Shiho 11: Passing the Torch

Dinner was nearing its end. The seven at the table had finished their meals, and waited for the check. Masae, while realizing that she had heard almost all there was to hear about Shiho, waited for one final piece of information about her.

"Correct me if I am wrong, Instructor Atago," Shiho said, "but do you believe that I am willing to cast out any member of my family who does not meet my standards because I have not experienced loss myself?"

"No, Instructor Nishizumi," Masae said. "In fact, I know that you have experienced loss yourself, having read about your mother's death. The news media and tankery magazines reported on the former Instructor Nishizumi's passing."

Shiho nodded, slightly taken off guard by Masae's refusal to make the assumption, even if the information that disproved it was public knowledge.

"Everyone here likely is already aware of this, but I will say it again, for your benefit and to share my perspective," Shiho said. "My mother's health had been declining in the years before her death, so I gradually took over the responsibilities of the school in her stead. Starting ten years ago, I was head of the school, although my mother served as an advisory role until four years ago. Once my mother knew I was able to handle the responsibility, and that she was no longer able to do so, she made it official."

"Ah, yes, I recall your mother being involved to some degree," Masae said. "It's understandable that, having given so much of herself to her family's school, she would continue to watch over its development.'

"Yes, but unfortunately, before long, Mother's condition deteriorated further," Shiho said. "She was hospitalized and it was clear that the doctors could do little for her."

Four years ago

Shiho's mother lay in her hospital bed, and heard Shiho, at her bedside, recounting the state of the Nishizumi School's affairs. The proud and determined woman had lost a considerable amount of weight, and no longer had the same intimidating presence that she once did.

Hotaru nodded as her daughter reported on what she was doing for the school. She did not, at any point in Shiho's life, give praise easily, but Shiho noticed that her mother usually had more to say about her performance as a tanker and a teacher than she did on her hospital bed.

Shiho had to wonder; had she truly taken up the mantle of the Nishizumi school well enough to be worthy of her mother, or did her mother no longer have the energy to criticize her? That moment of doubt soon passed away, but did not permanently disappear, as Shiho's mother had repeatedly made clear that she was happy with Shiho's progress, but never had told Shiho that she had no more room to improve.

"Is that so?" Hotaru said after a pause. "That is good to hear, Shiho, but it seems as though you do not need to consult with me any longer."

"That's not the only reason I came here today, Mother," Shiho said. "I was hoping to be able to see you... while I still could."

"I understand," Hotaru said. "There is some value in coming to see me and talk with me, for matters relating to the school and otherwise while you still have the option."

Both Shiho and Hotaru knew that Hotaru did not have much time left to live, but considered open discussion about it superfluous. Hotaru passing on in the near future was essentially inevitable, and if they could do nothing about it, there was little point discussing it. The Nishizumi school was the thing that both mother and daughter considered important, and if it was in good hands under Shiho's leadership, Hotaru believed that it was best left to her.

Shiho looked at her watch, and realized how late it was. She did have a great deal of work to do, but whenever she left the hospital, she always felt a sense of hesitation. In spite of that, she, once again, believed that this emotion was a mere impediment to doing what she must, and so chose to take her leave.

"I must be going, Mother," Shiho said. "I have to prepare for tomorrow's lesson."

"Then you should be on your way," Hotaru said. "It was good seeing you, but nothing would please me more than if you carry on my school and watch over it well."

"Then that is what I will do, Mother," Shiho said. "You've always prepared me for this responsibility, for the day when you would end up passing the torch to me."

Hotaru gave a satisfied smile, a rare expression for her that was nevertheless extremely fulfilling to those who had earned it.

"Then I've done what I was born to do, Shiho," Hotaru said. "I've lived a good life, devoting myself to upholding the Nishizumi style, and raising my daughter to do the same. You've upheld the good name of the Nishizumi school, taught well and raised Maho to be a fine heiress. I have no regrets, and am proud of the mother, the teacher and the tanker you have become."

"Thank you, Mother," Shiho said. "Thank you for everything."

Shiho bowed and walked out of the hospital room, taking one last glance at her mother before leaving. She did not make the decision to leave lightly, especially not when she suspected the possibility that her mother might not be there for her next time.

Her suspicions proved correct.

Present day

"In the Nishizumi style, no one is irreplaceable, not even the heads of the school themselves," Shiho said. "My mother, my grandmother and I devoted ourselves to something larger than ourselves, something that would continue on even after we passed on. That's why my mother, even though she was no longer a teacher, and her life was nearly over, was thinking first and foremost about the Nishizumi style. She served the Nishizumi school well after retiring, and all the way until the end."

Masae simply nodded. While she had set out to establish a very different tankery school than Shiho did, and knew that Hiroe's training as an heiress was very different from Shiho and Maho's, she had not yet passed it down, seen how her successor would run the school, or considered how many people whom she would never meet would do it.

Hiroe, in spite of her antipathy for Shiho, had gone quiet since the start of the story, and looked on with a somber expression. Her grandmother was still alive, although she was no longer able to attend tankery matches live and would likely pass on within a few years. Her mother was in good health, but Hiroe, for all her pride and confidence, did not believe herself ready.

"I'm not ready to say goodbye to Mom or Grandma just yet, any more I was when Grandpa passed away three years ago," Hiroe thought, eying Shiho with an honestly sympathetic expression. "I guess you felt the same way too, Instructor Nishizumi."

Slightly surprised by Hiroe's expression, Shiho paused for a moment before resuming.

"That was the last time I saw my mother in the hospital," Shiho said. "Even then, I knew that she was essentially saying goodbye to me. Soon afterward, I got the news of her passing."

Four years ago

The morning after Shiho's last hospital visit, Shiho was sitting on her office, doing some paperwork when Kikuyo approached, with the cordless phone.

"Mistress," Kikuyo said, "There's a phone call from the hospital. They... said it was important."

Shiho was still adjusting to being called "Mistress." Not only was it different from Kikuyo's typically addressing her as "Instructor Nishizumi," but it was different from most of the servants, who had called her "Shiho-sama" until she had recently assumed the mantle of head of the household.

But a part of her realized that the servants had to do as they were told, as they always did. The only difference was that they no longer had to worry about going against their mistress' orders by doing so, because Shiho was now the mistress, and whatever she said went. So when a call came for Shiho, Kikuyo did her duty and got the caller in touch with her mistress.

"Thank you, Kikuyo," Shiho said, as Kikuyo handed her the phone. "Please leave; I would like some privacy given the nature of this call."

Kikuyo complied. While bowing, she handed the phone to Shiho, took her leave and shut the door behind her.

"Hello, this is Nishizumi Shiho, head instructor of the Nishizumi School," Shiho said into the receiver of the phone.

"Nishizumi-san?" the man on the other end said. "My name is Dr. Kamiya Yusuke, and I believe I spoke with you before. I have some news regarding your mother. Last night, she passed away in her sleep. I offer you my most sincere condolences."

Shiho was overwhelmed with shock, and had difficulty understanding why. She had known, ever since her mother was hospitalized, that it would only be a matter of time before her mother passed away.

But Shiho wanted her mother around for several reasons. Even if her mother had suggested that she would no longer be able to head the Nishizumi school even if she recovered, she hoped her mother would be able to see her lead the school for many years to come. She wanted her mother to see that the school was in good hands, and be proud of her, in her own way.

Tears fell from Shiho's eyes, much to her dismay. Shows of emotion were always a sign of vulnerability for Shiho, as emotion could compromise one's rational judgments. As such,she was slightly comforted to realize that, with the servants sent away and Miho and Maho at school, no one would see them. It thus followed that she did not tell anyone of how she had reacted… until years later, when telling her story to one of her former rivals, as well as both of their children.

Present day

The six others at the table, including Shiho's two daughters, were surprised by the emotional display that Shiho had just admitted to, and remained speechless.

"I never realized Grandmother's passing was this hard on you, Mother..." Maho thought. Glancing at her sister, Maho realized that Miho felt the same way.

"Are you surprised?" Shiho said, pausing slightly, but not long enough for the others to give an answer. "I thought you would be. People assume that I am heartless, and I make no excuses for my ruthless decisions save for my belief that they are successful and for the good of my school. But I am not without emotions, or feelings for those close to me, even if I try to not let them influence my decisions."

"You might not believe this, Instructor Nishizumi," Hiroe said, " but I never made those assumptions. In spite of that, I believe there's a difference between my mom not giving special treatment to Aunt Masaki and I- which is her being fair- and your being able to cut off Miho without feeling any remorse. In times like the latter situation, I kind of wish that your emotions would come into play."

Masae nodded.

"Emotions can cloud our judgment, but if we listen to them, they can help us keep in touch with what matters," Masae said. "That you felt grief over your mother's passing is proof that she was important to you, and there's no shame in that. And if you ever felt hesitant or conflicted about your decisions, it's a sign that there were reasons not to make that choice, and maybe, just maybe, you were making a mistake."

Shiho looked at Masae skeptically. She believed there was some truth to Masae's statement, but that she was missing the point.

"To clarify, the Nishizumi creed says that we advance without hindrance from our emotions, and we must not let our feelings prevent us from doing what is necessary to win," Shiho said. "As always, anything that does not serve its purpose must be discarded. It's that simple."

An uncomfortable expression spread across Kinue's face, as even more uncomfortable thoughts entered her mind.

"I haven't always been a tanker," Kinue thought. "The same can be said for Hiroko, and Aunt Masaki retired after high school. So how would the three of us fit into a family like the Nishizumis if we didn't advance the family's plan? I know all too well what the answer would be, and that Miho-chan and Maho-san have never had the luxury of being able to avoid thinking about that question."

"As her health declined, my mother knew that she would not be able to fulfill her responsibilities for much longer, which is why she passed on the school to me near the end of her life," Shiho said. "And I realized that, as much as I hoped otherwise, and as much as I wanted to honor my mother's last wishes, and further the mission to which she had dedicated her entire life, I would not be up to the task of teaching while I was still grieving."

Maho nodded. Neither she nor Miho had known their grandmother very well, and both believed that Hotaru seemed mainly concerned with how her granddaughters were doing in tankery, but they still grieved over her passing, knowing that their grandmother could not become anything more than what she was.

"Yes, I know," Masae said, "and as much as I disagree with your principles, I can respect that."

"My mother's funeral was held a little over a week after I got the phone call about her passing," Shiho said. "Despite the shot notice, it was quite well attended."

Four years ago

Shiho, clad in a black kimono, looked around the graveyard at all the people who had come to pay their final respects to her mother.

Many of Hotaru's students had come. Ami wore her dress uniform, Takako wore a dark suit, and Kikuyo wore a dark kimono. They were dressed not unlike how they usually did for a day at work, and they owed Shiho and her mother a debt of gratitude for their careers.

The headmistress of Black Forest arrived, clad in a dark business suit. A few people mistakenly believed that Shiho was also headmistress of Black Forest, but this belief, while false, was not far from the truth. The headmistress and Hotaru had a great deal of professional respect for each other, the two often kept in touch, and Hotaru could typically be found at alumni events.

Hotaru's husband and parents were absent, having preceded her in death since Shiho was young. Hotaru raising her alone was no small task, and Shiho was all the more respectful of and grateful to her for it.

Not everyone who wished to attend could do so, and Shiho was well aware that many people had their own obligations. Miho, Maho and Homura had to make arrangements of their own to free up their schedules to take a personal day, but not everyone could or would do the same. Many other people had been unable to come in person, including some Nishizumi school alumni who had responsibilities of their own, but they expressed condolences in their own way.

And yet, all of those who had came were those who were close to Hotaru in some way, whether her friends, her colleagues, her students, her subordinates or her children. They were all people who had been benefited by the Nishizumi school, the organization to which Hotaru had devoted her life. They had succeeded according to their standards, and the Nishizumi school as proud to have played a part in shaping their development.

Shiho's expression turned determined as she looked at her mother's portrait, as she had cried all the tears she wished to shed. Her mother had lived a good life, one that had touched many people, and Shiho hoped to do the same.

Present day

"One of my mother's critics, who undoubtedly thought herself very witty at the time, said that because of her distance from others and ruthlessness, no one would end up coming to her funeral," Shiho said. "That person could not have been more wrong."

"You know, Instructor Nishizumi," Hiroe said, "At Pravda, I spend a lot of time around people who really dislike the Nishizumi school, and I actually haven't heard anything like that much at all. The people around there see the Nishizumi school and its supporters as a flock of mindless sheep, with Miho as something of a 'black sheep', so it's not much of a task to 'herd' them to the funeral of their shepherd."

"Interesting," Shiho said. "It seems the Nishizumi school's critics are not all of one mind."

"Neither are your students," Hiroe said with the slightest hint of smugness in her voice. "I've recently learned from Mom that not everyone necessarily agrees with you on a variety of issues. Isn't that right, Maho?"

Maho simply nodded, believing nothing more needed to be added to Hiroe's question.

"To be honest, I'm not against my students and children sharing their experiences, providing that they mind what they say," Shiho said. "Doing so does help dispel misconceptions like the one I just described, and the ones you described."

"I see," Masae said. "The one question I had that your students weren't able to answer was whether the Nishizumi school has lost sight of its original purpose."

Shiho, after a pause, shook her head.

"My life has been devoted to upholding its principles, just like my mother's has," Shiho said. "I continue to watch over the school and teach my style because my mother did, and so that my eldest daughter will be able to do so in the future."

Four years ago

Shiho sat at her desk, the day after her mother's funeral, and it was gradually dawning on her what responsibilities she had inherited.

"Instructor Nishizumi," one of her assistants said, "I have applications for the school, here for your review."

"Thank you," Shiho said. "I will review them and send them back once I have made my decision."

As Shiho's assistant left, Shiho realized she could no longer delegate the task to her mother, or even ask her for her advice. She was "Instructor Nishizumi" now, rather than her assistant, and the decisions, and the responsibility for the consequences, were entirely on her now. But Shiho realized that she had often been entrusted with great responsibility in the past, so this was nothing new- the only change was that she was now using that authority as head of the Nishizumi school.

Shiho looked through the applications, another familiar task to her. The first's application seemed to be a standard copy-and-paste one that showed little creativity or initiative. While Shiho expected obedience from her students, she did not want them to go with the flow, but to charge forward with everyone else. If they obeyed, it should be because they knew that it was best to trust their leaders, not because they needed people to tell them what to do.

The second was by someone who seemed to have a passing interest in tankery, and wanted to study with the best. Shiho was tempted to sardonically tell the girl's parents to have her move to Hokkaido and study with the Atagos if they were that half-hearted about it, but realized that the best move was to send a politely but firmly worded form letter saying that she had been rejected.

After finding another applicant whose initiative in studying tankery impressed her, Shiho worked through the pile, sorting the applications into those she would reject, and those who would be accepted. Having finished, Shiho realized that she would likely get some angry phone calls from the ones who were rejected, but resolved to stand firm. Everyone was looking to her as an inspiration, so she could not falter or let them down. And as she had prepared her entire life for this, just like her mother had, she knew that she would not do either.

Finishing her work, Shiho glanced at a photo of herself with her husband and daughters. It was the only personal indulgence she allowed herself in her office, and it was there in large part because her daughters would one day be the school's future. For the sake of all those in the past who had made the Nishizumi school who it was, those she was training, and those who would one day teach at or learn from the school, she would devote herself to upholding and preserving the Nishizumi style.

Present day

"My mother knew this day would come," Shiho said. "She knew that there would be a day when she would no longer be able to lead the Nishizumi school. She therefore had two jobs- to maintain the Nishizumi School in the present, and preserve it for the future, which I have now inherited. I now train my students, while preparing Maho to take up my responsibilities once I can no longer do so."

Shiho paused.

"That's more or less the entire story," Shiho said. "You seem fairly well informed about my decisions with regards to Miho and Maho, up to and including threatening to disown Miho. As such, I will not say any more about them, save that they are as you heard and that I make no apologies for them. But make no mistake- I have my reasons for those decisions, and my belief that doing so is justified."

The rest of the table went quiet. Miho and Maho's expressions turned solemn, realizing that Shiho was merely saying out loud what they had already known. Kinue turned to Shiho with a plaintive expression on her face, desperately hoping that she did not truly believe what she was saying. Hiroko and Hiroe frowned slightly, disapproving of what Shiho was saying, but realizing that everything she had spoken about illustrated why she would think this.

Masae's expression was calm and pensive. Most of her questions had been answered, save one.

"Do you think your mother, by raising you the way she did, succeeded in her goal, Instructor Nishizumi?" Masae said.

"As much as she could," Shiho said. "Mother believed in the Nishizumi Style to the very end, and made decisions for the school's best interests. Because she did, and because she believes that I would do everything she did, she was able to pass on without regrets."

The Atagos were left speechless. While they all opposed the Nishizumi styles to various extents and for various reasons, none of them had any idea what they could say to that description of Shiho's mother's resolve and belief in the Nishizumi style.

Shiho then broke the silence.

"If I recall correctly, Instructor Atago, you had once viewed Maho and Miho as pitiable products of my parenting, and came to me after wondering whether I was viewed in the same light," Shiho said, and Masae nodded. "To put it simply, the fact that my mother is dead, but my decisions are the same as they were when she was alive, is more or less proof that I do not do everything I do because of her."

"Perhaps not," Masae said. "But you said it yourself, Instructor Nishizumi- that your mother did what she did in the hopes that you would do things the way she did, when she was no longer around to supervise the Nishizumi School or tell you what to do. The way you teach tankery and raise your children seems to be the same way your mother did- the way she wants you to do."

Shiho paused, unable and unwilling to argue with that.

"That's true," Shiho said, "but that's not all there is to it. It was because I believed that the Nishizumi school was a good way of tankery that I chose to teach it to others. And it's because I believed I was raised well that I chose to raise my children the same way, so that they would preserve everything that our family valued for the next generation. That's all."

Masae pondered everything she had heard. Shiho had sacrificed much- her childhood, her happiness, and all other pursuits- in order to meet her mother's goals, as well as out of her belief that sacrifice was necessary to win. She had achieved much as a result, and thus had demanded similar sacrifices of others, because of her belief that her ways were justified, and they were the only ways she knew. Not all of Shiho's decisions could be blamed on others- many of them were not made at her mother's command, and Shiho continued to make such decisions after her mother died. But Shiho's circumstances had shaped her, and it was possible she would have turned out very differently if not for them.

So was Shiho a villain, a victim, or something in between? Masae believed she had found the answer.

End of Act III

Author's Notes

Shiho's story ends with the death of her mother, leaving her to head the school on her own. But while Hotaru may be gone, her influence on Shiho remains, even if Shiho is ultimately responsible for her own decisions. Shiho believes Hotaru lived a good life, and hopes that when she passes on, she will do so free of regret, like her mother did, and that she will be able to trust Maho with her family's school as much as her own mother trusted her. As such, the Nishizumi school is something Shiho hopes to keep going strong, out of respect for those who came before her, and so that she can pass it on to those who will come after her.

The next chapter will be the final chapter of Paths toward Victory, when Masae comes to a decision about Shiho. But is Shiho as sure about her decisions as she once was?