Final Chapter: Nishizumi Maho: Choices

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, a belief I shared, even if I had no choice in the matter. But my younger sister, Miho, felt that way as well, and that was all the reason I needed.

The concept of striving for the sake of someone else did not always come easily to me, even after I heard our maid, Kikuyo-san, tell me of her devotion and loyalty to Mother. I suppose Mother also knew that the value of something as abstract as tradition would beyond my ken while I was a young girl, and so expected me to do what I was told because she said so, as parents often do. I was able to resign myself to this to some extent, but a part of Miho always kept questioning the Nishizumi style.

Miho and I were different in many ways, while growing up, with Miho being more emotionally open, less confident, and slightly more outgoing than I was. Some might conclude that because of our differences, we would not get along, but that was not the case. I liked what was different about Miho- her kindness, her consideration of others, and her desire to understand and connect with other people. And Miho saw me as an older sister, rather than a commander, or otherwise overly idealized figure. And it stood to reason that if she looked up to me, she would want to emulate me. Part of me was touched, but another part wondered if she could truly bring herself to do what I was doing.

Unfortunately, it was quickly becoming clear to both of us that Miho could not do so. Miho considered quitting at one point, finding it difficult to make friends when so few shared her interest in tankery. If Mother had learned of her saying this, she would have found it absurd that Miho would value friends above tankery. But I, on the other hand, realized that if this much was almost unbearable for her, she would not be able to be the stern, stoic commander the Nishizumis valued, nor would she be able to keep the same sort of distance from others, especially those under her command.

I am a somewhat popular person, apart from the many people who resent or are jealous of me, but have few actual friends. Many of the people who like me, if asked why, will point to my accomplishments as a commander, or the qualities I exhibit in tankery. Erika is one such person, and while we have known each other for a long time, and spent a long time together, Erika will always see me, first and foremost, as the heiress of the Nishizumi School and her superior in one way or another. As such, while there are not any conflicts between us, I doubt we can ever truly be friends, and the same goes for the rest of my subordinates, who do not know me as well. It's somewhat depressing to describe it in those terms, but I have long since come to terms with it.

Miho, on the other hand, interacted with many others her age, who often had tankery as an interest, but it was only a part of themselves, and often a fleeting interest that they only pursued because their friends did. If I had to point to a single influence that caused Miho to turn out differently from me, in spite of being raised in virtually identical circumstances, I would choose the fact that she befriended such people. Her doing so not only signified that she did not see their lesser commitment as a negative trait, but also resulted in her starting to view tankery as something that was fun, and something that she could do with her friends.

I did not consider these differences to be weaknesses on Miho's part. But I knew that her personality and the Nishizumi style would be at odds. As such, the only way for Miho to continue doing tankery was to do so her own way.


In my first year of middle school, which was Miho's final year of elementary school, I competed in and won my first tankery tournament, defeating Germany's team in the tournament finals in spite of an accident in which a tank fell off some unstable ground, injuring some members of my team, which I only found out about after the game had ended. While I was relieved to hear that it was not as bad as it could have been, I did not realize the full truth of what had happened at the time.

Shortly after that happened, in the summer, Miho made friends who shared her interest in tankery, but not the sort who would favor the Nishizumi style. One was a girl whose primary interest was soccer, and apparently enjoyed tankery, but only as something she could do with her friends. Another was a girl who, by all accounts, had difficulty staying focused on anything for any given length of time, much less making it something to which she could devote her life. And the third was a girl who bore resentment toward me for the time when I had, unwittingly, fired on an enemy flag tank that was rescuing one of my teammates.

When she confronted me with that accusation after the practice battle I had with her and the rest of Miho's team, I was surprised and caught off guard, although I realized that in light of this, it made sense why she detested me. And yet, with Miho unwilling to believe I had done such a thing, and with her friend seeming slightly doubtful, it now fell on me to explain myself. How could I admit that the accusation was true without coming off as callous? How could I convince them that I had not known the crew of the German flag tank's benevolent intentions without seeming as though I was making an excuse for my own behavior?

This was a recurring problem for me. I often come off somewhat unfavorably in the eyes of others who do not share the Nishizumi School's values, who view my final choices without knowing what I was choosing between, or what was a stake. Indeed, it made sense that for those who grew up in normal families that there would seem to be no good reason for keeping Miho at a distance. And those who did not share the Nishizumi School's ruthless desire for victory, and erroneously assumed I knew that one of my tanks was in danger would have believed that I should not have fired on the flag tank. For the most part, I accepted such people's judgments of me, secure in my belief that my choices were the best, if not the perfect ones. But now, Miho was seeking an explanation of some sort, so what answer could I give her?

Before I could give my answer, Mother arrived, and I was forced to act as I did around her. And when Miho approached me about it later, with Mother in earshot, I had to take the official Nishizumi School line- that shooting an enemy flag tank on a rescue mission was both proper and necessary. I deeply regretted bringing Miho to tears with that, especially while in my Nishizumi heiress persona, but realized that was something Miho had to hear. Miho had to come to terms with the ruthlessness of her family's style, so she could follow her own path.

Learning of my role in that incident was quite hard on Miho, who valued her comrades over victory and believed that I did the same for mine, and her shock was not helped by the overly cold and dismissive tone I took when breaking the news to her. And while she ultimately forgave me, she realized just how far the Nishizumi School planned on going for the sake of victory- as well as that she could not do the same.

Miho, quite naturally, found all this difficult to accept, and, deeply shaken by what I had said, brought her friends together to directly question Mother, an unusually bold and even desperate move for her. Seeing her there in our living room, waiting hours for our mother, I realized this immediately, as well as how I was responsible, even if I could not say what I needed to while in Mother's presence.

The time when Miho asked Mother about whether I should have fired on the tank drew many different reactions. Mother believed that it was a foolish question. Miho's friend believed it was proof that the Nishizumi school was despicably callous. Miho herself began to despair, knowing what Mother would expect of her in the future. And I knew that the Nishizumi School's ideology was not one that Miho could follow.

Of course, tankery itself was not the problem. Miho made most of her friends through it, and enjoyed it when she was able to forget our family's expectations of her. So I realized at the time that the most important thing I could do was get her to realize that it was possible to do tankery without following our family's style.

Unfortunately, the most difficult part about that was that the responsibility for doing that lay in Miho's own hands. My path was a long and arduous one, but it was one that was clearly paved for me. Miho had to find her path on her own, and I could do little more than encourage her.

Miho's friend also seemed to take this perspective when she approached me to apologize for unfairly making assumptions about me. She also suggested that she would not be in Japan for long, and hoped that Miho would find an answer before she left. The process was not that simple, easy or brief, but Miho was able to resolve herself to it before parting ways with her friend.


Eventually, Miho got into middle school, and began competing in tankery, trying to enjoy it while also fulfilling Mother's expectations. I had responsibilities of my own, as I came to command our middle school's tankery team, and later, Black Forest. I was expected to win, and chose to do so, not only in order to fulfill my obligations, or to fulfill my goal of helping Miho, but also because I believed my teammates deserved as much.

Miho was curious as to why I was so calm in the face of all this pressure. My reason was simple; there were many demands on me, but they were not necessarily competing ones, and could all be fulfilled the same way- winning. I believed that as long as I did well as a commander, Miho would feel significantly less pressure and be able to focus on enjoying tankery. That way, Mother would be satisfied with us, our school would continue to win, and Miho could enjoy herself.

Miho came to Black Forest, and applied to become my Vice-Captain. She did so on Mother's behest, but I was glad to have Miho as my second-in-command. There were those, such as Erika, who were not happy with my choosing my sister as my vice-captain, even if few said it outright, but I believed that as long as Miho did well, then she would prove herself worthy of her position, and my choosing her would be vindicated, something that would be good for both our sakes.

But then the incident in the tournament finals happened, when Miho's ideals and Mother's demands came into conflict. Both Miho's decision to save the tank, and Mother's decision to rebuke her for it once we ended up losing in the end were the ones I had expected from each of them. The outcome was unfortunate, yet inevitable from the moment the tank fell into the water, and Miho was in the optimal position to help. But did this mean that Miho's decision to abandon not only Black Forest, but tankery itself, was inevitable as well? I had suggested that she might end up leaving in the future, and saw it as preferable to forcing herself to do things our way. But I had hoped that she would find her own solution, rather than falsely assume that the only choice was doing tankery the Nishizumi way or not doing it at all- the way Mother hoped she would envision that choice, even if her choice was not the one Mother wanted.


In spite of my feelings, I was still Black Forest's commander, and still had a job to do. Beyond the personal significance to me, Miho's departure from the school also left me with the task of finding a replacement for her. While my mother hoped I would choose Erika, for several reasons, I considered Erika to be the logical choice. She was one of the better applicants, albeit not as good a choice as Miho, and was fairly well-regarded in the school, especially among those who had turned against Miho after she had done what she did- I wasn't certain whether the people who felt that way were in the majority, but they were quite vocal, and they made it difficult for people to speak out in favor of Miho, myself included.

Of course, Erika was not without her flaws. She tended to underestimate the rival schools, and her views on them seemed to run the gamut from viewing them as opponents to whom Black Forest had no business losing, and being unworthy to enter the tournament. I didn't like that mindset for several reasons, particularly in that it ruled out the chance that Pravda might have won anyway, and Miho's decision might not have been the sole factor that caused our loss. She was also hot-tempered and sometimes impulsive, traits that sometimes ended up making her moves predictable in tankery. Most of all, she seemed obsessed with surpassing Miho; I noticed that she seemed to dislike the crew that was endangered during the finals, and wondered if it was not because of their role in their defeat, but their gratitude and respect for her predecessor, their savior.

And yet, while I could not help but compare Erika to Miho, I also had to recognize that Erika, like the rest of the team, was giving her all, and Erika's said efforts were helpful to my goal, even if she didn't share it. I thus made certain to routinely express my appreciation to Erika, although I believed she would not like to hear why I appreciated it.

Miho's crew asked about her, and were disappointed to hear that she had left, feeling quite ashamed of themselves and believing they played a role in her departure. I told them that they should not blame themselves for what happened, but should dedicate themselves to improving themselves for the future. They appreciated what I had to say, and were glad that they had something to do rather than merely feel helpless, a sentiment I agreed with at the moment. Even if I couldn't directly help Miho at this point, keeping busy helped keep my mind off the problem. And with Black Forest determined to avoid another defeat, I had a great deal of work ahead of me, and little time for self-pity.

Through circumstances unknown to me, Miho got back into tankery at her new school, and started on a path that put her in opposition to me.


Shortly after the tournament drawing in my final year of high school, I encountered Miho, as well as her friends, in a nearby tankery café. The odds of this happening were higher than one might expect, considering that we both were drawing the lots as representatives for our respective schools. I was quite surprised to see Miho as Oarai's commander- she had the skill, but I did not think she had any interest in leading her entire team. Something had changed for Miho in our time apart, although I was not sure what.

This encounter should have been a happy coincidence for us. However, Erika was watching me, as were many of the customers in the café, who were involved in tankery to various degrees, and Mother's instructions to be wary of how to deal with Miho still stood. With that in mind, the only thing that seemed appropriate to say in my position was "I didn't think you'd still be doing tankery." Clearly, Miho had as little desire to hear that from me as I had to limit myself to saying that, and I wondered if we would meet again, in a similarly awkward and tense atmosphere, that we were doing tankery for different high schools.

Miho's new friends were not happy to hear me speak to her in such a way, and were even less pleased with Erika doing the same, so they quickly rose up to defend her. It was fairly natural that they, being a new team to the tankery tournament, would not be happy to hear other teams not only being dismissive of their chances of winning, but thinking them unworthy to compete.

I had mixed feelings about this; I was pleased that Miho had people who were willing to stand up for her, but was saddened that my behavior would prevent them from realizing that we were on the same side, in a sense. Of course, that was an inevitable consequence of the actions I had to take as commander, and the Miho's friends' unfavorable conclusions about me were unfortunate, but understandable.

As such, I could only ask Erika to come with me and leave the scene before Miho became any more upset. And even though I found Erika's assessment of Oarai's chances difficult to dispute, even considering how much she underestimated Miho, I silently wished Miho the best of luck in the tournament.


And yet, not unlike Kikuyo-san, there were things that I could do in my position, as I realized, on the spur of the moment, after Oarai's match with Saunders. When I overheard the shorter girl with dark hair mention that her grandmother had been hospitalized, I, on a mere reflex, offered to take her over to the hospital. Erika protested my decision, possibly influenced by her dislike for the Oarai girls, and her reluctance to engage in such acts. I felt slightly guilty about forcing her, our helicopter pilot, to do this, knowing that she would obey my orders in spite of what her objections were or how much she disliked the orders I gave. In spite of that, I believed Miho's friend's need outweighed any objections Erika might have.

As I walked away, I was glad to see that not only was Miho grateful for what I had done, but the significance of it was not lost on her. I believed that if no one else understood what I was trying to do, as long as the sister I hoped to help through my actions did, it would be enough.


This belief, however, only held up as long as I believed that my actions were helping Miho. My mother soon learned about Miho's return to tankery as commander for the Oarai team, and considered disowning her. My attempts to speak out in her defense had no effect on Mother, and the most I could hope for was to get her to continue watching the match between Oarai and Pravda in the semifinals. And while I realized I could not do everything for Miho, the idea that all my efforts and sacrifices could not protect Miho from being cast out of our family filled me with despair and a sense of helplessness.

My description of my mother, the woman who brought me into the world, raised me, taught me about tankery and gave me a sister, may be fairly harsh. But in times like this, when she places great expectations on Miho, there are times when I wonder just how important the Nishizumi school is to Mother, and whether we could not be more like a normal family. I never summoned the nerve to ask Mother directly, but felt as though she answered this question when she said that one day, when I inherited the school, I would understand why she did what she did.

But I knew from personal experience that while people can change, there are some things they cannot do. In all the years Miho had done tankery, she had refused to come around to Mother's perspective, no matter what Mother had done. And there was no amount of time long enough or argument convincing enough to sway me to accept casting Miho out of the family.

After the match ended in Oarai's victory, Mother did not follow through on her plan, although she remained unconvinced of Miho's skill. She considered Miho's way of tankery heresy, and charged me with the task of defeating her in the finals. But Miho had not been disowned, which was as much as I could hope for at the time. The prospect of Mother deciding to disown Miho or holding the threat above her head to force her obedience was a troubling one, but I believed that Miho could do what she believed was right in spite of whatever pressure Mother brought to bear, or win regardless of the stakes.


When I saw Miho at the finals, nothing needed to be said. She was determined to win her way, and did not need Mother's permission or approval. Out of respect for that, I chose to face her with everything I had, and see how she could meet the challenge.

Miho rose to the occasion, against each of my challenges, defeating the best her old school had to offer, including the Maus, a secret weapon we had not deployed in any of our matches in Miho's year at the school.

In the face of all these setbacks, many, particularly Erika, were shocked, not having expected a school like Oarai to be able to push us this far. I remained calm for the sake of my troops, not only out of a desire to maintain my façade, but because I had expected- and hoped for- Miho to do this. As such, the inevitable outcome- Miho, along with her crew, triumphing over my crew- was as much a natural outcome in my eyes as it was an unbelievable one in Erika's.

But in the end, I think Erika came to terms with what had happened, as did Mother, to an extent. Miho had found her own way of tankery, and proven that she could stand against the champions in the tournament. Ultimately, while everything I did was to allow Miho to make her choices, she was the only one who could make the right onesfor herself.

For good or for ill, I have made my choices- which have not always been easy- and people will draw their own conclusions about me. But I believe that because I have made these choices, Miho now makes her own decisions and sets out for her own path. So long as Miho is happy with that path she has chosen, I will be content with the one chosen for me.


Author's Notes

Thank you for reading this fic.

This chapter was largely intended to tie things together, and provide a start-to-finish account from Maho's own perspective, including how she sees the various people who have their own perspectives on her.