Hello hello. Some readers might recognize the premise or the beginning block of this chapter. If so, welcome back! I hope this one will not die so quickly like the last one. But for anyone who's interested and not aware, I've had a different GuP fic way back in 2019 with similar premises, but I unfortunately couldn't find proper direction for that fic. And then Covid hit the year after, and I went into a long hiatus that just came back. This time, I had a clearer idea of how this whole story will spin out. If things go smoothly, it should be a two arc story. The characters changed completely, and the setting has also changed, but I still copy-pasted a bit since the lead-in I figure was a decent opener regardless. Next chapters will be entirely different.

Since I do not have enough space in the fic description, I will preface here by saying that this take place years prior to the main series, so Alice won't be the team commander (she'll still be in the fic though).

Anyway, enough about me. Enjoy the newly revised fic! Reviews/Criticisms are welcome.

EDIT Sept 30, 2024: Cleaned up and trimmed down a lot of details.

Chapter 1: Dark Shadows

The sound of shells smashing onto the turret mantlet of the Churchill VII followed by a deafening and prolonged scream of metal. The crew could feel the heat of the shells leaking into the interior. And the tank commander could wow at awe at the tank's capacity to take so much beatings and still remained an intact war machine that could still rain punishment on its attackers.

"We're still in this guys…"

The long black-haired girl in the hatch was grinning fiercely. This was the championship match. All the other tanks have gone down honorably, but not hers. The last struggle. She would not go down without putting everything on the table. Everything would be at stake. Since the white flag was not up yet, it would continue. They would feel her wrath.

"Masala, that last shot wasn't from either Tigers. It was the Jagdtiger!" The gunner turned over to her commander worryingly.

"So it finally caught up with us." The grin on Masala's lips disappeared, as she peered over the hatch. "The pit is no longer safe. Let's get out of here."

The order was ambiguous, but clear enough for the driver to make her move. The track grinded the dirt violently as it reversed out of the pit, under the cover of several other defeated Matildas. Shells began to pummel the ground beneath their treads as the retreated. But they were capable of getting away with this for free. The Churchill's mobility was relatively unimpressive comparing to normal tanks, but the thick armor ensured their escape. The Kuromorimine's tanks were too heavy to exit that hill now. This was her chance.

"Masala, this is impossible!" The loader yelled. "There is no way we can go against a Tiger II and a Jagdtiger by ourselves!"

"But the Tiger I is our primary objective, isn't it?"

The Tiger I was Kuromorimine's command tank proudly bearing the number of Germany's most feared tank ace, it hardly knew the feeling of a white flag flying atop of its hull. But the price to pay for its pride was that the tank can be knocked out a lot easier than its heavier counterparts. If Masala was attending Kuromorimine and was their commander, she would probably switch it for that. But she didn't have enough points for the school, and found the elegance of St. Gloriana more attractive than the highly disciplined Kuromorimine anyway, so here she was. It was going to be hard, but not impossible.

"We need to get at least to its sides for it. Are you sure you can sneak our tank over to it?" The gunner asked.

"Definitely." Masala replied confidently. "Be so subtle that you are invisible. Be so mysterious that you are intangible. Then you will control your rival's fate."

"Sun Tzu's Art of War." Everybody except the loader answered, to which the latter conformed. It was almost over anyway.

And where the subtleness could be found, according to Masala, was in the small town a few kilometers to the west of where they had previously engaged the three German tanks. The Churchill arrived and began to take point at a bridge, waiting for the Kuromorimine's three remaining tank to arrive. And soon they did. Automatically, without any doubts, it was the precede to a blazing demonstration of firepower. But being unstable on the move, all of them missed their targets.

They have taken the bait. Masala immediately ordered the tank to retreat further into the town. They stopped again at a small primary school to feint an engagement before moving off again. Rinse repeat a few times until they arrived at a public auditorium. This is where they would end this battle. The championship title would be decided here.

"Come on. Don't be shy."

Masala's grin was once again visible after the Churchill parked right at the bottom of the funnel like structure. If they were foolish enough to bear down on them, then she would earn the once upon a lifetime chance. The Churchill's climb rate was far superior to the Tigers, and she would bet all her chips on that one advantage.

Two of the Kuromorimine Tiger tanks did not take long to reach the lone Churchill as they rolled over to the edge of the auditorium. And began they spread out. This wasn't what Masala expected, but she could still see a gap. Initially they tried to shoot her from above. But the moment they attempted to lower their guns, they realized that it wasn't possible. The Churchill hugged too closely to the stairs, so firing from the top down was practically impossible. Only two choices to be taken: one to stand defenseless against the Churchill, which had enough elevation against the tanks, or charge down. Masala knew their Senshado style would not allow such a passive course of action. Of course they'd bear down on her.

And that was exactly what they did.

The Tiger II, the non-flag tank was commanded to make its advance. The tank ran over the edge, the tread began to lose balance and the entire hull slammed onto the stairs. The tank began to slide down the concrete steps, starting out small before picking up its velocity, preparing to take its seventy-ton weight onto the poor Churchill. Masala knew that if the tank hit hers with its eighty-eight now, it wouldn't even take that devastating ram to happen.

"Go Ceylon! Go!" The command was yelled clearly onto the radio. The Churchill's engine roared. The black fume vomitted from its exhaust pipe as the tank steadily climbed the stairs. Its mighty engines and its sturdy tracks carried the day. Before the Tiger II could readjust their guns to the Churchill, the Churchill had already reached the top, right near the other Tiger. The Tiger I fired in retaliation, but the shell flung violently off the Churchill's strong turret armor.

Here's her chance! Championship here she comes!

Not stopping where it was, the Churchill accelerated pass the Tiger I. The Tiger began turning in turn. But it wasn't fast enough. The Tigers did have fast turn rates if coupled with the turret, but the Churchill had the initiative. And a flat angle was all what Masala needed to pop its white flag up.

But there were merely two tanks. Something the St Gloriana's last tank commander did not anticipate.

"What?!"

All of a sudden, from a street where the Churchill just passed by, the Jagdtiger came storming at them. The two metallic hull collided like a sledgehammer on an anvil. The Churchill was pushed a dozen meters before stopping. The tracks were damaged, they could no longer move, but the Churchill's six-pounders had made it. Almost immediately after, the Tiger also caught up with its gun. The Jadgtiger also reversed and prepared itself. Three flashes, and a huge explosion engulfed the firers.

The crowds were in a heart-race. The dust cloud would clear in a matter of minutes. Would the battle continue? Or had one of the two flag tanks been neutralized? Who would bring home the 56th Senshado's Tournament's championship title?

Ceylon had no idea what just happened. She couldn't feel the engine working anymore. The pedal no longer worked. And strangely, she could smell gunpowder inside the tank. A quick check of her station she realized that the tank's hydraulic system was down. Was the tank disabled? Did they lose? Could be, but she wasn't sure if the Kuromorimine's flag tank was disabled as well, and if so was it disabled before or after hers were?

Inevitably, the cloud dust began to clear, and the fate of the tanks began to unveil…

"St Gloriana's flag tank has been disabled. The 56th Senshado Tournament's championship belongs to Kuromorimine Girls Academy!"

Crowds erupted in tears. Both of joy and disappointment. The result had never been so predictable. Kuromorimine had always been the candidate for championship, alongside Pravda. The only school other than those two to actually stand a chance was Saunders. People had been rooting for St. Gloriana to be the underdog this year, but it seemed like history repeated again.

"Damn it, we're so close!" The tank's gunner clenched her fist in anger. But then again, she couldn't afford to be so. Losing to Kuromorimine was common, and winning wasn't everything in the end. It was the values that mattered. That was what Masala had taught her. Being second place was already good enough for the school to shower them with celebrations for all week.

But unfortunately, they would get none of that.

"I admit, we were close to doing it. It's been a good run Masa-" The loader turned around over to her commander, only for her entire body to go ghost white.

Masala was leaning against her arms, which were still gripping on the hatch. Her eyes were half-closed, her breathe were almost non-existent. From the top of her forehead was a stream of red liquid oozing down her cheek. And it wasn't all. Her elegant uniform was also stained in the darker red color of blood at her waist, stomach, and shoulders. In front of her was a gaping hole on the mantlet, the protruding metal still hot. A hole that should not have been in a sport like this…

"Oh no! Masala's hurt! Call emergency frequency now!" Immediately, her three friends surrounded her.

"I'm calling I'm calling!" The loader took the radio from her commander and turned the dial into the public frequency.

"Mayday, mayday, mayday this is St. Gloriana flag tank, there is a casualty onboard! Requesting immediate medical assistance."

News spread slowly. The euphoria were shattered. An ambulance and fire truck were quickly dispatched. But it may not be quick enough…

"Masala! Can you hear me! Please wake up!"

"Ceylon please! She's unconscious! She won't answer you!"

"There is nothing we can do at this moment. The doctors will do her best. Please let her go."

"No…No...MASALA!"

…

…

…

"This is tradition, this is culture, studied by girls from around the world to hone their characters.

Studying Senshado means studying what it means to be a woman.

Hot and hard like steel. Lovable like the clatter of iron tracks. And of absolutely deadly passion like the main cannon.

Senshado makes women alike more polite, graceful, modest and gallant."

That is the upbringing that Chiyo had undergone, and indeed she had become an inspiring success story. Graduated from prestigious schools, winner of three consecutive National High School Senshado Tournament, a worthy heir to the Shimada Tankery style, not only mastered but also improved it in what could only be described as a stroke of genius. And if that was not enough, she found company in a member of the National Diet, a nice gentleman from Hokkaido. Such connections propelled her into the Japanese Senshado Federation, and now she oversaw the training of University-league Senshado candidates, ones who would show to the world the splendor of Japanese tankery.

She lived that dream that every young girl wished to perfection, but now that dream was under threat.

Chiyo put down her tablet with a blank stare. Another Senshado accident, despite in a small school in the mainlands, had attracted media attention. The participant was seriously injured and required hospitalization. Tankery always had a certain level of risk attached. In the past, this used to be sporadic, and fatalities were rare, but the growing streak appended by this recent incident had generated an alarming amount of public concern and descriptions. No matter the answers the Federation had given to everyone, concerns were hard to quell when student's lives are at stake. Regulations were demanded, but some were even so bold as to suggest abolishing Senshado altogether.

'A brutish sport of violence'

'A worrying trend of fetishizing war and death'

The tone-deafness of the denouncement left a metallic taste in Chiyo's mouth.

Being a relatively new member of the Federation, she unfortunately didn't have much leverage over some of the more conservative and stubborn members, who just had no worries whatsoever. They'd have to see the coffin for the tears to fall. Her only control she could ascertain was this university, and who would be allowed in and out here.

And here is where she would make a big gamble.

There was this guy, quite frankly unostentatious in every sense of the words at first glance. Riki Yugo was quite an unspectacular and generic name, and his demeanor during the interview said no more of the man than a green-thumb undergrad doubtful of his own competence. But like every man, beneath that surface were twists to be unveiled. For her purpose today, the twist that stood out to Chiyo about this young man was his pending degree in automotive engineering with an almost perfect performance. He applied for the safety inspector internship here a few weeks ago, 'looking for a new perspective' in his own words.

New perspectives there would be. He would be a very useful asset in this project she was pursuing.

Speeding across the country road in the middle of nowhere, Riki Yugo sat at the wheel of his Z30 Toyota. The cool summer wind combing through his short fringe hair almost lulled him into sleep. He didn't really have a good sleep last night, the suspense of his first day at work kept his chest in a tight knot. He had dropped the application, hoping nothing and expecting even less, and yet when he thought it had already been a foregone conclusion, an interview was scheduled. And yet even when he sighed in disappointment of his bumbling performance, he received his offer. omehow found himself in an awkward job he could not reasonably refuse.

'New perspective…' The interview answers resurfaced in his mind, as Riki held back a tired laugh. It was total bullshitting. In reality, he was desperate for an internship. He rushed through his schooling, and now he is a senior on third year with nothing to show for it other than a can-do attitude. He really needed this job, otherwise how in the hell was he going to land a full-time job elsewhere. He disregarded the fact that he had to drive lengthy everyday out of town, or that he would be in a position up until this point reserved for women, or that his clients would be Japan's finest splendor in the art of armored combat.

Riki's chest tightened again. No, it wasn't stressful at all…

The directional sign solely dedicated to Turtle Bay Bootcamp appeared to reassure him he was heading in the right direction. Soon, guard towers began to emerge, then the metal fences that embraced the compound. Then the vast empty plain of the two runways, the dome structure of the main building block that felt nothing like a training headquarter for Senshado practitioners, but nonetheless deserving of any finest tankers in the country.

After a quick inspection at the gate by a security guard, he was allowed through. Here, the true fish-out-of-water experience began. Like the small, sheepish, and anachronistic Toyota rolling amidst the titanic monsters of military tanks, trucks, and warplanes of the mid-twentieth century, Riki would find himself at the center of attention as he was escorted through campus towards the headmistress and his employer's office. He guessed that the gossips that began as he passed through the students was probably about him. Something nagged him at the back of his neck that not all of them were without malice, but regardless, his arrival at the headmistress's office was safely warranted.

"Come in." A mature woman voice came from inside, and the door opened. "Mr. Yugo! We've been expecting you."

She caught him still mentally preparing himself. A little flustered, Riki entered the office in the same manner as a little kid being afraid of getting scolded would.

Inside, Chiyo and a girl in the trademark white collared shirt and black tie of the All-Stars team sat; the ponytail white-haired girl turned around to meet her guest, her matching-colored dull eyes as curious as any.

"Don't be shy, make yourself comfortable." Reassured Chiyo as she gestured to the seat next to the girl. Riki nodded and followed dutifully. "You've already known me at this point but allow me to introduce myself. I am Chiyo Shimada, head of the All-Stars University Team. And this is Aurelie, the team commander. Aurelie, this is Riki Yugo. He is the new tank inspector."

"Nice to meet you!" Aurelie extended a radiant smile and a hand, the excitement palpable in the graceful flourish. "My name is actually Airi Mogami, but for reasons relating to our etiquette, please call me by my Senshado name, Aurelie."

"It's my pleasure to meet you, Aurelie." Riki accepted her handshake.

"You are not a part of the Senshado team, Mr. Yugo, but to keep it consistent with our themes per say, I'd like you to come up with a foreign name you'd like to be referred to throughout your terms here." Chiyo explained. "You don't have to come up with it now. Just let me know for review before the end of today, so we can create your name tag and access card."

"It's 1950s United Nations themes, is that correct?" Riki asked, to which both nodded. "Is it fine if I can just use Ricky? It's my English name."

"You have an English name?" Aurelie asked.

"Yeah…i-it's not obvious, but my grandfather is British. Riki Yugo is supposedly equivalent to Ricky Hugh after all." Answered Riki, his hands clasped together.

"That's fascinating…" Chiyo nodded, as she began the bureaucratic part of the meeting. "Ricky is perfect though. I will let the girls know to give you the access card by the end of today. For now, let us go through our contract together. You will be here for eight months, with the possibility of extension, working with the Safety Team to ensure our tanks, both training and non-training, are up to combat standard. Meaning carrying out regular inspection of tanks before and after a combat sortie, training personnel on safety protocols, investigate incidents, and develop new safety protocols if needed. Is that clear for you?"

"Yes ma'am." Riki, or rather Ricky, nodded.

"Your pay will come bi-weekly, except for this week, which will be counted three weeks from now. I trust that you have gone through and completed all the first day paperwork I sent you prior?" Chiyo inquired, and wordlessly, Ricky took out a stack of paper and handed over. The headmistress had a careful read. "Wow, with flying colors. I find it rare for new hires to not screw up the tax form."

Ricky looked away, rubbing his neck. "T-Thank you, ma'am?" He was unsure if that was supposed to be a compliment or a backhanded and covert 'you're weird' statement.

"They say tankery is the eighth art form that some are prodigies at. I'd include filling out forms as the ninth one, wouldn't you agree?" Aurelie stifled a laugh, making the nervous new hire even more confused. "Just messing with you. You did great! Makes our job so much easier. I'm sure Fernanda would die for someone like you to help."

"Is she part of the team?" Ricky asked.

"Yeah, you'll meet her later."

After finishing with the last page, Chiyo rearranged the paper neatly before giving Ricky a big smile. "And that's it! Let me know if you have any questions, and if not, Aurelie."

"Yes ma'am." Aurelie stood up with a salute, already knowing beforehand what she needed to do.

"Also, tell Heidi to be easy on him, ok? Good luck!"

Chiyo gave Ricky a playful wink as she concluded the meeting. 'That was reassuring indeed.' The dry thought fluttered as he picked up his bag with both hands.

"Come, I'll show you around!" Aurelie extended her hand in a beckoning gesture. Now that they both stood up, Ricky realized the height discrepancy between him and the team commander. He wasn't sure if it was his five-foot frail body that humbled him, or Aurelie was just tall, but she dwarfed him by a head. Also dwarfed him by temperament too.

"So, Ricky!" She was very quick to start a conversation. "Have you worked in Senshado before?"

"No, I haven't." Ricky replied, his voice lower and gentler. "In fact, this was my first job."

"Oh, welcome to the working world then!" Aurelie exclaimed. "I frankly didn't know much about working either, aside from the part-time job at a restaurant back in high school."

"Still a lot more than me then." Ricky joked, and Aurelie giggled along. "What did you do though?"

"I was a cook. Still am one actually!" She proudly stated. "Speaking of which, here is our cafeteria."

Quite a close distance from the headmistress's office was a gigantic room surrounded by glass panes on two sides and rows of food courts on the others. However, the place looked more akin to a high-end restaurant than cafeteria. The rows of tables for students were clothed with spotless, smooth white fabric. Chairs were well-cushioned; each individual seats were already prepared with napkins and utensils. They even had the ambience of calm piano music too! The luxurious indulgence of the students here was quite evident by the envious look on Ricky's face. They were eating good!

"Hungry, no?" Aurelie asked. "Don't worry, it's free lunch. Come by later and I'll give you a special treat."

Ricky held back the urge to drool at the mention. Free lunch at a workplace is unheard of. As well as what Aurelie just said. "You're the cook here, right?"

"Yes, I am!" She proudly laid a palm on her chest and bowed. "Just today, tomorrow, and Friday though. But Colette, the other cook, is just as good as me though, so don't worry about it."

"I've heard good things about former Maginot students when it comes to culinary arts." Ricky said.

"Oh, how did you know?" Aurelie raised her eyebrows. She never mentioned her high school, yet he was spot on.

"I kinda guessed." Laughed Ricky, rubbing his cheeks. "Aurelie is a lovely French name, and you said you're a cook, so I thought it's Maginot." He explained his reasoning, before quickly adding. "I guess there's also BC Freedom too, I forgot."

"…Impressive." Aurelie exclaimed. "No, you were correct. I was a Maginot student. I wasn't team captain back then though."

Explained why he hadn't heard anything about her. Ricky wasn't that deep into Senshado outside of watching a few matches here and there and learning some of the major school's team captains, unlike a lot of his contemporaries.

On the other hand, Aurelie was bemused by the compliment he added earlier. She'd make sure to use that as ammunition later on.

The tour went on. His last destination was the office of the Safety Team, which, compared to the rest of the buildings thus far, was rather boring. It was an ordinary white building next to the main hangars, and the interior was the exact imagination of what a corporate office looked like: white blocks of walls, cubicles, and random boardrooms here and there. The glitz and glamour of tank combat could not be applied to its bureaucracy it seemed.

"Alright, the team is not here right now, but their training should finish already, so they will be back soon." Aurelie said, counting rows and pointing Ricky to his assigned cubicle. "Get yourself comfortable, I'll let you know when they're back ok?"

"No problem." Ricky gave her a big appreciative smile. "Thank you so much for today, Aurelie."

Aurelie did not reply back, but a casual dismissive wave of her hand said it all. It was no big deal, she'd done this multiple times. It felt a little different hearing it from a guy though.

The team captain left, leaving the new hire alone in his cubicle. He tossed the bag he had been slugging with him the whole morning onto the desk and slumped onto the office chair. It was a good time to catch a break. The whole day ahead would be quite eventful.

Ricky spent the waiting period playing around with the desk height, the chair configuration, as well as spinning around in it. That's always a good trick to kill some time. Other tricks included the dramatic staring out of the windows or waltzing around the cubicles showing off terrible dance moves while no one was there. Aurelie did say soon. It had been almost twenty minutes already.

While stepping around counting tiles on the ceiling, Ricky inadvertently bumped into a glass jar on a table. The jar slid across the smooth wooden surface before almost careening off the table, spilling some of the contents out onto the floor. Thankfully, quick reflexes allowed Ricky to catch the jar by the tip of his fingers.

'Whoo.' He sighed with relief. He might as well hand in his resignation if it broke. He put the jar back onto the table and collected the items that fell out. They looked like brown flowers in the shape of an eight-point star. He thought it was fake at first, but they were crunchy and frail. He wasn't sure if these were of other colors before and had wilted or if these were how the actual flowers are. A curious choice for an ornamental plant.

"Ricky!" Aurelie's voice could be heard echoing through the cubicle halls. He looked up and saw her a distance away waving at him. It must finally be time.

He placed a hand on his chest, took a deep calming breathe, and followed suit.