Houston sat in his commander's hatch, his eyes fixed on the small war map of the island where they would be stationed for the next year. The American team, under his leadership, was en route to the carriers that would transport their tanks. The boys would take a cruiser, passing by the city of Port Texas.

Upon reaching the port, the sight was impressive. Teams from other high schools, including North, Grand Lake, Washington, and Kansas, were already there, standing in formation. Their tanks were lined up, and the boys, with airsoft weapons slung over their right shoulders, stood at attention.

The commanders from each high school gathered at a small podium as the tanks were being loaded. Houston, wearing his Marshal Commander uniform with a bandana wrapped around his forehead, its twin tails fluttering in the wind, stood confidently. Beside him was Commander Muller in his Wehrmacht Tankery uniform, complete with a commander's hat. Commander Graham, in his Marine Raider uniform, maintained a serious demeanor despite his Hollywood reputation. The last two commanders were Major Welsey, dressed in a British officer uniform, and Elijah, who wore a regular commander uniform but had Indian war paint adorning his face.

Overlooking the scene, numerous official members of the American Tankery League observed the proceedings with keen interest. Among them was Delia, Houston's aunt, dressed in her chairwoman suit. As she watched, a look of worry crossed her face as her eyes fell on her nephew.

After a while, once the tanks were fully loaded onto the carriers, the infantry began boarding their own separate naval carrier. Boys waved goodbye to their families, and among them was Houston, standing by the ship's railing. He spotted his aunt in the crowd, her worried expression clear even from a distance.

Houston raised his hand, giving her a final wave of goodbye. Delia returned the wave, a mixture of pride and concern evident in her eyes. The ship slowly pulled away from the port, and the figures on the shore grew smaller until they disappeared entirely into the distance, the horizon ahead marking the beginning of their journey.

As they sailed away from Port Texas, Houston turned to his tank loader, Grant, while the rest of his crew—Scott, Troy, and Machine—sat around, enjoying the view. Houston tossed a cassette tape to Grant. "Grant, play us a good song from my tape," he said.

Grant caught the tape and inserted it into the WALKMAN on the table. Soon, the opening chords of "Magic Carpet Ride" by Steppenwolf filled the air. "Oh yeah, this will work," Houston said, a satisfied grin spreading across his face as he walked away, the music lifting everyone's spirits.

Time skip The Island of Oshima

The scene shifted to the serene yet strategic island of Oshima. The music transitioned into the background as the ramp of a cruiser was lowered, revealing Miho Nishizumi and her team of schoolgirls disembarking. They had arrived on the island where they would face the American team in a much-anticipated match. The tanks from both sides were scheduled to arrive the next day, as officials had decided it would be more efficient to transport all the tanks on a single carrier and the students on a cruiser due to the large number of participants.

Miho led her team towards their designated quarters, which were comfortable hotel rooms reserved for their stay. The girls chatted excitedly, their anticipation mingling with the fresh island air. They knew that the following day would bring challenges, but for now, they focused on settling in and preparing mentally for the upcoming match.

(You can stop the music here if you want to)

students from different schools and countries were restricted from exploring certain parts of the island due to match regulations. The two towns designated for supplying each team separately were off-limits.

"So, Miho, which bed do you want?" Saori asked as she settled down her bag.

"I'm fine with whichever. I'll let you guys choose your beds first," Miho replied, still holding her bag.

Saori dropped her stuff, consisting of a backpack, suitcase, and carry-ons, on her chosen side of the room. Yukari placed her bag on her bed, while Mako, already exhausted, fell face-first onto her bed and immediately dozed off.

"Good night, y'all," Mako mumbled into her pillow.

"But it's just barely one in the afternoon," Hana remarked as she set down her bag.

"Well, we do have a free day today while our tanks arrive tomorrow. Today, we choose our five Team Commanders, and we also meet the American Commanders, who have already chosen their Marshal Commander," Miho explained to her crew.

"So, when are you going?" Saori asked.

"In a few minutes, actually. We wanted to get it done so we could maximize the time for organizing the tanks," Miho replied.

"Don't worry about your stuff; we can set everything up while you're away," Hana offered.

"Thanks, you guys," Miho said, smiling appreciatively.

"Good luck with that, Miho," Mako mumbled, her voice muffled by the pillow.

Miho left the room and headed downstairs. Most of the girls who had already signed into the hotel went to their respective rooms, while some lingered in the lobby or explored the hotel. Miho found an empty bench and sat down, waiting for the other Commanders to arrive.

As she waited, Miho's mind wandered to the upcoming match. This situation was new and daunting; they were facing some of America's best schools. The island, now mostly evacuated by its 60,000 residents, was ready for the large-scale event. The financial cost of the match was significant, but the Federation and American Tankery League had ample funds. Despite her nervousness, Miho was lost in thought about the match's potential challenges when suddenly...

"Well, if it isn't Mishosha," a familiar voice spoke out.

Miho turned to see Katyusha, Nonna, and Klara standing a few feet away. Nonna was giving Katyusha a piggyback ride as they approached Miho.

"Hello Katyusha, Nonna, and Klara," Miho greeted them warmly.

"Hello, Miho," Nonna replied.

"Zdravstvuyte," Klara greeted in Russian.

"Good to see you here. Are you ready to meet the Yankees?" Katyusha asked with a mischievous smile.

"Well, I don't know... We haven't faced them before. This is our first time meeting them. Have you finished unpacking your stuff in your room?" Miho asked.

"Yep! Katyusha is the fastest and the first one to unpack on this island," Katyusha declared, pointing to herself.

"You just threw your suitcase on your bed and left the room," Nonna corrected, causing Katyusha to look at her in embarrassment.

"N-no I didn't!" Katyusha stammered.

As Katyusha tried to brush off the embarrassment, another girl commander, wearing a U.S. Army tanker jacket with the zipper open, walked up to them.

"Hey girls, how've you been?" Kay called out, waving as she approached.

"I'm doing fine, Kay. Hi, Alisa, Naomi," Miho replied.

"Hey, Miho. It's good to see you," Alisa answered.

Naomi simply waved to Miho. Another voice spoke up as more commanders joined the gathering. It was Darjeeling, accompanied by Pekoe and Assam.

"Hello everyone. I see we have everyone here?" Darjeeling asked, sipping her tea.

"Well, not everyone..." Miho replied.

"Good to see you again, tea drinkers," Kay greeted.

"Good to see you too, Kay. So, Miho, were you waiting for us long?" Darjeeling inquired.

"Well, no... Not really," Miho responded.

"I guess we're the last ones to arrive," a familiar voice spoke out.

Miho turned to see her older sister Maho and Erika joining the group.

"Hi, Maho and Erika," Miho greeted them.

After a few minutes of waiting for other school's commanders to show up, the debate on who would be Marshal Commander and Major Commanders began. The girls had already decided that Miho, Kay, Katyusha, and Darjeeling would be Major Commanders, while Maho would remain as the Marshal Commander for their team.. 

The American commanders were gathered in a meeting room, waiting for Houston's arrival. Commander Muller glanced at his watch, his expression a mix of impatience and concern. Commander Welsey struggled to stay awake, finding the wait unbearably boring. The room was filled with an air of restless anticipation.

Meanwhile, on the American Side

"Jesus... Where is he?" Graham muttered, looking around in frustration.

"Just give him some time. I'm sure he has a good reason for being late," Elijah responded, trying to keep a positive outlook.

The boys exchanged glances, some tapping their feet or drumming fingers on the table. The wait felt interminable.

Houston was in his office, completely absorbed in dancing and singing along to his mixtape. The song "You Spin Me Right 'Round" by Dead or Alive blared from his speakers as he moved energetically to the beat.

"... You spin me right 'round, baby, right 'round Like a record, baby, right 'round, 'round, 'round You spin me right 'round, baby, right 'round Like a record, baby, right 'round, 'round, 'round," Houston sang loudly, clearly enjoying himself.

Outside his office, his crew—Grant, Troy, Scott, and Machine—were peeking in, recording his impromptu dance session and struggling to hold back their laughter.

"Should we tell him that the other commanders are waiting for him?" Machine asked the others.

"In a bit... This is golden. Finally seeing him dance alone in his office," Scott replied, grinning.

"All I know is that to me You look like you're lots of fun Open up your lovin' arms Watch out, here I come—HEY!" Houston continued, until he noticed his crew watching him.

"Oh shit, run!" Grant shouted as they all scattered.

After his dance session, Houston finally arrived at the meeting and announced the Major Commanders for the American tankery boys: Muller, Welsey, Graham, and Elijah.

"And yeah, that's our meeting today. Tomorrow we'll get our tanks, so make sure once they arrive, have your crews or teams ready. I don't want to see or hear about any tanks having mechanical failures, alright? Okay, with that out of the way, Majors, you will be coming with me to meet our opponents. Once I dismiss everyone, you guys follow me, and we'll take the truck to meet the girls' team. Any questions?" Houston asked, looking around the room.

Seeing no questions, Houston dismissed the commanders. He and the Majors then walked to a military truck, which transported them to meet the Federation's commanders.

As the truck rolled along, Muller glanced at his watch. "We're late..."

"Let's just hope we don't keep the girls waiting," Graham said, as they approached the convoy.

The area was heavily guarded by Houston's Rangers, Muller's Wehrmacht Grenadiers, and Graham's Marine Raiders Infantry. The American commanders got into their assigned vehicles, and Sergeant Dean, Commander Houston's third-in-command of Davy Crockett, radioed the security team.

"Lone Star in. We are on the move," Dean radioed all teams, getting into the leading Humvee as they started moving.

The girls' commanders waited near a high mountain line on the outskirts of Nomashi's territory. Miho brought Anzu because she was the President of Ooarai. Maho brought Erika, Katyusha had Nonna, Darjeeling brought Pekoe, and Kay brought Alisa. They were all there to meet the American team commanders.

Still feeling nervous about meeting the American commanders, Miho tried not to overthink the situation. She wondered how the Americans had chosen their commanders from the fifty states, but the sound of the truck engine snapped her back to reality. The truck stopped, and out stepped Albert Muller, followed by another boy. Welsey Cutter brought his trusted companion, Ike Jaylon Graham chose one of his boys, Elijah Quil and his Vice Commander joined, and finally, Don Houston and his Vice Commander Jefferson exited the truck, surprising everyone except Maho.

The commanders from both sides approached each other, while two officials from the Sensha-Do Federation and the American Tankery League stood by their respective teams.

Elijah was the first to speak, trying to break the ice. "Well, if we're done staring at each other, I guess I'll speak... Ahem Hello, ladies. It's good to meet our opponents face to face when we—"

"After we kick your Japanese asses for trying to take away our sport, you Tojo F—" Graham interrupted, sliding his hair back and trying to keep his style in check, his voice filled with anger.

Houston quickly elbowed Graham in the ribs, glaring at him to shut up. Graham quieted down, not wanting to further anger Houston.

"Ignore what he said. I'm Marshal Commander Don Houston from Davy Crockett High," Houston introduced himself.

"I'm Major Commander Elijah from Kansas Chief High School," Elijah added.

"The name is Welsey Cutter, Major Commander from Washington Academy High," Welsey said.

"Do I have to say it?" Graham asked his fellow commanders, receiving a stern glare from Houston. "Okay, I'll say it... Name's Graham, Major Commander from Grand Lake High and international star. Just keep away from my camera," he said, taking a selfie.

"Hello, I'm Major Commander Muller, and I'm from North High School," Muller concluded.

Miho, gathering her courage, introduced herself next. "I'm Miho Nishizumi, Major Commander from Ooarai Girls Academy."

Following Miho, each of the girls introduced themselves:

"Anzu Kadotani, President of Ooarai Girls Academy," Anzu said.

"Maho Nishizumi, Marshal Commander from Kuromorimine Girls Academy," Maho stated firmly.

"Erika Itsumi, Vice Commander of Kuromorimine," Erika added.

"Katyusha, Major Commander from Pravda High School, and this is Nonna, my Vice Commander," Katyusha said, gesturing to Nonna.

"Darjeeling, Major Commander from St. Gloriana Girls College, and this is Pekoe, my Vice Commander," Darjeeling introduced.

"Kay, Major Commander from Saunders University High School, and this is Alisa, my Vice Commander," Kay said with a friendly wave.

"Aren't you the cutest thing I've ever seen? You remind me of my little sister," Welsey pointed out to Katyusha.

Katyusha, not pleased with Welsey's comment, turned to Nonna and, as usual, was lifted onto Nonna's back for a piggyback ride. 

The sight caused a ripple of amusement among the group, with Houston struggling to keep a straight face.

Houston: 

https://youtu.be/Z4MoEsYqrxQ

Clearing his throat, Houston stepped aside to let out a huge burst of laughter, the loudest he'd had in a while. Once he composed himself, he returned and quickly apologized.

"So, Commander Houston, is it? Tell me, how do you prepare your tanks and manage to keep them freshly painted?" Kay asked.

"That is... classified," Houston responded, his tone serious.

"Yeah, hopefully, you girls don't take our sport," Elijah added, his voice tinged with defiance.

Erika, frowning, glanced at the Americans. She spoke to Maho in German, unaware that Muller understood every word.

"Ich glaube nicht, dass diese Amerikaner geeignet sind, uns gegenüberzutreten," Erika said.

"Sie wollen das auf Englisch sagen?" Muller responded in German, surprising Erika.

Realizing Muller spoke German, Erika stiffened. Muller chuckled and switched to English. "You know, I was born in Germany before moving to America, so don't think I don't know what you're talking about."

Houston, catching on, asked, "So, what did she say in German, Krauts?"

"She said that we aren't fit to face them," Muller answered, crossing his arms.

"Figures," Houston said with a shrug.

Katyusha, still on Nonna's back, eyed the Americans defiantly. "We'll see about that. We've trained hard and we're ready for this."

Darjeeling, ever the diplomat, stepped forward. "Regardless of the initial impressions, let's remember that we're here to compete fairly and honorably. Both sides have their strengths, and this will be a match to remember."

"So, why are we standing here? Are we just going to stare at each other or what?" Graham asked, clearly impatient.

"You know this is our official greeting, right, Graham?" Wesley reminded him.

"Oh right... I forgot," Graham replied sheepishly.

"That's right. We know the match doesn't begin for five days, so we hope this gives the leading commanders a chance to meet each other before the match starts," the Sensha-Do official explained.

"Right, let's get this on. I've got important stuff to do," Houston said, clearly eager to move things along.

"Students, bow/salute," the officials from both teams instructed the commanders.

Both teams bowed and saluted each other before parting ways, except for Houston and Maho, who stood facing each other. Houston raised his hand toward her, but before anything could happen, the sound of airsoft gunfire erupted in the distance.

Sergeant Dean and the other Rangers immediately responded. "Protect the Boss!" Dean shouted as he tried to get confirmation from Team 3 of the other Rangers. The Rangers protecting Houston quickly aimed their airsoft M1 Garands at the girls, moving Houston back to a safe distance.

Maho reacted swiftly, signaling Erika and the other girls to stay calm. "It's probably just a drill or a misunderstanding," Maho said, maintaining her composure.

Houston, now shielded by his Rangers, raised his hand to signal them to hold their fire. "Stand down, it's probably nothing serious," he ordered.

Dean, still cautious, radioed in for more information. "Team 3, report. What's the situation?"

Team 3 responded over the radio, reporting they were under fire from a group of infiltrators. The situation escalated rapidly as everyone scrambled to understand what was happening.

"Team 3, report!" Dean barked into his radio.

"Team 3 here, we're engaging the infiltrators. They seem to be using airsoft weapons, but their tactics are aggressive. Requesting reinforcements," came the reply.

n the thick of the firefight, Team 3's Rangers took cover behind a low wall, their airsoft M1 Garands at the ready. The sound of airsoft gunfire filled the air as they returned fire, aiming at the silhouettes of the infiltrators moving through the trees and buildings nearby.

"Contact left! Ten o'clock!" shouted Corporal Jenkins, popping up briefly to fire a burst before ducking back down.

"Got it! Cover me!" Private Rodriguez yelled back, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene.

Jenkins nodded and leaned out from cover, providing suppressive fire as Rodriguez moved to a better position. The enemy infiltrators were aggressive, their tactics coordinated and precise, but the Rangers held their ground, determined to protect their commander and teammates.

Suddenly, an infiltrator emerged from cover and hurled a makeshift powder pipe bomb towards the Rangers. The device landed with a thud and exploded, sending a cloud of powder into the air and knocking Jenkins and Rodriguez off their feet.

"Shit! What the hell was that?" Jenkins coughed, trying to regain his bearings.

Rodriguez, disoriented and struggling to stand, shouted back, "Who the fuck are these guys?"

As the smoke began to clear, the infiltrators pressed their advantage, advancing towards the disoriented Rangers. Jenkins shook his head, trying to focus, and raised his rifle to return fire.

With more Rangers arriving, one of them brought in Humvees, which they used for cover as they pushed forward. The distinctive sound of an airsoft .50 cal machine gun mounted on one of the Humvees added to the chaos, providing suppressive fire and helping to push the infiltrators back.

"Keep moving! Use the Humvees for cover!" Sergeant Dean shouted, directing the Rangers to advance.

As the Rangers pressed on, another pipe bomb was thrown by the infiltrators. This time, it hit one of the Humvees, resulting in a loud explosion that injured both the driver and the machine gunner.

"I'm hit!" the driver cried out, clutching his injured leg.

"Get me the hell out of here!" the machine gunner shouted, covering his broken arm as blood dripped down.

"Cover fire, now!" Dean ordered.

Rodriguez, despite the pain from his previous injuries, laid down suppressing fire to cover the extraction of the wounded. His shots were precise, forcing the infiltrators to stay in cover and giving his teammates the time they needed.

"Hang in there!" Jenkins shouted, helping to drag the injured to safety. "We've got you!"

As they managed to pull the injured Rangers behind a secure position, Rodriguez noticed another powder pipe bomb flying towards him. His eyes widened in realization, and he shouted a curse just as it exploded near him, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"Rodriguez!" Jenkins screamed, rushing over to his fallen friend.

Rodriguez was severely injured, struggling to stay conscious as the pain from the explosion overwhelmed him. Blood soaked his uniform, and shrapnel had torn into his side.

"Medic! We need a medic here, now!" Jenkins called out, desperation in his voice.

One of the medics quickly arrived, starting to administer first aid to Rodriguez. 

The firefight raged on as the Rangers continued to push back the infiltrators. The sound of airsoft gunfire and shouted commands filled the air.

"Suppressing fire on the left flank! Keep them pinned!" Dean ordered, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Jenkins, you and Rodriguez hold this position. I'm going to flank them from the side and see if I can get a better look at who we're dealing with."

"Roger that, Sergeant!" Jenkins responded, keeping up his fire on the advancing infiltrators.

Dean moved quickly and stealthily, using the cover of the trees and terrain to his advantage. As he got closer to the side of the enemy position, he crouched low and advanced, his eyes scanning for any signs of movement. He could hear the distinct sound of airsoft rounds whizzing past and the occasional explosion of powder pipe bombs.

As Dean reached a vantage point, he peered through the foliage and was stunned by what he saw. The infiltrators were not foreign soldiers or unknown assailants; they were girls dressed in the uniforms of one of the Federation schools. He recognized the distinct colors and insignia immediately.

"What the hell...?" Dean muttered to himself, trying to process the betrayal. "Traitors..."

He watched as the girls, clearly part of the Ranger's own team, used their airsoft weapons and handmade powder pipe bombs to assault Team 3. It was clear they had planned this attack, taking advantage of their insider knowledge.

Dean's mind raced as he considered his next move. He couldn't simply fire on them without revealing his position, but he also couldn't let this treachery go unchallenged. He quietly radioed back to Jenkins.

"Jenkins, I've got eyes on the enemy. You're not going to believe this, but it's some of our own girls. They're wearing Federation school uniforms and using our tactics against us. We need to handle this carefully."

"Roger that, Sergeant. What's the plan?" Jenkins replied, trying to keep his cool despite the shocking revelation.

"Keep up the suppressing fire. I'm going to try and get closer, see if I can identify their leader and maybe cut the head off this snake," Dean instructed, his determination clear in his voice.

"Understood, Sergeant. Be careful out there," Jenkins responded, his concern evident.

Dean moved even closer, taking advantage of the confusion and noise of the ongoing battle. He kept low, blending into the shadows as he approached the position where the girls seemed to be coordinating their attack. As he got closer, he could hear snippets of their conversation.

"Keep up the pressure! We can't let them regroup!" one of the girls shouted, her voice commanding and confident.

Dean checked his airsoft Thompson, ensuring it was ready, and opened fire, knocking one of the infiltrators to the ground. The girls quickly shifted their focus to Dean's position, their airsoft rifles spitting plastic BBs in his direction. Dean ducked behind cover, returning fire as best he could. The sound of the firefight was deafening.

A nearby non-lethal pipe bomb landed with a clatter. Dean's eyes widened as he saw it and scrambled to move, but the blast threw him back to the ground. The force of the explosion left him momentarily disoriented, his ears ringing.

"We are getting slaughtered out here!" one of the Rangers cried out, panic evident in his voice.

The tide of battle seemed to turn as reinforcements arrived. More Werhmacht boys, members of Muller's unit, rushed in to support the embattled Rangers. They carried their airsoft MP-40s and Kar98s, spreading out to provide covering fire.

"Hold the line! Get our wounded to safety!" one of the Werhmacht boys shouted, taking charge of the chaotic situation.

The combined firepower of the Rangers and Werhmacht boys began to push back the infiltrators. Those not engaged in direct combat focused on dragging the injured to safety. The humvees, now serving as makeshift cover, became rallying points for the defenders.

Dean, shaking off the effects of the explosion, got back to his feet. He joined the Werhmacht boys in laying down suppressing fire, focusing on the remaining infiltrators who were now caught between two fronts.

"Dean, we need to fall back and regroup!" shouted Jenkins, still holding his position with a small group of Rangers.

"Negative! We push forward and finish this!" Dean yelled back, his determination unwavering. He saw a few of the girls retreating, realizing the tables had turned against them.

As the Rangers and Werhmacht boys pushed forward, bolstered by additional manpower, they encountered fierce resistance. The infiltrators, desperate and cornered, hurled another non-lethal pipe bomb. The explosion knocked several defenders off their feet, injuring more of them as chaos reigned.

The situation grew dire as more infiltrators poured in, encircling the remaining defenders. The sounds of airsoft gunfire and shouted commands filled the air. The defenders, realizing they were outnumbered and outmaneuvered, braced for the worst.

Suddenly, the intercom crackled to life, and Houston's voice boomed through the speakers, carrying a message of authority and finality.

"Attention hostile force, you are surrounded. Escape is impossible. Lay down your weapons immediately. Surrender now, and you will not be fired upon."

The infiltrators hesitated, their weapons still raised but their resolve visibly wavering. The air was thick with tension as both sides waited to see what would happen next.

Dean, still recovering from the blast, took advantage of the pause. "You heard the man! Drop your weapons and surrender!" he shouted, his voice carrying over the battlefield.

The infiltrators exchanged uncertain glances. The reality of their situation was sinking in—they were trapped, with no viable escape route and facing overwhelming force.

Slowly, one by one, the infiltrators began to lower their weapons. The tension eased as the defenders watched cautiously. More voices from the defenders called out, urging the infiltrators to comply.

"Do as he says! You won't be harmed!" another Ranger shouted, echoing Houston's promise.

With their options exhausted, the remaining infiltrators reluctantly placed their airsoft rifles on the ground and raised their hands in surrender. The defenders moved in, securing the area and ensuring the safety of both the captured infiltrators and their own injured comrades.

As the last of the infiltrators were disarmed, Dean radioed back to command. "This is Dean. The hostiles have surrendered. Area secure."

"Copy that, Dean," came the response. "Good work. We'll send a team to process the prisoners and tend to the wounded."

Dean took a deep breath, relieved that the immediate threat had passed. He turned to the Werhmacht boys and the remaining Rangers. "Let's get our injured some help and regroup. We need to figure out who these infiltrators are and why they attacked us."

As they began to secure the prisoners and tend to the wounded, the gravity of the situation settled in. The betrayal, the ambush, and the fierce fight had left its mark on everyone involved. But for now, they had a moment of respite to regroup and plan their next steps.

A few minutes later, Houston and Jefferson walked toward Sergeant Dean, who was taking a moment to catch his breath after the chaos. Dean saw them approaching and quickly saluted.

"Boss," Dean greeted.

"What's the situation?" Houston asked.

"We've taken heavy casualties, sir. Luckily, those pipe bombs were non-lethal. However, one of the bombs was lethal by accident, and we've got one man undergoing surgery by Ben right now," Dean explained, pointing to a nearby medical tent. Inside, Ben was putting on his gloves and mask, preparing to operate on Rodrgeniuz's severely injured leg.

"Who attacked us?" Jefferson asked.

"One of our own," Dean replied, motioning for his commanders to follow him to the holding cell. Inside, they saw a group of American-Japanese girls wearing school uniforms from Kuromorimine Girls Academy and other Japanese schools that participate in Sensha-Do.

Jefferson's face twisted in disgust. "Sir, we need to punish them," he said to Houston.

"I know, but we're not going to do a firing squad," Houston replied as he walked into the room.

Inside the holding area, Houston stood in front of the cell with his arms crossed. "Well, it turns out your defection didn't work out, did it?" he said.

None of the girls responded. Houston sighed and leaned against a nearby wall. "You know, there's one thing I want to know. Why? Why now?" he asked.

"Because you Americans don't understand what Sensha-Do is about," one of the girls said defiantly.

Houston raised an eyebrow, his expression hardening. "Is that so? And attacking your own people, using non-lethal and accidental lethal bombs—that's your way of showing us what Sensha Do is about?"

The girl's face flushed with anger. "You focus too much on the sport and not enough on the honor, the tradition. Sensha Do is more than just winning matches; it's about discipline, respect, and history. You turn it into a spectacle, a game, without understanding its deeper meaning."

Houston's eyes narrowed. "And you think betrayal and violence are the ways to teach us that? You've put lives at risk, and for what? Some misguided sense of superiority?"

Another girl stepped forward, her expression solemn. "We never meant to hurt anyone seriously. The pipe bombs were supposed to be non-lethal, just to make a statement. We didn't know one would turn out lethal."

Jefferson stepped closer, his anger evident. "A statement? You've made your statement loud and clear: that you're willing to turn on your own comrades, to throw away loyalty and trust. What happens next is on you."

Houston held up a hand to calm Jefferson. "Look, I get it. You feel like we're not respecting the traditions of Sensha Do. But this isn't the way to handle it. We could have had discussions, found common ground. Instead, you've created a mess that we all have to clean up."

The girls exchanged uneasy glances, realizing the gravity of their actions.

"So, what happens now?" one of them asked quietly.

Houston looked at the group, his expression stern. "Here's what will happen now. You have two options: I could court-martial you, and you would likely be sentenced to a firing squad, carried out by my deeply loyal Rangers who I trained back at Vermont Tankery Academy. Or, you can be shipped off this island. I will inform the other Rangers in charge at the school to gather your belongings, and you will be expelled from my tankery team and my school."

He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in. "So, what's it going to be? Firing squad or the boat?" Houston asked again, his gaze unwavering as he looked at the traitors.

The girls in the cell looked at each other, their faces pale and expressions filled with a mix of fear and regret. The severity of Houston's words weighed heavily on them. They had underestimated the consequences of their actions and now faced a harsh reality.

One of the girls, the same one who had spoken about Sensha Do's deeper meaning, stepped forward with a determined look. "We'll take the boat. We don't belong here anymore."

Houston nodded, his face stern. "Very well. You've made your choice. Sergeant Dean, arrange for their immediate transport off the island. Make sure they're escorted directly to the mainland and handed over to the proper authorities."

Dean saluted. "Yes, sir. I'll see to it right away."

As Houston and Jefferson watched Dean and his team escort the traitors away, Houston couldn't shake the gravity of the situation. He turned to Jefferson with a thoughtful expression.

"You know, Jefferson, this reminds me of what my great-great-grandfather, Sam Houston, once said about traitors," Houston began, his voice tinged with reflection. "He said, 'Texas will again lift its head and stand among the nations. It ought to do so, for no country upon the globe can compare with it in natural advantages. My policy, then, was to leave them to themselves and see whether they could not better govern themselves than I could govern them.'"

Jefferson listened attentively, recognizing the weight behind Houston's words. "It's true, sir," he replied. "Handling internal conflict and betrayal requires strength and wisdom. Just as your ancestor believed in the power of self-governance, we must trust in the principles of honor and discipline within our team."

Houston nodded thoughtfully. "Exactly. We can't control others' actions, but we can uphold our values and lead by example. Our responsibility is to ensure that our team remains united and focused, despite challenges like this."

Jefferson nodded thoughtfully. "It's true, sir. Loyalty and honor are what keep us together as a team, as a family. Those girls forgot that."

Houston sighed. "Indeed. And as much as I hate to see this division among us, we have to remember that our values are non-negotiable. Our ancestors fought for principles we hold dear, and we can't let them be undermined."

Dean returned after securing the traitors, his expression grave. "Sir, the girls are on their way to the mainland. They'll be handed over to the authorities as soon as we reach port."

"Good work, Dean," Houston replied, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "Make sure the rest of the team knows what happened here today. We need to remain vigilant."

Dean saluted and turned to relay the orders to the remaining Rangers. As he left, Houston glanced out at the sea, the breeze carrying the weight of the day's events.

"Let's focus on preparing for the match," Jefferson suggested, breaking the silence. "We can't afford any distractions."

Houston nodded, his mind already turning to the challenges ahead.