Spring, 1944. Near Targu Frumos, Romania.
The road to Targu Frumos stretched ahead, winding through fields just awakening under the spring sun. Farmhouses stood ruined along the roadside, their walls pockmarked and roofs half-collapsed from earlier shelling.
Over the rattle of engines, the Grossdeutschland Divisions' Panther column advanced steadily, their turrets scanning left and right, ever watchful for signs of Soviet armor.
At the head of the column, Oberst Krüger leaned forward in his cupola, binoculars pressed to his eyes. His Panther rumbled confidently, its tracks crunching over the uneven road.
Somewhere up ahead, Generalmajor Hasso von Manteuffel had ordered the column forward to bolster the Romanian defenses before Jassy — and there was no time to waste.
But as they rounded a bend near a small stand of birch trees, Krüger's eyes narrowed.
"Halt!" he barked into his microphone.
The command echoed back down the line. Engines clattered down to an idle.
Just off the road, half-hidden among tall grasses, sat a Panzer IV Ausf. H — but not any Panzer IV Krüger had ever seen.
Its paint was a smooth, chocolate-brown sheen, utterly unlike the standard dunkelgelb or the mottled ambush patterns they used on the Eastern Front. The Schürzen side skirts were intact. The machine looked... pristine.
And then there was the turret — where some kind of strange cartoonish fish insignia had been painted. But the painting was too elaborate and clear. On the hull there was another blue and white marking he had never seen before again too elaborate.
Krüger's brow furrowed. "What in God's name...?"
He keyed his microphone again. "All units, hold position. Grenadiers dismount and inspect."
Behind him, a squad of grenadiers jumped down from the half tracks that were following Panthers, fanning out cautiously, rifles at the ready.
No movement from the Panzer IV. No hatch opening. No radio signal crackling through the Luftwaffe ground net.
Krüger's Panther crept forward slowly, its gun barrel lowering just a fraction, watching, waiting.
The entire scene was frozen — like a photograph — except for the faint breeze stirring the grass.
Krüger's grip tightened on the cupola rim. Whatever this was, it didn't feel right.
Krüger stepped down from the Panther, boots crunching on the gravel as he slung his MP40 from his shoulder. The grenadiers moved cautiously, rifles raised, eyes flicking nervously over the strange tank.
"God above..." one murmured, staring at the large pink fish emblem on the turret skirt.
Krüger ran a gloved hand over the blue-and-white insignia painted on the hull. "This is German steel — no doubt. But these markings... this isn't Heer, not Waffen-SS, not Luftwaffe ground troops. Who the hell...?"
"Maybe a captured tank?" another soldier offered. "Painted over by the Soviets?"
Krüger shook his head. "No. The Soviets don't do this — look how clean it is. Look at the tracks, the skirts, the tools. This is straight from a factory or..." he didn't know what to say.
He leaned in slightly — and froze. A faint metallic clunk sounded from inside the Panzer IV.
"Movement," Krüger growled, voice low and sharp. "Raise weapons!"
The grenadiers snapped their rifles up, tense fingers on triggers.
Krüger squared his shoulders, stepping right up to the front of the Panzer IV, planting his boots under the glacis plate. His voice boomed out:
"This is Oberst Krüger of the Grossdeutschland Division! Panzer crew, come out! Hands in the air!"
For a tense heartbeat, there was only the sound of the breeze, the ticking of idling engines.
Then — a muffled voice from inside the tank. High-pitched, hurried — and unidentifiable. The voices were neither German, nor Romanian or even Soviet.
"Did you hear that?" one of the grenadiers whispered. "Do you know what they saying?" A grenadier nearby shook his head.
Inside the Panzer IV, Miho Nishizumi's heart raced. She glanced quickly around at her team.
"Nishizumi-dono, what are they saying?!" Yukari whispered, holding a shell on the rack beside her.
"They want us to come out — with our hands up," Miho replied, her German is shaky but serviceable. "They're... Grossdeutschland Division."
"W-what?!" Saori yelped. "What do we do?! I don't want to die single."
"Stay calm," Miho whispered, taking a deep breath. She tried to steady her shaking hands. "I... I'll go out first. Maybe I can talk to them."
Yukari's eyes were wide but determined. "I'll come with you, Nishizumi-dono!"
"Stay inside," Miho insisted. Then she looked at a dizzy and sleepy Mako on the driver seat "If anything goes wrong, you drive out of here."
"But if we do that, they might shoot at us." Yukari replied. As a tank enthusiast, she was restless. Plus she knew all about the vehicles used by any German division.
Outside, Krüger's patience was thinning.
"I said come out, now!" he barked. "Or we will open fire!"
Miho exhaled sharply, then reached up and began cranking open the commander's hatch.
The German grenadiers flinched, raising their rifles. Krüger's MP40 came up, trained on the opening.
And then — a small, brown-haired girl in a strange blue leather jacket slowly emerged, hands raised high, face pale with fear. She called out hesitantly in German:
"Please... don't shoot! We... we are not enemies!"
The grenadiers looked at each other in stunned silence. Krüger blinked, momentarily thrown off-guard by this out of world revelation.
"Who... who the hell are you...?" he whispered.
Krüger took a slow step forward, frowning hard. His MP40 stayed raised but wavered slightly.
"Who... are you?" he repeated, more forcefully this time. "Where is your unit? Speak!"
Miho's voice shook as she answered in halting German, "We... we are a school team! From... Japan. Please, we are not... part of this war!"
Krüger's eyes narrowed. School? Japan? What madness was this? His mind reeled, but his soldier's instincts kept him steady.
"Everyone out — now!" he barked.
Inside the Panzer IV, the Ankou Team exchanged panicked glances. Saori clutched Hana's hand tightly, while Yukari scrambled to open the loader's hatch. Mako, still drowsy and confused, mumbled, "Are we... captured...?"
Within moments, one by one, the girls climbed out: Yukari with hands up, trying not to look too fascinated by the surrounding German tanks; Hana graceful but pale; Saori shaking and blinking back tears; Mako yawning despite the tension.
One by one they stepped out of their hatches and came down from the tank standing in front of Kruger. Hana and Saori held on to each other, while Yukari clung behind Miho looking not at the soldiers with terror like the rest but at the tanks with fascination.
Meanwhile, Mako was already asleep while standing straight.
The grenadiers stared in open disbelief. They lowered their rifles slightly, unsure what to make of this surreal group of teenage girls in strange uniforms stepping out of a pristine tank.
Krüger circled them carefully, eyes sharp, weapon still ready.
"You speak German?" he asked looking at Miho.
She nodded quickly. "A little."
"Who are you? What school? What are you doing here?"
Miho struggled to find the words. "We... we are from Ōarai Girls' Academy... from Japan... This is a sport. Tankery. We — we were in a match."
Krüger's frown deepened. He glanced at his men, who looked equally bewildered. One grenadier murmured, "They're insane."
Krüger shook his head slowly, gripping the bridge of his nose. "This is no place for games, girl. This is the Eastern Front. Do you have any idea where you are?"
Miho swallowed hard. "We... we were in Japan... just before. We don't know how we came here."
Yukari, unable to contain herself, blurted out in Japanese, "Nishizumi-dono! Those are Grossdeutschland Panthers! Look, the Ausf. G — and the camouflage patterns, it's perfect!" She shuddered with excitement despite their dire situation.
Krüger raised a brow, glancing between the girls. "What did she say?"
Miho smiled nervously. "She... she likes tanks."
Krüger sighed, shaking his head. "God help me..." He turned and waved to his radio operator. "Get General von Manteuffel on the line. Tell him... we have a very strange situation."
Then, turning back to the girls, he lowered his weapon slightly, his voice hard but not cruel.
"For now, you stay with us. You don't run. You don't make trouble. Do you understand?"
Miho nodded quickly, turning to her team. "Stay calm. We stay with them."
The girls huddled closer together, exchanging fearful glances as the grenadiers cautiously surrounded them. Somewhere down the column, Panther engines rumbled back to life.
Krüger gave a final mutter under his breath:
"What in God's name have we stumbled into..." But he couldn't stand still. "Check the tank and see what you can find." He ordered the Grenadiers.
The grenadiers climbed carefully onto the Panzer IV, weapons raised, peering through the open hatches. One cautiously slid down inside, boots clanking on the pristine metal floor.
He expected the usual: shell racks, toolkits, maybe a few extra rounds tucked in odd places. What he found made him freeze.
"Herr feldwebel... you need to see this."
Krüger stepped forward, signaling for the girls to stay put. He climbed up onto the Panzer IV, peered in — and his brow furrowed deeper.
Inside, the shell racks were indeed full — Pzgr.39 armor-piercing shells, Sprgr.39 high-explosive rounds, even a few rare tungsten-cored Pzgr.40 shells, their sharp points glinting under the hatch light plus two 7.92x57mm mauser bullet belts, tracers.
But none of that was the problem.
Neatly tucked alongside the deadly ammunition were plush pillows, some shaped like flowers, one shaped like a little cat's head. A small vase sat bolted to the corner near the gunner's seat, holding an arrangement of brightly colored fresh flowers, carefully maintained.
And sitting on the commander's cupola shelf, like a guardian, was a light brown teddy bear, one ear covered in a tiny white bandage, its button eyes shining up blankly.
One of the grenadiers slowly picked up a small plastic card from the crew bench. "Sir... I found these."
He handed Krüger a stack of five ID cards — each printed with a photo of one of the girls now standing nervously outside. Their names were written in neat Japanese script, and the photos showed them smiling, dressed not in uniforms, but in school blazers, ribbons, and skirts.