HSBA Delta Branch: Where Paths Cross Again - CHAPTER 20

[HSBA Delta Training Camp Branch — Administration Building | Conference Room | 9:53 A.M.]

The laughter slowly faded.

Not all at once.

Little by little.

Until only scattered chuckles remained.

Then silence settled comfortably across the room once more.

A different silence.

A warm one.

Instructor Britney eventually wiped the remaining tears from her face before taking a seat.

Naturally—

She sat between Counselor Jeff and Instructor Ravielle.

As though that position had always belonged to her.

Around them—

Instructor Sapphire.

Instructor Skyrish.

Instructor Amethyst.

Instructor Bailey.

Instructor Raphael.

Instructor Nexcialine.

Instructor Sahm.

Instructor Patrick.

Instructor Blade.

Instructor Bryce.

Instructor Louie.

And Trainee Kaycee.

All gradually gathered nearby.

Nobody consciously planned it.

It simply happened.

Like family members gathering around a fire after a long journey.

Even their injuries couldn’t stop it.

Bandages.

Slings.

Bruises.

Medical wraps.

Everywhere.

Yet nobody seemed to care.

For a few moments—

Nobody spoke.

Then—

Instructor Ravielle quietly glanced toward Instructor Britney.

Something thoughtful lingered in her eyes.

Something she had clearly been considering for a while.

Finally—

She asked softly.

“…Britney.”

Instructor Britney looked over.

“Yes, Leader?”

Instructor Ravielle hesitated.

Then spoke.

“Why?”

The room quieted.

“Why did you stay silent?”

A pause.

“When all of that happened.”

Another pause.

“Why you didn’t defend yourself?”

Instructor Britney blinked.

Then lowered her gaze.

Instructor Ravielle continued gently.

“And why did you only ask your seniors for guidance when everything’s too late already?”

Her eyes softened.

“You were already suffering so much.”

“You should’ve asked for help from the very beginning.”

The room became silent again.

Everyone listened.

Waiting.

Instructor Britney smiled.

A small smile.

Almost casual.

Almost carefree.

She didn’t even seem to notice that fresh tears had already begun sliding down her cheeks again.

“…Didn’t all of you teach us that?”

The room stilled.

Instructor Britney’s smile remained.

“Taught us that team interests come before personal interests.”

A tear fell.

“Not to make your family worry.”

Another tear followed.

“Not to burden your leaders.”

Her smile trembled.

Yet she continued.

“And most importantly…”

Her voice softened.

“To keep moving forward.”

“To do your best.”

“No matter what happens.”

Silence.

Absolute silence.

The words echoed through the conference room.

Because every single person sitting there recognized them.

Word for word.

Line for line.

The creed.

Their creed.

The creed of Phantom Crest Squad.

Immediately—

Several eyes turned red.

Instructor Sapphire covered her mouth.

Instructor Skyrish looked away.

Instructor Bailey lowered her head.

Instructor Patrick rubbed his eyes.

Instructor Louie quietly sighed.

Even Trainee Kaycee felt tears threatening to return.

Counselor Jeff froze.

Instructor Ravielle froze.

Both stared at Instructor Britney.

Horror.

Guilt.

Pain.

All mixed together.

Then—

Almost simultaneously—

Both slowly covered their faces.

Counselor Jeff laughed weakly.

A tired laugh.

The kind that carried years of regret.

“…Britney.”

His voice sounded exhausted.

“I didn’t realize you would follow our teachings that literally.”

The room fell silent.

Counselor Jeff shook his head.

Still laughing weakly.

“Especially our creed.”

“That wasn’t supposed to mean suffering alone.”

His voice softened.

“That wasn’t supposed to mean carrying everything by yourself.”

A pause.

“That wasn’t supposed to mean refusing for help.”

Instructor Ravielle immediately nodded.

Her eyes remained wet.

“Counselor Jeff is right.”

She looked directly at Instructor Britney.

“We taught responsibility.”

“Not isolation.”

“We taught perseverance.”

“Not loneliness.”

“We never wanted you to carry everything by yourself.”

Instructor Britney lowered her head.

Unable to answer.

Then—

Suddenly—

Instructor Bryce shivered dramatically.

Everyone blinked.

Instructor Bryce slowly rubbed both arms.

Despite his injuries.

“…You know…”

He shivered again.

A pause.

Then he whispered dramatically.

“I think I know exactly why Instructor Britney followed it literally.”

Every head turned toward him.

Instructor Bryce slowly pointed upward.

Toward the ceiling.

Then lowered his voice.

Dangerously low.

“…Because every time she tried not to…”

The room leaned in.

Instructor Bryce’s expression became grave.

“…she heard Leader Hyacinth.”

The room froze.

Immediately.

Then—

Instructor Bryce suddenly stood.

Placed both hands on his hips.

Straightened his back.

And perfectly transformed.

His voice deepened.

His expression hardened.

His posture became terrifyingly authoritative.

“IS THIS THE RECRUITS THAT I BROUGHT?!”

The room froze harder.

“HOW CAN ALL OF YOU FAIL TO FOLLOW OUR CREED?!”

Several people visibly flinched.

“WHY ARE YOU MAKING YOUR LEADERS WORRY?!”

Instructor Bryce pointed dramatically.

“DO I NEED TO TRAIN ALL OF YOU AGAIN?!”

Silence.

Then—

SMACK.

Instructor Nexcialine slapped his arm.

“STOP IT!”

Yet immediately after—

She began rubbing both her own arms.

Looking uncomfortable.

Very uncomfortable.

Instructor Bryce blinked.

“What?!”

Instructor Nexcialine immediately glanced around nervously.

Very nervously.

“What if Leader Hyacinth suddenly appears?”

The room froze.

Again.

Instructor Bryce froze.

Instructor Patrick froze.

Instructor Louie froze.

Even Trainee Kaycee froze.

Then—

Instructor Sapphire immediately nodded.

“Don’t say her name too much.”

Instructor Skyrish pointed toward the ceiling.

“What if she heard you?”

Instructor Patrick shivered.

“That’s a valid concern.”

Instructor Louie nodded immediately.

“Very valid.”

The room descended into complete chaos.

“Exactly.”

“Stop summoning her.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Have you learned nothing?”

“I was having a peaceful morning.”

Instructor Bryce looked offended.

“I didn’t summon anybody!”

“YOU JUST DID!”

Meanwhile—

Instructor Ravielle had already turned away.

Covering her face.

Because the impression had been painfully accurate.

Counselor Jeff stared.

Then looked at Instructor Ravielle.

Then at Instructor Bryce.

Then back at Instructor Ravielle.

“…Why is that actually accurate?”

Without looking up—

Instructor Ravielle quietly replied.

“The scary part is that Instructor Bryce isn’t exaggerating.”

The room groaned collectively.

Then Instructor Ravielle slowly looked around.

“…Were we really that scary before?”

“YES.”

The answer came instantly.

No hesitation.

No delay.

No discussion.

Everyone answered together.

Including Trainee Kaycee.

Silence.

Instructor Ravielle looked personally offended.

Counselor Jeff sighed.

“…Wonderful.”

A pause.

“Thank you.”

Then—

Trainee Kaycee hesitated.

Everyone turned toward her.

Immediately.

The young trainee visibly regretted speaking.

But continued anyway.

“…Actually…”

The room waited.

“You two aren’t as scary as Leader Hyacinth.”

Silence.

Then—

The entire room exploded.

“Exactly!”

“That’s true!”

“One hundred percent true!”

“Not even close!”

“Leader Hyacinth wins!”

“Absolutely wins!”

“Unanimous decision!”

The agreement became immediate.

Complete.

Undisputed.

Meanwhile—

Counselor Jeff and Instructor Ravielle simply stared.

In disbelief.

Counselor Jeff rubbed his forehead.

“…Alright.”

“Stop talking.”

Instructor Ravielle immediately nodded.

“Seriously.”

Then she pointed around the room.

“What if Senior Hyacinth is sneezing somewhere right now because all of you are badmouthing her behind her back?”

Half the room immediately became nervous.

Instructor Bryce slowly sat down.

“…That’s actually possible.”

Instructor Nexcialine nearly jumped from her seat.

“DON’T SAY THAT!”

The argument immediately restarted.

“No, seriously.”

“She somehow always knows.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Is it though?”

“Don’t test it!”

“Why would you test it?!”

“Remember what happened last time?”

“DON’T REMIND ME!”

The room dissolved into laughter again.

Louder than before.

Instructor Sapphire was nearly choking.

Instructor Skyrish was trying and failing not to laugh.

Instructor Patrick and Instructor Blade both covered their faces.

Instructor Louie shook his head helplessly.

Counselor Jeff laughed.

Instructor Ravielle laughed.

Trainee Kaycee laughed.

And—

For the first time that day—

Instructor Britney laughed too.

Not politely.

Not professionally.

Not reassuringly.

Just—

Genuinely.

Naturally.

Freely.

Across the room—

Instructor Faye noticed immediately.

And the realization struck harder than expected.

For almost an entire year—

She had seen Instructor Britney smile.

Polite smiles.

Professional smiles.

Comforting smiles.

Patient smiles.

But this—

This was different.

This was real.

A genuine smile.

One that reached her eyes.

One that appeared without effort.

One that existed because the people around her made her feel safe.

And then—

Instructor Faye noticed something else.

Something small.

Something she doubted Instructor Britney herself even realized.

While laughing—

Instructor Britney had unconsciously leaned slightly toward Instructor Ravielle.

Not because she was dependent.

Not because she was weak.

Simply because she was comfortable.

Because she trusted the person beside her.

Because she felt safe there.

Instructor Faye stared.

And suddenly—

Another realization struck.

In almost an entire year—

Instructor Britney had never once looked that comfortable around her.

Never once looked that relaxed.

Never once looked that safe.

And somehow—

That realization hurt.

Because it meant that no matter how often they had worked together…

No matter how many days they had spent in the same branch…

No matter how hard she had tried to mend things during the past year…

Instructor Britney had never truly felt at ease beside her.

And somehow—

That realization hurt more than all the speeches that came before it.

Because after an entire year…

Instructor Britney still felt safer beside someone who had only recently returned…

Than beside the senior she had worked under every day.

And for the first time—

Instructor Faye understood what she was really looking at.

This wasn’t loyalty.

This wasn’t dependence.

This wasn’t habit.

This was trust.

The kind of trust that couldn’t be demanded.

Couldn’t be inherited through rank.

Couldn’t be repaired through good intentions alone.

The kind of trust she had failed to earn.

The thought lingered.

Then came the memories.

And suddenly—

Memories resurfaced.

Small memories.

Ones Instructor Faye had never considered important before.

Yet now—

They refused to leave.

A younger Instructor Britney standing outside her office.

Holding paperwork.

Waiting patiently.

“Senior Faye, do you have a moment?”

And every time—

There had always been something else.

A meeting.

A report.

An evaluation.

An inspection.

A deadline.

A reason.

Always a reason.

And eventually—

Those visits became less frequent.

Then rarer.

Then almost nonexistent.

Instructor Faye stared at the laughing woman across the room.

And for the first time—

A painful realization settled inside her chest.

Instructor Britney wasn’t trying to compete with anyone.

She wasn’t trying to challenge anyone.

She was’t trying to replace anyone.

She had simply been looking for guidance.

Looking for a senior.

Looking for someone willing to teach her.

And somehow—

Instructor Faye had mistaken that reaching hand for ambition.

Slowly—

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the table.

Nearby—

Instructor Azhette lowered her gaze.

Another memory surfaced.

A familiar conversation.

Years ago.

Instructor Monique’s voice.

Instructor Jonathan’s voice.

The stories they told.

The warnings they gave.

The resentment they carried.

And she had believed them immediately.

Because Instructor Monique was her younger twin sister.

Because Instructor Jonathan was already part of their family too.

Because trusting them felt natural.

Easy.

Comfortable.

She never questioned it.

Never investigated.

Never asked Instructor Britney what really happened.

Never once wondered if there was another side to the story.

And now—

Watching Instructor Britney laugh freely beside people who clearly loved her—

Instructor Azhette felt something unpleasant twist inside her chest.

Because nothing about this woman resembled the person she had imagined all these years.

Instructor Mark quietly sighed.

Because if he was honest—

He had noticed.

The awkwardness.

The distance.

The subtle exclusions.

Not enough to understand.

But enough to know something wasn’t right.

Yet he had done nothing.

Convinced it wasn’t his place.

Now—

That excuse felt hollow.

Nearby—

Instructor Landrieu remembered thinking the same thing.

Assuming the tension would eventually disappear on its own.

Assuming adults would solve adult problems.

Now—

He wasn’t so certain.

Instructor Syndie lowered her gaze.

Because an uncomfortable question lingered.

If she had possessed the courage she had now—

Would she have spoken up?

Or would she have remained silent too?

The answer troubled her.

And nearby—

Instructor Arch Jude understood exactly why.

Because years ago—

As a trainee—

He had told himself the same thing everyone else had.

Someone else will notice.

Someone else will help.

Someone else will step in.

But nobody ever did.

Instructor Jonathan remained unusually quiet.

Far quieter than normal.

Because every laugh Instructor Britney shared with the people around her felt like another reminder.

She had never exposed him.

Never humiliated him.

Never retaliated.

Never demanded apologies.

Never used the past against him.

Even now—

After everything—

She was simply sitting there.

Laughing.

Trying to be friends.

Trying to belong.

And somehow—

That made him feel worse.

Far worse.

Beside him—

Instructor Monique’s smile had long disappeared.

Because for the first time—

The situation no longer felt distant.

No longer felt buried.

No longer felt safely hidden behind the passage of years.

Instead—

She was being forced to watch the consequences unfold in real time.

One person after another.

Supporting Instructor Britney.

Trusting Instructor Britney.

Protecting Instructor Britney.

Believing Instructor Britney.

Without asking for anything in return.

And the more she watched—

The more uncomfortable she became.

Because the image she had spent years believing no longer matched reality.

Not even slightly.

And worst of all—

Instructor Britney wasn’t angry.

Wasn’t resentful.

Wasn’t trying to make anyone feel guilty.

She wasn’t even defending herself.

She was simply happy.

And somehow—

That was the hardest thing to face.

Because Instructor Britney wasn’t asking for sympathy.

Wasn’t demanding justice.

Wasn’t even defending herself.

She was simply enjoying being surrounded by people who cared about her.

Across the room—

Instructor Britney was still laughing.

Completely unaware of the silence spreading through the other side of the conference room.

Unaware of the guilt.

The regrets.

The questions.

The realizations.

She wasn’t trying to expose anyone.

Wasn’t trying to win.

Wasn’t trying to prove anything.

She had already moved on.

And somehow—

Watching her move forward reminded them that they were the ones still trapped in the past.

BZZZT.

Every main instructor’s wristband activated simultaneously.

The laughter immediately quieted.

Instructor Faye looked down.

A new notification flashed across the screen.

PRIORITY DIRECTIVE

FROM: HEADMASTER GAIUS

All Day Zero Test Graduation Records are to be submitted immediately.

Prepare all documentation for the upcoming graduation ceremony.

Further instructions to follow.

Silence.

Then—

Instructor Landrieu groaned.

“…There it is.”

Several people immediately sighed.

The paperwork had returned.

Across the room—

Instructor Britney laughed.

Counselor Jeff sighed.

Instructor Ravielle covered her face.

And just like that—

Reality returned.

Instructor Faye looked toward the mountains of paperwork waiting for them.

“…Back to work.”

Collective groans echoed throughout the conference room.

And for the first time that morning—

The atmosphere felt almost normal.

Almost.

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