Author's Note: Hello! It's been YEARS and I rlly wanna work on continuing this fic. I actually revised the first two chapters so PLEASE go back and reread from the beginning! Btw I know Magdalena is like, super mature and surprisingly disciplined for her age, but tbh I kindooof have an idea for explaining that, lol. Future chapter awaits tho!

Recap...

"I... survived," she whispered hoarsely, her voice barely a rasp.

I felt my heart shatter. She had survived, yes, but at what cost? I could see the toll it had taken on her, the exhaustion, the pain.

Before I could say anything, her eyes closed, and she went limp in my arms, unconscious.

I held her tighter, tears falling freely now, unable to stop the sobs wracking my body. I didn't care about the victory. All that mattered was that she was alive, but even that felt like it wasn't enough.

Continued...

As I soared through the air, holding Tanya tightly in my arms, every second felt like an eternity. My heart pounded in my chest, but I pushed aside my panic, focusing on keeping my magic steady as I weaved healing spell after healing spell over her fragile body. The magic radiated around her in glowing streams of energy, the brightness of it masking the terror that gnawed at me inside.

Her limbs were intact, there was no visible blood, but I could feel something was wrong. Her body was too still, too cold, and her energy was faint, just barely clinging to life. The healing spells were efficient, but I knew that I hadn't fully assessed the internal injuries she'd sustained—especially after such a destructive explosion. There was no time to waste; I had to get her to the medic tent, to stable conditions where I could perform a full scan and treatment.

With every second that passed, I could feel her slipping away, and the fear that she might not make it only made me work harder. I pushed the magic harder, trying to keep her alive, but I knew that I needed proper equipment, proper care, a stable environment to truly make a difference.

Finally, I saw the medic tent below, and I descended swiftly, landing as gently as I could. The other medics immediately jumped to action, but I was the first to speak, my voice trembling as I explained the situation.

"Get the equipment ready—she's been caught in an explosion," I said quickly, laying Tanya down on one of the cot tables as the medics rushed to prepare. "She's sustained heavy trauma from the blast. I've healed what I can, but I need to assess her internal injuries immediately. She could have internal bleeding or organ damage. I've already used the most powerful healing spells I have, but I need you to start the scans and stabilize her further."

I could feel my hands shaking as I moved around her, but I couldn't let myself break down. Not yet. Not while Tanya needed me.

One of the senior medic mages, a tall older man, nodded and swiftly activated a medical scan spell. The soft hum of the magic filled the air as we all waited in tense silence.

The man leaned over, his face grim as he read the results.

"Internal injuries," he murmured, his voice steady but serious. "Her shield absorbed most of the blast, but there's severe damage to her internal organs. Broken ribs, possible liver trauma. There's some bleeding in the abdomen, and her energy reserves are dangerously low."

My heart sank as the realization hit. I had suspected it, but hearing it from the senior medic made it all too real. Tanya had pushed herself beyond the limits. She hadn't just fought to win; she had gambled with her life.

"We should begin the stabilizing treatment now," I ordered, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'll keep monitoring her energy and keep applying what healing magic I can."

The senior medic agreed, and the team immediately began to work, administering potions and using other specialized healing tools to support her while I continued to weave spells over her. My mana reserves were nearly depleted from the overuse of speed and high-mana spells, but I refused to stop. Tanya had never shown weakness, never faltered in the face of danger. I couldn't do that now.

The medics worked tirelessly, but it wasn't just their skill that gave me hope. It was the thought of Tanya herself—the unyielding fairy-like girl who would fight until the very last breath. And if she could fight like that, I would fight for her just as hard.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Tanya's breathing began to stabilize, her mana levels rising slowly but steadily. She wasn't out of danger yet, but she wasn't slipping away, either. I felt the weight in my chest ease just a little, but I didn't let myself rest. I couldn't. Not until she opened her eyes and I knew for sure she was okay.

"She's holding," the senior medic said softly, glancing at me with a hint of approval. "We'll need to keep her under close observation, but she's stable for now."

I nodded, but my focus remained on Tanya. I needed to stay close, to keep my watch on her. Every moment that passed was another step forward, another step closer to getting her back to where she belonged—leading, fighting, and winning.

I wasn't about to let anything take her from me.

When the Empire's forces decisively overpowered the enemy and the invasion was brought to a close, Tanya was transferred to the inner Imperial Army Northern Theater at Military Garrison 1 for further treatment. She was in need of a longer recovery, and the medical facilities there would provide her the intensive care she required.

I wanted to go with her, to stay by her side as she recovered. The thought of being separated from her, even for just a while, felt unbearable. But my responsibilities weighed heavily on me. I couldn't just abandon my position, especially after everything that had happened.

The reality of my position weighed heavily on me. I had done what I thought was necessary—requested permission to assist Tanya, even though I had left my post without consulting my senior officer prior to my request. I couldn't help but feel responsible for my recklessness. I knew the rules, knew the importance of coordination. I had broken protocol, and I couldn't deny that it could have put my team in jeopardy. It was hard to accept, but I had to. I couldn't undo it, and my duty now was to prove that I would not let this mistake define me.

In the days following Tanya's transfer, I spent hours poring over reports, coordinating with the senior medic officers, and ensuring my squad was fully prepared for any future deployments. I stayed behind because I had a responsibility—to Tanya, to my squad, and to the Empire. There was no room for hesitation. No room for self-pity.

I stood outside the hospital room, feeling the weight of my decision pressing down on me. The Silver Wings Assault Medal had been awarded to Tanya and me for our bravery, but I felt a strange sense of unease about it. I hadn't earned it the way Tanya had. She had faced the enemy head-on, strategically battling with her usual cold determination. Me? I had acted impulsively, rushing in without fully understanding the consequences.

Still, the medal was a recognition of our efforts, and I couldn't deny that it meant something to me. I had requested—no,begged—that I be awarded the medal alongside Tanya. It wasn't for the glory, not really. It was because I felt I needed to prove something. To myself, and to her. To show that even in my mistakes, I could be worthy of standing beside her.

I had been granted permission, and now the room was being prepared for the officials to arrive. They were coming to present the medal formally, but that didn't stop my anxiety from bubbling up. I couldn't help but think of how awkward the situation might become. There would be other recovering soldiers in the room, patients who had been injured, perhaps not even half as lucky as Tanya. It didn't feel right, not with her still recovering.

I walked into the hospital room, and my breath caught in my throat as I saw Tanya sitting up in bed, looking so much better than the last time I had seen her. The remnants of the explosion still lingered in her features—her left eye still recovering, her body still rather bruised up—but there was a spark in her gaze that told me she was already on her way to recovery. Her shoulders were straighter, and the breath she took was easier, more natural. A far cry from the ragged gasps I had heard when I cradled her in my arms after she'd blown herself up to take down the enemy.

I stepped forward quietly, unsure of what to say. Tanya was staring out the window, her usual stoic expression in place, but there was something softer about her now, something I couldn't quite place. I sat down next to her, still careful of her wounds, my hands shaking slightly as I brushed some loose hair from her face.

"Tanya…" My voice was quieter than usual, almost hesitant. "I'm so thankful you're alive."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, my chest tightening with the weight of it all. I had seen her fall. I had thought… No, I couldn't think about that now. The memory of her body plummeting, the explosion, the panic—it was all too fresh. I had almost lost her.

"I should've been faster," I continued, my voice faltering. "If I had reached you in time… You wouldn't have had to… you wouldn't have had to sacrifice yourself like that. I-I could've helped sooner. I'm sorry."

Her expression was serious, her usual coldness not softened by the upcoming medals or the ceremony. She didn't seem like someone who had just survived an explosion or been through the chaos we'd endured. No, Tanya was still Tanya—practical, composed, and unwavering.

She turned to face me, her eyes sharp but not unkind. "Magdalena," she began, her voice low, but firm as ever. "I commend your commitment to your duties."

I stood a little straighter at the words, my chest swelling slightly with pride, but it wasn't long before the truth of her words settled. It was only then that I realized she wasn't praising me for what I had thought was my bravest moment—what I had considered therightdecision to make.

She continued, her gaze not leaving mine. "You acted on the assumption that I might be taken out of commission. The enemy mages would close in on the medic tent first. You thought, logically, that your priority should be to prevent that from happening."

I swallowed hard, the words hitting me like a cold wave. Tanya had always been so practical, so calculating. She wasn't wrong, of course. That was exactly what I had thought—if she was out of commission, I'd have to make sure the medic tent was protected. But it wasn't just that. I hadn't considered just the logical reasons for my actions. Iwantedto be there for her.

I wanted to be more than just a medic mage on a mission. I wanted to be someone who could help, who could support her, even if it meant putting myself at risk. But here she was, seeing it only through a lens of duty.

My shoulders slumped slightly as I lowered my gaze, unable to hide the disappointment that gnawed at me. Was that all it had been? Just duty? Did Tanya not see that I cared about her more than just my role in this war? My mind raced, but I stayed silent, unsure if I even had the right to voice the thoughts swirling inside me.

I thought back to when I first rushed to her, when I found her in that explosion. How her body was so close to being lost forever, how I had wanted to save her—notjust as a fellow soldier, but as someone who mattered. But now, in the quiet of the hospital room, it seemed like she only saw my actions as the tactical decision I had made.

"Do you… Do you even think I wanted to be there for you?" I finally managed to ask, my voice barely above a whisper. The question hung in the air, the vulnerability in it too raw to ignore.

Tanya was quiet for a long moment. I could see her eyes flicker slightly, like she was considering what to say. She never flinched. Never broke her resolve. But there was something there. Something fleeting that made me wonder if maybe, just maybe, she understood me more than I gave her credit for.

"I know you did," she said, her voice still with that no-nonsense edge. "I also know you're not one to act recklessly without purpose. You did what you thought was best. But I'll have you know…" Her steel gaze sharpened again, her usual seriousness returning. "Your actions saved lives. That much is clear. Butdon'tlet your emotions cloud your judgment next time."

I nodded, though it didn't quite ease the ache in my chest. She didn't have to say it like that. She didn't have to be so practical, so detached from what felt so personal to me. But then again, that was Tanya. I wasn't about to change that.

I stayed quiet after that, letting the conversation drop, even though I wanted to say more, to tell her that I didn't just act out of duty. I had acted because I cared about her, but what good would my words do? Would she even understand?

The silence between us was thick, but there was a part of me that understood now. Maybe Tanya had her own way of showing that she cared. Maybe she didn't need to say it. Maybe, that moment when she didn't break down after everything—that was her way of telling me she needed me. Not as a medic mage, not as a soldier, but as someone who couldstayby her side, even in the most difficult moments.

And though my heart still ached for her recognition, I knew one thing—Tanya would never need words to show me that she cared. I just had to accept it.

So, I sat quietly beside her, my hand resting just an inch away from hers, the room filled with nothing but the soft hum of the hospital machines. There was nothing more I needed to say. Not yet. But one day, maybe Tanya would understand that I wasn't just there because it was my duty.

Little did I know, she knew perfectly well where my loyalties lie.

The low murmur of hospital staff outside our room were abruptly interrupted by the arrival of the officials. Their footsteps echoed down the sterile hall, each step seeming to reverberate against the silence that had settled in the room. I looked up, surprised, but quickly composed myself. I could feel the presence of several high-ranking officers as they entered, all wearing their uniforms with medals gleaming on their chests.

I sat up straighter, glancing over at Tanya, who was still resting in her bed. The ceremony had clearly caught her off guard, and yet, she showed no outward sign of surprise or discomfort. Her face remained calm, impassive, as it always did, even in moments like these.

The officials moved into position around the bed, each one acknowledging Tanya and me with a nod. I stiffened, unsure of how to act, unsure of what to feel. I wasn't expecting this. I never thought I would be part of some official ceremony, especially not in a hospital room, surrounded by patients recovering from the beginning of war. Yet, here I was, sitting beside Tanya as the ceremony began.

The senior officer at the head of the group, his uniform crisp and decorated with various accolades, began the formal proceedings with the traditional words of recognition. His voice was steady, unwavering. "Second Lieutenant Degurechaff and Warrant Officer Magdalena, you are both being recognized for your bravery and outstanding service in the field. Your quick thinking, dedication to your duties, and courageous actions under pressure have not only saved countless lives but also helped secure a critical victory for the Empire."

The officer then turned to Tanya, his expression serious as he continued, "Second Lieutenant Degurechaff, for your confirmed four kills in the battle, and your unyielding leadership, you have proven your mettle in the harshest of conditions."

Tanya barely nodded at this, her eyes cold and focused. She accepted the words with a calmness that most wouldn't be able to muster after everything she'd been through. Four confirmed kills. I couldn't help but admire her, despite the fear I'd felt in the air earlier. The explosion, the self-sacrifice—it all spoke to her strength.

He shifted to me next, and I felt my heart race. "Warrant Officer Magdalena, you, too, have proven your strength. Three confirmed kills and two unconfirmed, all while supporting your comrades and keeping the medic operations intact."

There was a pause in the room as everyone took in the silence. I had done what I could, and yet, it still felt like there was so much more I could have done, so much I had missed. But the recognition, though uncomfortable, was real. I hadn't acted alone, and that was something I would never forget.

Tanya's gaze flickered over to me, and for the briefest of moments, I caught a glimmer of something in her eyes—a flicker of approval, maybe. It was fleeting, gone before I could even fully process it.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. This wasn't just a recognition for Tanya—this was for both of us. For everything we'd been through, everything we'd fought for. My hands tightened at my sides, but I kept my composure. Tanya would expect nothing less.

The officer continued, "Warrant Officer Magdalena, your actions were noted as extraordinary. You showed immense bravery, stepping beyond your assigned duties to protect your comrades and ensuring the safety of the medic station. Your ability to think quickly in the heat of battle, despite the challenges, is a testament to your strength and skill as a soldier. You are hereby promoted to 2nd Lieutenant."

I froze. The words didn't quite register at first.2nd Lieutenant? Me?I glanced at Tanya, her face as stoic as ever, but there was a slight shift in her gaze, almost imperceptible. For the briefest moment, she seemed proud of me—though I wasn't sure if she would admit it aloud.

The officer continued, placing the Silver Wings Assault Medal in front of us, one for Tanya and one for me. The weight of the badge was heavier than I had anticipated, and I couldn't help but feel a rush of emotions surge through me. It was strange. The medal, the promotion—these things should have felt like an accomplishment, but in that moment, all I could think about was the danger we'd been in, the risk we'd taken. The cost of victory.

"May this medal serve as a reminder of your dedication to the Empire," the officer finished, his voice firm but acknowledging as the room erupted in clapping.

The small ceremony ended quickly, though the officials lingered for a moment longer, offering their congratulations. Despite the formalities, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. I had achieved something.Yes, I was proud.

I looked at Tanya again. This time, her gaze met mine. For the first time in a long while, I saw something other than stoic indifference in her eyes. It was brief, but it was there—something like respect. I wasn't sure if it was for the ceremony or for the battle we'd just fought, but it made me feel... seen.

I couldn't help but smile a little. Even if she didn't say anything, I knew that deep down, I was only proving myself worthy of her...friendship? Alliance? Whatever our relationship was, it was something significant tome.

I was still reeling from the weight of the medal now pinned to my chest. The Silver Wings Assault Medal felt impossibly heavy, not just physically but in what it represented. A new chapter had opened in my life, one where I was no longer just a rookie medic mage. I had proven myself in the field, and now I carried the rank of Second Lieutenant.

In the days that followed, things changed quickly. The acknowledgment from my peers was immediate, though mixed with hesitation. Some looked at me with respect, impressed by my new rank and the medal glinting on my uniform. Others, however, found it hard to take orders from someone as young as I was.

"Second Lieutenant Hohenheim, your orders are to lead a medical detachment at the forward camp," Major Adelbrecht announced, handing me a set of papers. He was a tall, burly man with a gruff voice, his hardened features showing years of service. Despite his imposing demeanor, there was a hint of approval in his tone. "You'll oversee a mix of medic mages and regular field medics. Keep them in line, and make sure they're ready for the next push."

I saluted sharply. "Understood, sir."

My new team consisted of six individuals. Among them were two medic mages:Corporal Irene Krauss, a quiet but highly skilled mage in her mid-twenties, andPrivate First Class Oscar Lenz, a cheerful but inexperienced recruit. The other four were regular field medics:Sergeant Wilhelm Eberhardt, a seasoned soldier with a calm disposition;Corporal Lena Müller, a no-nonsense woman who handled logistics with precision; and two privates,Franz BeckerandHugo Schwarz, both in their late teens and eager to prove themselves.

Standing in front of my new team, I took a deep breath. This was it—my first moment as their leader. They stood at attention, their expressions ranging from curiosity to skepticism.

I felt a pang of nerves ripple through my chest, and although this wouldn't be my first time in charge of a group of soldiers much older than me, it was still something that I had yet to be fully comfortable with. But I couldn't show that type of weakness in front of these people, especially not when I appear so small and harmless in their eyes. So I swallowed my worries and steeled my nerves, hoping everything would eventually straighten itself out, as I would with these mages.

My hair was tied in a high ponytail, my previous braids abandoned for today. My uniform was clean, ironed out, and my badge reflected a slight gleam off the metal as it laid on the side of my chest.

"Good morning," I began, my high-pitched voice firm but calm. "I'm Second Lieutenant Magdalena Hohenheim. I know some of you might be questioning my age, but let me make one thing clear: I am here because I've earned this position. I will not tolerate sloppiness or hesitation when it comes to your duties. Lives depend on our work, and we will function as a cohesive team. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am!" they responded in unison, though I caught a faint smirk from Private Lenz and a skeptical glance from Corporal Müller.

I decided to address it directly. "Private Lenz, something amusing?"

He straightened immediately, his cheeks flushing. "No, ma'am! Just… surprised to see someone so young in charge, ma'am."

I stepped forward, my gaze sharp. "Surprised doesn't save lives, Private. Skill does. Do you doubt my ability to lead?"

"N-no, ma'am!" he stammered.

"Good. Then let's focus on what matters." I turned to Corporal Müller, whose arms were crossed. "Corporal, do you have something to add?"

She hesitated for a moment before shaking her head. "No, ma'am."

I curtly nodded, pleased with the minimal disruptions so far. "Excellent. Let's get to work."

It didn't take long for the team to see that I wasn't just a figurehead. During our first field exercise, Private Becker incorrectly applied a tourniquet, nearly cutting off circulation to the simulated patient.

I stepped in immediately, kneeling beside him. "Stop. Look here," I said, tone blunt and guiding but not upset as I adjusted the tourniquet to the proper tension. "Too tight, and you risk permanent damage. Too loose, and it's useless. Do it again."

"Y-yes, ma'am," he stuttered, his hands trembling as he redid the process under my watchful eye.

Later that evening, Corporal Irene Krauss approached me as I reviewed our supply logs. "Permission to speak freely, ma'am?" she asked.

"Granted."

"You're... impressive. I wasn't sure what to expect, but you know your stuff," she admitted, her voice soft but sincere.

I looked up, meeting her gaze and sending her a small smile.Flattery won't do much for her, at least not anymore. But I can appreciate the compliment!"Thank you, Corporal. I learned from one of the best."

She nodded, her respect evident. "It shows."

The chill of the northern wind cut through our encampment, a constant reminder of how far we were from the comforts of home. I adjusted my coat and leaned over the supply manifest spread across my desk, my team bustling around me. Despite my youth, they had grown used to following my orders—though not without the occasional grumble or side-eye.

"Second Lieutenant Hohenheim, we've received a new shipment of medical supplies," Private Fischer reported, standing at attention. He was a tall man, older than my father would've been, with a nervous twitch in his eye.

"Did you check for sterilization kits?" I asked, not looking up from the manifest. "They've been sending us incomplete shipments lately."

"Yes, ma'am. We're short by half again," Fischer admitted, his voice low.

I sighed. "Of course we are. Write a report, and send it to Logistics. In the meantime, ration the supplies we have left and prioritize the forward teams."

"Yes, ma'am." He hesitated. "And, uh, Lieutenant… you should eat something. You've been at this all day."

I glanced up at him, giving a small smile. "I'll eat when I've ensured no one dies because of a missing syringe, Private. Dismissed."

One of the younger medics, Corporal Hildebrandt, was struggling to set a splint on a soldier's fractured arm. The soldier, a burly man with a rough voice, wasn't making it easier.

"For God's sake, you're not building a barn! It's my arm, not a damn log!" he barked.

"Hildebrandt!" I called, walking over. "Focus. You're using too much pressure. Adjust the binding here, like this." I demonstrated, my small hands deftly tightening the splint without causing further pain.

"Thanks, Lieutenant," Hildebrandt said sheepishly.

I nodded. "You'll get it right next time. And you"—I turned to the soldier—"stop squirming. If you wanted better treatment, maybe try not getting injured in the first place."

The soldier blinked, then laughed. "You've got guts for someone half my size."

"And you've got a big mouth for someone relying on me to keep that arm from falling off," I retorted, earning a round of chuckles from the team.

As the camp settled down for the night, I sat by the fire with Fischer, Hildebrandt, and a few others from my unit. The stars above were brilliant, but my thoughts drifted far from the quiet stillness of the northern night.

"I wonder how Tanya's doing," I murmured, poking at the fire with a stick.

The conversation around me paused. Hildebrandt glanced up from his stale bread, a puzzled expression on his face. Fischer furrowed his brow.

"Tanya?" Fischer repeated, looking genuinely confused. "Are you referring to Second Lieutenant Degurechaff? You're on first-name terms with her?"

"Well, yeah," I replied, blinking at their surprise. "We've been friends since the start of military academy."

Hildebrandt almost choked on his bread. "Wait,youand Degurechaff? Friends?"

I nodded earnestly. "Of course! We trained together, studied together… She's been a constant in my life since then. She's not as cold as she seems, you know."

The group exchanged looks. Fischer leaned forward, skeptical. "You're sayingthatDegurechaff—the crazy, violent instructor—has friends? Close ones? I've heard stories about her, and none of them exactly scream 'warm and approachable.'"

"She's notcrazy," I protested, though my cheeks flushed slightly. "She's just… focused. Disciplined. And yes, we're friends. At least, I think we are. She's always looked out for me in her own way."

Hildebrandt smirked. "And how does she look out for you, exactly? Give you pointers on blowing things up?"

I glared at him. "She doesn't have tocoddleme to care, Hildebrandt. Tanya's the kind of person who shows her support by pushing you to be better. She's tough, but she's fair. I've always admired that about her."

Fischer scratched his head, clearly still skeptical. "Well, if you say so, Lieutenant. But it's hard to picture Degurechaff as anything other than a walking storm cloud. You sure she sees you as a friend?"

I hesitated for a moment before responding, my voice quieter. "I know she trusts me, and that's enough."

Hildebrandt chuckled. "Well, if she's as unshakable as you say, she's probably giving someone hell right now."

The image of Tanya standing amidst an explosion, grinning like a demon, flashed in my mind.I shivered, but a small smile crept onto my face. "Yeah… probably."

As the fire crackled and the conversation drifted into lighter topics, I leaned back slightly, my stick idly tracing shapes in the dirt. The warmth of the fire contrasted with the chill of the northern night, but my thoughts were elsewhere.

Was it really okay for me to sit here, laughing along with my subordinates, talking casually as though we were equals? Would Tanya approve of this?

I imagined her sharp eyes narrowing in disapproval, her clipped voice reminding me of the importance of maintaining professional boundaries. "Authority demands respect," she'd probably say, "and respect isn't given to officers who blur the lines between friendship and leadership."

But… was that really true? I glanced at Fischer and Hildebrandt, their faces illuminated by the firelight as they joked about rations and training mishaps. They didn't look at me with disdain or disrespect. If anything, they seemed at ease.

Still, the doubt lingered. Was I being too soft? Too friendly?

I poked at the fire again, trying to silence the questions swirling in my head. But another thought bubbled to the surface, one I couldn't push down:Is this what it's like to be surrounded by friends?

I had never really thought about it before. Back at the academy, Tanya had been the closest thing I had to a friend. Her stern demeanor and sharp wit had been intimidating at first, but over time, I'd grown to appreciate her steadfastness. Tanya wasn't warm or overtly kind, but she had beenthere. I'd always felt safe knowing she was nearby.

But here, with Fischer, Hildebrandt, and the others… it felt different. The laughter, the camaraderie—it wasn't the same as Tanya's tough-love support, but it was something I hadn't realized I'd been missing.

Could I even consider them friends?

The thought made me uncomfortable. They were my unit, my subordinates. I was supposed to lead them, not rely on them for companionship. And yet, sitting here by the fire, I felt an unfamiliar sense of belonging.

I glanced at Hildebrandt as he tossed another log onto the fire, his grin wide as he recounted a particularly ridiculous story about slipping on a patch of ice during training. Fischer groaned and shook his head, muttering something about "rookie mistakes." The others laughed, and I found myself smiling despite the nagging doubt.

Would Tanya disapprove?Maybe. But for now, I decided to let the moment be. Perhaps leadership wasn't just about maintaining distance—it was also about understanding, connection, and trust.

For the first time in a long while, I felt… lighter. And maybe, that was okay.

Dear Tanya,

I hope this letter reaches you safely. Things here have been... interesting. Leading the medics is no easy task, but I think I'm managing. It's strange—sometimes I feel too young to be giving orders to people twice my age, but they're starting to respect me. I think you'd be proud (or maybe just less critical).

I try to stay firm and professional, but sometimes I wonder if I'm being too soft with them. Would you disapprove of how casual I am with my team? I think of you often, wondering how you'd handle things.

How are things on your end? Knowing you, I'm sure you've already scared half your unit into submission and outperformed everyone else. Still, I worry. I know you're strong, but the front lines are dangerous, and I can't help but wonder if you're okay.

Write back when you can, please. It's strange—I never thought I'd miss you as much as I do now.

Stay safe.

Yours,
Magdalena

Second Lieutenant Hohenheim,

Your letter was an unexpected but appreciated surprise. It is refreshing to hear from someone outside the usual chain of command, where correspondence tends to range from misguided orders to unwarranted grievances.

I am pleased to hear that your unit is recognizing your competence. Building trust and authority is a gradual process, especially for those who take a more unconventional approach. While maintaining professionalism is vital, fostering trust among your subordinates is equally important. If they respect your decisions and adhere to your commands, you are on the right path.

As for my current situation, I have been assigned tasks that, as usual, are both unnecessarily hazardous and needlessly tedious. The inefficiencies of those in command continue to astound me. The equipment provided is questionable at best, but I am, as always, adapting and ensuring its functionality to the best of my ability.

Regarding your sentiments of absence, I acknowledge them. It is indeed a notable change to be without your presence, as you were consistently dependable in your duties.

Stay vigilant, Hohenheim. Complacency is a luxury that neither of us can afford, especially given the unpredictable nature of our current circumstances.

Best regards,
Second Lieutenant Tanya Degurechaff
Imperial Army

I couldn't stop the grin that spread across my face as I read Tanya's letter for the third time. Each word was like a breath of fresh air, a connection to someone who, despite everything, had never been anything but straightforward with me. Her professionalism was as sharp as ever, but there was something... comforting about the way she wrote. Even in the stiffest of words, I could feel the trace of her presence.

I squealed softly, pressing the letter to my chest, the paper warm against my fingers as if it held part of her. I wasn't sure why I was reacting this way. After all, I knew Tanya well enough to understand that she'd never be the type to go overboard with sentimentality. But it was the small things, those unspoken sentiments buried under her usual stern tone, that made my heart race.

The mention of my competence made me flush, but there was something deeper there, something that made me want to try even harder—something that drove me to prove myself. Tanya's acknowledgment was all I needed to push past the self-doubt that so often plagued me in the face of my new responsibilities.

Her mention of my absence caught me off guard. A part of me felt a little silly, but I couldn't ignore the warmth that bloomed in my chest when I read it. I had missed her presence too—her steady demeanor, her quiet reliability. Despite her harsh exterior, she was someone I could count on, someone who understood what it meant to be in the trenches.

I sighed, a little giddy, my heart still thudding in my chest. She hadn't let me down, not once. Even though we were far apart now, I could feel that connection still. She hadn't forgotten about me, and that thought alone made me feel like I was floating. I felt so happy hearing from her.So, so happy.

Would she be proud of me, I wondered? I tried to act professional, to follow her example, but sometimes it felt like I was fumbling through things. I just wanted to make her proud, to show that I could handle it all, even without her by my side.

The words she wrote weren't just for anyone. They were forme.

I clutched the letter tighter, feeling that familiar warmth in my chest. Tanya might be far away, but reading her letter... it felt like she was right here beside me, reminding me that I wasn't alone.

I won't let you down, Tanya. I'll keep getting stronger.

For a moment, I forgot about everything else—the noise of camp life, the demands of my duties. I was just a young girl, holding onto the words of someone I admired more than anyone. And in that moment, it was enough.

With a deep sigh, I tucked the letter carefully into my coat pocket, the warmth still radiating from where I held it. Tomorrow, I'd go back to being a responsible officer, to commanding my unit with precision and discipline. But for tonight, I allowed myself this small moment of joy, this brief escape into something that felt just a little bit like home.

The murmurs started at the edge of the mess tent, barely audible over the clatter of trays and the low hum of conversation. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop—not really—but when a familiar name drifted to my ears, my curiosity got the better of me. I glanced over at the group of officers seated a few tables away. They were leaned in close, speaking in tones laced with disbelief and, oddly enough, awe.

"...Second Lieutenant Degurechaff, The Devil of the Rhine," one of them said, shaking his head with an incredulous laugh. "I still can't believe it. A Named mage taking down two entire companies of Republicans on her own?"

"It's not just hearsay, though," another officer chimed in, his voice quieter, almost reverent. "The reports confirm it. Degurechaff's mana output is unprecedented, and the way she operates at that altitude... it's almost supernatural."

"Supernatural? More like unbelievable," scoffed a third officer, a burly man with a thick mustache. "She's what, 9? 11 at best? We're talking about a little girl here. You're telling me she single-handedly routed some of the Republic's finest? Come on."

"Don't underestimate her just because of her size," the second officer countered. "You weren't there, but the survivors from the 205th are saying the same thing. They're calling her the Devil of the Rhine for a reason. You'd be a fool not to take that seriously."

The nickname hung in the air like a tangible thing.The Devil of the Rhine. Tanya Degurechaff.I bit my lip to stifle the smile threatening to break across my face. My Tanya was making a name for herself—literally! I felt my heart thump in my chest and a small wave of heat pass over my cheeks.

While the officers debated the plausibility of her achievements, I felt nothing but pride welling up inside me. Of course,they didn't know her like I did. They saw her as a curiosity, a child soldier who defied logic and reason.But I knew better. I knew the determination in her eyes, the sharpness of her mind, and the unwavering resolve that drove her. Tanya wasn't just a soldier; she was a force of nature.

They didn't see the nights she spent poring over tactical manuals, the meticulous care she took in honing her skills, or the weight she carried on her small shoulders. They only saw the results, the stories that painted her as some kind of mythical figure. And while I could understand their skepticism, I couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction.

Let them doubt her. Let them whisper in awe. Tanya didn't need their approval—she never had. She was earning her place in history, one victory at a time, and nothing could diminish that.

As the officers' conversation shifted to other matters, I leaned back in my chair, a quiet smile playing on my lips.

The Devil of the Rhine. It had a certain ring to it, didn't it?

Dear Second Lieutenant Hohenheim,

I trust this letter finds you in good health and maintaining the admirable professionalism that has undoubtedly earned you a reputation among your peers.

As my deployment to the Rhine Front has concluded, I have found myself in the relative calm of the War College. While the environment here is markedly different from the chaos of the battlefield, I find the mental rigor demanded of us to be equally taxing, albeit in a different manner. However, this shift has afforded me more time to correspond, and I thought it appropriate to reach out.

Your presence in the field, as well as your dedication to your responsibilities, has not gone unnoticed. I have heard mention of your work from various sources, all of which speak highly of your competence and your ability to persevere under trying conditions. These are qualities that will serve you well as the war progresses.

On a more strategic note, the war continues to evolve in ways both expected and unpredictable. If circumstances have brought you into contact with discussions regarding the "Devil of the Rhine," allow me to assure you that much of the hyperbole surrounding that moniker is exactly that—hyperbole. It is, however, a reminder of the importance of operational effectiveness and the impression such results can have on both allies and adversaries.

Do continue to prioritize your safety and the well-being of those under your care. The war is far from over, and the Empire will need officers like yourself to ensure the continued strength of our forces.

Should time permit, I would welcome any updates on your current deployment and observations from the field. Knowledge is, after all, an invaluable resource in times such as these.

Regards,
First Lieutenant Tanya Degurechaff
Imperial Army

Dear First Lieutenant Degurechaff,

Congratulations on your promotion! The new title you signed off with immediately caught my eye and pride caught my heart right after.

I am overjoyed to have received your letter—it brightened my day considerably! The War College sounds like a fascinating and demanding place, though I have no doubt you are more than excelling in such an environment. Your intelligence and determination are truly inspiring, as always.

Things on my end have been as busy as ever, but I'm happy to say that my work has been going well. The troops I tend to are as reckless as ever, yet their spirits remain high. I do my best to keep up with them, though sometimes I feel like a mother chasing after a flock of mischievous children, ironically. Still, it's rewarding to know that I can make a difference, even if it's just by patching them up and sending them back into the fray.

I must admit, hearing about the "Devil of the Rhine" has filled me with nothing but pride. Of course, I recognize the exaggeration in the stories, but it's clear they stem from the profound impact you've had on the battlefield. If the rumors are what it takes to highlight your capabilities, then so be it. You've earned every ounce of respect, even if it comes cloaked in dramatic titles.

Enclosed with this letter, you'll find a small herb I picked up during my last supply run. It's known for its calming scent and mild medicinal properties, though I thought it might also serve as a little reminder of something simple and natural amidst all the complexities we face. I hope it brings you a moment of tranquility, even if it's brief.

Thank you for taking the time to write to me—it truly means so much. Please continue to take care of yourself and keep that sharp mind of yours working to outwit anyone who dares to challenge you. I look forward to hearing about all your accomplishments at the War College and beyond.

With admiration and warm regards,
Second Lieutenant Magdalena Hohenheim
Imperial Medical Corps

...To Be Continued...