She felt the cold of the warehouse around her. She felt the rust on her turret and hull. She could see the disrepair on her interior. She felt the loneliness. Alone.
Is there anyone I know left?
Stirring, she felt another cold wind. She shrugged it off, having been used to it a long time ago since the Senshā-do team was disbanded. Ever since, she was abandoned, left in this warehouse. At least, the girls who had been her crew had the decency to at least leave her a parting gift and a gentle touch, if it was their last moment together, to make it one happy memory. They thought of her as a friend, and a sister even. She could never forget their time together, the caressing, words, and the time they spent together. She never forgot the tearful parting when the team was disbanded, and when they graduated. After that, she never met them again, and her thoughts would always wonder to them.
She silently wished for them to live a happy life.
Feeling a stir, she braced herself for the wind that came. After all, she was a tank, a proud medium tank known as the Panzer IV. She had brought Oarai to victory in those years past, and her time was up. She understood that. She had carried the baton for a long time, and now it was time to hand it off to the next generation.
While she wished that she had a human body at times, she was content with her rest.
Then voices came in the distance. Gazing at them, she noticed four girls: one, with auburn short hair, the second, with flowing black hair, the third, equally long orange hair with glasses, and the last one with wavy brown that went to her jaw. They were all talking to each other about this tank, meaning her, save for the auburn who maintained a short distance from the rest and appeared at a glance colder than ice. Having a similarly emotionless commander during her time as the pride of Oarai, she knew that this one had been in some traumatic experience of sorts. With her eyes, or rather, what would translate to an eye, she read straight through the auburn's eye and read all. She read a tale of nothing save pain and heartache.
A tank in the river.
A match lost to save someone from certain death.
A daughter disgraced, and being forced back into the same sport that she'd wanted to leave.
A father killed, and her standing by helpless, unable to do a thing.
She had seen others through similar experiences, and being a tank that survived the Second World War, she had seen her own sisters die on the battlefield, their screams etched forever into her memory.
Lifting a spiritual hand, she ran it through the auburn in a comforting manner.
After being lifted onto the hard concrete, she saw the girls she'd seen earlier head in with mop buckets, sponges, and the like. One of them was wielding a high-pressure hose.
What the fuck are they doing? she mused.
She got her answer soon enough.
In her seventeen years of life, Yukari felt that she could rather easily distinguish any form of tank from each other. That being said she was able to distinguish the Panzer IV almost immediately. Despite the disrepair it had seen, it still was functional if one would just, of course, flip it upside down.
Running a hand across the tank, she suddenly froze. Staring about, she saw no one. Everyone had left.
The feeling seemed to come from the tank itself. Yukari felt a sudden warm feeling from the vehicle as an aura of welcoming emanated from the tank. Running her hand on the tank further, she felt a strange feeling, like there will be more things to come.
As if it can talk...
After everyone cleaned her out from top to bottom, they left the hangar and shut the door. Interestingly, some total idiot had left the lights on, leaving her to her thoughts as she pondered why on Anchorage would they drag her from her old spot and place her in this place, seeing the Senshā-do team as being disbanded.
She also noticed the girl that they called "Yukari" or something along those lines, step close enough to her that she could literally feel her breath. Feeling what on a tank would be analogous to a human heart suddenly leap from its spot as she was immobilized (zero fuel), she felt a hand gently caress her all along. The girl then climbed up onto her, sitting on the roof of the turret, and she suddenly felt a fresh wave of heat—despite the hangar being rather cool. The girl then placed her hand and ran it on her turret roof—on what translates to the head on a human body, and she suddenly felt herself heat up so hard that had her ammo rack been loaded it would certainly cooked off.
"I know you're a friend," whispered the girl.
The concept of this came from watching GuP and Kancolle one after the other. Weirdly, the concept was what I kept a long time ago, and stumbled across about a few days ago. I happened tobe in a writer's block at the time, and whipped up this along with Final Frontier at the same time.
I make no solid promises on the update, though. Shaky bus, sudden change of personal papers, lockdown, and a big fucking propaganda loudspeaker and writing don't mix well.
'Till next time, readers.