The knock on the door came precisely two-thirds of the way through afternoon teatime, on the Thursday of the seventh week of school.
Assam glanced at the door of the parlor, then returned her attention to her teacup. She took another small sip from it, then returned it to its proper place on the table before her and folded her hands on her lap.
"Pekoe, darling," Darjeeling said, not looking up from her own cup, "Would you be so kind as to see what that is about?"
"Yes, Darjeeling-sama."
The table's third occupant stood from her chair with some haste—though not enough to appear unseemly—and moved to the door at the correct pace, moderately quickly yet still dignified. She improves steadily every day.
Darjeeling had chosen to brew assam tea today, to go with their usual scones and finger sandwiches. Likely it was an attempt at an olive branch. Perhaps it was not, or perhaps she just fancied the taste today, but those options were doubtful. Darjeeling never did anything without a good reason. Or what she considered to be one at least.
Across the table, Darjeeling took another sip from her own cup, then delicately placed it back on her saucer and folded her hands just as Assam had. A silence fell over the room, broken only by Orange Pekoe's murmured conversation with whomever it was at the door.
It was… vexing. For the past two years of high school, and even before that in middle school, this little daily ritual had been a time for relaxation and the simple pleasure of enjoying the company of one's closest friends. Something Assam sorely needed now, more than ever, as she settled into the role of the Vice-Captain of Saint Gloriana's Girls College's Senshado Team. Something she had instead been denied since the start of the year, due to one reason and one reason alone.
The muffled sounds of dainty footsteps on the carpet announced Orange Pekoe's return to the table, as did the click of the door closing. Pekoe carried in front of her a silver platter, with a folded piece of paper sealed in red wax on its surface. All three of them knew very well that said paper was standard copy paper from one of the laser printers in the main office suite just down the hall here in the Senshado headquarters building, but proper presentation was still essential, even in something as small as this. It was one of the core elements of the Saint Gloriana way.
"Thank you, Pekoe." Darjeeling took the paper from the plate, broke the seal with her thumb, flicked it open, and began to read. "Please place the plate on the sideboard, and then you may resume your seat." Pekoe did as instructed. Assam could see that the girl was positively dying to hear what the document she had just delivered contained, but she sat primly in her seat. She would say nothing until Darjeeling did, and thereby opened the subject for discussion. Darjeeling chose well in this one, at least. We chose well.
In the latter half of the previous school year, as their time to assume the mantle of Saint Gloriana's Senshado leadership had drawn closer, Darjeeling and Assam had already begun to consider who would be their own successors. They had looked at the then-first years of Saint Gloriana, as well as the girls in the last year of the middle school program. Of all the candidates surveyed, this one had stood out. She checked all the boxes, both on the battlefield and off. On the battlefield, she had been a well above average tank commander by the standards of the middle school. She had been moved to the position of the command tank's loader for this year, the better to observe Darjeeling, but would move back in due course. Off the battlefield, she displayed all the necessary qualities of a member of the Tea Garden, or at least showed promise in developing them under proper tutelage. The girl was composed, polite, and elegant to the appropriate level for her age and grade, she came from a family of means, and so on. To become a member of the Garden, one needed to be sponsored by a current member (who was in their own second or third year of membership), and then have one's candidacy approved by at least three other members. When Darjeeling had put forward the new first year as a candidate on the first day of school, the suitability had been so obvious that there had been no shortage at all of upperclassmen willing to endorse her.
In the end, Orange Pekoe had had her application signed by the most prestigious names possible at the school: Assam herself, the Alumni Association Liaison, and the Student Council President (the last was almost entirely a ceremonial job with no actual power or real duties, but it was prestigious). It was obvious for all to see that the Captaincy of Saint Gloriana Senshado would be in excellent hands for the next two years.
Darjeeling laid the printout to the side and picked up her teacup once more. Assam knew her well enough to know that Darjeeling was enjoying the feeling of dragging out the suspense and tension just that little bit longer, the better to heighten the drama of the reveal. For the longest time, it had merely been one of Darjeeling's quirks, something Assam found more amusing than anything… but of late almost everything her oldest friend did seemed to annoy her instead.
It is no one's fault but hers. Why? Why is she so obsessed with her?!
Darjeeling replaced her teacup on its saucer, and spoke. "It would seem that we have received a challenge to a practice match from a place called Ooarai Girls Academy."
From where?
Assam did not need to look at Pekoe to know that the girl's face registered polite surprise. Assam was in better control of her own expression, settling for merely raising an eyebrow.
"I must confess, Darjeeling-sama, I have never heard of such a place." It still felt so odd, to refer to the girl that had been her closest companion since kindergarten as "sama". That every other girl in the school save one was required to address Darjeeling as such by decades of tradition and unwritten rules did not make the word feel any less foreign on her tongue.
"Nor have I. Though it is more understandable in my case than in yours, Assam, given certain of the duties of your position."
Assam bristled at the rebuke, though she did not show it outwardly. Not in front of Pekoe. She inclined her head. "My sincere apologies, Darjeeling-sama. I can only say that this school has not participated in any matches so far this year, nor indeed in any previous year."
"That is only to be expected, Assam. The missive makes mention of the fact that the paperwork to begin the creation of a Senshado team was only filed at the beginning of this year." Which would have been noted on the Senshado Federation's website, and which you should hence have been aware of, Darjeeling's eyes said.
"My sympathies for them, in that case. They are fortunate that all of their forms were not lost in the minutiae of the Federation's bureaucracy. The Federation has, on occasion, displayed a troubling inability to properly prioritize such things." An ability which I do possess, Darjeeling, as you well know. And proper prioritization of intelligence requires that I commit to memorization the latest equipment readiness reports of Kuromorimine and personnel evaluations of Pravda long before I deign to consider the Arsenal Statement of an infant startup.
"Darjeeling-sama," Orange Pekoe said hesitantly, "what will we do?"
Darjeeling did not answer immediately. Instead, she ran her fingers over the plate of finger sandwiches, not actually touching any of them, until she selected one that did not on the surface appear any different from its fellows. She bit into it, chewed, and swallowed with precise and delicate motions. "This letter is intriguingly constructed. It displays the correct awareness of the protocols for our address. Its diction is reasonable, and the general terminology chosen passable. It cannot be called truly ladylike, not by our standards, but it is adequate for a school of their station. Surprisingly so."
Pekoe looked even more confused at that. Assam wasn't. "You think to accept the challenge of this… 'Ora'?"
"'Ooarai', Assam. They are a school, not some dreadful… anime." Darjeeling shuddered. "And yes, I believe I shall."
Pekoe's excitement was apparent. Too much so. Her progress is fast, but she still has far to go. "Darjeeling-sama? What tanks are we going to use? When are we going to play it? And where?"
"Pekoe, darling." Darjeeling's voice was gentle but firm. "I shall answer one of your questions, and one only, as that is the proper manner in which questions should be asked." The Captain of Saint Gloriana Senshado waited until her heir looked properly abashed, then continued. "I do not, yet, know which tanks we shall use, save one. The three of us shall be riding in Colossus." It would seem that she is not too impressed with this school, then. Every girl in Saint Gloriana Senshado was qualified on at least two of the team's various models of tanks. Darjeeling could easily have chosen a Matilda instead of their normal Churchill to be the command tank. "I shall decide on the remainder of our lineup when we have learned more about this school and settled more details of the match with them. Now, then, Pekoe, I have a question for you."
"Yes, Darjeeling-sama?"
"Do you believe you remember enough of how I constructed my responses to Saunders and BC Freedom earlier this year to write our acceptance of Ooarai's challenge?"
"I do, Darjeeling-sama."
"Kindly do so, then. You may take your teacup with you. When you have finished, I should very much like to see your handiwork."
Orange Pekoe stood, bowed, collected her teacup, and departed the parlor. The door clicked shut behind her, and another silence fell.
Assam broke it.
"I am curious, Darjeeling-sama. What were the answers to Pekoe's other questions? Where and when do you intend to hold this match?"
"Ooarai has already specified that for us, it would seem. We are to fight on either the Friday or Saturday of this coming week, in the home port of their schoolship."
"They presume to dictate that to us?"
"Indeed they do. However, the logistics of these matters likely would dictate that the match took place on those days anyway, and their home port is not so far from Yokohama. It shall be a nice excursion, and may have numerous benefits for recruiting and visibility in our local area."
"Regardless, we should not simply agree to those terms without some sort of counterproposal."
"And why not, pray tell? It would be merely for the sake of appearances."
"Appearances and propriety are important, Darjeeling-sama."
"Are you attempting to imply something, Assam?"
"Only that I do not understand why you are accepting this challenge at all, Darjeeling-sama. We have already held two practice matches so far this year, against competition vastly superior to whatever this startup shall be able to offer us. Competition, moreover, that did not presume to dictate anything to us whatsoever, though they would have been infinitely more entitled to do so." Assam drummed her fingers on the tabletop, and came to a decision. Time to force this back into the open. "And if I may be so bold, I do not find your reasons for tolerating that dictation convincing. I think you are entertaining misguided ideas of equality with these lesser schools, and I do believe I know the source."
"Assam." Darjeeling's voice was curt. "We have already discussed this matter. I do not wish to revisit it at present time."
"Unfortunately, Darjeeling, I do." The phrase hung in the air. Appearances were everything… when there was someone to make appearances to. "Your obsession with that girl is unseemly."
"You overstep yourself."
"I address you in public and in the presence of others with the respect due your position. But we have known each other since kindergarten, and if you believe that you are now somehow immune to my criticism in this setting, criticism you have fully earned, you are sorely mistaken." Assam glared across the table. "Ever since the Saunders match, you have been utterly focused on her. She herself is unworthy in every way, but to associate with her as you have is unbecoming both for our Captain and a member of the Tea Garden. It needs to stop, immediately, and the access and privileges you have given her within our organization ought to be revoked as well."
"I have explained to you multiple times the benefits that cultivating her brings to Saint Gloriana. I am afraid that I do not know how I could have been any clearer."
"You couldn't have been any clearer. Allow me to also make myself clear that I am of the opinion that whatever benefits exist are not worth the stain on our reputation."
"Sadly, Assam, I believe you will find that it is my opinion that matters more." Darjeeling's voice was frigid. "I had hoped, indeed I continue to hope, that you would be more open-minded and far-sighted on this matter. Be that as it may. I cannot force you to accept her, but I am your Team Captain and I can order you to govern your conduct towards her publicly. For starters, she has a name."
"One that I will not use."
"One that you will use from this day forward, or find yourself removed from the Vice-Captaincy." The two glared at each other a moment more. "And as to the reasons why I intend to accept their challenge and overlook the impertinence of their chosen time and location, there are two. The first is that to provide a lesser school with what will be the only chance they have to complete a practice match and thereby become eligible for the tournament is an act of charity. Charity that, might I remind you, is entirely in keeping with the principles of ladyship that govern our Tea Garden. The second reason is to be found on this missive." Darjeeling picked up the letter from Ooarai again, and handed it to Assam.
Assam took it and began to read. It was, as Darjeeling had told Pekoe, composed passably well for a girl that did not hail from Saint Gloriana. Certainly not well enough to inspire acceptance on its own, though. I fail to see why this letter has any bearing… Assam reached the bottom of the letter, and saw the name typed there.
"Okay, everyone! Ferry ride to shore is going to take three hours, so we need you to be here at the hangar an hour earlier than normal! Yes, even you, Mako. I promise you'll be able to sleep on the ferry. Also, remember, we're not going to be returning to the ship for almost a week, so make sure you PACK ACCORDINGLY! All of you, make sure you go to bed early tonight, okay? Dismissed!" The team cheered as Koume finished, then began leaving the hangar to return to their homes and apartments.
It was the Wednesday of the eighth week of school. On shore, in Ooarai Town, the Anglerfish Festival had now been ongoing for four days, with the Ooarai schoolship pulled in as close to shore as its massive draft would allow (read: still not within sight of land). Since the Festival was such a central event in the culture of their prefecture, every girl in the school was allotted a day to go ashore and partake in it. They would leave on the ferry in the morning, spend the day in the town (many of them meeting up with their families as well), and return to the schoolship at nightfall.
The exception was the Senshado Team. They had been allotted three days in Ooarai Town; Thursday enjoying the Festival like everyone else, the match against Saint Gloriana on Friday, and the closing ceremony on Saturday.
Koume turned, and began to walk to where Miho was conferring with the auto club. This would be the last opportunity to give the tanks a checkup before the trip to shore, so Koume and Miho were going to stay the extra hour and help the auto club with it. When I get home, cook dinner, eat it while on the call with Mom and Dad, half an hour to digest, then straight to bed.
They had received Saint Gloriana's acceptance of their challenge by nightfall on the day they'd sent it (worded with very excessive refinement and formality), and had spent the next four days working out all the various scheduling and logistics kinks with the other school. To Koume's surprise, the Student Council had actually seemed to heed Miho's warning about the proper way to address Saint Gloriana, or at least Kadotani and Koyama had. The two of them had insisted on reviewing everything Kawashima wrote before she sent it off.
They hadn't just been in contact with Gloriana, either: as soon as they'd received the major school's acceptance of the time and place, they'd contacted the Senshado Federation to inform them of the match, to request that an officiating crew be sent out, and to register for the National Tournament's qualifiers. It was not necessary to have actually played your practice match to be eligible, thank the gods, only to have set one up.
Koume reached Miho and the auto club. The five of them looked as tired as she felt. And the worst is still to come. We're all going to be utterly exhausted by this time next week.
"The auto club wants to start checking the Lee first," Miho said.
"Yeah, the better to make sure those first years didn't screw it-," Suzuki said, before Hoshino elbowed her in the ribs. Koume glared at them, then began to walk over to the large, pink, American tank.
That's another thing to thank all the gods for; that Saint Gloriana isn't going to actually see our tanks until we're on the battlefield. If they saw this collection, they'd think we weren't taking them seriously.
In addition to having to deal with setting up the practice match, the past five days and change had been eventful for Miho and Koume in other ways. The team had, after a vote, chosen the blue denim jacket from the Fukushima designer to be their official uniform. They'd notified the company, and been told in turn that representatives would be sent out to the carrier sometime next week (in other words, during qualifier week) to take their measurements. More immediately, the paint for the tanks that they'd ordered the previous week had arrived on Monday, and a good portion of afternoon practice that day had been devoted to applying it.
Koume had been torn, as she'd watched the crews happily paint their tanks. On the one hand, they were very obviously having fun personalizing the tanks like this. On the other hand…
I just don't get how someone could see abusing these poor tanks like this as "fun".
Koume inspected the left side track of the Lee, looking for any damaged pins or track links, as Miho did the same on the right hand side and the auto club girls inspected the engine.
Rabbit Team had even painted the road wheels pink.
It was just as bad on her own tank, which the Student Council had decided to paint shiny gold ("Because gold is inherently the greatest of colors, given to winners, and all other colors are equally inferior before it", Kadotani had said with a straight face). It was even worse on Hippo Team's StuG; all four of the history club had imprinted their own personal obsession onto the poor assault gun. The result was a red-and-gold eyesore covered in Latin and German sayings, approximations of Bakumatsu-period art in random places on the hull, and worst of all, four three-meter-high flags in feudal Japanese style. Miho's Panzer 4 had escaped the madness externally, thanks to a compromise between Yukari and Saori… but the flip side of that compromise, as Koume had learned when she'd taken a peek inside, was that Saori had decorated the entire interior of the tank. Throw pillows on the seats, accessories on the radio, air fresheners on the breech block of the gun. Saori had thrown so much frou-frou crap in there that it would seriously compromise the tank's fighting effectiveness. That's how I know Miho really is committed to making this fun for everyone.
Oddly, it was Duck Team that had kept their heads the most throughout the "painting incident," as Koume privately called it. The Type 89 was still its normal beige, with the only concession to weird stuff being the character for "Guts!" painted on the side of its turret. No different from what Pravda does with their weird Russian slogans. To think Koume had once pegged Isobe Noriko as a total meathead. People can be more complex than first impressions let on.
The Lee was in reasonable shape. The tracks would hold through a match, assuming they weren't shot off, and the auto club confirmed that the engine (and gearbox) were in good working order. The six of them moved on to the Panzer 4, and then to the StuG.
"I still think we should have had them load the trailers today, Miho," Koume said as they began looking the assault gun over.
"Koume, we already spent afternoon practice on Monday painting the tanks. If we'd skipped drills today too, that would mean we'd only get one day of practice in the whole week. We have Saint Gloriana on Friday and then Maginot next Monday for our qualifier." The days of the qualifiers were, in theory, randomly chosen (along with the opponent), but Koume couldn't help but feel at this point that she had seriously offended one or more of the gods. A two day turnaround between matches. I have literally never heard of that in this sport before. I'd need to check, but I'd be surprised if Yukari has either. It would have been a test even for Kuromorimine to have to do such a thing. Though not too much, as Kuromorimine would've simply swapped in reserves for the second match, and the major schools were exempted from the qualifiers in any case.
"Which means we're going to need to be storing ammunition, spare parts, and fuel for two matches on the tanks and the trailers they tow onto the ferry. That's a lot of work to do tomorrow morning, Miho."
"I know, Koume, but I really don't see any better alternative." Miho finished her side of the StuG's tracks, stood up straight, and rubbed her forehead.
"If you want, we could get started on loading a couple of the trailers for you guys tonight," Nakajima offered from her perch on the StuG's engine deck, while the other auto girls continued working.
"We couldn't ask you guys to do that," Miho said.
"You're not. We're offering. Besides, we'll be able to make up for it by catching extra sleep the next couple days while you guys are ashore."
"Well… if you're sure…"
"We are." Suzuki looked up from the StuG's engine and gave a thumbs up, and the auto club girls replaced the cover and jumped down. "On to the next."
The inspections of the Type 89 and 38t went quickly as well, with no defects found on any of them, and Miho and Koume said their goodbyes to the auto club and left. By this point, the sun was only a distant orange glow against the dark horizon.
"So, Miho, we'll meet back here at 430 am?"
"Yeah. Just like we told everyone. They'll all need to be up at 4 to make it here for that, probably." Miho shook her head. "I don't know how Mako is going to survive."
"Honestly, I'm surprised she's been making it to normal morning practice as it is."
"Saori's been making a detour to her place and making sure she wakes up every morning. It's been really kind of her." Miho frowned. "But this might be too much for her to overcome."
"If you want, I can go with Saori tomorrow to make sure Mako wakes up," Koume offered.
"If you want to, Koume, that would be great."
"I think it's a matter of need to, Miho, more than want to. Just please try to avoid the lampposts without me there?"
"Well, I can try."
They both laughed. We don't do that nearly enough these days.
Did we ever, really?
Koume shuddered as the combination of coffee and energy drink went down her throat. How does Kiyoshi drink this stuff?
"Does it taste really bad?" Saori asked, her face somewhat concerned, no doubt from the expression on Koume's own.
"Oh yeah. I normally actually kind of like coffee, but the energy drink part of it is just… ugh." Koume could feel it working though. It was almost like the drink was physically shaking her into full wakefulness.
The two of them had met up where they'd agreed they would via text message the previous night (though it was still very dark out), at a street corner not too far from Mako's house. Unlike the rest of Miho's tank crew and Koume herself, Mako did not live in an apartment complex catering to students (or with family). Instead, apparently, she subleased the ground floor of a house in one of the areas generally inhabited by the adult, non-student population of the ship.
"Couldn't you have just made yourself a cup of coffee then?"
"I, ah, don't actually have a coffee maker in my apartment. Always been one of those things I'd like to get but it's not something I'd use enough to ask my parents for." Koume had made a quick stop at a convenience store on her way to meet Saori and grabbed two of the foul-tasting things; one for herself, and one for Mako, who would no doubt desperately need it. "I'm actually wondering if Mako will even need to be woken up at all, Saori. This is close enough to her normal waking hours that she might just have not gone to bed in the first place."
"Koume, having known Mako for years, I can promise you we're not going to get that lucky. Whatever the worst decision will be for her to make regarding her sleep schedule at any given time, she's going to make it. It's so weird, with how smart she is at everything else." The two of them turned a corner, under the orange glow of street lights, and approached a row of houses. Saori indicated the second from the left. "This one."
"You have a key?" Obviously, Saori did if she'd been doing this every morning for the past couple of weeks, but maybe she'd forgotten it today. Never hurt to check.
"Right here."
They approached the back door of Mako's house. Koume didn't have Miho's hearing, but she could clearly hear noise coming from it. Her first thought was that Mako had stayed up all night after all. Then she listened closer. Oh, that's just sad.
The lock clicked, and Saori pushed the door open, to be greeted with a cacophony of shrieking alarms.
Saori sighed, though Koume had trouble hearing it over the noise. "Follow me." The redhead walked down a short hallway and pushed open the door that the noise was coming from.
Inside was Mako. Despite the fact that the traditional Japanese sleeping pad she was on was only a few centimeters off the ground, which in turn put the no fewer than five alarm clocks she'd set to max volume only a few centimeters away from her head, she was fast asleep. Actually, now that I see it, this goes beyond sad into impressive. Good thing Miho isn't here, this noise would mess her up if she wasn't expecting it.
"Koume, can you turn those off?"
"Gladly."
Saori turned to Mako. "Mako, time to wake up. It's time to go to the hangars. Koume and I are both here." What Saori thought that would do when five screaming alarms weren't enough, Koume couldn't say. Mako didn't stir.
Saori bent down and shook Mako. "Come on. Wake up."
Mako didn't stir.
Saori sighed again, and took hold of Mako's blanket. With a firm tug, she yanked it off… or at least mostly. Mako's legs clamped around it before it could be taken away completely, though her face remained buried in the pillow.
"Mako, get up!"
"Go away."
"No! You knew you'd have to get up now last night. Get up!"
"No."
"Do you want us to leave you behind when we go to shore?"
"I'll take the ferry later in the day. Like the afternoon evening one."
"There is no ferry to shore in the afternoon!" Saori attempted to tug the blanket away again. "Get up!"
Koume looked at her phone. "Mako, we need to go to the hangars and load the trailers with supplies. Miho, Hana, and Yukari are going to have to load the supplies for your tank by themselves if you don't get a move on." Miho will almost certainly end up driving the Panzer 4 to the elevators too if Mako's this addled.
"That sucks."
"Saori, where's the kitchen here?"
"Room we came in from, door to the left." Saori returned her attention to Mako's prone form. "MAKO! GET UP!"
Koume retraced their steps and found the correct door. Mako's kitchen oddly reminded her of Miho's in many ways, only with cat-themed stuff in place of stuffed Boko bears everywhere. There was also a large leather-bound book on the table, with a place marked with some sort of wooden object poking out from between the pages, though Koume didn't pause to look at the cover. She went to the cabinets and opened them until she found the one with the cups. Koume grabbed the largest one she saw, went to the refrigerator, and filled it to the brim with ice and water. Then she returned to Mako's room.
The situation was much the same. Mako still hadn't gotten up, though by now Saori had managed to completely take the blanket away.
"Okay, Mako. I'm sorry to have to do this, I really am, but we don't have time to waste. If you haven't gotten up in the next five seconds, I am going to dump this cup of ice water on your head."
"Go 'way."
"Not the answer we're looking for, Mako."
"Nnnnggghhhhhhh…"
*BLOOSH*
"AAACCKKKK!"
The food was, indeed, very good.
Even if Koume wasn't a sweet potato fan. I've never liked the taste, but on top of that now they remind me of Kadotani. Which is one of the more unappetizing things to be reminded of. She carefully avoided all of the orange chunks in her bowl of stew.
The process of loading the tanks and supplies on board the ferry that morning had gone about as smoothly as could've been hoped; at Kuromorimine, that had been yet another thing that was always handled by adult support staff, but they'd figured it out with the help of the ferry crew. The vast majority of the team had slept through the ferry ride to shore, including Miho. Koume hadn't, though she wondered if that was the wisest choice.
Regardless, when the ferry had reached shore and Ooarai's students had disembarked (their tanks would be kept in the port terminal until the next day), the Senshado team had found representatives from the city council waiting. Under the envious gazes of the normal students who'd also come, the team was informed that the city council had reserved rooms for them in one of Ooarai's hotels. They were then led to the building (a very nice one), shown their rooms where they would be spending the next two nights (two girls a room; naturally Koume shared hers with Miho), and then bid farewell by the representatives, who left to return to City Hall, the Student Council following them.
With them gone, Koume and Miho had gathered the team and announced that everyone was free to wander around the town for the day (once they'd made sure that Miho and Koume had the phone numbers of at least one person in their group). After all, that was the reason they were here the day before the match.
Hippo Team had gone to visit Ooarai's Bakumatsu/Meiji museum, prompted by Oryou; from the excitement on her face and the resignation on the other three's, Koume guessed that that was a regular occurrence whenever they visited shore. Rabbit Team had made noises about going to the town's aquarium. Duck Team had tagged along with Koume, Miho, and Miho's crew when they'd left the hotel and wandered town for a bit, checking out the street stalls and activities of the Anglerfish Festival (which was after all the reason they would be having the match here), but they'd eventually split up when Miho had decided it was time for lunch.
So now here Koume and the Command Crew were, at one in the afternoon, eating lunch at an outdoor café. It was quite warm (a sign of an early spring), there was only the occasional cloud in the sky, and there was a gentle breeze. Koume felt as good as she had in a long time, sitting there eating her monkfish stew with her friends chatting around her. People I would never have met if it weren't for Senshado. See, Kiyoshi?
As ever, the fact remained that Saori, Hana, Mako, and Yukari weren't her crew, but Miho's. But that was a matter for tomorrow. They were still friends. And they had the rest of the afternoon to hang out.
"Where do we go next?" Yukari asked the group.
"I vote the outlet mall," Saori said immediately. "They've got to have some stuff that doesn't make it out to the schoolship. I really need some new shoes."
"You collect shoes too, Saori?" Yukari asked eagerly. "Me too! I've got a closet at home full of them! I've got Prussian jackboots, and American airborne jump boots, and British-,"
"Yukari, what are you talking about? I said SHOES. Not boots, shoes. Cute shoes."
"But… boots are cute."
"I vote we go back to the hotel," Mako mumbled. Her plate of flounder and rice was only half eaten, though she had drained the milkshake she'd gotten to go with it.
"And do what? Sleep?" Saori demanded, her attention diverted from Yukari.
"Yes."
"You slept the entire ferry ride."
"That gives me four hours of sleep."
"And whose fault is that?"
"Yours. And Koume's."
"I warned you yesterday that you needed to go to bed earlier," Koume said absently, her gaze drifting over Ooarai's streets.
"If I may make a suggestion," Hana put in, "I would like to visit two places with the time that remains to us today. I would, first, like to visit the aquarium when we have finished eating." Hana's plate, despite having originally been loaded with twice as much food as anyone else's as per usual, was clean. "In addition to exhibitions of local marine life, they also maintain displays of local crafts that I would very much like to see. Oftentimes, they have wonderful examples of ikebana arrangements there."
"Oh, yeah, I'd almost forgotten about that," Saori said. "But we went there the last time we came ashore, Hana."
"As we went to the outlet mall as well, Saori-san. I would also like to make a visit to Isosaki Shrine if time permits."
Koume wasn't really paying attention anymore. Everything about the area was new to her, and wherever they ended up going (other than the outlet mall) would likely be an interesting experience.
For her, as much as she wanted to enjoy the present time with her friends, as much as she was enjoying it, there was also the all-too-familiar sensations that she'd always felt in the leadup to a match. She'd never been a Vice Captain in one before, but she'd competed many, many times. Since they'd first left the hotel and begun to walk around the town, part of her had been noting the environment that Ooarai town would provide for a battle. City fighting was not something that Kuromorimine had favored if avoidable, but it was likely that at least a part of the town would be included in the field of play on the next day. If this was a tournament match set up by the Federation, Miho had told her, they would've been given a map a day or two prior to the day of the battle. Indeed, they could likely expect to be sent a map for their qualifier against Maginot on Saturday. But this match, while recognized by the Federation, hadn't been organized by it, and so they wouldn't be getting a map until just before the battle began. Even so, Koume was willing to bet that the Ooarai City Council, flush with the novelty of having a match near their town, would go all the way and let it take place in the town.
They'll have quite a few people to evacuate if that's the case.
The streets of Ooarai were packed, far more than would likely normally be the case for this small town of only fifteen thousand people (it was the first time Koume had heard of a schoolship more than doubling the population of its home port, even though technically the ship represented the entire prefecture). Some of that was undoubtedly normal, given that the Anglerfish Festival would draw visitors from across the prefecture… but Koume could see a very large percentage of the crowd that quite obviously was not here to celebrate the local culture and cuisine of Ibaraki Prefecture.
"Koume, what about you?" Saori's voice jerked her back to her immediate surroundings. The other five girls (or four, actually, Mako was now asleep with her head down on the table) were looking at her.
"Huh?"
"Where do you want to go next?"
"Oh. Uh, wherever Miho wants."
"Koume, I hadn't given my opinion yet," Miho said.
"Really? Eh. Still holds."
Miho said nothing, but smiled, and bumped Koume's shoulder with her own.
"What were you looking at, Koume-dono?" Yukari asked.
"The crowds." Koume gestured. "It's a whole lot of people."
"Yes, I had noticed that as well," Hana said with a slight frown. "It is most unusual. Last year, and in preceding years when I visited the town for the festival, there were not nearly so many people. I cannot help but wonder what these newcomers are here for."
"Hana, you shouldn't need to wonder," Koume said. "They're here for the new thing this year. They're here for Senshado."
Saori suddenly looked very excited indeed. "They're here for us?! Look how many of them are boys! Oh, this is awesome!"
"More accurately, they're here for our opponents, Saori," Koume said. "See how many of them are wearing tshirts and hoodies and stuff with Saint Gloriana's logo on it, or other things like that?"
"I think that's probably why the Student Council wanted Saint Gloriana as our opponent," Miho said softly. She's probably right. They wanted fame. The fame of getting our butts kicked in front of the maximum number of people.
"The logo with the teapot and flowers represents our opponent?" Hana asked. "We must have seen thousands of people wearing apparel with it in the few hours we have been ashore today. Have so many people truly come to our town from outside the prefecture?"
"That's the popularity of Senshado in most of the country, Hana," Koume said. "Especially the popularity of the Power Five schools." She leaned forward. "When the big girls come to play, people notice."