A Saga of Tanya the Evil/The Irregular at Magic High School crossover.

I do not in any way, shape, or form lay claim to either of these works.

This is just a work of admiration from one fan, to those others that share the same interest.

The only characters or places I lay claim to are those solely of my own creation.

Chapter 2: Nocturne

Once back in the sanctum of her dorm, Tanya loses herself in the ritual of routine for a time, thinking over the events of the day as she does a bit of tidying up, then heats up dinner. As nice as it is to once again have access to the convenience of modern, instant meals, she can't help but think of the home cooking she had eaten over the years, even if field rations kept coming to mind. With a chuckle over her former adjutant's iron stomach, she settles in to finish her homework and continue her practices with the CAD, still getting more familiar with the device.

It was a fairly basic CAD, nothing special or unique about it, to be honest, from what she had seen. A device that looked much like a cellphone from her time, able to store and execute magical formula with the input of her own magical power. In many ways similar to the computation jewel of the Empire, but also different. And those differences were the sticking point. No flying, and that was something to get used to. Hovering, yes. Jumping, yes. But not to fly? It was taking some getting used to.

Afterwards, a hot shower and clean pajamas then, to the next battlefield. Bed. Who would have thought that the Ace of Aces, the Devil of the Rhine herself would find such a warm and comfortable thing so daunting? Sleep was supposed to be a respite, but ever since the war, and the last few months of it in particular, there was little rest to be found in sleep.

Instead, the failings and horrors of the war awaited her almost every night. A flood of memories that only strong medications could stop, and those left her feeling too vulnerable, too exposed, too dependent to make them comfortable. No, it was better to just soldier on through, and use that wonderful black brew to bolster herself.

With a sigh, the Rusted Silver settles into her bed, and slowly, fitfully drifts off to sleep….

December 23rd, 1926. Five miles from the outskirts of Berun, third defensive line, bunker 208.

Two soldiers sit huddled over a fire, warming themselves as best as they can. Their once immaculate uniforms and gear battle-worn and stained with blood, grime, and mud. Their weapons close at hand bear witness to hard-fought battles, the wood damaged even if the mechanical workings look as carefully cared for as one could expect. The older of the two women, her brown hair slightly matted as it spills over her shoulders looks up as a shell explodes not far from them, her pale blonde companion never looking up from the map she is studying intently, hoping to find some way out of this, some last glimmer of hope to cling to.

The brunette smiled softly, clearing her throat. "I know it's not Christmas yet, Lieutenant Colonel, and it's not much, but I got you something, for Christmas." She clears her throat, looking a bit sad for a moment. "I didn't know if I would be able to give it to you when it would be appropriate, with everything that is happening, and I know it's not much… But I was able to, umm, acquire something for you."

The diminutive blonde looked up from her map, blue meeting green for one intense moment before Tanya looked away. "You didn't have to do that, Visha. As much as we all appreciate your talents, I would prefer if you use them for the sake of the unit as a whole, not just me." Perhaps a smile flitted across her worn lips for a moment, but that could have been a trick of the light, surely that is what it was.

Visha smiled softly and stands "I think that this is in the interest of the unit, Lieutenant Colonel. After all, if you're in good spirits we all have a better chance." She said as she pulled a battered tin and small sack from her rucksack. "It's not much, but a tin of your favorite bean, and one of the sweets you liked, from that last visit we had to the Capital before all of...This." Tanya's ever faithful adjutant sets the items gently on the makeshift table. "Merry Christmas, Ma'am."

Whatever Tanya would have said is lost to time and the tides of battle as a siren is heard, whistles blowing to announce another rush by the Rus in their attempts to overwhelm the defensive line. The two veterans share one look, then grab their gear and head out into the chaos of war, the gift left on the table.

Tanya addresses the few of her men that remain here, the rest having been scattered in other small pockets to try to bolster the lines for a few days, a few hours, in the hopes that if the Empire fell, it would not be to the Rus. "The Rus are attacking again, and we must do our duties, no matter how much blood has to be spilled. Get out there, and fight like your life depends on it. Because it does. Know that if you fall, I won't let you be taken captive. I'll kill you myself, if I have to. And I know that any of you would do the same for me. First round is on me, back in Berun." That said, the battered remnants of her once proud battalion speed towards the battle, unable to soar high and free because of the heavy amount of A.A. that the Rus have brought with them, and the weariness of her troops.

The battle is chaotic, every inch being bought with the bodies of scores of Rus troops, and the blood of Germania's heroes. The Devil herself, along with the White Silver's Wing, reap a heavy toll themselves, the two women moving as one, years of combat experience evident in all that they do, until that fateful moment. A moment's distraction, a sniper's shot, and a mage's shield shattering as the bullet that was meant for Tanya instead finds itself a new home. The shot rips through the battered shield that is all that the exhausted Visha can maintain as she pours her full power into speed, into intercepting the shot, protecting her commander with her own body. The heavy round passes clean through her, shattering her jewel as it penetrates her chest. The battered and bleeding form starts to fall, caught almost instantly in the powerful grip of the smaller woman.

"Neuman! Take command! Visha has been hit!" Is all she can spare as she grasps Visha tight to her, leaving the battlefield in a flash, the only thought rolling through her mind being that she needed to save her, needed to stop the bleeding. That maybe it wasn't as bad as it looked. That her ever faithful adjutant would smile and shake it off, scold her for worrying about such a little thing. There was just so much blood. She had to go faster. Think quicker. She had to get to the bunker. She didn't notice how the world itself seemed to slow, how everything hung with a poignant silence for one long moment as she blasted into the bunker, grabbing the medical kit and tearing it open, precious supplies falling into the dirt and grime as she attempted to save a life that might be important to her. One that might even be precious.

Her eyes closed tight as she presses down, trying to ignore how the wound feels, how there is no breath rattling from the chest of the woman she is huddled over. How the world seems to pause. "Please...God, please don't die, Visha. You can't die, who is going to make my coffee? Who is going to make sure I don't fail again? Dammit you, Being X! God, please...Don't die…." She lets out a whimper, willing herself to think faster, to move faster, wishing that time itself would slow, that it would stop.

A chuckle might be heard, a laugh that shivers creation to its roots, a presence satisfied for the moment. A crack in the armor of disbelief and logic. A potential weakness exposed. A wish granted.

Tanya huddled over the dying body of one of the few people that truly matters to her, that might have import for more than just what she can do for her, that extends beyond a good cup of coffee and efficient paperwork. Some might even go as far as to say she could possibly consider her a friend. Green eyes meet troubled blue, a hand slowly raised, touching a cheek softly before falling away.

And then there is light and noise, figures rushing, voices speaking quickly in German as Tanya is gently pulled aside as people in doctors scrubs and masks circle her adjutant, but she has no energy left, not to cast a spell, or even to move. As blackness falls over her, she reflects that at least the last thing she hears isn't soldiers speaking in Russian.

June 7th, 6:00 am, 2094. Present

Tanya wakes the next morning feeling worn, the dream weighing heavily on her, always with that feeling that she missed something, that some detail was left unnoticed. She drags herself out of bed, making her way to the automated coffee machine that was already preparing that black brew that served as her very lifeblood. She takes a deep inhalation of the aroma, feeling nostalgic over the cups that Visha brewed, her mood lifting a bit as she realizes that she will once again be able to partake in her favorite cup of coffee soon, before she looks critically at the other half of the room, squaring her shoulders as she makes both beds to military regulations, nodding once that is done. A quick email is sent to the appropriate departments to make sure that clean clothes and two uniforms are prepared and sent, not trusting the doctor to have made sure the arrangements were carried out properly.

That taken care of, she sets about making final preparations for the day. It was the first day of the weekend, so that meant more of the good doctor's tender mercies, this time with the cursed Type 95, one of the few relics from their previous day and age that had made it's way to this one. One of their rifles, their flight gear, and a certain package, sitting carefully on the counter in the little kitchenette her dorm room sported were all that remained of their past, the uniforms being taken into the good doctor's care for study and analysis.

With one last look around the spartan room, she gathers the last of her supplies, dons her shoes and sets out to face her fate once more.