-Chapter 2– The Road To Kumamoto Pt. 2
The four tankers head off on their own little side missions before heading off to Kumamoto, and Kuromorimine Girls' Academy.
"Alright everyone, remember the plan – text in at forty-five, back on the train by fifty." Roman advised, quietly restating the plan that he and the crew had gone over in the cabin. He stood near one of the train's exit doors. Outside the windows, the platforms of Hiroshima Station were in view, moving more and more slowly as the engine approached its final point of rest.
Momo, Erwin, and Aono nodded their heads in understanding. Each of them had differing tasks to complete in the short time available while the train underwent maintenance and restocking.
Standing close to the commander, Aono snickered and turned toward the others. "Remember: No Russian." His comment was met with groans – not just from the team, but a few others within earshot.
"Is it always video game references with you?" Muttered Momo, casting a judgmental glare at him.
He kept a smile on his face, despite knowing that others didn't find his joke as amusing as he did. "N-not always… Sometimes movies, TV shows, songs… why?"
Momo chose not to answer but did feel a strange hint of reluctant amusement; Aono was eerily like his sister Aya, despite being several years older, a few inches taller, and from the same academy as Roman.
The interior of the train car immediately cooled as the doors opened, fresh air whooshing in. The effervescence of a cool October morning was quickly replaced by the energy of purposeful walking; every occupant of the train proceeded to exit, many with roller-bags full of luggage coming along with them. The train station immediately became a cacophony of echoing sounds.
Momo and Aono headed toward a railway concourse near the front of the train, while Erwin and Roman headed toward some turnstiles past the rear.
"You got this, Erwin?" Roman asked, keeping a brisk pace as he shifted the weight of a gray messenger bag on his shoulder.
Erwin wore a backpack over her field jacket, and her field Marshall's cap was tipped slightly forward, denoting purposeful direction just as she was in her own confident stride. In one hand was a written list on a notepad that had been given to her by Momo, her cellular phone in the other. "Of course." She replied, shooting a sideways glance his way. "This isn't my first foray into the fray. The same with you?"
"I know my way around." He said with similar confidence, although he didn't want to admit that there was some doubt; after all, he'd never set foot in Hiroshima, nor many parts of Japan for that matter. Only where he'd visited, and his Japanese, while good, still had a detectable accent that would make native speakers pick out the foreigner in him almost as quickly as his looks. "And even if I don't, I know who to trust. Need me to come lend a hand, anyhow?"
Erwin shook her head nonchalantly. "It's under control, Kommandant. I'm getting uniforms. Momo gave specific criteria, and I might be trying before buying." Her eyebrows curved as she shot him a cunning look. "Not for your eyes!"
While that hadn't been his intention, Roman's mind played briefly with the idea set before him. In the past he'd been roped into similar shopping trips with girls he'd been seeing – foolishly thinking like many young, clueless guys that he'd be rewarded with some eye candy in the process.
However, ninety-five percent of those times turned out to be soul-sucking, to say the least. Would it be any different with tankery uniforms?
Well, maybe. At the least, a bit interesting… Ah, hell with it. He thought, finally abandoning any mischievous thoughts he had. There was even less probability of 'entertainment' with the time allotted. "Fair point." He conceded, tossing a casual salute with two fingers to his temple. "Stay in touch."
Passing through the turnstiles, Erwin nodded as their paths began to divide. "'Sweat saves blood, blood saves lives, and brains saves both.' Godspeed, Hunter." She added a quick tip of her brim before swiftly disappearing into a crowd of travelers headed in the same direction as her.
As for Roman, he knew that he didn't have far to go; other than being tasked with gathering batteries for Aono, he had to find a quiet, secure place in which to place a call; he carried the documents of his entire crew, and had to get in touch with Kuromorimine, ensuring that they would indeed be met at the end of their journey.
Cheeky girl… Not that I would mind horribly, but that's presuming a bit much.
Meanwhile, Momo and Aono were handling the grunt work of picking up the food order. The restaurant they'd chosen for breakfast was fairly close to Hiroshima Station, but the pair had to board another train to get there.
After a circuitous trek involving much running through the train station, they squeezed themselves into a metro train, which was appropriately packed with locals and visitors to Hiroshima alike.
With only standing room available, Momo had to uncomfortably position herself close to some businessmen who, for the most part, were minding their own business, staring at their phones. One or two of them did look her way, eyeing her unfamiliar school uniform, and she regretted not wearing something a bit more inconspicuous.
She wasn't unfamiliar with riding metro trains, considering that her hometown of Mito was the capitol of Ibaraki prefecture. However, being on a schoolship for so long made her uncomfortable to stand with unfamiliar men in close quarters, especially so far from home, and without her student council friends within arm's reach.
Her only advocate to take solace in was the aloof corporal, and she still wasn't sure what to make of him. Aono was off in a world of his own, humming to himself as he held on to one of the grab handles in the ceiling.
How in the world is he so… carefree? He's a military cadet, isn't he? So much like his little sister, it's scary. She thought, studying him clandestinely. Were it not for his uniform and tamed, yet still-messy hairstyle, he could easily be mistaken for a common youth, nearly at graduation age.
"Oono-kun…" She finally spoke, keeping her voice low.
"Hmm?" He turned to face her, almost losing his balance as the train rounded a corner. Conversely to her, he had a kind smile on his face, without a care in the world.
"How did you become part of the lieutenant's crew? Were you two in class together?"
Aono, keeping his voice low as was proper etiquette on a train, shook his head. "Roman was at the academy long before I got there. I was a transfer. I heard that Blithe was one of few schools to allow guys into Sensha-dō. I mean, they call it Panzerkraft there, but it was the reason I went."
Momo raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You transferred out of Japan to go to an American military academy just to do Sensha-dō?"
He nodded enthusiastically. "I already had top marks in my class, and could have gone elsewhere, but when I heard I could actually go someplace to have a shot at Sensha-dō, I went with my gut and took the chance!"
Momo's eyes grew large, and she bit down on her tongue to keep a straight face. She couldn't understand the logic behind a Japanese student with good marks choosing an overseas institution that trained military personnel just to get into a female-dominated sport. There had to be a reason behind it all that he wasn't telling. "I see. Your parents were comfortable with your choice?"
"Oh, of course not. They gave me so much grief over it, even though Aya took it up herself. Luckily, over time they've cooled off. A little bit, anyhow."
"Wait, that couldn't have been that long ago. You're telling me that you've only known Lieutenant Hunter for about a year?"
"Yep!"
A few other passengers began to look their way, so Momo responded with a simple nod and went back to staring out the windows at the metro tunnels as they passed.
This boy is lying. There is no way he could be that smart and that stupid at the same time! She thought. She badly wanted to call Aono out on his holes in logic, but their stop was coming up. She also knew that getting some food in her stomach would likely soothe her mood, so she decided to let the topic rest for the time being.
Using his phone to guide him, Roman was able to find an internet café a few blocks away from the train station. Having never entered one, he was surprised at how clean and orderly it was inside.
Even more surprising to him was the sheer amount of people already there; as he entered and approached the front desk, he was passed by three tired-eyed men of differing ages: one a middle-aged man in a business suit, carrying his briefcase and a newspaper under one arm; another younger, possibly at university age, wearing a parka and carrying a rucksack; and one who couldn't be a day over eighteen, carrying a laptop and whose mannerisms reminded him so much of Aono. They kept their eyes low as they passed, heading through the door that Roman had just come through.
"Thank you! Have a good day, come again!" A cheerful woman nearing middle age, with long black hair cascading over her shoulders bade them farewell from behind the counter. She then focused her blue eyes on the foreign cadet in uniform, weighed his appearance and adjusted her speech, switching to remarkably good English. "Hi there. Welcome to Meteor Café. Would you like a space to use the internet? How long?"
Roman politely bowed his head, then looked at the chart on the wall, which the woman pointed to. Wait a minute… He thought, coming to a sudden realization. As he surveyed more of the café's interior, it quickly dawned on him that there were shelves full of memorabilia and models, as well as posters and signage all over the walls, dedicated to Sensha-dō. He could recognize the insignia of familiar schools: Saunders, Keizoku/Jatkosota, St. Gloriana, Pravda, Oarai, and of course, Kuromorimine.
There were even some schools that weren't familiar to him – one with a shield of what looked like a polar bear grabbing a giant tank shell; another with a Viking helmet. He wasn't sure which schools those belonged to.
He'd selected the café specifically for the 'Meteor' name, like the British engine. He'd had no idea that tankery was part of the major theme. There were other sports represented as well – Baseball, tennis, racquetball, basketball – just to break things up, but it was obvious that Sensha-dō reigned supreme.
"Er… sorry." He responded, realizing that he'd gone silent to the question being asked. The shortest time slot was half an hour – he doubted he'd even need that long. The longest, surprisingly, went for twelve hours, and there was even a section dedicated to special overnight rates. Overnight. He then responded in English, quickly flipping back to Japanese with the best confidence he could muster. "Half an hour, please. 30-Bu to 1-jikan onegaishimasu."
The woman nodded approvingly, and after Roman paid the fees, she came out from behind the counter to lead him into the café proper.
As he passed the counter, he noticed a young girl, around the age of ten, sitting behind the counter on a kneeling stool, reading a book. She had black hair that was tied in two tails, and was wearing an olive drab sweatshirt with the screen-printed silhouette of a British Comet tank on it. She looked up curiously at him with piercing blue eyes, not sure what to make of his tanker's jacket and the various foreign patches attached.
Getting an overall positive feeling from her, he threw her a quick wave before moving along to follow the woman. This place is a good omen. Hopefully that means we've got luck on our side.
In the main area of the café, there where rows of lockers were against one wall, cubicles at the other. Each cubicle had wooden walls and doors for privacy, and as he passed by a few he could see that there was a desk provided as well as a chair, a lamp, and of course, a computer in most. Some were occupied, but those inside paid little attention as he walked by.
"Here you are. This one was just made ready. Would you like tea, or perhaps something to eat while you're here?" The woman offered, showing him an open cubicle that, true to her word, looked like it had just been vacuumed and tended to. It was just large enough for one person to sit inside, and with enough storage space for a single backpack.
Turning to face her, he smiled and took off his shoulder bag, tossing it onto the waiting office chair. "Food? Thank you for the hospitality, but that won't be necessary. Say, I couldn't help but notice all of the Sensha-dō material here."
She beamed proudly. "Yes, it is quite a collection, isn't it? I've been collecting items for years, ever since I left school."
"Have you? I wasn't aware that Hiroshima had a team."
"Oh no, it wasn't here in Hiroshima." She waved a hand dismissively. "I went to school in Yokohama. Are you… are you military, or just a fan of the sport?"
"Sorta both. I'm on my way to train with a school in Sensha-dō right now, in fact."
Studying his attire and overall appearance, she reasonably found herself at odds with his statement, tilting her eyebrows suspiciously. "Is that so? I wasn't aware that there were boys in Sensha-dō."
He let off a little sigh, giving a good-natured smile as he confirmed. "Yes. I know it's odd, but that's what I do. The JSF made an international agreement with my league, and I was selected to come here to train-slash-teach."
"I see. And what exactly are you teaching?"
"Well… I can't go into too many details, but there are a number of different styles of tankery that we'll be introducing. But if you have access to video sharing in the US, you can look up 'Tanker-Ball'. It's one of the games that our league developed, and it's really taken off. There are some great matches you'd enjoy watching."
She nodded curtly, still looking fairly suspicious of all he had told her. "I shall. And where are you from, exactly?"
"United States. Blithe Academy. We're fairly close to a place called Burns, Oregon. Lots of wide-open space out there. Great area for Panzerkraft, although it's in the middle of nowhere."
Taking this information, the woman nodded, crossing her arms. "Interesting. Well, I shall leave you to your business, then. Do let me know if you need anything." With a polite bow of her head, she turned to walk away, perhaps a touch hastily.
Roman let off another sigh. It was an everyday reality to him that at Blithe Academy and even in the League, males were a minority. Guys like him and Aono had to constantly prove their worth, and most of all, their integrity. It was a burden he shouldered with dignity, but the sting was always there.
The young girl from behind the counter had been eavesdropping from inside a vacant cubicle, and upon his mentions, immediately started a search of the internet, running through a VPN to access international videos. Technologically savvy, her tiny fingers moved with superior fluency as she began to search up "Tanker Ball" on YouTube.
After closing the door, Roman logged into the computer and synced up with his phone. After a few minutes he was able to access his emails and appointment calendar, going straight to a slotted time for a video conference that had been set up days before.
"With only a minute to spare… huzzah!" He muttered, shuffling the documents he had onto the desk in front of him. He took only a few moments to check the positioning of the webcam, then accepted the invitation.
The application on the computer indicated a good connection and that he'd successfully joined. On the other side of the screen was a well-defined young woman in a gray uniform shirt with a black collar, sitting at her own desk. She was busy, leaning forward to adjust her camera, a bit surprised that she was already live.
"Hold, please! Just a moment." She spoke, then muted herself, looking to somebody off-camera.
Roman nodded, adjusting the light a bit while he took in more details. Voluminous, wavy auburn hair, blue eyes, and a kind, almost cherubic face… "Man, she's cute. Another good omen."
"Hm? I'm sorry?" She asked, un-muting herself.
"Shi… I mean, sorry, was just testing the… thing. I don't do so many meetings like these." He stumbled, realizing that he'd given his appraisal of her verbally. Luckily he'd been talking under his breath, but mentally he was slapping himself. Idiot.
"Oh! Neither do I." She answered with a laugh and toss of her hair. "Are you ready to begin, then? I'll try to keep this as brief as possible, as I know you have a train to catch."
"Yes, go ahead."
She nodded, grabbing a fancy ballpoint pen and a few forms, setting them on the desk in front of her before folding her hands neatly on top of one another. "Now, then… You don't mind if this conversation is recorded, do you?."
"No, I don't mind. If you'll just… delete the last few seconds of us stumbling, there." He replied, only half-joking. He really didn't want anyone going back and enhancing his little foul-up.
"Oh, don't worry. It just makes things easier on our end in case any details are missed. So, to begin, I am Koume Akaboshi, and I have been assigned as your liaison. Anything that you or your crew may need, please don't hesitate to contact me. And could you state your name and classification, to confirm our records?"
"Senior Lieutenant Roman Hunter, Vice-commander of the 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment, Blithe Military Academy, Oregon. Integrierte Ligen division Bravo."
Koume fluently wrote on the forms that she had, confirming and crossing off check-boxes. "Wunderbar. If you would be so good, I would like proofs of the files you have for our records. Are you able to send images via phone?"
He nodded, noting just how thorough Kuromorimine seemed to be with their practices. It felt like he was dealing with a legitimate military organization – not so much like Pravda and definitely not like Oarai, whose approach was rather informal with Anzu – 'Lil Chomp – casually munching on dried sweet potatoes during that call. "I can. Did you want me to do that now? Would the webcam be better?"
"Yes, please. And your phone would be best; the image quality isn't great on these cameras, is it?"
As asked, he used his phone to frame each page of the documents he'd brought, naming off each member of his crew. As he gave the particulars on Erwin and Momo, Koume's expression looked progressively more confused, and she had to mute herself a couple of times as she seemed to be spoken to by somebody off-camera again.
Once every page had been scanned and sent, Koume took herself off mute to respond. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant Hunter. I do have a question – we were unaware of this change in personnel. The original brief as it was sent to us showed only one female as part of your crew: a Sergeant Sandra Temple. We were also expecting a Sergeant Alexandyr Volchok. Is there a reason for this change?"
"Yes. There was a conflict before my team arrived at Oarai. Unfortunately, I had to make an executive decision to remove one crew member, and another quit. Oarai was gracious enough to send two of their best, in their stead."
"I see. So this conflict wasn't related to injury?"
"No." His tone was blunter than he liked, but that's how it came out. "This was a matter of personality and integrity."
"Would you care to elaborate further?" Koume continued writing, stopping only briefly as she asked for clarity.
"One crew member made a series of comments and actions unacceptable to the League, and I made the choice to stop it before it got out of hand. Unfortunately, that wasn't before one crew member chose to leave of their own accord."
"I see. And those comments and actions were?"
Roman paused briefly, staring blankly at her image. "Off the record?"
"Hm?"
"I will discuss the content off-record. Otherwise I am bound by doctrine not to disclose, as it is between myself, the persons involved, and my superiors at Blithe, to be handled internally."
Koume's eyes moved away, and she muted herself once again, setting her pen down while she spoke with whoever was off-camera. After about ten seconds, she took herself back off. "I'm afraid I cannot oblige that request, Lieutenant Hunter. The guidelines given to us by the Japanese Sensha-dō Federation allow us to request a certain level of transparency, you understand."
He succinctly shook his head and responded coldly. "With all due respect, Ms. Akaboshi, I decline to state. I am bound by strict regulation in this regard, and will not bend."
He braced himself, knowing that if Kuromorimine took offense at this point, they could deny the transfer of his team, and his team would be in a rough spot until another school could arrange to request and transfer them.
It was an outcome that could take days, even weeks to resolve. And outcome he didn't desire, but still, regulations were regulations, and for all he knew his integrity was being tested.
Once again muting herself, Koume motioned for him to wait for a moment and stepped away from her desk.
It was several minutes later when she finally returned, and by then he was checking his watch, seeing the time tick down. He would have to make plans to run his way back to the train station before long.
When she re-seated herself, there was a detectable look of frustration and confusion in her eyes. However, she steeled her nerves, pushed her documents aside and reached for a keyboard. She typed fervently, finally hitting Enter. A pop-up message appeared before Roman's eyes.
[I apologize for the wait, Lieutenant. I will arrange for the immediate transfer of your vehicle and your team once you have arrived in Kumamoto. An introductory video will be sent shortly. Please review it with your team. Keep your phone available and contact once you are within an hour of arrival at the port. Thank you.]
Once he returned a simple "[OK]", the call abruptly ended, forcing the lieutenant to chew at his tongue in surprise.
"Huh… that was weird. At least that didn't mean 'no." He muttered, gathering his things. He found it hard to unclench his hands; they'd been balled into fists under the table, ever since his memory had been jogged to the topic that Akaboshi had been pressing him about.
It had been over a month in the past, but recalling the event in question still made his blood boil. A person whom he had trusted, who was thought to share the same vision as he and the rest of the crew had shown their true colors, and they were ugly shades. All it would take was one or two off-color reports to the wrong people, and the reputation of all the visiting Bullpen teams would be jeopardized.
"The best I can do is make sure it won't be my team that fucks up." He grumbled, shouldering his bag and opening the door to head out.
Erwin had enjoyed an uneventful walk to a shop that sold all manner of sporting equipment, along with uniforms for tankery. Despite Hiroshima not having a team, it wasn't uncommon for tankery students traveling through to need such supplies.
Treating herself to some retail therapy, she perused shelf after shelf of small knickknacks and trinkets dedicated to Sensha-dō – key-chains, 1/100th scale models, plush tank shells – all the usual things she'd seen before but still enjoyed. There was even a framed photo of Oarai from their tournament win.
It felt odd to look at herself in the group photo, smiling proudly while she stood among her classmates, gathered around the infamous Panzer IV with Anglerfish markings, and commander Miho holding the championship flag. Fond memories of not so long ago…
It was a rousing victory. And now, I venture boldly behind enemy lines. She thought, wondering just how things would go for her at Kuromorimine, the school that she'd faced along with her friends in that very tournament.
She wondered about the students there. Going to a new school, taking classes among the elite tankers that made up the force of Kuromorimine – would she find friends among them? Or would she have to lean solely on her three teammates for camaraderie? Would there be acceptance of her strengths, her knowledge of the very history that their school patterned its image after? Or would she be seen as a laughing stock?
Such thoughts troubled her, but she calmed herself while staring at a large-scale model of a Jagdpanther. She would see them daily – grand machines of German design. Panthers, Tigers, and yes, even the drool-worthy Jagdpanther! Even if the student body wasn't accepting of her, there would at least be respite in fabulous Deutsche Maschinen.
Of course, she wouldn't be working in one of those beauties, but a vehicle that she personally found atrocious, with its unsightly angular superstructure and its cramped interior thanks to a Christie suspension. The only good thing about Roza, in her mind, was the 100mm D-10SK gun. Sure, it was powerful, but she still missed the thunderous report of the StuG's StuK 40 L/48. Memories of smoking that Sherman during the Saunders match still gave her full-body chills.
Ah… I sound like an old person, stuck in the past. It's time to move forward from such things. Embrace the winds of change. A new era! She told herself, moving toward the numerous uniform racks with list in hand.
Momo had given a set of measurements, along with a list of what she'd felt would be acceptable in their new roles. Navy blue bottoms and gray shirts, with green field jackets like the ones that Hunter and Oono both had. Simple enough; but she frowned at the further specifications."Capri pants? I may not be one to talk, but someone call the fashion police!"
She made the immediate decision that Momo's decision would need severe modification; especially when she had such nice boots to show off. Besides, skirts worked back at Oarai, why not here?
Then another thought occurred; skirts worked when they weren't sharing a tank with boys, and with all the bending and twisting one would have to do in such a cramped environment, there was the likelihood of things being seen that she would rather keep hidden.
But what else would there be? Full pants? Tight-fitting short pants, like the girls from Saunders? Jumpsuits?
Contemplating the options, she looked at her own attire; she was currently in a variation of what she would call her casual Afrika outfit; field coat, loose-fitting black t-shirt, tan cargo shorts and tall black Marschstiefel. It was an outfit that she felt was suited for the stuffy interior of a tank, but could also be warmer than a skirt when dealing with snow. Thoughts of the Pravda match made her legs break out in goosebumps.
But you know, it would be rather helpful to finally have a uniform with real pockets… She continued to browse, at last setting her hands on a pair of navy-blue cargo shorts that hit just an inch or two above the knee, cut in just the way to complement form while being loose enough to allow freedom of movement. And there were pockets aplenty. "That's it!"
She kept an eye on her time, excitedly procuring items according to Momo's notes. Before long she'd be heading back to the train station, aimed at striding back victoriously.
"A tortilla! White flour, water, flattened and cooked on both sides! Why couldn't they understand that? But more, why did the commander have to come up with such an odd request? Breakfast burrito… Who the hell eats a burrito for breakfast?!"
With plastic bags draping from her arms, Momo tapped her foot indignantly while vocally expressing her frustration to Aono who, just the same, was laden with bags from several different shops. He was taking some time to inventory all that they had, setting the bags on a table with benches, conscientiously comparing receipts.
"I'm sure the lieutenant thought they'd have a Taco Dell or something like it here in Japan. I guess we should have told him that they haven't had a shop here in decades! Maybe in Tokyo!" He replied with a jovial laugh, doing his best not to play into Momo's grumpiness.
"What the heck is a Taco Dell?" She grumbled, watching the cataloging process. "Are you about finished? Koyama would have had this stuff confirmed, even with written reports, in half the time!"
Aono gritted his teeth, but didn't let his frustration stop him. One small supreme pizza, enough for each to have exactly one slice... "With all respect, I am not Koyama-san. But I am doing my best!"
Momo grumbled again, sounding similar to an aggravated mountain lion. She wasn't sure if her malice was from hunger, impatience, or the conclusion she'd come to earlier about Aono's story. Or all three. She couldn't shake the idea that she would be sharing a tank with an idiot, possibly two.
If the commander didn't understand that strange Mexican-esque food wasn't readily available this far across the Pacific, she could increase the count of idiots per vehicle to two.
Their trek for sustenance had brought Aono and Momo to a high-profile mall, where a plethora of different stores and a food court with a generous variety of food was available to serve them. Yet, upon being handed the laptop back in the cabin and perusing said variety, the lieutenant simply looked, shrugged after ten seconds and said, "Eh, just find me a breakfast burrito or something. I don't need all that much."
Momo's inner monologue went on a machine-gun tirade. Trying to sound humble, 'don't need all that much'… Who is he kidding? He'd probably have a better time with Saunders, with all their ridiculous food. They probably have this 'Taco Dell' right on their campus, along with BurgerDonald's or whatever it's called. Or maybe he'd like a Jollibee while we're living in the realm of fantasy. KFC! Couldn't he at least be boring and go with something like KFC? Nooo! 'It's just a tortilla stuffed with eggs, sausage and potatoes. I'm sure they got 'em!' SURE, LIEUTENANT, I'M SURE THEY GOT WHATEVER YOUR HEART DESIRES, IDIOT!
"Er… Momo, are you feeling alright?" Aono expressed concern, noticing that although she'd gone silent, Momo's face was turning more and more red as her inner irritation continued to pile up like a landfill of discarded Furbies.
Normally, such a question would be asked by Yuzu Koyama, in her unique, gentle way; Anzu, despite not placing much weight on caring about Momo's outbursts, knew better than to kick the hornet's nest. Yuzu had a special talent for being able to outmaneuver and calm Momo's roiling oceans of rage, in which anger sharks swum and snapped at wooden boats bobbing along the surface.
But Aono Oono, brother of the naively impudent freshman Aya, knew nothing of this, and was figuratively poking said sharks in the nose with his paddle. In fact, there was so little to his behavior that spoke of a kid who'd been getting kicked into shape at a military academy for an extensive period of time. He was simply too casual, annoyingly familiar with her and, frankly, was overstepping bounds that she couldn't quite put into words – it simply stoked Momo's anger further.
He'd begun to notice her eye twitching, her foot no longer tapping, but vibrating. "M-Momo…?" His further query was laced with tangible fear.
She could hear Yuzu's voice in her head, and envisioned her friendly, well-endowed colleague standing next to her, with a hand delicately placed on her bicep, which was flexed under all the weight of restaurant bags. "Momo-chan, be kind to him. He really is doing his best. Remember our first days together? You needed help figuring things out, just as I did. But look where we ended up, right?"
Of course, Yuzu wasn't really there, but at the moment all Momo could see was somebody whom she missed more than she wanted to admit. She hadn't even been off Zuikaku for more than a day and already felt like she was cracking at the seams.
She looked at Yuzu; to Aono, she was staring right at him. "I'm… having a difficult time here."
"Oh. Perhaps you should sit down? I know I'm taking a while, but we agreed to be sure of what we have before coming back, right?"
Momo slowly nodded her head, turned herself and robotically sat down on the bench, envisioning Yuzu carefully easing her down. She set the bags on either side of her, allowing herself to relax.
"There, there. See, it's not so bad. One step at a time, remember?" Said Yuzu with a comforting tone. "You really take too much on by yourself, Momo-chan. You don't need to do that; you're part of a team. A team relies on each member, right?"
Momo nodded her head again, feeling a tear welling under her monocle. Tension, just tension… Not homesick. Not homesick. Not…
"Are you feeling homesick, Momo? Because I am. I feel it all the time, especially when I'm in the States." Aono offered his sentiment as he popped open a container filled with steamed white rice.
I'm gonna murder this boy. Momo clenched a fist and her teeth as she silently informed the imaginary Yuzu of her intent.
"Aw, lighten up, will ya? Look at him trying to be a good worker-bee!"
In her other ear, Momo heard Anzu, and she turned her head to see a vision of her short, nimble, twin-tailed friend sitting casually on the table, munching away on a dried sweet potato. Carefree, reckless, and determined. Anzu Kadotani, President. The Prez…
Aono kept a smile on his face, feeling as though he was reaching Momo with his thoughtful questions as he put the container aside and inspected another. She was looking right at him, again. What he didn't know was that she wasn't seeing him at all – at least, when he wasn't speaking.
"This is just all so unfamiliar to me. How am I supposed to handle all this by myself?" Momo asked, her voice sounding hollow and lifeless.
" 'Yer not handing it by yourself. I mean really, we all take up each other's slack; the amount I gotta do because of Yuzu sometimes is plain ridiculous!" Anzu answered, crossing her legs and grinning.
"Actually, that's not true… It's usually the other way around." Yuzu replied with her unique brand of veiled annoyance. "But all the same, we have to rely on one another to make things work. We won't always get along, and things won't always be right but we complement each other's weaknesses. And that is what makes us strong, isn't it?"
It was then that Aono responded to Momo's question, having taken time to slowly confirm what was on the receipt. "I asked myself that same question when I started off at the academy in Oregon."
She stared at him blankly, not a muscle in her face moving.
"I wasn't ready for just how hard it would be." He continued. "Every day, waking up so early, having to run, run, run… lift this, march here, climb this. Shoot at that. 'That's your way, but that's not the army way! Okay, now sit down and read this when you only have ten minutes to yourself. Now sleep!' Get up, do it again. And again."
He shook his head in dismay, then laughed. "It was bad… It's still bad. I'm… bad at a lot of things, and I used to blame myself so much that I wanted to just… quit. Quit everything, quit life. But, after a while, I met up with Roman, joined the Panzerkraft team... That's where things finally came into perspective. I had to endure a lot just to get there. But he offered help, and even though I refused, he wouldn't let me. So, I had to swallow my pride, and I went for it. I thank him a lot for that."
"Is this another one of his artfully-crafted lies?" Momo silently asked her imaginary council members.
"Listen to him! Don't toss his words away so quickly." Yuzu scolded.
"He helped me to understand my role in everything – how important it was that I first take responsibility for myself, and do my job, but most of all, know who to lean on for support. And if I don't have anyone to help, I can carry them with me up here."
He pointed to his head. "I can remember what I was taught, and use that to fuel my resolve. Because without that help, I'd have nothing. But when I remember what brought me there, I have everything!"
Aono pushed his glasses up, the lenses shimmering for a moment before he held up the receipt, confirming with confidence, like he'd finished loading a round into a tank gun's breech. "Confirmed ready!"
Imaginary Anzu gave polite golf-claps. "Aww, who's a good boy? See, he's not totally worthless!"
Momo stared at the receipt, then at Aono. She then slowly stood back up, took a deep breath, and lowered her shoulders, releasing her tension. "Good… good work. I think we should get going, then."
She pulled out her phone and checked the time; they were riding dangerously close to text-in time, and had to get back to the train station on the double if they didn't want to risk missing their ride out of Hiroshima. She could only hope that they wouldn't run into any delays riding back on the metro.
Feeling tension mount again, and she looked back toward the table, expecting to see her friends; however, in that all-too-short period of time, they'd vanished back into her mind, leaving her alone again with Corporal Oono, who was loading himself down with the majority of the bags.
However, two text messages made her phone buzz in her hand, and she quickly pulled down the notifications; Yuzu and Anzu, seemingly at the same time, were texting her about something.
There was no time to read the messages. Momo could only take that moment in time as a type of divine gift, and she would hold on to it, using it to fuel her resolve, just as Aono had described to her.
"Alright, then. How good would you say you are at running without dropping everything, Oono?" She asked, picking up the remaining bags herself.
"Well, again, I'm bad at a lot of things… but I'll give it my all!" He replied with confidence, swaying slightly under the weight of all the food.
She nodded, steeling her nerves and conjuring up the same confidence she'd had while stomping the halls of Oarai, with Yuzu and Anzu marching beside her. "Let's go, let's go!"
[And team Blue has regained control of the ball! You know, it's really been a night of close calls, and we started off with Red leading Blue around by the nose in the first half, but Blue has managed to snatch victory from the jaws of Red time and time again. Deb, it's been an interesting season, and it's been a while since we've seen such aggressive movement out there. What's your take on that?]
[It's remarkable, Tom. And you know, when you look at it, Blue's had to make a lot of sacrifices this season, mainly because a lot of members from 3rd Cavalry, for one reason or another, have had to be traded out. Normally that means hardship that is difficult to negotiate. You've gotta hand it to their instructor and coach, Major Sharon Tally, who's really managed to make an impression, and… OH! DO YOU SEE THAT, THERE THEY GO! Blue Three has managed to outmaneuver the Red forwards, and they're zigzagging their way to the goal with Blue Four and Blue Five keeping the momentum! Could they make it?]
[If Blue Four and Blue Five can keep a tight formation with Blue Three, they should be able to outflank Red team long enough for Blue Three to make their shot. It's gonna be close! Red's doing their best to close in, but they're being headed off, one by one!]
The sounds of repeating machine-gun fire, mixed in with the voices of two announcers could be heard echoing down the hall as Roman made his way back toward the front of the café. A large flat-screen TV on the wall was connected wirelessly to a phone, which was in the hands of the little girl from earlier. She was practically hopping as she stared at the screen, transfixed on the match in front of her.
Just the same, the lady proprietor stood beside her, fists clenched in anticipation as they watched a cluster of M24 Chaffee tanks barreling around a large, rolling field of mud. What had once been a lush meadow had been smashed into oblivion by tank tracks repeatedly bearing down.
The tanks themselves had vivid streaks of paint dashed on their side skirts and turrets; some red, others blue. They made use of their machine guns, their cannons, their hulls and tracks to guide a carbon-netted ball toward a goal, where a StuG III G waited, training its cannon to intercept the ball's trajectory.
The two behind the counter weren't the only ones spectating; three young boys, several years younger than Roman, had entered the café and were also fixated on the match. Their eyes were like dinner plates, not sure what to make of this spectacle that resembled but was far from what they knew as Sensha-dō.
[One-hundred meters! Seventy-five, fifty, and there goes number three with the shot from the main cannon, but… DENIED! Brilliant recovery from the Red goalie, but what's this!?]
[A shot from Blue Five, way high in the air! They were ready for it! What a sharpshooter!]
One of the Chaffee tanks had come to a sudden halt while the other two surged ahead, one going for a goal shot. The StuG was able to take aim and blast the ball away from the goal, sending it careening through the air.
That was when the stationary vehicle took its shot, knocking the ball back down to earth, within meters of the goalposts.
[And it's gonna be close, the StuG is trying to reposition – I don't think they'll have time to reload. Blue Three is making a run for it… OHH! Intercepted and knocked sideways by Red Nine! Red Ten and Red one, where are they going!?]
[Looks like they're chasing Blue four, Tom… Here they go! Blue Four is moving with a left Shepherd's Hook, skidding in… GOAL! Right off the side skirts and over the roof of the StuG! What a play by Blue, tying our match with 7 and 7! And with that, judge's call: We're going into overtime!]
The room erupted in cheers, bringing a grin to Roman's face. He didn't think that a room of unfamiliar faces could find as much enjoyment in Tanker-Ball as he'd seen back home, but then again, it was one of the most dynamic games to come out in recent times.
By then, the owner of the café noticed him standing there. She held an unopened bottle of iced tea, which had become thoroughly shaken up during the excitement. "Oh, it's you! You didn't sell yourself short; that was quite a thrill!"
"What was that? Tankathlon?" One of the boys enthusiastically asked.
"No, no, that's no tankathlon. They only use lighter vehicles, right?" Another boy countered.
Roman winked, pointing with finger-guns at the owner. "Told you. Back home, all the leagues have gone nuts over it. It's an official discipline now."
"Wow! Were you in that match?" The little girl asked, almost literally starry-eyed.
On the screen, the commanders of the vehicles could be clearly seen in their tanks' respective cupolas, making calls while dodging debris and stray projectiles. Some were male, some female, all of them making gestures – some good-natured, some not so good. "Actually," replied, Roman, "I was the Blue goalie for that match. I know a number of those commanders, though. I had to watch through binoculars at that range, but that was one heck of a save."
"Really?! Did your team win?"
"I won't spoil it for you. Watch the rest of the match, it gets even better."
Placing the bottle into a plastic bag along with a few other items, the woman handed it over to him. "Well, then! I suppose that clears things up – I apologize, for earlier I had my doubts. It sounds like you have quite a good thing going on. I can't wait to see it come to the local leagues!"
The bag was heavy, and Roman peered inside. There was a total of four bottles of tea, as well as snacks and assorted candy. "Oh, this is-"
"On the house. Please think nothing of it."
All Roman could think to do was bow politely, although he felt a bit silly and didn't want to impose. Still, he didn't want to seem rude by refusing the gift. "I thank you, really. My team and I will enjoy it."
"Oh, must you leave so soon? I'd love to talk more with you about Sensha-dō. I have quite a few stories I could share with you."
He looked at his watch, and realized that there were only a few minutes left before text-in. His trip and video call had taken up much more time than he'd realized. "Actually, I can't. I have to catch the train to Kumamoto."
She understandably looked disappointed. "Kumamoto? Oh… That must mean you're going to Kuromorimine. They're a very well-respected school, trained in the Nishizumi style. That's going to be a very exciting match."
"Indeed. I'm looking forward to it, if all goes well."
"Now then, before you go, whom can I boast to my friends about, who introduced us to Tanker-Ball before anybody else?"
"Lieutenant Hunter. And who can I tell my crew was so generous to us?"
She beamed proudly. "I am Hiromi Ueda, and this is my daughter, Sachi Ueda. But when I was in Sensha-dō, my classmates knew me as Oolong. I commanded a Comet I."
"Oolong?" Roman thought about it, then snapped his fingers. "You were with St. Gloriana."
Hiromi placed a finger to her lips, a smile in her eyes. "You're rather knowledgeable. If in the future you do happen to come across any of St. Gloriana's, I trust that they will be just as welcoming. If not, just mention my name, and you'll be well taken care of."
With a grateful nod, Roman headed for the door. "Thank you again, Ms Ueda – Oolong-san. It was nice to meet you and your daughter… Say, you wouldn't happen to have batteries, would you? For a laptop?"
"You mean these?" Young Sachi asked, holding up a box for a backup battery bank – the type that could charge many devices multiple times.
"Yes, exactly! You're a lifesaver!" Roman answered excitedly.
The girl chucked the box at Roman like a football, and he nearly missed it, catching the box in the crook of his arm. "Hey, nice throw!"
Her mother was understandably ashen-faced at that point. "You… Wait, we can't just give those away!"
Laughing, he returned to the counter and handed a ¥5000 note to Oolong. "Keep the change. Thank you both, again. Hopefully we'll see each other very soon!"
"Good luck!" They both replied, waving.
He was soon out the door, barreling down the sidewalk like he were a Chaffee being pursued by Red team. He had a ways to go to get back to the train, but high spirits propelled him like wings under his feet as text messages began to flood his phone.
"Here we come, Kumamoto!"
