Krüger flipped through them slowly, his face unreadable.
Then the grenadier handed him a small leather-bound diary, the cover scuffed but clean.
Krüger opened it, eyes scanning the neat, handwritten Japanese lines inside. Page after page of careful notes, diagrams of tank formations, tactical sketches, even doodles of smiling tanks with little faces.
Only one word jumped out at him, written in Roman letters at the bottom of a page:
"Panzerkraft."
Krüger closed the diary with a soft snap, exhaling slowly. He climbed back down from the tank and looked at Miho, his gaze sharp but no longer purely hostile.
"These things..." he murmured, gesturing vaguely toward the tank. "This is not Soviet. This is not ours. This is something else entirely."
He turned to his grenadiers. "Hold your fire. Keep close, but no shooting unless they make trouble."
The soldiers nodded hesitantly, still exchanging baffled looks. Krüger stepped closer to Miho, lowering his MP40 slightly.
Krüger stood with arms folded, face tight as he looked over the five girls. He pointed sharply at Miho.
"Alright, Mädchen — talk. Who are you? Who are they? Where do you come from? And what are you doing with that Panzer IV?"
Miho swallowed hard, gathering her courage. "My name is Nishizumi Miho. I am the commander."
Krüger nodded curtly. "And them?"
Miho gestured gently to Yukari. "Akiyama Yukari — she's our loader. She knows everything about tanks."
Krüger's brow creased sharply. He glanced at Yukari's small frame, then back at Miho. "She loads the shells? Loader? Those Pzgr.39 rounds weigh more than she does!" He muttered under his breath in German, shaking his head. "Unmöglich..."
Miho hurried on, pointing to Hana. "Isuzu Hana — she's our gunner. She... she also does flower arranging."
Krüger gave her a sharp glance. "Flower arranging... and she handles the gun? So that's why there was that flower vase by the gunner seat?! Good God."
Next, Miho pointed to Saori. "Takebe Saori — our radio operator."
Krüger gave Saori a curt nod, noting how she kept glancing nervously between the soldiers.
Finally, Miho gestured to Mako, who stood slightly apart, head drooping, eyes barely open. "Reizei Mako — she's our driver."
Krüger stared. "She's falling asleep on her feet."
Miho nodded. "She has low blood pressure."
Krüger blinked, frowning deeper. "Low blood pressure? How in the name of the Führer's moustache can she drive a 25-ton tank like that?" He let out a sharp, incredulous breath.
One of the grenadiers let out a soft chuckle, quickly silenced by Krüger's cutting glance.
Krüger paced a few steps, turning the names and roles over in his head. "So. A bunch of Japanese schoolgirls — one half asleep, one who arranges flowers, one who loves tanks too much — and you're commanding a combat-ready Panzer IV, fully armed, in the middle of a German division on the Eastern Front."
Miho lowered her head slightly. "We... we don't know how we got here. We were in Japan, doing... tankery uh panzerkraft. It's a sport. Not real war."
Krüger circled the girls slowly, his MP40 still raised. His eyes flicked between their faces and the bizarre Panzer IV.
"Japan?" he repeated coldly. "You expect me to believe that? The Japanese are our allies, yes—but they are thousands of kilometers away, behind Soviet lines, British fleets, and the entire damn Wehrmacht!" He stepped closer, looming over Miho. "Try again, Mädchen."
Miho flinched but held her ground. "I—I don't know how we got here. One moment, we were in a match, and then—"
"A match?" Krüger's voice dripped with disdain. He snatched the small diary from the grenadier's hands, flipping through it. His frown deepened at the sketches—tank formations alongside doodles of smiling tanks. "This is nonsense. Are you spies? Partisans? Some Bolshevik trick?"
Yukari suddenly blurted out in rapid Japanese, "Nishizumi-dono! Tell him to check the engine serial number! The WaPrüf stamp is authentic—no Soviet copy would have that!"
Krüger's gaze snapped to her. "What did she say?"
Miho swallowed. "She—she said you can check the tank's markings. It's... real German steel."
A grenadier leaned in. "Herr Oberst, the bolts, the welding—it's all our work. But the paint... I've never seen this shade."
Krüger's jaw tightened. He turned back to Miho. "If I find out you're lying—"
A roar of engines cut him off. The command vehicle skidded to a halt, and Manteuffel stormed out.
Just then, a command vehicle approached the group, Yukari's eyes gleamed as she saw the authentic command vehicle stop in front of them.
"Krüger!"
Krüger snapped to attention as Generalmajor Hasso von Manteuffel got down from the vehicle, eyes flashing with anger.
"What is the meaning of this delay? The Soviets are counterattacking, and you have my entire column at a standstill!"
Krüger saluted crisply. "Herr General, we... have encountered an unusual situation."
Manteuffel's eyes narrowed, flicking over the five girls and their odd Panzer IV.
"Children?" he growled. "You held up Grossdeutschland for this?"
Krüger held his ground. "They operate that Panzer, sir. Fully armed, functional, loaded with live rounds. But they are... not soldiers."
Manteuffel's eyes locked onto the Panzer IV, then the girls. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, abruptly, he barked a laugh.
"Kruger, either you've gone mad, or God has a sense of humor." He strode forward, ignoring the girls' flinch, and rapped his knuckles against the Panzer IV's hull. "Pristine. Fully armed. And crewed by... schoolgirls." He turned to Miho. "You. Can you fight?"
Miho hesitated. "We... we practice tankery. Senshadō. But not—"
"Senshadō?" Manteuffel repeated, butchering the pronunciation. He waved a hand. "I don't care. That tank is German steel, and the Soviets won't pause to ask for your age." He leaned in, voice dropping. "Here's how this will go. You fight with us today. If you live, I'll decide whether you're a miracle or a menace. Understood?"
Behind him, Krüger stiffened. "Herr General, you can't possibly—"
"Understood?!" Manteuffel snapped, ignoring Krüger.
Miho nodded shakily. "Hai—I mean, ja."
Manteuffel smirked. "Good. Welcome to Grossdeutschland." He spun on his heel, shouting to his adjutant. "Get a Kriegsberichter here after the battle. If they survive, Berlin will love this.".
Miho nervously looked at her friends, "Let's get into the tank, we are moving with them."
Everyone looked tense but got in. Except for Mako who was just drowsy as ever and Yukari who was more excited than anyone else. She was happy to work beside actual German armour for once in her life.
Inside the Panzer IV, the hatch clanged shut above them, sealing them in. Miho sat stiffly in the commander's seat, her fingers trembling as she clipped on the intercom headset.
Outside, the massive German column had begun to rumble forward — half-tracks, Panthers, Tigers, artillery haulers. The road was thick with black smoke, engines roaring, exhaust choking the air.
Miho closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steady her breath. This isn't a senshadō match. They were heading into real battle. Something Miho never thought even in her worst nightmares.
She could feel it. Not just in the tank, but around them. The air outside was thick, heavy, wrong — like the whole world was holding its breath before it screamed.
Saori's voice crackled in her ear. "M-Miporin... what are we doing? What does the Germans want us to do?!"
Hana's voice came next, quiet, controlled — but Miho could hear the undertone of dread. "Miho-san... will they kill us out here?"
"No, Miho replied after a brief silence. They want to us to join their division and fight in the actual war."
Saori and Hana fell silent. There was obvious worry and tension in their eyes.
"Are they insane?! We are not soldiers. How can we fight?!" Hana asked looking worriedly at Miho.
Saori cried, "Noo, I don't want to die single!" This threw Miho even more into worry. While Hana held her hands to try and calm her down.
Yukari suddenly burst in, her usual energy undimmed. "Nishizumi-dono! Listen We're safe!"
Miho blinked. "Yukari...?!"
"Ours isn't an ordinary Panzer IV!" Yukari said excitedly. "It's a senshadō variant! Reinforced with carbon-layered walls, specifically to protect the crew. We're safer than any real German tank!"
"I'm positive! Not even a Karl-Gerät can breach this!" Yukari practically beamed. "We'll get out of it alive, Nishizumi-dono!"
Miho felt her stomach twist.
She looked over at Mako — slumped at the controls, barely awake. At Hana, pale and silent, hands folded tightly on her lap. At Saori, blinking back tears, clutching the radio. And at Yukari — the only one glowing with excitement, thrilled by the history, the machinery, the dream of this war.
Miho pressed her hands over her face for a moment. This is madness. Utter madness.
Outside, the radio squawked — urgent German voices:
"Bolschevitze Panzer! North ridge! Incoming!"
Miho's blood went cold. She leaned forward, eyes wide, hearing the unmistakable distant thump-thump-thump of heavy artillery, the rattling cough of Soviet machine guns.
They were heading straight into it. Her hands closed into fists. She forced herself upright, her voice sharpening.
"Everyone! Listen to me!" she snapped into the intercom. "I know you're scared. I am too. But we have to stay together. We have to fight. We can't just hide — they're expecting us to pull our weight!"
She heard Saori sniffle softly. Hana murmured a quiet, "Hai, Miho-san." Yukari gave a sharp, "Understood!" And Mako? Just a slow, groggy, "...okay."
Miho exhaled, wiping a hand across her face.
Outside, the ground trembled — the distant crack of tank guns firing, the low whistle of incoming shells. Miho's heart pounded so hard she thought she might faint.
Her hands tightened on the edge of the cupola. She pulled herself up, just enough to peek through the slits of the cupola.
Through the haze of smoke and dust, she could see them now: Soviet T-34s, massing on the horizon, their turrets swinging forward. Black dots of infantry scurrying behind.
And still the German column advanced, engines roaring, the spear tip of Grossdeutschland plunging straight into the fire.
Her voice was steady. Only she could hear the tremor in her own heart.