It had been years since Light had set foot in that school, or so she wished. In fact, she had never been able to forget those dull, gray, narrow corridors. As if whoever had built the place wanted to remind the children that the world was on their shoulders and there was no time to admire a glow of light.

The opaque windows barely let in enough sunlight to see. Despite the fact that it was broad daylight, the environment stagnated in a grim and gloomy atmosphere.

Eira did not help. Sitting in one of the chairs in front of the principal's office, her elbows on her knees and a sullen expression on her face, she seemed to be haunted by a gray cloud. Her hair, a light brown, hid her eyes like closed curtains. She had not moved or spoken since Light's arrival.

Light still wore her uniform, the red half-cloak folded between her and the chair. She almost wished she had changed. She would have, if she had had the time. Flaunting her position as Sergeant when she could not even train her sister made her nervous.

The floor tiles had lost their original color. Light remembered them brighter. The apathetic brown tint they now showed must have come from all the students' shoes stepping on them every day.

"Can I know what you've been up to, or do I have to find out from the principal?" she asked her little sister. Her tone was more venomous than she would have liked. She curled her tongue and cursed herself for her lack of tact.

Eira gave her a wicked look. The blue of her eyes was icy. She made only a dismissive, half-hearted "tsk" and turned away.

Light clenched her fists, barely resisting the urge to scold her. But what use would that be? Little sister wouldn't listen to her anyway. She never did. She rested her head against the wall when she felt a slight vibration in her wrist. The bracelet gave off a brief glow, then Ember's voice boomed in her head.

"Sarge, I need to talk to you." She sounded shaken, as if trying to hide a tremor in her voice but failing.

Light took a moment to breathe deeply. Another problem she did not know how to solve was about to land on her shoulders. "What happened?"

"Well, I was on my way back to my dorm and I found Jason rummaging through my room."

Jason. Jason Oers. A promising cadet, but one who often lacked initiative. He was glued to Mark's ass the whole time, following him around like a faithful lapdog.

"Was he alone?"

"Yes. But that's not the only problem. It's that he said a strange phrase to me..." Ember hesitated. Light imagined her clutching the pendant between her fingers or biting her lip, tormented by who knew what thoughts.

"Weird in what way?"

"’Stop playing hero.’"

Light sighed again. It could have meant anything. It could have been an attempt to dissuade her from seeking evidence against a possible traitor from the statement of a bully who just wanted to see Ember crumble under the weight of expectations. The combination of events, however, made her think. What if it had really been Jason in Oblam's office that day?

Either way, Ember was in potential danger.

"Lock yourself in. I'll be there as soon as I'm done here," Light said with a growing weight in her chest.

Eira stared at her, her gaze a fierce judgement. Although she didn't say anything, Light heard her question loud and clear: 'You can't wait to drop me off at home and leave again.'

Light gritted her teeth and averted her eyes. She was a bad sister.

"Okay. Thanks, Sarge." Ember broke off the communication, leaving them alone again in the narrow, gray hallway.

The door opened, and the principal stuck her head out. Her hair was short and neat, a pair of sparkling earrings dangling from her ears. "Lightara Ferun. Please take a seat."

Light gathered what little energy she had left to maintain her facade of strength. Sometimes it took more effort than usual to maintain that wall. It was as if she had to use her whole body to keep it up, and eventually every part of her began to creak under the weight of every responsibility. But she could not afford to give in.

For once, Eira followed her quietly. They entered the Director's tidy study, where the austerity of the gray on the walls was accentuated by the lack of personal effects. Light sat in front of the desk, Eira beside her.

The principal sat in front of them, her fingers crossed and her chin resting on them. "Ms. Ferun, this is not the first time I've been forced to call you during working hours." Her gaze stayed on the officer's pin glinting on Light's shoulder.

"No," she admitted.

The principal let out a long sigh. "You see, Eira thoughtfully snuck out of school today without permission. When the gardener caught her, she tried to bite him."

The red mark on Light's shoulder pulsed.

"Now, I understand that your family situation is difficult, but you are her older sister. It is your job to remind her that she is a little girl and not an animal."

Light clicked her tongue. "My sister is not an animal," she hissed.

Eira turned in her direction, her mask of rebellious rage cracking, her lips parted in surprise.

The principal ran her tongue between her lips. She held back her irritation. As if she had the right to be irritated. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. Eira is a very intelligent little girl, but very troubled. If you don't do something to teach her how to behave, we will have to take measures."

Her blood froze. "Measures?"

"I've already given her many chances. If her behavior has not improved within a month, I will have to expel her."

Expel her.

Light could not afford to pay for a private tutor; most of her funds were spent on her mother's medicine. She would have to take care of Eira's education personally, but how? She could not handle all her duties as it was. It would have been impossible.

"You cannot expel her," she said in the icy tone she addressed to her cadets.

But the principal was not her subordinate. She cared nothing for military hierarchy. Nor, in all likelihood, did she consider her a competent officer. She shook her head with a mock patience that hid a hint of disapproval. "She leaves me no choice. I hope I don't have to go that far, but it's up to you, Ferun."

Light swallowed the next curt reply and just stood up. "Thanks for the warning," she hissed. With a nod, she motioned for Eira to follow her outside.

They walked side by side towards home. But Eira had never seemed so far away.

The smell of the beach wafted along the road, along with the stench of freshly caught fish. The town was buzzing with life, with fishermen slapping each other on the back to celebrate their new catch, and people milling about. The breeze made Light's cloak flutter. Her shadow on the stone path was tall and proud, a heroine ready to take on the enemy.

Ember's drawing came back to her. If only she could have been that person. The person everyone needed.

Eira walked with her hands in her pockets, her backpack bouncing on her back with every step. From time to time she absentmindedly kicked a pebble. The gray cloud surrounded her like a shield. Light could not find the right words to scratch it, to break through it.

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Light sighed. Weariness began to sap her strength. She wished she could lie down and sleep for three days. But she couldn't. Eira needed her, and Ember was waiting for her, locked in her own room. She reached for her sister's backpack to take the weight off her shoulders.

Eira wriggled out of the way and took a few steps away. "I don't need it. I can manage."

Light did not dare to try again. She recognized her sister's stubbornness; it was something they shared. "Don't you think you've gone too far?" she finally asked her.

Eira lifted her eyes for a moment and frowned. "What do you care?"

Why did it have to be so hard?

"If you won't do it for me, can you at least behave better for mom?"

"Don't try." Eira kicked harder at a pebble, sending it crashing into the wall of a house. "You're not going to make me feel guilty for Mother."

"I'm not trying to make you feel guilty."

"You are. But I'm the only one who really cares about Mom."

Light came to a sudden halt. Her sister's words twisted in her chest until they formed a spiraling blade that sank straight into her heart. She wanted to scream at her that it was not true, that she was trying her best to take care of everyone. If she had really believed that, maybe she would have.

Eira continued on, and Light followed in silence. The weight of the charges crushed her back. How much longer could she hold up the wall that protected her?

As soon as they entered the house, Eira locked herself in her room and slammed the door. Light sighed and went to check on her mother; she found her asleep. She tucked her in before going out again.

Maybe she should have stayed, but there was another person who needed her.

She reached Ember's dormitory with a head full of questions. The Academy seemed as usual, alive and full of activity, but the dorms were silent at this hour. Light knocked on the door, trying to concentrate on the present, the traitor problem, the war with the Ysnians. All issues that had suddenly lost importance in her eyes.

Ember barely opened the door. As soon as she recognized Light, however, she beamed with relief and motioned for her to enter. Ember, the only person who smiled at seeing her now. She closed the door and turned towards her, palms rubbing against her pants. "Sorry to bother you, I know you have a lot to take care of."

Light watched her for a long time. No matter how hard she tried to hide her emotions, Ember could not stop trembling. She seemed small and fragile at that moment. A little girl who needed reassurance more than a soldier. A little girl trying to carry the weight of all her problems alone and in danger of giving up day after day.

Light wondered... Would the other girl stop shaking if she held her in her arms? The thought was fleeting and she dismissed it immediately. Where did it come from?

She grabbed her shoulders; Ember lifted her eyes and met her gaze. "Are you okay?"

Ember blinked, confused by the question. "Um, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

Light let her hands slide down Ember's arms until they fell back at her sides. She took a quick look around the room: one side was tidy, but the closet was still open, clothes strewn haphazardly across the bed and floor; a myriad of papers inked with suggestive designs had been tucked away on the desk, but the drawers remained wide open, their contents exposed to the world.

It seemed to her more like the actions of a person trying to frighten her than someone looking for something.

"Do you think there's a connection to the traitor?" Light asked. Maybe Jason had only acted on Mark's orders to annoy Ember. She would not have been surprised.

Ember shrugged and ran her hand down the back of her arm. "I don't know. Jason, though... he had seemed strange to me. Different."

"Different?"

"Like he was a different person. He was... more confident. Like..." Ember grabbed her own arm. "Like he wasn't Mark's puppet."

That Jason had acted of his own free will? But why, what purpose had he served in creating all that chaos in Ember's room?

Maybe he knew about Ember's attempt to investigate the traitor and wanted to convince her to step aside. It was a possibility, but it seemed far-fetched.

"Whatever the reason, breaking into someone else's dormitory is an action that violates Academy rules," Light said. "I will personally see to it that Oers is punished."

Ember lowered her head. "Thank you," she murmured.

Light reached for the hilt of a knife that hung from her belt. She pulled it out. It was a modestly sized switchblade. She handed it to the girl. "Just in case, never walk around unarmed."

The other took the knife. Their fingers brushed together for a moment. Ember's skin was soft, her hand delicate. It sent a strange electric shock down her back. Light found herself staring at her own hand as if it belonged to someone else, amazed at the power of that little flash.

"You should be careful too," Ember said, clutching the knife in both hands as if it were a sacred heirloom. "If he really were the traitor, and he knew I was helping you," she bit her lip, one hand caught in the hair at the back of her neck, "he'd know you were on to him, too. And, I mean..."

"I'll be fine," Light cut her off. She felt the corners of her lips curl slightly. She was not used to people worrying about her, but for some reason she found this attention from Ember endearing.

Seeing her blush, Light noticed every tiny detail of her face. Her eyelashes, long and thin, fluttered with each blink. Pupils moved slowly, tracing every line of Light's face as if trying to memorize every curve, only to drop in embarrassment. The way Ember could barely breathe. The sweet scent of her, of flowers with caramelized edges.

They were too close. Light took a step back to create space between them. In her chest, instead of her heart, she felt like a fluttering butterfly, flapping its wings in search of freedom.

She must be too tired, she thought. Her body began to react strangely.

She wanted to leave, but she did not move. She felt lighter in the room. She did not understand why. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe Ember's concern had caused another crack in the wall, and now she could no longer hold it up as she would have liked.

"Ember?"

Strands of golden hair fell disheveled on Ember's forehead. "Yes, Sarge?"

She couldn't ask her for help. It was stupid. She was the Sergeant, she was the one who had to show strength for her cadets, it was certainly not Ember's place to comfort her. Still, the girl's gentle gaze eased her guilt. "How do you communicate with someone who won't listen to you?"

Why did she ask her that? Light had no idea what had gotten into her.

Ember brought her index finger to her lips, nagging at it as she thought. "It depends. It's not easy. Most of the time, if the other person won't listen, there's little you can do." Silence engulfed them both for a few seconds. "Are you talking about Mark and Jason? Because in their case, I think a slap or two might help." A slight, hesitant smile appeared on Ember's face.

Light greeted it with an amused half-snort. "Two slaps? Mark would need an instruction manual to understand why I slapped him in the first place," she said, and the other chuckled. It was a graceful, lighthearted sound, so out of place under the circumstances. "But no, I wasn't talking about them."

Ember rubbed her palms against her pants again. "It depends on why this person won't listen to you."

Telling her the truth was out of the question. Light had to maintain a professional relationship. Ember was her cadet, not a friend, damn it. So she opted for a middle ground, a half-truth without context. "She's mad because I can't do enough."

Ember sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress giving way under her weight. "Are you sure it's not the other way around?"

"Huh?"

"Maybe she's mad because you never take a break."

It was ridiculous. So she thought at first, but then the possibility made sense. Eira was furious because Light had no time to be with them, no freedom to dedicate herself to her family.

"I can't do anything about it. There's too much going on."

Ember leaned her hands against the mattress for support. She dared not hold the other's gaze. "We'll find the traitor. Then maybe you can at least get some rest."

Light softened her expression. She should not have leaned on Ember so much; she was only a cadet, she had enough problems of her own. The butterfly stirred again, giving off a warmth that expanded in her chest. She tilted her head, a barely perceptible smile on her lips. "Rest? I don't even know what that means anymore."

"Oh, right." Ember laughed softly, shyly. "I forgot that part of being an officer is learning to live without sleep."

Light put her hand on her hip. "Did you just realize that? What did you think training was for?"

Ember shrugged. "Um, to teach us how to fight?"

"Tsk. Your first enemy to fight will be lack of sleep."

Ember twisted the knife before her eyes. The fear that had gripped her just a few minutes before seemed to have vanished. "And the first step in training is learning to sleep with a knife under your pillow?"

Light stared at her and for a moment she felt a sense of ease. "Now you begin to understand." Then she lowered her voice, her tone serious again. "But really, Ember, try to be careful."

"Don't worry." Ember lifted the knife like a trophy to show her. "My friend Knifey and I will be fine."

Light arched an eyebrow. "Knifey?"

A new splash of red impregnated Ember's cheeks. "I was thinking Assassin too, but Knifey's cuter."

"You know what? I'd better go before I lose the last brain cell I have left." And so Light indulged, accompanied by the crystal clear sound of Ember's giggles and the beating of the butterfly's wings that continued to flutter in her chest.