Chapter 28

Flashback in the city of Houston:

The scene unfolds outside a charming two-story house, where ten-year-old Don and his eight-year-old little brother, Red, are engrossed in a game of football. Their laughter fills the air as they playfully tackle each other, ending up in a pile on the ground. Their carefree play is interrupted by the gentle voice of their mother calling them from the house.

"Don and Red, come inside! Your uncle and your cousin have sent us a letter from the war front in Afghanistan," their mother announces.

"Really?!" Red exclaims with excitement.

"It's been a while since we heard from Uncle Doyal and Cousin Leonardo," Don remarks as the brothers quickly scramble to their feet. They rush inside the house, following their mother, who leads them to the living room. With eager anticipation, she opens the letter before her two sons.

he anticipation palpable. Don and Red gather close to their mother, their young faces reflecting a mixture of curiosity and concern. She begins to read the words penned by their loved ones in a distant and perilous land.

"Dear Family,

We hope this letter finds you in good health and high spirits. It's been quite an adventure here on the Afghan front. The camaraderie among the soldiers keeps us going, and we've made some lifelong friends. We've been through our fair share of challenges, but our training and determination have seen us through.

Leonardo has been quite the trooper. He's always the one to lift our spirits with his humor and optimism, even in the toughest of times. We can't thank him enough for his support.

We miss home, of course. The memories of those Sunday barbecues at your place, Don, and Red's endless curiosity bring smiles to our faces during the darkest moments. We cherish the pictures you sent.

Please convey our love to everyone. Tell Red we're proud of him for making the football team, and Don, keep working hard at school. We can't wait to see you all again.

Stay safe and keep us in your thoughts.

With love, Uncle Doyal and Cousin Leonardo"

As their mother finishes reading, a mix of emotions washes over the family. Don and Red exchange glances, their hearts filled with pride and a yearning for the return of their beloved family members. Their mother smiles through the tears in her eyes, grateful for this connection to their distant loved ones.

"P.S.

Before sending this letter to you, I managed to secure some special gifts for Don and Red that Cousin Leonardo acquired from the enemy we captured. For Don, here's a pearl-handled knife from one of the Taliban leaders we apprehended. Take note of the inscription and the superior craftsmanship."

With eager anticipation, Don unsheathes the knife from its cover and gazes at the inscription etched onto the blade: 'Never give up in a fight.' The words resonate with him, and he holds the knife with a sense of reverence and determination.

"And for you, Red," their mother continues, "here's an airman jacket that the Taliban had made for their helicopter crews. Don't worry, I've removed all their markings, but I left you two patches that you might like."

Red eagerly takes the airman jacket, examining it with fascination. On the jacket, he spots the two patches: one with the emblem of an airman and another with an intricate design. He grins from ear to ear, feeling a connection to the brave individuals who served in the skies

End of Flashback 

Japan, in the city of Kumamoto:

Doyal, still dressed in his U.S. Army officer uniform, emerged from the meeting he had attended to learn about the League's Professional Tankery team's activities on the Island of Oshima. This event coincided with the American Tankery League and Federation Sensha Do match, involving selected high schools. He exited the building, his thoughts filled with discussions of tanks and strategy.

As he strolled through the bustling markets, making his way back to the hotel where he and his wife, Delia, were staying during their business trip, Doyal's attention was drawn to a beautifully crafted basket on display. He couldn't resist the urge to stop and examine it closely.

Observing Doyal's interest, the store owner, a courteous Japanese merchant, approached him and spoke in Japanese, "If this is a romantic date you're planning, sir, may I suggest this lavender one?"

Doyal chuckled, appreciating the store owner's assumption. He cleared his throat and replied in Japanese, "No, no, it's not a romantic date I'm having. It's for a special occasion." With that, he retrieved his wallet and paid the store owner, a warm smile exchanged between them as Doyal held the lavender basket, a token of the unique experience he and Delia were sharing during their time in Japan.

As Doyal continued his leisurely stroll through the bustling marketplace, his observant eyes caught sight of a delicate moonflower struggling in the harsh sunlight. Moved by a natural instinct, he gently relocated the flower to a cooler, shaded spot. With the change in environment, the moonflower began to bloom, its petals unfurling to reveal its exquisite beauty.

Doyal couldn't help but smile at the sight. He mumbled to himself, "The moonflower likes partial shade," appreciating the simple pleasure of helping a living thing thrive.

The flower merchant, who had been quietly observing this small act of kindness, approached Doyal and bowed in gratitude for his consideration. Doyal returned the bow with a nod and continued his exploration of the market, his heart warmed by the connection he had made, however fleeting, with the people and nature of Kumamoto

As time passed and Doyal continued his leisurely walk through the bustling market, the weariness of his journey began to catch up with him. He found a nearby bench and gently placed the lavender basket he had purchased beside him. Relaxing, he let out a contented sigh.

However, his moment of reprieve was interrupted by an unexpected encounter. A younger person, seemingly desperate and misguided, approached him and brandished a knife, demanding his money. Doyal observed the situation with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"What are you doing?" Doyal asked calmly, his years of military experience allowing him to maintain composure even in this tense moment.

"I'm mugging you! What do you think I'm doing, you Yankee?" the mugger replied, keeping the knife pointed at Doyal.

Doyal couldn't help but notice the poor form and stance of the would-be mugger. With a bemused expression, he remarked, "With that stance? Please, I don't even feel intimidated by your posture."

Perplexed by Doyal's response, the mugger insisted, "What? What are you talking about, you old Yankee? Just give me your money!"

Doyal sighed, a mixture of amusement and exasperation evident on his face. With graceful ease, he rose from the bench and continued, "With a poor stance like yours, you're unbalanced and easily knocked over." In a swift motion, Doyal disarmed the mugger and brought him to the ground, tossing the knife aside.

Extending a hand to help the fallen mugger up, Doyal continued, "A solid stance makes you a much more serious threat." He demonstrated a proper stance, and the young man, though shaken, mimicked Doyal's movements.

"There we go, like that," Doyal encouraged. "But to be honest, you don't look like the criminal type."

The poor mugger, now sitting next to Doyal on the bench, began to open up. "I know, I'm... I'm just confused, that's all. Look, I'm sorry for trying to rob you, sir," he admitted, his desperation giving way to remorse.

Doyal, ever the patient teacher and compassionate soul, placed a reassuring hand on the young man's shoulder 

"So you really think I could be a good masseur?" the former mugger asked, his voice tinged with hope as Doyal poured them both some of his homemade tea, the aroma filling the air.

"Of course!" Doyal replied with genuine encouragement. He took a sip of his tea, savoring its flavor and enjoying the camaraderie of this unexpected conversation.

The young man's eyes sparkled with newfound confidence. "Wow... This is so great. No one has ever believed in me like this," he expressed with gratitude.

"While it's always best to believe in oneself, a little help from others can be a great blessing. That's something I've always told my nephew," Doyal imparted, sharing the wisdom he had accumulated over the years.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, bridging the gap between two strangers who had, for a brief moment, crossed paths in the most unexpected way. Doyal found satisfaction in planting a seed of positivity and hope in the young man's heart, leaving him with newfound dreams and aspirations.

Once their talk was done, Doyal bid the young man farewell and headed to the fancy hotel where he and his wife, Delia, were staying during their business trip. He checked in at the reception and took the elevator up to the fourth floor. As he entered their room, he saw Delia, freshly showered and dressed in her casual attire, while her business clothes, befitting her role as the Chairwoman of the American Tankery League, were in the process of being cleaned. 

"Welcome back, dear," Delia greeted Doyal with a loving smile as he entered their hotel room.

Doyal returned her smile and moved closer, wrapping his arms around her in a warm embrace. "It's good to be back, my love," he replied, planting a tender kiss on her cheek.

They settled into the cozy room, its ambiance exuding comfort and tranquility. Doyal shared the stories of his day, from the business meeting to the encounter with the misguided young man in the market. Delia listened attentively, her affection for her husband evident in her eyes.

As they relaxed, Doyal took a moment to appreciate the subtle luxuries of their surroundings—the plush furnishings, the view of the city outside their window, and the sense of peace that enveloped them. It was a far cry from the hectic world of tankery competitions and military duties, and it provided a welcome respite for both of them.

Delia, with her remarkable career and strong presence in the tankery world, had always been a source of inspiration for Doyal. In her, he found not only a loving partner but also a true confidant.

As the two sat together, enveloped in the warmth of their surroundings, Delia's voice broke the tranquility of the moment.

"Hey, dear... Do you know what day it is today?" she asked, her tone carrying a weight of sadness.

Doyal's expression shifted, and he replied softly, "Yeah, it's October 15..."

"Which you know what happened on that day," Delia added, her voice tinged with sorrow.

Doyal's heart sank as he nodded in acknowledgment. He turned off the television, silencing the electronic hum that had filled the room. With a heavy heart, he moved to the kitchen, determined to create a moment of solace for both of them.

Preparing a fresh pot of tea, Doyal brought it to the small coffee table between them. He carefully poured the tea into two cups, the steam curling upward like wisps of lost memories.

With a poignant sense of purpose, Doyal retrieved an old photograph from a nearby drawer. The image captured their son, Leonardo, a Lieutenant in the military during the Afghanistan war. In the photo, he stood proudly alongside Doyal, the bond of father and son evident in their smiles.

It was a day etched in their hearts—the day a mission had gone tragically wrong. Doyal had sent Leonardo and his squad in search of a cache of weapons the Taliban were suspected of hiding. But the mission had led to an ambush, resulting in the loss of five brave Marines, including their beloved son, who had heroically tried to save his comrades.

In their hotel room, Doyal and Delia stared at the photograph, their tea cups resting in their hands. Silence enveloped them, carrying the weight of unspoken grief.

Doyal's voice trembled as he finally broke the silence. "Happy Birthday, my son... If only I hadn't sent you on that mission..." Tears welled up in his eyes, a testament to the enduring pain of loss that still haunted their hearts.

As Doyal's voice quivered with emotion, he sang the hauntingly beautiful lullaby that had once cradled their son to sleep. The room felt heavy with the weight of their shared grief, yet it was also filled with the enduring love they held for their dear Leonardo.

"Leaves from the vine... Falling so slow... Like fragile tiny shells... Drifting in the foam... Little soldier boy..." His voice broke, and tears streamed down his face, but he pressed on with the song. "Comes marching home... Brave soldier boy... Comes marching home..."

Delia's eyes welled with tears as she listened to the heartfelt melody. She knew that, in this moment, the lullaby served as a bridge between the past and the present, a way to keep their son's memory alive.

As the last notes of the lullaby faded into the silence of the room, Doyal and Delia sat together, their hearts heavy with loss but also warmed by the enduring connection they shared with their son. In that shared grief, they found solace and a deep sense of love that transcended time and distance.

The new day bathed the Federation meeting hall in gentle morning light as Doyal sat peacefully, still dressed in his military uniform. He sipped his tea, patiently awaiting his wife Delia, who was engrossed in discussions with the President of the American Tankery League. Their conversation revolved around the aftermath of the war game, specifically concerning the students who had missed a substantial part of their education while participating in the match.

Unbeknownst to Doyal, Shihio Nishizumi had quietly taken a seat right in front of him. Her presence was marked by her unmistakable aura of authority and prestige. She addressed him with a nod to his legendary status.

"So, you're the legendary Lieutanted Colonel Doyal Houston, the Second Napoleon of the West and Soldier," Shiho remarked. Doyal responded with a faint smile as he finished his tea.

"It has been a while since I was called by that nickname," Doyal replied, gently placing his empty tea cup aside, his attention fully focused on Shiho. "So, what do I owe this pleasant conversation with a member of the famous Nishizumi family?"

Shiho leaned in slightly, her expression serious yet inquisitive. "Well, I spoke to your wife about your nephew, Don Houston... S-Rank Commander in The Davy Crockett and Hero of the Dallas Incident. Your wife told me many great things about him, but she never told me how he got into Tankery and accepted this match."

Doyal considered her words, his hand gently rubbing his chin as he sipped his tea, contemplating his response. After a moment, he lowered his teacup and addressed Shiho with a thoughtful tone. "Hmm... Well, the reason she didn't tell you much about my nephew is that he went through a challenging childhood... Before I share that story, I'd like to know how well you know my family name, The Houstons. What are your thoughts about us?"

Shiho regarded Doyal with a measured gaze, her thoughts gathering before she responded. "The Houston name is synonymous with excellence in the field of tankery. Your family has a storied history and an impressive lineage of tank commanders. Your nephew, Don, is a testament to the Houston legacy, and he has earned his place as a respected commander in his own right."

She paused for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "However, I sense there is more to your family's story than what is commonly known. Legends often conceal deeper truths. If you are willing to share the untold parts of your family's journey, I would be honored to listen."

"In the early days of Texas, before it became a part of the United States, my Great Grandfather Sam Houston played a pivotal role in the struggle for Texan independence from Mexico. He faced the formidable Mexican President, Santa Anna, with courage and determination," Doyal explained.

"As our nation was torn apart by the Civil War, he dedicated himself to preventing Texas from seceding and joining the Confederacy. Despite his lifelong efforts to unite Texas with the land of the free, he couldn't sway the Texas Senate. On his deathbed, he uttered his final words, 'Texas, Margaret, Texas,' with his wife by his side."

Doyal paused, the weight of that history evident in his eyes. "After his passing, my Grandfather carried on his legacy. The Civil War ended, and my Grandfather became a rancher. My father, born into this legacy, worked alongside him on the ranch until he eventually became a U.S. Senator during World War II."

He took another sip of his tea, the past and present converging in his thoughts. "It was after that devastating war that I was born, and four years later, my brother, Vince Houston, came into the world."

Shiho listened attentively, her respect for the Houston family legacy deepening with each revelation. The tale of resilience and unwavering dedication to a cause ran through their blood, and it was a story worth preserving and honoring

Doyal's reminiscence continued, delving into his own upbringing and the competitive spirit that defined his relationship with his younger brother, Vince. As he spoke, the memories of their childhood rivalry came flooding back.

"We Houstons raised our children under intense pressure," Doyal admitted. "My younger brother, Vince, and I were no exception. We were typical brothers, always competitive, always pushing each other to excel. Sometimes our fights were like battles, but it was all part of growing up."

He then shifted his focus to his high school years, where his own path began to take shape. "In my high school days, I became one of the top ten leading commanders in the state. It was during that time that I met my lovely wife, Delia. She and I faced off in the Association 45th Champion Tournament, and I was fortunate enough to win, earning me the nickname 'The Second Napoleon of the West.'"

The tone in Doyal's voice changed as he ventured into more somber territory. "After high school, I was young and perhaps a bit too foolish. I believed I was invincible, the best military soldier in all of Texas. That arrogance led me to enlist myself in the Vietnam War."

Doyal's gaze seemed to drift into the past as he continued to recount his experiences during the Vietnam War. His voice carried the weight of those memories, and Shiho listened with a deep sense of respect for the sacrifices he had made.

"In Vietnam," he began, his voice tinged with a mix of reflection and gravity, "I faced a different kind of battlefield. It was a brutal, unforgiving war, where survival often seemed like the greatest victory. I learned valuable lessons in those harsh times, lessons that would shape me into the man I am today."

He paused, recalling the camaraderie and the hardships he had shared with his fellow soldiers. "I forged bonds with comrades that ran deeper than blood. We depended on each other for our very lives, and that shared experience created a brotherhood that transcended any rivalry I had with my actual brother."

"In the 1980s, when Delia and I got married, we welcomed our first son, Leonardo Houston, into our lives. He was my firstborn, and I loved him dearly," Doyal shared, a sense of pride and affection evident in his words. "But for my younger brother, Vince, my accomplishments seemed to be a source of bitterness and jealousy. It created a divide between us that was often difficult to bridge."

He continued, "Then, in the 2000s, my younger brother became a father himself. He had my nephew, Don Houston, and three years later, another son, Red Houston. While I was proud of my brother for starting his own family, he seemed to view me as someone who stood in the way of the recognition and pride he sought."

"As the years passed," Doyal continued, "it became clear that Vince and I were on different paths, each seeking our own sense of accomplishment and recognition. Our rivalry, rooted in childhood competition, evolved into something deeper, marked by the weight of unspoken expectations and ambitions."

He sighed, a mixture of understanding and regret coloring his words. "While I cherished the achievements of my own family, Vince seemed to view them as a reminder of what he hadn't achieved. It was a strain on our relationship, one that I wish could have been different."

He recounted with a heavy heart, "My son, Leonardo, joined me during my tenure as a Major in the Afghanistan War. He served as my beloved Lieutenant, a testament to his courage and dedication. But one fateful mission, the very one I sent him on, resulted in an ambush that claimed his life. It was a loss that shattered me, and I lost the will to continue fighting. I left Afghanistan, eventually attaining the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. Yet, even as I moved forward, the memory of my firstborn son remained."

Doyal's voice quivered as he spoke of the pivotal role his two nephews played in his life. "I turned my attention to my two nephews, Don and Red, watching over them as if they were my own. When my younger brother received a recommendation letter from our old school, Vermont Academy, he pushed them hard, and they became members of Vermont's new squad, The Dogs of War."

His expression grew solemn as he continued, "I tried to caution my brother against sending his sons to the Dallas Match, but he wouldn't listen. When the match finally began, none of us could have foreseen the horror that would unfold. The association we had once played for in our high school years had orchestrated something unthinkable. After the match ended, we were confronted with a devastating scene—over four thousand body bags lay on the floor, and only five hundred boys had survived. We clung to hope that Don and Red had made it through, but the truth was far more heartbreaking."

Doyal's words conveyed the profound tragedy that had befallen his family and the unimaginable loss they had suffered during the Dallas Match. The pain of that memory still echoed in his heart.

"As we searched among the survivors," Doyal's voice trembled with the weight of the memories, "we finally found Don, but he was gravely injured, having paid a terrible price for the actions of his squad. His betrayal of their actions weighed heavily on him. We were relieved that he had survived, but it was clear that he had endured unimaginable trauma."

He paused for a moment, composing himself, before continuing, "But for Red... our hopes were in vain. He didn't make it through the horrors of that match. The loss of my nephew, my brother's son, was yet another devastating blow to our family. It was a tragedy that shook us to our core, leaving scars that may never fully heal."

"After the loss of Red," he continued, his voice carrying the anguish of those difficult times, "my younger brother, overwhelmed by grief, placed the blame on Don and lashed out at him. It became clear that he was struggling to cope with the loss of his younger son, and I had to step in to prevent any further harm from coming to my nephew. I couldn't stand by and let family destroy itself."

He paused, a deep sadness settling in his eyes, before resuming his story. "But the hardships for Don didn't end there. Months later, he faced yet another devastating loss when his mother took her own life. His father, my younger brother, abandoned him, leaving Don to navigate the aftermath of the Dallas Incident on his own."

Doyal's expression hardened with anger as he recounted the abandonment of his nephew. "I was furious with my brother for leaving his own son in such a vulnerable state. Don had already suffered so much from the Dallas Incident, and to be abandoned in his time of need was unforgivable."

He then shifted to a more recent development in Don's life. "When we took Don in, he was deeply traumatized, and initially, he was hesitant to join the American Tankery League when he entered his sophomore year. He feared that I might follow in my brother's footsteps."

Doyal's voice softened as he recalled the turning point in Don's journey. "But later, while I was serving in the military and Delia became the Chairwoman of the League, Don made a decision that surprised me. He signed up to attend Davy Crockett High School and join the League. I was puzzled as to why he hadn't mentioned it to me, and when I asked Delia, she explained that he was afraid I would react like his own father had."

Doyal's voice softened with a mix of pride and concern as he spoke of Don's remarkable journey in tankery.

"During his junior year," he continued, "Don led his school's tankery team to the championship, though they ultimately didn't win. But that setback didn't deter him. He pressed on, continuing to lead his team. By the time his senior year came around, he had achieved an undefeated record and emerged as the Champion of the League tournament. He had earned the coveted S Rank of Commander."

A hint of sadness flickered in Doyal's eyes as he shared his feelings about Don's reluctance to discuss tankery with him. "Despite his impressive achievements, Don rarely talks to me about tankery. I know he still harbors the fear that I might judge him or see him as a failure. But that's not how I see him."

He emphasized with a deep sincerity, "What I see in Don is a strong and resilient individual who's been grappling with his past. I'm immensely proud of him, and I only wish he could express his feelings about tankery to me."

"As Don prepared to head to the island of Oshima as the 'Marshal Commander,' I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride," Doyal shared, his emotions raw and sincere. "It was heartening to see that young people from different schools across the United States had chosen to follow him into battle. But as he departed, I could sense that he still carried the weight of his past and the fear of my judgment."

He continued, his words filled with the love he felt for his nephew. "What I truly wanted to convey to Don before he left was that I am immensely proud of him. I wanted to assure him that my love for him is unwavering, regardless of the choices he makes or the path he follows."

"You think what I said satisfied your answer Miss Nishizumi?" Doyal said as he pour himself a another glass of tea.

Doyal's question brought Shiho back to the present moment. She met his gaze with a thoughtful expression, appreciating the honesty and depth of his narrative.

"Lieutenant Colonel Houston," she began, her tone respectful, "you have shared a profound and heartfelt account of your family's history, your own experiences, and your feelings toward your nephew, Don. Your words have provided valuable insight into the complexities of your family dynamics and your deep desire to connect with and support Don."

She paused for a moment before continuing, "While I am grateful for your openness and candor, it is not for me to judge your story or provide a final answer. Your journey, and that of your family, is uniquely your own, and the path to reconciliation with Don is a deeply personal one. What I can offer is my understanding and empathy, and I hope that sharing your story has brought you some measure of catharsis."

"By the way Miss Nishizumi I always wonder where is your Husband If that is fine for me to ask." Doyal said 

Doyal's question about Shiho's husband brought a somber and reflective mood to their conversation. For a moment, Shiho was lost in her thoughts, her gaze distant as she remembered the past.

After a pause, she finally spoke, her voice carrying a hint of sadness. "My husband and I... we had a disagreement about the future of our children, Maho and Miho. It was a difficult time for us, and we parted ways." Her words were measured, revealing the complex emotions tied to that period of her life.

She then shared a flashback, a glimpse into that pivotal moment of disagreement:

Flashback

In a room, Tsuneo and Shiho stood facing each other, their voices raised in a heated argument. The topic of their disagreement: the future of their daughters, Maho and Miho.

"You know it's not right!" Tsuneo argued passionately. "You can't make her do it just because it's something your family wants."

"I can and I will," Shiho replied with a cold determination in her tone. "They will be raised as Nishizumis, and that means they will be trained in Sensha-Do."

"But why won't you at least ask them about it?" Tsuneo implored. "They are their own individuals, and they should have the freedom to choose their paths."

"Maho and Miho are Nishizumis," Shiho insisted, her resolve unyielding. "They will have discipline. As soon as Maho turns six, I will begin her training, just as my mother trained me."

Tsuneo's face was filled with concern and desperation as he made a heartfelt plea. "Shiho, please... I can't stand by and watch you do this to our girls. You know that. Please, I beg of you."

Shiho's response was resolute. "If you don't like what I'm doing, then... then you won't have to be here to see it."

End of Flashback

"I see..." Doyal then sipped at his tea after hearing that he looked at Shiho and spoke "Can I give you advice? If that fine to you?" Doyal asked

Shiho met Doyal's gaze, her expression open to the advice he offered. "Of course," she replied, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and receptiveness. "I appreciate your perspective, Mr. Houston."

Doyal nodded, appreciating Shiho's openness to his advice. He spoke with a calm and measured tone, conveying his thoughts with care.

"I understand that family decisions can be incredibly challenging and personal," he began. "In times of disagreement, it's important to remember that the well-being and happiness of our loved ones should always be at the forefront of our choices."

He continued, "Perhaps, in the future, it might be worth considering a more open and empathetic dialogue with your husband about the aspirations and desires of your daughters. Finding common ground, even if it means compromising on certain aspects, can often lead to healthier family dynamics."

Doyal's advice carried the weight of his own experiences with family dynamics, and he offered it with the hope that it might provide some perspective in Shiho's own journey.

"Just don't be like my younger brother, who placed the pursuit of family heritage above the bonds of family love."

Their conversation came to an end as the League meeting concluded. Delia joined them, and Doyal bid his farewell to Shiho. The Houston couple left for their hotel, leaving Shiho deep in thought, pondering the wisdom of Doyal's words and the choices she would make in the future.


A/N So? in the last chapter how many y'all readers saved the last chapter? Because what going to happen to Maho and Houston won't be pretty so y'all better click continue and save

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