma said. I could feel the tension draining from the room.
"Grandma, I'm late a lot, but I've only missed school about 12 times," I said.
"Most people have far less than that," Grandma said, her voice gradually rising. "When I was your age, I had perfect attendance!"
As much as Grandma needed rest and would not benefit from exerting herself, even orally, it was refreshing to hear her yell at me again.
A while later, the rest of Team Anglerfish showed up in Grandma's hospital room. Grandma was remarkably indifferent about my participation in tankery, although after hearing about what happened with Hana's mother, I counted myself fortunate for that. She wasn't going to cheer me on, but I could count on her not doing anything to interfere or make my participation more difficult, and I was grateful for that.
Grandma made an interesting point during our meeting- the rest of my team most likely was worried about me- their friend and teammate- as opposed to her- someone whom they described as "Mako's grandma," "Reizei-san's grandmother," or other terms that described her relation to me. Even Saori only met her through me. But I got the feeling that Miho was the kind of person who could care deeply for people she had only recently met, a trait her sister may well have shared. I was ultimately unable to contest that, although I was unable to express my thanks as eloquently as she desired.
Ultimately, Grandma insisted that we get going. As usual, Grandma disliked being pitied or people bending over backwards for her, especially when they had more important things to do- not only did I have my classes, but now there was tankery to do, and Grandma didn't want my absence to also impact my teammates. Satisfied with what I had been able to see and hear, and relieved for the moment, I decided to leave. Moments after I exited the room, I overheard Grandma, in a soft voice, express her gratitude to my friends for looking after me, which Miho graciously accepted. Perhaps she didn't want to express it with me around, but Grandma always cared for and appreciated my friends.
As I overheard what she was saying, I slowly transitioned from standing to leaning, from leaning to sitting, and from sitting to lying on my side, almost asleep. It was as though my body had borrowed from my reserves of stamina to stay awake this long, and was now paying it back with interest.
"Mako-san seems to have fallen asleep," Miho said, her voice coming through as I lay there, not fully asleep.
"She stayed up all night last night," Saori said. "It's a bit surprising she hasn't conked out before now, even considering the circumstances,"
"I'd like to let her sleep, but we do need to get back," Miho said.
"Then please leave Reizei-san to me," Hana said. She, a tall and surprisingly strong girl, lifted me onto her back, resulting in me partially waking up. She then placed something- which I think was her hat- on my head. As I settled into her lap, I began resting more comfortably and began drifting off to sleep.
As I slept, I overheard the voices of my teammates, as they discussed what had happened to my family. From what I heard, they did not regard me with pity, but seemed to be coming to understand the things I did not express, and the reasons behind my actions. I hoped my story would help Hana understand how important it was to reconcile with her mother soon, regardless of who was at fault for their estrangement. I hoped it would help Miho to realize that even if she was distant from her family, she still had them around, and with them being alive, the possibility to renew her bond with them. I hoped it would help Yukari appreciate her supportive, loving and living parents, if she did not already. Saori's gesture required not only a great amount of compassion, but also insight, and few possessed both in such quantities.
"Saori chose her friends well," I thought, as I slept.
Naturally, I ended up getting far less sleep than I needed, and had to be carried to school by Saori and Miho. As Sodoko's voice woke me up, I stumbled forward and hugged her, apparently not thinking anything of what I had done while I was half asleep. It was amusing seeing Sodoko's flustered and embarrassed reaction to this simple gesture of human affection, and I kept her reaction in mind for the future.
After we got back, we got to work preparing to fight Anzio in the second round. I found myself stepping up to the plate to help Miho again, this time to help tutor some of the other tankery members in driving. As I did when I tutored Saori long ago, I found it difficult to teach others while taking into account that they learned at a different pace. But we had to improve our performance to advance in the tournament, and it fell upon me to do it. Miho was overloaded with chores and requests from the team, and the rest of Anglerfish Team had to do what they could to help lighten her load.
"So why are a bunch of volleyball players doing tankery, anyway?" I asked the volleyball team, also known as Duck Team, during my lesson for them.
"We play volleyball, but the volleyball team got cut as a school club," their driver said. "What was it that the president said about that…?"
"She said, 'If we win the tournament, I'll be able to consider renewing it next year,' when I asked her about whether I could get the team restarted if we won the tournament," the captain said. "I pretty much came up on the idea on a whim after hearing that tankery was getting re-established when volleyball was getting cut. I thought, maybe they considered participation in tankery important for some reason and winning in it would help us."
I had the urge to laugh at their motivation, especially considering the president was a third-year, but as someone who participated for the credits and tardiness passes, among other reasons, I had no room to talk.
"Reizei-senpai, what about you?" the blonde member said.
"I suppose I'll have to admit that the credits and tardiness passes appeal to me," I said. "So between your goal and mine, as well as Saori's quest to find a guy and Rabbit Team's hopes of staying on good terms with the boys in their lives, I suppose, I'm not the only one with an ulterior motive."
"You could say that," the gunner said. "But this team works surprisingly well together, since we might have different desires, but we fulfill them the same way, by winning. Training hard day in and day out, winning as an underdog against some of your strongest rivals in the nation, doing it together with old and new friends- it's really like an athlete's dream come true!" She became progressively more excited as she told me about how much she enjoyed it, and ended with a whoop and a fist pump.
Saori had, around this time, told me that hot-blooded people rode in tanks, as I had observed that my low blood pressure had improved. I also felt myself getting caught up in their pace, and pushing myself farther. My teammates talked about being changed in different ways, especially Miho, who reported that she enjoyed tankery more than she used to. I suspected that tehere had been a time in the past when she had forced herself to do tankery; it was possible she and I were not so different in learning to like what we had to do.
So perhaps I was changing in response to the actions of those around me, especially when I was on a team with those who had little in common with me. But when I thought about it, I realized it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. My blood pressure becoming better enabled me to be more energetic during the day. Getting up on time became easier, and with it, coming to school on time. That which had seemed odious and overly difficult before was becoming more tolerable now, although I did not presume to believe that difficult times were behind me.
We defeated Anzio, a surprisingly unremarkable opponent except for their arrogant and competition-obsessed commander. At no point, however, did it occur to me to just let her have her victory she wanted so badly in order to appease her, as I might have in the past. She shrugged off Miho's suggestion that her comrades were most important, and said that if she believed that, she should put in all her efforts to secure victory for them. Miho couldn't quite accept that, but I think she understood the principle- that her actions influenced the fates of other people. I was also slowly beginning to realize this, as the quality of my participation in the tournament helped determine whether we would win and move on, or lose and drop out, and the entire team had to live with the consequences. Like when I tutored Saori, this was not something at which I could afford to fail; even if the time came when I had nothing to gain or lose, others were still counting on me.
Around that time, I learned that Miho had, while she was still in Black Forest during the last tournament, abandoned her flag tank to save the crew of another that had fallen into a river in the middle of a match. Apparently that was why her successor as vice captain greeted her with contempt, and the backlash against her decision was why she had chosen to leave Black Forest. Hearing the story made me wonder- were there really people who would abandon their comrades for the pursuit of victory in a mere national tournament? That degree of dedication- or rather, obsession- struck me as going beyond the degree I would dismiss as a sort of obnoxious zeal that people like Sodoko put into their pursuits, and coming off as something rather disturbing and potentially harmful to others. It was at this moment that I realized just how glad I was that Miho was my commander, and realized that people took things to worse extremes and for worse reasons than Sodoko's merely annoying and not necessarily uncompromising adherence to the rules.
Sodoko and the others volunteered for tankery after the match with Anzio, crewing the Char B1 Bis, instead of Yukari, Erwin and one of the Freshman Team's gunners, who had crewed it against Anzio. As expected, it hurt Sodoko's pride to accept help from me, who was late all the time. Could she look down on me for being late if she was depending on my help? What did it say about her that she would have to turn to me for help on such a matter?
Still, it was a nice development for her. She swallowed some of her pride in accepting help from me, and in so doing, became more bearable. Perhaps for her, this was something she had to bear with the same way I had to deal with getting up early. In that regard, we were not so different, making sacrifices for our participation in tankery, and I think we were beginning to understand each other.
As we prepared for our semifinals match with Pravda, I realized something was amiss. The Student Council, including the usually laid-back president, was uncharacteristically adamant that we had to win, even though few of us seriously expected to take first place in our first year, and most of us, while interested in getting first place, did not have a compelling desire to do so. We understood tankery well enough to see how prestigious winning the tournament was, but saw it beyond our reach, much like a mountaineer saw climbing Mount Everest. Granted, the student council, being third-years, would not have another chance at this school, but they seemed unusually desperate. Miho told me that they had invited her to dinner to discuss something with her, but she came away as ignorant about what was going on as everyone else was. She seemed poor at keeping secrets, and moreover, not even putting the effort to do so in this case, so I had no reason to doubt that if anyone was withholding information, Miho was not one of them.
Pravda's match initially seemed to go well, but we fell into a trap. Cornered in a building, we were given three hours to surrender. Miho, deciding that continuing would put the students at risk of coming to harm in the ensuing shootout, considered surrendering. I sympathized with her motives; there are limits to how far you can persevere, and I had to wonder just how important winning was, anyway.
It was at that point that the student council revealed the true reason for their desperation- if Oarai did not secure first place in the tournament, the school would be shut down. Miho had come to call Oarai home, and not wanting to lose that home, and realizing that more people besides herself and even the tankery team would be affected by her defeat or surrender, chose not to surrender and instead decided to have us prepare to resume the fight over the course of the three hours.
Sodoko and I teamed up once again, to scout out the enemy tanks, succeeding in finding the number, positions and models of the Pravda tanks, although we were detected by the enemy in the process. The Oarai tankery program, if nothing else, brought together people who would otherwise not have interacted, for a common purpose.
Even with that common purpose and the newly found sense of urgency, the morale of the team gradually declined, especially those who had nothing to do but sit around in the cold and wait to resume action, all while tormented by doubt and despair. No one wanted the school to close, and many of us had separate goals we hoped to accomplish through tankery. But we were hungry, tired and cold, and worst of all, we were losing hope in victory, especially with defeat seeming inevitable and a stronger opponent waiting in the next match.
But then Miho did the unexpected and led us in the Ankou Dance. After a moment, everyone instinctively understood what she was trying to get across. The Student Council had proposed that we do the dance if we lost to St. Gloriana, as a way of motivating us. But they too chose to take part when the time came, signifying that they too shared in our defeat and its consequences. Miho led by example, and got everyone else to follow her, no matter how humiliating what she did was, or how hopeless the battle seemed. And when the messenger came back minutes later, everyone was willing to follow Miho into facing Pravda High. We all trusted her to lead us to victory while protecting us, and she succeeded at both.
When we saw Pravda's commander, Katyusha, again, her ego was deflated, and she calmly and graciously accepted defeat. Perhaps this was proof that people could recognize when they were defeated and change their minds when something happened to sufficiently upset their worldview.
Katyusha was not the only one to change her mind in a way we never had thought possible, though.
On a Saturday before the final round of the tournament, Hana met her mother again at a flower exhibition, and her mother was willing to accept her new approach to flower arranging, as well as the role tankery played in it.
After her admission of her change of heart, she began talking with Hana amicably about the flower arrangement and other things. Perhaps this was their usual form of interaction, like Grandma and I were brutally honest with each other; it fit a polite and traditional woman the same way my relationship fit a cranky and bitter old woman. Perhaps Hana had always believed her mother would come around, and rightly so.
"Oh, and before I forget, Mother," Hana said. "This is Reizei-san, one of my friends and teammates from tankery. You met Nishizumi-san, Takebe-san and Akiyama-san before, but not her." Hana, while always well-mannered, seemed a touch more formal and polite, even concerning her friends, when in her mother's presence.
"Nice to meet you," I said, bowing, and Hana's mother did the same.
"Likewise, Reizei-san," Hana's mother said, before turning to Miho. "And Nishizumi-san?"
"Yes, ma'am?" Miho said.
"This may sound like an odd thing to apologize for, considering recent events, but I would like to say that I am sorry for what I said earlier. Not only was it no way to act toward my daughter, but Shinzaburou told me about your family's feats in tankery, and it must have seemed quite rude to you to have them talked about so dismissively."
"Hmm…" Miho said. "Actually… I don't mind, maybe because I don't think I'm a very 'good' Nishizumi. I left tankery for a while because I couldn't win at all costs like my mother demanded. I got involved again because, ironically, your daughter, as well as Saori-san, was willing to defend my decision not to, and I wanted to be in the same class as the two of them."
"Hana-san has, as I said before, always upheld the Isuzu style, but until now, her flowers were, although aesthetically pleasing, unoriginal and formulaic," Hana's mother said. "I may not know much about tankery, but perhaps new influences and new ideals may be necessary to revitalize your family's school. I also believe that when it comes down to it, your mother loves and cares about you; perhaps given the right reminder, she will be able to remember this. As my anger subsided, I realized how much I had wronged my daughter, and how much I missed her. Perhaps your own mother could make a similar realization under the right circumstances."
"Thank you, ma'am," Miho said.
"I must be off soon," Hana's mother said. "Again, Hana-san, please accept my apologies, as well as my congratulations over your defeating Pravda, and my wishes for good luck against Black Forest."
"Thank you, Mother," Hana said, touched. After an exchange of bows between daughter and mother, her mother left.
Hana's mother reminded me of mine in a few regards. She was sometimes emotional and had a tendency to take it personally when her daughter didn't do as she said, but deeply cared for and believed in her daughter. There were few things that brought me greater joy than seeing that Hana had succeeded where I had failed, and mended her relationship with her mother.
But while Hana's family issues had been resolved, Miho still had to deal with hers. Perhaps a victory over her sister would convince their mother that Miho was not weak or incompetent, and would convince her sister to accept her and her way of tankery.
As we headed to the final battle, I realized I was fighting for many reasons other than my own personal desires and obligations. This team had many people who joined for many different reasons, but we shared victory and defeat. Failure was something none of us could accept, and victory was something that would require all of our full efforts to achieve, including mine. And for these reasons, even if it was troublesome, tiring or unpleasant, I resolved to go as far as I needed in order to win.
Author's Notes
Thank you for the reviews.
severstal: Yes, I believe she chose it because it seemed easiest, although I suspect that she, like Miho (who has given relatively little indication of being interested in her pre-tankery choice, incense), didn't put too much thought into that choice.
I wrote Mako's phone call from the hospital in Episode 6 to match the dialogue that we heard Mako talking about (which gives no conclusive indication to the friends as to what she's talking about or who she's talking to), as well as the approximate silences in each of the caller's responses.
Yuri makes an interesting contrast to Shiho for a few reasons. She's typically warmer and more caring toward Hana than Shiho is, and gets along better with her friends ("It's good to see that you're doing well. Could you introduce me to everyone" vs. "So Miho's here as well." and later "And who are these girls? I believe I instructed Kikuyo to send them away."). Even during the disowning scene, Yuri tries to convince Hana that her flower arrangement is good according to the Isuzu style, and seems worried that something is troubling Hana. Shiho, by contrast, considers Miho a disgrace to the family. Her disowning Hana seems to be a spur of the moment decision while she's upset, while Shiho's decision to disown or threaten to disown Miho seems to be one she gave a lot of thought to. As such, it's not unreasonable for Hana to believe that her mother will reconsider.
The scene between Mako and Saori in the helicopter was originally planned as a one-shot to explore what they talked about, and why Mako worries about Miho, as Saori told Miho in Episode 7.
Doctors Kurosaki and Ishida are named after Ichigo and Uryu's fathers from Bleach. Dr. Kurosaki's given name is derived from Yoko Sagisawa, the nurse from Mai-Hime (alternatively, Yoko Helene of Mai-Otome).
I've noticed Japanese makes it slightly more complex for kids to politely talk to their friends' parents, especially considering that you might be on a last-name-basis with said friends (Miho's still calling Hana "Isuzu-san" around the time she meets Yuri for the first time).
This was a fairly long chapter, since it essentially covered almost half the series (Episodes 5-10), but I liked where it started and ended, as it looked at the theme of family in the series. There will be two more chapters- one dealing with the finals and a concluding chapter.
