As Anthony and Tyrone walked ahead, their heavy 6'2" and 5'11" frames casting long shadows under the sun, the girls from Ōarai, Kuromorimine, Pravda, St. Gloriana, Anzio, Saunders, BC Freedom, Jatkosota, Chi-Ha-Tan, All-Stars, Bonple, Blue Division, and more trailed behind them, still trying to process the two towering Americans in front of them.

It was one thing to hear about them.

It was another thing to see them in action.

But seeing them up close? That was an entirely different level of reality.

They all remembered the infamous Freshman Photos—a viral image circulated through Tankery circles nationwide.

Anthony's face was scrunched up, eyes closed, lips pursed, looking like he had just eaten the world's sourest lemon mid-sneeze.

Tyrone, on the other hand, looked utterly bewildered, his mouth agape, eyes wide, like he had just witnessed a tank turn into a Transformer and forgot how to breathe.

It had been a national meme for three weeks.

And now, those same two goofballs stood before them, two towering, battle-hardened, muscle-packed tankery commanders who had fought in some of the most brutal, unregulated Tankery matches known to man.

The difference was staggering.

Miho and Maho watched silently, their emotions more complex than they expected.

It had been over a decade since they last saw Anthony and Tyrone in person.

The four of them had once been children, running across their families' military bases, playing tag between parked tanks and armored vehicles.

Back then, Anthony had been a scrawny, book-smart kid, always carrying some military strategy book his dad gave him. He had dreamed of commanding a Tankery school but never knew if he'd actually get there.

Tyrone? Tyrone had been a wildcard. He wasn't supposed to be a Tankery kid. He was supposed to follow his father into the Air Force—yet here he was, one of the deadliest Vice-Commanders in the world.

And now, looking at them—taller, sharper, more dangerous—Miho and Maho both felt an odd sense of nostalgia mixed with pride.

These were their childhood friends.

But these were also two of the most feared commanders in the sport.

As the group walked through the school grounds, the Japanese Tankery girls couldn't help but steal glances at the two Americans.

It wasn't just their height or their size—it was their presence.

Anthony walked with a calm, controlled confidence, his sharp military posture making it very clear he had been trained to lead. His movements were precise, calculated, like a man always thinking three steps ahead.

Tyrone? Tyrone had that swagger, that casual "I can wreck your shit and still look cool doing it" energy. He moved like a predator at rest, one hand casually in his hoodie pocket, the other spinning his phone around his finger like he had nothing to worry about—yet every step he took had an undeniable readiness to it.

The girls exchanged whispers as they walked.

➡ "Are they really the same guys from those photos?"

➡ "They don't look like students... they look like soldiers."

➡ "Did you see their arms?! Their biceps are the size of my head!"

➡ "I heard they use modern tanks... how do they even handle WWII ones?"

➡ "I thought they were gonna be funny and goofy... but now I feel like I'm walking next to a final boss."

Katyusha, the shortest one among the group, looked particularly annoyed.

Her usual bratty confidence took a massive hit standing next to Anthony and Tyrone, whose shadows literally loomed over her.

She grumbled under her breath.

"This isn't fair," she muttered to Nonna, crossing her arms. "Why are they so damn big? I feel like a chihuahua next to two Dobermans!"

Nonna smirked. "Would you like me to carry you so you can speak to them eye-to-eye?"

Katyusha's face turned red. "SHUT UP, NONNA!"

Darjeeling, walking beside Kay from Saunders, let out a humored sigh.

"Tea is often judged not by its name, but by its quality when tasted," she mused, watching the two Americans ahead. "I believe we have been drinking the wrong tea all along."

Kay raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying you underestimated them?"

Darjeeling nodded slightly, taking a delicate sip from a teacup she somehow had on hand. "Yes. And I do believe Japan may be in serious trouble."

The Chi-Ha-Tan girls—who were known for their "Charge first, think later" tactics—watched the two with wide eyes.

Nishi, their Overall Commander, whispered to her Vice-Commander, Tamaki Tamada.

"If... if we had to fight them, what do you think would happen?"

Tamaki deadpanned. "We would die."

Nishi gulped.

Meanwhile, Kay from Saunders grinned.

"Man, these guys are cool as hell!" she nudged Naomi, her best sharpshooter. "I bet they'd fit right in with our team."

Naomi chuckled. "They give off more Special Forces than Tankery vibes, but yeah... they're interesting."

Tyrone, meanwhile, noticed all the staring.

He stopped mid-step, turned around, and looked directly at the girls trailing behind them.

"Y'all good?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

The entire group froze.

Then immediately looked away like a bunch of guilty kids caught staring at a teacher's test answers.

Tyrone smirked. "Y'all acting like y'all never seen two tall-ass Black dudes before."

Mako, in her usual monotone, simply said, "We haven't."

Tyrone paused.

Then nodded.

"Aight, fair."

As Anthony walked ahead, he could feel Miho and Maho's gazes on him.

He turned his head slightly, giving them a small side-smirk.

"It's good to see you two again," he said casually.

Miho smiled warmly. "It really is."

Maho nodded. "You've changed, Ant-kun."

Anthony chuckled. "So have you."

Maho's lips curved ever so slightly. "We'll see who changed more on the battlefield."

Anthony's smirk widened. "Looking forward to it."

It was then that Katyusha stepped in front of Anthony trying show confidence and bravery. But Anthony got down to her level assuming she wants his attention. He gives her his Twinkie and his Woodland BDU jacket to keep warm. Keep in mind, Katyusha is 127 cm (4'2"). And Anthony's Woodland BDU jacket is a XXL meant to fit someone his body type. Meaning Katyusha felt tiny wearing it. Miho glared dangerously at Katyusha for wearing it.

Katyusha blinked.

She stared down at the Twinkie in her hands.

Then at the massive Woodland BDU jacket now draped over her tiny 4'2" frame like a military parachute.

It was warm.

It smelled like Anthony—like gun oil, fresh leather, and a faint trace of cologne.

The loli commander of Pravda was not sure how to react.

Her brain short-circuited.

This wasn't how she expected things to go.

Five Minutes Ago

Katyusha had stepped in front of Anthony, ready to confront him like a proper commander.

Despite being over a two feet shorter, she was going to assert dominance.

She was going to stand tall.

She was going to show confidence and bravery.

She was going to put the fear of Pravda in this American commander.

But the moment Anthony knelt down to her level—his calm brown eyes meeting hers, his towering presence now uncomfortably close—her mind blanked out.

Then, before she could even speak, he casually handed her a Twinkie... and then took off his oversized BDU jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

Like she was some kind of little kid.

Back to the Present

The Japanese Tankery girls stared.

Miho's eye twitched dangerously.

Maho crossed her arms.

Darjeeling took a sip of tea, watching with amusement.

Kay grinned wildly, nudging Naomi. "Yo, look at her! She's drowning in that jacket!"

The XXL-sized military-issued jacket practically engulfed Katyusha's tiny frame, making her look like a child who stole her dad's coat.

The sleeves dangled past her hands.

The bottom hem dragged near her knees.

And the worst part?

It was warm and comfortable.

A part of Katyusha wanted to throw it off, glare at Anthony, and tell him, "I am NOT a kid, you Yankee Baka!"

But instead...

She held the Twinkie close, and hugged the jacket tighter around herself.

And she wasn't sure why.

Miho Nishizumi was not amused.

Her hazel-brown eyes narrowed as she watched Katyusha wrapped up in Anthony's jacket like some kind of clingy girlfriend.

Miho subconsciously clenched her fists.

A dark aura radiated around her.

Saori immediately noticed.

"U-Uh... Miho-chan?" she whispered, poking Miho's shoulder carefully.

Miho didn't respond.

Her focus was on Katyusha.

More importantly, on the fact that Katyusha now smelled like Anthony because of the jacket.

The short blonde haired girl had just unintentionally declared war.

Tyrone being a gentleman saw Miho twitching(in a jealous rage) thought that she's cold too. He elbows Anthony with a head tilt towards the 158 cm (5'2") girl and the latter nodded. Anthony tosses his old Freshman year L.P.U.A. XL hoodie that he outgrew towards Miho.

Tyrone does the same but tosses it at random... landing on top of Maho.

Miho froze as the oversized L.P.U.A. Freshman hoodie hit her in the face.

The moment it slid down into her hands, she stared at it.

It was old—worn but soft. The fabric carried a familiar scent—the same one Miho remembered from childhood.

Books. Leather. A faint trace of sweat.

Anthony.

Slowly, she clutched it closer to her chest.

Her entire brain shut down.

Maho, on the other hand, had no warning before Tyrone's hoodie smacked her directly on top of the head.

The 5'4" Kuromorimine ace immediately glared at Tyrone.

Tyrone blinked, realizing what he just did. "...Shit, my bad. That was meant for—"

Before he could finish, Maho put the hoodie on.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Like she owned it.

Like she claimed it.

The hallway went completely silent.

The 4'2" Pravda commander still hadn't moved.

Anthony's XXL Woodland BDU jacket swallowed her entire tiny frame like a child trying on her dad's coat.

She hadn't said a word.

She was still holding the Twinkie.

Her face was completely red.

"...She hasn't blinked in over a minute," Nonna whispered, looking mildly concerned.

Katyusha wasn't just stuck—she was glitching.

Katyusha.exe had stopped responding.

This was NOT how she expected today to go.

➡ Miho wearing Anthony's old hoodie.

➡ Maho wearing Tyrone's hoodie.

➡ Katyusha literally drowning in Anthony's military jacket.

The silence was deafening.

Until...

"Ayo, why do those look GOOD on them though???" Kay finally breaks the silence.

The entire room erupted.

Saori: "MIHO-CHAN, YOU LOOK SO CUTE IN THAT!"

Darjeeling: "It appears war has just begun in more ways than one..."

Naomi: "Did Tyrone just accidentally claim Maho?"

Mako: "Miho looks like she just achieved enlightenment."

Alisa: "THAT'S NOT FAIR! WHY DON'T I GET A COOL HOODIE?!"

Meanwhile, Miho had not moved an inch.

Her fingers curled tightly into the fabric of Anthony's hoodie.

She wasn't giving it back.

Ever.

Tyrone scratched his head, looking between Maho—who was already adjusting the sleeves of his hoodie like it was hers now—and Miho, who was... uh... looking concerningly happy in Anthony's.

"...Did we just start some shit we can't undo?" Tyrone muttered.

Anthony sighed.

"...Yeah. Yeah, we did."

Tyrone nodded slowly.

"...Welp. Too late now."

Anthony glanced back at Katyusha, who still hadn't moved or spoken since the Twinkie-Jacket Combo Hit.

"...I think I broke Katyusha."

Tyrone shrugged. "She'll reboot in a few minutes."

Maho, having zero hesitation, looked at Tyrone with dead-serious eyes.

"This is mine now," she stated flatly, tugging at the hoodie.

Tyrone blinked. "Aight, bet."

She did not elaborate.

And neither did he.

The implications were terrifying.

Miho was still staring at Katyusha.

Katyusha was still staring at nothing, her brain blue-screened.

Miho's grip tightened on her hoodie.

Katyusha clutched the Twinkie tighter.

Neither of them said a word.

It was then that Anthony decided to try and snap Katyusha back to reality... most attempts didn't work. So Anthony carried her like a baby.

Katyusha.exe Has Stopped Responding.

Anthony, now holding the tiny Pravda commander in his arms like a baby, sighed as he gently rocked her back and forth.

The 4'2" loli dictator still hadn't blinked.

Still hadn't moved.

Still hadn't spoken.

The only thing she did—after what felt like an eternity—was mechanically take a bite out of the Twinkie.

Everyone stared.

The tension in the air was palpable.

Miho's aura darkened.

Her grip tightened on the XL hoodie Anthony had thrown at her.

Her light-brown eyes locked onto Katyusha like a sniper acquiring a target.

Saori, standing next to her, slowly inched away.

She had never seen Miho like this before.

Miho wasn't just jealous.

Miho was plotting murder.

Meanwhile, Tyrone Was Just Watching the Show.

Tyrone, still standing there with his hands in his hoodie pockets, observed the chaos with an amused smirk.

The moment Maho claimed his hoodie, he knew shit was about to escalate.

Now?

Now it was a full-blown international incident.

His gaze flickered to Maho, who looked entirely too comfortable in his hoodie.

The 5'4" Kuromorimine commander had already rolled up the sleeves, adjusted the drawstrings, and—worst of all—wasn't giving it back.

Tyrone narrowed his eyes.

Challenge accepted.

The Rest of the Girls? Losing Their Minds.

Kay was having the time of her life, nudging Darjeeling with a massive grin. "Man, this is peak entertainment! I didn't think things would go this crazy so fast!"

Darjeeling took a slow sip of her tea, her usual elegant smile in place. "Ah... but of course. War does not always begin with cannon fire. Sometimes, it begins with a simple... act of possession."

She side-eyed Maho wearing Tyrone's hoodie.

Kay burst out laughing. "Yo, you making it sound like she stole his soul!"

Darjeeling simply smirked. "Perhaps she did."

Nonna Was Still Taking Pictures.

Click.

Another photo of Anthony cradling Katyusha like a baby.

Click.

A close-up of Miho gripping Anthony's hoodie like she was about to go to war.

Click.

Tyrone, in the background, grinning like a demon.

Click.

Maho, smugly adjusting the hoodie Tyrone gave her.

Click.

Katyusha, still not moving.

Nonna's phone was getting a workout. "These will make excellent leverage," she muttered to herself.

Katyusha finally swallowed the Twinkie.

And, just like that—

Her brain rebooted.

Katyusha's Internal Monologue

System Restarting...
Processing Data...
Current Status: Wrapped in Grant's Massive Jacket.
Temperature: Warm. Too Warm. But Also Kind of Nice.
Twinkie Acquired: Yes.
Social Status: ???
Miho Nishizumi Death Glare Detected.
WARNING: HOSTILE ENERGY FROM 5'2" JAPANESE GIRL.
SOLUTION: Act Natural.

Katyusha blinked.

Then slowly looked around the room.

Nonna was smiling at her like a mother watching her child make a bad decision.

The rest of Pravda's team looked too entertained.

Darjeeling was sipping tea, looking like she had already written the history books on this moment.

Saunders? Laughing their asses off.

Chi-Ha-Tan? Looking horrified.

Jatkosota? Deadpan as hell.

Miho?

Miho was still glaring.

Katyusha, still wrapped up in Anthony's massive Woodland BDU jacket, finally processed what was happening.

She squirmed in Anthony's arms, her face redder than a Soviet flag.

"PUT ME DOWN, AMERICAN!" she finally barked, trying to sound intimidating.

Anthony, smirking, set her down gently.

But he didn't take back the jacket.

Katyusha wobbled for a moment before standing straight, the oversized coat still draped over her tiny frame.

She looked down at it.

She looked back up at Anthony.

Then at Miho.

Then back at Anthony.

Then—

She hugged the jacket tighter.

Miho Nishizumi Was About To Commit A Hate Crime.

Miho's eye twitched.

She turned to Tyrone, who was already watching her.

"...Is this a war declaration?" she asked, her voice low.

Tyrone snorted. "Damn, girl, you tryna start WWIII over a hoodie?"

Miho didn't blink.

Tyrone sighed, scratching his head.

"Aight, look. We can make this fair," he said, crossing his arms.

Miho narrowed her eyes. "...Fair how?"

Tyrone pointed at Maho, still wearing his hoodie. "You and Ant ain't even dating, but you mad 'cause of that jacket, right?"

Miho remained silent.

Tyrone smirked. "Aight, so if you wanna be even, I got a deal."

Miho raised an eyebrow. "What deal?"

Tyrone snatched Anthony's spare varsity jacket from his duffel bag and threw it over Miho's shoulders.

Miho.exe Has Stopped Responding.

Miho stared at the Liberty Prime University Academy varsity jacket now on her.

She blinked.

She looked at Anthony.

Then at Katyusha, still in the BDU jacket.

Then at herself in the varsity jacket.

Then—she gripped it tighter.

Her face turned red.

Her brain short-circuited.

A trade had been made.

Peace was restored.

For now.

➡ Anthony's BDU jacket? Stolen by Katyusha.

➡ Tyrone's hoodie? Claimed by Maho.
➡ Anthony's spare varsity jacket? Now Miho's.
➡ Tyrone? Smug as hell.
➡ Nonna? Still taking pictures.
➡ Darjeeling? Already writing poetic commentary.
➡ Miho & Katyusha? In a silent cold war.
➡ Anthony? Resigned to his fate.
➡ Twinkie? Eaten.

And just like that—

The greatest national Tankery rivalry had just escalated into a full-on Hoodie War.

Nobody knew how it would end.

But one thing was clear.

This was only the beginning.