Past the day when Houston started his Private Military Company.

It then shows many of the former high schoolers who were in Davy Crockett and those who were in Vermont Tankery Academy as boys who were infantry and tankers when they were in school, happily talking to each other.

However, their talking ceases as they hear Dean's voice echo out of the assembly arena, calling for attention. Once it quiets down, all that echoes is the sound of footsteps, showing Houston walking to the podium on the stage.

As he grabs the microphone, Houston looks at everyone in the room and those behind him. Red, his younger brother, stands behind him along with Vice Commander Jefferson and Lieutenant Shadow, who is wearing her mask, all standing at attention.

"We will forsake our countries... We will leave our motherlands behind us and become one with this earth. We have no nation, no philosophy, no ideology. We go where we're needed, fighting not for country, not for government, but for ourselves. We need no reason to fight. We fight because we are needed. We will be the deterrent for those with no other recourse. We are soldiers without borders, our purpose defined by the era we live in. We will sometimes have to sell ourselves and our services. If the times demand it, we'll be revolutionaries, criminals, terrorists.

And yes, we may all be headed straight to hell... But what better place for us than this? It's our only home. Our heaven and our hell.... This is...."

"...Our Outer Heaven..."

The Day Houston Was Buried: Oakwood Cemetery, Texas

The funeral of Don Houston took place under the somber skies of Oakwood Cemetery. Red stood with a heavy heart, watching as his older brother's coffin was lowered into the ground. The rain fell relentlessly, mingling with the tears of those gathered to say their final goodbyes. Red's gaze shifted to Maho, who held their twin daughters close. Aiko clung to her mother, sobbing uncontrollably, while Emily stood silently, her eyes fixed on the coffin as it descended, the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance.

Present Day

Eighteen-year-old Emily Houston woke with a groan, the weight of sleepiness still heavy on her. She glanced out the window, seeing the never-ending rain that had become a familiar sight outside the Houston Mansion. With a sigh, she got out of bed, determined to face the day ahead. Before heading to the shower, she grabbed her father's old Walkman and pressed play. The mixtape inside began to play Duran Duran's "Invisible," the music filling her room.

As the song of "Invisible" played in the background, Emily methodically prepared for her day. She took a quick shower, the water washing away the remnants of sleep. She then dressed in her Davy Crockett High School uniform, the familiarity of the routine providing a small comfort. Emily brushed her hair, tied it back, and put on her shoes, all the while listening to the song that had once been her father's favorite. She grabbed her backpack, checked her reflection in the mirror one last time, and headed downstairs, ready to face whatever the day had in store for her.

Emily walked through the halls of the mansion, the echoes of the song still playing in her ears, reminding her of her father's legacy and the strength she needed to carry on.

Emily walked alone, the rain pattering softly on her umbrella. Her thoughts wandered to what school would be like today. She didn't want to be the Tankery Commander of Davy Crockett High. The expectations to live up to her father's legend weighed heavily on her, and she still harbored resentment from her childhood, when he was always leaving for his mercenary business.

As she arrived at school, her close friend, Jessica, greeted her with a cheerful wave. Emily responded with a casual nod, her face betraying little emotion.

"Hey, Emily! Ready for another exciting day at Davy Crockett High?" Jessica asked, her tone light and friendly.

"Morning, Jess," Emily replied, her voice flat. "Yeah, another day."

Jessica noticed her friend's mood and frowned slightly. "You okay? You seem a bit off."

Emily sighed, adjusting her grip on the umbrella. "Just thinking, you know? About school, Tankery, all of it. I don't want to be like him."

Jessica's expression softened. "You don't have to be like him, Emily. You're your own person. Just because he was a legend doesn't mean you have to follow in his footsteps."

"I know," Emily said quietly, looking down at the ground. "It's just... everyone expects me to be this great commander because of who my dad was. But I hated how he was always gone. I don't want that life."

Jessica put a comforting hand on Emily's shoulder. "You can do whatever you want. You don't have to be the Tankery Commander if it doesn't make you happy."

Emily managed a small smile. "Thanks, Jess. I needed to hear that."

They continued walking together, the rain still falling around them, but Emily felt a little lighter, knowing she had a friend who understood.

"Before I continue, let me introduce myself... I'm Emily Houston, the second twin daughter of Don Houston and Maho Nishizumi. And I know you all are wondering, 'Emily, how did your father meet Maho?' Well, it all began with the first match on Oshima Island..."

Flashback

The scene shifts to a vivid memory, showing Houston and Maho facing each other for the first time as opponents. It was the American Tankery League versus the Sensha-Do Federation. Houston raised his hand in greeting to Maho, their eyes locking in mutual respect despite being on opposing sides.

The next scene reveals a later encounter. Houston, on a stealth rescue mission, saved his Vice Commander Jefferson and others after the fall of Alamo 2.0. This operation brought Houston and Maho together again.

"The two grew close after my father saved his friends. But then, my father broke up with my mother just so he could face Anderson, his old Commander from his former school, Vermont Tankery Academy."

Another flashback shows Houston and Anderson, both wearing old uniforms, their faces and bodies bruised and bleeding from an intense fistfight. They slowly rise to their feet, giving loud battle cries.

"ANDERSON!!" Houston shouted.

"HOUSTON!!!" Anderson shouted in response.

"After my father finished off Anderson, who died from an unknown heart attack, he tried to kill himself, thinking his so-called 'mission' was over. But he was wrong. My grandfather convinced him that he had a full life he could live without fighting. Houston accepted this until he returned to the island to stop the arranged wedding that my mother was about to have.

Luckily, my father stopped the wedding. If I had been there or born during that time, I think it would have been beautiful. But who knows?" Emily thought to herself.

Continuing on, Emily reflected on her mother, Maho Nishizumi. "My mother, Maho, comes from the prestigious Nishizumi family, renowned in the world of Sensha-Do. She was the commander of the Kuromorimine Girls' Academy tankery team and led them to numerous victories. Known for her stoic demeanor and strict adherence to the Nishizumi style, she was a formidable commander. However, beneath that tough exterior, she cared deeply for her team and the traditions of Sensha-Do. Her relationship with my father showed a different side of her, revealing her capacity for love and personal sacrifice. Despite their differences and the challenges they faced, their bond endured, shaping the person I am today."

As Emily walked to school, these memories and thoughts swirled in her mind. She knew the legacy she carried, but she also knew she had the strength to forge her own path.

Emily continued to struggle internally as she walked to school. Her thoughts shifted to her older twin sister, Aiko, who had gone to their mother's school and become an S-Rank commander, proudly carrying the Nishizumi family name. Aiko's achievements weighed heavily on Emily, who felt a deep yearning to carry on their mother's legacy but was conflicted by her own identity. She judged herself harshly, feeling she should carry her father's family name instead, a name tainted by dark history.

She remembered the haunting stories about her grandfather's cloning program, Les Enfants Terribles, which produced two clones of her father and uncle: Sienna and George Houston. The tragic tale of Sienna's death at her father's hands played vividly in Emily's mind.

Flashback

On Oshima Island, the scene showed a young Don Houston facing his clone sister, Sienna, in a brutal knife fight. The clash was intense, filled with raw emotion and the desperate need to survive. Sienna moved with deadly precision, but Don's determination to protect those he loved pushed him forward. The fight ended with Don plunging his knife into Sienna, a moment of profound sorrow and regret etched on his face.

The memory shifted to the fate of George Houston, the other clone. Emily envisioned the battle where her uncle Red and aunt Miho faced George. Red, injured and struggling, fought fiercely alongside Miho. The decisive moment came when Miho, holding Red's sword, delivered the killing blow, slicing George's back and ending the fight.

Present Day

Emily's heart ached with the weight of these memories. She wanted to honor both sides of her family but felt trapped by the darkness associated with the Houston name. She questioned if she was worthy of carrying the Nishizumi legacy, especially when compared to her sister's success.

"I wish I could be like Aiko," Emily thought to herself. "She's everything our mother hoped for, a perfect commander. But me... I'm just haunted by our family's past. How can I honor my mother when my father's name is stained with so much blood and pain?"

As she continued walking, Emily knew she had to find a way to reconcile these parts of her identity. The rain continued to pour, matching the storm inside her heart, but she pressed on, determined to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Arriving at school, Jessica noticed the turmoil in Emily's eyes. "Emily, what's wrong? You look really troubled."

Emily took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "It's just... everything, Jess. My sister, my parents, the expectations. I feel like I'm being torn apart by their legacies."

Jessica nodded, understanding. "I know it's hard, Em. But you're not alone in this. You have people who care about you, who support you. You don't have to be perfect. Just be yourself."

Emily managed a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Jess. I just... I need to figure out who that is."

As Emily and Jessica continued their walk through Davy Crockett High, the imposing structure of the offshore Mother Base school came into view. The school, a marvel of modern architecture, floated on the ocean like a fortress. It was a massive complex, combining the aesthetics of a military base with the functionality of a high school. The exterior was adorned with the school's emblem, a symbol of strength and unity.

Inside, the hallways were lined with reinforced steel walls, and the floors were a polished, industrial gray. The walls were decorated with banners and flags representing various Tankery victories and other achievements. Students moved through the corridors with a sense of purpose, their uniforms crisp and clean. The sound of footsteps and chatter filled the air, blending with the hum of machinery and the distant roar of the sea.

Emily and Jessica made their way past classrooms equipped with state-of-the-art technology, training rooms filled with simulators, and hangars housing tanks and other military vehicles. The cafeteria was a large, open space with long tables and benches, and the food was surprisingly good for a school on a floating base.

As they walked, a boy named Johnny approached them. He was tall and athletic, with a friendly smile that lit up his face. Emily knew him well; they had shared classes and tank training sessions.

Hey, Emily!" Johnny greeted with a wide smile. "How's it going?"

"Hi, Johnny," Emily replied, her tone polite but reserved.

Jessica nudged Emily playfully. "Looks like someone's happy to see you."

Johnny chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, um, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out after school sometime. Maybe grab a coffee or something?"

Emily sighed inwardly. She appreciated Johhny's interest, but she wasn't ready for a relationship, especially with everything else on her mind. "I appreciate the offer, Johnny, but I'm really busy with school and Tankery practice right now. Maybe another time?"

Johnny's face fell slightly, but he quickly masked his disappointment with a smile. "Sure, no problem. I'll ask again later. Who knows, maybe you'll change your mind."

"Maybe," Emily said with a small, genuine smile. "Thanks for understanding."

As Johnny walked away, Jessica leaned in closer to Emily. "You know he's totally into you, right? Why not give him a chance?"

Emily shrugged. "I don't know, Jess. It's just... complicated. I'm not sure I'm ready for that right now."

Jessica nodded thoughtfully. "I get it. Just remember, it's okay to let people in. You don't have to carry everything by yourself."

Emily sighed, feeling the weight of her friend's words. "Yeah, I know. I'll think about it."

As the school day wound down, Emily and Jessica navigated the halls of Davy Crockett High, their conversations blending with the ambient noise of students finishing their activities and preparing to leave. The base's structure was impressive, its design mirroring the efficiency and order of a military installation. Classrooms were transitioning to quiet as students filed out, heading toward the hangar where helicopters awaited to ferry them back to the mainland.

Emily and Jessica joined the group of students moving towards the helicopter pad. The rhythmic sounds of their footsteps echoed through the metallic corridors, a stark contrast to the conversations and laughter surrounding them. As they neared the hangar, Emily's eyes caught sight of a small memorial near the exit.

She stopped, her gaze drawn to the list of names etched into the memorial plaque, honoring those who had lost their lives in the Dallas Incident and the outbreak at the science building. Names and ages of the boys and girls who had died were inscribed, a solemn reminder of the sacrifices made. At the center of the memorial stood a statue of her father, Don Houston, depicted wearing his iconic bandana and holding an airsoft rifle.

Emily stared at the statue, her thoughts heavy. "He always looks so... heroic," she thought to herself. "But it's complicated. People see him as a hero, but I remember the times he was absent, the missions that took him away."

Jessica, noticing Emily's pause, walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You okay, Em? It's tough, isn't it?"

Emily nodded, her eyes still on the statue. "Yeah, it is. These memorials... they honor bravery and sacrifice, but they also remind me of all the pain and loss."

Jessica looked at the memorial, reading some of the names. "I remember hearing about this. The Dallas Incident was brutal. But your dad... he saved so many lives. Grand Lake High and North High have their own memorials too, for Commander Graham and Commander Muller. They all played their parts."

"Yeah, they did," Emily replied softly. "But to me, my father wasn't a hero. He made so many decisions that hurt people, including our family. He defected from Vermont Tankery Academy, leaving behind those who were loyal to him. And then there was the outbreak at the science building... so many lives lost."

Jessica nodded, understanding the complexity of Emily's feelings. "It's hard to reconcile the public image with the personal one. Your dad did what he thought was right, but it came at a cost."

Emily sighed, her gaze shifting from the names to the statue's face. "Two other schools, Grand Lake High and North High, have memorials too. Commander Graham and Commander Muller are honored there. Everyone sees my father as a hero, but I can't see it that way. I just remember the man who was always leaving, always fighting."

Emily walked into the Tankery practice yard, her steps purposeful as she approached the command center. The yard was bustling with activity as students prepared their tanks for practice. The Davy Crockett High Tankery team had a variety of tanks on hand: several models of Shermans, a few Chaffees, and some Pershings, each meticulously maintained and ready for action.

Emily entered the Command Center, her steps echoing in the spacious room. She was immediately greeted by her command chain, each member reflecting the legacy of their parents.

Yumi Jefferson, her Vice Commander, stood out with her long black hair and the same yellow scarf her father wore during his time at Davy Crockett High. She was clearly annoyed with the Lieutenant, who was too relaxed, shuffling a stack of cards in his hands. Jean-Luc, or 'Gambit' as Emily had nicknamed him, carried an air of effortless charm.

"Oh come chéri, there's no need to be so uptight," Gambit said, still shuffling his cards with a smirk.

Yumi grumbled, "Ugh, I don't know how I talk to you, Luc!" She stormed back to her chair, frustrated.

"Come on, Yumi, you need to relax," spoke Sergeant James, trying to mediate. He was a lot like his father, Dean, who had been the fifth commander of Davy Crockett High's Rangers infantry. However, James also inherited his mother's calm demeanor, Mika, the former commander of Jatkosota High School.

Emily watched her command chain, feeling a sense of déjà vu. They were like reflections of the old Davy Crockett High Tankery team command chain: her father Houston as Commander, Jefferson as Vice Commander, Shadow as Lieutenant, and Dean as Sergeant. Yet, despite their similarities, she noticed someone was missing.

"Hey, has anyone seen the Captain?" Emily asked, scanning the room.

Before anyone could respond, Emily felt a sudden sweep at her feet. She was knocked off balance and fell to the ground, only to find an airsoft revolver pointed at her. It was her cousin, Greg Houston, the firstborn of Red Houston and Miho Nishizumi, wearing his father's old pilot jacket.

"Always stay on guard, Emily," Greg said with a playful grin, helping her up. "You never know when someone might try to surprise you."

Emily shook her head, smiling despite herself. "Nice to see you too, Captain."

The rest of the command chain looked on, some amused, others slightly exasperated.

"Greg, do you always have to make such an entrance?" Yumi asked, shaking her head.

Gambit chuckled, shuffling his cards again. "Ah, the fearless Captain strikes again. Impressive as always, mon ami."

James just smiled, his calm demeanor steadying the group. "It's good to have you here, Greg. We need to debrief and prepare for the next mission."

Emily dusted herself off, feeling a mix of annoyance and affection for her cousin. "Alright, let's get down to business. We have a lot to cover."

Emily gathered her command chain around the central table, the atmosphere growing more focused as they prepared for the meeting.

"Alright, let's start with the status updates," Emily began, turning to Yumi. "Yumi, how's the Tankery team looking?"

Yumi nodded, pulling out her notes. "The Tankery team is in good shape. We've been running drills and refining our strategies. The new recruits are catching on quickly, and our veteran members are stepping up as leaders. We've also received some new equipment that should give us an edge in upcoming matches."

"That's great to hear," Emily said, feeling reassured. "James, what about the Infantry Rangers?"

James straightened up, his expression serious. "The Infantry Rangers are ready. We've been conducting joint exercises with the Tankery team to improve coordination. Morale is high, and everyone is committed to maintaining our standards. We've also incorporated some new tactical maneuvers that should prove useful in different combat scenarios."

"Excellent," Emily replied, pleased with the progress. She then turned to Greg. "Greg, what's the status of the airborne units and the Air Force?"

Greg leaned forward, his expression confident. "Our airborne units are fully operational. We've conducted several training missions, and our pilots are performing exceptionally well. The Air Force has also been running simulations and real-world exercises to ensure we're ready for any situation. We're maintaining a high level of readiness across the board."

"Perfect," Emily said, feeling a sense of pride in her team. "And Gambit, how about the logistics and support operations?"

Gambit flashed his usual charming smile, still shuffling his deck of cards. "All logistics and support operations are running smoothly. We've streamlined our supply chains and ensured that all units are well-equipped and supported. We're also working on enhancing our communication networks to improve coordination across all divisions."

"Thank you, everyone," Emily said, wrapping up the main points of the meeting. "We're in a strong position, but we can't afford to be complacent. We need to stay focused and continue improving."

As the meeting drew to a close, Gambit leaned over towards Yumi, his tone playful. "Yumi, you know, your dedication to this team is truly inspiring. How about we celebrate our progress over dinner sometime?"

Yumi's eyes narrowed, her annoyance evident. "Gambit, for the last time, focus on your duties instead of your ridiculous attempts at flirting."

Gambit chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Can't blame a guy for trying."

The meeting room of the American Tankery League in Washington, D.C., was filled with a mix of anticipation and tension as officials and staff discussed the potential anniversary match. The room buzzed with chatter until the League President called for order.

"Order... Order! Our first order of business will be addressed by the Chairwoman of the Sensha-Do Federation, Maho Nishizumi. Maho, you have the floor."

The room quieted down as Maho Nishizumi, a figure of both respect and authority, rose to speak. Her presence commanded attention, and she began with a measured tone.

"Thank you," Maho started, her eyes sweeping across the room. "I know you're all aware of why I'm here—regarding the match between Sensha-Do of Japan and the American Tankery League here in your homeland. It's been some time since the first match on Oshima Island, where I was present during that confrontation between our schools."

She paused, allowing her words to sink in before continuing, "The match we had at Kuromorimine was memorable, and I enjoyed facing the American Tankery schools. However, we all remember the unexpected events that marred that first match—Vermont Tankery Academy, the return of Commander Anderson, the so-called 'Old Dogs of War,' and, tragically, the deaths of nine American boys under the command of Chiaki, a Federation Commander. What happened was unforeseen and regrettable."

Maho's tone grew more somber as she touched on the darker aspects of the past. "Since those events, much has changed. Commander Anderson is gone, having been killed by my husband. His death marked the end of an era of chaos and rivalry. But despite the past, I believe it is time to move forward. To commemorate the bond between our nations, I propose that we host an anniversary match between Sensha-Do and the American Tankery League. A match on Oshima Island once again."

The room buzzed with murmurs of approval and concern. Some officials nodded in agreement, while others exchanged uneasy glances, recalling the violence of the past.

One of the League's senior officials, a man with a sharp gaze and a deep voice, spoke up. "Chairwoman Nishizumi, while your proposal is intriguing, we must consider the risks involved. The last match on Oshima Island escalated beyond anyone's expectations. What guarantees can you provide that history won't repeat itself?"

Maho nodded, acknowledging the concern. "I understand your reservations. However, I believe that with proper oversight and collaboration, we can prevent the mistakes of the past. This match would not only be a tribute to those who have fallen but also a demonstration of how far we have come in fostering mutual respect between our nations. The Federation and the League can work together to ensure the safety and fairness of this event."

Another official, a woman with a thoughtful expression, chimed in, "And what of the students? The children who will be participating? How can we ensure their safety, given the history of this island and the volatility that once surrounded these events?"

Maho's gaze softened. "The students' safety will be our highest priority. We will implement strict safety protocols, and the match will be closely monitored. Both Sensha-Do and the American Tankery League have learned from our past mistakes. We are not the same organizations we were then. This anniversary match is an opportunity to prove that."

The League President, who had been listening intently, finally spoke. "Chairwoman Nishizumi, your words carry weight, and your commitment to this match is evident. However, this is not a decision we can make lightly. We must consider the implications, the safety of our students, and the message this event will send. I propose that we form a joint committee between the Sensha-Do Federation and the American Tankery League to plan this match thoroughly. If we proceed, it will be with careful planning and coordination."

As the meeting continued, the atmosphere grew tense when a League official, a man with a stern expression and a graying beard, stood up. His voice was loud and carried a hint of bitterness as he began to speak.

"If it weren't for your husband, Don Houston, we wouldn't be here today, discussing this match. He was the one who stepped in to stop Vermont Tankery Academy after they crawled back from the dead, following their shutdown after the Dallas Incident. We all know what happened back then, even if some of us choose to forget or ignore it."

The official's words cut through the room like a knife, and Maho's expression remained calm, though a flicker of something crossed her eyes. The official continued, his voice dripping with disdain.

"I've heard the stories—how your husband, the so-called 'Big Boss,' swooped in like some kind of hero. And let's not forget how your mother, Shiho Nishizumi, offered us a bargain back then. If we hadn't accepted, the American Tankery League would've been shut down for nothing. But let's be honest here, that bargain was nothing more than a leash to keep us in check."

He paused, letting his words hang in the air before delivering his final blow. "And now, you're here, proposing another match as if your husband was some kind of living legend. But where is he now? Dead, just like any other soldier who thought he could cheat death. He's no legend, just a man who got himself killed."

Maho felt a surge of anger rise within her, but she kept her composure, her hands tightening slightly at her sides. The room was filled with murmurs of agreement from some of the other officials, their heads nodding as they shared the same sentiment. The atmosphere grew heavier, charged with a mix of resentment and tension.

Just as the situation seemed to spiral out of control, another voice cut through the tension—a voice that Maho recognized instantly. It was Red Houston, Don's younger brother, who had been sitting quietly at the back of the room. He rose from his seat, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room.

"With all due respect," Red began, his voice steady but firm, "let's not rewrite history to suit our own narratives. Yes, my brother played a pivotal role in stopping Vermont Tankery Academy and their so-called 'resurgence.' But let's not forget that it wasn't just his fight. It was a fight for every school, every student, and every life that was threatened by the madness that unfolded."

Red's words resonated, and the murmurs of agreement began to quiet down as he continued. "That match, that fight, it brought together both the Japanese schools of Sensha-Do and the American Tankery schools. It wasn't just about who won or lost. It was about standing against a common threat, and in that moment, we weren't enemies. We were allies. My brother knew that, and so did Maho."

He took a step forward, his gaze locking onto the official who had spoken earlier. "As for Don being a 'living legend,' you're damn right he was. But he was more than that—he was a man who fought for what he believed in, who put his life on the line for others. He didn't die because he was reckless or foolhardy. He died because he knew that some things were worth fighting for, even if it meant paying the ultimate price."

Red's voice softened, but the conviction in his words remained strong. "And Maho, she's not here to glorify what happened or to bask in some perceived legacy. She's here to honor the memory of those who fought and died, and to propose a match that can serve as a reminder of what we stand for—unity, respect, and the values that both Sensha-Do and the American Tankery League uphold."

The room was silent, the tension that had previously filled the air now dissipating as Red's words sank in. Maho glanced at Red, a small, appreciative smile playing on her lips. He had defended not only his brother but also the integrity of what they were trying to achieve.

Red concluded, his voice calm but resolute, "So before we start pointing fingers and throwing around insults, let's remember why we're here. This anniversary match isn't about digging up old wounds or reliving the past. It's about moving forward, honoring those who came before us, and setting an example for the next generation of tankery students."

As the meeting progressed, the discussion shifted toward the future of tankery and what lessons the next generation should take away from the past. The atmosphere was now more constructive, with the officials eager to contribute their thoughts.

One of the officials raised a question. "What exactly should the next generation be learning from all of this? What do we pass on to them, so they understand the significance of what happened on Oshima Island and the events that followed?"

Red Houston, who was still standing after his previous speech, paused for a moment before responding. He glanced at his wife, Miho Nishizumi, who was seated beside him. Miho was calm, her hand resting on her slightly rounded belly, a quiet reminder of the new life they were about to welcome into the world.

Red began, his voice carrying a thoughtful tone. "I have seven children... actually, no," he corrected himself, a warm smile touching his lips as he looked at Miho, "eight. Miho and I are expecting another, as some of you may already know."

There were murmurs of congratulations from around the room, but Red quickly steered the conversation back to the matter at hand.

"My children, like many of the kids growing up today, will inherit the world we've built. They'll learn about what we did on Oshima Island, not just from the history books, but from the stories we pass down to them. But those stories can't just be about the battles we fought or the victories we won. They need to understand why we fought—what was at stake."

He paused, letting his words sink in. "The next generation should learn about the values that drove us—the importance of standing up against injustice, the necessity of cooperation, and the strength that comes from unity. They need to know that what we did wasn't just about winning a match or defeating an enemy. It was about protecting what we hold dear, whether that's our friends, our families, or the ideals we believe in."

Miho, who had been listening intently, nodded in agreement as Red continued. "Our children should understand that the world is complicated, and sometimes, the lines between right and wrong aren't always clear. But they also need to know that there's always a choice—a choice to do what's right, even when it's difficult, even when it means standing alone."

Red looked around the room, meeting the eyes of the officials and the League President. "What we did on that island was significant, not just because of the battles we fought, but because of the lessons we learned about ourselves and each other. Those are the lessons we need to pass on to the next generation, so they can carry the torch forward, not as soldiers or commanders, but as people who understand the value of life and the responsibilities that come with it."

There was a moment of silence as the weight of Red's words settled over the room. The League President, clearly moved by Red's speech, nodded thoughtfully.

"I couldn't agree more, Mr. Houston," the President said. "The next generation must understand the importance of what you and so many others did—not just as a story of conflict, but as a story of growth, resilience, and the human spirit. It's our duty to ensure they inherit the best of what we've learned, so they can build a better future."

Miho, still seated beside Red, gave him a supportive smile. She understood the importance of what he had said, and she was proud of the way he had articulated the legacy they were leaving for their children and the generations to come.

As the meeting concluded, the officials and participants began to file out of the room. The atmosphere had shifted to a more relaxed and reflective tone after the intense discussions. Maho Nishizumi took a moment to gather her thoughts before spotting her sister, Miho, and brother-in-law, Red, descending the steps of the America Tankery League headquarters.

Maho quickened her pace to catch up with them, calling out, "Miho! Red!"

Miho turned, a smile brightening her face as she saw her sister. "Maho! It's been too long," she said warmly as the two sisters embraced. Red gave Maho a nod and a smile, welcoming her with open arms.

"It really has," Maho agreed as they began walking together down the steps, the evening sun casting long shadows. "We need to do a better job of keeping in touch, especially with everything going on."

Red chimed in, "I think we all could use a little more time together, especially now that our families are growing."

They continued walking, catching up on recent events. After some small talk about the meeting and the upcoming anniversary match, Miho turned the conversation to a more personal topic. "Maho, how are Aiko and Emily doing? I haven't seen them in ages."

Maho's expression softened, but there was a hint of concern in her eyes. "Aiko is doing well. She's fully committed to Kuromorimine, following in our footsteps. She's become an S-Rank commander, just like you were, Miho. She's really embraced the Nishizumi name and everything that comes with it."

Miho smiled, proud of her niece. "That's wonderful to hear. Aiko always had that determination."

Maho nodded, but her expression grew more serious as she continued. "But Emily... she's different. She's always been different. After Don passed away, she chose to live on her own at the Houston Manor. She left Kuromorimine, and it's been hard for her, Miho."

Miho listened intently, her concern for her niece evident. "What do you mean, Maho? How is Emily handling things?"

Maho sighed, searching for the right words. "Emily has always struggled with her identity. Aiko is carrying on our family's legacy, but Emily... she feels trapped between the Nishizumi name and the Houston name. She didn't want to be a Tankery commander like Aiko, but now she's leading Davy Crockett High's team. She never wanted to be in her father's shadow, yet she's finding it difficult to escape it."

Red, who had been quietly listening, nodded thoughtfully. "It sounds like Emily's going through a tough time. She's trying to figure out who she is, separate from her parents' legacies."

Maho looked at Miho, her eyes betraying her worry. "She's always judged herself harshly, Miho. Emily feels the weight of both family names—the Nishizumi name that she believes she'll never live up to, and the Houston name, which carries its own complicated history. She's burdened by what happened with Don, with the cloning program, with the deaths that occurred because of it... She's constantly questioning whether she should carry on her mother's legacy or her father's."

Miho placed a comforting hand on Maho's arm. "Emily is strong, Maho. She's facing challenges that none of us can fully understand, but she'll find her way. She just needs time, and maybe a little guidance from those who care about her."

Maho sighed again, the weight of the situation evident on her face. "I hope so, Miho. I really do. I've tried to reach out, but she's so independent, so determined to do things on her own. I'm just worried that she's isolating herself too much."

Red, always the steady presence, spoke up. "Emily will come around when she's ready. She's got a good head on her shoulders, even if she doesn't see it right now. And she's got the support of everyone who loves her, even if she doesn't always realize it."

Maho managed a small smile, appreciating the comfort her sister and brother-in-law offered. "Thank you, both of you. I just want what's best for her, for both of them."

Meanwhile at Kuromorine Girl's Acadmey

Aiko Nishizumi sat at her desk in the commander's office of Kuromorimine Girls' Academy, her eyes focused on the reports scattered across the polished wood surface. The steady hum of the school ship's engines was a constant reminder of the unique setting in which they trained. The responsibilities that came with her role weighed heavily on her, but Aiko handled them with the same precision and determination that had made her family name legendary in the world of Sensha-Do.

As she was reviewing the latest training drill reports, there was a knock at the door. Without looking up from her papers, Aiko called out, "Come in."

The door opened, and in stepped her Vice Commander, Sonja Müller. The daughter of Erika Itsumi and Albert Müller, Sonja bore a striking resemblance to her mother with her short silver hair, but her stern demeanor and disciplined stance clearly reflected her father's German military attitude. Sonja was known for her no-nonsense approach and her unwavering loyalty to Aiko, qualities that made her an indispensable part of the team.

"Commander, you called?" Sonja reported, standing at attention just inside the doorway.

Aiko finally looked up, offering a brief nod in acknowledgment. "Yes, I did. I wanted to know the status of all our Sensha-Do tanks. How are the crews performing, and are there any issues I need to be aware of?"

Sonja stepped forward, producing a tablet from under her arm and tapping a few buttons to bring up the necessary data. "Overall, the crews are performing at a high standard. The training drills this morning went smoothly, with only minor issues. The Panzer IV team reported a slight malfunction in their turret rotation system, but our mechanics have already addressed it. The Tiger I team has also shown significant improvement in their maneuvering drills, which I believe is due to the adjustments we made to their training regimen last week."

Aiko listened intently, nodding as Sonja continued with her report. The efficiency and effectiveness of their tank crews were of utmost importance to her, and she appreciated the thoroughness with which Sonja handled these matters.

"As for the newer crews," Sonja continued, "they're progressing well, but they'll need more time to reach the level of our veterans. I recommend continuing with the intensive training schedule we've implemented, focusing particularly on live-fire exercises to build their confidence and skill under pressure."

Aiko considered this for a moment, her mind already racing ahead to how these updates would affect their upcoming matches. "Good. I want every team performing at their peak, especially with the anniversary match on the horizon. We can't afford to be anything less than perfect."

Sonja nodded, understanding the weight of the upcoming event. "Understood, Commander. I'll make sure the teams are prepared."

"One more thing," Aiko added, her tone serious. "I need you to keep an eye on morale. With the anniversary match being such a significant event, some of the girls might feel the pressure more than others. We can't have anyone doubting themselves when they're out on the field."

"Of course," Sonja replied, her voice firm. "I'll ensure that everyone stays focused and confident."

Aiko allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. "Thank you, Sonja. I knew I could count on you."

With a final nod, Sonja turned to leave, but paused at the door. "Is there anything else, Commander?"

Aiko shook her head. "No, that will be all for now. Keep me updated on any developments."

"Will do," Sonja said before exiting the office, leaving Aiko alone with her thoughts once more.

As the door closed behind Sonja, Aiko leaned back in her chair, gazing out of the window at the endless expanse of ocean surrounding their school ship. The anniversary match was looming closer, and with it, the expectations that came with being a Nishizumi. But Aiko had never shied away from a challenge, and she was determined to uphold the legacy of her family and her school.

However, a part of her couldn't help but think of her twin sister, Emily. They had chosen such different paths, yet their fates seemed intertwined in ways neither could fully escape.

Aiko remained seated, her mind drifting to memories that were always just beneath the surface. She leaned forward, opening a small drawer in her desk. From it, she carefully retrieved an old family photo, one that she often looked at in moments like this.

The picture was slightly faded, but the warmth and joy it captured were as clear as ever. It showed a much younger Don Houston and Maho Nishizumi, both still in their school years. Don, dressed in his tankery uniform, had a confident smile, his arm wrapped around Maho, who held two tiny infants in her arms—Aiko and Emily. The girls, mere babies at the time, were swaddled in matching blankets, unaware of the complex world they had been born into.

Aiko traced the edges of the photo with her fingers, her gaze lingering on her father's face. He looked so full of life, so determined. It was hard to reconcile this image with the man she knew had faced countless battles, both on the field and within himself. She could see the same intensity in his eyes that she sometimes saw in her own reflection—a desire to protect, to achieve, and to live up to the expectations placed upon them.

Her eyes then shifted from the photo to her desk, where her father's bandana lay. The same bandana he had worn throughout his life, a symbol of his resilience and his unwavering resolve. It was the same bandana worn by the legendary "Big Boss," as her father had been known in some circles, a title that carried as much weight as the Nishizumi name.

Aiko picked up the bandana, holding it gently in her hands. It felt rough, worn from years of use, but it was also a reminder of her father's strength. Don Houston had never been one to back down from a fight, whether it was on the battlefield or in the challenges life threw at him. He had lived a life of purpose, even if it had been filled with hardship and sacrifice.

As she held the bandana, Aiko couldn't help but reflect on the different paths she and Emily had taken. Emily, who had inherited their father's stubbornness and independence, had chosen to live alone at the Houston Manor, distancing herself from the legacy that Aiko had fully embraced. Emily had always been the more rebellious of the two, resisting the expectations that came with their family names.

Aiko sighed, placing the bandana back on her desk. She knew the weight of the Nishizumi name, the legacy of Sensha-Do, and the expectations that came with being a commander at Kuromorimine. But she also understood the burden that Emily carried, the conflict between wanting to honor their father's memory and the resentment she felt for the life he had chosen, one that had often kept him away from them.

The sudden blare of alarms jolted Aiko from her thoughts, the calm atmosphere of her office shattered by the urgency of the situation. She sprang to her feet and rushed to the window, her eyes widening as she saw the girls of Kuromorimine mobilizing. They quickly armed themselves with airsoft rifles, moving with the precision and discipline instilled in them by their training—and by the legacy of Davy Crockett High.

Aiko grabbed the radio on her desk, her voice steady but commanding as she addressed the school. "All fireteams, this is CP! All units to combat positions! Repeat, all units to combat positions!"

The radio crackled with responses from various fireteams confirming their positions and engaging the enemy. But one unit remained silent. Aiko frowned, her concern growing as she radioed them again. "Delta Six, this is CP. Do you copy? Come in!"

A frantic voice finally broke through the static. "Yes, Commander! This is Delta Six. We are dealing with the intruder—we caught them stealing data from our record room!" Before the girl could finish her report, the sound of an airsoft pellet hitting its target cut her off.

"Delta Six, what's wrong?! Come in, Delta Six!" Aiko shouted, but the only response was silence.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked out the window again, spotting a squad of masked intruders. They wore the uniforms of Davy Crockett, North High, and Grand Lake High, their airsoft weapons aimed with practiced precision. They were trying to extract whatever data they had stolen.

Aiko's fists clenched in anger. These weren't just any intruders—they were highly skilled and organized. She quickly activated the intercom, her voice ringing out through the school. "All fireteams, this is CP! We are engaged with an enemy force! All units prepare for combat!"

Without a moment's hesitation, Aiko grabbed her gear from a nearby locker, slinging an airsoft rifle over her shoulder. She paused for a brief moment, her eyes falling on her father's bandana. Taking it in her hands, she wrapped it around her forehead, feeling the weight of her father's legacy settle over her. With a deep breath, she steeled herself for the battle ahead.

Bursting out of her office, Aiko sprinted through the halls, barking orders to the students she passed. She made her way to the heart of the action, where the firefight was already in full swing. The sound of airsoft rifles firing echoed through the corridors, mingled with the shouts and commands of her fellow students.

As she rounded a corner, Aiko's sharp eyes caught sight of one of the intruders—a boy wearing a Grand Lake High uniform—engaging in close-quarters combat with one of her girls. The boy moved with fluid precision, his strikes fast and deliberate as he quickly subdued his opponent. Aiko's heart pounded in her chest as she recognized the CQC techniques; they were eerily similar to the ones her father had taught her.

Without hesitation, Aiko charged at the boy. He barely had time to react before she was upon him, her movements a blur of practiced CQC techniques. She twisted his arm behind his back and slammed him against the wall, disarming him with a swift motion. The boy grunted in surprise and pain, clearly not expecting such resistance.

Before Aiko could press her advantage, another figure emerged from the shadows—a female intruder wearing a Davy Crockett uniform. Her movements were swift and deliberate, her stance indicating she was no stranger to hand-to-hand combat. The two locked eyes for a brief moment, each assessing the other.

To be Continued....