Part II: Mysteries

Whilst memories flourished in one part of the country, mysteries began in another.

Bang! Clang! Bang!

The sounds of metal against metal echoed loud and true throughout the facility. For the ones working within it was just like most days in their adult lives. Machinery in full swing, tools working about, it was like a symphony of mechanization to their ears. Simply put, this place was awash with life. Mechanically speaking.

Laid out in the workspace were three hydraulic lifts, all perfectly capable of lifting a moderately heavy automobile into the air. The people here certainly had their talents honed into one particular profession: automobiles. Whether you needed routine maintenance, custom work, or much needed repairing of damage, they could do just about anything your car needed or wanted.

Beneath one of the lifts, someone was busy with fine tuning the axles. Well tanned skin, cropped brown hair down to the shoulders, and still only partially wearing the coveralls, Keiko Hoshino was a force to be reckoned with in the workshop. Not the most talkative, but she knew her trade like the back of her hand.

Raked with beads of sweat from laboring, she took a quick breather before getting back to it. In need of a new tool, she reached into her nearby toolbox-only to realize it wasn't there. Oh right, she left it on the other side of the shop.

"Hey Nakajima-san, toss me that spanner!" she called out.

Another girl rolled out on a mechanic's creeper from under someone's Mitsubishi. Short brown hair and a set of coveralls actually worn correctly, this was the place's "boss" by all technicalities. Rera Nakajima, less brawn but all brain.

"Here!" Nakajima picked up the requested item from one of the bright red tool cabinets, and without hesitation sent it on its way with a hard throw. Up it went in a beautiful parabolic arc over all three hydraulic lifts, and snatched at the end by Hoshino. A perfect one-handed catch as usual.

"Arigato!" came the reply back the other way. Hurdle cleared, back to work.

Of course, the history runs much deeper than just handing over some equipment. Nakajima had once been in charge of more than routine fulfillment orders and the occasional extravagant request. At one point in the past, she was best known as the commander of Leopon team. Hard working and steadfast, they were the ones that kept Oarai's tanks in running order. Names like Nakajima, Tsuchiya, Suzuki, and Hoshino would be like household knowledge in the tank sheds. They even went so far as to resurrect an old Porsche Tiger prototype deep from the bowels of their schoolship Zuikaku.

So many had written off their tank as a failed design, yet if there's one thing Leopon could do, it was making that "failure" do the mechanically insane. Add an EPS function to an experimental 1940s petrol-electric engine? No problem. Making emergency repairs whilst on the move in an active combat area? Nakajima could do that with a simple toolbox. Being able to bring long disused tanks up to running condition? A few days is all you'd need. Simple truth, Oarai's tanks would be going nowhere without the invaluable elbow grease poured in by Leopon team.

Crazy to think those days were a decade ago, and even now they hadn't changed much of an iota. They didn't have to. These girls, through thick and thin, wouldn't have thought of anything lowly about this profession they were dug into. They loved it to bits. They'd been at it for a good number of years, and they'd keep going at it for another 50 if they wanted to.

Today was no less mundane than any day before it. Still busy as ever, they probably hadn't had time to look at the notification on their phones regarding Miho's reunion with an old friend earlier in the morning. Of course, that was then and this was now as there was a special order on the cusp of completion.

For better or worse, the client in question had wanted so many bells and whistles shoehorned into a junky Toyota A80 Supra from the 1990s. An uprated 6 cylinder engine at 1000 horsepower, new suspension and seats, custom front end, a great hoofing spoiler, and other such fun things. Oh, and don't forget an upgraded internal audio system for this person's delirious desire for debauchery, but these girls did their work diligently without questioning too much. What took half a day only felt like minutes for them, and when all was said and done only then could they finally appreciate their handiwork.

The final product looked good as new. With flashes of bright red and white accents, it was another fine piece of mechanized art to add to the growing list.

It was about this moment that a new person entered the fray. His meager moped came to a halt, and the large storage container bolted on it opened. Oh, who could it be-nope, nevermind. It was just the elderly local postman on this side of Ibaraki prefecture.

"Hello? Anyone here?" the postman asked, his eyes poking around for any possible recipient.

"I am!" A voice came back to greet him. Getting out from under a DC3 Integra, one Maria Suzuki took up the request. Even more tan than Hoshino and with hair resembling a mop, she was no less talented or as diligent as the rest.

The postman offered a kind smile before pulling out some paperwork on a clipboard. "Good day to you Miss, please sign here." Suzuki quickly wrote off the required documents, and he went back to his moped. This was a completely routine event at this point: postman drops parts off, no surprises here. Except this time what she saw when he came back around to the open doors wasn't ordinary.

THUD.

Plopped right in front of her, a large package that the poor man somehow strapped onto his little two wheeled transport, and then had the misfortune of hauling it over to its place on the floor.

"Here's your…shipment…have a good day." Suzuki winced a bit watching him get back on his moped. He was definitely winded from whatever this was.

"Thank you!" she called out as he gave a wave before revving up and taking off down the road. In the midst of the whole interaction, the other girls had overheard what was going on and stopped their work temporarily.

"Suzuki-san, what is it?" Tsuchiya asked as they gathered around this mystery.

"What could this be?" Nakajima curiously picked it up, clearly not having seen what happened to the postman. Ended as well as one might expect. "Nrgh! Nevermind." She hastily set it back down.

They gave the package a good hard look, eyeing it with a multitude of emotion. Judging from the multitude of clearance labels plastered all over the box, it certainly wasn't the average local delivery. Something was up.

Tsuchiya furiously ruffled through her hair. "I don't know, it's not like any others we get."

"Well, let's get to the bottom of this." Hoshino had procured a box cutter from one of the cabinets, and with one quick strike that would've made longtime friend Hana impressed, cut clean through the top tape strip.

Inside was...bubble wrap. Lots of the stuff. Cautiously, Nakajima removed a layer, and then another. Eventually, nothing was left to conceal the mysterious contents. What was it? Well, surprising to be sure but very welcoming nonetheless. New parts consisting of the highest quality alloys money could afford, and the kind of stuff that car enthusiasts could drool over. It was just what they needed for current projects and future ones too. That sad Subaru 3000GT lying in the back of the shop could finally have new life breathed into it, and to transform it into the true thoroughbred it was meant to be.

It wasn't over yet, though. The final part to this mystery lay neatly folded at the very bottom. Nakajima took the initiative to reveal it to the rest. Perhaps news on the Dacia Sandero reaching the Japanese market? Or maybe a Formula One champion that isn't named Vettel, Hamilton, or Verstappen? No, instead came a long winded, handwritten piece of parchment tagging alongside the receipt. Not a trace of yen currency

"A letter?" Suzuki asked curiously.

"Well, read it. What does it say?" Tsuchiya said, encouraging Nakajima to read it aloud. Thus it went:

Dear Nakajima, Hoshino, Suzuki, and Tsuchiya,

Greetings to you, diligent and unmistakably talented friends! It certainly has been a while since our last contact with you, and we do sincerely apologize for the gap in time.

We received your message a few weeks back that you might have a need for certain automotive components, and it is unfortunate that these high quality demands are manufactured outside your country. But please, don't fret! We believe we have the parts you're looking for. Did cost us a hefty sum to acquire and ship it all, but we're confident it's worth the wait.

Here's to our friendship of ten years, and best hopes we can enjoy another ten for the future.

Sincerely,

Your friends from afar

P.S. Our lead man sends his best regards to the one he thinks of everyday. We're sure you know who.

They could only scarcely believe it.

It struck a little closer to one of the girls as she knew exactly who had written this letter. It was that time ago she had found the perfect workaholic to compliment her expertise. An intelligent yet goofy partner, they worked together about as well as salt and pepper. Not bad if you asked them. Even better, she quickly remembered he was scheduled to arrive back in Japan next month! If things were already looking up beforehand, well they were certainly that little bit higher now.

Regardless, those same guys they had worked with all those years ago were still offering their helping hand. Even if great distances separated them, the volume of their friendship struck true. Physically separate, but emotionally close. For these four talented ladies, an enigma of a package resolved.

Perhaps mysteries are the greatest blessings life can offer. There's always a good reason for one.

AN: Well, this is it! The last of my two parter commemorating Girls und Panzer's 10th Anniversary. It's short, but that's about the point of it. Thank you for reading to the end if you chose to, and if not…well, thanks for stopping by anyway!