Their fellow students called Chiyo Shimada "the Princess", or "the Devil on the Centurion". One day in the near future, they would also call her "Head of the Shimada Family".

Shiho called her a bitch.

In private and under her breath of course. It would not do for those that fawned over her to hear that, as much as they annoyed her. She was the heir of the Nishizumi Family after all, and she had expectations and an image she had to uphold.

Cursing and swearing? That was beneath them.

Or supposed to be, anyway.

So, Shiho bit her tongue to stop the slew of curses from escaping her mouth as a high explosive round whistled past her, mere feet away from her tank, exploding somewhere behind her.

The radio static hissed as they received the transmission.

"Sorry Shiporin~" A melodious voice called out, cutting through the heavy grumble of their engines.

Shiho could see her smug, pretty face, and her mischievous smile as she delivered her not-an-apology.

And with another buzz of static, the transmission ended.

Chiyo loved to provoke her; when changing, in the dormitories, during club duties. Unbecoming of a Family Heir, as Shiho admonished her countless times, but the Shimada laughed it off every time, in her sing-song voice.

But on the sacred field of Senshado? This was a new low, even for the Princess. That was no accident, she was too skilled for that, as much as Shiho loathe to admit it. Had she no shame?

Her insult would not go unanswered.

"Takayama-san. Please ram that Centurion."

"… Nishizumi-san?"

"Shimada-san's Centurion. Please ram it."

"… Nishizumi-san?!" The girl questioned again, with more panic in her voice.

"Did you mishear me?"

The girl withered under her gaze, and did as commanded.

At some point, the radio transmission turned back on, and it was music to Shiho's ears to hear Chiyo's high-pitched screams that preceded and followed the satisfying crunch that was the sound of impact.


"Utterly irresponsible!", "A disgrace to your families and the sport!", and "I expected better from both of you!" were all phrases thrown at the two of them as they bowed in apology in front of the Team Supervisor.

Being reprimanded was a novel feeling for Shiho. It wasn't a pleasant experience, but if nothing else, that was something she could check off her bucket list.

The Supervisor crossed her arms and huffed, ending her tirade. "It's a first for either of you, so I'll let you off with a warning. But I expect going forward that this will never happen again."

"Yes Ma'am." They droned out in unison.

"Good." She turned around and sat down behind her desk. "You are dismissed Nishizumi-san, Shimada-san."

They had walked maybe two dozen paces from the office of the Supervisor of the All-Stars University Team before Chiyo started giggling.

Shiho raised an eyebrow in annoyance. "What." The question came out as more of a demand.

"Shiporinnnnnn~" The other woman flung herself at her, hugging her midriff.

A growl escaped from her throat. "Get off."

"That was soooo scary," she laughed. "I think I need to be comforted Shiporin! Will you buy me dinner at the new Ristorante by the port? I know you're free until tomorrow." She asked with the demeanour of a spoilt girl. Shiho questioned if this woman was really a university student at one of Japan's top universities; the Senshado prodigy that qualified for the All-Stars University Team.

"No."

At her refusal, the other woman made a soft whining noise. Shiho rubbed her temples. Was this really how the Shimada Family taught their scions? To behave little better than spoilt, tempestuous children that relied on nought more than natural talent and charisma to navigate through life; leeches and seductresses?

Gods above as her witness, she hated Chiyo Shimada.


Shiho Nishizumi hated Chiyo Shimada.

They were fundamentally opposed, just like their family doctrines. Where Nishizumis were to present a hard unyielding front of steel and strength, Shimadas would be slipping back and forth, disappearing like the wind, then reappearing to strike from the shadows. Nishizumis were traditionalists to an extreme, even she was aware of that. Shimadas were the face of the "new" and "novel" way of Senshado. There could be no peace between them. Only spite and hate.

Nonetheless, the object of her hate was the one next to her.

To be precise, half draped over her. The both of them, sweaty and utterly exhausted.

And naked. A fact Shiho was far too aware of as their bodies pressed against each other.

The Shimada looked so peaceful. Without knowing her, Shiho might've mistaken her for a decent woman, rather than the she-devil that caused Shiho to throw all logic and self-control out the window with her enchanting smiles and playful eyes, whose moans and begging made Shiho respond fervently with her own.

Her hair was sinfully soft, she quietly envied, as she absent-mindedly brushed stray strands out of her sleeping lover's face. Just like the rest of her. A softness that hid the woman beneath who was anything but.

"My, my, Shiporin." Chiyo drawled. She bristled instinctively at the sound of her voice. "If someone were to walk in on us like this, they might think we're a married couple."

"As if."

Chiyo gave a brief sigh when she saw her teasing didn't elicit the response she hoped. She shifted her body slightly, so that her head rested in the crook of Shiho's neck. She was very warm, Shiho noted.

"I really love the taste of your rose lipstick. You must tell me where you brought it from."

Shiho rolled her eyes.

"I'd prefer if you didn't try to lick it off me every time like a child every time we kiss."

Her body tensed up as she felt Chiyo's hand gently teasing her breast.

"We can't," she said, seizing the offending appendage in its tracks. "I have to prepare for the journey back to meet my mother." She found herself scowling unconsciously at the thought.

Chiyo gave a wistful sigh, as if to shrug in defeat. Part of Shiho wished she'd fight for her to stay, as she usually did, tempting her to desert her duty with promises of love and lust.

"I wish we could stay like this forever, Shiporin~"

Shiho hated Chiyo Shimada.

But that didn't mean she wanted to be separated from the woman. Ever.

"Me too… Chiyokichi."

"Mouuuu! You do care!" Chiyo said, nuzzling her head in the crook of Shiho's neck.

Yes, she did care.


Of course, the life of a Family Heir was no fairy-tail, never mind the lives of two born in such positions. Her mother was already being far more lenient than she had expected, allowing her to choose her own husband, as long as it was in good time. Her grandmother had chosen her mother's husband, Shiho's own father, for her, without her consultation, informing her she was to be married on her twenty-first birthday, with a mere two months' warning.

Staying with the Shimada heir as quasi-not-legally-wives in a faux marriage, with no hope of producing an heiress to not just one Family line, but two? Shiho didn't even need to ask.

Tsuneo was a perfectly normal man. Some might say he was even something of a catch; handsome, amicable, reliable, with a steady job –not that they'd need to live on his salary once they were married– that he was passionate for.

A job that succinctly complemented her own profession she might add.

The guilt gnawed at her every time he smiled at her, his joy reminding her of the time his face lighted up with a smile fiercer than a Tiger tank when she said "Yes" to his proposal.

Perhaps in time, she'd learn to love him. She owed him that, at least.

But for now, her heart belonged to Chiyo Shimada. Chiyo Shimada, with whom she cheated on her fiancée in forbidden trysts, and Chiyo Shimada, who she loves.

Chiyo Shimada, whose absence she was distinctly aware of even as she stood up at the altar.

She was supposed to be here.

So why wasn't she here?

The priest had begun reciting his words, but all Shiho could think about was the single empty chair in the front row. The other woman had promised her. Promised Shiho come heaven or hell she'd be here for her.

So why was there not even a trace of Chiyo Shimada?

The wedding bells thundered as they broke her out of her thoughts, and Tsuneo leaned forwards to kiss her. Shiho mirrored him, tasting the wet press of his rough lips.

'They weren't Chiyo's,' was all she could think.

The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth as she threw up a forced smile for the cheering crowds.


It had been many years since she had contact with Chiyo Shimada. She heard about her, sure. She'd have preferred to erase all trace of the woman from her life, but the Senshado world was too small for the luxury. Shiho just ignored all mention of the woman that she could. The Shimada certainly never contacted her.

Shiho actively avoided thinking about her former paramour. She was the proud mother of two girls, and the wife of a loving husband in Tsuneo Nishizumi.

Maho and Miho didn't deserve her split attention. Shiho's thoughts were to be only for her family, no one else.

It was at a Federation conference that their paths crossed once more.

"Mama, who's that?" Miho tugged her sleeve, pointing across the room.

Shiho followed her younger daughter's gaze.

"That's… "

Her voice died in her throat.

The ghost from her memories that haunted her dreams and plagued her thoughts stood mere meters away, as radiant as ever, in her ever-consistent wine-red suit and dress combination.

Hand-in-hand with a small toddler; a girl, sporting the signature Shimada hair, wearing a shirt with that bear Miho liked.

There was no mistake. This was that woman's daughter.

The devil spotted them, and with nothing more than an alluring smile, reached out, grasped Shiho's heart, and squeezed.

Shiho took a deep breath, and pulled herself together.

"That's no one Miho. Let's go, girls." She snapped.

She ignored Miho as she tugged away towards the other girl. Towards her.

Maybe one day, she'd have the courage to face the ghost.

But not with the girls. Not today.


It had been almost two decades now.

There was no avoiding the woman forever. But so long as she continued to treat what necessary correspondence they had with strict professionalism, Shiho could make her peace.

Shiho would never ask 'Why?'.

Why? Her pride would not allow it, and neither did the Head of the Shimada Family oblige.

But that was in the past. Old ghosts will have to rest in their graves quietly.

Over the years, both her daughters had grown into strong, young women. Miho had always been less enthusiastic, more unsure, but she was adequate enough. She had proven that aplenty during the Championship. A perversion of the Nishizumi style, but a perversion that triumphed over Kuromorimine. Shiho could not dispute the effectiveness of whatever methods accomplished such a feat.

She regretted that she could not play the loving mother that Miho needed, but such was tradition. She would not cast away duty for her own selfish needs, not even for her daughters.

Maho however. Maho; her joy and pride.

She exemplified the very essence of the Family's style. A girl that absorbed everything she had to teach with ease. A woman Shiho was proud to call her daughter and heiress.

An heiress who she could entrust everything to, and rest in peace knowing that she'd continue as head of the Nishizumi family.

So, she trusted Maho, and ignored her instincts as they screamed at her, as she handed back the rose lipstick that dropped from Maho's schoolbag.

She was just at that age, she reassured herself. She played with Shiho's cosmetics all the time when she was younger, with Miho.

Yes, she was merely growing up.


Her daughters' rooms were very peculiar, she noted as she drifted through the Nishizumi house aimlessly after a long day of work. The girls were both away at school for the term. It seemed like it was just yesterday when she was still bathing with them and playing with them on the floor.

Miho's room was bedecked from top to bottom with 'Boko' memorabilia; dozens of stuffed bears, pictures, posters, and notepads all with the battle-worn bear.

She'd never understand her youngest's obsession, but the bear reminded her of herself, she chuckled. They had both seen and lived through much, though her battles were real.

Maho's room was the opposite. Plain, austere, minimally decorated.

Almost a mirror image of Shiho's own. When she was younger.

So alike in fact, that she could feel overwhelming waves of nostalgia wash over her as she sat at her daughter's desk.

And it was nostalgia that distracted her as she absent-mindedly sifted through a stack of neatly filed documents, until a photo slipped out right in front of her. She picked it up, and looked.

Her heart stopped for a second.

Then she dropped the picture, and ran.


The silence was deafening.

At one time, Shiho would've been confident enough to announce that Maho was the same as her, that she'd be able to tell her daughter's thoughts without a shadow of a doubt.

But it turned out she was toosimilar. Too much familiarity rendered her eldest an enigma once more.

An enigma that threatened to tear all Shiho knew asunder.

Shiho felt her gaze on her. What did the girl feel right now? Shame? Guilt? Defeat? Bitterness? Resignation?

Shiho couldn't bear to look her in the eye to find out. It was all she could do, for now, to rest her elbows on her desk and look down, while her heiress stood at attention on the other side of the room. The air itself was hostile to her; as if she were an intruder, here, in her own office.

It was the daughter that broke the silent stalemate.

"I know why you called me here, mother. I know you saw the picture."

"And?" 'What are you going to do now?' was the silent question she didn't ask.

"I have nothing to hide. I am free to love whoever I want."

"Love?" She hears a slam echo in the office. She looks down, and realises it's her; two balled up fists on the hardwood table. She had apparently stood up as well, as she now towered over her daughter.

"Love?" She asked again, the word sounding hollower each time she said it.

"Yes, mother. Love. And you can't stop me." Her daughter meets her gaze directly. Shiho sees a mirror. Weariness. Fatigue. Exhaustion masked by a facade of defiance.

What did that woman doto her?

"And there was no one else you could've loved?" A small part of her dared hope; hope that thatwomanhadn't sunk her claws into her daughter too deep yet. Hope that divine intervention from whichever God that may have heard her errant prayers might deliver her yet.

"Why are you doing this mother?" Maho evaded the question.

"Because I know her! That woman knows not love! She's using you! She will toy with you, and break you into a thousand little pieces until there is nothing left!" Shiho took a halting breath. It surprises her how each word became progressively more laborious to say, and how much tired rage wells in her chest; feelings of frustration and betrayal, built up over the years.

"She's not the enemy. You don't know her as I do, mother! She never meant to hurt us!" Maho was shouting back now, against the mother who she never so much as uttered a word against before.

"You're my heiress Maho. You can't do this. That she-devil will destroy everything you are." She pleaded.

"Like you already destroyed Miho and I?" The words hung in the air for a pregnant second as Shiho felt like her daughter just slid a knife into her heart, then twisted.

"Get out! GET OUT NOW!"

Her daughter turned as she left, "Chiyo was right. You are just a bitter, old woman."

Shiho whispered as she left: "She'll leave you too."