You never really celebrated your birthday after you joined the scouts. Why celebrate when you're surrounded by so much death? It sucked the fun out of it.

So you never celebrated, and that was fine with you. It was the same this year. Just like any other day.

When you made your way back to the barracks and approached your bunk, you saw a little teacup and a note waiting right there on your pillow. That neat handwriting and the teacup made it painfully obvious who it was from.