March 7th isn’t actually your younger sister, but you’ve taken her in as one. Ever since you’d discovered her in that ice, you’d doted on her like an older sibling. It’s only natural she started telling people you were.

“Get my good angles,” March 7th says, posing as you take pictures of her. Normally she’s the one with the camera, but she’d wanted you to take them. “No, higher. There. Okay.” She smiles, hands on her hips. “Did you get it?”