The stadium was bustling with activity as the students and commanders from Tankery schools worldwide returned for another meeting. The air was tense, yet focused, with everyone ready to coordinate their next moves against the Japanese Tankery Federation. At the center of the stadium, the Spanish Tankery school's Overall Commander and Vice-Commander—Catalina and Carmen Rodriguez, 18-year-old twins with fiery determination—stood confidently by the projector screen.

"Before we begin," Catalina announced in her accented English, her voice clear and sharp, "we have something to share. Something... important."

Carmen stepped forward, clicking through a slideshow of photographs on the massive screen. "These are the names and faces of the Japanese Sensha-Dō school club members. These students are known spies. They have infiltrated other schools before and reported directly to the Federation."

The first few slides showed blurry, distant shots of students from prominent Japanese Tankery schools—Kuromorimine, Pravda, St. Gloriana, and Ooarai. Each face was accompanied by their name, position, and a short description of their suspected activities.

The Russian and Finnish contingents immediately stiffened. Among the photos were several familiar faces from Pravda Girls High School, and their presence reignited old rivalries. Miya Oktyabrskaya of Russia leaned forward, her eyes narrowing dangerously as she exchanged murmurs with her crew. Lumi Törni and her Häyhä Academy team were no less tense, their jaws clenched as they glared at the screen.

As the slides continued, Anthony leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. He watched each photo pass by with sharp, analytical focus, noting every name and detail. When the next photo appeared, his posture shifted slightly—a subtle but noticeable change.

The screen now displayed a picture of Yukari Akiyama, a known Tankery enthusiast from Ooarai Girls Academy. The caption described her as a dedicated tank nerd with an unusual habit of infiltrating other schools to document their tanks, tactics, and team compositions. Her ever-present camera and excitable demeanor were well-documented in the Tankery community.

Anthony's dark brown eyes narrowed as his gaze swept across the seated crowd. Something in the way he scanned the audience caused the usual hum of murmured conversation to fade. The stadium grew quieter as people began to notice Anthony's sudden shift in demeanor.

Anthony's sharp eyes locked onto a familiar figure sitting inconspicuously near the back of the crowd. There she was—Yukari Akiyama, camera in hand, filming the slideshow with wide-eyed excitement.

She hadn't even tried to hide her intent, her lens focused entirely on the sensitive material being presented.

The air in the stadium turned icy as Anthony's gaze darkened, his expression hard and unyielding. His glare was like a thundercloud ready to strike, and it didn't take long for others to follow his line of sight.

Tyrone, sitting beside Anthony, leaned over and whispered, "Ant... who are you glaring at?"

"Look at the back," Anthony said, his voice calm yet cold.

Tyrone turned his head, and it didn't take him long to spot Yukari, her camera now pointed directly at the Rodriguez twins on stage. Tyrone's relaxed demeanor vanished, his usual grin replaced with a grim scowl.

Harriet, sitting a few seats down, followed the tension. "No way," she muttered. "She really thought she could waltz in here?"

By now, the silence had spread across the entire stadium. The air was heavy with unspoken anger as every set of eyes turned toward the oblivious Yukari. Students from Russia, Finland, Canada, Italy, Germany, and beyond were now glaring daggers in her direction. The Chinese students whispered among themselves, some clearly distancing themselves from the situation, knowing what was coming.

It wasn't until the silence became suffocating that Yukari finally noticed something was off. She looked up from her camera, her cheerful expression faltering as she met the sea of furious glares directed squarely at her. Confused, she scanned the room, her smile disappearing entirely when she realized what was happening.

Anthony stood slowly, his imposing 6'2" frame casting a long shadow as he pointed directly at Yukari. His voice cut through the silence like a blade. "Put the camera down. Now."

Yukari froze, her hands trembling slightly as she clutched the camera to her chest. "I-I was just—"

"Now," Anthony repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The room erupted. Shouts in multiple languages filled the air as students and commanders voiced their outrage.

"Spy!"

"She's been recording everything!"

"Get her the fuck out of here!"

Yukari's face turned pale as she realized the severity of the situation. Her usual cheer was gone, replaced by panic as she glanced around, looking for an escape route. But there was none—the crowd had boxed her in.

Before the chaos could spiral further, Miya Oktyabrskaya and Lumi Törni stood simultaneously. Miya, her tone icy, addressed Anthony. "What do you want us to do with her?"

Lumi cracked her knuckles, her emerald eye glinting with cold fury. "She won't get far."

Anthony raised a hand, silencing the offers of immediate action. "She's Ooarai's problem first. Get her principal or commander on the line. Let them explain why she's here."

Harriet and Tyrone exchanged glances, then moved toward Yukari, effectively blocking her escape. Tyrone crossed his arms, towering over her. "Care to explain yourself, Akiyama?"

"I-I was just researching!" Yukari stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean any harm! I swear!"

Harriet leaned in, her voice low and dangerous. "Spying on an international meeting doesn't exactly scream 'harmless.'"

The Rodriguez twins called for order, and the crowd slowly began to calm. Yukari was escorted out of the stadium under heavy guard, her camera confiscated for review. The room remained tense, the incident sparking a deeper distrust of the Japanese Tankery Federation's schools.

As the meeting resumed, Anthony stood at the front of the room, his voice steady but firm. "This is exactly what we're up against. They don't just want control—they'll use any means necessary to get it. If we're going to fight back, we need to be just as united, just as determined. This isn't just about winning matches anymore—it's about protecting everything Tankery stands for."

The crowd erupted in applause, the unity among the schools solidified further by their shared anger. As the meeting continued, one thing became clear: the Federation had underestimated the resolve of the international Tankery community—and they were about to learn the hard way.

The makeshift holding cell in the stadium's lower levels was a dimly lit, cold room hastily repurposed from a storage area. It was small, barely larger than a closet, with a single steel bench bolted to the wall. Yukari Akiyama sat on the bench, her hands cuffed tightly in front of her, her usually bright and cheerful demeanor reduced to a pale, tear-streaked mask of fear.

The room's only other occupant was an L.P.U.A.M.C. guard, a tall, imposing woman in her early twenties with dark skin and sharp, calculating eyes. Her Marine Corps uniform bore the school's insignia, and strapped to her thigh was a Desert Eagle that gleamed ominously in the flickering fluorescent light.

Yukari fidgeted, glancing nervously at the guard, who stood silently by the door. The air was oppressive, the weight of her actions pressing down on her. She bit her lip, her mind racing. 'Maybe I can explain,' she thought. 'Maybe they'll understand...'

Summoning what little courage she had left, Yukari cleared her throat. "U-Um... excuse me, miss?"

The guard's sharp eyes flicked toward her but remained silent, her stoic expression unchanged.

"I... I didn't mean for things to get so out of hand," Yukari continued, her voice trembling. "I just love tanks, you know? I wasn't trying to hurt anyone. I just—"

Click.

The sound of the guard unholstering her Desert Eagle silenced Yukari mid-sentence. The massive handgun gleamed in the light as the guard calmly raised it, pressing the cold barrel firmly against Yukari's forehead. The weight of the weapon and its proximity froze Yukari in place, her breath hitching.

The guard's voice was low and deadly. "Shut. Up."

Yukari's eyes widened, tears welling up as the reality of her situation sank in. Her voice broke as she stammered, "I-I didn't mean—"

The guard applied a fraction more pressure with the barrel, her tone cutting like a knife. "I said. Shut. Up."

Yukari finally broke, the tears streaming down her cheeks as she sobbed quietly, her shoulders trembling. The guard pulled back the Desert Eagle, her gaze unyielding as she holstered the weapon. She crossed her arms, her stance unchanging as she resumed her watch by the door.

The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by Yukari's quiet cries. The guard didn't say another word, her presence a constant reminder of the consequences Yukari now faced.

The tense stillness was interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway. The door opened, and Anthony Grant stepped inside, his towering frame filling the small space. Behind him was Tyrone Williams, his expression a mix of curiosity and irritation.

Anthony's gaze swept the room, lingering on Yukari for a moment before turning to the guard. "Stand down," he said firmly. "I'll take it from here."

The guard nodded, her expression neutral as she stepped aside. Anthony turned to Yukari, his eyes narrowing as he studied her tear-streaked face. "You've got a lot of explaining to do, Akiyama."

Yukari looked up at Anthony, her voice trembling. "I-I didn't mean—"

"Save it," Anthony interrupted, his voice cold. "You knew exactly what you were doing. You infiltrated an international meeting, recorded classified information, and jeopardized the trust between schools. This isn't a game."

Tyrone leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "You're lucky we haven't turned you over to the Russians or the Finns. They're not exactly known for their patience with spies."

Yukari's sobs grew louder. "I wasn't trying to spy! I just wanted to learn about the tanks, that's all! I swear!"

Anthony's expression didn't waver. "And you thought sneaking in with a camera was the best way to do that? You're smarter than this, Yukari. Or maybe you're not."

After a long moment of silence, Anthony straightened, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Here's what's going to happen. We're confiscating your footage. You're going to sit here until Ooarai's principal or commander shows up to explain why you're here. Until then, you don't speak, you don't move, and you definitely don't pull another stunt like this."

Tyrone smirked faintly, shaking his head. "Hope you like sitting still. You're gonna be here a while."

Anthony turned to the guard. "Keep an eye on her. No unnecessary force."

The guard nodded, though her icy glare at Yukari suggested she'd need no encouragement to maintain discipline. Anthony and Tyrone left the room, the heavy door closing behind them with a loud clang.

Yukari sat alone in the cold, unwelcoming cell, her sobs the only sound in the oppressive silence. The guard remained unmoving by the door, her presence a constant reminder of Yukari's predicament.

For the first time, Yukari truly understood the gravity of her actions. This wasn't just a misstep—it was a betrayal. And she had a long way to go before she could even begin to make amends.

The courtyard of Ooarai Girls Academy was filled with the usual buzz of activity. Tanks rumbled as crews practiced maneuvers, students shouted commands, and the ocean breeze carried the scent of saltwater through the air. But the usual cheerfulness was tinged with unease—Yukari Akiyama, their bubbly, fluffy-haired tank nerd, had been missing for four days after her "research mission."

Miho Nishizumi stood near the Panzer IV, her arms crossed and a worried look on her face. Her crew members gathered around her, exchanging nervous glances.

"She's never been gone this long," Hana remarked, her tone calm but laced with concern.

"She probably got caught," Saori added, biting her lip. "But... this is Yukari. She's usually careful, right?"

Mako, half-asleep as usual, leaned against the Panzer IV. "Careful and Yukari aren't words I'd put together."

Miho sighed, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "I just hope she's okay."

Their conversation was interrupted by the distant roar of a jet engine. The students looked up to see a massive B-52 bomber soaring across the sky, its silhouette unmistakable against the clear blue backdrop.

"Is that... a bomber?" Saori asked, squinting up at the aircraft.

The plane passed over the school, and from its belly, something dropped. A small figure attached to a parachute floated toward the ground, swaying gently in the breeze.

"Wait... is that—" Hana began, but her words trailed off as the realization hit them.

As the parachute descended closer, the figure became unmistakable. It was Yukari—her signature fluffy hair somehow still intact despite her ordeal. But something was off. She was bound in chains, her arms pinned to her sides, and a bright yellow note was taped to her chest.

"Is that a note?" Saori asked, dumbfounded.

The students ran to the landing site, catching Yukari as she came down. The parachute crumpled around them, and Miho ripped the note off Yukari's chest. Written in crayon, in large, messy Japanese characters, was a single phrase:

"Fuck you, Japs!"

Miho's face turned crimson as she read it aloud, her voice a mix of embarrassment and disbelief. "Who... who would write this?!"

"Americans," Mako muttered dryly, yawning as she leaned against the Panzer IV.

They untangled the chains binding Yukari, and the fluffy-haired tank nerd collapsed onto the ground, trembling. Her wide eyes darted around as she mumbled incoherently.

"Yukari, are you okay?" Miho asked, kneeling beside her.

"Th-they... they had a Desert Eagle," Yukari whispered, her voice trembling. "It was so big... and cold..."

"What happened to you?!" Saori exclaimed, shaking her lightly. "Start from the beginning!"

Yukari took a shaky breath, her hands trembling as she clutched her knees. "I was... I was caught during the meeting. They... they knew I was filming. Grant-sama—he's terrifying. He stared at me like he could see my soul."

Saori gasped. "What did they do to you?"

"They... they tied me up," Yukari continued, her voice quivering. "They locked me in a room with a Marine guard who pressed a Desert Eagle to my head and told me to shut up. And then... and then..."

"Then what?!" Saori asked, gripping Yukari's shoulders.

Yukari couldn't say the WHAT the Chinese did to her after the two Americans left her cell... but it was mentally scary. "They dropped me out of a bomber," Yukari wailed, tears streaming down her face. "In chains! With this stupid note!"

Miho sighed, rubbing her temples. "This is bad. Really bad. If they're this angry at us, what's going to happen during the league?"

"They're sending a message," Hana said quietly. "And it's loud and clear."

As Yukari was helped to her feet and escorted to the infirmary, Miho couldn't shake the sinking feeling in her stomach. The International Tankery schools had made their stance clear—they weren't going to tolerate the Federation's underhanded tactics, and they weren't afraid to fight dirty if necessary.

Miho looked at the crayon note again, her hands shaking slightly. "This league is going to be a war."

"And we're not ready for it," Hana added solemnly.

For the first time, Miho wondered if the Japanese Tankery Federation had made a mistake—one that could cost them everything.