CONTENT WARNINGS
Following chapter contains mentions of death by suicide.
Proceed with caution.
The rhythm of life for the girls of Kuromorimine's Sensha-dō team was set by a one fixed training schedule, with a practice match between two randomly selected teams on Saturday. There were usually theoretical lectures on Monday, maneuvers on Tuesday, sparring on Wednesday, more maneuvers on Thursday and crew skills tests on Friday. And so on every week, over and over again. Sometimes, when they were preparing for a practice match, as these were the only ones held between the middle schools' divisions, the training sessions would last longer. Sometimes they had to stay to make necessary repairs. Sometimes a punishment had to be served, usually in the form of extra clean-up duty. But otherwise, nothing changed. She couldn't be more thankful to fate that she was living a stable, predictable life far away from tragedy, but the fact that she felt utterly useless to anyone in that life made it impossible for her to enjoy it the way she should. She didn't know what to think about it at all. And she didn't want to think about it.
She slipped through Saturday in a drowsy lethargy, assuming her usual position of idle observer. The last day of the school week was never particularly vivid, as if fatigue had robbed her of the ability to form memories of any significance. All she remembered was that Misaki hadn't come to school today, and most of the time, she felt someone's eyes on her, nudging her for just a moment, like a paper ball thrown at her.
The entire Middle School Division stood in formation on the assembly square and watched as Captain Nishizumi received the report from her deputy, Vice Captain Sachi Fujihara. Although the girls at the front were either actually interested or doing a good job of pretending to be, whispers and giggles could be heard in the back from distracted and tired tank girls. After all, it's impossible on a Saturday afternoon not to feel tired after a week of hard work. She tried to pretend not to hear them, but that was made all the more difficult by the fact that Honami, standing next to her, was gossiping with someone standing right behind her.
"Honami-chan, I would give anything to be able to swap places with you! You're really lucky you got a Panzer III. I'm sick of the Panzer 38, I hate being a commander and a gunner at the same time, it's so stupid!"
"You have nothing to envy me, my gunner can't even do her job. "
This was probably the worst training since Kikuyo had joined the Division. They had misoriented the map so that they missed a strategic position, driven into a deep ditch and nearly rolled over, which almost took their tank out of the fight, on top of which they had broken an antenna and lost communication with the rest of the division. Finally, when she had the opposing teams' tank on target, she missed. Her shot went just over its turret, which meant she had misjudged the distance. She never managed to get it right the first time. If only she had had the chance to correct her mistake! Unfortunately, the enemy tank was faster and more accurate.
She had no idea why they hadn't been kicked out of here already. Their very presence here is an insult to the honor of Kuromorimine and Sensha-dō. When the report was over, she wanted to leave as quickly as possible. However, she noticed that Captain Fujihara was approaching them, visibly flustered, to say the least. Her physique was full of contradictions - short and petite like a little girl, but stern and somewhat stiff in her movements like a high-ranking officer of a corps of tin soldiers. Her hairstyle didn't add to her demeanor - her dark gray hair, cut in the Hime style, was tied in two ponytails, but the glare in her steely eyes behind the thick lenses of her glasses was always full of anger.
Although she was Captain Nishizumi's right hand, few respected her, almost no one liked her, but everyone feared her wrath. However, she did not care what others thought of her, she was too busy making sure that Captain Nishizumi's orders were carried out as perfectly as possible. Personally, Kikuyo never held anything against vice-captain Fujihara. She was demanding and harsh, perhaps raising her voice unnecessarily at times, but Kikuyo had never seen her deliberately do anything to hurt anyone. Her comments, even if they were harsh and delivered in a raised voice, were always to the point. She envied her that justified self-confidence that Fujihara had earned for herself through her tireless efforts to achieve the perfection she was so close to.
"Wait!" Fujihara turned to the entire ill-fated Panzer III crew. "You think you're just going to walk away after all this?"
"Captain Fujihara, how could I dare to?"
Honami's humble tone sounded suspiciously similar to mockery and apparently Fujihara interpreted it as such, as she pierced her subordinate with a piercing, cold glare.
"See you at the headquarters in ten minutes. You better not be late. " She ordered and turned on her heel, leaving in their souls a panicky fear of what was about to befall them.
They waited at the door until the briefing of the First Platoon of the Middle School Division was over, in an emotional state that is every commander's nightmare. The remnants of sanity of Honami Shinobu's unfortunate crew were overcome by a wave of panic that robbed them of the ability to prepare for any real threat, instead filling their minds with countless exaggerated visions of the unknown future. It also obliterated the perception of time, making the seemingly short, measurable ten minutes drag on forever.
Kikuyo could hear Fujihara's muffled monologue from behind the door, but she had no idea what was being said. Her mind spun in circles, creating one vision after another of her impending punishment; cleaning duty in the toilets for the rest of the year, public humiliation by doing penalty push-ups at assembly, running penalty laps around the shooting range until they collapsed from exhaustion, being forced to walk around with a sign around her neck that said 'I'm an Idiot', cleaning duty... She knew that in practice this kind of punishment, designed to humiliate rather than to draw consequences from actions, was forbidden by the Commandment, but in practice there must have been exceptions. For some reason, she could not imagine a world in which the hierarchy of power was not based on violence and a relationship between the oppressed and the oppressor. That, it seemed, was how the Universe was supposed to be ordered.
"We are done! Now they're really going to kick us out," lamented Kanoko, the driver, huddled next to the door, trying to hold back her tears.
"Would you just shut up?" Honami stamped her foot nervously, trying to control her anger.
"Who's talking, huh? If you could keep your mouth shut sometimes, we wouldn't be standing here!"
Kikuyo couldn't help but agree with Kanako, but she remained silent, staring at the ground. Saying something of her own wouldn't improve the situation, quite the opposite. Besides, she wasn't blameless in this situation either, so she really should keep quiet.
"Maybe it would be a good idea to apologize... "Makoto, the radio operator, suggested, probably not realizing the naivety of her words.
"Apologize to Fujihara? No way, have you lost your damn mind?"
Honami's voice was so loud, as if she wanted to convince herself that by some miracle she would not be heard through the closed door. Or maybe she was well aware that Captain Fujihara could hear her, and for some reason wanted to make things even worse for them?
"Besides, some stupid apology won't be enough. She's already got us in her sights, so now she has to annihilate us. Simple," said the loader Hiroko, leaning against the wall and trying to look as if she didn't care about the whole situation. But the way her voice was cracking showed that she was just as terrified as the rest of them.
The cruel truth spoken by Hiroko made them all fall silent, crushed by the weight of reality. In that silence, she felt first one gaze, then another, and finally the eyes of the rest of the crew were focused on her. She had been silent for too long, isolating herself from the situation, which someone unkind to her might have interpreted as an attempt to elevate herself, to evade collective responsibility. And they could not let her get away with it.
"And you, don't you have anything to say?" Honami asked her harshly.
"No," she replied, not lifting her eyes from the floor, "I think we deserved what will happen to us. But I don't think it would hurt to apologize."
Before anyone had time to reply, the doors opened and the participants in the meeting quickly left, exchanging comments with each other that they must have kept to themselves while the meeting was going on. None of them even looked at her. Honami gestured for them to line up immediately and get ready for what was to come. Each of them corrected her uniform, making sure that every button of the crimson shirt and black uniform jacket was properly buttoned and that the skirt was not covered in dust. Kikuyo also fixed the side cap that kept slipping off her head and brushed her too-long bangs aside. When they were ready, they walked in with a steady step and Kanoko, the last in line, closed the door behind them.
The room was not too different from what she had had in mind. A table with a big map of training grounds was the focal point of the room, with plain folding chairs arranged around it. The room was bathed in a soft orange light, coming in from a row of windows, covered by sheer peach-colored curtains. The walls were covered with all sorts of posters, technical sketches and diagrams, all united by the Sensha-dō theme, except for one, on which hung a simple blackboard on which Captain Fujihara was erasing a sketch depicting some sort of formation.
"Tank Captain Honami Shinobu and her crew report as ordered! "
"At ease!" Fujihara ordered reluctantly and approached her with a slow, firm step. "This was your last chance to show that you are fit to be a platoon commander. What you have shown so far is pathetic, really pathetic"
Captain Fujihara was probably the only one who could look down on someone so much taller than her, like Honami, who slowly began to soften, even though she had acted so tough a moment ago.
"So this is what teamwork looks like here, huh? Covering for each other to avoid consequences! A collective responsibility? It's obvious who's to blame for the whole situation! Do you at least know what you did wrong? The answer everything does not satisfy me, although it is true!"
Although the vice-captain began her speech relatively calmly, one could see the anger rising within her with every word she spoke, to the point where she shouted the last sentences in their faces. They really were in big trouble. Kikuyo analyzed the humiliating memories of today once more and noticed a crucial detail that each of them had obviously overlooked before. Or maybe, they were making that mistake so often, that she stopped noticing it? She didn't dare say anything out loud, because tankers are loyal to each other, and that's what teamwork looks like here.
"Nothing? Really?" the silence infuriated Fujihara even more, "You have no situational awareness for your bloody lives! You're like a bunch of blind children wandering around in the fog! You never know where you are, where the rest of your team is, let alone where the enemy is. Shinobu, sometimes you act as if you not only can't read a map, but you can't even read basic characters! Even when you do manage to get to the right position, you charge straight into enemy fire like a bunch of Chi-Ha-Tan morons. You are so pathetically inept that I would even be willing to accuse you of sabotage!"
"I'm not going to comment on your driving," Fujihara said as he walked over to Kanoko, who was desperately trying not to burst into tears, "You're lucky that fuel got more expensive, because if we could afford it, you'd be driving non-stop until you learned anything. And even more lucky, that this time, you haven't broken anything, because if you did… I would pray that you had never been born "
Kikuyo knew it was her turn. As she came face to face with the Vice Captain, she almost forgot how to breathe.
"As for you... " Kikuyo wanted to lower her gaze, but then she would have looked directly into the eyes of shorter Captain Fujihara, something she wanted to avoid at all costs. "Decent, though you could judge the distance better."
The Vice Captain's words shocked her so deeply that she no longer fully understood what was going on here.
"As I said, this is your last chance to improve. You are a bit lucky today. Normally I'd have you doing laps around the hangar to teach you to put some effort into what you're doing, but it just so happens that there's a vacancy in the cleaning duty today. You are going to get a special lesson on humility."
As she said that, she looked at her watch, and judging by how she reacted to the time it showed, she was either already late or going to be.
"You're lucky Captain Nishizumi called me," Captain Fujihara said quickly on her way out.
As she left, she slammed the door behind her, jolting them all out of their shock, and a second later Kikuyo felt Honami and Kanoko's hateful gaze on her. After all, she was the only one out of those involved in the whole situation who had not received the humiliating reprimand she surely deserved in their and her own eyes, for some reason known only to Captain Fujihara.
"Idegami, you have two simple tasks," Honami said, looking at her with a seemingly contradictory mixture of loathing and jealousy, "First, you will clean the bathroom. As Fujihara wants it to be shiny. Secondly, since our command is so fond of you, you will now ask Miss Amamiya to help us to repair of the radio "
"I thought only the antenna broke... "
"Then you were wrong. Understood?"
She was not fond of punitive cleaning duties, but it was this second element of the punishment, imposed out of sheer spite, that filled her with horror. She knew, however, that she could not afford to beg for mercy, and that this senseless humiliation would do nothing for her, only give sadistic satisfaction to the rest of the crew. She decided to try to preserve what dignity she had left and undertake this almost suicidal mission.
"Yes!" she replied, then marched off with a quick step to begin her desperate search.
Who was this Michiru Amamiya, whose presence Honami demanded? The simplest answer would be that she was a radio operator in Captain Nishizumi's crew. While this may not sound like a very serious job to someone unfamiliar with the Sensha-dō culture of Kuromorimine, in practice, this role entailed great honor, but also responsibility - Miss Amamiya was responsible for the continuity of communication between the Captain's tank and the vice captain's tank, who in turn relayed orders to the platoon commanders, then passed to the individual tanks. While it was dangerous to break this line at any point, the loss of communication with the commander was a real catastrophe. That's why Amamiya was so important, even though Captain Nishizumi was known to often pass orders personally. Many of the girls from Kuromorimine said that hearing Amamiya's clear, gentle, yet calm and confident voice in their headphones, rather than Captain Nishizumi's monotonous, harsh voice, boosted their morale.
Miss Michiru also had an additional duty that made her stand out from all the other girls in a similar position - she was personally responsible for the technical condition of the radio equipment in both the middle school and high school divisions. Everyone used her skills to the full, as she was a true miracle worker, and when asked for help, she never refused.
No one knew where her extraordinary knack for fixing things came from, and rumors were no help, as Amamiya was very protective of her privacy. Only three things were known about her - her name, her function in the department, and the fact that she looked after the stray cats of Kuromorimine.
She became more and more panicked by the second. Asking Miss Amamiya for help was child's play compared to the fact that she would need to find Captain Nishizumi's tank to do so, and meeting her was something she wanted to avoid at all costs after what had happened yesterday. The worst thing one could do in Kuromorimine was to constantly cause trouble.
Once there, it was not difficult to find the right tank. The Panzer III Ausf. J, the team's main tank, stood in the center. Although it is well known that aesthetics are not the most important feature of a tank. prettier tanks were easier to win the sympathy of the crew and were much more popular. According to Kikuyo, the Panzer III was the most beautiful tank in the Middle School Division. Its harmonious proportions and perfectly proportioned turret and hull made it an imposing sight, especially in battle.
The person sitting on the turret noticed her arrival. It turned out to be none other than Miss Shimakawa. Kikuyo was not the only one who was wondering how someone like Nanami could have joined the Sensha-dō team. There were all kinds of rumors about her, after all, she was a rather mysterious, but well-known person. The whole school knew her as an incredibly talented pianist who somehow decided to join the Sensha-dō division, miraculously combining the two duties. No one knew why, let alone by what miracle her astonishing talent for Sensha-dō had appeared in her, nor did they know how someone like Shimakawa, with no connections in the Sensha-dō world, had managed to get into the closed circle of the elite, centered around Captain Nishizumi. Her whole persona was shrouded in an aura of unsolved mystery, the knowledge of which was needed to solve it, and was not available to the average tanker. Just like in an Illuminati circle.
"Miss Idegami, it's been a long time since we've seen each other, hasn't it?" she said with a knowing smile.
Kikuyo wanted to return the gesture, but she only managed to lower her eyes and brush a strand of hair away from her face.
"Excuse me, I'm looking for Miss Amamiya, and if I could, I'd like to ask her for help with the radio..."
"Michiru?" Miss Shimakawa interrupted her, raising an eyebrow in surprise, "You're lucky, she hasn't gotten anywhere yet. Michiru, someone would like to see you!"
The radio hatch at the front moved slightly, and then Michiru Amamiya came out of it. She seemed to have come out of a sentimental painting, one that expressed subtle beauty of something from a world that cannot be perceived by the senses, something from a world that is almost magical. She was slim and quite tall, and her movements were graceful and calm. Her fine, very short, light hair was styled according to the latest fashion, and the look in her slightly closed, dark eyes was full of gentleness. But there was something in this image that Kikuyo couldn't put a name to, something like melancholy, or maybe even sadness. She felt intimidated. Why, why exactly did the other girls put her in such a state? The answer to this question slowly came to her, but she was afraid to admit that it was true.
"How can I help you? "Amamiya spoke to her first, and the way she said the words made her feel a little more confident. There was really something magical about the sound of her voice.
"We had a problem with our tank radio. We thought it could be a matter of a broken antenna, but that's probably not you help us, if that's not a problem?" she asked, bowing appropriately.
"Of course. I'll just take my equipment and you can show me the way."
"Yes, ma'am!"
Miss Amamiya stepped out of the tank somewhat awkwardly, nodding for her to follow, and then they made their way to the Parts and Equipment Warehouse, where everything needed for tank repair and maintenance was kept. They walked in silence for a long moment, with only the sound of their footsteps disturbing it. Because of this, Kikuyo did not know what she was supposed to feel at that moment. On the one hand, she knew that silence was not a bad thing and that two people did not need to talk to each other to form a proper social interaction, but from the silence, she could not tell what Miss Michiru thought of the whole situation. All of her comfort was based on being aware of what she looked like from the perspective of other people, and constantly adapting to their expectations of her. So she needed to find a way to find out what Miss Michiru thinks of her, to nip that existential fear in the bud, to speak first, and based on how she was received, to respond somehow.
"I'm sorry for the inconvenience and the waste of your time. I hope it's not too much of a problem..."
"Absolutely not! I'm the one who feels like I'm bothering everyone. That's why I like it when someone asks me for help, it makes me feel needed. Though, I wanted to leave a little early today to clean up at my kittens' place." Amamiya smiled to herself and paused for a moment "Could you remind me who you are? "
"Kikuyo Idegami, gunner..."
"Honami Shinobu is your commander, right?"
"That's right... - Slowly, the full extent of the bad fame with which they have covered themselves is beginning to sink in."
"Then that means you are quite good."
She was so shocked that the only thing she could do was to sigh in disbelief. It must have been a misunderstanding on her part, for the fact that someone could be in such high praise of her abilities was surreal, like from an idealistic dream.
"Don't be so surprised. The fact that your tank has any combat value at all is down to you. That's what Captain Fujihara says. And as far as I know, Captain Nishizumi shares the same opinion."
"Really?" She stood there as if struck by a bolt of lightning, trying to control the storm of conflicting emotions that was raging within her and to piece together what had been revealed tinto a logical and sensible whole. Suddenly, the words Captain Fujihara had spoken to her made sense. Suddenly, Miss Shimakawa's kindness became more understandable. So this was not some strange game of deception that she could not understand, in which those in authority over her showed her kindness so that they could hurt her more deeply, but an expression of sincere appreciation for her abilities that she had no idea she possessed? All of a sudden, there was a feeling in her that could be called hope - it was warm and gentle, and she could feel tears gathering at the corners of her eyes because of it. But this time, she didn't try to fight with her emotions, because for some reason, she felt she could afford to be at least a little emotional in front of Miss Amamiya. How strange, barely a moment ago, she would not have believed that one day, just by chance, she would be connected to someone, not necessarily close to her, by something she had almost forgotten existed - trust.
Michiru couldn't help but look at the younger girl with a mixture of concern and sympathy as she suddenly found herself in an intense emotional state because of her innocent remark, and Michiru wasn't sure how to react. Although she knew that it was her words that had caused it, she was sure that they were certainly not hurtful. Apparently, Kikuyo was one of those girls the world likes to describe as whiny, overly sensitive, or even hysterical, while preparing to try and cure those conditions by giving them a real reason for the emotional distress, most of the time, through inflicting pain on them. Michiru crossed paths with many of these girls, and she saw one of them every day in the mirror.
For this very reason, she had the feeling that she had to do something for her younger friend. She knew very well that she was weak herself, and that she needed someone's help just as much, if not more. Therefore, she was probably not strong enough to save someone from the world, or the forces within them that could be destructive like nothing else. Still, she was willing to try. Perhaps because someone had once tried to save her from herself, before that other girl had been consumed by the darkness within her. And Michiru Amamiya had long since realized that reality repeated itself in cycles, looping around and playing out the same scenarios over and over again, sometimes only with a different cast. It seemed that it was time for another iteration.
"Let's go inside," she suggested, noticing that they were standing right next to the warehouse door. She pulled on the large handle of the metal door, and as she stepped inside, she made sure that Idegami was definitely coming with her by looking over her shoulder.
The light in the warehouse had a strange greenish glow to it, and it was unable to really light up the warehouse space, which was drowning in half darkness. Only the faint smell in the air, which she could have described as the smell of a tank, told her that this was a warehouse. Perhaps it would have been easier if the light had worked as it should have - then she would have been able to see the rows of steel shelves that seemed to go on forever. Michiru spotted her equipment bag on one of them, but completely ignored its presence and went to the window instead, which was so dirty that neither the view of the outside world nor even a ray of light could get through. Beneath the window was a wooden chest with unknown contents. With a nod, she gestured for Kikuyo to sit on it, and then went to face it, leaning against some shelve.
"Miss Kikuyo, why did you join the Sensha-do team?"
She got straight to the point, asking the question at the heart of everything. If she didn't know who someone was, what they were seeking for in the world, she would ask them how they came to be in Division. She believed that the answer to that question might be the key to understanding the other person. Despite the fact that she and Captain Nishizumi shared so little in terms of lifestyle and worldview, what they did have in common was the belief that Sensha-dō was an effective way to understand other human beings. Perhaps this was the reason why they were able to get along so well.
Kikuyo, meanwhile, had no idea what was going on, either on a logical or emotional level. How was she supposed to answer that question? As she thought about how she had ended up in Division, her first days in Kuromorimine flashed before her eyes. When the hope that her life would change in middle school and she would suddenly become a different person who could start all over again slowly faded, for the first time, she had to cope with surviving in the new and terrifying reality of Kuromorimine, away from the support of her loved ones. And Kuromorimine was a school. where there was an eternal struggle for survival between the strong and the weak, who were unaware that their free will was an illusion, and that they themselves were acting exactly as the predetermined script of the universe had dictated. How she cried into her pillow almost every single night, praying that by some miracle she would stop being a pathetic coward who just couldn't talk to anyone, and would manage to make friends with someone, because the loneliness was so terrifying and unbearable. But that never happened.
So when all the first-year students were gathered in the auditorium and presented with a recruitment video for the famed Kuromorimine's Sensha-dō Division, culminating in a fiery speech by the then vice-captain of the High School Team, Naoko Hayashi, who possessed almost magical charisma, she felt that her very existence had been to shaken to the core. So much so that, for the first time in her life, she made a sudden, spontaneous decision to put the only thing she had - her own life - on the line for the faint hope of changing her fate. She knew how often, despite advances in technology and attempts to ensure safety, tankery girls still had to pay the ultimate price for their dreams. But that did not bother her - she felt that Sensha-dō could be both a reason to live, and something to die for.
"Miss Amamiya, I..." she paused to take a deep breath before continuing, "Nowadays, Sensha-dō is everywhere. For as long as I can remember, I have seen tankery girls on television and in magazines as the absolute ideal. Now I know it wasn't the whole truth, but when I joined the Division, I thought I could be like them — tough, courageous, determined... beautiful. I wanted to stop being myself and..."
"Does that mean you took up Sensha-dō because you don't like yourself? Did you hope that Sensha-dō would make you something better?"
"Yes... I guess that's probably how it was..."
"If so, then I think that, unfortunately, we have a lot in common..."Michiru smiled sadly after saying those words, as if she had just discovered a mystery that she longed to solve, but the solution turned out to be just another tragic fact.
Until now, she wasn't quite sure if she was projecting her own problems and fears onto Kikuyo. Sadly, her instincts did not deceive her — she sensed in the younger girl's words the spark of something she knew all too well - a seemingly innocent desire to change something in herself waiting to turn out to be a straight road to self-destruction. She knew that someone had to stop her, and that it was becoming increasingly unlikely that she would be that someone.
"Miss Amamiya, you too... "It was hard for her to believe that someone like Michiru Amamiya could hate herself as much as she did. And yet! She could feel her worldview beginning to fall apart.
"Maybe even more than you. But I pray that you will never be able to hate yourself as much as I do. I brought you here in the hope that I might be able to help you in some way. But perhaps you are too much alike... I'm sorry.
Michiru wanted to look down, but by some miracle, their eyes met. Neither of them could remember the last time they had looked so deeply into someone else's eyes. That moment was filled with a silence that was paradoxically not empty; on the contrary, it allowed their souls to finally understand each other. They looked into each other's eyes and the conclusions they came to were unexpected. On the other hand, because they gave a meaningful explanation, they brought comfort and a kind of even solace.
Looking at Michiru, Kikuyo wondered if she, too, might appear to others as a talented but somewhat distant beauty, contrary to what she thought of herself. Michiru, on the other hand, thought that perhaps one day, someone would be able to see through her illusion, to reach into her soul and not recoil in disgust, but rather feel compassion for her.
At some point, however, the emotional experience proved a little too overwhelming - they withdrew into themselves, like a hand that has been touching something very hot for too long. They smiled at each other somewhat awkwardly - what a strange situation this was! It was strange, but was it uncomfortable?
"It seems to me that we won't find a solution to our problem anytime soon," Kikuyo was the first to speak. "But it looks like we should seek it together."
"I agree," Michiru replied, "And for now... I think we should just do our own thing. With everything we have. I think that's the only thing we can do at the moment."
Miss Michiru instructed her to start cleaning the bathrooms, while she would find the tank that needed repairing on her own. They agreed that, in the context of the recent events, it would be better if they pretended to Honami and the rest of the crew that they didn't know each other. Maybe they could ease Honami's anger that way.
She could not say that she hated cleaning, on the contrary, uninteresting, to the point of being automatic, activities like cleaning floors or windows helped her to put her thoughts in order, and today she had a lot to sort out in her head. So she did not really mind the cleaning. But only if the work was shared out fairly, and she wasn't the only one fighting the week's worth of dirt in Division's huge bathroom. She hated it when she was forced to do it by someone else. Her back ached from bending over, and the acidic smell of chlorine mixed with the artificial citrus scent of the floor cleaner must have been overwhelming. At times like this, it seemed as if the mirrors had never been wiped, as if someone had deliberately walked in with muddy shoes, and she preferred not to think about the toilets at all. She was so absorbed in her sisyphean task, that she did not paid attention the footsteps in the corridor, nor did she pay any notice to the opening of the door.
"Lorelei, let it go already, you'll sort it out some other time!"
"It can't wait, besides, Michiru Amamiya said she'd be there!"
It wasn't until the raised, unfamiliar voices became really close that she finally paid attention to them. As she lifted her gaze, she saw a sight in the bathroom doorway that would give Sensha-dō fans a heart attack. Standing in front of her were three female commanders from the famous Special Task Battalion - Lorelei, Lotta and Elsa. Captain Junko Aizawa formed this unit two years ago, for the purpose of carrying out reconnaissance, and of carrying out unexpected, sometimes downright clandestine operations in the rear of enemy formations. The battalion proved to be a spectacular success, becoming so famous that its members decided to adopt pseudonyms to hide their real names from their often obsessive fans.
The Kuromorimine girls knew a little more about them - Elsa, the unofficial leader of the group, who's real name was probably Elisabeth, was the only non-Japanese in the division and the daughter of West German diplomats. Lotta - Takeda Rokuhara, was a member of the school council and was responsible for maintaining proper relations between the Division and the rest of the school community. Ran "Lorelei" Yaguchi, came from a poorer part of Kumamoto, was direct, resourceful and determined to succeed at all costs. She also had a younger sister in middle school.
Most of Kuromorimine's students were used to seeing the country's top Sensha-dō players every day in ordinary, routine situations. But when it came to face-to-face encounters, the vast majority, including Kikuyo, were overwhelmed by shyness.
"Senpai, I beg you not to come in here! The floor is wet!" Maybe she shouldn't yell at her senpai or forbid them to do anything, but it would be really unfortunate if one of them broke their neck on the freshly mopped floor. Kikuyo had been so unlucky over the past few days that such a situation would hardly surprise her.
"I'm sorry!" said Lorelei, smiling apologetically, "I'm looking for Kikuyo Idegami, isn't that you?"
"Yes, that's me! "
Before she had time to wonder why she was being looked for by Lorelei herself, who had been announced as the MVP of the last National Championships in the previous issue of the Sensha-dō Monthly, Lorelei approached her, almost losing her balance on the wet floor, and then, to the surprise of all present, bowed deeply.
"Thank you for helping my sister. No words can express my gratitude."
It was only then that Kikuyo put the facts together - after all, it was her friend Misaki Yaguchi's older sister, Ran, who had taken the nickname Lorelei. Ran, with her tall and muscular stature, and short, shiny hair and overall grace of Takarazuka's otokoyaku actress, couldn't be more different from small and plump Misaki, who hides her face behind long, unkempt hairstyle and pair of glasses. It seemed impossible that sisters could have such different characters and personalities.
"I had no idea what was going on with her. Misaki had always been a rather secretive person. Also, who would want to talk about such things? Yesterday, Nanami Shimakawa came up to me during the lunch break and told me about her meeting the two of you, and what she thought might have happened. Then I finally pushed Misaki to tell me what really was happening. She also told me that you were the only one who didn't just stand by and watch, but actually did something about it... How could I let someone hurt my little sister? How could I have failed like that?
"Lorelei..." Elsa sighed as she realized how close her friend was to breaking down crying and moved closer to hug her, while Lotta pulled a handkerchief from her jacket pocket, preparing for the worst. But Ran ignored them and blinked quickly to get rid of the tears that were gathering at the corners of her eyes. She couldn't allow anyone to see someone as renowned as her for bravery and strength in battle crying over something so trivial.
"I'm sorry about the floor. How about, to repay my debt of honor, we finish it for you?" she suggested. It was hard to tell who Lorelei had shocked more with her words - Kikuyo or her companions.
"That's not necessary, really... "Kikuyo muttered.
Everything that had happened today, the number of coincidences she had to get lost in to get where she was, made the sense of unreality launch a violent assault on her young teenage psyche. All the while, a sense of the fictionality of what was happening stirred within her. Although politeness and the established rules of social intercourse dictated that she politely refused to help, she was so heartily fed up with the day that she would have liked to drop everything and, as she stood, run to her room to hide from the madness of the world and another unexpected emotional catastrophe.
"I insist. I can't bear to be in anyone's debt," Lorelei replied in a firm tone. Lotta sighed, knowing that there was nothing left for her to do but go and get a cloth and some mirror polish, and by the way, bring Ran a brush and toilet cleaner, because according to her, since she was the one who came up with the idea, she was the one who should do the worst job. Elsa, on the other hand, didn't seem to want to be trapped by someone else's debt of honor and tried to back out discreetly, which instantly Lorelei noticed.
"Now, Elsa, don't try to wriggle out of this. What better thing do you have to do, going to Shoko's party?"
For some reason, the mere mention of Shoko Hayashi filled Elsa with such disgust that she immediately bent down to pick up the mop that had been dropped in the commotion, and began mopping the floor with as much vigor as if she were being paid thousands of dollars for every minute of work. As she did so, she probably muttered a few insults and curses in German, apparently in the direction of the said party organizer, whom she seemed to hold in pure disdain.
The cards were reshuffled and the situation reversed a hundred and eighty degrees before Kikuyo could do anything. Was this supposed to be some kind of insightful metaphor about the nature of Sensha-dō, and more specifically, how a single situation could completely change the future by means of a seemingly meaningless gesture? She didn't have the energy to think about it right now, it wasn't the kind of inner discourse that was appropriate for a late Saturday afternoon.
She thanked her senpai with an overabundance of 'thank you' and an overly formal bow, then, making sure she could really afford herself to do it, took a quick step towards the changing room. Since fate had given her the opportunity to start the weekend early, it would be a shame not to take advantage of her senpai's generosity. She only hoped that neither Captain Fujihara nor Honami would find out. And that it wasn't just a hallucination caused by the exhaustion of the training and the whole emotional tornado that had been gripping her for far too long.
On days like this, many wondered how Captain Shiho Nishizumi could maintain her unshakable belief in the supremacy of human will over the judgments of fate. Anyone else, on hearing that every single school she had offered a practice match to had to turn it down for reasons completely beyond their control, and that the replies to those who had expressed an interest had been lost somewhere in the depths of the school carriers' complicated postal system and only arrived yesterday, would have begun to blame malicious fate for these complications. Moreover, if their vice- captain had been late for the first time in their lives, on the very day when they had an extraordinary amount of paperwork to deal with in connection with the start of the second trimester and the need to present a formal training plan, and Nanami, with whom they were supposed to appear before Captain Junko Aizawa today to finally present the results of what they had been working on for so long, had suddenly had to finish training early today because of the music school, they would probably have blamed the gods for their unjust judgments.
Shiho imagined how easy it must be - to blame one's failures on forces supposedly beyond one's control. Shifting responsibility for the consequences of one's actions to fate was simply a way of escaping it. Thus, the Nishizumi-ryū demanded her to reject the belief that what happens to us is somehow predetermined, and to face the fact that the individual is the only major force affecting his or her life. She did, however, allow for the random factor in her calculations - after all, she cannot control the weather, for example. For her, there was no contradiction between the two in any way - on the contrary, it made sense in her own system of perception, while for others it was simply hypocritical. But no one in Kuromorimine dared to accuse Captain Nishizumi herself of hypocrisy.
Walking towards Captain Aizawa's office, she couldn't help but think back to when her journey began, but in a metaphorical sense. In her mind, she recalled the bizarre conversation with her cousin, with whom she had been training the Sensha-dō since she was a child, that had inspired her to do all of this. How she had wandered through the eastern district of Kumamoto in search of Nanami's home address in order to offer her working together her mission to save Nishizumi-ryū, and even the whole of Sensha-dō, from the materialistic nihilism of modern Japan. Her sleepless nights, searching for old documents, reading all sorts of books on strategy and militaria, making plans, studies and diagrams - all this was about to become a reality. For some reason, even though she had neither won nor succeeded yet, she felt something like pride in the efforts that she, Nanami and Sachi Fujihara, who only recently got involved into all of this,had put into this project. That was why she felt that she had to succeed. When she arrived at the office, she knocked on the door without hesitation and entered without waiting for an answer; after all, she had not come unannounced, Captain Aizawa was expecting her.
"Good evening," she greeted, honoring her superior.
"Good evening, Captain Nishizumi. Have a seat," Junko, who was sitting behind a heavy, large solid wood desk, indicated the chair in front of her and glanced at the folder Nishizumi was holding, "Have you made a report on this week's training?"
"Of course, Captain Aizawa."
She took the document from her and glanced through it vaguely, without even turning the pages.
"Is it written up properly?" she asked. There was something in Nishizumi's handwriting that betrayed someone from a lineage that practiced traditional Japanese arts. She made strokes of the characters more carelessly than decency and respect for the reader of these scribbles would allow, but on the other hand they had some traces of the classical beauty of traditional calligraphy, making them resemble an abomination, born of the laziness of someone convinced of their own excellence, who does not care whether their writings are eligible to anyone other than themselves. This is how a narcissistic aristocrat of the Taishō era, complaining about the torture of the soul and the decay of values, could write his diaries, not her subordinate.
"Yes!"
"Okay, I'll go over it tomorrow night. Now let's get down to business, what did you want to talk to me about?"
Shiho took a deep breath. For some reason, she suddenly sensed something that reminded her of what she had felt a year ago, back in the hospital, when she had also had a conversation with Aizawa. This time, she knew that this thing would pass as soon as she went through with the task. Nevertheless, the rare moments when some form of emotion appeared in her empty soul threw her off balance.
"Over the past year, together with Vice Captain Sachi Fujihara and my gunner, Nanami Shimakawa, we have been working on a new doctrine that I plan to implement next year as Captain of the High School Division. I would like to test it in practice as soon as possible, while I am still in middle school. That's why I'm asking for your approval, because according to the Kuromorimine Sensha-dō Division Code, all decisions regarding doctrine must be personally approved by the High School Division Captain."
"I assume you have all the necessary documents in those folders? Had Shiho Nishizumi been even a little bit better at understanding and recognising emotions, she would have immediately noticed that Junko was struggling to hide her astonishment.
"Yes, ma'am" she replied and handed her an extremely thick paper folder on which Nanami had calligraphed the slogan "Götterdämmerung".I was inspired to work on this by our conversation when I visited you in the hospital. You asked me if Sensha-dō has any meaning. This is my answer."
"Really? I can't remember anything from our conversation, I think it was because of the medication I was under. I'm impressed that you were so concerned about what I had been saying at that time."
Something in the expression on Aizawa's face led her to believe that she was lying. Studying the contents of the folder took her a long moment. Shiho took the opportunity to look around the office, trying to escape the pervasive awkwardness of the situation. After all, she would be the one in charge here when she took over the high school division next school year. On the wall to her right was a locked metal file cabinet, and to her left was a window covered by metal blinds. But she didn't dare have a look behind her - where the National Championship winner's banner should be in the display cabinet. She still could not believe that they had lost the final to Pravda, of all schools. And she still could not believe that Junko Aizawa was almost entirely to blame.
But if, instead of looking around, she had looked at her superior, she would have seen her shaking her head in disbelief, turning the pages as if they were an unfunny joke.
"I can't believe this. You're out of your mind," she said suddenly and threw the closed folder on the desk. Shiho didn't have the slightest idea what this was supposed to mean.
"On the contrary. What I have just handed over to you is the result of more than a year's worth of work, not just mine. Something like this could not have been born in a moment of frenetic inspiration". She realized her last sentence sounded exactly like something Nanami would say. She had been spending way too much time with her lately. Though, was that such a bad thing?
"Panzerkeil, really? Setting up a wall of offensive formations to lure opponents into range and then finishing them off with a single, devastating blow? That's the exact opposite of what we've been training for all our lives!"
"Sensha-dō is changing, Captain Aizawa. The days of post-war makeshifts and disorganized brutality are long gone. Our country, and Sensha-dō with it, has never been developing at such a pace. If we want to rise to the top, we have to stop thinking in terms of survival and the advantages of a small group of individuals. We need to start thinking more broadly, about the Division as a single entity. This is the only way we can win against the collectivist Pravda and the US-funded Saunders.
"Listen," Aizawa began, looking her straight in the eye, "back then, in the hospital, I rather had in mind whether you thought what you were doing made sense, meaning if what we were doing to each other could be logically explained in any way, if it had any purpose for us. I wanted you to think about whether what you were devoting your whole life to could give you anything in return, not for you to formulate for me a new system of philosophy and doctrine for the Division".
"I had the right to misunderstand you, and the right to draw my own conclusions." She was never good at answering the question of what the author meant in Japanese literature classes. Apparently she was even worse at playing "What does Junko Aizawa mean?"
"Of course. I am well aware that there's someone would love to forbid you to even think on your own, but that is impossible. The same someone who is prepared to club you to death, or condemn you to a fate much worse than that, for trying to bring about such radical changes, which are the exact opposite of their values, and which they regard as an attempt at treasonous revolt. And this is what they will do, because you do not stand a chance against them, Nishizumi Shiho"
"That someone is my mother, right?"
The eerie silence, filled with the deep fear around which both of their existences were built, was answer enough for her. Immediately, she felt how every, even the smallest object in this entire room, nay, in all of Kuromorimine, seemed to be marked by her presence, making each of them become like a devil's eye through which to observe her, every moment of her life. Every mention of Karuho Nishizumi, the current Iemoto of Nishizumi-ryū, evoked such a reaction.
Although she had long since been expelled from the Japanese Sensha-dō Federation, she still cast her ghostly shadow over it. Mentioning her name was almost like invoking the name of the devil. It was like pressing the number four button on a lift that supposedly took people to hell. It was like reading a cursed poem in your head, which, if recited aloud, would bring madness, possession and then certain death. But she was far more horrifying than all these things, because she existed for real.
What was it that Karuho Nishizumi had done to become the cause of so much widespread terror? Most preferred not to think about it too much, so as not to lose their minds, but they knew full well that she was responsible for the bad name that the Sensha-dō of the 1960s had shrouded themselves in. She was the reason why, to this day, some people consider girls of Kuromorimine Sensha-dō team to be bloodthirsty and brutal, no different than animals. It is because of the memory of her times that many tank girls thank the Gods after each training session that they are still alive. It is because of her that some say the forest behind the firing range is haunted, and that the Division buildings have a metallic smell of blood at night. It is because of her that Shiho's teachers have avoided her all her life, as if in fear of something. Because of her, she was what she was.
"What my mother did to the Sensha-dō is a disgrace to the entire history of our lineage. She is a traitor to all the ideals of Nishizumi-ryū. Perhaps she thinks I exist only to be her puppet, reflection her ideology without free will of my own, but as the heir of the Nishizumi family, I must oppose her so that the ideals she has betrayed and sold out may survive. Otherwise, we will die."
Junko didn't want to hear it anymore. Her breathing quickened and her mind was filled with images, both past and imagined, of what might have happened, along with the panic. They mingled into a sensation of existential terror that escaped the confines of her mind, as she began to feel past and present pain all over her body along the smell of thick, sour blood in her mouth, though none of it was real, as it should be a thing of the past. Damn her for the cursed hour in which, for some crazy reason, she had allowed herself to speak about her. She knew she had gone mad a long time ago, but it just so happened that she had something to lose now. Someone had come into her life a while ago, someone she wanted to protect at all costs. That was why she couldn't let Nishizumi ruin everything with some pointless rebellion.
"You've gone completely insane! I don't know what's gotten into your mind, but don't try to get yourself and everyone else killed! You don't stand a chance!" She noticed how her voice was shaking, and Nishizumi could probably see pure terror in her eyes.
"You are wrong. I can do it. It's not impossible. Last year, when you were injured and Naoko Hayashi was in charge of the team on your behalf, she was able to make some very similar changes..."
"Yes, Naoko was doing very well until she decided to hang herself!"
The memory of their tragically deceased friend was already too much for both of them, shattering the illusion of emotional stability. They were already walking on thin, fragile ice - if it cracked, something would happen beyond their control. Junko turned her face to the wall, not even trying to stop crying. Meanwhile, Shiho felt something strange begin to happen to her, as it always did when she had to indulge in the only escape allowed in Nishizumi-ryū - that from her own emotions and the intense memories they coloured. The world would seem completely unreal, and her consciousness would sink deep within herself, so that she would become completely detached from her body, finding herself for a moment in a liminal space, between conscious and unconscious, reality and a dream, excruciating pain and overwhelming sedation, until she finally disappeared completely...
Only after a while did she remember what had just happened: Junko was standing by the window, smoking a cigarette. Although she disgraced herself with this nasty habit quite often, she usually respected most of the existing rules and regulations, including the one that categorically forbade smoking on Division premises, but today she made an exception. She tried to remember the reason - she remembered that they had talked about her new doctrine, but her memory began to fade at the moment Junko had mentioned her mother. So what happened next? Well, a new little mystery related to the gaps in her memory had apparently just been created.
Yet she felt... strange, as if she were still not whole, as if she were just a stranger in her own consciousness. It was as if, instead of feeling her surroundings as she should, she was simply watching a film shot from a first-person perspective. She concluded that she should probably go to the window, perhaps the fresh air would help her at least a little.
"'I'm sorry,'" Aizawa said first, taking a deep breath and then moving slightly to make some space for her, "I forgot that you and Naoko were the closest to each other since we trained Sensha-dō as children. I thought that out of all of us, you were the one who had managed to recover from that somewhat, apparently I was wrong. "
"I don't know what you're talking about, Captain Aizawa. "Even her own voice sounded like something foreign to her.
"Really? You seemed pretty upset. "
"We were just discussing my new doctrine," she said dispassionately.
The evening air by the sea had something extremely soothing and refreshing about it, and thanks to it, everything in her soul slowly began to return to an acceptable norm. She really did not understand why Junko Aizawa did not find it enough and had to poison herself with cigarettes. Perhaps if she were to stop, she would also be able to feel something like a melancholy caused by the transience of the moment in the scent of this evening. After all, the evening is only a brief moment before the night - its fate is to fade away. For someone like her radio operator Michiru, this fact must have been deeply moving.
"If that's so... "Junko sighed, throwing away cigarette butt, "I think I've figured it out; the School Festival will be held in November. Like every year, the brigade was supposed to have a parade and an exhibition match between two teams from the high school division. This time, the headmaster asked me to do something new because, in his opinion, the old form had been overdone, whatever that means".
"I don't see any connection between those two things." The School Festival... she had completely forgotten about it, probably because it had become so embedded in the school year that it had ceased to be anything special to her.
"Therefore, your top ten Middle School tank crews, trained according to your methods, will face the top ten High School tank crews. If you win, you can do whatever you want. If you don't, you will burn the file of this new doctrine in front of me and forget all about it once and for all. "With that she took another cigarette from the box and lit it with a lighter. "I want to give you the chance to prove yourself. In six months I won't be here, and in three I won't be involved in the Division's business. Then I don't care what you do. You can even sell all our tanks and buy yourself some Shermans or whatever you want. That is not my problem. It's not me you have to convince, it's her. And the only way to do that is to have a spectacular victory in front of the public, because that's what she loves most. I really don't know why I'm so afraid of her," she tried to say the last sentence in a cheerful tone, but a shiver ran down her spine anyway.
Shiho realized how brilliant Aizawa's idea was in its simplicity. She had been so focused on the fact that she had to risk everything in the fight for Kuromorimine, throwing herself into a multidimensional conflict, that she hadn't noticed that doing what she always did, winning, might be enough. How could she have failed to notice such simple solutions? She really does spend too much time with Shimakawa.
"Thank you. I will take this opportunity.
"You will thank me with an interesting match. Just remember, I'll do my best to win it. I advise you to do the same."
"Of course."
"By the way, it's getting awfully late, isn't it? Who would have thought we'd be stuck here for so long..."
"Indeed, it's time for me to go," Nishizumi read this hint easily and began to get ready to leave.
"Goodbye, Captain Aizawa."
"Goodbye, Captain Nishizumi."
When Shiho left, Junko was left alone with her tiredness, particularly the mental one. She felt a sudden, irrational urge to sit down on the floor, which she did immediately - would anyone see her here? Would they forbid her? For some reason, the cold, hard linoleum made her feel a little better. But the boundaries of decency had not been crossed, so without the slightest qualm, she lay down on the floor, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. It was perfect, so perfect that she could even die in this place, in this exact position. Junko Aizawa, the mad captain of Kuromorimine, had reached the bottom. For some reason, she was very amused by this.
Staring at the ceiling, she wondered why the hell she had acted the way she had. Why hadn't she just laughed at the young Nishizumi and told her to get on with her life and do something more useful? She had no idea. Why did the mere mention of Naoko Hayashi make her hysterical? It was a little less unclear here. She herself was horrified at how unstable her mood was, changing like a kaleidoscope.
Just today, for example - a moment ago, she felt such anxiety, as if she were about to die, then, as if grief and despair were almost squeezing the soul out of her. Now, however, she felt a crystalline emptiness and peace, and something like hope that tomorrow might somehow miraculously be better. Since when does nicotine do this? Maybe Nishizumi is the genius she seems to think she is, and will build her utopia on the barrel of her own tank. Or perhaps, Junko will manage to take the one she loved so much and run away with her to a world where girls have never been fighting for their lives in a tank, where they can be free of their memories and live happily ever after? Well, it turns out that Nishizumi is allowed to think, and Aizawa is allowed to dream.
In her dreams, bordering on delusion, she had completely ignored the fact that this evening would last much longer than she had expected. Nor had she imagined the lengths to which it would go to nip her hopes in the bud. But for now, far below her, the evening, with its last flashes of sunlight, painted in gold the sea waves that relentlessly crashed against the sides of the Graf Zeppelin. It was impossible to know whether they were an uplifting symbol of the fierce struggle against the invincible, or an illusory, deceptive glimmer encouraging those who were blinded by it to throw themselves into the abyss.
Author's Notes:
This took me longer than I expected, sorry for that! I hope you enjoyed the read, sometimes, it was really difficult to make this chapter work on so many levels (pacing issues, tankery details, psychology of characters, TRANSLATION). I hope I was able to overcome it somewhat, and, that new characters made you care about them even for a bit.
Last, but not least, huge thanks to Nazz11 for answering my questions and helping me sort out some details regarding tanks and tank warfare. Thank you so much, you're the best!