A small, balled up fist gently impacted against Altair’s chest. He offered no resistance as another jab struck his abdomen, except this jab was neither fast or quick; merely a light, harmless tap. He wasn’t quite sure what the strong emotions welling up in his heart were as he took time to examine the comfortable bedding nestled beneath him, his gaze drifting to the colorful hues the infirmary was painted in as he debated upon how to address the matter at hand.

Feran had left immediately after the healer, one of the teachers, finished with his treatment. A simple healing spell was all it took to repair the damage to the capillaries beneath the bruise that was beginning to form on Feran’s wrist; a sight that Altair doubted he would cease to be amazed by for a while yet.

Vorina had accompanied them to the infirmary, perhaps to prevent Feran from acting out. Though Altair had to admit that the boy had been gracious in defeat, uttering not a word of protest at his loss or offering any excuse for the manner in which their duel had unfolded. It was a little unsettling to see a child display such maturity and composure upon being confronted with such a setback, but at the same time Altair couldn’t help but find himself a little relieved that the situation wouldn’t be escalating any further.

Vorina took her leave not long after Feran, after offering him a collective apology on behalf of their class for the tumultuous welcome they had ended up giving him.

Altair had to admit that the violet-haired girl was growing on him, or atleast would be if her words didn’t seem a little too measured and her interactions a tad too forced. He wasn’t willing to make a judgment call just yet, but there seemed to be an unsettling emptiness behind Vorina’s polite words that reminded him of a few co-workers Kimura had encountered over the years; social butterflies that seemed to have friendly relationships with everyone on the surface while fostering few genuine connections.

Another punch landed upon his abdomen, causing Altair to snap out of his reverie. In truth, he had merely been stalling for time as he searched for the right words, but he found his gaze instinctively tracing the owner of the fist that had just been launched at him, locking eyes with a pair of glistening silver eyes that were on the verge of tears.

Any justifications he might be subconsciously drawing upon melted as he made eye-contact with Nocturne, his heart aching as he saw the expression his sister was making. Unable to take the silence anymore, Altair was about to apologize when Nocturne cut him off with a question.

“Why did you accept?” She asked, trying her best to keep her voice from cracking but failing anyway. There was no recrimination or reproach in her tone, merely a heart-rending concern.

“Because I didn’t know what the consequences of not accepting were,” Altair admitted, his head dropping a little from shame. “I’m sorry, Nocturne.”

The gentle blows that were striking Altair’s abdomen stopped.

“Did you do it because you wanted to protect me?” Nocturne asked as she pulled back the moisture that threatened to spill out of the corners of her eyes.

Altair found himself caught off guard by his sister’s question, his surprise at being seen through quite evident on his visage.

“Perhaps,” Altair reluctantly admitted. “Though don’t worry, I won’t do anything like this again without consulting you first. Never again. ”

“No,” Nocturne’s response was as clear as it was direct, spoken with a firm conviction that her words had lacked before.

“No?” Altair repeated after her, blinking as he tried to understand Nocturne’s sudden change in attitude.

“Teach me,” She explained, her gaze sparkling with a new-found resolve that replaced the teary-eyed expression that had been there before.

“Teach you… swordsmanship? Altair muttered aloud.

Nocturne nodded.

“I….,” Altair trailed off hesitantly. The reason why he wanted to learn swordsmanship, his strong desire to learn healing magic and ultimately, the reason why Altair wanted to thrive in Alecdoria instead of merely surviving was because he wanted to protect Nocturne. Protect his sister.

But now… it was Nocturne that desired to step into the crucible. The bitter irony was not lost on him. Was he… supposed to protect Nocturne from her own desires?

Did he have any right to?

“It’s because…,” Nocturne began, her voice rising by an octave as strong emotions were imbued into her words. “...it’s because I want to become strong enough to protect you, this time. You… you have done so much for me and yet I…, I haven’t been able to do anything at all.”

Altair wanted to protest. He wanted to tell Nocturne that she was wrong, wanted to tell her how much she meant to him. But when he saw the earnestness gleaming in her eyes…. he couldn’t…

“This time, in this life…. Please let me share your burden. For once, let me become your shield instead of your responsibility,” Nocturne implored, her soft voice steady with resolve.

Altair instinctively wanted to refuse. As a brother, a doctor to his patient, he didn’t want the child that had already been made to suffer so much at the whims of the world to come to any more harm. The very thought of the possibility made his stomach churn, sickening him to the core of his being.

He didn’t want Nocturne to wield a sword, for a blade was a weapon of war. To cause pain onto others and to have pain cast on herself, Altair wanted neither for Nocturne. He did not think that his sister would be one to misuse power, no— but it was his responsibility, his duty to wield the blade in her stead if the situation ever came to it.

But…

This was the first request Nocturne had ever asked of him since they had been reborn in the realm of Alecdoria. As his sister. As his former patient. As a child who never got to feel the sun’s warm rays on her skin, confined to four unfeeling walls that caged in her desires and ambitions.

What right did he possibly have to tell Nocturne what she could and couldn’t do? How audacious it was, for him to even entertain such a notion.

“Fine,” Altair relented, “I will teach you.”

Nocturne’s eyes lit up like stars twinkling in the darkest of nights.

“But, I have a condition,” Altair added.

“What?”

“If I teach you, you must become strong. Strong enough to beat me, to beat anyone that challenges you.”

The smile that bloomed on Nocturne’s face as she nodded enthusiastically told Altair that…

He had made the right decision.