Noontide

A few days ago.

Samantha breaks the bread in half.

She soaks one into the milk and basks herself with the simple breakfast. This is her usual food in the morning, considering resources can be scarce if money usually goes to maintaining a weapon.

Not new in Fenrir, perhaps.

As her peaceful breakfast goes on, Martin finds Samantha alone in the kitchen. His jaws are newly clean-shaven, looking younger than his actual age. He sits across the table and grabs a piece of bread, doing the same thing as the young sniper a while ago.

With all the silence and meal, Martin realizes that the kid does not care about him.

“Next week, you won’t be able to eat alone anymore, kiddo,” Martin says, trying to start a conversation. But then, Samantha only spares him a glance and just eats like there is no other person with her. Martin smirks and then chuckles. “You’re really amusing me, kiddo. Be thankful you were accepted in the enlistment. Say, you gotta be grateful that man brought you under my wing. That bastard knows how good I am in teaching kids like you,” he adds.

Samantha takes another bread and does the same as earlier.

Indifference, but Martin will try again to draw a reaction from her.

“Say kiddo,” he says—again, “you gotta start working with your voice. They’re gonna haunt you if you don’t speak loud!”

Samantha thinks that Martin is speaking nonsense again. She hardly listens to him unless it is about their work. Martin seems aware of her view of him and merely chuckles at her outright dismissal of his words.

Present.

The sun scorches her skin—and standing near Fort Maraga’s statue is never funny. No shed to hide in, this midday heat is hers to endure as discipline. The drill instructor bears no patience with a weak voice and now, regret is creeping into her spine for not heeding Martin’s warning.

Or rather, why is she in the military in the first place?

Sweat drips down her forehead. Hair is getting fried. Samantha lets out a small sigh and purses her chapped lips. All she can do is wait. Wait for the drill instructor to lift the punishment. She heaves a sigh—then a gulp. Her throat is already dry. Receiving correction is nothing new for her—carrying a bucket over her head within a whole day, digging soil without gloves—but comparing the past does not make the present less uncomfortable.

She wants a cool bath after this.

Major Gaston Ludwig sorts through paperwork again, reports about current and past operations around Faunus Quarter. Hardly any of them are positive, and most of their military equipment either get stolen or damaged. Some soldiers suffer injuries during few skirmishes, with some ending with worse fates. The tribes around the outskirts do not welcome their advance.

While he anticipates this kind of resistance, it brings nothing to their campaign against the Hollows.

Eridu has been one of the bigger city-states that manage to flourish after the Age of Hollows, layered on top of an old civilization that humanity has reclaimed over two hundred years ago. As their city-state’s independence from the bigger union allows them to advance than the others, they still face obstacles like this while they maintain their foothold against the world’s disasters.

This is simply absurd—but the expansion of Eridu must not be stopped. The Dark Wall must be pushed further down the south.

Gaston stands from his chair and leaves the office. There are trees behind the building, his usual spot for smoke break. The wind welcomes him, enough to calm his nerves. The sight of nature provides swift escapism, and the problems of today will be resolved in one way or another. As he is deep in thoughts, the drills catch his attention till his eyes land near the fort’s statue.

He narrows his eyes for a better view—there stands someone with a short stature and bright hair color, unmoving but scaringly firm.

Gaston frowns as he spots a cadet running nearby.

“Halt cadet, I have a question for you,” he asks.

The cadet pays salute. “Good morning, sir! What can this cadet do for you?”

Gaston returns the salute. “Who’s standing near the statue?”

He glances behind. “This cadet believes that is the young soldier from Cat’s Eye Battalion, sir!”

“Why is she there?”

“This cadet heard Senior Drill Instructor Denrich punished her for not speaking loud enough, sir!”

“I see,” Gaston says. “Dismissed.”

The cadet salutes again. “Thank you, sir!”

Gaston watches the cadet leave and looks back again at the reprimanded soldier. He recalls how this child becomes part of this division, probably out of desperation, even though he does not approve of this situation. This is not the place that she must be in, but the people above him have other plans.

Such cruelty, but necessary.

As she expects staying there for the whole day, Samantha is granted freedom.

Going to the mess hall is the first thing she did, as her stomach cannot stop rumbling. However, the dining area is full of people, and the crowd and noise are causing her to freeze in her spot.

“You’re hungry?”

Samantha turns behind, seeing a huge guy with a buzz cut. There are red lines beside his eyes, and she recalls that he is also part of the Red Sparrow Platoon.

Private First Class Ziggs Efflstein, Lupus Squad’s Assault Specialist.

A ‘comrade’.

Samantha nods.

“Well, if you are, don’t just stand there,” Ziggs says. “Come on, let’s get you some food.”

Ziggs beckons her to follow. She walks silently behind, but Ziggs keeps matching up her pace until they reach the service counter. The cook fills her tray with vegetables and fried chicken breast.

Her companion also gets his tray, but they cannot find a vacant table this time.

“For a base so big, their mess hall can be so small,” Ziggs voices out. “Anyways, good thing that your punishment is lifted. I don’t like how Gunny is prickly towards a kid. I don’t think you deserved to be punished for that.”

Kid. Again.

“How are you then?” Ziggs asks again.

“I… I’m fine,” Samantha says.

“Hey kiddo! Finally found ya!”

Myrna approaches them and smiles.

“Private Rhodes,” Ziggs addresses her.

“Oh! PFC Efflstein, hehe.” Myrna straightens her posture. “I see that you have Aran with you.”

“Yeah, I just found her here and just standing at the entrance,” Ziggs says. “I believe then that Staff Sergeant Combs finally freed you.”

Myrna nods. “Yeah… Anyways, you look for a spot to eat?”

“Mhmm,” Ziggs affirms.

“Please follow me.”

Myrna leads the way as the two follow, and there is a table near the window awaits them. It is also isolated from the crowded bunch, much to Samantha’s liking, as Samantha sits beside Myrna, while Ziggs across the table.

“Sorry I wasn’t able to check you out earlier, Aran,” Myrna says. “It’s just, the squad leader of Lupus Squad asked me to oversee their training. Didn’t know Gunny would be hard on you like that.”

“You’re great at silat,” Ziggs compliments.

“Ah, haha… Not much, PFC,” Myrna says then stares again at Samantha. “Oh man, your complexion also changed. More rosy.”

For all its worth, Samantha finds nothing new about this, but she feels strange at the same time. She has been reprimanded before for the same issue in Fenrir, but Katya makes sure that she can have double take with communication in case she is not clear enough.

But now, her voice needs some serious work.

“This spot is good because of the wind,” Ziggs says. “I know that Corax Squad will return tomorrow, and I guess they’ll be surprised with their two new companions.”

“What kind of person they are, PFC?” Myrna asks.

“Hm? Well, it’s just two of them, but they are serving long enough to just retire,” Ziggs recounts. “They are both kind people, though. I’m sure you can get along. Oh, especially Charles.”

“Charles?” Myrna asks.

Ziggs flinches. “I mean, Corporal Tausend. Haha, he’s…a humble guy, and he’s cool to be just addressed with his name, despite we’re lower ranked than him. But of course, we need to maintain house rules. You’ll be sure to be reminded of that, because the other, Sergeant Macandro, is strict in maintaining order. She’s still a reasonable person with a speck of intolerance with certain things.”

“Wow, I can’t wait to meet them,” Myrna says. She looks at Samantha again who has just finished praying for food before digging in. “I never thought you also pray before eating,” she remarks.

Samantha glances at her and goes on with her meal. Myrna watches her for a moment before taking a bite. It seems Samantha is not the talkative type, and Myrna hopes to learn more about this kid one day.

But for now, she will respect the young sniper’s space.

The rest of the day is spent cleaning the barracks. To Myrna’s surprise, Samantha is apparently used in this kind of task. The young blonde proves to be reliable from scrubbing the floor to clearing spider webs with shiny clean results.

With everything finished, the girls retire to their dorms. Samantha rests at the top of the bunk bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Myrna steps out of the bathroom and heads to the lower bunk, then dries her hair with the towel.

Her eyes look at the wall clock. It is already eight and a half.

“I didn’t find Sergeant Dane today. I heard he was being prep to become a warrant officer, so he won’t stay with us that long,” Myrna says. “I guess indeed we’ll meet our acting squad leader then tomorrow, if PFC’s intel checks out.”

Samantha remains with a blank stare.

“There’s a large Hollow in Plutarch District in Faunus Quarter,” Samantha says. “I saw it in the newspaper shrank a few months ago. It could be…their efforts of doing so.”

Myrna wags her towel.

“You know your assignment,” Myrna remarks.

“I think it’s that campaign our squad is part for…”

Myrna chuckles. “I’m just trying to lighten up the mood, but you’re right.”

“How…is that lightening up the mood?”

“I think you’re too serious in your age. You’re beginning to remind me of my younger brother,” Myrna remarks, then hangs her towel at the bunk’s railing. “Anyways, there’s something I’m curious about, I hope you won’t dodge me like last time.”

Myrna stands and climbs two steps up the ladder, then stares at the kid lost in the ceiling.

“Why can’t…you ask about it… You don’t need…to climb here,” Samantha says.

Myrna pokes her cheek which Samantha shoves away. “Why not? But hey, I was just curious. How did you join the force? You didn’t join bootcamp, then it must be the special test? What did you do?”

Samantha, getting barraged by questions, faces away.

“I… I was just told to,” Samantha says, “they say I can have better future if I join…military.”

Myrna rests her arms. She stares fondly at the kid’s back before retreating down to her own bed.

“Do you have any image of future you’re talking about?” Myrna asks as she pats her pillow. She lies down, placing both her hands on her tummy. Hearing no response, Myrna sighs in silence, knowing that question sounds heavy-handed.

The air remains still. Samantha catches on that Myrna has dropped the topic. She is not obligated to answer her questions, but it sure…trinkles something inside of her. Myrna is like Lugh, at least, Lugh has a habit of asking questions she never answers. Nevertheless, military is merely another place for her to prove her skills.

Just like what her teacher wants.

That must be the reason why she is sent here in the first place.

“This is how you hold a knife.”

Samantha trembles while a big pair of hands correct her handling of the knife. Heart beats fast, as she longs to escape, but the only window in this small room is half-opened. Her eyes plead for help, however, the other two kids in this room bear no power either against the owner of these big hands. One is a girl with long hair, color resembling red wine, and looks adept already in playing with a knife than her. The other is a young boy who seems unbothered by the scene, as his ashen hair matches his emotionless red eyes. Samantha reluctantly moves her sight to the side, as she is met with piercing infuriated blue eyes. Only his blonde hair shines while his face is darkened with disappointment.

Hot. Suffocating. Tears well under her eyes. As she cannot remove her sight from this man, she forces herself to mutter a word.

“I-I apo—”

“Dare not to say sorry,” he cuts in quick, “do it right!”

Samantha grips the handle tighter as the man watches her with great expectation. Knuckles turn white, when the man issues another instruction.

“Now, stab the rabbit.”

Her breath hitches, slowly moving her sight towards a small cage. Stab. Her jaws tremble once more, and she tries to mitigate it by biting her lower lip—so hard that it bleeds. She does not want to hurt the innocent animal, however…

Silence.

Samantha raises her hand and—

Samantha wakes up.

She raises her left hand and somehow able to see its silhouette from the darkness. It is shaking uncontrollably as she tries to steady it by repeatedly closing her hand. Every scene seems so clear, and the sensation feels so real like it merely happened yesterday.

That dream.

Her heart beats in an uneven rhythm and it is hard to go back to sleeping with this condition. She descends from the upper bunk and heads to bathroom first to wash her face. Cold water helps her calm a bit, but it is not enough to remove the trembling. Samantha leaves the dorm next, and the barracks is empty as she hopes for. She climbs on a nearby guardrail for contemplation. The early morning air feels serene as she closes her eyes to discern the soft breeze.

Quiet. Tranquility.

“Been a while I saw someone so early at this hour ‘round here.”

Samantha tenses up and turns around, identifying a silhouette of a woman in the dark. A flashlight clicks on, and the sudden brightness blinds her for a moment before recognizing a short-haired lady, who is dressed up with full military gear.

“What’s a kid doing here in the barracks?” She moves closer. “Whose child are you?”

Samantha squints and hesitates to look at the lady, except she has to.

“I-I’m no one’s kid. I…am a soldier here,” Samantha answers.

“What?” Her voice in utter disbelief. “I don’t tolerate jokes like this, but since you’re just a kid, I’ll let you slide. Just tell me the truth about who brought you here, we’ll get this over—”

The soldier lady stops—upon noticing the young girl wears camo pants.

“Since when did the regulation change?” She mumbles. “If you’re telling the truth, then you can’t just wander here alone. I’ll take you back to the dorms. State your battalion—gosh, when did you even get enlisted?”

Frantic. Samantha can sense uneasiness with this soldier lady. As much as she wants to avert her gaze away, Samantha refuses to get into a senior officer’s nerve once again.

“Uhm… Cat’s Eye Battalion, Oxbow Company… Yesterday’s…my first day here.”

The lady grows more puzzled. “What branch allowed this? I was just here two months ago. Did it really happen so fast? What squad you belong to?”

“Corax Squad…”

“What?”

This is it. Samantha jumps off the guardrail, only for the lady to grab her arm faster.

“You can’t go,” she says with a firm tone, “I need to ask Sergeant Dane about this. You’re going with me.”

Samantha finally realizes—she no longer has a choice.

Samantha sits in silence in the office. Her eyes are focused on her superiors. Staff Sergeant Dane has been scratching his chin since earlier, contemplating for an answer. The other is the soldier lady, whose golden eyes are flaming towards the squad leader.

And apparently, she is Sergeant Sheena Macandro, the Corax Squad’s deputy officer.

In other words, her actual teammate.

“It’s an order from the top brass of Eridu Defense Force that’s just passed down here. We know for the fact Chrysoberyl maintained its reputation of no child soldier policy for decades, but we can’t also deny that times are changing. Nevertheless, Major Ludwig’s best judgment assigned her here, considering her skill set.”

Sheena’s face remains stoned, but the glare intensifies.

“It’s the higher-ups again and not naming who specifically it is. Are they serious about this now after cutting down the division’s budget?”

“We all have our concerns, but we’re all just soldiers in the end of the day. It doesn’t mean we will just abandon our creed, even though we’re in this kind of situation. In fact, the current state of the division is probably the reason why she’s here with us in the first place.” Dane puts his hands behind. “The best thing we can do now is to shield young Aran from vulnerabilities. The Major thought to fill our missing gaps while they are still sorting out the transitions and promotions.”

Sheena places her hand on her forehead as her expression grows even more displeased with the situation.

“At this point, I see no reason to climb in the ranks if they will just pull this atrocity towards us,” Sheena says, her voice going husky, while massaging her forehead. “I will always refuse to understand, even I can, that they want change but still doing the same old thing over and over again. It’s making me sick.”

“A change cannot happen overnight, Sergeant Macandro, let alone avoiding your own progression.”

Sheena looks defeated. “Isn’t because of that why we’re stuck?”

“I’ll do my best not to become a hindrance.”

Sheena raises a brow as the two senior officers look where the voice is. It is the young blonde, Samantha, firm on her stance.

Samantha goes on. “I was told that my skills are best fit in Defense Force, and…that’s all I can do. I’ll show that my age…won’t be a problem.”

Sheena’s frown deepens as she turns away.

“Sheena,” Dane says, “I won’t say to be alright with it, but just look after her.”

Samantha can only see Sheena’s resistance, as a nagging feeling tugs in her heart. Being called a ‘child with devil’s finger’ several times in the past, she only passes it on as an off-handed comment. People only like to make names, but they will preach once they prove to be useful. Samantha lives for being efficient—as how she is taught to be—and she only needs to do this here again.

However, this time feels different. Her being a ‘kid’ is the issue here.

Samantha notices Sheena tenses up and relaxes down.

“Private Aran, is it? No, Samantha,” Sheena says, correcting herself.

Samantha fixates her sight on her. “Yes, ma’am.”

Sheena turns to her with an unyielding, resolute expression.

“Ma’am doesn’t suit to someone like me, so refrain addressing me that way. Sergeant or sarge will be a better fit,” Sheena corrects her, but with a gentle tone. “Don’t dare to die on me, understand? If you need to run, then run.”

Sheena’s golden eyes lock onto Samantha’s orange ones, and the latter shows uncertainty of the order.

“Answer me,” Sheena repeats.

Samantha’s eyes widen.

And slowly nods.

“Understood…”

Roaring sounds of engine arrive at the Fort Maraga as the guard stations guide the trucks on their way in the headquarters. Dawn has yet to break but the day for these soldiers already begins.

From one of the fort’s buildings, a soldier in his mid-20s steps outside as the nametag over his right breast pocket reads Tausend. He removes his visor, revealing a distinct mole beneath his left eye, then shrugs off his jacket and shakes his growing bowl cut hair—only for his peaceful stride be disrupted with a punch to his back.

“Charles!” Someone calls him, as arms wraps around his shoulders. “I told you to buy me hotdog!”

Charles looks to his side and sees a towering soldier against him. He is met with a grin, as this carrot-top intruder appears overjoyed.

“Man, let me return to the dorms first. Aren’t you tired, too?” Charles says.

“We’re all tired, but I had a feeling you just wanna see your sergeant already!”

“Says the one who likes a girl from another platoon. Let’s see, I know her name is Trisha—”

“Dude that’s not cool!”

“Ah, there you are. Corporal Tausend and Private First Class Hestrich.”

The young men halt their bickering at the sight of a familiar officer, Sergeant Sheena Macandro. Charles salutes and Hestrich is noticeably embarrassed.

“Sergeant Macandro,” Charles addresses, “I just took my medical clearance. Thought you were already resting.”

Sheena returns the salute. “I supposed I am, but I think you’re taking your sweet time again. Good thing I found you with Ivan here, which I recall, Sergeant Charow is also looking for you, Hestrich.”

Private First Class Ivan Hestrich suddenly stiffens.

“Oh crap, already? She’s gonna beat my ass again…” Ivan mumbles.

“On the other hand, I think you can stay here for a bit, Hestrich,” Sheena says.

“Eh? Why is that sarge?”

“I have someone to introduce to both of you. We’re part of the same platoon anyway and we always work together as a team.” Sheena looks behind. “Samantha, you can step out.”

Ivan and Charles raise their brows as they notice someone standing behind the sergeant—who soon steps forward—a young girl with long blond hair.

“Your kid, sarge?” Ivan asks.

“I am not romantically linked to anyone, let alone having a kid,” Sheena says, sighing. “She’s our new sniper, Private Samantha Aran, and Private Aran, this is your corporal, Corporal Charles Tausend, and here’s a Lyre Squad member in our same platoon, Private First Class Ivan Hestrich, a combat medic.”

Charles widens his eyes.

Samantha bows a bit. “I’m Private Aran…”

“How…old is she, sarge?” Ivan asks.

“Fourteen.”

Charles looks back at Sheena.

“You’re not kidding, aren’t you sergeant?”

At first, it is just a nagging feeling. Now, Samantha can tell something is wrong.

Definitely wrong.