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Chapter Text

    It was cold. It sunk into her burning skin, stabbing at her spasming—it hurts. It hurts so much. Stop it! Just stop—and aching limbs. The weird plastic ropes—not chains. They aren't chains—digs into her wrists and makes her spasming fingers go numb and tingly.

Her eyes were covered. She couldn't see—the blood on the floor and the body—what's in front of her. They felt dry and heavy. She hasn't slept in days.

She can hear—her own screams. It hurts. She hears—a weird rushing sound. And she can hear her own heartbeat. She hears those men talking, but they covered her ears, so she only hears muffled words and wordless shouts.

She can taste blood—so much blood. Why did she do that? Who did that? Did she really eat—despite her mouth being so dry. They haven't given her any water, or any food.

She can smell—her own vomit and blood. She can smell the flesh. She can smell the person she just—oil and leather. She can smell dirt and a weird metallic scent in the stale air.

She doesn't know where she was. She—she doesn't know—

Someone grabs her arm and wrenches her out of whatever seat she was placed in. She can't tell if she cries out or not, but her shoulder sings in pain at the harsh pull.

"Get up!" The shout was loud enough for Number 78 to hear through whatever was covering her ears. She flinches back, trying to get away, but the hand on her arm wrenches her closer.

"Bitch, I—et up!"

She feels a pop and she bites her lip, hoping she doesn't make any noise from the pain. She trips over her feet and something jabs into her side when she falls, punching all of the air out of her. She can hear her loud cry as the thing covering her ears is ripped off from the force of her fall.

"Clumsy piece of shit!" Number 78 cries out when something kicks her directly into her stomach. She covers her face with her tied up hands, bringing her knees up to cover her stomach before the man can kick her again.

"Hey! We've still gotta sell her, you idiot," Another man speaks with the same annoyed tone He always had.

"Do you want to give this thing a chance to use that ability on us? You heard that headmaster," The man who kicked Number 78 sneers before another kick lands, this time on her knee with a pop!

"You're such an idiot." Number 78 couldn't tell what language the woman was speaking. "It's the ability we're selling, Yoshida. We can't have it too injured and not be able to transform."

One of the men scoffs loudly. "It's not like it'll kill it. Besides, it can heal its wounds."

"When it's well-fed. I can't believe you lasted this long," The woman speaks before there's a rustle of fabric.

Number 78 curls into a tighter ball when something soft touches her arm. She bites back a whimper when five sharp pinpricks dig into her skin.

The thing covering her eyes is pulled away, some strands of her hair being ripped with it, and the buzzing lights blind her. She tries to duck her head, but something grabs her hair right next to the scalp and wrenches back, making her cry out.

Dark brown eyes stare down at Number 78, completely indifferent. "Now, now. Don't go hiding from us. It's rude."

Number 78 trembles from the pain and—grief, confusion—the terror. The woman hums quietly before she stands up, pulling up the girl by her hair.

"Let's go. I don't want to risk losing daylight while this thing is with us."

Number 78 tries to keep her tears at bay. She really does try. It doesn't work out when the woman slaps her with the back of her hand.

"Things like you don't deserve those tears." The woman hums again, still indifferent. "Though, many buyers will pay more if you are crying..."

Buyers?

The word makes more tears fall. What buyers? What—

"Go get the car ready, Williams."

Why did this have to happen?

"Got it."

What did she do wrong this time?

\\\

It was hard to remember. The feelings were there, but she didn't know if they were new or not.

The terror—Did she always try to avoid the adults? Did she try to escape this—because she was terrified of them? Or was she just selfish? Was she always terrified of water? Of the hammer—

The despair... Was she always alone, or was she mean to the other kids? Had she always cried silently in that basement—

The pain. Did the pain come from Him? Was she born with this pain? The aching in her bones; the stiffness in her hands; the times her legs aren't allowed to move normally because the pain is too much?

It was hard for her to remember. The pain and the fear makes her memories all muddy. Number 78 doesn't remember when she was abandoned at the orphanage. Number 78 doesn't remember if she has a name. Number 78 doesn't remember what she looks like—

Number 78 thought she was doing good. She did her chores—and even the chores the other kids refused to do, because if none of their chores were done, she'd be sent to that—

If the chores were done, she still got punished, yes... but it was only a slap with a ruler—until her wrists bled. Until she could almost see the muscle—if she spoke without permission, or, or she tried to go to the bathroom without permission, or—

Number 78 remembers—it hurt a lot. Worse than the pain. It made her brain buzz andshecouldn'tthinkrightandthepainisworsenowbecauseherlimbscan'tstopshakingandshewantsthemtostopshakingandohGodshekilled—

"You are a leech. I can't have you leeching off of us for any longer. You're better off dead instead of killing us."

He gave her away after—and Number 78 doesn't understand. She was—she was so sleepy and the pain hurt, but it was easier because of the sharp needle the adults stabbed into her arm. She saw some kind of case be exchanged and then—a growl, or maybe a purr? She doesn't—and then there was nothing after that.

Number 78 wakes up with something covering her eyes, her ears—her wrists were tied by some kind of plastic rope and she didn't—she doesn't know what she did wrong. What did she do? Was it—was it because of—him?

It had to be. He gave her away because he was dead—killed—

Number 78 didn't know what this thing was—the thing these adults forced her in. It was shaped weird and had wheels bigger than wheelbarrow wheels, with four of them instead of three, and the back opened up. She was shoved in and they—they closed the back and it got dark and she's stuck in the—and it's just like the base—but she can't see and then, there's a weird noise. A rumbling, and voices—the adults.

They were arguing. Number 78 heard them clearly. This car—is this a car? What's a car? What did it do—wasn't the one the woman picked. It was conspicuous—which means obvious. She's never seen a car before. Are they obvious? How come she's never seen one—and then the woman starts speaking in the language Number 78 didn't know.

Number 78 couldn't focus. It's dark and it's hot and she can barely see and it's just like—and she wants to get out. She wants to get out! But the weird plastic ropes—they look like black bracelets with a piece poking out from where it was pulled through—were around her numb wrists and the car kept bumping everywhere and she just wanted to leave—

There's another growl, or purr, or maybe the buzzing in her head is making her hear things, but—her eyes snap around, desperately hoping there isn't an animal in the trunk with her. They stop on something white dangling from the top of whatever she was forced in. Number 78 stares, watching it twist and turn in the movement of the car.

There are pictures on it. An arrow pointing down, another thing like the car, and—a person running away.

The growl comes back and Number 78 doesn't think. She reaches up and pulls the thing down and—

CLICK

Light spills into the dark as the thing that was shut above her opens up. She sees—wet stone? Black stone? And—lines and the sky—raining. It's raining, but during the day. The thing opens further and Number 78 feels her heartbeat in her ears.

Buildings are moving by. So many buildings, all clumped together and grey and black and—fast. The car is moving really, really fast. She can't—she'll get hurt. She doesn't—

"YOU IDIOT!" The woman screams from inside the car and Number 78 pushes herself out. "YOU DIDN'T CHECK IF THERE WAS A TRUNK RELEASE!"

POP! SNAP!

Number 78 cries out as she hits the hard ground with her shoulder first. It was rougher than stone, and her legs and arms are stinging now from scraping against it.

SCREEEEEECH!

Number 78 whirls her head around, scrambling to get off of the ground. Everything was spinning and she—

The doors of the car are pushed open and she sees the two men, blurry and smudged in her vision, scramble out of the car.

Number 78 pushes off of the ground, her feet tripping over each other and causing her knee to slam against the hard ground this time, but she keeps herself upright.

She runs.

\\\

The sky wept for the lack of light, strangled by dark clouds hovering over New York City. It was a rare moment where the streets weren't filled with people, most taking refuge from the wailing sky. A young man and a raccoon take the opportunity to amble on home, basking in the solace the rain has brought.

A perfect day. If only Rosie could be healthy enough to enjoy it.

Edgar Allan Poe, private detective, renowned author, and military officer, enjoys the melancholic emotions the world around him was emitting. It wasn't every day he actively goes out on the town like most others do when it's dreadfully bright.

Quite honestly, he still would have preferred to stay inside today. But, both Rosie and Karl, his furry friend, urged him to take this trip. He needed the fresh and polluted air.

"I suppose you would like a prize for convincing me to get out of the house, hm?" Edgar asks, glancing down at the raccoon chittering on his shoulder. Karl spins around before climbing over to Edgar's other shoulder, chittering louder in his agreement.

Edgar's eyes, hidden behind his messy bangs, roll at the excitement, pale lips twitching with a stifled smile. "I suppose I could sacrifice a few minutes in a crowd to get you something, Karl."

"I'll have to stop by the bakery and get Rosie something," Edgar adds mentally, shoulders rising up to his ears. Entering two public buildings... both possibly crowded... Edgar blanches at the thought, but sighs in defeat.

'Twas a wonderful and very much needed walk. Edgar can't possibly repay his sister and his friend with nothing.

Edgar rolls his shoulders and changes his direction towards the closest intersection. At least the solitude on the journey to the bakery will be enjoyable.

A scream, child-like and terrified, tears right through the solitude. The man snaps his head up, a single violet eye peeking through dark bangs, confused and slightly annoyed.

"Just another thing to interrupt this peaceful day..." Edgar bemoans mentally, instinctively glancing around for anything amiss. His fingers twitch to grab the gun hidden beneath his trench coat.

The air... it felt stifled. Like a bubble of chaos and catastrophe about to be popped.

Karl screeches loudly and leaps off of Edgar's shoulder.

"Karl?! What—" He reaches forward in an attempt to grab the raccoon before he could run off, missing him by a hair. He curses under his breath and begins to run after the animal. "Karl! Come back here! You can't run off!"

"I can't have animal control on my ass again!" Edgar thinks in his panic. It's not his fault Karl loves sweet things and prefers to try them inside the shops they come from.

The rain falls harder, nearly blinding the man. He continues running, following the tap-tap-tap of Karl's nails against the sidewalk. He nearly slides off of his feet when he turns a corner, almost catching Karl.

"Shit!" Edgar hisses, missing Karl again. Thunder booms loudly above him and he barely has time to glance up when something white appears in his peripheral vision and—

A loud cry bounces off of the surrounding buildings. Something—no, someone slams into him. Edgar falls back with a huff, landing hard on the flooded street.

He winces as he sits up, lifting a hand up from the water. Just a minor scrape, nothing major.

His bangs stick to his face haphazardly. A single violet eye is revealed as he looks down, frowning. Who ran into—

His expression freezes at the sight of ametrine eyes, terrified and lost. Skin too pale and too bruised to be healthy, muddy hair matted and chopped into horrid disarray, a tiny, emaciated body shivering like a newborn lamb beneath a shirt covered in old bloodstains... a girl, fearing for her very life.

Time returns to normal and tiny hands, pale, bruised, and shaking terribly so, covered in scars and tied at the wrists—by zip ties?!—reach up to grab his shirt.

"Tasukete!" The foreign word escapes the girl's throat in a croak. "Tasukete! Onegaishimasu!"

Karl barrels over, causing the girl to scream, flinching back with her hands covering her face. She nearly leaps on her feet, likely to run again, but Edgar snaps out of his shock just in time to grab her gently by her shoulders.

"What's wrong? Can you understand me?" He asks, nearly pulling his hands back when the girl flinches so badly from just a simple touch.

"The language sounds Asian. The hair and eyes... has to be an ability user. And the zip ties—kidnapped, or sold. But, the bruises—the emaciation..." Edgar bites back a sneer, careful to keep his grip from tightening.

"YOU—THERE YOU ARE—" Edgar snaps his head up at the scream, reaching an arm over the girl to hold her close to his chest. He ignores how she tries to flinch away again.

A man stumbles to a stop, panting like a dog. He stares down at Edgar and the girl, eyes wide with madness and anger. A woman seemingly appears out of the rain, stopping a few feet behind the man.

"I-I must say! You shouldn't hold it close to you, sir! It can hurt you!" The woman exclaims through her own panting.

"'It'?" Edgar repeats quietly, glancing down at the child. It? She called her...

"Let me get it off your hands, sir. It's an ability user—said to transform into a tiger. Very dangerous." The woman takes a few steps forward with a sickly smile.

Karl screams and stands guard in front of Edgar and the girl. The woman stops walking, pulling her hand to her chest as she grimaces at the sight of the animal.

"Take another step, and I'll put you through something worse than death," Edgar declares, his visible eye flashing closer to indigo in his anger.

"Elaine!" A man's voice shouts from behind the two chasing after the girl and the mist pops out one. "Elaine, did you find that—"

"Three of them. Likely traffickers—no, the only choice. None of them can be her biological parent, and the only one who has the slightest of similarities has more of a mix of Western features," Edgar deduces before he slowly stands up, keeping the girl in his arms. He refrains from glancing down at her again.

She's so light. And she's still trembling like a newborn lamb. Something else is definitely going on past the terror she must be feeling.

"Disgusting," Edgar sneers, putting his free hand into the inner pocket of his trench coat. "On second thought, the world will be a lot better without you three in it."

The three adults barely have time to shuffle back before Edgar flips open the book he always keeps with him, golden light shining through the rain.

Black Cat in the Rue Morgue activates, sucking in the three traffickers into the story. Edgar smiles coldly, a cruel gleam making his eyes glow. He decided to bring one of his... more twisted manuscripts with him, after all.

The pages fall to the wet ground with a plap! Edgar doesn't spare it a glance to focus more on the girl he saved. He slowly lowers his arm from its protective hold, carefully crouching down to be at a lower height for the girl.

"Are you okay?" He asks softly, though she definitely can't understand him.

The girl trembles, fingers tugging at each other and nails picking at already destroyed cuticles. Edgar scowls at the sight of the zip ties and reaches forward. The girl rips her arms back, making herself fall backwards.

Blood falls down her chin from where she bit her lip, keeping her cries silent. Edgar, undeterred, but careful, reaches forward with his palm out.

"I can get it off—" Edgar winces and wracks his brain. How can he tell her he wants to take off the zip ties?

Karl chitters and climbs up Edgar's back to sit on his shoulder. He chitters again, staring down at the girl. She stares up at him, ametrine eyes wide.

Though, they weren't exactly ametrine, were they? More like a sunset, or a sunrise. A fascinating, bright violet fading into hand spun gold. It was otherworldly; awesome in its beauty.

Karl chitters, almost sounding like he was laughing, and climbs back down to sit in front of the girl. She shuffles, but she doesn't move or flinch back.

Edgar watches, completely fascinated as Karl patters closer until he was directly in front of the girl's hands. The girl flinches when the raccoon grabs her wrists, but she doesn't seem as terrified.

Disgusting wretches. Harming a child so much, she's terrified of even the slightest of touches from humans, yet accepting of an animal's touch.

Frigid halls and sombre rooms. No one allowed to be around. Only the animals who traverse the ivy wall—

Edgar shoves the memories out and locks them deep in his heart. This is not the time for such melancholy.

He gently shakes his head and focuses back on the child in front of him, witnessing Karl chew threw the last section of the zip tie. The raccoon sits back and lets out a loud purr.

The girl glances up at Edgar, staring right in his eye for only a few seconds before she averts her gaze. "Hontō desu ka?"

Edgar blinks, staring at his animal friend when he actually answers the girl. The girl glances between him and Karl, biting her bleeding lip once more.

"—said to transform into a tiger—" Edgar blinks again. But... can also talk to animals?

Terror wracks her frame, but the girl slowly nods her head, wrapping her arms around her torso. Karl chitters happily before he scurries back onto Edgar's shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Edgar tilts his head, glancing at Karl. "What is it, Karl?"

Karl chitters again and points at the girl while giving his human a look. Edgar stares for a long moment before he focuses back on the girl.

"Biting through her restraints... nodding her head... asking... to trust... me?" Edgar adjusts where he sits on his knee and holds out both of his hands.

"You're safe now," Edgar says softly, watching the girl stare at his hands like they were a foreign concept to her. "You're safe, dear."

The girl, still not knowing what he is saying, probably coming off of the adrenaline she must have been feeling, sniffles quietly. She reaches her hands up and furiously rubs at her eyes as the tears start to fall.

Edgar tenses and nearly falls back on his ass when the girl leaps into his outstretched arms, hands gripping tightly at anything they could grab. Edgar stares down at the girl, eyes wide and hands twitching, unsure of what to do.

"Gomen—Gomennasai! Gomen—" The girl rambles through her sobs. Edgar awkwardly wraps an arm around the girl, holding her closer.

Even with the language barrier, a gentle tone can convey everything in a sentence. But, to have a girl weeping so much, just from soft words...

"You're safe now, child," Edgar repeats quietly, hidden eyes burning as they glare daggers at the soaked manuscript laying innocently on the sidewalk. "I promise you."

\\\

The rain fell in grey sheets across the city, seemingly endless from the black sky. The streets were empty, where not even a car passed by.

Even the blocks outside the hospital kept quiet in their desolation in the eve of night. Stepping through the doors of the building, however, enters a whole other world.

Every seat was taken up; a baby cried; a couple argued. Doctors walked briskly between the gurneys lined against the sides of the hallways. Nurses worked tirelessly to keep those waiting in patient spirits, and those suffering in hopeful ones.

Smoke billows out and surrounds the tall figure standing in the opened doors. A thin hand reaches up and grabs the meerschaum pipe, covering the bowl. Dark eyes glance around, taking in the overcrowded emergency room for a few moments.

Black derby shoes clicked against the tile flooring, the man entering paving a way towards the reception desk. Eyes catch onto the black tweed suit and the navy blue overcoat before the whispers start.

"Is it—"

"It can't be him!"

"First Edgar Allan Poe, and now—"

The embers in the pipe are completely smothered by the time the criminal investigator makes it to the desk. It's placed gently in the pocket of the overcoat while the reception nurse looks up.

"Hello, how may I help you?" The nurse asks, exhausted and not even attempting to smile. Her shift was meant to end an hour ago, after all.

"I am 'ere to investigate the Jane Doe, a Mister Allan Poe brought in a few hours ago," The man speaks concisely, holding up a card.

The nurse blinks slowly before inspecting the card. She blinks again before sighing.

"August Duhpin?" She recites the name on the card, too tired to try and attempt to get the pronunciation right.

"Auguste Dupin, police consultant," The investigator corrects plainly.

The nurse nods her head, already focusing back on the paperwork in front of her. "Room 1023. Tenth floor."

"Thank you," Auguste inclines his head before turning on his heel and begins to walk towards the elevator.

"It is! Detective—"

"—Auguste Dupin!"

"Did he say—"

"He's helping the Edgar Allan Poe?! I wonder what happened!"

Auguste ignores the whispers, waiting for a few nurses to leave the elevator before he enters. He turns and presses the button for the fifth floor and holds down the button to close the doors.

They close before anyone tries to walk towards the elevator. Auguste sighs, his shoulders easing just the slightest amount.

"Tenth floor... 'as a decent view of Central Park and the surrounding neighborhoods. A bit of a calmer floor—away from the influenza patients," Auguste thinks as the elevator doors open and he steps out. "Easier to catch a missing patient. Easier to watch for suspicious activity."

A good room on short notice. For both Jane Doe and the nurses.

Auguste messes with his meerschaum pipe, stopping before Room 1023. He knocks twice before opening the door. Hopefully, it doesn't scare the poor girl.

A head of messy dark hair snaps up, a pale hand reaching into a trench coat. A single violet eye stares at him, wide and almost feral. The hand is quickly taken out from the trench coat and Edgar turns in his chair.

"Auguste!" Edgar is careful to keep his voice quiet, shoulders relaxing in relief. "I apologize for calling you on your day off... but this—"

Auguste holds up his hand, walking further into the room. "There's no need for apologies, old friend. From your tone when you called, I wagered this involved a child. We cannot delay."

Edgar sighs, nodding his head. The amount of expression not hidden by messy bangs aged because of mere exhaustion. Cases drenched in trafficking always brought a bone-deep weariness.

Auguste takes in the slightly ruffled appearance of his friend and fellow detective. Water still dripped from his trench coat, slowly increasing the volume of the puddle beneath his chair. His hair reached its full length down past his shoulders in damp ringlets. There sat a soaked and somewhat damaged manuscript on the end table next to the hospital bed. And Karl was nowhere to be found on his person.

He frowns, but stays silent, walking closer to take a look at the child in the hospital cot. There, Karl had laid his head on the girl's chest, curled up into a ball on her torso.

Pallid skin, severely deficit in vitamin D, covered in cuts, bruises, dirt, scars. The nurses have yet to come by and help clean the girl; likely from how terrified she is. The hair, cut in such a horrid way, was matted and brown from dirt and dried blood of all things. It must be a paler color than brown, to be such a dark shade. Blonde? Or more likely silver—maybe even white. The darker streak—the black in her hair was also natural.

The hospital gown, it hung off of the girl like a curtain, even at its smallest size. It made her appear young, maybe seven, or eight years old... but, the emaciation and clear evidence of malnutrition made it obvious she was older than what her appearance showed. Ten to twelve is more likely.

"How utterly despicable," Auguste murmurs, glaring down at the bright red marks wrapped around the poor girl's wrists. Not even normal rope; they had used zip ties.

"The police will deal with them..." Edgar tilts his head, appearing almost gleeful as he stares at the manuscript on the end table "...at some point in the future."

Auguste hums, his mouth twitching. He glances back at the manuscript, completely unsurprised.

Edgar hated the innocent be unduly punished while the culprits got away. Especially when the victims are those harboring abilities.

"Japanese, yes? Does she speak English?" Auguste asks, making the brunette detective look up with a wide eye.

"Japanese?" Edgar glances back over at the girl. "Hm... yes, that makes sense. And no. She ran into me, quite literally. Two out of the three traffickers could speak English. I had contacted the authorities, of course, and they found a car still running in the middle of the street with the trunk popped open."

"Smart girl. 'ave the police given you a time for when a translator would get 'ere?"

Edgar shakes his head with a sigh. "I haven't called for one. She nearly bit a chunk out of my arm trying to run when the paramedics got to us. She has not been shown much, if any, kindness."

"Then, I shall 'ave a Japanese-English dictionary be sent 'ere immediately." Auguste takes out his phone, already typing in his dearest friend's name. "'ave you seen any signs of 'er ability?"

"The leader of the traffickers had claimed she could transform into a tiger," Edgar states, making Auguste hum thoughtfully.

"Transformative? An ability many would pay millions for," He states scornfully, placing his phone to his ear.

"I haven't seen any signs, but it wouldn't be surprising if that woman lied in such an idiotic attempt to get me to release the girl," Edgar says with a dark edge to his tone before he sighs heavily.

He runs a hand through his soaking hair and glances over his shoulder. "After talking with him, can you tell the nurses to put security on this floor? I don't want a single reporter to even try to barrage this girl with their questions."

"Of course, old friend. Though, I'm sure Karl is more than enough of a deterrent after the last media incident."

Edgar stares blankly at the older man, making him chuckle. There's a pause in the dial and someone picks up the call.

"Dupin? Is something the matter?" The ever curious and oh-so harmonious voice of Auguste's dearest friend speaks softly into his ear.

Auguste turns back towards the door and opens it. "Dear friend, I need you to procure a Japanese-English dictionary and bring it—"

The door is shut behind him, leaving Edgar and Jane Doe alone once more.

\\\

The sky has stopped weeping, but the clouds remained, dark as the night sky above them and just as melancholic. The unsleeping city begins to breathe life into the streets once more, none the wiser of the wretched crime committed.

"Who could have managed to ship the girl out of Japan?" It was confounding as it was despairing.

Japan is strict on their laws over ability users. Anyone with an ability, no matter which country they live in, knows this very well. If an ability is revealed, everyone, no matter their age, must have it registered under public record. If one is a registered ability user, they must work for organizations with skilled business permits, or they must submit reports monthly to continue to work.

The fact that a possible transformation ability slipped into the cracks and was trafficked out of Japan... It either means her ability was never registered from the beginning, or someone actually managed to sell her without the government knowing.

"They would have called to investigate by now..." Edgar mutters, glaring darkly at the sky as the clouds start to part.

The full moon shines brightly in the starless sky, cascading across the city in deep blues. A single violet eye glitters beneath the moonlight as it trails inside the hospital room.

It trails across the floor before it touches the bed, climbing up and finally hitting the sleeping girl. A breath escapes her mouth, quiet and gentle.

Edgar, ignorant of the movement behind him, taps against his side.

He frowns and continues to think about the entire situation. "She couldn't have been trafficked for very long... but her state... she was abused, clearly, and for a long time..."

He and Auguste came to the same conclusion on her possible age when taking the emaciation into account. He'll have to ask her once she wakes up, but she must be around ten, maybe even twelve years old.

She was born in the later years of the Great War... which makes it possible that she had parents who loved her... and either died or surrendered her to keep her safe. But... that would mean she would be—should be registered in public record. Unless... her ability didn't show until a few years later or—

"—someone exploited its use," Edgar speaks quietly with a frown.

crack—pop!

The sudden noise snaps Edgar out of his thoughts before he whirls around with a hand on his gun when Karl yells. The girl is arched off of the hospital bed at an unnatural angle, her eyes snapped wide open and her fingers ripping the sheets below her.

The light of the full moon grows brighter, forming a halo of blue around the girl. Her bones snap out of place before her skin starts to stretch over growing muscles. Edgar brings an arm up to block his eyes as the light flashes a blinding silver.

"A transformation—" Edgar slowly lowers his arm when the light fades.

...into a tiger.

Violet on yellow eyes stared at him, dilated and feral. The white fur seemingly glows, the black stripes sucking in any hint of the moonlight. The tiger stood nearly three times the height of the hospital bed and a low rumble left its throat.

Every hair stands on end. It takes all of his willpower to make sure his body doesn't move a single inch, tensing all of his muscles and freezing in place.

She is way bigger than a normal tiger. Why didn't she transform before?

Edgar blinks and almost turns his head to stare at the moon. Something in his mind screams at him to not break eye contact. The realization still runs around in his head.

"The moon came out..." Transforming into a beast beneath a full moon... The girl is a weretiger. What a fascinating ability! He hasn't heard of such a thing before!

The tiger makes an... odd sound—like a forceful breath at the same time as a snort—and walks forward.

"A-ah—" Edgar stutters on his words, his heart leaping into his throat.

The tiger is the girl's ability... but it's still a tiger.

"Wait a second—" The girl, turned tiger, butts her head against Edgar's chest, nearly making him fall back from the force. Edgar tenses even more, staring wide-eyed.

The tiger steps back, making the odd sound again—isn't it called... chuffing? Because tigers can't purr—and sits down.

Violet on yellow eyes stare up at him; unafraid and knowing.

Edgar slowly blinks as the girl—no, the tiger flicks its tail. "You are not the girl."

Because, if this tiger was the girl, she would be either growling and cowering in a corner in her confusion, attacking Edgar in her fear, or trying to escape in her panic. The tiger is doing neither.

The tiger chuffs again, almost... amused. It leans forward and gently nips at Edgar's hand before butting its head against it.

Edgar's hand twitches before he slowly lifts it, placing it on top of the tiger's head. The tiger continues to chuff, pressing up against the hand.

"I'm petting a tiger..." Edgar mutters, not really understanding how this day came to this. It was only meant to include a peaceful walk in the rain, getting some pastries for Karl and Rosie, and ending with some more writing once he returned home... and yet he saved a child ability user from traffickers... and is currently petting said child's ability—a possibly sentient ability.

Something... heavy fills Edgar's heart.

The origin of abilities and how they awaken are things still unknown in this universe. Though, it's unspoken how the majority of ability users awaken theirs. Trauma... Fight or die... An ability is awakened when the user needs it the most.

He is constantly shivering. From a lack of food. A lack of warmth. His mind burns with the need to write. His fingers ache and bleed from the lacerations of his previous punishment.

He's is forbidden from writing... but he wants to write. He needs to write.

The young man narrows his eyes and crouches down, coming face to face with the tiger. They both stare at each other, both knowing and aware. Nothing needs to be spoken out loud.

But, the promise is heard all the same. "I will protect you. I swear it."

A shift in the story. A different outcome. An unlikely pairing. The White Tiger and The Black Cat.

Chapter Text

    The sky lightened to a soft grey, the dawn of a new day slowly waking from a dead slumber. The city stands still; a rare moment of complete rest amongst the unsleeping streets. The only time the unsleeping streets sleep. Just before dawn.

  The pale grey light starts to entrench on dark lawns and ancient trees, a small desolation inside an urban invasion of modernity. Black shadows grow darker and grow into monstrosities of the mind across the unkempt ground. They reach for the old colonial house sitting in the middle of a silent clearing, but never quite touch.

  The worn door with chipped paint and rusting nails, but greatly cherished, slowly opens with a weeping creeaaak!

  Edgar walks into the dark house, lazily throwing his trenchcoat towards the coat rack in the corner. It misses and falls to the floor with a heavy plap, still damp from the storm hours before.

  He didn't bother to pay it any attention. The child in his arms took priority.

  The young girl who, quite literally, ran into him to escape from traffickers. The young girl who can transform into a tiger, who has its own sentience.

  Edgar carefully lifts the girl higher on his hip, her head moving closer to his neck. Her fingers still held a shaking death grip on his shirt, even after she fell asleep in the car ride here.

\\\

    "Impossible! To think that an ability..." The doctor trails off in shock and wonder. Edgar's fingers twitch at how the young girl cowered beneath the doctor's stare. Staring at the girl like she was some kind of... specimen.

  He clears his throat, his eye narrowed in warning.

  The doctor pales before clearing her throat and forces a smile on her face. "I-I do apologize Detective Poe! It—It's just—her wounds are healing at an... impossible rate! It must be some kind of regeneration ability, but—none have been recorded to be this... strong!"

  Violet on yellow eyes and practically glowing white fur. A knowing, and amused, being.

  "I say, she can probably be discharged within the hour... if you can get a temporary residence for her. I doubt staying the night in a hospital will do her mental health any favors." The doctor sighs, clasping her hands together in an obvious attempt to stop herself from reaching over to comfort the terrified girl. "It is unconventional, but with how advanced this ability looks to be... there's nothing we can really do to help her."

\\\

    Edgar glances down at the girl he discharged from the hospital. The poor girl was still filthy, but she did allow him to wipe her down with some wet wipes the nurses had graciously left in the room. He knows it isn't a comfortable clean like a bath or a shower could give, but for a girl abused and neglected for so long, it was probably the most clean she's been.

  Karl chitters quietly from Edgar's other shoulder, reaching a paw out to pet the girl's head. Edgar smiles softly and tiredly before he starts walking again.

  "Eddie? Is that you?" A gentle voice, weak, but still so warm and bright, speaks up from the stairs somewhere further in the house before a light is turned on.

  With raven hair in long ringlets pulled back by a deep blue ribbon, soft pale violet eyes almost like a foggy grey in pre-dawn, and ghostly pale skin, unblemished and slightly gaunt from ill health, a young woman stood at the top of the stairs, appearing like a spectre dressed in a long white nightgown.

  She blinks before almost floating down the stairs with her light footsteps. "Edgar! Oh, I was so worried! I thought something had happened! You were gone for so—"

  Edgar puts a finger up to his lips with a quiet shush. "Shh. She's sleeping, Rosie."

  "She? Who—" Rosalie Poe, little sister of Edgar and his last shining light in life, gasps quietly, freezing on the last step. She stares at the child in Edgar's arms looking as horrified and angry as Edgar felt.

  "I'm sorry for not contacting you, but everything happened quite quickly," Edgar speaks sincerely as he walks a few steps closer.

  Rosalie lowers her hand towards her chest and takes the final step off of the stairs. "Oh... Edgar. What happened? Oh, look at her..."

  Rosalie, already shaking off the shock, walks closer to get a better look at the girl. Edgar takes a small step back before his sister could touch the girl.

  "She ran into me on my walk... with traffickers chasing after her—those wretched—" Edgar sucks the air between his teeth before he forces himself to relax "—and Karl managed to get her to trust me. She'll be staying with us until I can get to the bottom of this."

  "Traffickers?" Rosalie repeats, completely aghast.

  Edgar nods his head with a twitch. "Ability traffickers. But—"

  "She looks worse than being an ability user to be sold," Rosalie speaks for Edgar. He nods his head again, jaw clenching in his attempt to rein in his anger.

  Rosalie smiles sadly and reaches a hand up to Edgar's cheek. She brushes his bangs out of his face, revealing the cloudy pupil of his other eye, a paler, more misty violet iris than the one usually seen. She stares at it while rubbing her thumb underneath the blind eye.

  "You will catch them. I know it, Eddie. And I know you'll make them pay." Rosalie glances back down at the young girl. Her smile grows soft before she focuses back on her brother.

  "Though, you can't do anything until you rest some. I'll watch over the girl," She continues with a knowing look.

  Edgar's arms tightens over the girl, making Rosalie blink. She quickly hides her smile while Karl just laughs unabashedly.

  "There's nothing to worry about, Eddie. If she shows any signs of waking, I'll call for you. I promise," She says instead of laughing along.

  "He's hopeless," She thinks instead. And he doesn't even realize it.

  Edgar stays tense for a long moment before finally relaxing with a heavy sigh. Rosalie can almost visibly see the exhaustion roll off of him in waves.

  "I'll set her up in the North Bedroom," Edgar says before he starts to walk past his sister. He pauses on the stairs and turns around. "If she turns into a tiger... don't break eye contact. She's quite friendly if you mean no harm."

  Rosalie blinks and stands watching her brother continue walking up the stairs. Her mouth opens before she snaps it close, her head tilting.

  "Turns... into a tiger?"

\\\

    It was a gentle breeze that was realized first. There was no stuffy air; no musty smell of constantly leaking puddles and heavily rusted metal—digging into her neck. Digging into her skin—no sticky heat that makes her brain fuzzy.

  Number 78 is not waking up in the basement.

  The aches and the throbbing pain throughout every limb is normal... but the bed, the actual bed, is something completely new. She's seen them from afar, in the orphanage when she was allowed to wander the halls, but she was never allowed to touch one, let alone lay on one.

  It was soft. Softer than she thought a bed could be. Her back was actually less achy than it usually is.

  Number 78 opens her eyes before she clenches them shut at the brightness of her surroundings. She makes a small noise at the pain in her eyes now before she squints her eyes open.

  A wood ceiling streaked with sun rays stares back at her. Number 78 blinks.

  Her arm moves and she flinches at the sudden rubbing of something soft against it. She looks down, wincing at the bright sunlight shining in the room, and blinks again.

  There's a blanket on top of her. A really nice... really white blanket.

  Number 78 sits up, pressing her hand against the bed. She pauses when her hand sinks slightly into the mattress and glances down. Pale purple sheets stare back at her.

  She runs her fingers over the fabric, feeling the soft threads catch onto her cracked and damaged skin. The color...

  The stained glass has purple in them, but this... she's never seen such a shade before. It made her feel warm... or maybe the warmth came from having a blanket.

  There's a loud scream and Number 78 jumps, her head snapping to the right. "You're awake!"

  She blinks and stares at the animal clambering on top of the bed. It's the raccoon... from the—

  She grabs the coat, terrified, relieved—

  "Help me!" The words leave her aching throat as a croak. She wants—she wants to go back—but, does she really? "Help me! Please!"

  A violet eye—dark like a dying purple flower— stares down at her, completely caught off guard.

  Number 78 looks around wildly. The scent of roses and ink wafts around her as she breathes in sharply.

  It was a large room—very large. She's surprised there weren't more beds in here. The walls were all wood except the one were the door was—being a pale purple like the bedsheets. There was some kind of desk with a mirror attached—and there was even a bookshelf. A chair sat next to the bed, matching the decoration of the desk with the mirror.

  "We brought you home! You're not in that stinky hospital anymore!" The raccoon chitters, sitting on top of Number 78's knees.

  Number 78 focuses back on the raccoon with a head tilt. Hos...pital? So, that's how that word is pronounced?

  "Wh-where... where—" Her voice cuts off before she can finish her question. She clears her throat, but it doesn't get any better.

  "Home, you dumbo! You slept all night!" The raccoon chitters again. Number 78 frowns at the name of the place she's in.

  "Doesn't—o-orphanage doesn't—look like this," She says quietly.

  The orphanage has white walls and wood floors decaying from years of neglect. It has bars over the windows, that weren't stained glass, and no doors leading into the rooms the children sleep in.

  The raccoon stares at her for a long, unnervingly quiet, moment. He walks closer before sitting on Number 78's thighs.

  "Dad brought you home from the hospital, remember? You healed so fast, the stinky doctors let you leave early." The raccoon laughs in a sort of... screechy, ear-piercing way. "Well, you did fall asleep pretty fast. You looked really tired."

  ...Dad?

  Number 78 tilts her head, blinking slowly. "The—the man—"

Creeaaak!

  Number 78 snaps her head up, her heart jumping up into her throat. She holds her breath as someone walks into the room.

  A woman, who didn't look like any of the caretakers, carrying a silver tray, comes in with soft steps and a... smile. She was... so pretty... and her eyes...

  "Hello, sweetheart. How are you feeling?" The woman speaks slowly and carefully, but her voice is gentle and soft.

  "Her eyes are so warm..." Number 78 can't help but think. She's never... No adult she has ever met has ever looked at her with such... warmth.

  "F-fine..." Number 78 mutters. She wants to stay quiet, but the woman might—she doesn't want to get punished again because she doesn't want to speak.

  The woman walks closer and Number 78 leans away, glancing over at the large window across from the open door. She snaps her eyes back towards the woman when she hears a thud, watching her set the tray down on the table next to the bed. The woman's smile twitches wider for a moment before she brushes the front of her dress, sitting gracefully in the chair.

  "I am... R-Rosalie—Poe Rosalie. My older brother—he f-found?" The woman clears her throat and reaches towards her side.

  Number 78 clenches her eyes shut, flinching away from the ruler. They are going to punish her again. She spoke out of turn. She didn't mean to! She really didn't—

  There are no sharp pinpricks on her arm. There isn't a sharp pain or a smack with a ruler, nor a hand. Number 78 slowly opens her eyes, but keeps herself curled away.

  A book is pulled out, thick and new-looking. Number 78 traces the unfamiliar letters before the woman lifts it higher, revealing the kanji.

  "Japanese-English dictionary?" She mouthes the words, especially the middle one.

  ...Japanese is her language, so is this... English another language? Is she—was she taken out of Japan?

  "Older brother... b-brings..." The woman mutters quietly to herself, rapidly flipping through the pages "...you... here... home."

  "Am I not in Japan anymore?" Number 78 asks with wide eyes.

  "J-Japan... is Japan... I..." Poe-san flips through the dictionary, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "I can't believe Eddie read and memorized this entire thing already..."

  "No. This isn't Japan. We're in America!" The raccoon chitters happily, running in a circle before sitting back down on Number 78. "I heard you scream and ran to find you. Dad chased after me and then you ran into him! Those gross people tried to get him to give you to them, but then he used his ability to teach them a lesson!"

  "A-America?! L-like the U-United States?" She vaguely remembers peeking at the old globe in Takemura-sensei's classroom. America... Like the United States of America?

  "Yeah! You know what it is?" The raccoon exclaims excitedly.

  Oh. Oh no... She's not—America is so far away from Japan. And she—she's not in Japan. He really did give her away. The case, the needle, waking up—

  Number 78 grips the blanket tightly, staring down at her scarred hands. Her sight starts to blur and her throat burns.

  "Oh! Are you okay?! I didn't—I didn't mean to make you cry!" The raccoon shouts, getting closer to grab Number 78's hands.

  "Oh! Karl! What did you say to her?!" Miss Poe exclaims before she's kneeling next to the bed. Number 78 flinches back when she sees a blurry hand come into view. She sniffs again and furiously rubs her eyes.

  She's crying! She's—they're going to punish her! She's not allowed to cry. Monsters aren't allowed to cry! She's—oh no. No, no, no, no.

  "You are worthless. Not even your tears make you human. Just a waste of water." He's right next to her. He continues to whisper the things she knows she is.

  Number 78 hiccups and tries to cover her ears, the tears still falling. "Shut up. Shut up. Shut up, shut up—"

  "You're not allowed to cry. Only humans are allowed to cry, not things like you."

  No air went into her lungs. They hurt. Did He kick her there again? Is that her punishment? Her breath always came back to her after a few minutes... so why... why can't she breathe?

  "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I really didn't!" Number 78 grabs her throat, trying to breathe.

  Take her back. She didn't mean to kill—let her come home. She doesn't want to go back. But, it was her home. Even though it hurts. The pain—she doesn't—where does she go? Where will she go?

  Something warm grabs her hand scratching at her throat. She flinches back, eyes squeezed shut.

  "—kay. You're safe. Can you hear me?" A gentle voice speaks quietly.

  "A leech like you doesn't deserve kindness."

  Number 78 heaves. Someone is choking her. That's why she can't breathe. That has to be the reason.

  "Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand, dear," The gentle voice speaks again before the warmth covering her hand moves. She grabs it with both hands before it could try and leave, whining through her tears.

  Warmth. It's so rare for her to feel it. The rare days she can hide in the library, curled up inside a bookshelf with a single stream of sunlight pouring in. The rare days she wasn't in the basement when they had the front doors opened—she wasn't allowed outside, but the warmth from the breeze...

  "Open your eyes. Can you do that for me? I need you to open your eyes, dear." Number 78 follows the order and stares down at her hands. A larger hand held them in a gentle grip. Not squeezing until her hands turned white, or pinching until her skin bruised. Just... gentle.

  "Good. You're doing good, dear. Now... I'm going to raise your hand, okay?" The praise makes a warmth light up inside Number 78. She whines again and more tears fall.

  Why is she being praised? She's being bad! She's—she's crying! She should be punished! Not—not—

  The large hand slowly lifts the one squeezing it like a lifeline. Her eyes watch the movement as the back of her hand is pressed against a soft white shirt. She feels the chest beneath it move.

  "Do you feel my breathing? Can you follow it for me?" Number 78 glances up, eyes wide and vision covered in black spots. Violet, like a dying purple flower, stares back at her.

  The man she ran into—the man who saved her—sucks in a deep, long breath through his mouth. Number 78 copies it—or tries to. The breath sputters out and rushes back in, almost as if no air was entering her lungs at all.

  She looks down, sobbing even louder. She can't do it. She can't do it! Something's stopping her from breathing! She can't—

  "It's okay. It's okay, dear. Try again, okay? Just try to keep copying me until it works," The man speaks gently, pressing Number 78's hand more against his chest. "Okay... Deep breath in."

  Number 78 tries again, but it sputters out. The man breathes out before breathing back in. She tries to copy it, and it stays in her lungs for a second before she hiccups. The man breathes out and breathes in.

  She takes a deep breath and holds it until the man breathes out and it escapes her lungs in many gasps. She tries to take another deep breath quickly, but the man gently shushes her as it comes out in a rush.

  "Follow me. Follow my breathing, dear. Deep breath in..."

  Number 78 breathes in deeply. She holds it until the man breathes out. He breathes in again and she follows.

  The tears are still falling and the hiccups won't stop, but the black spots leave her vision. Her throat isn't being choked anymore and air is getting into her lungs. She feels the warmth from the man's hand sink into her own. The sunlight makes her eyes burn, but she can see the colors of the room again.

  The man releases one last breath before he lowers their hands. "See? You can breathe on your own again, dear."

  "What—" Number 78 chokes on air and quickly turns her head when the coughing starts. It sounds wet to her ears, and she feels something splatter on her hand. Another warmth rests on her back and she bolts off the bed.

  She screams and falls right on her face, her nose popping. She wiggles around before turning onto her back, staring up with wide eyes. The woman—Poe-san had her hand outstretched, the other holding a glass of water. Her eyes were wide and filled with... sadness? Shock?

  "Are you okay, dear?" The man asks gently, still sitting on the bed. Number 78 flinches back when he moves a hand, but watches as he simply lowers it to her. She blinks as she stares at it before looking back up at him. They both stay silent for a long minute, just staring at each other.

  The raccoon pops his head up over the edge of the bed. "He wants to help you up."

  "W-why?" Number 78 asks, curious and terrified. To throw her into a wall? To pull her and bring her down to the basement?

  "You fell, of course!" The raccoon states as if it was obvious. Number 78 blinks slowly, staring at the raccoon for a moment before glancing back at the man. The hand was still outstretched.

  She shuffles onto her knees, making sure to keep the hand in her line of sight. Her hand shakes as she slowly reaches up for the one outstretched. She flinches when her hand touches the warmth, clenching her eyes shut.

  The warm hand only gently curls around her smaller one and carefully pulls it towards the bed. Number 78 puts one foot below her and slowly stands up, looking back up at the man with wide eyes.

  "Have you been shown no kindness at all?" The man speaks in the language Number 78 doesn't understand—is it English? Is this what English sounds like—before he sighs heavily and releases her hand.

  "Who—where—" Number 78 cuts herself off with a flinch and averts her gaze to the ground.

  Stupid! Questions are bad. She's not allowed to ask questions.

  "Forgive me. I am Poe Edgar Allan. This is my younger sister, Poe Rosalie Mackenzie. What's your name?" The man asks softly. Number 78 glances up at him through her matted bangs before looking back down at her shaking hands.

  "...Number 78... Poe-san." Number 78 straightens her posture and gives a bow like she was taught, painfully so. "It's nice to meet you."

  "Number... 78? Like... the number?" The man's voice turns cold and Number 78 flinches back. She's thankful her hair has fallen over her face while she bows.

  "Y-y-yes... Th-the orphanage says—I didn't... I didn't have a name... so... th-they..." Her tongue gets tied and she can't finish her sentence. She flinches again and bows deeper when the man takes in a deep breath.

  "Work, voice! He's mad! He's going to punish me, so work!" Number 78 shouts at her throat, hoping it would scare her voice back out. She always gets punished when her voice suddenly stops. She can't—she can't help it! Sometimes... sometimes it just doesn't want to work!

  "Edgar... She's terrified... calm down," The other Poe-san, speaks quietly in English. There's a heavy sigh and Number 78 tenses her body before—

  A warm hand is softly placed on top of her head. Number 78 stares down at the ground with wide eyes, frozen still.

  "Number—Number 78... I'm not angry with you. I promise. Children—children aren't supposed to have numbers for names, dear," Poe-san says gently. Number 78 closes her eyes and presses her head up into the hand. A small breath leaves her mouth as her chest almost feels like it will burst from the warmth.

  "But—I-I'm... not..." human.

  The hand on her head twitches before it simply brushes through her matted hair. "You are a child, dear. You are human."

  Number 78 shrinks in on herself, glancing off to the side. She picks at the skin around her fingernails.

  "One step at a time..." Poe-san sighs again and lifts his hand from her head. He lowers it to lift Number 78's chin, making her flinch.

  "You slept through the night. Would you like to eat?" Poe-san asks with a gentle smile on his face. Number 78 blinks slowly before glancing towards the tray the other Poe-san brought.

  "...I can eat?" Number 78 asks without prompt before she slaps a hand over her mouth.

  Her eyes widen and she shrinks in on herself. "S-sorry! I apologize for speaking—speaking o-out of turn! I—"

  "Yes. Yes, you can eat. There will never be a time where you aren't allowed to eat," Poe-san says calmly.

  Number 78 stares at the man with wide eyes. She snaps her eyes down to her feet when her face starts to burn.

  She can eat... whenever? That's...

  Number 78 shakes her head, tugging harshly at a strand of her hair. No... no. It isn't allowed.

  "He will be mad..." Number 78 tugs at her hair, almost ripping it out of her scalp as the terror runs through her like a knife.

  No... she's not allowed to eat. She'll be punished severely when they find out. She won't eat.

  "...how about a shower, then?" Poe-san speaks again, startling Number 78 so badly, her neck cracks when she snaps her head up.

  Poe-san was smiling gently, though his eyes looked... sad. "You'll feel better once you wash all of that dirt out of your hair."

  Number 78 blinks. Her eyebrows furrow before she tilts her head, glancing over at the other Poe-san and the raccoon.

  "What... What's a... shower?"

\\\

    The sun shone high in the sky. The breeze was gentle, but full of the warmth of early summer.

  The child stood outside, just watching her toes wiggle in the grass and the dirt. Her scarred and shaking clean hands, clean of dirt and blood, grasped around the fabric of the oversized dress she was given.

  Her horribly chopped hair, not brown like it appeared, nor light blonde—not even silver like Auguste had mused—glowed the purest of white beneath the sunlight with thin streaks of black running down like tiger stripes.

  Her sunset eyes were bright with wonder and awe, like she had never been outside in her life. Her skin was still way too pale, and she was still gaunt with emaciation, but the terror and distrust was slowly leaving her frame.

  It's been a week since the child ran into Edgar. And the difference... was astonishing as it was horrific.

  Edgar watches from the second-floor balcony of his study as Rosie walks out into the yawning lawn, a tray of sandwiches and sweet tea in her hands. His hand curls over the metal railing while anger simmers deep in his heart when the child whirls around with a heavy flinch.

  What despicable people. Everyone from that hellish orphanage should be glad the child doesn't recall the name of it. Edgar will create a story, worse than Hell itself, just for them.

  The child still calls herself Number 78, for God's sake. And she doesn't believe herself to be human.

  It's been a long time since Edgar wished someone dead, but he hopes the headmaster who tormented this poor girl dies a slow and painful death.

  As for whoever traumatized the child so badly, she wakes up wailing and vomiting despite the gaps in her memory...

  Edgar shakes his head with a heavy sigh and turns around to walk back into his study.

  Books were haphazardly placed in precarious towers on his desk, papers littering the rest of what little space remained. Edgar rubs his forehead as he stares at the absolute mess.

  He memorized the hiragana and katakana of the Japanese language until he could decipher a sentence with only a glance. He wrote down every kanji, over and over again, until his penmanship was just as beautiful as his writing in English.

  Unfortunately, he still has yet to figure out a fitting name for the girl.

  "Though, I narrowed it down compared to the English names," Edgar thinks, glaring at the pile of books on the floor next to his desk.

  Though, the only good name that would fit the child from the western names was...

  A loud chirp is heard and Edgar pushes his thoughts out of his mind as a weight grabs onto his leg and climbs up. He looks down and watches Karl easily climb up to his shoulder.

  "I thought you would have gone out with Rosie to play with the child," Edgar says, making Karl look at him as if he was stupid. The young man just raises an eyebrow.

  Karl hisses before he points over at the desk. Edgar just shakes his head with a stifled smile. He walks over to the desk and stares at the paper placed right in the middle.

暖美

淳幸

敦貴

  "...Atsumi. Atsuko. Atsuki..." Edgar mutters, tracing the kanji he carefully wrote. Warm beauty; pure happiness; kind precious.

  It took him four days to finally narrow it down to these three.

  Edgar glances back down at the pile next to his desk. The paper of the western names he wrote down sat on top.

  Maria. Virginia. Diana. Saoirse. Aoife... and... Eliza.

  Beloved; maiden; the Roman goddess of the moon; freedom; beauty... God is my promise.

  Edgar sighs and brushes back his bangs for only a moment. It'd be its own form of torture to just hand the books off to the girl and let her choose. He's managed to find a few books in Japanese, and she can read them quite well, but he hasn't gotten to the English books yet. Though, she's picked up on learning the verbal language quite fast.

  Still, it doesn't feel right to choose a name for her. It's her name; she should choose it for herself.

  Karl chitters and jumps off of Edgar's shoulder and lands on the desk. Edgar watches the raccoon grab the paper of Japanese names before running across the desk and jumping down to the floor to grab the western names.

  Karl bolts towards the open balcony and Edgar hisses out a curse as he reaches out to grab the animal. "Don't—you little brat!"

  He misses and Karl runs out onto the balcony before climbing over the railing. Edgar growls before he runs out of his study. He takes large steps and easily reaches the stairs, almost completely tripping as he takes two steps at a time.

  "Karl! Don't you dare!" Edgar shouts loudly, reaching the kitchen and barging out onto the terrace.

  Three pairs of eyes looked over. Black gleamed with smug mischief. Pale violet were full of mirth. Sunset wide-eyed and somewhat scared.

  The child had both of the papers in her hands while Karl sat on her knee and Rosie was kneeling to her right to read the names.

  Edgar can feel his ears start to burn. He swallows and tilts his head down, making his bangs hide both of his eyes.

  "Eddie, what's this?" Rosie asks, laughter filling her voice.

  "...working on something..." Edgar mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. "f-for... the girl..."

  Rosie tilts her head back with a bubbling laugh. Edgar's face starts to burn now.

  "F-for me?" The child asks, eyes wide and shining with curiosity. Her shoulders curl in on themselves and she flinches, expecting a hit.

  Neither Edgar nor Rosie mention it as they look at each other. Rosie has a bright, beaming grin stretched across her face. Her sickness, for once in a very long time, doesn't appear in her expression as she realizes what exactly her older brother was working on.

  "...it's... it's about time... for you to have a name..." Edgar pushes past his sudden awkwardness. The child blinks before she looks down at Karl when he chatters happily up at her. A frown grows on her face before she looks back up.

  She opens her mouth before suddenly flinching again, snapping it shut. She hugs the papers to herself as she stares down at her bare feet.

  Edgar smiles gently at the sad sight before he walks closer. He kneels to one knee so he can be at a closer height to the girl.

  "What's on your mind, dear?" He asks softly, making the girl's pallid face explode into a rosy pink. It was the cutest sight when the girl finally learned what 'dear' was in English.

He idly wonders if she would get along well with Harper. Maybe he should bring the child over. Children should play with other children after all.

  She picks at the skin around her nails—a habit Edgar hopes to break soon—before she holds out the papers. "I-I already have a—a name..."

  "Children are not named numbers like they are cattle, dear," Edgar declares as gently as he can, placing a hand on the girl's head. "You are not cattle. You are a human child who deserves a human name."

  The girl shrinks in on herself, yet pushes up into Edgar's hand like a cat—and like her ability. Her face becomes a shade of cherry before her eyes open and she reads the names on the papers.

  "Those are some pretty names," Rosie comments, her voice somewhat hoarse as she gets to the last name with the western names. She looks up, her eyes red-rimmed and wet, a soft smile on her face.

  Edgar swallows back the burning in his throat before clearing it. "You can choose whichever one you like, dear. And if none are to your liking, I have all of the books I found them in, up in my office."

  "I-I can choose?" The girl asks, snapping her head up with stars filling her eyes.

  "It shouldn't be surprising that she would get so excited over choosing something for herself..." Edgar sighs quietly, but keeps his smile up. His eyes stare at the Lichtenberg figures spread across the entire child's head and forehead.

  She's probably never been given a single, genuine choice in her life. And she's eleven years old.

  "Yes. It's going to be your name, after all," Edgar answers warmly, making a beaming smile form on the girl's face.

  Edgar stares at the child with wide eyes, completely awed. His heart is bursting and his chest feels funny.

  Another light... to brighten his life of darkness and despair.

  Karl perks up before screeching loudly, making everyone jump. Edgar faintly hears the ding-dong of the doorbell ring, and sighs heavily. Ugh. People...

  "...who went past the gate without permission..." Edgar's eyes narrow at the thought before he turns to stare at the house. He sighs again and faces the two ladies, and raccoon, looking up at him.

  "Take your time with choosing, dear," Edgar says with a smile before he fully turns around and walks towards the house. His smile disappears as he tries to think of anyone he knows who would just walk right past the gate.

  They didn't have any ill will towards any of them; Rosie's ability would have stopped them in their tracks way before they even reached the gate.

  Auguste tends to text him before he enters the house, completely bypassing the gate—and Auguste's partner always turns on the intercom thrice before he enters. Little Harper knows she can always come when she wishes to get out of the barracks, but she has yet to do so. The police absolutely refuse to go to Edgar's house, only calling him in when they need help.

  ...the only people who would pass by the gate without permission, and who aren't a dear friend... they would have to be someone from the Army. But—Edgar put in three weeks of paid leave to help the child get settled and deal with the new trafficking case he started.

  Edgar frowns as he reaches the front door, letting the doorbell ring again. He waits a few more seconds before opening the door.

  "Good afternoon, Sergeant Major!" Two men stood at attention, completely stone faced.

  Of course, it's the Army. And they're two staff sergeants. Which means it might possibly be important. Hopefully, it isn't a prepared speech about them sending Harper out for a mission with his permission, again.

  Edgar gives a nod. "At ease. What can I do for you two?"

  "Haha! The man's on leave, gentlemen! There's no need to be so stiff." Edgar tenses at the amused voice, already straightening his own posture when the captain walks up from behind the two staff sergeants.

  "Captain Howard," Edgar greets with a salute.

  "At ease, Poe. We aren't here on official business," Captain Howard says with an easygoing smile. Edgar's instincts go on edge at the attempt to disarm him.

  "I thought you were out in Virginia." Edgar glances at the two staff sergeants before focusing back on the officer.

  Captain Howard nods with a small chuckle. "Lieutenant Colonel Perry called me back for this... venture."

  So, it was important. "I can't wait to get out of this hell."

  "What does Lieutenant Colonel Perry want from me?"

  Edgar refrains from glancing over his shoulder, towards the back of the house. Rosie will keep the child distracted and away from the foyer.

  "He heard about your new case—about the child you saved from ability traffickers," Captain Howard says, and everything pauses.

  The war was just beginning. He was all, but shoved into the ranks of the Army. He didn't have a choice. Mr. Allan told them about his ability.

  "We would like to meet—"

  "No."

  Blood. Smoke. Explosions. He killed so many. He wasn't just a kid. He was cannon fodder—

  Edgar breathes in deeply before he forces his smile to appear apologetic. "The child is... not ready to meet people outside of me and my sister. I'm sorry, but you'll have to wait another time."

  "Over my rotting corpse. You'll never meet her, if I can help it." The thought goes unsaid, but the pinched expression on Captain Howard's face tells Edgar he hears the message clearly.

  "Of course. Is she adjusting well? I understand she's not originally from America." Captain Howard smiles, though his eyes were cold like ice.

  "As well as she can be," Edgar answers shortly. He tenses when he hears the floorboards creak behind him.

  "Eddie! We've found a name!" Rosie's voice is bright with excitement.

  "P-Poe-san? Dai—daijōbu desu ka?" The child asks quietly, her voice trembling with fear.

  If Edgar wasn't focused on watching the sudden eagerness flickering across Captain Howard's face, he would have cheered. The child prompted a question without waiting for permission, a second time.

  Edgar steps to the right, blocking more of the view inside his home.

  "I've got to go, Captain Howard. We'll have to discuss this another time," He says with the an awkward smile.

  Captain Howard's face twitches before he smiles back. "I'll be waiting for the call then, Poe. Good day."

  "Good day." Edgar stops himself from slamming the door in the men's faces, closing it normally instead. He releases a heavy sigh, the tension in his shoulders slipping away like water off a duck's back.

  "The media likely heckled the doctors enough to get the information out of them," Edgar thinks with a scowl. He's usually pretty out of touch with current news, but he hasn't even given his phone a glance this entire week.

  It's a good thing he hadn't mentioned the tiger to the doctor. Only the regeneration...

  "If Lieutenant Colonel Perry finds out..." Edgar's skin crawls at the horrific thought.

He was the only one who looked horrified. Everyone else was practically salivating at the mouth at the terrible thing they just forced the child to do.

"Wh-what... what did I do...?" She looks up at him, lost and terrified. The blood covered the floor and the mockingbird swoops around before landing on her shoulder.

She screams and flinches away. So young. Just like him—

  America would be salivating at the mouth for a new war deterrent after he managed to take their previous one out of their claws.

  "M-Mister Poe...?" The child speaks up again, much more quiet than before. Edgar takes a deep breath and turns around, smiling gently.

  "Apologies. I was merely lost in thought, dear." Edgar spots the wet eyes of his sister and the pure joy in her smile. "So, you found a name?"

  The child's fear is forgotten at the reminder. Her face brightens and her eyes glitter as she runs forward with the papers still clasped in her hands.

  "I-I want—if y-you'll... if you'll allow it... I-I want two..." The girl's joy slowly dies off and the fear comes back, but she doesn't avert her gaze, nor does she flinch when Rosie gently places her hands on her shoulders.

  Edgar blinks. Two names?

  "How wonderful!" Edgar exclaims before he crouches down. "Which ones did you choose?"

  The beaming smile on the girl's face makes Edgar's heart feel full. She holds out the papers, showing the names to the young man.

\\\

    The streets are buzzing with activity, filled to the brim with the usual crowds. The sky is clear of all clouds and the sun is shining high in the sky.

  It is a bright day; it is an exciting day. For two people, it is a day of witnessing a thrilling conclusion to a triumphant competition.

  A young woman, only 21 years old, walks with graceful and ghostly steps, walking through the crowds as if she was a spectre herself. Her tiered sleeves fell over the black lace gloves covering her hands, matching with the black jabot pinned to the high neckline of her blouse with a turquoise stone pendant. The hem of the midnight blue skirt nearly hid the boots beneath completely, appearing like it was caressing the ground.

  Her raven hair was pulled tight into a braided crown, a turquoise ribbon entwined within. Her pale violet eyes were lovely and bright despite her gaunt face appearing so sickly.

  Rosalie glances down at the young child walking next to her, hand in hand. She smiles softly as the 12 year old beams up at her.

  The girl had her hair, no longer choppy like the year before, brushed and styled into a partial updo tied back by a lilac ribbon. The pure white color, with streaks of black scattered around, drew the eyes of many, all ignored. Her eyes were glittering in her excitement, colored like the waking dawn on a clear morning.

  She wore a black ruffled dress with bishop sleeves, showing off the lilac compression gloves she wore over her scarred hands. Her lilac Mary Jane's matched with the lilac ribbon tied around her waist and into a large bow in the back.

  The raccoon sitting on her shoulder chatters excitedly, making the young girl nod her head rapidly. "I know! I'm so excited to see Dad beat them all! Auntie Ro, do you think Dad will win?"

  "Of course!" Rosalie laughs brightly. "I've yet to see anyone come close to his investigation skills! Though, this would be the perfect competition for it to finally happen."

  The young girl hums in acknowledgement, her beaming smile not dimming in the slightest at the possibility. It probably won't happen—not even Mister Auguste is as skilled as her father at deduction skills—but on the off-chance it did happen, her father is still the best detective.

  He's a writer. Of course he'd be the best. And, he promised.

  "We're almost there!" Karl nearly screeches the girl's ear off, but she was all too used to it now. The young girl perks up and releases her hold on Rosalie's hand, about to sprint towards the alley currently being used for the competition.

  "Atsuki!" Rosalie scolds, her hand already grabbing the collar of the 12 year old's dress. "The competition might not be finished yet!"

  Atsuki growls quietly, trying to pull her collar out of Rosalie's hold, but the usually sickly woman just pulls her back and wraps an arm around her waist, hoisting her up. Atsuki squeals in surprise and delight before she looks up at her aunt with wide eyes.

  Rosalie smiles triumphantly, not a single pause in her graceful steps. "We can't let Eddie get distracted at the eve of victory, can we, little cub?"

  Atsuki giggles brightly when the young woman tickles her sides. She futilely tries to wiggle out of the secure hold for a few seconds before Rosalie pities her and places her back onto her own feet.

  "Keep holding my hand, Atsuki. The crowds might sweep you away," She teases, her gloved hand gently grabbing Atsuki's trembling one.

  "Okay!" Atsuki states cheerfully, baby fangs peeking out from behind her lips. Rosalie's smile grows warm at the sight of the young child, bright and happy.

  It's been a year since Edgar and Atsuki ran into each other. It's been a year since Atsuki chose her own name. It's been ten months since Edgar finally had the self-realization that he was being a parent to Atsuki. It's been nine months since Edgar finished the paperwork and adopted Atsuki as his daughter, legally.

  Rosalie looks up at the sound of a loud laugh. She slows to a stop as she watches a young man walk out of the alley where the competition was meant to take place. His hands were behind his head and a sucker stick stuck out of his grinning mouth.

  "This was way too easy. It almost wasn't worth coming if it weren't for him," The man speaks to himself, pouting with his eyes closed.

  Rosalie and Atsuki glance at each other at the Japanese. Someone from Japan came all the way for the competition?

  Atsuki releases her aunt's hand, the young woman letting her go, and runs into the alley. She stops when she sees her father on his hands and knees, staring ahead.

  Karl whines and jumps off of her shoulder, skittering over to Edgar. He waves his hands in front of Edgar's face, but he doesn't notice.

  Atsuki grabs her sleeve at Edgar's expression. His eye was dull and dark, hopeless distraught marring his face. Atsuki frowns and steps closer to the young man.

  "...Dad?" She calls out, quiet and somewhat scared. She's never seen... such utter defeat on her father's face before. Even when he couldn't find the leaders of the trafficking ring that attempted to traffic Atsuki before she escaped, he wasn't this defeated.

  "...lost... how could I...?" Edgar murmurs, so lost his despair, he doesn't hear his daughter.

  "Dad?"

  Atsuki bites her lip and glances back behind her. That man... the one who spoke Japanese... he beat her father.

  Karl chitters and jumps up to sit on Edgar's shoulder. Atsuki straightens her posture as she faces forward and brushes down the front of her dress, crouching down to be at a level height to her father.

  "Okay... I'll wait for you to come back," Atsuki says softly. "Just like you do for me."

  It's all she could do. She doesn't know if she can bring her Dad back right now. Not when he's never lost before.

\\\

    Nothing. There was nothing.

  There was no ground to stand on; there was no air to breathe. There was no sunshine to warm up the bones hidden beneath constantly decaying flesh.

  There was no noise of the usual kind this deep in the city; no crowds running around like headless chickens and screaming like banshees. There was no bright laughter of a rose, or the precious joy of kindness.

  There was nothing. No triumphant victory. No pride of proof. No evidence of claim.

  He was nothing. He was a failure. He had to be. He lost.

  He lost and he broke his promise.

  He broke his promise. How will Atsuki and Rosie bear to even look at him?

  He's a horrible, horrible man. Lying to them, claiming he's the best detective. How much more disgusting can he be?

  "Karl. Do you have any threes?"

  It wasn't much. It was still too silent for New York City, even though on any other day, Edgar would have appreciated it. But, there was noise.

  There's a muffled chattering sound, so close to sounding like Karl.

  "Really? You aren't lying to me, are you?" There's some type of rustling fabric. "Alright then. And no. I don't have any jacks."

Karl screeches something unholy, likely a cussword. Edgar blinks and suddenly, his hands are shown in front of him. They held him up from faceplanting against the disgusting wet cement of the alley.

"Atsuki, do you have any sevens?" Rosie's voice is next to cut through the silence. Following her, Edgar can faintly hear the noise of New York City coming back.

"You had the other seven?" Atsuki whines, making Rosie laugh lightly. Edgar blinks again and slowly looks up, sitting back on his legs.

"Auntie Ro, do you have any queens?"

"Only the one. Clever cub," Rosie states with a smile as she hands her queen card over to the 12 year old child. She perks up and takes the card before grabbing her other three queens and setting them in front of her.

Karl chitters while looking over at Rosie. He holds up five fingers.

"Nope. No fives here, Karl." Rosie takes the time to look up, only to startle at the sight of an aware Edgar. "Eddie! You're back with us!"

"Dad!" Atsuki shouts, scrambling up from her spot on the alley to leap into her father. Edgar numbly brings his arms up, loosely wrapping them around the child as he stares blankly at the pile of cards in front of him.

"...you're playing... Go Fish?" Edgar mutters, quiet and monotonous.

Atsuki pulls back from her hug, staring into Edgar's revealed eye for a moment. She smiles wide, a bit forced, as she nods her head.

"We were waiting for you to come back," She states brightly.

Edgar's eye turns dark and he looks away, shame burning at his throat. "You shouldn't have waited... I failed. I broke our promise."

He's despicable. How can he ever face Atsuki again? Or Rosie?

All of his boasts—his hard work into what he loves and what he does best... he's a fraud.

"You will never amount to anything. You'll always be a fraud. Just like your father." The words cut deep, but they weren't any less true. Mr. Allan was right all along... may he burn in Hell.

Small shaking hands grab his face before forcing him to look forward. "It's just a silly competition, Dad. I'm sure you tried your best and I know you gave the winner a good fight!"

"But, my best... it wasn't good enough. How can I be so stupid to not realize I was never good to begin with?" Edgar looks down in shame, his hands balling into fists on his lap.

Rosie sighs as she and Atsuki glance at each other. Atsuki frowns, letting go of her father's face.

"He solved it... in mere seconds. He just glanced at it before smiling like that and solved the entire thing. I hadn't even picked apart the first clue and was rambling on about the victim's stupid fashion choice was what killed them and he..." Edgar trails off, desperately looking back at the entire situation.

What could he have done differently? He must have faltered somewhere. He's such a failure... and everyone else just gawked and laughed.

Would he have rather gone along with the ignorance of his arrogant claim and never participated in this competition? Or is it better he learn this now?

There is one year left on his contract with the Army. Edgar was going to devote his time to his detective work; make it a part-time living for himself as he put more focus on his novels.

"That's what makes you the best detective." Edgar blinks and looks up with wide eyes. Atsuki stares at him with determination burning in her eyes and a frown set upon her face.

"He picked at the death, and solved what happened. You were looking at how it happened, Dad. That's the most important thing. You were looking for evidence. He just solved a murder," Atsuki continues before she smiles.

"Anyone can solve a murder. But, you can see the cause and effect. If that doesn't make a good detective, then I don't know what does."

The noise all falls to silence once more. It was just him again, lost in the fog of his despair. And it was his daughter—this time—Atsuki Eliza Poe, who lights his way back to the living and the reality of the universe.

"You... you are right..." Edgar swallows and slowly stands up. He places a hand over his heart, taking a deep, stuttering breath.

"But... but this just proves to me, I must get better. This man—Ranpo Edogawa... he cannot get the best of me. I will beat him and I will show you the evidence and prove that I, Edgar Allan Poe, am the best detective."

Atsuki blinks before she opens her mouth. "Um—that's not what I mean—"

"I will show him! I will show him how his arrogance, with that stupid smile of his, will be his downfall!" Edgar continues, clenching his fist in front of him.

Atsuki looks back at stares at Rosie with pleading eyes. Rosie just covers her mouth, trying to hide her laughter.

"He is my enemy! No! My rival! And I will show him what it means to snub me!"

"I don't think he was snubbing you—"

"Yes! I will become the greatest detective! For you, daughter. And for my sister! I swear!" Edgar finishes his declaration, Karl cheering loudly in celebration.

"I suppose we should have expected this," Rosie whispers to Atsuki, making the young girl blink.

"Expected?" She asks, confused by this entire turn of events.

"Eddie's never lost anything before. Nothing as important as this. My dear brother would have always reacted one of two ways. Depressed and hopeless, or..."

"Or what?" Atsuki asks, more curious than confused.

"I think you're father..." Rosie giggles quietly, a bright smile growing on her face "...developed a bit of a fascination for this Mister Edogawa. Almost like a crush."

"A crush...?" Atsuki tilts her head before her eyes become starry. Like the old romance novels she used to read back at the bad orphanage?!

"Similar to one, yes," Rosie corrects softly, but Atsuki doesn't hear it.

Her father has a crush on someone! She'll get another Dad! But—

"He's heading back to Japan... how will they meet?" Atsuki frowns at the thought, glancing over at her father, still ranting about some of the ideas he can do to win against this Ranpo Edogawa. Maybe it's like Orihime and Hikoboshi... star-crossed lovers.

"Dad might never meet him again..." Atsuki clenches her fists at the thought before she shakes her head.

She'll make sure they meet again. They're star-crossed lovers! She has to make sure they meet again!

"I can get Harper to help me! Yes!" Atsuki smiles brightly as the beginning of a soon-to-be years-long plan starts to form.

"Atsuki?" Rosie prods Atsuki, somewhat about the child's distracted and determined expression. She sighs quietly as she glances back up at her brother.

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it Karl?" Rosie says with a small smile. The raccoon shakes his head, also glancing between the father and daughter duo.

"It's going to be an interesting mystery to watch," Rosie thinks, chuckling softly to herself.

\\\

A vast expanse of clouds shrouded the late afternoon light. It brought an eerie grey to an already monochrome expanse of land.

Squared up groups marched or jogged along the outer edges. People in equal amounts of Dress Blues and fatigues, walked among the center, in-between buildings and amongst each other.

Sunset-colored eyes watched it all from the backseat of the unmarked car window. Scarred fingers beneath black compression gloves picked at the skin around the fingernails.

Atsuki was 15 years old now, but it wasn't any less scary when she was on base. It was a risky game she was forced to play any time she came.

There's a small sigh to her left before a cold hand covers her trembling ones. Atsuki breaks away from the scenery and stares at the woman sitting next to her.

Rosie smiles warmly, but her eyes are cold, waiting for something to happen. Atsuki smiles back, silent and reassuring.

She didn't need to get out of the car this time. They have to leave for the airport soon, so it was only a visit.

The car slows to a stop in front of one of the many standard buildings and Atsuki looks back out of the window. Her shoulders relax when she sees a familiar mess of dark brown curls pulled back into a ponytail.

A grin grows on her face when she sees a cropped head of black hair with a bright iridescent sheen to it and coal black eyes staring blankly up at a man Atsuki wishes she never met. Atsuki rolls down the window and pops half of her body out of it.

"Atsuki!" Rosie scolds with a laughing tone, half-heartedly tugging at the teenager's shirt.

"HARPER!!" She shouts loudly with a wave. The young girl, jumps slightly before turning towards the car. Her blank expression stays stuck to her face for only a few more seconds before her eyes start to shine and a small smile grows on her face.

Edgar smiles softly from where he stood and turns to Harper, waving her towards the car while saying something. The other man sneers before he goes back to his blank expression when Harper turns to him, equally blank-faced, and gives him a salute.

The man waves away the girl carelessly and she lowers the salute before completing an about face. She starts marching towards the car, and Atsuki watches her father step in front of Harper's receding back.

Her stomach plummets, but she takes a deep breath, calming her nerves. Ever since he completed his five year contract, her father refuses to enter any military base without a book on his person. He'll be okay.

When Harper gets closer to the car, Atsuki leans even further out of the car. "Miss Harper Lee! Have you grown taller since I last saw you?"

Harper Lee, a prodigious "cadet" of West Point Atsuki immediately claimed as her little sister when she met her and Edgar's ward when he was still a Sergeant Major, smiles brightly now that she isn't in view of Lieutenant Colonel Perry. She sprints the rest of the way to the car and jumps up, wrapping her arms around Atsuki's neck.

"Sissy!" Harper squeals in delight as Atsuki wraps an arm around the young girl.

"Good afternoon, Harper," Rosie greets from her seat. "Are you excited?"

"Good evenin', Auntie Ro!" Harper exclaims, dropping back to the ground. Atsuki goes back into the car, opening the door for the 12 year old.

Harper scrambles in, already tugging off her fatigue jacket as she closes the door behind her. "'course I'm excited! It's Pa's tour 'n Europe!"

"How has Mr. Card been treating you? Are you doing well? Has Lieutenant Colonel Asshat tried anything?" Atsuki lists off, her smile disappearing.

"Atsuki Eliza!" Rosie scolds with a flick against Atsuki's forehead. She leans in closer as the 15 year old rubs her forehead. "But, are you faring well for yourself? I haven't felt my ability fall. I suppose everything is going well for you?"

Harper's face turns cherry red at the worry and the attention she was getting before she nods her head. "'m doin' fine! Mr. Card's still bein' a drunk asshole, but he don't let anyone try nothin' with me."

Atsuki smiles brightly and leans closer, glancing over at the chauffeur the military had "generously" given them. "Now, Dad told me you're only allowed four days of leave, and then you'll be back here while we finish the rest of the tour."

Rosie leans in as well, hiding her mouth from the chauffeur obviously planted to spy on them. "Of course, it'd be a downright shame if your phone somehow ends up lost on the way to the airport, so we won't be able to figure out when we have to bring you back."

Harper giggles quietly before she covers her mouth, her eyes bright with excitement. Atsuki leans back as the passenger door opens and Edgar gets in.

"The tour's going to last all month. We're hitting all of the major cities in Europe. And we're staying a bit longer in France since there's so many of Dad's fans there. You'll be coming back before then, after we finish up our Spain tour in Madrid," Atsuki says in a normal tone, making Edgar smile before he hides it with a cough. Karl crawls off of his shoulder and jumps into the back seat, making Harper and Atsuki squeal.

"Now that everyone is accounted for, let us make our way to the airport. I wouldn't want anyone to take our first class seats," Edgar states, making Rosie roll her eyes while Atsuki and Harper giggle.

"Dad, you own the plane."

Edgar tilts his head as if in thought, smiling brightly. "Hm. Yes, I suppose I do."

"I can't wait for yer tour 'n Asia!" Harper squeals, making Edgar tense. His smile grows wide as his fingers twitch.

"Yes... I can't wait either... but it will be a bit..." Edgar mutters darkly, chuckling to himself. It soon turns into a maniacal laugh, his eyes appearing crazed.

Harper leans into Atsuki and taps morse code onto her arm. "Later. Plan RanPoe?"

Atsuki grins widely, just as creepy as her father's as she taps her answers. "Later. News."

Harper and Atsuki devolve into giggles, making Rosie smile softly. The mystery is still as entertaining as ever, even after three years.