Mommy, where are we going? Weiss was being pulled along briskly by the hand down a busy road. She was trying her best to keep up though it was difficult with legs as short as hers. Every once and so often she stumbled and nearly fell, causing her mother to turn around a give her an annoyed glance. She stared wide eyed at the back of her mother's head. She wanted answers. She missed home.

Just walk now, Weiss. You'll find out eventually. Her mother gave that half-hearted reply in attempt to please the white-haired child.

I want to know now. Weiss pouted, the edges of her eyes rounded.

Weiss. We talked about this. Be good.

Weiss wanted to cry. She had been walking for too long in these new uncomfortable shoes. And mommy had also made her wear a new itchy dress instead of the furry jacket she liked. Her hair was pulled in a ponytail so tight that it made the skin on her head ache. Not to mention, she hadn't had breakfast yet. She was hungry.

But she couldn't cry. No. Mommy told her that crying was bad. Only bad girls cried — it meant they were selfish and wanted attention. Good girls dealt with their troubles by themselves without bothering anyone else.

But Weiss really wanted to cry.

Steeling herself, Weiss started humming… quietly. She didn't want to bother mommy.

Weiss, if you have energy to sing, walk faster. Her mother scolded sharply, pulling harshly on Weiss' arm in order to speed up her gait.

Weiss didn't say another word for the rest of the journey.

And she only let herself cry a little.


You're my new sister right?

Weiss sat huddled in the corner of an empty living room, her knees pulled against her chest and her head down. She was singing to herself in her head, rocking back and forth to the melody — she wouldn't bother anyone like that, right?

Why haven't you turned on the lights?

The second time did the charm. Weiss looked up to find herself staring at lilac eyes on a face that was surrounded by seemingly glowing golden hair. Weiss found herself staring. She had always wanted hair like that — in a cool uncontrolled sort of manner. It seemed like it would be comfortable and fun. Not like the stiff and ridged ponytail she had on.

Are we playing hide and seek? The blonde whispered conspiratorially with an amused grin spreading through her face. She quickly ducked down so she was sitting on the floor in front of Weiss. This isn't a very good hiding spot though. You know people can still see you even if you close your eyes right?

Weiss frowned. Of course she knew that. Weiss wasn't stupid. Just because you can't see yourself, doesn't mean other people can't as well. Only dunces wouldn't know that. Weiss opened her mouth to say so. Of course I know that!

Shhhhhh. The blonde hushed her immediately, putting her finger on Weiss' lips, huddling closer to her. We're playing hide and seek remember?

Weiss blinked, pulling back and away from the blonde's finger. Who are we hiding from? She asked in a considerably lower voice.

I don't know! The blonde whispered back, grinning. Choose someone. One of the grownups maybe. They'll make us do work if they find us.

Weiss cringed, shrinking away. I don't like doing work.

The blonde nodded eagerly, in earnest agreement. Me neither. A pause. I'm Yang. The blond informed. What's your name?

Weiss, the smaller girl replied.

When's your birthday? Yang continued, using her feet to pull her butt along the floor, repositioning herself next to Weiss with her back against the wall.

I'm five and three quarters years old. Weiss informed, buffing up proudly. I'll be six soon.

Yang smiled. That makes me the older sister — because I'm already six. Yang casually linked her arm around Weiss'. That means you have to follow me around everywhere and listen to me, okay? And I'll take care of you and protect you and stuff.

You're just a kid. You can't protect me! Weiss huffed, but didn't unless her arm from Yang's. In fact, she snuggled closer — the blonde girl was warm.

Weiss-y, Yang shook her head playfully. My daddy's one of the rule-makers of this place. And he's going to teach me everything he knows so that when he's tired, I can take his place! Yang informed. And when I do, I'll get to make rules and stuff that people will have to listen to. So I can totally protect you. You better stay on my good side.

Really? Weiss stared.

Yeah. You just trust me. Your big sis Yang's got everything covered. Yang patted her chest proudly, smiling happily at Weiss. How about you, what are you going to do when you grow up?

Weiss shrugged. I don't know.

Yeah you do. You can be anything you want! Yang prodded, eyes lighting up in curiosity. You can tell me. I won't make fun of you.

Weiss tapped herself lightly on her arm, thinking. Finally, she took a breath. I think, maybe, I want to sing for people?

Yang's eyes grew two sizes larger. Really? Can you sing for me? Sing something now!

Weiss blushed. I'm not very good. Mommy says I shouldn't bother people with my singing.

Weiss-y, Yang dragged out the name in a singsong tone. Sing for me. Just one song? Please.

Okay, okay. Weiss gave Yang a look. But you can't laugh, okay? If you laugh I'm going to stop.

Promise, Yang held her hand up, solemnly swearing.

Weiss took a breath and started singing.

It was as though the world stilled for the measly yet wondrous thirty seconds Weiss sang for Yang. Her voice seemed to pierce through the very fabric of the air — clear, precise. It was as though the voice came from within, resonating with the natural music of the universe.

Yang was so awed she didn't realize it was over until Weiss squeezed Yang's arm lightly.

So…? Weiss asked, holding her breath.

Yang took Weiss' hand in her own. One day, when I'm the rule maker of this town, I'm going to make you the official song-singer of the city! Okay? You'll be famous Weiss-y! You're so good!

A shy smile graced Weiss' lips. Really?

Yang nodded energetically. Yeah! No matter what, I'm going to make sure you become a singer, okay?

Really? Weiss repeated, the smiled spreading further.

Yang crossed her fingers. Yup! I'm your big sister after all.

Weiss never forgot that conversation.