It was 5:30 in the morning, and Dunban had just finished getting ready for training. He grabbed his sword and headed for the stairs. Given the occasion, he'd expected to see a few decorations put out on the kitchen table, and maybe a gift or two.

He hadn't expected to find his little sister waiting for him at the bottom of the staircase.

Fiora looked half-asleep, and she almost didn't notice Dunban walking up to her. "What're you doing awake?" he asked.

Fiora was startled, for a moment, but her surprise quickly turned into joy. "Happy birthday, Dunban!" she exclaimed.

Dunban frowned. "Is that all?"

Fiora pouted and crossed her arms. "Not even a thank-you?" she challenged.

"Thanks, but…you didn't need to wake up this early to say it," said Dunban. "You're not the one who has Defense Force drills in half an hour."

"Yes, I did need to wake up early!" Fiora insisted. "You're eighteen years old today – you're all grown up!"

She beamed. "And besides, I have a special present for you today."

Dunban smiled. "A special present, you say? Can you show me where it is?"

Fiora shook her head. "No, it's not ready yet. But I'll tell you what it is when you get home."

"A surprise, then?"

"Of course it is! Surprises are the best kind of presents!"

Dunban nodded in agreement. "Mum and Dad taught you well," he remarked.

Fiora glanced out the window. The sun was beginning to rise, lighting up the room beyond what the single bulb hanging from the ceiling could provide. "You'd better get going," she said. "If you're late, Vangarre will – "

Dunban stopped her. "No need to remind me!" he replied.

He ruffled her hair, and ran out the door as fast as he could.

It was 1:00 in the afternoon when Dunban came home. Today's training had gone longer than usual, since a few idiots had made the mistake of mocking the Colonel's new moustache within earshot. Dunban hadn't been sure if he would ever let them leave, but eventually even his training had to end sometime.

His intention had been to head straight for his room and take a nap. As soon as he entered the house, though, he knew he'd have to wait a little longer. The whole kitchen smelled like chocolate, and Fiora was standing on a wooden crate in front of the stove, stirring something in a pot. "Is this your surprise?" he asked.

Fiora turned around. "There you are!" she exclaimed. "If I wasn't busy, I would've gone over to check on you. What took so long?"

Dunban looked away. "It's not worth talking about," he said.

"Are you sure?" asked Fiora. "Reyn says he heard screaming all the way from the bridges."

"It wasn't anything I did," Dunban assured her.

That seemed to be enough for Fiora. "So, what're you making?" Dunban added.

"I'm making your birthday cake," Fiora announced.

Dunban glanced over at the counters. There was flour spilled all over the place, and he wasn't sure she needed that many squares of chocolate, given all the wrappers next to the stove. Still, if their parents were letting her cook by herself, he assumed she must know what she was doing. "What kind are you making?" he asked, even if the answer was obvious.

Fiora grinned. "Double chocolate!"

"Double chocolate?" repeated Dunban. "Sounds exciting. Do you need me to help you out?"

"No help," said Fiora, firmly. "It's your birthday, after all, and this is my present. If you helped make it, that'd just be weird."

She paused. "Besides, you can't even fry an egg without burning it. I don't think you'd be much help."

Dunban laughed. "Fair enough."

It was 4:00 when Fiora started to decorate the cake. By now, the siblings' mother was home from work, and she was giving Fiora a bit of advice on how to make the frosting look just right.

Dunban came down from his room a few minutes later to check on them. The cake was about halfway frosted, and Fiora was so focused on doing the rest that she didn't even notice that he was there. The frosting wasn't quite as even as it was when their mother did it, or as elaborate as what their father could make, but it was better than he would have expected from a six-year-old. "I thought you didn't want any help?" he pointed out.

Fiora quickly scooted her chair in front of her creation, trying to hide it. "No peeking until it's done!" she cried.

Dunban turned around and faced the wall. "And Mum's just giving me advice, not doing it for me," Fiora explained.

Their mother chuckled. "Your sister insisted on doing this herself," she said. "As soon as she realized your birthday wasn't on a school day, she started thinking about how she could do something special for you."

"It was very sweet of you, Fiora," said Dunban.

Fiora nudged her mother. "Tell Dunban about the recipe," she said.

"Oh, that's right!" their mother exclaimed. "Dunban, this is a very special recipe. It was the first cake your father ever baked for me. We'd been dating for eight months, and he'd just learned how to make it."

She laughed a little, and continued. "I never expected to marry a baker, but I've learned quite a lot from him. I'm glad Fiora loves cooking as much as she does. Someone's got to keep using those recipes, after all."

"Because I don't?" teased Dunban.

"I'm sure you could learn too, if you tried," his mother reminded him. "It's never too late."

"Maybe," replied Dunban.

He walked to the door, careful to avoid looking at the cake.

It was 7:00 in the evening when Dunban heard the commotion coming from downstairs. He left his room and rushed down to investigate, and upon reaching the kitchen, he found both his parents at the table trying to comfort a sobbing Fiora. He walked over to them, half-expecting his sister to shoo him away again, but it seemed she was too distraught to care. "What's the matter?" he asked.

Fiora looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy and her face streaked with tears. "It's all wrong," she whimpered. "It's all my fault. If only I'd followed the recipe properly!"

Her face fell back into her hands, and she continued to cry. Their mother put a hand on her daughter's back, and their father began to explain the situation. "It was the chocolate," he said. "The recipe calls for baker's chocolate, and Fiora didn't know that meant unsweetened. She left out the sugar because she thought it would make it too sweet."

"I'm sorry, Dunban," said Fiora, trying to compose herself. "I didn't mean to ruin your birthday! I just wanted to do something nice for you, but I…"

She stopped, picking up the hint of amusement on her brother's face. "It's not funny!" she exclaimed.

Dunban shook his head. "Ruined my birthday?" he repeated. "It'd take a lot more than a bitter cake to do that."

Fiora's eyes widened. "But…we can't eat it like this," she said.

"So what?" replied Dunban. "There's more to a birthday than just cake. I'm much happier about the little sister who wanted to help make today special."

"You mean you're not angry?" Fiora asked.

"Don't get me wrong – I was looking forward to the cake," Dunban said. "But I'm very happy that you cared enough to try."

Their mother smiled. "He's right, you know," she said. "You could have spent the whole day playing with your friends, but instead you spent all that time making a birthday present for your brother. It was very sweet of you."

Fiora took a moment to think about that. "Maybe I should give the cake to Shulk instead," she said, a mischievous grin on her face. "He doesn't care how anything tastes – he probably wouldn't even know the difference!"

"Fiora, that's not very nice," scolded Dunban.

"It's true!" Fiora protested.

Dunban smirked. "Anyway, everyone has to start somewhere. I bet even Dad's first cake wasn't perfect."

"It was nowhere near perfect," their father confessed. "I spilled the batter all over the floor and had to start over."

"Really?" asked Fiora.

"Absolutely! Cooking takes a lot of practice, and it's especially easy to make mistakes when you're baking," her father assured her.

Fiora was quiet for a while. "Do we have any chocolate left?" she finally asked.

Dunban walked over to the pantry and looked inside. "How much do you need?" he asked.

Their mother went over to see for herself. "There's some left, but it's not enough to make another cake that size," she observed.

Before Fiora could say anything, their father spoke up. "You know, there's another recipe I know that's good for birthdays," he said. "It's not quite your bedtime yet, so if you want me to teach you…"

Fiora jumped up out of her chair. "Tell me!" she exclaimed.

She looked back at Dunban. "Just wait until tomorrow," she told him. "Whatever it is, I promise it'll be even better!"

She paused. "Is it OK if it's late?"

"As long as it's from you, I can wait," said Dunban.

It was just after midnight, and everyone else was already asleep. Before going to bed himself, Dunban made his way down the stairs as quietly as he could. He knew he'd promised to wait until tomorrow, but technically speaking, it was tomorrow. One look wouldn't hurt.

In the middle of the kitchen table, he found a plate of perfect cupcakes.