Akaboshi Kiyoshi hated math.
He was well aware that he was not alone in this—not in general among the high school students of the world, and not in his own family. If he had a yen for every time he'd heard his twin sister complain about math over the years, he'd have a whole hell of a lot of yen. But Koume, no matter how much she doesn't like it, can still ultimately do it. I, on the other hand…
He stared at the study guide, running his left hand through his hair and irritatedly flicking aside the cowlick that had fallen into his eyes again. Stupid thing. He'd had it cut so many times before, only to have it grow back in literal days. Koume had one just like it, and their mother had happily announced how "adorable and precious" it made them look. Which was all very well for Koume, but for Kiyoshi that turn of phrase had been humiliating. Dad sniggering as he'd agreed with Mom hadn't helped.
Kiyoshi snorted. Listen to me. Thinking about my hair. Anything to distract myself for half a second, right? The practice precalculus problems on the guide were obstinately refusing to cooperate, just as they had all through the previous weeks and just as they undoubtedly would on Monday. On the test that he was in his dorm room studying for on this bright sunny early afternoon instead of doing something fun, and was undoubtedly going to catastrophically fail despite his best efforts.
"Factor the following quadratics: -2x squared + 7x + 15. X squared + 10x – 21. 4x squared + 11x -3…" He'd been taught this in class, but only dimly remembered what the teacher had said. He'd taken notes, he had his notebook just over there on the corner of his desk, but at this point the meaning of what he'd written wasn't penetrating his aching brain. What is the point of this? When am I going to use this in life? I am absolutely sure that none of the jobs I'm interested in will ever make me do this, so why do I need to do this to graduate? What is the point? He almost threw the study guide across the dorm room, but settled for throwing his pencil instead. Great, now I've got to go pick it up.
"Kiyoshi? You in here, bro?" The door opened, and his friend and roommate Seigo walked in.
Every prefecture in Japan operated at least one schoolship. Typically, larger and richer prefectures would operate two, one each for the boys and girls of the area. Oftentimes those schoolships would also include the middle schools for the area. Smaller and/or poorer areas made do with one ship for both sexes, and kept their middle schools on land. Although Kagoshima Prefecture wasn't exactly poor, it still fell into the latter category. One ship, two schools, both called Tategoto High. Boy's campus at the stern of the ship, girls at the bow. The entire top deck taken up with urban area, none of the parkland that most schoolships boasted. His twin had had a private dorm room at Kuromorimine and a whole apartment at her new school, but every student on this ship shared. There wasn't enough space to do anything else.
It could be worse: he and Seigo weren't anywhere near as close as Koume and Nishizumi Miho were, but they had still been hanging out for two or three years now. They had most of their classes together, spent most of their free time together, and knew each other fairly well.
"Right here, man," Kiyoshi said, not looking up.
"Dude, what are you doing here? We were going to go play tennis with Mitsuo and Chuichi!"
"I decided to be responsible." Kiyoshi waved the study guide over his shoulder.
"Responsible? You? You didn't even send me a text to tell me you'd lost your mind?" Kiyoshi felt the paper jerked out of his hand. "What is this? Is this math? It looks like math. Why the hell are you in here doing math?"
Kiyoshi finally turned sideways in his chair to look at his friend. "….it's precalculus, man. You know, the class we have a test in on Monday?"
Seigo stared at him. "You're studying for a test?"
"Yes. May I please have that back?"
"Okay, Mr. Formal." Seigo handed it to Kiyoshi, then looked around the room before sitting on his own bed. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are you studying for a test for the first time ever?"
"Like I said, I decided to be responsible. Blame my parents." And Koume too, indirectly.
"Dude, what's the point? I mean, no offense, but-,"
"But I'm probably going to fail no matter what I do. Yep. At least this way I can say I tried. Maybe that will at least get Mom and Dad to calm down a little." Yeah, no, but hope springs eternal. Kiyoshi got up and walked the few steps to where his pencil had rolled under Seigo's bed. "Excuse me." He got on his hands and knees and reached under the bed for it, feeling his shirt sliding down his back as he did so.
"Now what are you doing?"
"Getting my pencil. Stop staring at my ass, I don't like you like that."
"Fuck you."
"Did you not hear what I just said? Not interested." Kiyoshi retrieved his pencil and stood up. "But you're right, I should probably take a break from this."
"Alright, good, get your shorts on and let's go, Mitsuo and Chuichi are going to already be at the tennis court by now-,"
"Not that much of a break." Kiyoshi reached for his phone and began texting the other two guys his apology.
"Dude, seriously?"
"Seriously."
Seigo snorted in disgust. "Okay. Fine. You don't want to go play sports but you want to take a break. Can we talk about sports instead?"
"Sure," Kiyoshi said, regretting it almost immediately. He was fairly sure he knew what Seigo was going to say next, and sure enough…
"You know the qualifiers for the National Tournament are next week?"
Seigo was a huge Senshado fan. Subscription to Gekkan Senshado Weekly, membership on various online fan forums (free and paid, casual chat and serious recruiting analysis), attendance at at least one match per year (be it college, pro, or high school level), and so on. He had a sizable collection of memorabilia at his house on shore, if he was to be believed (Kiyoshi had deliberately refused all invitations to visit just so he didn't have to see the stuff for himself).
Seigo's fandom was a mild annoyance in and of itself. What was much worse, the single biggest thing about the other guy that drove Kiyoshi up the wall, was that Seigo couldn't understand why anyone else would not love the stupid sport too, would try to convert any "unbelievers", and would not take "no" for an answer.
Even when Kiyoshi had explained as clearly as he could, not long after they'd started hanging out, exactly why he hated Senshado and didn't want to think about it, it hadn't sunk in. All Seigo had gotten out of his explanation was "Holy shit dude, your sister is on Kuromorimine's team!", and proceeded to redouble his efforts to "teach" Kiyoshi about Senshado. As if Kiyoshi wasn't already intimately familiar with everything about tankery.
At least Seigo was a Saunders fan. If he'd actively cheered for KMM, Kiyoshi didn't think he'd be able to stomach his presence.
"I don't want to talk about Senshado, Seigo."
"Too bad, then you should've gone to tennis with the rest of us. You hear what I said about the qualifiers?"
"Unfortunately yes. Why do you even care about them, Seigo? Saunders isn't playing, none of the big schools have to do those."
"It's still Senshado to watch." Seigo stretched and grinned. "You gonna watch 'em with me?"
"What do you think the answer is to that?"
"Hey man, I know they're pay per view, but you don't have to worry about the money, I'm going to cover it-,"
"I don't give a shit about the money." Kiyoshi paused, then sighed. "And I was going to watch one of them anyways."
Seigo blinked, then grinned wider. "Ah, there you go, I knew you'd start coming around eventually! Dude, it'll be awesome, they're staggered so we'll be able to catch at least one every day after school-,"
"I said I'm watching one. One only. Maginot versus Ooarai, on Monday. I don't care what time it is, if I have to cut class to watch it I will." Even if I miss the damn precalculus test and all this studying ends up being pointless. I mean, I hope it doesn't come to that.
Seigo whistled. "Damn, man. This from the guy that hates Senshado? I mean, I'm glad you're getting into it finally, but… why that one? Maginot's new commander is supposed to be pretty thicc," Kiyoshi gritted his teeth, "but their usual strategy is boring as hell and their tanks are lame. Why do you want to watch them all of a sudden?"
"Because, despite what you seem to think, I've always watched all of my sister's matches regardless of what I think about tankery. Actually, I'm pretty sure I've told you that in the past."
"All of your sister's… wait. Wait, WHAT?!" Seigo's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "I thought Koume quit playing! You're telling me she went to Maginot of all places?! She's on THAT team?! Why didn't you tell me earlier!"
"No, I'm telling you that she went to the other school in that matchup. Ooarai. They have a brand new team. She's their Vice-Captain, Miho's the Captain." Kiyoshi ignored the second part of the question for now.
If the revelation that Koume was still playing had dropped Seigo's jaw, this one nearly knocked him over.
"DUDE! Your sister and a Nishizumi left Kuromorimine to go start their own team?! That's… that's crazy, how is this not bigger news across the circuits, how have I not heard about this-,"
"They didn't leave to start their own team, they left to quit the sport and then got roped into it by the powers-that-be at their new school. I don't know how it's not bigger news yet or how you haven't heard about it yet, nor do I particularly care. MY big question is, why are you so excited to hear about this?"
Seigo said nothing, and his face flushed slightly. Kiyoshi groaned inwardly.
When they'd first started hanging out a few years ago, the only thing that had impressed Seigo more than that Kiyoshi's sister played for Kuromorimine was that Kiyoshi's sister was personally acquainted with a real live Nishizumi. Kiyoshi couldn't necessarily even blame him for that, he'd been genuinely surprised himself when Koume had first told the family about her new friend, but Senshado nut Seigo of course took it to the next level. The only thing that had amused Kiyoshi more than the time he'd caught Seigo telling other guys that he knew someone who knew someone that knew a Nishizumi was the time Seigo had asked Kiyoshi if he could somehow arrange an introduction with Nishizumi Miho. Or at least her autograph. Kiyoshi himself had met Miho precisely once, on the only Family Day at Kuromorimine that his own life had permitted him to make it to. He didn't exactly have her number on speed dial, and wouldn't bother her for something like this if he did. Naturally, Seigo being who he was, he hadn't been so easily dissuaded, and for the next few months Kiyoshi had barely been able to hear himself think for hearing the word "Nishizumi" on near constant repeat.
It had been quite something, to see all that from a self-proclaimed Saunders fan.
Yet, as time went on, Seigo pestered him about Miho less and less, and eventually stopped altogether, which had been good to see.
But about the time Seigo had finally stopped asking for Miho's autograph, he'd started showing up at Kiyoshi's house almost every day after school to hang out. Kiyoshi had been fine with that, but Seigo had acted odd the whole time, as if he'd been expecting to meet someone that wasn't there. Kiyoshi had dismissed it at the time-who could Seigo have been hoping to see? Kiyoshi had never given any hint that Nishizumi Miho might be there. Why would anyone expect her to be? Kuromorimine didn't let its students off the schoolship except on a handful of occasions, and that vast school certainly didn't coordinate its schedule with the land-bound middle school of an entirely different prefecture anyways.
It was the subtlety that had thrown Kiyoshi off at first. Seigo was never subtle about anything, and he certainly hadn't been when he was constantly bugging Kiyoshi to get in an "in" with an actual Nishizumi. So Kiyoshi had understandably missed a lot of the signs. It wasn't until Kiyoshi had caught Seigo studying up on Panther tanks right after mentioning that Koume had moved to one from a Panzer 38t that he'd begun to get suspicious.
By the time of the National Championship last year, when Koume had had her accident and Seigo had nearly shorted his phone out with terrified texts (that Kiyoshi hadn't looked at until much later, given that he'd spent the immediate postmatch beating down the door to the infirmary alongside Mom and Dad), he'd known for sure.
"Dude, give it up. It's not going to happen."
"What are you talking about, Kiyoshi?" The nonchalant tone that Seigo tried to put on was distinctly undercut by the rosy hue of his face.
"The fact that you've been crushing on my twin sister for the last two years and somehow thought I wouldn't notice." Seigo made a spluttering noise. "Don't 'whwhwhurgh' me, you know exactly what I'm talking about, don't bother denying it. Don't insult me."
Seigo fell completely silent, his face now glowing crimson.
"Seigo, take my advice. Forget about it. Do what every other male Saunders fan—no, scratch that, every male in the country between the ages of eight and eighty—does and fantasize about Kay instead. You've frankly got a better shot at her."
"Kiyoshi… I don't get it. Why are you saying that I've got no shot? I mean… man, you're her brother, couldn't you, like-,"
"What, put in a good word for you? Nope. No. Not gonna do it."
Seigo looked betrayed. "Dude. Bro code."
"Bro Code does not apply to wing-manning for a guy going after my own sister, as per Article U, Section R, Subsection AN-ID10T. Look it up. But more to the point, Seigo, I'm going to be straight honest with you." Kiyoshi sighed. This is not going to be pleasant. "Koume doesn't like you."
"She's never even met me!"
"Nope. But she's heard about you."
"… wait, what? Heard about me? From who? Kiyoshi, man, what have you-,"
Kiyoshi held up his hand, cutting off Seigo's tone of growing outrage.
"I haven't told her anything bad about you. In fact, on the occasions that I've mentioned you to her, all I've said is how much we hang out and do stuff together. That's part of the problem."
"What?"
"I'm going to be honest with you again." Getting to be a habit. First a few weeks back with Koume about Senshado, now with Seigo about Koume. "Seigo, no offense, real serious talk. You're… well, you're kind of an idiot."
"…bro."
"No, again, no offense. I'm not judging you. I'm one too, we're both fucking idiots. I'm her twin, so Koume has to put up with me. You, on the other hand…"
Seigo now looked completely confused. "Kiyoshi. Please. Just, just spell it out for me. Plain Japanese. Why am I an idiot? Why does Koume not like me? What have you been telling her?"
"I've told you a bunch of times already, but apparently I'm better at being subtle than you are." Kiyoshi paused a moment, then sighed. "My parents and I haven't told her anything that isn't the truth. She knows the basic facts about you. She just views the world differently from me."
"What does that mean?"
"Well, for starters, she knows you're a Senshado fan."
"What? Dude, she's a player at the highest level! She got a scholarship to Kuromorimine! She's been doing Senshado since she was seven! How could she not love it?"
"Koume started at nine, not seven. And she will happily talk your ears off for hours about the difference between 'liking the sport as a player and liking it as a fan'. She loves her teammates. She loves the sport, for some incomprehensible reason after all it's done to her. But she hates the fans. More particularly she hates male Senshado fans."
"Why?"
"You shouldn't need me to tell you that one." Kiyoshi looked pointedly at Seigo's laptop, a short distance away. "Aren't you a member in good standing of all those various online forums about the sport and such?"
"Yeah, but what does that have to do with…" Seigo's eyes widened. "Oh."
"Yeah. 'Oh.' Next time you log on, you might want to tell all the other forumites that the players have access to the Internet and they all know what a 'doujin' is. Actually, be sure and show me when you do, their reaction should be hilarious."
If Kiyoshi had thought Seigo's face was red before… "But I… that's not… I don't read or write or draw that stuff, I swear to all the gods."
"One, bullshit. Two, even if it's not, good luck convincing Koume of that if you were ever to meet her."
Kiyoshi continued. "There's a couple more things, but to really understand them, you need to understand Kuromorimine. Not the badass panzer battalion that you see in Senshado matches, not the pageantry they show you at major events, but the school itself and the stuff they sweep out of the public eye. Dude, I know I've told you some of this in the past, maybe you weren't listening or you deliberately forgot. That place is- I think the word is cutthroat, but it isn't strong enough. I never experienced it myself, but the things Koume would tell us… at Kuromorimine, it is 'every girl for herself'. Literally. By design. Academically, if you don't place in the top whatever percent of a class, it's institutional policy to make your life hell. Getting mocked by the teachers, cleaning the bathrooms in place of actual adult janitors, mandatory study sessions in the middle of the night, and by mandatory, I mean school staff banging down your door at one in the morning and dragging you out of bed if you don't come on your own. Perform to the standard they've set, or pay the price. It's somehow even worse on the Senshado team. It gets results, nobody can deny it, KMM girls are almost always the top scorers on university admissions exams and everyone knows about the Senshado team, but hardly anybody really understands how the school gets those results. Mom and Dad definitely didn't when they sent Koume there, not until it was too late.
Seigo, that place changed her. I don't think anybody could spend five years in that environment and not come out differently. If you ask her, she'll tell you she hated the place, and she actively tries to not do things like they would there. Koume's very proud of the fact that she doesn't judge people for not being the best at something, doesn't think they're less than human or unworthy. But she does judge the crap out of anybody that she doesn't think is trying their absolute hardest at whatever they're trying to do. That new team she and Miho have got going, she talks a lot about it being "about everyone having fun", but I don't think she really understands what that phrase actually means. Not anymore. You couldn't survive at Kuromorimine without going all out, and I think part of her subconsciously sees anyone that isn't trying their hardest as a personal threat, because on the Kuromorimine Senshado team anything a tank crewmember did wrong was just as much the tank commander's fault as it was the crewmember's."
A silence fell after Kiyoshi's monologue. I really didn't mean to end up talking that much. Is there anything to drink around here? There wasn't. He'd have to go down the hall to the vending machine in a bit.
"Man… you should be a psychologist," Seigo finally said, his mouth hanging slightly open in shock. "Or do you just know all that because, like, twin bonds or something?"
"I'd have to see how much math that requires. And there's no such thing as a twin bond, where the hell do people get this shit?"
"Okay, fine, so you're just definitely a natural shrink then. And I promise I'll remember all of that this time, if you really did tell me before and I forgot. All the more reason to hope we crush Kuromorimine this year in the Tournament, if they really are like that. But…" Seigo furrowed his brow, "I still don't get why you're telling me this."
"Man, when I say you're an idiot… Think about what I just told you about my sister, then think about yourself. When was the last time you studied for a test?"
"Dude, today is the first time I've seen you study in, like, ever, so you can't talk about that!"
"I don't matter! Koume is stuck with me, and I'm not trying to impress anyone! You don't study, you don't take notes, you play sports to goof off and hang around but never actually try to join a team, and the only things you actually put in effort on were the worldwide PvP rankings for that one WW2 RTS that hardly anyone actually played and your weird Azur Lane/Mass Effect crossover fanfic or whatever it was." Seigo's face was flaming again. "Plus that incident with the whoopee cushion a few weeks ago. Oh, and you stuffed a first-year in a locker the first week of school this year."
"ONCE, that was ONCE, and you did it with me, and that fucker had literally told me to-,"
"Did I not just tell you that it doesn't matter what I'm doing here? I totally agree that that little shit had it coming, but that doesn't matter. Koume found out I did that through Mom and Dad. She knows you hang out with me. She's smart enough to put two and two together. She thinks you're a bully, and if there's one thing she hates more than people that don't try, it's bullies. Do I have to tell you why? After what I told you about Kuromorimine?"
"That's not bullying, we haven't even seen that kouhai since! It was… it was a practical joke, tit for tat, really, we could've done worse."
"You know that. I know that. She doesn't, and you can't fairly expect her to. So that's why I've been telling you all this. There's a reason I said it's never going to happen. If you want my little sister to look twice at you-,"
"Isn't she actually older than you?"
"Lies and filthy slander, kindly do not repeat it. In any case, first you'd have to figure out a way to actually get in touch with her and meet her from a completely different schoolship. But then, if you did that, you'd also have to basically completely pull your life together and become a model citizen. You think you can do that? No?" Seigo didn't answer.
Kiyoshi picked up his precalculus study guide. Well, I wanted a break from this stupid thing, and this whole conversation was certainly that. "Oh, and also, you got one of these just like me." He waved it in Seigo's direction. "Might want to start on it yourself."
It was Saturday, the day of the closing festivities of the Anglerfish Festival. The time, according to Koume's phone, was ten till six, rapidly nearing dinnertime.
But none of them were hungry at the moment. Not even Hana.
Koume, Miho, and Miho's crew had just been released from the "backstage" area of the festival, where they'd spent most of the day to that point while the various closing ceremonies went on in the town. They'd been offered lunch, at about 10:30 am, but only Koume and Hana had actually eaten anything; Hana because she was Hana, and Koume because she knew she'd need some kind of fuel in her system. The food on offer was just as delicious as the auto club had promised, even better than what she'd had on Thursday and some of the best seafood she'd had in a very long time, but she'd still only managed a few bites. She just hadn't had any appetite. None of them had (except of course for Hana).
Then, at precisely 11:45, they'd been given their costumes for the first time and told to change. A couple of the festival's organizers had wanted them to not wear underwear under the things, so as to "not throw off the contours of the outfit", but to a girl they'd refused. Then, once they were all "dressed", they'd been led to the flatbed trucks, where they'd been joined by the Student Council, who were similarly attired. Technically, Koume had been supposed to dance with the Council as part of their crew, but she'd refused to even contemplate that for a moment and crammed herself onto Miho's truck instead. Then they'd all set off.
The Ankou Dance itself had been every bit as bad as she'd feared and then some. The ride through the town had seemed to last forever and mere seconds simultaneously, as if the experience was somehow warping time itself. All of them had managed to perform the dance moves without flubbing them, as if by some kind of miracle (when they'd been practicing last night, Koume had been certain that the part where you had to kick your right leg up and clap behind it would screw someone up, likely her).
The route had been packed with people. Quite a few of them were Ooarai schoolgirls; Koume had seen quite a few girls from her and Miho's normal classes, as well as the whole rest of the Senshado team at various points along the route. The girls of Duck and Rabbit Team had stared at the passing vehicles, looking utterly dumbfounded from the crowd. The auto club had stood in a block solemnly, all of them keeping perfectly blank faces, even Suzuki. For which Koume was eternally grateful. Hippo Team on the other hand had been hanging onto one another in a desperate attempt to keep from falling to the ground in gales of laughter. For which I swear I'll run them so hard in practice that they'll have the barest inkling of what it was like at Kuromorimine. The image of Saemonza and Caesar doubled over and howling with laughter was burned into her brain. Would that that was the worst thing to have come out of all this.
For every schoolgirl in that crowd, there had seemed to be three or more males. Comparatively few guys of their own age, but what felt like hundreds upon hundreds of men in their mid-twenties or older.
Koume had never really comprehended what the phrase "undressing someone with your eyes" meant until today, all the more so considering she'd barely been dressed to begin with. I feel violated.
They'd served up dinner in the offstage area about an hour ago. This time, not even Hana had been hungry.
The route they were taking back to the hotel was, thankfully, deserted. The Saint Gloriana fans had all long since left town to begin the long journeys back to Yokohama or wherever else they'd come from, the Ibaraki natives had returned to their own homes, and those who were still out and about were closer to the center of town. The six of them didn't have to worry about encountering anyone that might recognize the "tank scrubs with nice butts". Of all the things I never thought I'd be called in public.
The upshot of it all was that they'd spent all of the previous afternoon and night frantically practicing the Ankou Dance, and all of this morning trying to brace themselves for the coming ordeal; instead of doing something useful, like, say, reviewing the map of the battlefield they'd face Maginot on and coming up with a strategy. It was now Saturday evening. They'd face Maginot in the qualifier Monday at noon. They'll have been preparing almost this whole past week. Can we catch a break in anything? Not only would she and Miho have to come up with some sort of plan in this ridiculously small amount of time, but they'd also have to refocus the attention of the team on the upcoming opponent—and AWAY from laughing at their mental images of us in pink spandex, so much for projecting the image of a dignified leader-, take full stock of the ammo and fuel situation, prepare the tanks to be transported, and a bunch of smaller tasks that she was forgetting.
They were perhaps a hundred and fifty meters from the hotel, nearing the end of the walk, when Hana spoke up. Koume nearly jumped at the sound of her voice; every one of them had been quiet for hours now.
"I cannot say that was a pleasant experience."
Koume snorted. "No, it definitely wasn't, Hana-san."
"But," Hana continued, her normally serene face set, "it is done, and we shall not have to do it again. What remains for us is to focus on the matters we can control. Our schoolwork, and our match against Maginot on Monday."
"Good idea," Koume said quietly.
"And what is more," Hana said, her lips beginning to pull into a brave smile, "very few people witnessed that, in the grand scheme of matters. None of our families saw it. Almost all of the girls that we share classes with were not present. They shall all hear only secondhand stories, and such things are easily laughed off and forgotten. Certainly, the story will not travel with us to the other parts of Japan that we travel to for Senshado matches."
"Uhhh…" Koume didn't want to stop Hana when she was attempting to give the rest of the group a desperately needed morale lift, but… "Hana-san, that's not exactly true. Everyone in that crowd had a cellphone. And there were official cameras. Every place on the planet with Internet access knows about the dance if they bothered to look."
Hana's look of newfound confidence disappeared as fast as it had appeared. On the other side of her, Saori made a sort of choked sobbing noise; she and Yukari were walking mere inches apart, as if for mutual support. All traces of their feud from the previous day had vanished.
The dance had been particularly hard on Saori, who'd been dreading it the most from the beginning. Of the six of them, Saori was the most physically well-developed (something she was normally quite proud of), and several steps of the Ankou Dance required one to jump on the spot. The end result had been that by the end of the trucks' route, Takebe Saori had been given the public nickname of "Miss Bouncy", very loudly. She'd been openly crying when they finally got off the flatbeds. She did want more attention from men, a tiny, cruel voice in the bottom of Koume's mind whispered.
Koume squelched it. Nobody wanted this kind of attention. Institutionalized sexual harassment. How is this allowed to continue? Barely more than an hour north of downtown Tokyo?
The same way everything that Kuromorimine does is allowed to continue, the little voice replied.
They fell back into silence and continued another few dozen meters, the hotel looming ever closer through the gathering dusk. This time, it was Miho that broke it. She didn't say much. It almost felt like she wasn't even directly speaking to the rest of them.
"I wonder if Onee-chan was still there," Koume's best friend said softly, staring off into the distance.
"I…" Koume didn't know the answer to that. She hadn't seen Nishizumi Maho in the crowd, but that didn't mean that she hadn't been there; there'd been a whole lot of people after all. Maybe Maho's presence would've cleared a space as it had done on the bleachers, or maybe not. I don't know what to say. Should she tell Miho that she thought Maho had been watching or should she say the reverse? Would it be comforting for Miho to think that her older sister had been supporting her still, or would it deepen the humiliation? The specter of the part of Miho's life that Koume had always been barred from rose up again. Miho had had issues with feeling that she'd embarrassed her sister and family before, maybe she was afraid that this would be another strike against her…
Oh. Koume's pace stuttered as the full implications of Miho's words sank in. She remembered how the Nishizumi family had reacted to the perceived disgrace of Miho costing them the National Championship the previous year (though Miho had of course done no such thing in reality). Anything Nishizumi Maho saw, she would carry back to Kumamoto, Kuromorimine, and her family. If her mother hears that Miho was dressed like that in public, it'll be horrible. The fact that Miho was forced to do it won't help, she was forced to do it because she lost in Senshado, and that would just make it worse to that lunatic witch.
Koume somehow felt even worse than she already did. She cast about for some topic to take Miho's mind off its current track, anything at all.
"Has anyone seen the Student Council since we got done?" Well, that didn't make her feel any better, but hopefully it would serve the purpose.
"No, Koume-san, I have not," Hana answered. "Did they not tell you where they were going?"
Koume laughed mirthlessly. "Hana-san, please pardon me, but the Council doesn't tell me shit." Hana's serene face twitched. "They showed up to do the dance, then vanished right afterwards, at least as far as I could tell."
"I saw Koyama and Kawashima," Miho said, still in that same soft, distant tone. "They were in the corner of the dining area when dinner was served. Kawashima was still crying."
The Council's truck had been ahead of their own, and Koume hadn't exactly been able to constantly watch what was going on in it, what with having to dance herself the whole time. But she'd been able to sneak a few glances in, and part of what she'd seen had been Koyama and Kawashima looking every bit as distressed and humiliated as the rest of them. When the trucks had finally pulled to a stop and they'd all piled out, Kawashima had been crying as hard as Saori. Despite all the friction she'd had with the monocled girl, the sight had been enough to stir another twinge of sympathy from Koume. Seeing those two like that kind of humanizes them. But if the whole thing had humanized Koyama and Kawashima….
"Miho, did you see Kadotani with them?"
Miho shook her head.
"You'd think she might've at least attempted to cheer up her minions," Koume said bitterly. "Given what a good mood she was in."
The general experience of the Ankou Dance had been awful, but that was expected. What had been unexpected had been how, whenever Koume stole a glance over at the Council's truck, Kadotani had seemed to be having fun. The first time she'd looked over there and seen the smile on the Council President's face, she'd very nearly tripped and ruined the dance, catching herself only at the last moment. She was aware that Kadotani normally presented herself in public as a cheery, laid-back girl, hiding her true self, but this went beyond that. It seemed as genuine as the pigtailed girl ever got.
Where the rest of them had been very obviously only going through the motions, Kadotani had thrown herself into the Ankou Dance with seeming glee, practically bouncing through the moves and nailing them all. The catcalls and suggestive leers from the crowd had only seemed to encourage her, despite (or perhaps because of) the fact that she was the physically smallest and most girlish of them all.
"Maybe that's what she was trying to do," Miho suggested. "Maybe she was trying to cheer them and the rest of us up by being happy herself."
It was such a Miho thing to say. She always wants to believe the best of everyone. Always, long past the point of reason. Koume felt the familiar surge of both affection and frustration that she'd felt so many times over the years. "You don't really believe that, Miho."
"….no. But I want to."
"Perhaps there was no ulterior motive, Koume-san," Hana suggested. "Perhaps President Kadotani was simply enjoying the Anglerfish Dance, as difficult as it may be to believe."
"You're absolutely right, Hana-san. That's very difficult to believe." What kind of masochist would enjoy that? "But I don't really see any other option. I don't think anyone's that good of an actor."
They passed through the gates of the hotel, into the parking lot, and began to move towards the glowing front doors.
"I disagree." The voice came from over Koume's shoulder, and Koume started and turned around; Miho, Hana, and after a moment, Saori and Yukari, following suit. She had almost forgotten Mako was even there.
The slight girl had been lagging a few paces behind them ever since they'd started walking, her head bowed seemingly in thought. Now she was looking at them, an odd expression in her amber eyes.
"Mako? What do you mean, 'you disagree'?"
"I disagree that President Kadotani isn't that good of an actor. I think Miho's closer to being right, in that I think Kadotani was putting on a show for the benefit of others. But I don't think she was really enjoying it, either." Mako paused for a moment. Right as Koume was about to ask her to clarify some more, she continued. "I've never been able to directly speak to her. Wasn't there when she dragged you guys into the big office to force you onto the team, I'm not on her tank crew like you, Koume, and I don't have any reason to justify talking to her on a day to day basis. But I've been listening to how you guys talk about what she's like, and after today, I've been thinking."
Mako paused again, this time obviously expecting them to ask her to clarify. Koume obliged her.
"Thinking about what?"
"What do you guys know about how the United States of America's government is set up?"
Uhhhh…. What? Koume blinked, then looked at Miho and Hana. They both seemed as nonplussed as she was.
"Mako-san… forgive me, but I thought we were discussing President Kadotani," Hana said slowly.
"We are. It's a rhetorical question, Hana-san. Just humor me."
"I don't really know much about America's government," Miho said apologetically.
"Me neither. They're a democracy, right? Freedom and liberty and machine guns for everyone?" Koume thought that sounded about right.
Mako appeared unamused. "They're a republic. Democracy is something completely different. Their government is set up just like ours; or rather the other way around, considering that they set ours up for us at the end of the Second World War. Two-part legislative branch, and an executive branch led by the big national leader. Here, he's called the Prime Minister. There, he's the President."
"Seriously, Mako, why are we getting a foreign civics lesson…"
Mako ignored Koume and rolled on. "The Prime Minister or President has a lot of responsibilities, but one of the most important ones is helping to get the policies that he got elected on turned into law. Since it's the legislative branch in both countries that makes the laws, he has to work with the members of that branch to get them to pass the laws he wants. Usually, he'll do this by simply bribing them somehow, or making deals. But one American President, a man in the 1960s named Lyndon Johnson, had a different way of getting what he wanted."
Koume had been about to ask Mako a second time, more loudly, to get to the point. But she held her tongue.
"Most presidents, when they wanted to get the support of a senator or congressman, would invite that person, and maybe some of their friends, to come and meet with them in private to talk about things. President Johnson did that too. But most presidents would hold that meeting in their office; you know, like a normal person. President Johnson would hold it in the bathroom."
Koume blinked again, several times this time. "Wait-,"
"You heard me. He would go into the bathroom, pull down his pants, sit on the toilet, and make the Senators and Congressmen stand outside the door and discuss whatever tax increase or welfare program he was hoping to push through while he was doing his business. Sometimes, he'd deliberately get rid of the toilet paper in the bathroom beforehand, so that he could make one of the poor legislators walk in and hand him a new roll face to face while he was still on his porcelain throne."
Hana made a revolted noise. Koume felt like doing the same. "Mako, seriously, why are you telling us this?"
Mako's amber eyes were almost glowing in the swiftly gathering darkness. Seriously, she's taking the whole "cat motif" too far. "Don't you get it? He was sending a message. 'Look at me,' President Johnson would say without actually saying it. 'Here I am, an old wrinkly man, literally with my pants down, in a completely humiliating situation. And yet you are still obeying me. I am naked, yet you say nothing. I am vulnerable, yet you do nothing. I am powerless, yet I still hold all the power.' He took his own weakness, and weaponized it to get what he wanted."
And Koume finally understood exactly what Mako meant. Kadotani pushed all of us into doing that dance in the first place.
"Mako-san, are you saying that you believe Kadotani set all of that up merely so she could emphasize her own self-confidence and power for our benefit?" Hana asked.
Mako shrugged. "Like I said, sending a message. Maybe to us. Maybe not."
"Mako… how do you know all of that?" Miho asked. "About American government and presidents?"
Mako cocked her head slightly. "I read."
"Fondue? Water, please." Éclair had her hand on her stomach.
"Oui, bien sûr, mon capitaine." Fondue hesitated, then asked, "Would you like some medicine as well?"
"Yes. Please."
Fondue dug into her purse and pulled out a small pink bottle with her left hand, to go with the bottle of mineral water she'd already retrieved with her right. She then placed both bottles on the nearest windowsill, reached back into her purse—such a useful thing to carry around—and plucked out a small plastic cup. She then mixed the two liquids and handed the cup to Éclair.
It only masks the symptoms. But it's the only option we have, for the sake of Maginot. It wouldn't do to let even the rest of the team know what Éclair had been going through these past few months, let alone anyone else aboard the Maginot schoolship. They did this to her. And yet still she persists, to bring glory to them and to our school.
Éclair threw her head back and downed the contents of the cup in one swallow. After a moment, she slowly straightened from her previously stooped posture.
"Thank the gods that stuff still works, even if for less and less time as these weeks go by." The Maginot Captain wiped her mouth.
"It will only work for so long, mon capitaine," Fondue said quietly.
"We only need it to work to the end of the tournament." Éclair resumed her walk down the hallway that lead to the Senshado building's lone conference room. "Speaking of which, did I tell you why I called this meeting with the tank commanders?"
"Non, but I can guess. We've received the details of our qualifier match?" It wasn't hard. It was the Tuesday of the week before the qualifiers. Honestly, Fondue was surprised they hadn't received their match details before this.
"Correct."
"So, strategy, then? Time to debut our new doctrine in an official setting for the first time?"
"Oui… but… there's a bit more to it." The large, dark brown wooden doors of the conference room loomed ahead of them. "It'll be quicker if I just explain to everyone all at once." Éclair laid her hand on the right door and pushed it open.
The conference room was an opulent place, seemingly taken straight out of an upscale business in Paris in the late 1800s. Velvet curtains, plush upholstery on the chairs, tall wooden bookshelves lining one wall, and more. It was, truly, a grand little setting, but truth be told the only thing Fondue had ever been able to feel on entering the room was bitterness. Our school has so little money. Barely enough to give out scholarships some years, if I've read the records right. Even the sponsorship money from France, most of that goes to BC Freedom and not us. How much did it cost, to have this room renovated into this state? What might those funds have purchased?
The centerpiece of it all was a long wooden table, with enough space and seats to fit eight people a side. Fondue had never seen it more than just over half full. Right now, there were six girls there—Éclair had waited a bit before the two of them had set out, so as to allow all the tank commanders time to get there first. "Fashionably late", I believe it's called.
"Good afternoon, ladies." Éclair strode to the head of the table and laid the sheaf of papers that she had been carrying down on its surface, as her tank commanders chorused their greetings back. "I've called you all here because I have a bit of an announcement to make. Perhaps you're like Fondue and you've already figured it out, but in case you haven't, the Federation has sent us the details of our qualifier this coming week."
Annaliese, a second year with shoulder-length black hair, raised her hand. "Capitaine? When is it?"
"Next Monday. Six days from now." Éclair pushed the sheaf of papers towards Annaliese. "Take one, pass them down, it's got the essentials on it."
Brie, a first year with blond curls framing her jaw, apparently couldn't wait for the papers to reach her. "Who? Who did we get? Avons-nous été assignés à un adversaire intéressant? Is it Gregor? Anzio? Did we get BC Freedom, that would be merveilleuse, to show them who the best French school really is-,"
"It's a new school," Éclair interjected firmly. "A place in Ibaraki Prefecture called Ooarai. According to the Federation, they only have five tanks— the details of their vehicles are in the papers. Not that it'll matter for this match, as the limit for the qualifiers is five in any case; we'll be discussing the travel roster later this week."
"A new school?" A third girl, Camembert, asked. She, too, was a first year. Four of these six girls are first years. The other two are second years. I am a second year. Éclair is a second year. There was no longer a third year on the Maginot Senshado team. Not for the last three months. "You mean, a new Senshado team? Capitaine Éclair, that sounds perfect! A weak opponent, someone who will be defenseless against our new tactics! We're making it into the Tournament itself this year for sure!" Camembert sounded almost gleeful.
Éclair slammed her fist down on the table, her face flushed with anger. Oh no, not again, why does she do this to herself? "Absolutely not! Camembert! Je ne tolérerai pas l'arrogance sur cette équipe!" Not just Camembert, but every girl at the table, shrunk back at Éclair's sudden outburst, and a loud silence fell over the room. Éclair remained in the position she had taken, leaning forward over the table, her right fist balled on its surface. Her left hand surreptitiously moved to her stomach; Fondue prayed that she was the only one who saw it.
Slowly, Éclair stood back up. "I will not tolerate arrogance on this team," she repeated in Japanese and in a calmer tone. "Of any sort. Maginot has not earned such an attitude, and even if we had I still would not tolerate it. We will prepare for this 'Ooarai' school with the same commitment and diligence that we would if we were facing Kuromorimine. In a way," Éclair's eyes glinted and her voice took on an odd tone, "we are."
What does she mean by that?
"Please turn to the third page of your papers," Éclair commanded. Fondue, who despite being the Vice-Captain had not gotten a packet, stood by and watched as the tank commanders rustled through and read. After a few moments, Éclair spoke again. "Would someone like to tell me what the name of our opponent's team captain is?"
Brie raised a slightly trembling hand. "Nishizumi Miho, mon Capitaine." Her voice, as well as the other girls' faces, was awed.
"Nishizumi Miho," Éclair repeated, almost savoring the words. Fondue recognized the name; the younger sister of the Nishizumi family. The one at the heart of Kuromorimine's loss in last year's National Championship. The lesser sister, not nearly so famed or skilled as the elder…
But a Nishizumi still. To Éclair, that will be all that matters. Éclair had idolized the Nishizumis, and their Style of Senshado, since she had first gotten into a tank. She'd told Fondue that, a scant few days after Fondue had volunteered to be her Vice-Captain. In other circumstances, Fondue might've wondered why a girl she barely knew was so easily opening up to her. In other circumstances.
In the circumstances that Éclair had taken the Captaincy in, it had made perfect sense.
Maginot Senshado was all about tradition. That was not inherently a bad thing; Fondue (as well as Éclair, at least in private) was perfectly capable of acknowledging that some traditions were perfectly fine. Traditions of innovation, of competitiveness, of team spirit, of excellence, these things were what built champions.
The problem was that at Maginot, tradition dictated that the team find a suitable hill or other terrain feature at the beginning of every single match, dig their tanks in on it in a defensive formation, and sit placidly until the enemy came to them. No urgency. No fire.
Somehow, it was also traditional to be completely shocked (shocked) when yielding the initiative to the other team and sitting passively on your butt for the entire match resulted in defeat. Again, and again, and again.
Maginot had not made it out of the qualifiers in twelve years. Thirteen years ago, a lucky shot had knocked out Viggen's flag tank just as it was drawing a bead on their own, and Maginot had advanced to be unceremoniously squashed by Pravda in the first round.
Last year, Fondue and Éclair's first, had been just like all the ones before it. Outmaneuvered and beaten. They'd then lost all but one of their standalone and exhibition matches in the late summer and early fall, and gotten bounced from the first round of the Commemorative Cup in the winter. By Anzio. Anzio.
Fondue served on a different tank crew from Éclair, and had never paid much attention to the other first year (she'd been much too busy), before the aftermath of that particular loss. On that day, Éclair had exited her tank after her fellow crew—none of whom were happy, but none of whom were particularly upset either. Her face had been flushed dark enough that it looked like a pomegranate with long black hair rested on her shoulders, a pomegranate with tears pouring down its face. She hadn't said anything, but she'd still made enough noise to attract the attention of everyone in the garage by punching the hull of her tank until her knuckles were covered with blood. Every detail of it was permanently etched in Fondue's memory. Éclair had since told her that the only reason she hadn't quit at that moment was out of a desperate hope that surely, surely, this loss would finally snap the higher ups of Maginot Senshado out of their blind worship of "tradition".
It had been a very naïve hope. As proven on the very first day of this school year, the first day of the new team's practice, when Captain Madeline had announced the practice schedule and focuses. No changes had been made from the previous year, and she intended to "continue the long and glorious traditions of Maginot in the manner that previous classes have taught us".
And Éclair had snapped.
She hadn't thrown any punches or gotten violent. But she'd broken ranks, ignoring all pretense of rank or discipline or respect. She'd marched right up to their Team Captain and begun to shout at her. She had called Madeline incompetent, blind, apathetic. She'd stopped just short of calling her a coward.
As much as she understood and agreed with why Éclair felt as she did, looking back, Fondue could only marvel at the way Madeline had conducted herself. She would've been perfectly justified to immediately throw Éclair off the team. There were Captains of other Senshado teams out there that would've told their fellow third years to beat the impudent mutineer into a pulp, and the expressions of several Maginot senpai had shown that they were positively eager to do so.
Instead, Madeline had asked, calmly and with dignity, if Éclair believed that she could do better. When Éclair responded with an emphatic yes, Madeline had scheduled a 1v1 tank duel for two days later. If Éclair won, Madeline would cede the Team Captaincy to her. If Madeline won, Éclair would quit the team.
It had been Éclair's first time ever commanding a tank—she'd been solely a gunner since the youth leagues. But she had won. In full view of the rest of the team, Madeline had removed the golden rank insignia from her own shoulders and pinned them on Éclair's. She had given Éclair the key to the Captain's office, then walked over and joined the stunned crew of Éclair's former tank.
And Éclair reformed us into a powerhouse with much rejoicing and we all lived happily ever after.
In the present, Fondue gave the barest hint of a snort.
Madeline had consented to the terms of the duel. The rest of the team had not. The third years, and many second years, had refused to accept Éclair's new authority. They had ignored Éclair's orders for maneuvers on the practice field. They radioed Madeline's new tank—one in which Madeline, by her own volition, was merely a gunner, taking Éclair's old spot—to ask for instructions, over the team radio channel so Éclair would be sure to hear. Twice, they'd outright sabotaged Éclair's tank, to force her to stay in the garage while the rest of them went out onto the field.
Finally, in an attempt to remove any threat to Éclair's authority, Madeline had resigned from the team. Over half of Maginot Senshado had followed her. Every single third year, and two thirds of the second years. More than half of the team's tanks were now permanently in the garage for lack of crew.
It had been at that point, in the aftermath of the great exodus, when Fondue had spoken to Éclair for the first time.
She hadn't particularly been a fan of how Éclair had gained the Captaincy. But gained it Eclair had, and the team had looked to be on the verge of falling completely apart. She needed help of some kind, that had been obvious.
But beyond that, Fondue had seen what Éclair was trying to do: the introduction of maneuvers, of aggressive tactics and a fierce mindset into their team. She'd seen it, and she'd liked it. She'd felt, she still felt, that Éclair could be the leader Maginot needed. If only she was given support.
So she'd mustered up her courage, walked to the Captain's office, and requested in so many words to be named Vice-Captain. Éclair had quickly accepted.
And so now, here she was.
"I see you all are very familiar with everything that the name 'Nishizumi' means," Éclair told the assembled tank commanders. "Tres bien. I repeat what I told Camembert: we shall not be arrogant. We shall not underestimate the cleverness of our opponent in the slightest. But!" Éclair's eyes gleamed. "We do have a few advantages."
A/N: So, this one is way overdue. Sorry? It's partially excusable, as not long after the last one was published my life got really hectic. But then I had weeks where it wasn't hectic and just procrastinated… blah. At least I managed to keep it to still a chapter in a calendar month! Oh, and for anyone that speaks French and is angry about how I'm inevitably botching the language, blame Google Translate.
Reviews:
DarthFii: … hold onto that thought. It's a ways yet to go before the TigerP becomes an option, and who knows what may have happened by then?
AsianTuba: We're going to see a lot more of the Nishizumis' history as time goes on.
Websplorer: Duck Team did shine, didn't they?
As always, thanks for reading, following, faving, etc. Please review if there's anything at all you might want to say!