Yo! Arashi here sorry for the late chapter but I prefer to update on my own terms, that and I have been very busy. So anyways I would like to thank those who reviewed, followed, and favorited this story, and while I don't have an ETA on chapter 3, I do hope you all enjoy this chapter.

Just a quick note this story is an AU, so be warned.

Shoutout to my beta reader emperorunknown123, go give his stories a read.

Disclaimer: I do not own Girls und Panzer, any OCs belong to me.

Beta note: I hope he appreciates this, I did this under duress. Also feel free to check out the only story I have, Angel Of Zero, a FOZ/40K cross. It will most likely never be updated due to health and work. However, I am working on another story. Slowly. Very slowly. Dunno, when It'll come out.

Taipei, Taiwan (Republic of China)

Unknown Time

Unknown Date

The fires lept high, casting long shadows about the ruined landscape. Screams from dozens of voices, languages intermingling in a twisting crescendo of pain, madness, and desperation that leached at the senses. A wave of pure sounds amidst the ever-present ques of weapons fire: the snaps and bangs of ruined metal, the cracks of breaking concrete, or the wet slaps of ruined flesh.

Lauren ducked behind cover, her arms wrapped tight around her weapon in a death-like grip, her fingers bone-white with tension against the black, cold metal. She could hear them, her fellow marines, they fought and died around her. The screams and moans were grating her already-tattered nerves, the cries for help and their loved ones stabbed into her gut and heart.

She wanted to do something, yet, she simply shut her eyes tighter than she had ever done before and huddled down. A prayer stuck to her lips, for salvation and help, but left it as a murmured, indistinct sob.

The noises died down, slowly, but without a doubt, it melted away until she could only hear her heartbeat like a beating drum in her head, till that too went away.

Silence fell.

Then Lauren felt a warm breeze, a gentle wind that caressed her teary cheeks and clean unlike the enduring, ever-present smell of propellant, and she found her eyes forced open to reveal only an empty sight. Where bodies once laid, only a bloodstain remained. She raised her head over cover with a slight hesitation, her eyes searching for where the marines once were, the ones that were fighting amidst the carnage, and only saw empty shadows and broken rubble.

She was alone now. All alone on a lonely road, her would-be killers were gone as soon as they arrived and all traces as well. With worry and great care, she left her cover and began to walk away, keeping to cover and pacing along the sides of the road. Her rifle held at her side, though it felt like a weight.

She half-expected to be shot, something she mentally prepared for, but nothing came still.

Her feet carried her, the only sounds she heard were her own. It was an alien thing to hear in a city that was supposed to be in total war: the absence of roaring jets; the incessant snaps of distant battles. Everything here beside her was quiet.

She did not know how long she walked, only that she did so until she heard a deep thud behind her. Training took over, she spun around, rifle raised at whatever was behind, finger at a hair-breadth from the small trigger. Yet, she dropped her weapon, eyes wide with confusion and barely-held shock. It made a clack and she made no move to pick it up.

"N-Neil? Is th-that you?" Lauren asked the short figure, her eyes trying to grab more details from it. He was familiar, entirely so. And she felt somewhat relieved when the man took a slow, lumbering step towards her from out of the shadows.

He was a pale man, balding and with a complexion that screamed trucker. He stood at a height about the same as her and was dressed in the same marine BDU. A small tag above his right breast labeled 'Madden'.

There were no mistakes about this now, this was her best friend.

And he was supposed to be dead, his body crushed like a beer can in a compactor, and, now he was before her in pristine condition.

"N-Neil? shit man, y-you're fine? How?" Lauren asked in shock.

Neil did not speak, a blank look the only response to her question. His eyes were as dead and plain as a corpse. And if Lauren had not seen him move, she would've thought he was one as well.

"Neil…?" Lauren asked once more, her voice wavering.

Silence answered back. The lifeless stare stayed and soon Neil's mouth opened into a small slit of a line, just barely held up. A sound left his lips, so dry and stale it was. So tired. So quiet. "Mi….ho."

"Miho? Neil, I'm Lauren, dammit, not Miho. Who the he—" Lauren stammered, but her words were cut off as Neil materialized before her. He was different now, more horrifyingly so. His clothes were bloody rags, stained a dark crimson. The neck had been bent to an unnatural angle, his frown now upside down to form a demented smile, with yellow bones jutting out like a pincushion. She was about to step back in surprise but a bloody hand grasped her neck, pulling her up and forward.

It was cold, icy cold, and Lauren could feel the pressure slowly grow as her breath left her. She fought against it, clawing against the unnatural strength holding her, but found it useless.

"How dare… you… live," Neil whispered, his voice was forced and heavy like a dying man. His eyes, lifeless and grey, seemed to narrow on her despite staring in opposite directions. He lifted Lauren higher with his twisted, malformed arm, "—a... normal life. Mih...o"

"Neil," Lauren breathed out, her head was spinning now and she felt her throat compress more, "—Y-you, you're hurt-t-ting me. L-let go." She did not know if she had even managed to speak, but with every word that left her mouth, her lungs burnt more and more like molten lava.

"Mi...ho" Neil wheezed again, every syllable announcing another squeeze of her throat.

"Ne— go" Burning tears streamed down her cheeks, she felt her arms going slack from weakness beside her, vision darkening to a cascade of red and black. Perhaps she deserved this, she thought. And she relaxed, resolving herself to whatever happened next.

"Mi...ho, Miho. Miho!"

Laurens last sight was of Neil, his blank stare was gone, now replaced with one of worry amidst concern then it dimmed fast. And her final thought before the black arrived was how… feminine and familiar the voice was.

August 6, 2001

Kumamoto City, Kumamoto Prefecture, Japan

Nishizumi Mansion

01:35

With a heavy gasp, Miho jumped up and collided with something. Her mind still clouded by a fog of adrenaline and confusion, she struggled against the thing, she grabbed and pulled until it held her forcefully down.

"M-Miho calm down it's me, Maho!" a slightly frightened and worried voice spoke.

Like a sun peaking the horizon, Miho regained her senses. Her eyes focused as she realized she was on top of a slightly older girl in black pajamas. It took another few moments as her mind stuttered to recognize the pajama-wearing figure and the face wrought with surprise. It was Maho Nishizumi, her sister. A sister whom she just tackled. 'Shit!' she thought, hastily crawling off her and helping her up. "I'm sorry, Maho. Did I hurt you?!"

Miho helped her up and Maho simply gave a somewhat nervous chuckle, "No, you didn't hurt me." She wrapped her little sister in an encompassing hug.

'I think a lung popped,' Miho thought. Squirming at the tight squeeze, she begrudgingly accepted the display of emotion, if somewhat tentatively. It took some time to get used to, this kindness. She could barely remember the last time something like this happened to her: her beloved grandmother taking care of her when she was alive, the hugs and smiles she always had. She allowed the hug to last a bit longer before breaking it. "I'm still going to insist on the apology," she added with a semi-serious tone.

From Maho's reaction, it was anything but serious to her as she gave a tiny giggle to her display of maturity. "Fine, fine, I forgive you," she said with amusement, "I was worried for a moment, you kept making such a racket. It's still five in the morning; we have several hours till your pre-school starts. Get some more rest, I'll wake you later." She patted down Miho and carried her to bed, tucking her in despite her protest— and surprise.

For a few moments, Miho wondered if she should say anything as Maho neared the door. A few words said as anyone would say at such a moment. Perhaps even a 'thank you', or… maybe an 'I love you'? No words left her mouth as she neared the door.

Nothing was said when she stood at the door for a moment.

Nothing was said when she shrugged and closed the door.

Miho shifted uncomfortably out of the blanket burrito, her mind lost in thoughts. She gazed at the ceiling of her room, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars that decorated it like a false night sky.

This life. Her life. Or was it Miho's life? She couldn't help but ponder on this unceasing musing that clung to the back of her mind like an idle whisper. The more she obsessed, the more similarities popped up, if one could call them as such. One noticeable thing was their birthdate, October 23rd. Only a single day off from her original one, back in the old universe. There were other things, sure, small snippets here and there but they weren't concrete enough to be certain.

Then again, perhaps it was her presence taking over the main character; pretty much throwing the original timeline out of the window, if she was even in the original timeline. It had been years since she saw the show and let alone memorizing every minute detail in it. And she had never touched the manga, sadly. They cost money and orphans don't have money. Not for lack of trying or effort.

Needless to say, she was stumped and she was awkward.

Which thankfully did not seem out of place due to her age. Even more strangely was the fact that she was having a relatively normal childhood —although she was still an infant— and with all things considered... her mother, Shiho, surprisingly, allowed her to stay that way despite speaking in full sentences. It didn't help her case when nearly everyone she met claimed she was a prodigy.

She cursed her cousin for boasting about knowing how to read. Damn his nine-year-old ass to hell for tricking her into reading out loud, the kid could barely read and she had to get involved. She was four. You don't expect a child to read out a damned Panzerkampfwagen VI Ausf E 'Tiger' field repair manual. How did he even get it in the first place?

And it didn't help that her mother was behind the damn door the whole time.

That look she gave… It haunted her, that cold face. It was the patented Shiho ice-cold gaze. Miho that day could've sworn that deep, deep beneath that look, a ghost of a smirk revealed itself.

A quick shudder passed her, her head shook before she fell back on that dream, that memory-turned-nightmare. It had been following her for a while, popping up more and more frequently as time passed here. First, every odd month and so, then every week, now every couple of days. What did it mean?

She didn't have the strength to find out.

A quick thought passed her mind. Perhaps it was PTSD, Miho thought. But… she couldn't actually tell. She was a CE, a combat engineer, not a doctor. They got to stay at base, with hot meals and warm beds and large pay. She got field rations and rashes.

Two entirely different worlds.

But why would it suddenly pop up now. Maybe it was the thrill and surprise of being reborn, or maybe that guy had something to do with it. Or it could be because of her fusion/takeover of Miho?

She just didn't know.

And now she was beginning to face the repercussions of it.

Maybe it wasn't PTSD. It could be survivor's guilt, she'd known some people with it before when the war started going bad. They… weren't the same as they were afterward. More… hollow and lost, like living ghosts.

Losing things close to you will do that, she reasoned. She survived. Her friends and comrades didn't. People she ate with, worked with, lived, and partied with. The best times of her life, hell, the only best time in her life. You don't forget things like that, you don't forget the one great dysfunctional pseudo-family as someone would to a piece of trash.

A streak of warmth coursed down her cheeks as their faces came up. Her sleep-weary eyes hot. She didn't know when she curled into the blanket, hugging it for comfort, letting the tears soak into the cartoon fabric like a tissue. Her small arms squeezing around a small Boco teddy. She wiped away all her musings and haunting thoughts. Away with her attempts at forgetting the past for the new.

Tonight. She will allow herself, her old self, Lauren Mendoza, to return. And together, they will grieve as they both never truly had the chance to.

August 6, 2001

Kumamoto City, Kumamoto Prefecture, Japan

Nishizumi Mansion

05:30

Miho awoke to the gentle prodding of her sister from a dreamless sleep. She walked like a tired zombie as Maho guided her towards the baths. She was sure that Maho had said something, but, her weary mind was unable to hear it and only a groan left her lips in response.

Japanese-style baths. The big, fancy ones.

That was something that took some getting used to, especially when showering with others. And especially when showering with her sister and mother. Sometimes she missed having a private shower. This made her feel as if she was back in the barracks at camp, only in almost luxury accommodations and without having to worry about perverts. Or Shane.

… Oh, she missed Shane. The way he squealed when beaten was like music. And now she felt sad.

Shane was gone. Like the others.

Speaking of her mother, Shiho Nishizumi seemed to be just as cold as in the anime. The woman did not smile, her face like a sculpture, only the slightest of smirks and flashes of approval would crack the exterior they ever did anything she approved of. Those instances were rare, rarer than a unicorn in Miho's opinion.

And as far as she knew, there was only ever one occasion when she legitimately smiled, and not the veneer rarely shown, was when canon Miho and Maho made up in the finals. But this Shiho acted about relatively the same from the anime but something felt...off. She couldn't pinpoint it, the feeling fluttering in-and-out of her perception and mind. Perhaps she was putting too much thought into it.

Miho soon found herself stopping in front of the entrance to the bathroom and, with Maho's urging, they entered the room quickly. It was a large room, too large for the three of them, with an oversized tub on the far side and a wide-open space in the center. The air was heated, a mist fogging the room. However, she knew what to expect besides the clean tiles and steamy, humid air: Shiho with a wrapped towel around her, sitting on a stool and looking like a graceful doll hidden within a cloud of white.

It looked just plain ominous.

"Good morning mother." Miho and Maho bowed slightly.

Shiho gave a seconds-long stare that could've pierced a steel sheet.

"Good morning as well. Now come, undress and let us bathe, we have much to speak about,"

They both nodded as they silently complied. Miho wished that this would be over with soon, her inner irritation gnawing at having someone wash her. It made her feel helpless. But she knew better than to voice it, the last time she tried to do so didn't end up well.

She just gritted her teeth and followed orders, and thought of other things.

After a few moments of scrubbing and silence, Shiho spoke up, "Miho."

"Yes, mother?" she replied, a bit startled.

"I have pulled you out of your current school."

Miho sat still, her mind jumbled from the sudden change. She had barely even gone to the place and now, all of a sudden, she was sent out? Was it something she did recently? This didn't seem right.

Maho sat up from the oversized bathtub behind both of them and stared at her and her mother with wide eyes. Her face had a similar look to Miho, one of shock and sudden surprise. If it was any more exaggerated it would've been a comical look but…

Now, it was like a flashbang had gone off in front of them.

"M-may I ask why?" Miho stammered.

"With your intelligence, you are beyond your peers, and staying behind will only hold you back. A Nishizumi must always advance. This being said, I have enrolled you at Kuromorimine's elementary division and from there you will continue until you finish high school." Shiho wrung the sponge in her hand, the splashing liquid sounding loud in Miho's ear like the beating of a drum, " I have high expectations for you."

Miho simply closed her eyes. She breathed in deep the steam, letting it sit in her lungs, and then exhaled. Then, she nodded. The cause was plain as day now. And she shouldn't have been as surprised.

Damn that cousin of hers, it was a paragraph. A fucking paragraph, albiet with highly technical phrasing and terms. And why? Why would her moth-Shiho suddenly transfer her out because of that?

She resolved to do one thing after this. She was going to play football with him, no-holds-barred… and no mercy.

But, luckily, it seemed that Maho had other opinions.

"But-t Mother, as your heir and eldest, I believe Miho should be free to ch-" Maho stopped, her mouth shut as Shino halted the abrupt outburst with but a simple look. And the look was all that was needed to cement her decision.

"I have made up my mind. Don't test me on this Maho; I will not squander your sister's potential because you think you are heir by age. As far as I'm concerned you have a contender." Shiho announced calmly. She picked up a towel and began to wipe down a soapy Miho, who shook in place— not from the cold, but a deeper reason.

'Wait, what? Shit, I don't want to be the heir!' Miho panicked internally. She tried her best to keep a stoic face, unknowing if it was working, but the look on Maho's face was breaking her down. She had to say something, anything, she really didn't want to get involved in this.

She was a kid, dammit. Kids don't deal with this shit.

She made to stand, however, something tugged at her. Her guts churned in place. The tension in the air was thick. And her knees were locked tighter than a vault door. Helplessness washed over her as she could only witness what came next.

With a quick wipe of her face, Maho stood up, "P-please excuse me, M-Miho. Mot-mother" In almost a complete blur, she grabbed a towel and left the room, leaving a nervous, panicking Miho with her mother.

'What have I done?' Miho found herself horrified and dismayed. Had she fucked up the timeline that bad? Was this supposed to have played out this way? Maybe, and just maybe, she should have played the simple, idiotic child and let canon take its course.

But she didn't. She just couldn't. To just be stupid and nod, and smile, to any and everything. Canon Miho might've, should've, done that. She wasn't Miho, or was she?

Feeling a hand on her shoulder, she looked over and saw her mother with the familiar cold smile. She gave a gentle rub as if to reassure her. It didn't.

"Don't worry about Maho, she will get over it." Shiho stated, picking up the sponge and wiping her daughter's back with an almost motherly touch. Miho could feel it as she worked her way down, the warmth of the water having been seeped out of her mind and replaced with icy despair. "She is too emotional; despite how hard she hides behind that stoic mask of hers, it is easy to see. However, you, my beautiful daughter will be our family's ultimate weapon: our little panzer, My little tiger."

And suddenly, for the first time since she arrived, Shiho hugged her. A simple, loving hug that leaked affection.

And despite knowing this was wrong, she didn't break the show of affection. Morally, she felt that she should've. It was a betrayal, what just happened. Surely unintentional, but still, it was still one.

But, realistically, she just could not. Even though Maho was always there for her whenever she was not busy. Even though she was the one giving her affection and care in a cold house. She didn't break the hug because the one thing she was denied as Lauren Mendoza growing up was just given to her by the one person she didn't expect it from.

So once again Miho or Lauren melted into the warmest show of affection from the coldest person she knows.

Yet, she still felt pain deep down.

September 11, 2001

Outside the Hudson Estuary, New York City, New York, United States of America

Kuromorimine Girls Academy School Ship Graf Zeppelin

08:44

It's been over a month since her mother advanced her from preschool to elementary school, or to be more specific 1st grade. It had not been easy adjusting to the sudden change, especially when her peers were a year older than her. Thankfully none would mess with her. She is a Nishizumi after all, and to the few who tried thinking she would be an easy target... well, she fought dirty.

Very dirty. Overcome and adapt, she was taught, which equalled... Marine Corps levels of dirty.

As for classes, she surprisingly excelled in them, not that it was something to be proud of. Lauren wasn't book smart nor was she a genius, she was plain and really didn't stand out. However, you don't need to be an intellect to know the basics of ABC and numbers at a first grade level. And, it doesn't really help that they made English and German mandatory classes, fluent in the former and somewhat knowledgeable in the latter in her previous life.

Thankfully, people just chalk it up to the Nishizumis genetics for that quirk: being slightly smarter, able and stronger than most, and her family's innate sense of awareness.

Aside from her academic excellence—despite her attempts to at least fumble some of it—, she has had no friends. Not much of a surprise to be fair. Most of the students from her division tended to avoid her, especially after her little stunt with the bullies, not that she cared. Especially after the thing with the bullies.

No matter when and where, she will always keep the moment of pride after curb-stomping three idiots with a pail, gravity, and a whole lotta whoop-ass.

Then she realized that she had beaten up a bunch of kids…. Nah, they were still assholes.

Anyways, solitude was much more preferable and, if not possible, a smaller circle of friends. Which she had none of… but still, she was able.

And then there was her sister Maho.

Maho… that was a sticking point for Miho/Lauren.

Ever since that little incident in the bathroom she had avoided her like the plague: only talking to her when needed and always with that damned stoic face of hers. Never changing and more rigid than porcelain.

Now while Lauren wasn't hotheaded by any means. She always hated it when people gave her attitude, especially when unwarranted. It wasn't her fault that Shiho preferred her more 'talented' daughter. It wasn't her fault that she had years of experience from a past life, a literal jump-start.

It. Was. Not. Her. Fault.

While it may seem childish, she wasn't going to take that attitude and returned her in kind. And as expected even here in Kuromorimine Maho treated her the same. And because of this somewhat petty feud, rumours have begun spreading that there was a civil war within her clan.

Like that will happen, Miho thought.

Shaking her head, relaxing into her seat, she looked out at the vast, glorious sight before her, New York City.

With a nostalgic smile and a sense of pride, she saw the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building, and the Twin Towers in the distance. Something you got to appreciate when you're on the mother-of-all carriers, height is no issue. Reality and common sense be damned.

But, it made for a sight she would never forget.

Kuromorimine was here in the US for an exhibition match with the USPF (United States Panzerfahren Federation) high school champions as the JPF (Japanese Panzerfahren Federation) had apparently requested for the match. Miho had a vague suspicion that her mother's hands were in this: only she had the power to pressure the federation for this match to happen. Most other international federations tended not to work and even actively refused to associate with each other outside the World Panzer Championships.

A sigh of exasperation left her lips as she knew Shiho would want her to witness their school team dominate the American team. Possibly to serve as inspiration for her 'genius' or a lesson in practical experience. She just didn't know or cared much to begin with if it were.

Instead, she now decided to simply focus on the World Trade Center: its blocky infrastructure and size that dwarfed the New York city-scape. She had only seen images of it… and some of the footage of its…

Needless to say, Miho took relish in the opportunity to see what it once looked like in person.

She knew exactly what day it was but she wasn't entirely worried. After all, Girls und Panzer is a peaceful world. The last major war was the Vietnam War decades ago and the Gulf War was absent for reasons unknown; the United States on the surface didn't seem to be that involved in the Middle East and the Islamic countries in general, unlike her world's version. Research on this Earth's history was still needed, but nonetheless, Al Qaeda should have no reason to attack, if they even existed. The amount of information she could get access to was… scant, especially when one took into consideration her age.

It was a miracle she got all she could from old magazines and newspaper scraps for 'arts' and 'crafts'.

So she relaxed. The bench had proven to be the best view, placed near the bow of the ship. Although she wasn't alone as many others, mainly high school students, joined her as well, taking pictures and idle-talk. She mainly cajoled and pushed her way to the best spot.

Closing her eyes as she leaned into the wooden bench. Miho let the salty sea breeze kiss her cheeks and ruffle her hair. The bask of the mid-day sun shown on her and the sounds of gulls and teens echoed in her ears. It was such a perfect day.

Then a scream ruined that moment.

Miho's mind screamed at her to not open her eyes. Perhaps someone fell over or maybe a small, harmless prank or scare. Though instead of it stopping, it grew. It grew and grew with more and more voices adding to it like an amalgamation of terror. Her stomach dropped like a rock.

Only one thing could trigger this. One fucking thing. She did not want that thing to be true. It couldn't be true, not here, not in Girls und Panzer.

Not. Here.

She prayed it was a prank as she raised a single eyelid. And then she stopped. Her mind ceased. Her breath became broken. Cold sweats ran like an open tap.

Miho cried like a banshee. She continued as an older student clutched her, hoisting her like a sack of potatoes in the ensuing mob, and moving towards the emergency shelters. She continued as they went out of sight, deep into the tunnels and halls of the under-belly, until her voice cracked, her lungs dried like a barren sea. But, the tears continued, nonetheless.

A burning tower seared into her mind like a brand. The black smoke rising like a plume of night and horror.

It was a sight she would never forget.