Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Killing the engine, Fenrich swung one leg over to lean back against the side of his motorbike. Binoculars raised, he tried picking through the crowd of kids beyond the distant chain-link fence, letting out a small ‘tch’.

Every kid had some stupid, blue and white penguin-like cap on their head and most a similarly-themed hoodie, enough to making picking out his target an impossible task. And here the kid’s green hair ought to have been the easiest damn giveaway possible.

One kid’s hat and jacket were green compared to the rest, but with all the kids moving through some kind of self-defence drills there was too much motion blur to pick out any of their other details at this distance.

Tossing the cheap, stolen binoculars to the road, he flicked the ignition back on and roared away for now.

~DOOD~

The area, like most around this part of the city, was thankfully dilapidated.

Across from the group rehabilitation home’s large, fenced yard was an abandoned apartment building, only a couple of floors and easy enough to break into once night had fallen.

Squatting there the next day on an empty Rosen Queen Co. supply box as a chair, stale taiyaki to eat, Fenrich watched a typical day’s activities go by: The kids got up with the sun, cooking breakfast and hanging out laundry. Then followed some boringly long lessons all morning before everyone made their own lunch to eat, most outside at one big table. More lessons after, enough to bore Fenrich this time let alone the poor kids, until mid-afternoon when they were taken outside to learn self-defence techniques that would scare an army cadet on the stone-flagged yard. Back inside for the evening, each kid got their own food when they wanted and seemed to be having free time finally, before they were all to bed healthily early. Tedious, but helpfully simple.

The following day Fenrich watched them go through the same routine again, finally making his move when they went back inside for the evening.

Lingering beside the chain-link fence in the amber sunlight and hazy air of the city, bike ready nearby for the getaway, he watched the kids mill about in the building’s lit kitchen and main room. There were still too many in both right now, no one having gone up to their rooms or to use the bathrooms. Many seemed to gladly be taking the opportunity to slack after the day’s hard lessons.

Fenrich began looking around the length of the fence, not fancying what a tangle with the spikes along the top would do to his leather jacket or trousers. The whole stretch was solid though, the only way in the gate right by the building’s main door.

Once he could get close enough to the windows by some means he could pick out the target kid and simply wait till they were alone. Getting in and out would be easy, even if they tried to resist.

The instructor who ran the place though, still passing between the kitchen and main room fussing after the kids, he wouldn’t be alone until everyone went to bed that night if yesterday’s routine held true again. That made the second part difficult; killing him while any of the kids were around would run too great a risk of them having details to give to the police.

Perhaps if he could wait till night, do the break in and assassination without waking anyone, then grab the kid he needed and get out of there...

Fenrich took a walk along the fence, trying to scout out the upper floor’s layout as lights flicked on and off. There didn’t look enough rooms to be one per kid, more like two or three to each. That also complicated things.

Returning to the spot beside his bike, he pulled his phone out to check the time-

“What are you doing out here?”

Fenrich started just slightly, greeted by the sight of that instructor on the other side of the chain-link fence, staring right at him and none too pleased. Something was far too intimidating about the slender shortstack. “Uh...” A number of the kids were lined up at the building’s lower windows watching. Shit, they must have spotted him walking around. “I was... interested, in the place you have here,” Fenrich began, doing his best to sound polite.

His target simply raised one eyebrow, arms still folded.

It was enough to make Fenrich swallow. “What you do here, I... I came from that kind of rough background,” he kept a gruff, unruffled demeanour on top of his inner flailing. “So I was interested...”

After a moment, of all things Valvatorez’s face broke into a very pleased grin. “Ah, I see! You’re interested in volunteering to help here!”

Fenrich couldn’t help staring, utterly blind-sided, but kept a professional cool as he nodded. “Y-Yes.”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed!” Valvatorez continued cheerfully. “Why, I only wish you and I weren’t the only two to care about the poor children caught up in all the criminal activity that goes on around here.”

Glancing aside, Fenrich ran an awkward hand back through his mane of hair.

“Although, I must ask,” Having approached the opposite side of the fence between them, Valvatorez’s red eyes glinted seriously for a moment, “you aren’t affiliated with any of the gangs in the area, are you?”

Fenrich fiercely scoffed. “I would never join one of those gangs. On my life, I swore I would rather die than ever allow myself to be someone’s subordinate. I rely on no one but myself.”

Valvatorez nodded. “Excellent. One’s promises to oneself are as important as any other. And you, my friend, I can tell are as honest as you are earnest.”

“‘Friend’?”

“Ah, quite right! What should I call you, friend?”

“...Fenrich,” he supposed, studying the strange man stood before him on the other side of such flimsy-looking metal anew.

“And you may call me ‘Valvatorez’. Come round and I’ll let you in,” he said, already walking away in the direction of the gate. “Oh,” he remembered at the last moment, “you can bring your bike round too; you hardly want to leave it out on these streets unattended.”

Kicking up the stand, “No one with any sense who’s been on these streets more than five minutes would dare touch my bike,” Fenrich took the handlebars in one hand to roll the motorbike along beside him anyway.

“Hm?” Valvatorez took a careful interest, his piercing gaze flickering along through the diamonds of the fence. “Ah, would you be the so-called ‘lone wolf’ biker rumours abound about in the area? Even some of my children have tales to tell about you.”

Fenrich eyed him up in return with a steady gaze, before turning to look ahead of him again. “Just as many abound about you, Street Tyrant.”

Valvatorez chuckled. “People still pass around those old stories? How amusing.”

“What’s amusing?”

“The idea that I had more strength back then, compared to the true strength I possess now.”

Fenrich looked at the emaciated pipsqueak walking along in parallel to him, dwarfed by a massive coat so tattered and loose now it was more like a cape. “Really? The Tyrant who once defeated five gang overlords at once? You don’t look like you could take down a pet dog anymore.”

“It is true my physical condition has deteriorated considerably since those days,” Valvatorez admitted with a sigh. “But nothing can compare to the power of camaraderie I get from my charges!” He heard Fenrich scoff under his breath. “You disagree?”

“Allies are useless as soon as they’re not there for you.”

Infuriatingly, Valvatorez just smiled. “I see you are yet to experience its true power then, just as many of my charges are when they arrive. Have no fear! I will demonstrate it to you as well.” They rounded the corner of the fence, and Fenrich’s disdain was apparently still plain to see. “Doubt it if you like, but you wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t recognised its potential.”

Oh, Fenrich so wanted to correct him on that. But he bit on his lip with one canine instead.

“Nevertheless,” Valvatorez continued, “I do appreciate the importance of independence. Down here in the ‘netherworld’ of town it is all too easy to succumb to the allure of one of the gangs for protection, so instructing my charges in the skills necessary to look after themselves is a high priority of mine.”

Fenrich waited, hardened gaze on the cracked pavement outside the fence, as Valvatorez unlocked it on the other side, swinging it wide open to allow Fenrich’s bike to come in as well.

“You may think me unable to take down a pet dog anymore, but I could still deal with a ‘wolf’, should his behaviour require it.”

Fenrich raised an eyebrow as he turned back to the dark, pointed threat issued behind him. “Oh?” Hands on his waistband, he could easily lean forward to loom over Valvatorez with a cocky sneer.

“Harm one of my children and you will find out,” Valvatorez answered simply, utterly unfazed by the intimidation tactic as he turned away, bearing his unguarded back to Fenrich, to lock the gate again.

Straightening back up, Fenrich returned to a more aloof boredom as he waited and watched.

They didn’t head straight inside though, Valvatorez’s attention drawn to the motorbike instead. Fenrich watched his gaze travelling along its sharp scoops and naked engine, choosing to lean back against the front of the seat and intercept the attention. He hadn’t intended for Valvatorez to now be staring quite lingeringly at his bared abs and chest, but that was interesting.

Pulling his gaze away, “I do hope you wear a helmet when you ride that; I wouldn’t want my charges thinking they can ignore basic traffic safety laws,” Valvatorez huffed, walking towards the building’s front door.

“Interested in having a ride sometime?” Fenrich tested, and there was the tiniest stumble in the step of Valvatorez’s red and black sneakers.

“C-Come now,” he coughed politely into a closed fist, “I’ll show you around.”

Stalking forward after him, this assignment might have just gotten more complicated but Fenrich couldn’t help but smirk there might be a few perks in it as well.

~DOOD~

He really hadn’t expected the place could even be more ridiculous the more Fenrich got to know it from the inside over the next few evenings.

From the kitchen constantly sparsely stocked aside from a ridiculous amount of sardines, to orange painted gaps in the stone yard the kids told him were ‘lava’ and actually avoided like it literally was, all the way to the fact supposed-goody-two-shoes Valvatorez was actually teaching these kids how to use knives and homemade explosives...

But most of all, “Why do you dress them like penguins?” Fenrich finally couldn’t stand anymore after his third day coming by to volunteer.

“It’s undeniable that gang culture is rampant in this area,” Valvatorez answered as he took the next stack of receipts to be tallied, “but whereas others dress themselves as the likes of dragons, orcs and the undead, I hope by dressing as penguins it will encourage more harmless and affable behaviour in my prinnies.”

Smoothing back out the electricity bill he’d scrunched up in one hand, “I thought you also hated those shitty gangs corrupting these streets.”

“Oh, I do,” Valvatorez answered lightly as he took the electricity bill, puzzling briefly over its condition. “But one must appreciate why the vulnerable turn to them, for if you do that same power can be put to positive use. This case in point, children often turn to those gangs looking for that sense of family their home lives have failed to provide them; for a young person in insecure circumstances to seek such fallback is a natural and sensible instinct. I merely attempt to provide the same in a more positive form. It’s necessary to indulge in the trappings such as a distinguishing outfit so they cannot be easily tempted away by such appealing surface elements in other gangs.” He turned to Fenrich, ready for the next item.

Fenrich was sat considering his words though, before realising to sort through the pile for remaining bills from last month. “Your understanding of adolescent psychology is... formidable,” he mentioned as he handed it over finally.

“It is as much my own psychology as theirs; I was also an adolescent once, you know.”

“Why didn’t you join one of the gangs?”

“Hm?” He double-checked his calculations before adding the next on, pale hand smoothing over the sheets. “I simply had no need, I suppose, being strong enough by myself. That and I was yet to appreciate the strength allies can give one.” Before reaching for the next from Fenrich, “If I may enquire about something in return, I’m surprised you didn’t join the Celestia Police Force if you hate the gangs so much.”

“Them?” Fenrich scorned. “I value my freedom too much to get involved with that pack of self-righteous sheep who come swanning down from uptown, acting like little gods.”

Valvatorez took the final bill from him, adding it onto the bottom of the long outgoings table. “Not all its members are so bad.”

“No, the others are just corrupt.”

Valvatorez chuckled, tallying up the final column against the expected figure, nodding that they squared. “Excellent.” Leaning over slightly in his boredom, Fenrich had to wonder how such a small remaining balance could be considered ‘excellent’, but it wasn’t his place to care. “Help me file all this for when I have to do the tax returns.”

“Why do you have to do all this?” Fenrich asked as he gathered the loose sheets haphazardly. “Don’t the local council have oversight into this place?”

“They provide my basic funding,” Fenrich had seen the figure on the sheets, and that term was rather generous, “but all issues of management are left to me.”

“So no one comes by to inspect or help out?” he checked, taking the first folder of receipts and bills to shelve where indicated.

“No, but I manage sufficiently on my own.” Valvatorez turned around to grab the next file. “I do receive aid from the... the...”

Fenrich turned back, finding Valvatorez leant over and clinging to the edge of the rickety desk for support. He was trembling, and it was hard to tell if he let himself fall down to the floor by the desk or simply collapsed. The sound of laboured breathing meant he was still conscious, but that was about the extent of good signs.

Realising how strange it would seem to simply stand over another person collapsed on the floor like this, “‘Strong enough by yourself’?” Fenrich repeated in friendly mock as he crouched down to help lift the man up.

“Ah-h, not too quickly. J-Just into the...” Valvatorez asked, using the assistance to seat himself back on his chair, hunched over with his head down by his knees.

His skin, which had been cold enough before when they’d once brushed hands, had left clammy sweat all over Fenrich’s fingers and gloves with just a momentary touch. Fenrich watched him trying to struggle out of the over-sized coat he wore all the time, even inside, before gently helping. The white shirt underneath was already soaked through in places with the same clammy sweat. “Are you going to faint?”

“I’ll b-be better directly,” Valvatorez tried to reassure him in voice of shaky optimism. The back of Fenrich’s knuckles against Valvatorez’s forehead could feel him still trembling all over though. “J-Just...” He took Fenrich’s hand in both of his, holding tightly onto it.

His fingers were too thin for the length they were, the same as every other part of that small body that was far too slight and pale. This wasn’t the Valvatorez of the old street legends. “You’re ill, aren’t you?”

Valvatorez exhaled, thumbs smoothing over Fenrich’s hand through the worn leather. “Yes... It was what made me realise how alone I was, that I may not have needed anyone with my strength but that I had always wanted to know what it was like to have allies, just once...” His breathing was still heavy but he had calmed down into small quivers now, a sense of calm coming over him at least. “They don’t know if I’ll ever recover. Normally I can manage but lately I suppose I may have overworked myself. I never like to turn a child away, but twelve is rather a lot to manage alone.” Valvatorez patted Fenrich’s hand now, making the effort to look up at him. “That’s why it really was perfect timing, you coming along, Fenrich. I do hope you’ll stay.”

Those honest, red eyes were too naive. With slightly flushing cheeks, Fenrich looked away, then growled slightly when Valvatorez dared laugh at him.

“Perhaps you would like to come by for the full day tomorrow, if you aren’t busy?”

“...If you want,” Fenrich accepted.

“Wonderful! Be here by 8am at the latest.”

“I’m not one of your damn prinnies you can order around,” Fenrich snapped lightly.

“Feel free to use our facilities to prepare meals for yourself as well, although as I have yet to inform the council about you aren’t allowed in our food budget so you’ll have to bring your own supplies.”

“How generous...”

“And do that jacket up for once when you leave tonight; I shan’t have you catching a cold, do you hear?”

“Yes, Lord Valvatorez,” Fenrich mocked, pulling his hand free and pushing the other man backwards to sit up in his chair now he was obviously feeling back to his usual self.

“You really ought to take better care of yourself, Fenrich,” he said honestly.

Snatching up the rest of the files that had never gotten shelved, “I don’t need to hear that from you,” Fenrich began putting them away in their correct places himself.

Chapter Text

“Come now, Fenrich – You’ve been volunteering here for days and I doubt you could tell me a single child’s name!” Valvatorez enthused, literally dragging the other man by the wrist towards the downstairs classroom ready for morning lessons.

“That’s because I don’t even like...” he trailed off into gritted teeth, pretending instead, “meeting new people.”

“Yes, I could tell your skills when it comes to making new friends are exceptionally poor,” Fenrich frowned at the back of Valvatorez’s head, but there was probably no point calling the airhead out on his own sporadic lack of tact, “but fear not! I shall assist you.”

Fenrich was going to want to kill somebody by the end of this, maybe himself, he could tell already.

“Now, this morning’s lesson is Science,” Valvatorez continued. “Lately I’ve been attempting to teach the workings of various common mechanical and electrical objects my charges will encounter. Today’s lesson is on motors.” He briefly held up one small one from his pocket, the kind you might find if you took apart a desk fan or similar. “May I presume you have a basic understanding of such things from your motorbike?”

“Yeah, I’ve fixed it myself a few times.”

“Good. How is your familiarity with video games?”

Fenrich supposed he was just going to have to get used to rolling with these non-sequiters. “I’ve played some, when I could get my hands on them.”

“Excellent. In that case I know what you can help me with.” They reached the closed classroom door, pausing outside first as Valvatorez turned around to him. “Ten of my charges are fine in lessons, far from perfect in many ways perhaps, but nothing extraordinary for juvenile delinquents and the children of criminals. But I would like you to help me with Fuka and Desco.” Fenrich refrained from nodding just yet. “The two are well-behaved but I struggle to ever get them to actually engage with my classes due to their circumstances, at least without giving them my sole attention which is impossible without the rest getting up to no good.”

“So I just need to sit with the two of them and make sure they pay attention?” That sounded easy; his fist was all ready to go.

“Ahh... You may find it a bit more difficult than that,” Valvatorez cautioned, but then threw open the classroom door to walk in. “Class is now in session! To your seats, everyone!”

Fenrich slunk in behind him, watching most of the kids in the room trying to finish jokes and various misbehaviours as they scrambled into seats at two-person tables. Even once they were in their chair most were leaning back on the back legs, chewing gum or doodling on the table surface in full view of the two adults.

“Before we begin today,” Valvatorez continued, “allow me to introduce someone who will be assisting me in looking after you from now on.” He had to gesture quite insistently before Fenrich exhaled, shoved his hands on his waistband and shuffled over with his disdainful gaze on one of the walls. “You may have seen him around in the evenings lately getting to know the place and from now he will be here full-time. This is Fenrich, and he has very kindly volunteered to help you all from the goodness in his heart.”

Most of the kids looked as dubious of that as Fenrich was himself.

“Now, today’s class will be on motors. Everyone, push your desks together and gather round, please,” Valvatorez instructed.

As the scraping of table and chair legs across the old, well-worn floor began, Fenrich followed as gestured to the one table not complying. There sat two girls, the older dressed like the other prinny kids but staring out the window daydreaming, the younger with only the prinny hat intently slouched forward and playing something on a handheld-mode Nintendo Switch right in full view of Valvatorez.

“Desco!” she was unsurprisingly scolded.

“Oh, sorry!” The kid sat back and upright with better posture, eyes not leaving the screen for a second.

“Fuka,” he called next, trying to drag her attention back.

“This is pointless, Valzy. Dad’ll teach us this way better than you or your new minion ever could once he stops being so caught up in his work and comes to pick us up,” she responded, turning forward at least to regard him with the same bored expression.

“Well then, let’s save him a little time and lay the groundwork today. How about that?” Valvatorez suggested, waiting until he received a shrug that looked like acceptance. It was at that point Fenrich felt himself dragged back a step, Valvatorez leaning in to his ear. “Fuka believes their father will come to collect them any day now. Simply play along if she brings it up.”

“He’s not?” Fenrich could easily guess.

“He’s in prison currently for manslaughter after an experiment of his accidently killed their mother, Desco’s twin sister and nearly killed these two as well. Fuka believes the whole thing was just a dream, while Desco uses video games to escape reality whenever she starts thinking about it. You’ll be able to engage Desco in the real world if you make the activity feel enough like a video game, and once Desco is engaged with something Fuka will join in as well.”

Fenrich stared at him for a moment, then at the two girls, but by the time he turned back to say something Valvatorez had already walked off to deal with the other kids, leaving Fenrich to his fate.

Sighing hard, he glanced around and grabbed a nearby chair to place in front of their desk which he dropped himself into.

The delusional older sister stared at him, while the younger continued gaming.

Fenrich stared back with a blank frown and folded arms, considering the two.

“Hey, Fenfen,” Delusions suddenly started.

“You better not be talking to me,” he said, bearing a canine.

“‘Course I am,” she continued, no idea how close she was to getting thrown through a window. “How come you don’t wear a shirt?”

“Because I don’t need to,” he answered simply.

“Really? But what if you come off that bike you ride in on, or if you get in a fight?”

“Desco knows what it is, Big Sis!” Game-Addicted cut in without taking her attention off her game. “This is a rare instance of male Chainmail Bikini syndrome!”

“What,” Fenrich said incredulously flatly.

Delusions was assessing him with a new, rather off-putting interest and smirk, while her little sister continued, “Normally it’s female armour that shows off more skin as it gets stronger, but Mr. Fenfen’s jacket must be a rare case of strong and sexy male armour!”

“What,” was all Fenrich could think to repeat, growling and rubbing his head now he’d managed to get a headache from these two already. “Shut your mouths. I’ll teach you how a motor works-”

“Can we go see your bike?” Delusions interrupted excitably.

“Touch my bike and I’ll kill you.”

“What kind of bike is it?” she persisted.

Fenrich opened his mouth to see if a more creative threat would drive his answer home- “A wonderful idea, Fenrich!” Valvatorez appeared at his side at that moment of all moments though. “Hands-on experience is truly the best way for them to learn.”

Fenrich glanced aside, lips twitching at his bad luck, before muttering a strained, “Right.” Delusions was already grinning a grin he wanted to punch round to the back of her face. The other one though, “You.” Game-Addicted twitched the tiniest amount in recognition she had heard him. “...Do you want come see the stats of my bike?” he tried, tensing up from the unnatural words.

Her thumbs actually paused, pressing no more buttons. “What CC is it?”

Mildly surprised to get something intelligent out of her, “125,” he answered.

She seemed to be thinking about it, “...That’s pretty fast,” then actually pressed the power button on the Switch’s top side, setting down the sleeping handheld on the desk. “Desco wants to see its stats.”

Fenrich gritted his teeth, but glancing up Valvatorez looked so deeply proud and pleased. “Get moving then,” Fenrich ordered, getting up from his own seat to head to the door.

“All right!” Delusions’ chair scraped backwards on the floor as she followed, Game-Addicted’s smaller footsteps in tow.

Ignoring the fuss of, “Why do they get to leave the classroom?” left behind in their wake, Fenrich led the way without looking back. The girls quickly rushed to catch up with him, Delusions giggling.

“So you like Valzy, huh?” she asked teasingly.

“What?”

“You weren’t going to show us your bike, but as soon as Valzy said it was a good idea you agreed – You wanted him to think you’re a good helper and make him like you.”

“That’s not why I agreed,” Fenrich spat back.

“Oh? Then why did you change your mind?”

He furrowed his brow, mouth pressed tight closed as well. Eventually, after too long a delay, he tried, “Because he’s in charge here.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Delusions said without an ounce of belief as they exited the front door.

All Fenrich could do was growl to himself and try to ignore Game-Addicted coming up on his other side as well. “Desco knows what you need to do! You have to give him a favourite gift every day to increase his LP and select the right conversation choices, then you’ll get to have a date event with him.”

“I’m not- I don’t like him like that,” he snarled, actually glad to get to where his bike was parked out front.

“You totally do,” Delusions insisted. “You want some of that flat, little ass.”

“No!”

“Oh, so you want to bottom instead?” she guessed with a big grin, her sister giggling away naughtily.

“Shut your mouth before I throw you at the fence so hard it rips you to shreds like a cheese grater,” Fenrich threatened, using his height to loom over her.

She ignored him with a ridiculous level of stubborn naivety, ducking past to start putting her hands all over the body of his bike.

“What part of ‘Touch my bike and I’ll kill you’ don’t you remember?” he barked, trying to grab her hands to force them away.

She ducked away though towards the seat part. “This is really cool bike...”

“Desco likes the wheels!” At least the smaller one had the sense to simply crouch and look at the bike without touching.

“Get your hands off it and I’ll show you-”

“Desco, give me a hand getting on,” Delusions said, both hands on the seat and trying unsuccessfully to lift herself on.

“Hey! Don’t you dare-!”

“Up you go, Big Sis!” The little one helped push her up enough to swing a leg over the seat. Her legs dangled, flailing as they tried to find something to rest comfortably on, and her arms reaching out could only just touch the handlebars. Shifting herself forward to the very front of the seat so she could just about get a grip on the right parts, the space she left behind her, “Desco too!” was soon occupied by Game-Addicted scrambling up using her big sister’s clothing to help pull herself.

“Ready, Desco?” Delusions asked, trying to mess with the handlebars and then looking around for the bike’s ignition.

“Desco will be your Double Dash partner! Leave throwing the Banana Skins and Koopa Shells to Desco!”

Fenrich would have given up if his precious bike wasn’t involved in all this. “Get off now. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, stop worrying, Fenfen,” Delusions waved a hand dismissively at him, trying to lean the bike over which couldn’t have been good for the stand. “I know what I’m- Shit!” She then tried to lean over too quickly the other way, sending them both and the bike crashing to the ground.

“Damn it!” Fenrich got involved only to pull his bike out of the mess, setting it back up and crouching to inspect it for damage. “I told you not to mess around!”

All he got back was a weak sniffling noise.

Since there appeared to be no damage to the bike, any injuries cushioned by the kids it had fallen over on, Fenrich sighed and stood back up to go inspect them.

Game-Addicted was biting on her lip, one hand scuffed up plus gravel and dirt all over her full-body purple and grey clothes. Delusions meanwhile seemed to have completely zoned out even as blood ran down the length of her leg from a bruised cut and one arm protectively curled in her lap.

These damn kids... “Where’s the first aid kit?” Fenrich asked.

Game-Addicted sniffled up a particularly strong sniffle, and said, “Its spawn point’s in the k-kitchen.”

“Come on.” He turned to go, but soon realised neither was following him. “...You need to restore your lost HP,” he tried, and Game-Addicted seemed to register that, climbing to her feet.

“Big Sis?” Game-Addicted tried before she would go anywhere though. “You need to restore your HP too, Big Sis.” Even her words didn’t seem to register with Delusions, that lost gaze still staring into space near the spot they’d fallen off from.

Fenrich scratched at his scalp, exhaling hard. Walking back towards her, “Hey.” No response. “You don’t want your father to see you looking like this when he turns up, do you? Clean yourself up.”

Delusions’ head finally twitched up slightly, then her gaze moved as well towards Fenrich’s legs even though she never looked up at him. Silently, she climbed to her feet and started walking back towards the building with her face down.

No wonder Valvatorez needed extra help with these kids; now he was the one having to deal with them, Fenrich really wanted to meet and punch the adults who’d messed them up this bad.

~DOOD~

“All right, children!” Valvatorez called over the sunny, noisy yard that afternoon. “It’s self-defence time!” That seemed to gather a lot of the scattered attention, the kids all drifting back from where they’d been chatting to throng around their instructor. “Today we’ll be practising knife techniques,” He picked up a box of blunt crayons at this point to hold up, “so everyone take a crayon. If I see any real knives there will be punishments!”

The kids all shuffled up to take a crayon, some scuffling over the silliness of what colour they got even, before they settled back into a messy group. Delusions and Game-Addicted were sat out watching, either because of their injuries earlier or perhaps they always did.

“Fenrich?” Valvatorez also offered the box to him.

Fenrich huffed derisively. “I don’t rely on weapons. Your own body is the only thing you can always count on having to hand.”

“We teach that as well, but it doesn’t hurt to know how to use one,” he replied. “Neither does it hurt to know how someone else may use one against you,” he further observed, which Fenrich conceded with a small nod. The box was set down, Valvatorez turning to the group again. “Now, we’ll focus on evasion techniques today, but also how to counter-attack should the opportunity arise. Fenrich, would you mind being my demonstration partner?”

He nodded, almost grinning at the thought of sizing the Street Tyrant Valvatorez up in action, even in this far-fallen state, not to mention this was an excellent opportunity to assess his target; he was only too eager to get into position.

“Now, many of the opponents you would be facing while at your age will have a size advantage over you as Fenrich does over me,” Valvatorez began, light blue crayon waggling in his hand. “But size can lead to over-confidence, and is never a substitute for proper technique!” Fenrich glanced aside as the speech continued in this didactic vein, gaze falling on Delusions and the rather lewd hand gesture she made which suggested her interpretation was far less about crayons and far more about genitalia. He rolled his eyes away for the sake of his sanity. “Now Fenrich,” Valvatorez’s voice drew him back again, “are you ready?”

Though he’d missed any potential explanation of what was coming, Fenrich dropped into combat position ready, cracking his knuckles and giving a cocky grunt.

“Very well.” The man looked utterly ridiculous assuming a sword-wielding stance with a light blue wax crayon. “If you would attack me, please.”

This was going to be too easy.

Energy coiled in Fenrich’s limbs, turning to a tension, before he sprang forth, one foot down to pivot his full weight on for a vicious hook punch.

His whole follow-through connected with nothing but air though. Where Valvatorez had been stood before his vision turned to motion blur was empty, and his instincts screamed to get away from what was suddenly to his left. He tried, even ready to pull up a guard, but before any of that something jammed hard and precise into the patch of soft flesh above the back of his left hip. A tingling jerk shot through that entire leg, the spasm taking its strength out from under him and sending him crashing to the stone floor.

Valvatorez stood above him with his gaze on their audience, that light blue crayon reversed in his grip and slightly crushed at the tip from where it had been forced into Fenrich’s skin. “Now that was the technique at full speed and with a counter-attack. We’ll perform it again at a slower speed for you.”

Fenrich didn’t need any instruction to get back to his feet and retake his previous position.

Lesson be damned, when Valvatorez nodded he coiled and then sprang forth with the same speed again. This time he contorted into a left palm-strike, one barely grabbed around the wrist in time to deflect its force safely out to one side. Then Fenrich’s other foot came down, riding the expected deflection to deliver a second palm-strike with his right and full weight behind it.

The wax crayon clattered on the stone floor, a cold and slender hand having halted the full force of Fenrich’s palm-strike head-on.

Their clasped hands eclipsed one of Valvatorez’s eyes, but the red of the other was a sharp slit that pierced so deeply through Fenrich’s intentions he felt a cold sweat flush his skin beneath his jacket. “As you can see, these moves do not always go as planned.” In the instant Valvatorez turned to the watching children a smile was already on his face again. “I was slow that time, which is why Fenrich was able to strike me.” He was calling that complete block a ‘strike’ on him?! “I’m afraid you’ll have to move a little slower, Fenrich,” Valvatorez turned back to him. “I don’t have the speed I once did.”

Fenrich gladly pulled his fists away from that cold grip, stumbling back. Numbly, he nodded and took a more gentle, demonstration stance, moving at the speed Valvatorez wanted.

His mind was numb, whirring.

What man possessed that kind of speed even at the fullest strength? It couldn’t even have been speed; the human body had hard, physical limits one couldn’t surpass. Only the instincts of the mind were sharper, the ability to read an opponent.

If Valvatorez had known that second attack was coming...

The rest of the demonstration continued properly without incident. Once Valvatorez felt the kids should have been able to pick it up, he split the ten active participants into five pairs to train, rotating through the groups so every kid also had a turn being personally tested by him.

Fenrich sat by for that part, far away from where Delusions and Game-Addicted were off chatting in their own little world thankfully. Taking one of the small packages out of his jacket pocket, he unwrapped the paper around the taiyaki inside, biting through to the slightly mushy meat at the centre as he watched.

Valvatorez was gentle and slow with the kids, not easy on them but nonetheless they were at no risk of harm when being tested by him. None of them had the slightest chance of doing him any harm either, their crayons jabbing leaving a spectrum of small smears all over his black coat but never causing him to more than chuckle and praise their ability.

What gave him that strength still? The man had nearly keeled over this very lunchtime before he got a chance to eat but now here he was with the strength and speed of a demon. It didn’t make-

“Hey you!” A rude and bratty voice demanded. “Give me some of that!”

“No,” Fenrich said even before turning to a purple-haired shrimp of a prinny that had come over to him.

“What did you say?!”

“Laharl.” The brat’s training partner came over too, gothy make-up and his voice calm to the point of sounding bored. “We should keep training. It’s important to be able to protect yourself.”

“No way! This guy’s eating and I want some!” Brat-face said.

“Eating?” Bored Edgelord almost sounded like he had the slightest hint of interest for once. “What are you eating?”

“Taiyaki,” Fenrich muttered between bites.

“That doesn’t look like a normal adzuki bean paste filling,” Bored Edgelord observed, leaning in. “What kind of meat is that?”

Fenrich observed what was left in the tail of this taiyaki himself, frowning. “I can’t remember.” It could be a combination of chicken and snake meat for all he knew.

While that kid only seemed to grow more curious, “Ahh, damn it! I want some meat!” Brat-face complained. “Meat other than sardines at least!”

“‘Sardines’?” Fenrich questioned, remembering the ridiculous stocks in the kitchen.

“Val eats them to help his condition,” Bored Edgelord explained, readjusting his prinny hat. “He makes us eat them too, since he says they’re good for us.”

Fenrich watched Valvatorez evading side-to-side quickly as he sparred with a sadistic pair of red pigtails. “What condition?”

“I don’t know what it’s called. He ought to be having regular blood transfusions for it, but he refuses because he says other people need the blood more-”

“This is so boring!” Brat-face complained. “Are you going to give us some food, old man, or do we have to beat you up for it?”

Fenrich twitched slightly, “...‘Old man’?” rising from his seat and tossing his paper wrapper to the ground. “Oh, I’ll give you something to fill that big mouth of yours, whelp!”

~DOOD~

Valvatorez hadn’t looked totally convinced the injuries Brat-face ended up with were from self-defence training, but he couldn’t prove it was Fenrich either.

Once they were done with lessons for the day, most of the kids were pretty lazy about getting their evening meal and would simply sit around complaining about being hungry for an hour or two before finally making it. Fenrich therefore opted to use the facilities early, before they got in and made a mess he would have to help clean up.

One kid did come in early, but the little punk kept over on the opposite side so Fenrich could tolerate it.

A little time later, “Hey, bro,” a hand tugged on his sleeve’s elbow. “Can you check my plate?” Since Fenrich could only stare blankly at the kid who’d come over to bother him, “Val insists on checking our food before we eat it. This is fine, right?”

He looked down, seeing a plate of red sauce all over a pile of indistinguishable chunks on slices of plain bread. “Looks fine.” There wasn’t mould on it or anything.

“Thanks, bro!” Little Punk said with a goofy grin, speeding away with a flick of his loose, silver ponytail beneath his prinny hat – Well, the kid had semi-decent taste in hair at least.

Ripping open the noodle packet with his bare hands, just as he was about to tip them in- “Zeroken! Show me your plate!” Fenrich paused.

Valvatorez was stood in the doorway, Little Punk caught and looking frightful before those scowling folded arms. “Fenrich said it was okay!”

“I’m surprised when you can barely even tell what’s under all this ketchup – It looks like nothing more than chicken nuggets and chips on white bread!”

“I put some cheese on it too!”

“There’s not a single vegetable on that plate!” Valvatorez shouted, walking a few steps forward to really loom over the kid.

“There’s a veg!”

“Chips don’t count as a vegetable, Zeroken!”

“I meant the ketchup! That’s why I put so much on!”

“That counts even less!” He tutted, taking the plate from Little Punk’s hands with no sympathy for his wailing. “Make a full plate of sardines and vegetables – Including carrots! – and we’ll mix half of that with half of this... nutritional abomination to make a proper meal for both you and Desco.”

“Yay! Desco gets to recover her HP and SP for free!” came in from the main room.

“Do I have to have carrots...?” Little Punk whined.

“Yes, you must! And no TV for you tonight!” Valvatorez turned back briefly to shout into the main room, “Zeroken is not allowed to watch any TV or video games tonight, everyone!” which was met with a half-hearted acknowledgement. “Now, chop-chop. The quicker you begin the quicker you can eat,” he told Little Punk.

The kid slunk away, whimpering to himself, back to the other side of the kitchen.

Valvatorez meanwhile strode up to Fenrich’s side, the offending plate still brandished in his hand as he presented it to Fenrich again. “Do you call this a nutritious meal, Fenrich?”

“It’d keep him alive,” Fenrich answered, ignoring the stupid huff Valvatorez appeared to be in to return to his own meal preparation. “The calories would last him longer on the street than vegetables would.”

“He isn’t on the street however.” Tutting, he set the plate down for now and had to physically push its insulting contents far away from him. “And what are you eating tonight?”

“Ramen.” Fenrich stirred the noodle block he’d dropped in, pulling the tangled lump apart in the broth. “That’s allowed, yes?”

Valvatorez considered. “What toppings are you having?”

Fenrich nodded him towards what he’d been preparing while Little Punk cooked, the slices of boiled egg and green onion on the side. “There’s a veg,” he took a little sardonic joy in mocking.

“Barely enough of one.”

“You should try eating more too, it might help you clear that stick out of your ass,” Fenrich sassed him, reaching for the black pepper and salt that Valvatorez could deal with him using from the kitchen’s supplies.

A cold hand clamped down on his before he could add any of the salt. “You may think me a fusspot,” Valvatorez pulled the grinder from him, setting aside where Fenrich would have to go through him to now reach it, “and that I am far too strict with my charges, but one day these children will need to survive without me, Fenrich.” Those sharp, red eyes were focused firmly on his, waiting for Fenrich to try and challenge them. “Not everyone is as tough as you and I. And we both know it’s a case of survival of the fittest out on those streets.”

Fenrich did try to stare him down, before looking away to where Little Punk was trying to peel sticks of carrot without taking his fingers off, having obviously forgotten to peel first and cut after. Valvatorez’s gaze held firm when he returned, and Fenrich sighed. “I see your point.” Though the firmness stayed, Valvatorez now smiled. “Why do you care so much about them?”

“Why?” The question actually surprised him into thoughtful silence for a moment. “Because they’re my charges, I suppose.” Fenrich made a snort of laughter at the rather cyclical logic. “I don’t accept children here whom I don’t believe have the potential to excel in the environment I provide. Though many are small and weak when they first arrive I can tell when great power lies within, just like sardines!”

Fenrich actually jerked slightly at the sudden and impassioned non-sequiter that Valvatorez even threw his coat out in a flourish to emphasise. “I’ve heard of your... passion for fish.”

“Not just any old fish, only sardines! Although actually there are many different species that are referred to as ‘sardines’ depending on the language-”

“It’s not enough I have to eat the damn things tonight,” came in a whine from across the kitchen, “I have to listen to one of Val’s lectures about them too?!”

“Get back to work, Zeroken!” Valvatorez snapped, huffing to have been interrupted. When he saw that small smirk playing across Fenrich’s face, “What about you? Do you also fail to recognise the incredible potential of sardines, friend?”

“I prefer taiyaki myself,” Fenrich stuck to a simple answer.

“‘Taiyaki’? I haven’t heard of this.” Valvatorez moved closer, intrigued. “‘Tai’ is Japanese for ‘sea bream’. Are they some sort of fish?”

Poisoning, that was an avenue of assassination he hadn’t considered but would well suit this mission actually. “They’re filled batter pastries shaped like fish. They’re cheap, nutritious and versatile, an ideal food.”

“As are sardines! Even more so than your taiyaki,” he scorned, and Fenrich honestly wouldn’t have been surprised to be slapped with a glove and challenged to a duel.

The thought of fighting Valvatorez... After enough of a moment had passed to change the subject, “Earlier...” Fenrich brought up, “when I... attacked you...” He wasn’t quite sure how to continue.

“Ah, that. I wasn’t harmed, don’t worry,” Valvatorez said, and Fenrich really wasn’t sure what to say to that ludicrously unnecessary reassurance. “I was quite glad that you came at me like that the second time, actually,” he continued. “After your first attack I’ll confess I was interested to see your full strength.”

“I wouldn’t say that was my full strength,” Fenrich felt a need to boast.

“Oh?” Valvatorez enquired in a tone Fenrich really liked. “Then you’ll have to show me sometime, the power of a body fuelled by inferior, pastry fish.”

Fenrich turned off the cooker knob a little too hard, “I’ll show you then,” leaning in over Valvatorez.

Valvatorez actually leaned up, pressing his forehead to Fenrich’s and setting sparks flying. “And I’ll show you the power of sardines.”

“Hey, everyone!” An irritating voice broke in from the kitchen doorway. “Valzy’s fighting with his boyfriend!”

They broke apart just before the stampede of kids crammed themself into the door frame to peer in, following Delusions’ call.

“Quiet your mouth, bitch! Lest I have to come do it for you!” Fenrich threatened.

“Lass,” Valvatorez wanted to set straight, “Fenrich and I are not in any way ‘boyfriends’,” he scorned the very term.

“I knew something was going on,” Sadistic Pigtails claimed.

“Ohohohoho! They try so hard to deny it, isn’t it adorable?” Princess Pink Slut said.

“It’s so obvious even Usalia can see it, plip,” Small & Yellow added.

“Desco can’t see it – She’s too short!”

“I mean, I didn’t want to say anything,” Little Punk spoke up from across the kitchen, “but it was getting pretty gay in here, guys.”

“I will end each and every one of you!” Fenrich all but roared in warning, ignoring the laughter as he served up as quickly as possible. Valvatorez was trying to quieten them back down but Fenrich opted simply to head for the back door of the kitchen and let himself out into the yard, shutting the door and all that noise in behind him.

He sat alone on the end of one of the benches beside the long table, big enough for the entire family here. The evening was growing cool, streets heavy with the noise of people heading back to their homes, while he sat by himself in the yard with his bowl of ramen.

When the back door opened he turned with a growl, but it was only Valvatorez who shut the door behind him. “I apologise. At times the children can be a bit...”

“Moronic?”

“Rambunctious,” he chose. “Many are at that age where they joke about the things they are yet to understand themselves.”

“Isn’t that every age with children?”

“Well,” Valvatorez chuckled slightly, hoping it was okay to take the seat opposite Fenrich. “If you don’t mind me saying, your desire to volunteer here intrigues me considering your manner towards the children.”

Shit. “I know,” Fenrich acknowledged. “I’m just... not good with kids, even when I care about them.”

“Don’t worry, I can tell you do care, rough as your way of expressing it is,” Valvatorez actually said. “I was uncertain how to treat them myself when I first started. To this day, I still wonder why they’re all so fond of me.”

“It’s because you treat them like adults. That and you’re honest with them,” Fenrich answered. “We... At home we were treated like most kids are, like useless nuisances...” he added in a mutter.

“‘We’?”

“My siblings.”

“You come from a large family?” Valvatorez leant in, enthralled with the idea.

“‘Family’ isn’t the word,” Fenrich scoffed. “My mother didn’t use protection with her clients. She tried to be a mother at first, with the first few like me, but later she just abandoned them as soon as they were born, those she didn’t give away as drug debt repayment to the gangs.”

He stabbed at his ramen, keeping his eyes on it alone. “...My word, that’s too awful for words, Fenrich.”

“She tried to sell me too a couple of times. It’s why I got out of there as soon as I could.”

“I... I’m not surprised.” Chin resting against one palm, Valvatorez’s gaze drifted off far away. “Perhaps it was a kindness after all to have no one...”

“I certainly prefer it that way now,” Fenrich finished, focusing solely on his ramen.

After a moment Valvatorez came up with the excuse, “I suppose I should go check on the children,” leaving Fenrich be as he wanted. He paused though, before walking away entirely. “A weaker heart than yours would have fallen to evil or despair. I’m glad you have such a strong heart, my friend.”

The noodles slowly slid down Fenrich’s chopsticks as the footsteps left. He simply stared at them, making sure not to catch his own reflection in the murky broth.

~DOOD~

“Any luck?” was asked impatiently.

“I’ve made progress,” Fenrich answered, adjusting the phone by his ear in one hand as the other tried to turn a page in the textbook to read for tomorrow’s morning lessons. “Valvatorez keeps a very close eyes on his charges, as you said.”

“Progress alone won’t get you paid.”

Fenrich scowled. “He’s taken me on as a volunteer to help with the kids; I’ll have plenty of opportunity to strike, when the time is right. I’ll stay on after to cover our tracks, then when the place gets shut down without Valvatorez there we can both wash our hands of this. Committing both a murder and a kidnapping without drawing attention isn’t exactly an easy job.”

“Can you do it?”

“Of course I can,” he scorned, looking up as the single, naked light bulb in the room began to flicker. “I haven’t had a chance to speak with your son yet to see if I can get him to come willingly, by the way.”

“Hmm... Perhaps best you not even bother. Valvatorez has brainwashed the lad, don’t listen to a word he says. And do follow him if he ever goes out anywhere; the boy’s fallen into bad company-”

“I don’t care what happened between the two of you, Carter, so long as I’m getting paid.”

“In that case remember you only have until the end of the month,” he said sharply, beating Fenrich to hanging up.

Fenrich sighed, “Pompous bastard,” throwing the phone down on his mat-and-blanket bed. Pulling his jacket tighter around him as the rain pattered down on the uninsulated roof of the single room, he returned to the dog-eared textbook and the silence of being alone.

Chapter Text

Fenrich rode out in the persistent rain, everything focused on the road ahead as he cut through the streets and early morning traffic.

With his recently-gifted key he opened the gate to let himself into the group home’s silent yard, locking it behind him before pulling his bike right up to the entrance. Under the shelter of the large porch, he took the time to run a cloth over the seat and mechanics carefully, “Keep out of the rain here today, and don’t let the damp get in your connections this time,” murmuring to it.

Inside he threw the wet cloth over the nearest radiator and kicked off his boots under it, taking a deep breath at the level of noise already in progress at 8am in the morning. Valvatorez still managed to hear his arrival over it somehow as always, coming out to greet him cheerfully- “Halt!”

Fenrich stopped, confused he’d only been allowed about five steps into the place for some reason today.

“Fenrich! You’re soaking wet!” Valvatorez said, cheer turning to horror in a second.

After a pause for something that should have been quite obvious, “It’s raining.”

“Riding a motorcycle in inclement weather is incredibly dangerous! Not to mention you’ll catch a cold!”

“And especially not to mention the floor I just finished cleaning,” one of the prinnies walking by with a floor brush mentioned, the one with the green prinny clothes. “Don’t you dare drip all over it!”

“Quite right, Kurtis. And an excellent job you did!” Valvatorez commended, causing the prinny to preen with slight smugness. “Fenrich, go upstairs and clean yourself up in one of the bathrooms!” he instructed.

Fenrich regarded the stairs he’d been avoiding as far as possible so far with disdain, corner of his mouth wrinkling just at the thought of, “I don’t want to dirty one of their bathrooms,” he put in the faux-kindest way he could.

“Very well, use mine. I’ll show you where it is.” Valvatorez walked on to lead the way.

Fenrich went to follow, but couldn’t help a lingering glance at the prinny walking away into the main room, raising an eyebrow at the green hair spikily poking out from under the identical green of his hat. The kid kept to himself, almost impossible to find normally, but if the rain kept everyone in today...

His long legs took the stairs two at a time to catch up to Valvatorez before his dallying was noticed, following along the plain upper hallway past the hive of bedrooms to the one a little set apart, well-positioned for seeing almost every other doorway of the upstairs he noted.

Valvatorez’s bedroom was painfully stark and empty, the black wooden furniture and bedding just about the only thing of note in the otherwise utterly practical room. It had its own en suite, even if tiny and equally spartan, that he was led into. Standing up on tip-toes to reach into the room’s one cupboard, Valvatorez tossed a spare towel to Fenrich before sighing as he assessed it really wasn’t going to be enough. “I think I have a spare hairdryer somewhere...” he busied back into the bedroom, leaving Fenrich to wipe off what he could be bothered to with the towel. “Why won’t you take better care of yourself, Fenrich?” he asked, returning with a simple hairdryer in-hand he plugged in and aimed at Fenrich.

Fenrich leant away on instinct, reaching out to take it himself and dry his mane of hair. The thing was so weak it was quiet enough to answer, “I’m fine. You’re the only one who fusses about these things.”

Valvatorez sighed. “You’re not used to anyone caring about you, are you? Even yourself. That’s where you and I differ, I suppose.”

Fenrich paused, eyeing up the unusual defeatism. “I...” He pressed his lips back together, not actually sure how to answer that, or if he wanted to admit the answer perhaps.

“I don’t suppose your mother ever did things like this for you.” Valvatorez took up the discarded towel, trying to dry Fenrich’s jacket.

He jerked away too strongly however. “Don’t mention her. I didn’t tell you that so you could...” He hissed, clicking his teeth shut.

Still frozen in his flinch away, “I won’t again. I apologise,”  Valvatorez said, holding out the towel for when Fenrich was ready for it himself.

When it was left as simply as that, Fenrich’s hackles soon softened back down enough even to mutter, “Sorry,” as he finished drying and fluffing his hair. “I had to get here somehow this morning,” he excused.

“I suppose one can’t really use an umbrella on a motorbike,” Valvatorez mused in better humour. “Where do you live?”

“It’s about twenty minutes ride from here.”

“Twenty minutes? The direction you always set off in... That would mean you live in the warehouse complex.” Fenrich cursed himself for turning away too quickly from those astute red eyes. “Fenrich?”

“There’s a security guard hut there. It has water and electricity,” he answered.

“Are you living there legally?”

The worst thing was Valvatorez had taken that tone he did with the kids for the question, that far too knowing and righteous one.

The lack of answer said enough. “You’re squatting.”

“I don’t want to waste money on rent if I don’t have to,” Fenrich defended, growing prickly again as he snatched the towel back.

Valvatorez sighed, crossing his arms in front of him to place one hand in front of his face. “You should have said something. We have room here for you.”

“I’m fine. I wouldn’t want to share with any of the kids anyway,” he tried as an acceptable sounding excuse.

“Certainly not,” Valvatorez agreed. “But my own room has enough space for another to sleep.”

Fenrich grunted, in that case sticking to a clearer, “No.”

“Why not?”

Well, if he was going to press, “I don’t trust you.”

“...Oh.” Valvatorez only seemed embarrassed, not upset. Then he sighed. “My charges are always saying I’m too quick to trust people. I should learn to appreciate it doesn’t come so easily for others.” Nodding to himself, he set to unplugging the hairdryer to put away. “It would also make you uncomfortably dependent on me, wouldn’t it? I didn’t think my offer through sufficiently, I apologise.”

“It’s... fine,” Fenrich stiffly held out the towel too wet to dry himself any more with, before folding it to place on the room’s one tiny radiator.

“Nevertheless,” Valvatorez continued, “do feel free to make use of the facilities here such as this bathroom and our Wi-Fi whenever you’re here.”

Almost baulking away from such an alien offer, “...Thanks,” Fenrich muttered, following back out into the bedroom. There would indeed be enough room for a floor mat as it was, even a second bed with a little rearrangement of the furniture.  He raised an eyebrow slightly at the existing bed, how vulnerable anyone sleeping in it would be, but Valvatorez was already on his way back downstairs and the conversation was therefore over.

There would still be plenty of chances, Fenrich knew as he followed.

~DOOD~

When it rained lunch was eaten inside. After making it in the kitchen each kid got their own choice of where to eat it in the large home.

Today Fenrich paid closer attention, watching the one kid who always slipped away unnoticed – Easy considering the mouths on the rest of the little menaces – and followed out into the corridor leading to the front entrance, cocking his head as that green prinny slipped out the front door with a lunch box under one arm.

Patiently, Fenrich himself waited until the corridor was clear and an innocuous amount of time had passed to follow, stepping out into the damp-cooled, grey air outside. A practical sheet of rain was pouring down in front off the building’s porch roof, the kid sat to one side beside his bike, spooked and curious. Fenrich found his hackles didn’t go up though, nothing about the kid’s behaviour suggesting his bike was at risk of anything worse than some well-deserved admiration.

Fenrich walked over to sit on the concrete porch floor as well, a comfortable few feet from the kid, and took his own wrapped lunch from his pocket. “Kurtis, right?”

“What do you want from me?”

He liked the kid’s wariness. “You’re the only one who makes any sense here, wanting to eat alone away from that lot.”

Kurtis smirked, eyes closed. “Are you counting Valvatorez in that?”

“He’s one of the worst of them,” Fenrich said, starting with the tail of this taiyaki.

“True. But he’s noble, and truly passionate about his job. That’s worthy of respect if nothing else,” Kurtis commented with casual enthusiasm. “Although I shouldn’t even be here in the first place, I’m glad I was able to meet him because of all this.”

Fenrich raised an eyebrow, turning to the kid. “You want to go home? If you shouldn’t be here.”

“Please. This is the only place I would ever refer to as home now,” Kurtis tutted, scowling slightly.

“Were your parents also pieces of shit?”

That got the kid’s attention, a bit of seeming vulnerability and trust. He was 17 apparently, but right here that seemed so fragile, so volatile between far older and far younger. “My parents, no, they were good people. But they died with my baby sister five years ago,” he answered distantly. “After that I went to live with my grandfather, but then he died last year too.”

“I heard you refused to go home to your foster father.”

Now Kurtis scowled again, looking like he was going to spit that put such a bad taste in his mouth. “Don’t refer to that unworthy and ignoble bastard as my ‘father’; thanks to him I nearly lost my adoptive sister Jennifer as well. He better enjoy his freedom while he still has it...”

‘Sister’? Carter hadn’t mentioned he had another child. Fenrich knew when to turn back to the rain and focus on his taiyaki, and his own business, though. The kid got on with eating his own lunch just as industriously, tucked up against the wall with what looked like a box of tapas dishes protected in his lap. His prinny hat was shoved down over his green hair and sharp features, behaviour so professional but yet skittish somehow, green eyes snapping up every few minutes to scan his surroundings. Fenrich frowned slightly. “...Were you looking at my bike?” he began as affably as he could.

Kurtis chuckled. “Only looking. I heard what you said to Fuka.” A kid that actually had working ears; that was a nice change around here. “I’m really interested in mechanics, any kind of science really,” he started to warm back up. “I’ve been looking at a career in that area since I can’t bear the idea of joining the police anymore.”

Fenrich snorted lightly. “Them? They’re as bad as any gang in this city, and even more corrupt.”

“I won’t dispute that from first-hand experience,” he scoffed. “My grandfather used to be an officer, a proper one who actually defended people, and he was disgusted by what they’ve become nowadays. As his grandson, I swore that I would uphold the legacy of the Don Joaquin name and sort them out myself, at least until all this happened. They’re a disgrace to the few good officers left like Police Captain Gordon.”

“Didn’t Captain Gordon die last month in that hostage situation with the gangs?”

“O-Oh. Yes. That’s what the newspaper said...” Kurtis admitted, shrinking back into himself.

“See? You’d made the right choice. Go be a scientist, or whatever,” Fenrich advised gruffly.

Kurtis didn’t reply, staring into the empty space in his lunch box.

“...You like it here?” Fenrich tried anew.

“Hm, it’s such a noisy and frantic place, full of delinquents and a meddlesome instructor who won’t ever give you a break. I thought I’d only put up with it until I could clear my name, but I’ve come to love it here actually.”

Fenrich looked closely, but the kid was honest-to-God genuine about it despite his forever-cool demeanour. “I take it back,” Fenrich said, “you’re as weird as the rest of them.”

Kurtis laughed, smiling an honest smile.

Fenrich averted his gaze the other way, trying to focus on why he was doing this. Returning his gaze to his bike, “You want to come for a ride sometime?” he offered, nodding to the bike.

“Absolutely,” the kid’s slight geekiness answered.

Easy. Now, as he bit off the head of his taiyaki, to deal with the other half.

~DOOD~

He stared up at the naked light bulb above his makeshift bed. The roof above it was silent now, rain finally having let up after two whole days.

Glancing around the empty, lifeless room, after an internal wrestle Fenrich began gathering his things into the one large bag he owned, taking everything and slinging it over his shoulder as he headed out to his bike this morning.

He let himself in as normal, seeking out Valvatorez setting up in the classroom. “Hey.”

“Ah! Good morning, Fenrich.” He obviously noticed the unusual presence of the bag slung over Fenrich’s back.

“The police have been sniffing around where I’m staying,” he lied. “Does that offer to move in here still stand?”

“Of course.” Valvatorez set the lesson materials down, done anyway. “The last thing we want is you getting arrested. Come store your things in my room.”

Fenrich nodded, following him upstairs. The kids would run by him without a glance now, only that one mythically quiet, blue-haired girl staring at him from behind her stuffed rabbit as they went into Valvatorez’s room together. He dropped his bag where indicated, assisting in shifting aside the room’s chest of drawers to make extra floor space for sleeping on. “Thanks.”

“Not at all,” Valvatorez assured. “I do hope the floor will serve purpose for now, even if it’s far from ideal.”

Fenrich glanced at the bed in the room, and out into the mostly deserted upper floor, before sidling up to Valvatorez slightly. “I could always join you, if you ever want.” He added a nod in the direction of Valvatorez’s bed, just to make it clear.

Those pale cheeks flushed wonderfully, red irises dwarfed as his eyes widened. “I-I, um... That is...” His hands were fretting too, fingers lacing at the tips while he couldn’t even look at Fenrich now.

Fenrich leant himself against the nearest wall, long chest stretching out and leather jacket riding up to display a full set of abs and hipbones.

Valvatorez definitely looked. He even lingered like he couldn’t stop. But he shook himself free, “I must see that the children have finished their breakfasts!” striding out with a flourish of his long, ragged coat.

Fenrich watched him go with great enjoyment, gaze flicking down and that lass might be the most irritating individual he’d ever encountered but she was right about that flat, little ass; whether it helped the mission or not, damn he needed some of that.

Fenrich played the dutiful assistant throughout that day, even doing his best not to show a temper around the children. He would allow his gaze to linger on Valvatorez often though, noticed or otherwise, and the subtlest of physical flexes were not rebuked. Valvatorez did continue to resist actually being seduced, however obvious his interest was, but perhaps it was just that adorably amusing sense of propriety of his. Perhaps tonight, once all the kids were in bed-

“Hey, you.”

Fenrich looked up from his phone at that kid with his prinny hat always tucked under a pulled-up hood, the one Valvatorez had told him not to touch the special, custom-made hoodie of and not to mind what he said. “What?”

“How long do you think you’ve got left to live?”

Whatever warnings he’d received, that was enough to make Fenrich choke on his evening taiyaki.

“If you answer a few questions I can help estimate for you.”

“Is that a threat?” Fenrich asked, ready to put his phone down and loom over this absolute pipsqueak if needed.

“I don’t know, that depends on how you answer me,” Hoodied Wannabe began haughtily. “For the record, I don’t trust you. Valvatorez might be the coolest Tyrant these streets have ever seen but he’s also a complete idiot. He might believe you’re here because you have a good heart, or whatever, but I don’t.”

“Think whatever you like,” Fenrich dismissed, returning to scrolling through his phone.

“Hey! Use some manners when you talk to me, dammit!” Hoodied Wannabe even pointed at him dramatically. “Don’t you know who I am? I’m top dawg around here; I get full marks on nearly all the tests Val sets!”

Fenrich spared a glance at this shrimp of a barely-adolescent who’d gone past amusingly haughty into just annoying. “You’re the son of our corrupt ex-mayor who got sold out by his own daddy as a delinquent, I know who you are.”

The kid flinched back, shrinking into his special hoodie. “Pops did that to protect me actually, even if he didn’t tell me at the time. And I’m glad ‘cause I was a spoilt wimp before I got sent here and manned up.” Fenrich raised an eyebrow at his use of past tense. “Besides, he wasn’t corrupt, he was only trying to help this city. It’s not our fault there were stupid laws against the way he tried to do it,” Hoodied Wannabe huffed.

“Well, luckily for you, whelp, there are also stupid laws against me punching you in the face right now. And I’m not dumb enough to get caught breaking them.” He continued scrolling on his phone even though he’d reached the end of his Pinterest feed, just to rile the kid up.

“I’m gonna tell Val you said that!”

“Go right ahead.”

“Unless you give me one of those pastry things!”

Now Fenrich had to look at him again, at the small finger pointing at his taiyaki. Not even going to begin on how stupid this conversation was getting, “You sure? They’re filled with spinach.”

Hoodied Wannabe pulled back in disgust, but said, “I-I don’t care! I eat all kinds of grown-up stuff like spinach all the time!”

Okay, new game time. “Go on then,” Fenrich said, holding out one he hadn’t bitten into yet.

Hoodied Wannabe stared at it, scowled at it even, before folding his arms. “No way. You might’ve poisoned it. I don’t trust you, remember?”

“If I’d poisoned them why would I be eating them?” Fenrich held the taiyaki out even closer, watching the kid trying to lean away without being obvious.

“Exactly so you can pretend they’re not poisoned, then get Val to eat one and kill him.” Fenrich blinked, hoping he looked only stunned by the accusation rather than panicked at this kid’s prescience. “You stay away from Val, do you hear?” Hoodied Wannabe continued, getting dramatic and point-y again. “I know you’re here to get up to no good, and I’m gonna find out who hired you, whether it was Majorita, or Void, or Carter,” Now he froze solid, “or Asagi! I’ll find out who it was and I’ll expose you to Val, dawg!”

“Did you just call me a ‘dog’?” Fenrich let his anger take over from the cold fear he was sweating inside right now.

“Wh-What?! No! I called you ‘dawg’, like ‘Yo, dawg!’” Hoodied Wannabe started backing off. “Get your damn ears checked, old timer!”

“‘Old timer’?!” Now Fenrich truly was angry, and climbed up from his seat.

The kid had already run off wailing though, back to where there would be too many other kids and most importantly Valvatorez.

Tutting, Fenrich slumped back into his seat, turning his blank phone over in his hands nervously. Glancing up at the ceiling and the feet stampeding to and fro as Valvatorez called the end of afternoon break, this could be very bad.

~DOOD~

The main room had a couple of decent TVs, something that seemed like a good idea for so many kids until the volume button wars inevitably started. There was a ton of video game consoles hooked up to them too, most of the kids having come from households with one or two they’d brought with them. It kept the whelps docile in their free time, and Valvatorez actually took an interest in the things they watched and played like a decent parent.

This evening he’d even organised a Super Smash Bros. tournament between all the kids, though encouraging fighting of any kind between the hellions seemed the worst idea imaginable to Fenrich.

Fenrich watched a few matches, particularly raising an eyebrow at the silent blue-haired girl who absolutely slayed the second match using Isabelle, before getting his chance to slip away unnoticed upstairs.

He’d paid as little interest as possible to Valvatorez telling him which kids shared what rooms during induction, but sticking his head into each open doorway it wasn’t hard to tell:

Brat-face and Sadistic Pigtails shared one room that wasn’t even a messy pigsty but looked like it was constantly being actively mutilated by its residents, patches of the carpet singed with burn marks and fist-sized dents in the wooden furniture.

Delusions and Game-Addicted shared another that looked pretty average for a couple of girls, stashed sweets and video games the only real crime going on there.

Small & Yellow shared with the blue-haired, silent girl, he was going to guess in the rabbit-themed room.

Bored Edgelord and Princess Pink Slut shared one with a split personality between his boringly neat half, cookery books aside, and hers slathered in tacky, fake-chic decorations and plastic jewellery.

Little Punk shared with that cat-loving, body-builder girl who had never caused enough trouble to get on Fenrich’s radar, the happiest-looking room if a bit scuffed up round the edges.

Which meant this very green room full of books on science and the occult, “Shit...” That Hoodied Wannabe kid shared with Kurtis.

At the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs Fenrich rushed towards Valvatorez’s room, pretending to be walking back from there. It was Valvatorez himself who had come up, catching Fenrich looking like he was returning from a simple bathroom break. “Ah, there you are, Fenrich. After this tournament is done the children want to do a teamed one by rooms, so that means you and I will be partners.”

“Do I have to?” Fenrich put up his usual front of indifference rather half-heartedly this time.

Valvatorez smirked. “I’ll be using Meta Knight, whom do you main?”

Since Fenrich had now approached him in the deserted corridor, standing over the shorter man, it was easy to put out a hand onto the wall behind Valvatorez and lean in right to the shell of his ear. “I can think of something much more fun we could do as roommates...”

He pretty much felt Valvatorez’s hot blush at the words, pulling back so he could enjoy the ruby-like red of those eyes. “I... W-Well...”

“No?” Fenrich reached out a little towards his hands and/or hip, waiting if he’d be given consent.

“I-It’s not that...” Valvatorez pulled his coat up around him, flushed face turning aside. “I’m afraid it’s not so simple...”

Fenrich pulled himself back, “Very well,” putting his hands on his waistband. When Valvatorez raised a surprised eyebrow at this, “I’m not going to force myself on you,” Fenrich explained, disgusted at the thought.

“O-Of course not. I know you wouldn’t,” Valvatorez agreed, still very flustered.

Fenrich left him be in that case, walking off towards the top of the stairs. “I main Wolf,” he finally answered. “Aren’t you coming?”

It was enough right now to have Valvatorez following at his back, debating whether Wolf was a clone fighter of Fox or not, then sharing a snide comment at the fact Bored Edgelord was literally boring enough to be maining Mario, even if he was doing a very good job at it. Valvatorez tolerated his slight cruelty and hot temper, even laughing slightly as if he found them endearing these days. He’d sit beside Fenrich on one of the sofas, closely even, without ever glancing to check he was safe. Valvatorez truly did trust him.

As Little Punk came over to tell them their first match-up though, Fenrich caught a different red eye watching them from across the room, frowning hard, and then coming to interrupt before Fenrich had a chance. “Hey, Val, we’re still on to visit Pops next weekend, right?” Hoodied Wannabe asked.

“Yes, I told the prison we were coming, Rascal.”

“Thanks.” The kid then fixed his gaze firmly on Fenrich. “I hope he doesn’t let you down.”

A slender hand came to rest on his back as Fenrich met that gaze head-on. “I’m sure Fenrich will be a fine partner for me, just as in real life.”

“Is that so?” the kid asked softly, not backing down. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Fenrich pulled back his lip on the side Valvatorez couldn’t see, baring a canine. It only made Hoodied Wannabe smile before he turned and walked away.

Chapter Text

Handling a late evening with the kids to celebrate Bored Edgelord’s 18^th birthday was so tiring Fenrich honestly wouldn’t have had the energy to proposition Valvatorez again even if he’d wanted to. Using the bathroom second, when Fenrich came back out into the small bedroom he wasn’t one bit surprised Valvatorez was already asleep in his bed, dead to the world with a stuffed sardine in his arms.

Fenrich stood over him silently, able even to reach out and let the softest tips of Valvatorez’s black hair brush against his fingertips without waking his target. There was a pillow on Fenrich’s makeshift bed that would easily be big enough, or that slim neck was so vulnerably exposed.

But the imperfectly drawn curtains let a shaft of moonlight in, Valvatorez’s sleeping face too beautiful in its radiance and shadows. His small features were almost child-like still, the same fragility that was in someone like Kurtis, the same plain and forthright openness that was in all the kids here.

Fenrich drew the curtains without Valvatorez stirring. He stood over the bed again for a while, then quietly lay down in his own blankets and sheets to sleep.

~DOOD~

That Hoodied Wannabe kid watched him from the first moment they were awake next day, particularly whenever he was near Valvatorez. Fenrich watched him back by the same measure, a silent duel everyone else was too busy to take notice of amidst the usual chaos of lessons and meals.

Come the time for physical activity in the late afternoon, today Valvatorez issued slightly different orders for the final half hour: “Prinnies, I want every surface of the kitchen cleaned from top-to-bottom inside and out. Emizel, you help Fenrich check all of the food items for anything that needs to be disposed of.” Then he clapped his hands to send them on their ways, heading off in a different direction himself.

Fenrich watched that small back disappearing around the side of the house towards the front door as the kids whooped and whined their way to the kitchen around him. He practically felt those other red eyes on him though, turning around to find Hoodied Wannabe frowning up at him from inside that green hood. Fenrich scowled back, silently walking into the kitchen with the whelp following right behind his every step.

“You do the lower cupboards and fridges,” Fenrich ordered, glad the little pipsqueak didn’t kick up a pompous huff but instead just got to work around the mostly less industrious other kids. Ignoring them, and that red-eyed stare on the back of his head, Fenrich set to opening the high cupboards and pulling out boxes of dried fruit and cereal, throwing them back in so long as the numbers on them weren’t egregiously bad.

The tedium ate away the minutes, but Fenrich’s curiosity only grew as to where Valvatorez had gone. He did leave the enclosed group home now and then to procure groceries or escort kids out to this or that in the city, but he’d always told Fenrich about such trips. What was so different this time?

Eventually all the cupboards were checked, supplies sparse enough it hadn’t taken long. The kids were fighting by squirting soap and maybe worse cleaning agents at each other but Fenrich walked out anyway into the main hall.

Those two sisters were at the slightly open front door, peeking through its crack like they were watching something good.

“Why aren’t you two helping out in the kitchen?” he started gruffly but not too loudly as he walked up behind them.

“He told his prinnies to do that, not us,” Delusions said. She noticed how Fenrich pointedly looked at her prinny hat and jacket but, “I’m only wearing these because I didn’t have any of my old clothes when I came here, not ‘cause I want to.”

“Desco wanted a jacket, but she was too small to equip it,” the little one added.

“I might be dressed like one but I’m not happy doing every little thing Valzy says like the rest of them. I’m, like, the complete opposite, an ‘unprinny’-”

“I don’t care,” Fenrich shut her up. “What are you two doing out here?”

Now the sisters grinned, getting that naughty look again. “Valzy’s getting our monthly delivery in from the food bank; Artina’s just pulled up.”

“Artina?” Fenrich questioned.

“Mr. Valzy likes Miss Artina,” Game-Addicted explained.

“She’s a nurse, and also works at the local food bank. Even though she’s super busy she still comes by all the time to see him,” Delusions added, both sisters going back to their peeping.

Fenrich shoved them aside, making space to peer out too.

A truck had come in through the gate, now parked and quiet as Valvatorez stood before it with some strange slut of a woman, skimpy white dress and even skimpier black and pink workout clothes beneath the furthest thing from a professional charity worker; she looked like the kind of bitch who went to Pilates class six times a week and sold overpriced, home-made glitter bath bombs on Etsy in her free time. She was leant forward towards him far too enticingly as he signed paperwork on a clipboard, eventually slipping the pen back into its clip. “All signed. There you go,” Valvatorez held it out to hand back.

She reached out for it, letting both their hands be on it for a moment before actually taking it back. “In that much of a hurry to get rid of me?”

“N-No, of course not!” Valvatorez hurried to assure with a flustered smile. “I-I... I just don’t want the food you’ve so kindly delivered to go off, yes! That’s all.”

She laughed. “It’s a refrigerated truck, Mr. Silly.”

“Ah. Quite right. S-So it is.” And he laughed, far more nervously.

“Why does he let her get away with being so rude to him?” Fenrich couldn’t help but growl, hand clenching on the door frame he was holding.

“Why d’you think?” Delusions asked, amused herself, while Game-Addicted made kissy noises.

“They’re not dating, are they?” Fenrich demanded. For the sake of the mission, because it was important to know your target, and all that.

“Hmm... I don’t know,” Delusions had fun drawing out. “Why? Are you jealous?”

Fenrich growled at her, “Shut up, you woefully undateable excuse for a human being; you’ll meet your death alone and forever unloved,” before returning his attention outside.

“You’re totally jealous,” she muttered, her sister giggling.

“-are heavy so make sure you get Rutile to help carry them in,” Artina was saying.  “And I got those special ingredients you were asking for too. My little gift to you.”

“How kind of you. Thank you, Artina.” Valvatorez’s smile even glowed a bit.

“Yep, they’ll be 270 HL!” She struck a cute pose in emphasis.

“I have to pay for them?!” Valvatorez changed quite suddenly to exasperation. “You work for a food bank, Artina! A charity whose whole purpose is giving out food for free!”

“Oh, it’s not the food you’re paying for! It’s a finder’s fee, because of the extra work it took me.”

He sighed, crossing his arms and putting a hand in front of his face. “...All right, fine.” He reached into a pocket of his black, skinny jeans, pulling out the money she very eagerly took straight from his hand. Valvatorez was left blushing from the contact, and Fenrich’s hand very nearly cracked the door frame he was holding.

“Oh, we had a whole load of pizza base mix get donated too,” Artina continued. “I earmarked it for you because I thought the kids could have a lot of fun making their own pizzas one evening.”

“That’s so thoughtful of you, thank you!” he answered in a sickeningly happy voice. “We didn’t have much in the way of special food for Killia’s birthday party yesterday, so I think they deserve it tonight – My charges have all been so well-behaved lately, and what with the big court case coming up...”

“Oh, that’s right, it’s nearly the end of the month. How’s he doing? Is K-”

Fenrich stormed away with a barely restrained growl, fists almost trembling. Damn the sisters giggling away behind him, damn the kids still misbehaving in the kitchen and damn Hoodied Wannabe’s red eyes that had come out to peer around the kitchen doorframe at him. He stomped his way upstairs instead, throwing open the door to Valvatorez’s room to grab what he needed.

Valvatorez was already in the kitchen by the time he came back down, brightening up from the punishment he’d been enacting on the misbehaving kids. “Ah, Fenrich! Sorry that took so long. We’re having a pizza party tonight-”

“I don’t like pizza,” Fenrich lied, grabbing some ingredients as he passed through.

“Oh,” Valvatorez accepted that, dubious as it obviously was. “Well, perhaps you can help with-”

“Do it yourself,” Fenrich growled at him, throwing open the back door.

“Fenrich-!” Both paused at the sound of a sharp bang behind them, one of the prinnies having exploded something and probably themself too in the kitchen.

Fenrich took the opportunity to kick the door shut behind him, storming off into a corner of the yard with his armful of ingredients. Crouching down in the dirt patch behind the storage shed, he took out the matches and moulds from his pocket to start cooking alone, snapping the first and second match he tried in his trembling frustration, “Damn it...!” before throwing the box down and away entirely.

~DOOD~

When Fenrich finally opened the back door again, left unlocked for him, the handle was deeply cold to the touch. He shivered, coming in after hours in the night air outside, too accustomed to silence and loneliness to find the deserted building creepy though.

His boots walked softly over its floors, avoiding the creaking spots he’d memorised on its stairs, heading along that upstairs corridor to Valvatorez’s room.

Valvatorez was exhausted asleep in his bed, an hour deep probably, and didn’t stir even as Fenrich took the time to quietly brush his teeth and clean up in the room’s small bathroom.

Tonight Fenrich drew the curtains fully first, plunging the room and Valvatorez into darkness, before he stood over that vulnerable body asleep around its stuffed sardine in bed. His hands were ready to reach out, to do this himself with a simple, clean break.

He didn’t move them though. He wanted to, but Fenrich didn’t.

Fifteen minutes into standing silently over Valvatorez the soft vibration of his phone inside his jacket’s inner pocket pulled him away, sending him out into the corridor with the door shut behind him to answer it. “What do you want, Carter?” he hissed at the lowest possible volume, spare hand covering his mouth.

“Are you inside?” Fenrich gave the softest grunt of confirmation. “I can’t afford to wait any longer. We’re doing it tonight.”

“Tonight?!”

“If you want your money, helping me pull this off successfully tonight is now your last chance.” Fenrich looked in the direction of Valvatorez’s room. “Now come let me in at the gate.”

Fenrich hesitated, the call hanging up and leaving him to answer with his actions.

He couldn’t help looking on lingeringly at Valvatorez’s room. But he turned away from its closed door to head downstairs and out through the kitchen back door.

The night air was far colder now for having been in the house, but Fenrich didn’t even pull his jacket closer around him as he trudged his way around to the front, eyeing up the gargantuan, silver car parked outside past the gate and Carter’s chrome-dome of a head waiting on the other side for him. Reaching into a pocket, Fenrich pulled out the keys to unlock the gate as quietly as possible, turning his back and walking off immediately with the hope the other man had sense to follow him.

He tried not to tut at how horrendously loud and bumbling Carter was even attempting something as simple as walking through the kitchen and downstairs. Once they got to the stairs, “Step lightly where I step,” Fenrich hissed, showing the other man clearly how to shut up and not ruin this for both of them.

He led Carter carefully to Kurtis’ room, its door open for them both walk straight through into the silent, green bedroom.

Fenrich had to walk right up to the bedside to realise though, “What-?!” Kurtis’ bed was empty, as was the other across from it as he spun around.

The light flicked on, Valvatorez stood before the room’s sole entrance with Kurtis behind him in the doorway. Valvatorez had his coat on over his sardine-print pyjamas; he’d known they were here for a good time. “Carter,” he greeted in steely hostility, not even sparing a glance for Fenrich.

“Shit.” Carter did spare a glance at Fenrich, one accusatory if he’d set this up, but the shock on Fenrich’s face seemed to convince him this hadn’t been intended. “Kurtis, what are you doing here? You don’t think you stand a chance in court, do you? You’re a smarter boy than that. Come with me and I’ll get them to drop your charges.”

“Never,” Kurtis answered, even with the concealed threat Fenrich could sense was in Carter’s offer. “Using Jennifer like that and then making me take the fall for it – You’re going down for what you did, Carter!”

“You ungrateful, little...!” Carter now turned to Valvatorez. “You’ll land him with a criminal record for life if you don’t tell him to come with me.”

“Kurtis is doing the right thing. His nobility and bravery will ensure the truth outs, however you try to frustrate it,” Valvatorez said, holding out an arm as if to shield Kurtis.

Carter stared down both of them for a moment, then took out a gun from his coat to aim at them. “Tell him to come with me,” he repeated calmly, wholly serious.

Where the kid’s eyes obviously widened slightly in fear, “Kurtis, stay behind me,” Valvatorez instructed, his resolve only seeming to grow in defiance if anything.

“Tell me where those two are,” Carter asked of Kurtis.

Kurtis tutted, actually brave enough to glare down his long nose at the man aiming a gun at him. “I knew you didn’t really care about me at all, only finding out where they are,” he spat, voice then rising, “You won’t be seeing Gordon and Jennifer until they’re in the witness box testifying against you in court!”

Fenrich started looking back and forth, getting lost as Carter now switched again to trying Valvatorez. “Tell me where they are before I shoot him.”

“I didn’t tell Valvatorez, or anyone else here. I’m the only one who knows how to contact them,” Kurtis answered. “He advised me you’d try something like this, Carter.”

“Damn you, Valvatorez,” Carter snarled at him, brandishing the gun again in his anger. “This is why it’s finally time to get revenge on you as well! First you and your little brats thwart my redevelopment plans for this downtown cesspool and now – I was so close to cracking that boy until you swept in and spoilt everything!”

“‘Spoilt everything’?! By saving a lad you were having police officers detain without adequate food or sleep-?!”

“You keep ruining my attempts to save this rotten city!” Carter’s gun now took aim clearly at Valvatorez. “Tell me where they are, Kurtis, or I’ll shoot him.”

“Don’t tell him,” Valvatorez said.

But even he could sense Kurtis silently hesitating behind him. “You know I’ll do it,” Carter confirmed. “You told him what I did, didn’t you? He could also testify against me, that’s why I hired this assassin to kill him.” Fenrich flinched back as the attention in the room turned to him for the first time, Valvatorez meeting his eyes for a second with that same steely frown he was regarding Carter with. “Whatever little friends you’ve told here,” Carter continued scornfully, “the court won’t believe delinquents like that. But you know I have to dispose of Valvatorez. Unless you cooperate with me of course.”

Kurtis really was hesitating. But Valvatorez was blocking his way, whatever he might be tempted to do alone.

“Did you get cold feet about getting rid of this street trash tyrant?” Carter asked to Fenrich, who froze unable to give an answer. “You know, I’m actually glad you did,” he said, pulling the trigger himself.

Valvatorez gasped and buckled slightly as Kurtis shouted for him, hand wrapping around his thigh where his pale fabric was lost within seconds to dark blood pouring out from between his fingers, coating them thickly enough to drip off at the tips. His face contorted in an excruciating wince and breathing absolutely ragged, the impossibility of a man remained standing though without support, even straightening up as much as his grip on his thigh would allow.

Lights were coming on now out in the corridor. Removing his prinny jacket, Kurtis ripped off the sleeve of his pyjama shirt underneath as Fenrich began to hear desperate but quietened voices outside the room.

“You want his death on your conscience, Kurtis?” Carter asked as Kurtis took the removed sleeve, wrapping it around Valvatorez’s wounded leg from behind.

“I-I’m fine, lad,” Valvatorez tried to reassure, allowing Kurtis to tie the sleeve and pull it tight to try and halt the blood flowing from the wound.

“If you’d just cooperated with me sooner, Kurtis, none of this would have had to happen,” Carter persisted. “It won’t just be Valvatorez that has to die now, all your little friends here are witnesses too thanks to this tonight.” The rapid escalation was bringing a frantic panic to Kurtis’ face as he tried to keep up, to think of a way out of this aside from the one Carter was presenting.

Fenrich too, “Are you insane?!” finally had to speak up. “One murder and a kidnapping we could have gotten away with, but there’s no way we’re getting out of murdering twelve people!”

Carter ignored him, “It’s all up to you, Kurtis,” speaking over Valvatorez’s assurances not to give in, “Anyone who gets hurt or killed tonight is all because of you,” knowing this was the strategy to press home.

And in his state, shaking and terrified, Kurtis was on that verge of giving in.

“Don’t listen to him, Kurtis, plip!” a small voice called from out in the corridor though.

“Whatever that sack of crap does isn’t your fault!” shouted another bratty one.

“You gotta stay strong, bro!” cheered another punk’s.

“Shut up and stay out of this, you street rats!” Carter yelled.

“Don’t talk to my friends- No,” Kurtis corrected, “my family like that! They may be a meddlesome bunch,” he scorned fondly before his sharp eyes became determined again, “but at least they genuinely want me for who I am. As soon as you realised I’d be too wise for your schemes you fostered Jennifer to give to the gangs instead.”

Fenrich pulled back slightly, turning to Carter. “I thought you were trying to get rid of the gangs.”

“Stay out of this,” Carter snapped dismissively at him. “You’re not necessary anymore.”

Fenrich couldn’t help his lip pulling back in restrained anger, glancing at Carter’s gun. “He’s not going to get rid of the gangs,” Kurtis drew his attention; “he handed his own daughter over to them to get her and Captain Gordon killed just so he could start a war on them using the police, but even that’s only so he can force them to obey him to survive it; all he wants is to control them-”

“Shut up!” Carter raised the gun again.

Fenrich’s hand came slamming down on his though, crushing it so hard even though a forefinger was on the trigger Carter was unable to bend his finger enough to pull it. Carter’s eyes were wide with fear when they looked up at Fenrich looming over him, face cast in shadow by the light above with only his golden eyes burning.

Squeezing even harder until the gun dropped from that twisted hand, “You piece of shit,” Fenrich delivered a triple strike to head, stomach and groin, for good measure, that sent Carter flying back, crumpling straight to the floor. Fenrich crouched down to assess he was sadly unconscious and unable to feel the pain of it sadly though.

Another body collapsed and hit the floor, Valvatorez falling down completely slack onto the bloodied carpet beneath him.

“Val!” Kurtis was first to his side, adjusting him into a slightly safer position on his side where it was very easy to see Valvatorez was out cold and very, very pale, covered in a sheen of sweat.

“A-Are you still there, Artina?!” Hoodied Wannabe came running into the room in his hoodie over pyjamas, a phone to one ear. “Val p-passed out! He-He’s bleeding all over the floor-! He was shot in the thigh, just through the flesh and the bullet’s not in there! Kurtis wrapped something around it but it’s s-still bleeding!” he assessed with the other boy’s help. “It won’t stop bleeding!”

Artina. A nurse.

Fenrich walked over while the kid was still babbling more details into the phone, snatching it from him. “Bring equipment for a blood transfusion.”

The female voice on the other end answered, “But he won’t-!”

“Bring it!” Fenrich roared. “We’ll use my blood.” Cutting the call and throwing the phone onto one of the beds in the room, “Move!” he ordered of the two boys, swooping down to lift up the incredibly light body of Valvatorez in his arms. “Get towels now!” he shouted at the kids who had come to linger and block the doorway to the room, forcing them back through intimidation before shoving his way through physically to carry Valvatorez to his own bedroom.

Fenrich ignored the blood already running thickly down his arm, supporting Valvatorez with one arm long enough to remove his coat. The kids were quick enough to have a pile of towels by the time he was ready to lay the man down on his bed on them, ordering some of the kids to hold the wounded leg up vertically to try and halt the blood flow while pressing a towel to the wound.

“One of you go down and wait for her at the gate!” Fenrich ordered, throwing open the curtains to the sight of an empty nighttime street outside aside from Carter’s garishly large car.

“Yes, plip!”

“Will she call the cops?” Fenrich asked, glancing away from the bed briefly to where Carter was still probably unconscious in the other room.

“Artina? N-No, that’s why I called her,” Hoodied Wannabe answered from the bed, having volunteered along with Kurtis given they were already covered in blood.

Fenrich nodded, knowing the kids were smart enough he could focus on Valvatorez again. Removing one leather glove, he lay the back of his hand against a far too cold, clammy forehead. Pressing into the pulse point where the neck met the corner of the jaw, Valvatorez’s pulse was weak and he was still yet to stir. “Idiot...!” Fenrich pulled himself back, facing away from all the kids, waiting for the one who could actually save him.

~DOOD~

After fifteen excruciatingly silent minutes, the only brief respites when one of the kids would speak up to say the bleeding was slowing or Valvatorez’s pulse was still there, an odiously hot pink, little buggy of a car – The thing had angel wing fenders! – pulled up finally outside the gate.

“She’s here! Move!” Fenrich shouted at the kids thronging the room, particularly the all-important path between the door and Valvatorez’s bed.

They did actually listen to him and shift aside, especially at the sound of footsteps running up the staircase out in the corridor.

Small & Yellow came running in ahead of a rushing Artina, pink hair loose but still dressed ridiculously scantily in camisole and shorts pyjamas. “Is it still bleeding?” she asked, setting down a bag at the bedside and pulling on clean medical gloves.

“A little, but only sluggishly,” Hoodied Wannabe answered.

“How long ago was he shot?” she asked, Kurtis lifting the towel pressed to the wound briefly so she could check.

“About twenty minutes ago.”

Artina now set to taking Valvatorez’s pulse from his neck by counting under her breath, also feeling his temperature and heartbeat at the same time.

“Will he be okay, Miss Artina?” Game-Addicted spoke up, too young not to come up to the bedside and interrupt. She had a closed 3DS in her hands, one that had been silent this whole time even as she gripped it tightly.

“With his condition we have about two hours before his body starts shutting down on him,” she answered, pulling away and unzipping her bag. “If we can get enough blood into him before then he’ll be fine.” She pulled out the clear plastic tubes and bags of a blood transfusion set, looking around for somewhere to hang it.

Fenrich saw how she startled at the sight of him, the first time she’d actually seen him he realised. He snatched one of the bags from her hands, hanging it on the corner of a nearby bookcase if she wasn’t going to, before throwing off his jacket.

Since he was obviously the man who had spoken on the phone, “He’s going to need a lot of-”

“I don’t care. Do it.” Before she could open her mouth again and waste more time, “I’m type O, universal.”

Artina nodded and shut up, taking out medical alcohol and cotton wool. “You’re going to want to sit down for this, Mr. Biker.”

“My name is ‘Fenrich’.” But he took a seat anyway.

She swabbed down his forearm to sterilise it. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Biker.”

He growled, but she jabbed him with the end of the transfusion tube before he could snap again. Wincing with what dignity he could keep, he took solace watching the transparent tube fill with rising blood from his forearm before looking away from everyone in the room, letting her do the rest.

“You should eat something to keep your strength up,” she told him, then the kids, “Could one of you-?”

“I’ve got something,” Fenrich cut her off, pulling out a wrapped package from his pocket with the arm not giving blood. Opening up the pizza-filled taiyakis inside, he hadn’t had the stomach for them earlier really; now mangled by his pocket and long-cold they were hardly any more appealing. For Valvatorez’s sake though he bit into the cold taiyaki, glancing again at the blood leaving his body and beginning to head down the other side into Valvatorez’s deathly pale forearm.

Chapter Text

By morning most of the kids had returned to their rooms at some point to rest, even if he didn’t know how much sleep any of them would have managed. Kurtis was the one kid who hadn’t, seating himself at the end of Valvatorez’s bed and assisting Artina whenever she needed something. He’d been trembling himself for hours but the light painkillers Artina had prescribed meant he had now nodded off against the wall beside the bed end, lanky body slumped like a marionette with the strings cut . Fenrich really didn’t feel in any position to say anything to the kid.

Fenrich himself had nodded off too at some point after he was done giving all the blood he could, the fatigue of how much he’d lost. Artina had cleaned and dressed Valvatorez’s wound, and never behaved as if there was anything to worry about, so all must have been relatively well.

Dawn woke Fenrich, the curtains having never been drawn back again. Kurtis was still dozing, but Valvatorez-

“Wakey, wakey, Mr. Sleepyhead,” Artina said, poking him in the cheek for good measure.

Valvatorez had already groaned to make his consciousness known, but now began to move very weakly as well, finally opening his eyes. After a moment severely dazed and confounded, his voice croaked out, “How’s-?”

She pointed him quietly to the end of the bed, Valvatorez able to lift his head just enough to see Kurtis, before it dropped back into the pillow from exhaustion. After a moment’s rest it rolled to the side, spotting the blood transfusion tube feeding into his forearm. “No...” he reached for it weakly, trying to pull it out even in his state. “I won’t-”

Fenrich’s hand clamped down on his, pushing it back. “It’s my blood, and I wouldn’t give it to anyone but you. Stop being difficult and just take it,” he said, watching that Valvatorez would behave before stumbling back to his own chair to rest.

“You should do as he says, Mr. Vampire,” Artina concurred. “You would have died without that blood Mr. Biker gave you.”

He couldn’t bear the way Valvatorez’s eyes were looking only at him, or the soft way he said, “Thank you...” After some quiet breathing and a little shifting about, Valvatorez’s voice asked, “How’s the wound? Will I be able to walk on it?”

“You might need a cane for a week or two, but nothing’s broken,” Artina told him.

“Good,” Valvatorez sighed with relief. “So long as I can look after the kids.”

She tutted. “You should look after yourself for a change, Mr. Instructor.”

He chuckled. “You sound like Fenrich.”

Fenrich glanced over, but turned away again before that woman could get a proper look at him.

They were interrupted anyway by, “What happened to my trousers?” Valvatorez asked with a comical new degree of clarity.

“I had to take them off to clean and dress your wound,” Artina took a little joy in teasing, while Fenrich glanced at where the bloody pyjama bottoms had been tossed across the room. “It’s a shame the wound wasn’t a little higher or I would’ve gotten to take the rest off as well.”

“Ar-Artina!”

She giggled far too happily, casually pointing out, “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Fenrich stiffened, hating the adorable sound of mortification that came out of Valvatorez which Artina got to laugh at. The whole exchange woke Kurtis anyway, which was some small mercy when he enthusiastically moved round to the bedside to show he was fine all thanks to Valvatorez.

The whole lot of them were going to be in here any moment now Valvatorez was up. Fenrich shot an unnoticed, dirty glance at Artina before quietly lifting himself out of his chair, trudging across the room and out into the silence of the upstairs corridor.

No one even noticed as he made his way downstairs, quietly opening the front door to slip out into the cool, dawn air. His bike was pulled up out the front, and the gate was open ready. “Shit...” All his stuff was still in Valvatorez’s room though.

He slumped down to sit on the concrete porch near his bike. Artina would leave at some point now her patient was better, the kids would be running wild in the house as ever and eventually Valvatorez would fall asleep to rest. Fenrich could wait.

He watched the slivers of sunlight begin to illuminate the city streets out beyond that chain-link fence he’d been surrounded by for weeks now. It was quiet out there, each person making their own solitary way wherever they were going. Far from and nothing like this strange, little place.

~DOOD~

A police car rolled up before too long in the early morning, Fenrich having already had the forethought to hide himself and his bike down the unused side of the building.

The green-haired four-eyes who got out looked a strange one, but all the kids came running out with such enthusiasm they must know him. Eavesdropping, Fenrich soon gathered this Christo was a graduate of the group home – “I can’t believe he ended up being a police officer,” Princess Pink Slut mentioning to Artina – and therefore an officer they could actually trust with Carter until the trial. Apparently Brat-face and Sadistic Pigtails had taken Carter out to the storage shed to have fun with during the whole palaver, but Carter still seemed to be one piece when it came time for collection sadly.

“And Gordon and Jennifer are still safe?” Christo was asking as he prepared to leave, stood out the front with the rest.

“I checked using the Thursday AI app Jennifer made. They’re fine,” Kurtis answered.

“That’s good. I know what it’s like to have false charges on your name right now, Kurtis, but we’ll make sure your name’s cleared come the trial, okay?” he reassured, before sounding as if he turned to Valvatorez. “Do you want to press charges for last night?”

“No, I have faith Kurtis’ case alone will be sufficient to see justice done,” Valvatorez answered. “And I wouldn’t want to get Fenrich in any trouble.”

“Well, that’s fine. It shouldn’t be hard to convince Carter it’s in his best interests not to make a fuss about what he tried to do here,” Christo said, “but who’s Fenrich?”

“He’s Valzy’s new boyfriend!” Delusions made a point of butting in very quickly.

“Boyfriend?” Christo questioned, chuckling. “Well, that certainly took long enough!”

“You got a boyfriend and didn’t even tell me?” Artina joined in, sounding far too intrigued.

“Lass, do stop spreading such inaccurate blatherskite,” Valvatorez scolded, and there was the sound of a tongue being comically stuck out at him. “Fenrich is a volunteer who’s been helping here, that’s all.”

“He was working for Carter though,” Hoodied Wannabe spoke up.

“He was?” Artina questioned, sounding quite uncertain now.

“Granted, Rascal,” Valvatorez responded. “But he came through for us in the end, which shows he’s a comrade of ours now, whyever he was originally here.”

Fenrich shrunk up tighter where he sat against the wall, especially when Hoodied Wannabe said, “Or maybe he just realised Carter wasn’t going to pay him anymore and wanted to try and get off the hook by saving you.”

“Rascal...” Valvatorez began in warning.

“Where’s he gone anyway?” Delusions asked. “I don’t see his bike.”

“Fenrich’s business is his own, lass,” Valvatorez told her. “Now all of you get inside and clean up that kitchen – My word, I’m injured for one morning and you all can’t even make breakfast without somehow getting butter on the ceiling!” Someone yelped a little in surprise. “Yes, Zeroken, I did see that!”

It sounded as if they all dispersed at that point, Christo’s police car driving off with Carter while the rest went back inside. Artina’s car was still here, Fenrich noted, probably invited in for some thank-you breakfast together by Valvatorez.

Fenrich let his arms hang down from where his elbows were resting on his knees, eyes struggling to stay open as another wave of wooziness washed over him. His pockets were empty though, and he still hadn’t had that chance to sneak in yet.

He’d been through worse than this though, far worse. He could continue waiting.

~DOOD~

Finally, after far too much time spent inside with Valvatorez no doubt, Artina came out and left in her ridiculous car.

All the kids soon came out into the yard, probably so Valvatorez could get some rest inside. Or at least he certainly wasn’t out there watching them given the sorts of things the kids were getting up to without being shouted at.

Fenrich headed in through the front door, the house as silent as his own movements through it heading upstairs cautiously. Every room was empty, only Valvatorez resting asleep in his as predicted.

Having never really unpacked his life into the place it was easy for Fenrich to gather what possessions he had back into that one bag he slung over a shoulder. He didn’t let himself cast a glance at Valvatorez, only looking at the blood stains that had dripped across the carpet and corridor flooring in all that mess last night.

The large, dark stain of Valvatorez’s blood on the carpet of Kurtis and Hoodied Wannabe’s room was the only thing he paused at, before putting his head down to walk out and leave.

His bag strapped onto the back of his bike’s seat, he took hold of its handlebars to wheel it silently towards the open gate. Sunlight had flooded the city outside by now, far past the zenith of the sky and heading down towards the day’s end. Pausing ready to throw his leg over his bike-

“Fenrich!”

He held out, trying to pretend he hadn’t heard Valvatorez’s voice calling to him or even ignore it. But Fenrich looked back, seeing the whole damn lot of kids were there too out on the front step behind Valvatorez who’d hobbled down on a cane, that billowing and tattered coat on over a baggy shirt and sardine-patterned shorts. “You can charge Carter for what he did last night, to help Kurtis’ case,” Fenrich said. “Don’t worry about the police finding me.” If he really had meant that anyway.

“You’re leaving?” Valvatorez asked, and the disbelief actually made Fenrich blink.

He hesitated, wondering how clearly he needed to clarify to the airhead, “I was hired to kidnap Kurtis and to kill you.”

“Well, yes,” Valvatorez seemed to understand that much. “But you didn’t.”

He almost felt physically pained by how ridiculous this was. Looking to Kurtis the kid didn’t seem to have one shred of a problem either. “I fell for Carter’s plans too once upon a time. You and I, we’re not that dissimilar,” he coolly assessed. “Besides, you offered to let me have a ride on your bike sometime,” Kurtis added more cheerfully.

“That was... just so I could get a chance to kidnap you,” Fenrich broke to him.

“Oh.” He stood up a little straighter, scratching at his green hair. “So I don’t get to have a ride then?”

Was that kid biologically related to Valvatorez or something? Fenrich sighed. “I only ever volunteered here so I could get a better chance to strike,” he cleared up for Valvatorez. “Everything I did here was just so I could carry out my mission and get paid.”

“Even teaching me how to use Wolf in Smash?” Little Punk asked.

“And teaching Usalia how to make a Pinterest feed of new carrot recipes, plip?”

“You got way too into dodgeball for that to be true, liar!” Brat-face accused, pointing at his still slightly black eye.

“You washed Usagi...” blue-haired girl’s bunny spoke in front of her mouth, spot-cleaned of the jam stains it had gotten the other morning.

“I still don’t trust you!” Hoodied Wannabe wanted to make clear, huffing as he shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets. “But your taste in music is abysmal, judging by the lousy stuff I’ve heard playing from your phone, so if you’re nice and apologise I’ll introduce you to some way better tunes.”

“Plus you haven’t even gone on your first date with Valzy yet!” Delusions enthused, something all the kids suddenly seemed to get behind.

Fenrich grunted in irritation, while Valvatorez at least blushed. “He’s not interested,” Fenrich answered her.

“How do you know that?” she retorted.

“Because he turned me down,” if the lass insisted on dragging all this out into the open.

The kids were actually a little scandalised as they all looked to Valvatorez. “That’s not true,” he answered himself. “It’s simply... complicated.”

“Because you like that nurse bitch,” Fenrich growled, turning back around to his bike to get out of here before he had to hear it.

“Artina?” Valvatorez sounded surprised behind him. “You think I’m interested in her?”

“Please,” Fenrich scoffed.

“Artina was the nurse who looked after me when I first fell ill,” Valvatorez’s voice spoke up strongly, forbidding Fenrich to leave until he had heard this. “She was the first person to show me affection and the experience of friendship, so she is special to me. And very well, I do have feelings for her, yes.” Fenrich flinched, turning back to glare, but finding Valvatorez was glaring at him much more strongly. “But I will not have you judging me on involuntary emotions I have no say over. A person may only be judged by their actions, and I promise you I have never and will never act upon them. I have no desire to, in fact.”

“...Why?” Fenrich asked, feeling that utterly bamboozled feeling once again trying to deal with the reality that was Valvatorez.

“After that initial, rather intense meeting, as I got to know her truly as an ally I realised we are too different as people, with too different places in the world. I do not want to spend my life with her, despite my feelings.”

“Most people consider romantic feelings are for acting upon without thinking about such practical matters.” Fenrich actually chuckled. “You really are ridiculous...”

Valvatorez could only shrug. “I happen to know her interests lie with another anyway; she has devoted herself to trying to salvage the life of our ex-mayor’s manipulator Nemo after his fall from grace.”

“Him?!” That demented ex-judge who’d been stricken so ceremoniously from the bar? “You’re far better-looking than he is!”

Valvatorez reared back slightly with pink cheeks, while the kids laughed and Fenrich averted his gaze.

“If that’s the case,” Fenrich hoped to get things back onto a less embarrassing topic, “what’s so ‘complicated’?” he had to know.

“Oh. Well...” Valvatorez hesitated awkwardly, “I’m not certain I’d be a very satisfying paramour to pursue. After all, I never have time for dates or...” He cleared his throat politely instead for the sake of small ears listening, “what with caring for all these children. Plus I’ve... never been in any form of relationship before,” he admitted, slender hands fidgeting on his cane. “It’s not so simple for me to just...” he trailed off, averting his gaze high into the sky rather than continue discussing such a private matter in this situation.

“I told you he was still a virgin,” Sadistic Pigtails said with glee.

“So what?” Brat-face huffed. “Just ‘cause you hooked up with that Flonne chick. Big deal.”

“Indeed, there’s nothing to be ashamed of in never having had sexual relations with another person, regardless of one’s age,” Valvatorez said in all seriousness.

Fenrich stared flatly at Valvatorez’s unashamed face, because seriously? “That’s why you...?” He sighed, face-palming with a groan.

“Seriously, Valzy,” Delusions started with him too. “If you want some alone time with Fenfen all you have to do is ask – We’ll be good!”

“Absolutely not!” Valvatorez returned to form. “Even trying to sleep for half an hour, I’m genuinely amazed the yard is still in one piece from the sounds of what you all were doing!” Every kid winced slightly, the reaction of the busted. “I can’t imagine the place would even still be standing when we got back if Fenrich and I went out for something as simple as a meal together!”

Fenrich wasn’t going to dispute that. “I don’t particularly care for dates anyway,” he wanted to clear up, which Valvatorez looked glad about. But, in that case, “You should know... I was only trying to seduce you as part of my mission,” Fenrich forced himself to admit. “...At first.” He wanted to leave it at that, waiting for Valvatorez to say something. But Fenrich couldn’t wait long enough before having to say, “I... have come to genuinely like you, however...”

“Fenfen’s such a tsundere!” he heard Delusions laugh, but he couldn’t face looking anywhere near Valvatorez’s direction right now.

Valvatorez didn’t scold her. Instead he only asked, “Are you going to stay?”

Fenrich tried to hold out, but he looked up at that frail pipsqueak of an instructor surrounded by his throng of even more ridiculous kids. Every single one of them was looking to him, waiting on his answer. Dappled in the shadows of the chain-link fence, those prinny hats sat like a family across such a strange mix of heads, they had all come to see if he was going to stay or not. Fenrich sighed hard, rubbing his nails against his scalp, “Damn it...” before grabbing the handlebar of his bike to drag it back round towards the home. He still barked at all the kids who came rushing forward to group-hug him, and at Valvatorez for daring to chuckle so fondly at it, but damn it he slung his bag onto his shoulder ready to take back upstairs.

“Excellent!” Valvatorez declared, throwing out his arms and his coat with it. “I had been intending to make this an additional birthday present to Killia and celebration after Kurtis’ trial, but I think this evening is far more deserving of the special treat I have planned!” As the kids cheered, and Fenrich groaned about whatever he’d gotten himself into now, “The moulds I ordered arrived, and I had Artina bring us enough ingredients that we can all try making taiyaki tonight!”

“All right, two food parties in a row!” Zeroken cheered.

“You’re having vegetables with them, Zeroken,” Valvatorez cut that fantasy quickly down to size.

“Damn it.”

“Now, it’s my understanding a taiyaki can be filled with whatever one desires,” Valvatorez continued, looking to Fenrich to confirm.

“Traditionally it’s sweet red bean paste, but you can do other sweet things like chocolate or custard, or savoury things like meat.”

“I want chocolate!” Fuka yelled.

“Desco too!”

“In that case,” Valvatorez explained, “Fenrich and Killia, you take everyone out to buy whatever fillings they want to put in theirs.” He reached into a pocket of his coat, handing over some money to Fenrich with a bit of a frown. “Try and stretch this, it’s all that’s left for this month.”

Fenrich slightly scorned the pitiful amount placed in his palm. “If you ever want me to murder that idiot council warden, just say the word.”

“Kurtis,” Killia spoke up as the younger kids started getting far too excited about the tiny field trip, “you should stay here to rest and look after Val.” Kurtis nodded, even if Valvatorez wanted to object he was fine. “What should I pick up for you?”

Thinking momentarily, “Get me some spinach. I saw Fenrich eating it the other day and wanted to try my own Spanish twist on it,” he decided.

“What about you?” Fenrich supposed he should ask Valvatorez.

“Do you seriously need to ask what he’s going to put in his?” Fuka pointed out though, and she was right, it was a stupid question.

“Right,” Valvatorez broke in, “everyone, go get changed into suitable clothes for town and get thinking what you’ll use as your filling.” Everyone seemed to unanimously decide what they were wearing right now was fine, as teenagers do. “Kurtis and I will get the kitchen ready while you’re gone.”

“Know where to go?” Fenrich asked Killia, who nodded. “Right, anyone who gets lost is getting left to fend for themselves,” he told the kids, tossing his bag to the floor by Valvatorez to take inside for him. “Get moving already.” His long legs made no compromise for the many shorter ones that had to follow him as they headed out onto the streets together.

~DOOD~

“They’re not really tai-yaki if they’re not sea bream-shaped,” Fenrich did want to point out as he leered over Valvatorez’s... interesting order of moulds.

“Very well, we’re making iwashi-yaki then,” Valvatorez corrected, if Fenrich was going to quibble, distributing the sardine-shaped moulds amongst the kids.

“These are going to be way harder to fill than nice, flat ones,” Fuka complained of the rather thin shape.

“Should Usalia start boiling her carrots ready to purée now, plip?”

“I think my hot dogs are going to be too long for these moulds, bro...”

Valvatorez looked to Fenrich. Oh hell no, Fenrich tried to convey as he met the expectant hope there about him leading this cookery class. But given every set of eyes in the room was looking to him when he glanced round, “Fine,” he sighed. “But I’m only going to show you all once so pay attention.”

One demonstration later, which had kept the kids miraculously quiet for the most part, they were all back to dicking around and needing assistance.

The ones that wanted to burn what they made could go ahead and mess their own taiyakis up; Valvatorez seemed to be doing what he could to prevent Laharl and Etna’s disaster zone from sucking in further victims, and Fenrich would leave him to that.

“Do we need to add anything else before we purée them, Mr. Fenrich?” Rutile was asking as she showed him her pot of boiled strawberries, a much more enviable task.

“I guess you should add some sugar if you want it to be sweet,” he shrugged.

“I won’t add too much, to keep it healthy,” she decided far too purely as she reached up to get the sugar down for herself, before handing it to Usalia beside her.

Who promptly up-ended the rest of the bag into her pot. “Usalia will make the sweetest taiyaki the world has ever seen, plip!” Her funeral, Fenrich shook his head.

“How do we purée it, Mr. Fenrich?” Rutile asked.

“Is there a potato masher or...?” he started looking through cupboards and drawers with them.

Around the counter next to them, “Where are you going to go after the trial, Kurtis?” Emizel asked, spooning out chocolate spread ready to drop into the centre of his frying taiyaki. “They won’t make you go back to live with Carter, right?”

“No way! I’m making them un-foster me from him, Jennifer too,” Kurtis said, lifting up his plate of half-chopped spinach to avoid contamination from one of Zeroken’s flying hot dog chunks. “Gordon said he’ll adopt Jennifer. He offered to adopt me too if I wanted, but I guess it’s lucky for you guys I’ve decided my place is here instead.”

“Good. Even though you try way too hard at the ‘cool big brother’ thing, you’re the only one aside from Zeroken around here with a decent taste in music, and even he listens to way too many video game OSTs,” Emizel said, Fenrich finally finding two potato mashers that would do the job.

“Hey, the Pokémon Sword/Shield OST slaps, don’t try and deny it, bro,” Zeroken objected, pointing his knife for emphasis which sent another chunk of hot dog flying.

One that landed right in Emizel’s latest chocolate spread filling. “Dammit, Zeroken! Learn to use a damn knife, would you?!” He grabbed a handful of Kurtis’ spinach, despite protests, throwing it back at Zeroken.

Which Fenrich watched totally miss and end up all over Seraphina’s honey-filled taiyakis, although presently their owner was distracted by, “What are you making, Killia?”

“I wanted to try a couple of fillings: A variation on the traditional sweet adzuki bean paste with agave syrup and finely diced apple, then a savoury variety using red kidney beans, chopped parsley and fresh-squeezed lemon juice,” he explained, dicing apples like a demon all the while.

“I’m sure they’ll both be amazing,” she flattered. “Everything you make is always wonderful.”

“Thanks. I still need to improve though if I’m going to pass the entrance exam for Mr. Champloo’s Culinary College.”

“You’ll still allow me to move out with you if you get in this year, right? Even though I haven’t secured an apprenticeship for myself just yet.”

“Of course. It’ll be helpful to have someone else to help look after the place, since I’ll have to find part-time work to support myself."

“Good, because- Who threw vegetables all over my taiyaki?!” she finally noticed, then where they must have come from. “Kurtis!”

“Don’t look at me, it was Emizel.”

“Hey, don’t rat me out, dawg! Bros before hoes!”

“What did you just call me, you little pre-pubescent-!”

“Oh no! Mr. Fenrich!” He was actually loath to turn away from the impending battle royale of entertainment, but Rutile had yanked very hard on his sleeve, wanting to show him the bottom of her metal pot she’d managed to smash a massive dent into with her potato masher. “I didn’t mean to!”

He sighed, wondering if maybe, “Could you try hitting it from the other side to smash the dent back in?” She looked uncertain, but before he could watch her try-

“Is the chocolate burning, Big Sis?” Desco asked along with the distinct smell of burning.

“Chocolate doesn’t burn!” Fuka insisted. “Chocolate just melts when it gets hot, that’s all the smell is!”

Leaning over, “No, that’s burning,” Fenrich could easily tell as her fruitless stirring struggled to get blackening milk chocolate off the sides of her saucepan quick enough. “Mainly because that’s not how you melt chocolate.”

“Whaddya mean it’s not how to melt chocolate?” Fuka huffed. “It’s in a saucepan on heat, what else are you meant to do?”

Grabbing another saucepan set aside for Desco’s white chocolate, he filled it with water under the tap, dropped a plastic bowl in and shoved that on another burner for them. “There. Put the chocolate in that bowl.”

“Huh.” Fuka stared into it, not that she’d admit any fault with her own method. “Good thing I bought all that extra chocolate for later.”

“Next time let’s melt marshmallows in too!” Desco cheered.

So long as they were the ones washing up the resultant mess, “Knock yourselves out.” He returned to see how the un-denting had gone, passing by that blue-haired girl he nearly didn’t even notice busying away silently. Pausing, “What are you making?” he was actually interested to ask.

She turned aside to let him see the bowl of extra-thick double cream and a plate she was currently crushing up some dark flecks that smelt of vanilla on.

Given the empty tub of cream and packet of vanilla beans on the side, “Did you make that all from scratch yourself?”

She nodded, the bunny held between her elbows nodding along with her.

“That... smells really good.” Her bowl of pale golden batter was all ready too beside her moulds like she lived in some bubble immune to the rest of the kitchen.

“Usagi... will give you some...” her stuffed rabbit spoke very quietly.

“Thank you,” Fenrich said, stepping away from the surreal experience back into the familiar chaos of the rest of the kitchen.

He chose to deviate most importantly to the unattended taiyaki cooking on one of the stoves, taking the nearly over-cooked bottom halves off the heat to look around for the owner. Seeing the chopped bodies of cooked sardines lying ready beside though was answer enough, and with a fond huff Fenrich picked up the first to lay inside the centre of the abandoned taiyaki on their owner’s behalf.

Continuing through the others, he at least had the entertainment of watching Valvatorez trying to keep Laharl from overfilling his moulds with an unnecessary amount of bright red batter – Had the kid just picked food colouring for his filling? Dear Lord. But all those E-numbers would explain one or two things – whilst juggling with keeping Etna from eating all the sweets she’d bought to fill hers with straight from the packet.

After arduous victory, at least for now, Valvatorez seemed to finally remember his own taiyaki with quite the panicked start. The relief that washed through him at seeing Fenrich stood over them made Fenrich smirk slightly, glad as Valvatorez came up at his side. “Thank you, Fenrich.”

“I’m sure there’s some wider lesson to be learnt here about not taking care of the kids at the expense of yourself, if only you were able to grasp it,” Fenrich snarked fondly, laying in the final sardine. “I’ve finished filling them. Do you want to pour over the top batter and close the moulds?”

“Ah, yes!” Valvatorez enthused, taking back the reins from Fenrich. “What filling are you making? Your favourite, I presume?”

“Aside from those cheese ones I made for the demonstration I haven’t actually had a chance to make any of my own,” he admitted, supposing he might as well also admit, “I’ve never had a favourite filling actually. I’ve always just satisfied myself with whatever is convenient.”

“Well, perhaps all that will change today when you taste my iwashiyaki!”

Fenrich chuckled. “Perhaps it will...”

After another half an hour of cooking and chaos, and one triggering of the smoke alarm, finally the call went up, “Go wash your hands, children! Fenrich and I will set up the feast outside!”

“I get no choice in assisting you, hm?” Fenrich play-snarked as he picked up the first trays of taiyaki to carry out to the large, family picnic table.

Valvatorez chuckled behind him, bringing bowls of fruit and vegetables to go with them. “You agreed to stay, Fenrich. As a proud and noble instructor’s assistant I’m afraid this is your job description now.”

“I knew I should have read the terms and conditions more closely.”

He was soon placed on herding duty instead, keeping the starving and troublesome kids inside as Valvatorez finished arranging the food outside with far too much fastidiousness. Still, when he was finally called to let them all run out Fenrich could appreciate the real effort Valvatorez had gone to piling up every person’s taiyaki, appetising or disaster, into one great mountain at the centre of the table, all surrounded by tastefully arranged plates of salad, each one unique and tailored to each child’s tastes from memory. Before the whole thing ended up a god-awful mess they’d be the ones cleaning up, perhaps too swept up in such a warm smell of food and late afternoon sunshine, Fenrich pulled out his phone to take a photo as the kids started digging in.

But of all things when he came over to show it, Valvatorez merely clucked his tongue. “You’re not in it, Fenrich.”

His amber eyes widened for a second, but then he huffed, “Fine,” climbing up on the end of one of the benches and switching the camera to selfie-mode.

“Everyone say ‘Sardine’!” Valvatorez called.

It was met with a mix of full-mouthed compliance and ‘hell no’s that made for the most graceless photo possible, but what better could you expect from this lot?

“What’s wrong, bro?” Zeroken asked the hesitating Emizel beside him, hand outstretched to the mountain but no taiyaki on his plate yet. “Don’t you want any?”

“I don’t wanna pick one of Val’s sardine ones,” Emizel muttered, glancing aside to see if anyone heard him.

Indeed, just about the only identifiable ones were Laharl’s burnt, red, probably toxic ones. Fenrich could take a guess the slightly pink and orangey ones were strawberry and carrot respectively, and a few others were leaking burnt honey or chocolate, but the rest really were a mystery dip.

He watched in utter disbelief as Valvatorez took one of the demonic red ones from the pile, daintily biting off the tail to chew and grimace slightly as he did so. “Laharl, these are... Yeah...” Valvatorez decided on.

“Haaahahaha! Just as I planned! Now no one else will want to eat them so I get to have them all to myself!”

“Please, go right ahead,” Seraphina said, picking off one to throw onto Laharl’s plate, following by a barrage of others from everyone else trying to cleanse the mountain of their taint, as Laharl laughed again.

“Ow! Usalia burnt her tongue on the jelly one, plip...” she said, sticking out the poor, injured thing in a ‘blep’.

“They’re gummy bears,” Etna said; “it was too much fun watching their little bodies melt as they cooked.”

Killia froze in the middle of his mouthful, inhaling with deep force. “Who made these vanilla cream ones? They’re incredible.”

“Usagi did...” a small voice said, and when Fenrich looked down he found a new, perfectly-formed taiyaki had found its way onto his plate. Fuck was Killia right; this was the first time heaven had ever been tasted inside of a simple, pastry fish.

“Ooh, I think I got a vanilla one!” Rutile cheered, biting in fiercely before coming to a crashing stop. “No, it’s cheese...”

“Though the presentation was impeccable,” Kurtis mentioned, “I can’t help thinking anyone with an ounce of common sense would have divided the taiyakis into separate sweet and savoury piles. Just a small thought from someone with a mouth full of sardines and strawberries.”

“Nonsense, sardines go with everything!” Valvatorez asserted.

“No, they really don’t,” Fenrich tried to break to him, hoping he could maybe transition from vanilla through cheese or carrot before- Nope, straight to sardine as well. “Oh God...”

“So are you going to replace your bed with a double bed soon, Valzy?” Fuka asked, while Desco chased down one of Kurtis’ spinach, garlic and red pepper Spanish taiyakis with fierce amounts of water.

“Double bed? Whatever for?”

Fuka sighed like Fenrich silently did. “You’re really lucky we’re here to help you.”

“De-Desco will help you achieve S-rank support with Mr. Fenfen! Once her mouth stops burning...”

“In return,” Fuka continued before Valvatorez’s naivety had even had a chance to catch up, “you have to make me the maid of honour at your wedding to Fenfen.”

“Wedding?!” Now Valvatorez had caught up.

“Let’s see,” Fuka continued without hesitation or mercy, “Emizel can be the page boy-”

“Huh?” he asked, making the critical mistake of looking away from where he was busy shoving a carrot taiyaki into Zeroken’s mouth, receiving a sardine one shoved into his open mouth in return.

“Killia can do all the catering.” The lad in question looked up, as dumb as Valvatorez apparently about what was going on. “Seraphina can be the ring-bearer.”

“Desco will be the pallbearer!” Desco added cheerfully, causing Kurtis to choke.

“Lass, please stop planning a wedding that Fenrich and I haven’t even agreed to yet.”

“Exactly, ‘yet’!” Fuka seized upon.

“It’s good practice for her,” Fenrich began, “since she’ll be planning a lot when she’s older and forever a bridesmaid.”

The few kids old enough to understand the joke let out some ‘Ooooh’ noises, and Fuka looked ready to throw down, but at the loud yell of, “Sardine!” from Valvatorez everyone flinched back, silenced. “I finally found one of my sardine ones,” he mused happily at a much quieter volume, setting off group-wide facepalms and groans.

~DOOD~

“Is she going to make herself useful and come by to change the dressing?” Fenrich asked as he switched off the bathroom light, coming back into the bedroom. Valvatorez was already in his pyjamas, sweet sardreams plushie ready on his pillow, but was currently sat up with his trousers pulled down to one knee to inspect his bandaged thigh.

“Artina? Yes, she said she’d continue coming by to check on my recovery; she needed to come do her monthly check-ups on the kids soon anyway.” Seeing how close he could poke to the wound before it hurt unbearably, Valvatorez missed Fenrich’s scornful scowl about the prospect. “She said I ought to receive more blood transfusions as well while I’m recovering, but honestly I feel fine.”

“You’re having more of my blood,” Fenrich said as he sat on his own sleeping mat alongside the bed, “even if I have to sneak it into your food to make you.”

Valvatorez raised his head with a frown, and a silence that amounted to ‘We shall see’ in response, before he returned to inspecting his bandages.

“Hey, um...” Fenrich knew how weird it was for him to start a sentence so uncertainly but, “I already apologised to Kurtis. I’m sorry,” he admitted, bowing forward where he sat cross-legged, “for... trying to kill you, and taking advantage of your trust in me. I thought you were an idiot for being so trusting of me considering my real intentions, but I was the one who was an idiot for trusting what Carter said.”

“Thank you, Fenrich,” Valvatorez nodded, pulling up his pyjamas. “I can’t help being glad you did though, or else we never would be here together right now.” Fenrich shook his head at such moronic optimism, following Valvatorez’s lead and laying down finally. The bedside light went off, but those poorly-drawn curtains flooded the room with enough moonlight to continue making out one another’s faces. Fenrich was going to offer to draw them but, “Will you tell me one thing, in return?” Valvatorez asked.

“What?”

“Why did you stay?”

Ugh, it wasn’t going to be an easy payment after all. “I don’t know, it simply... felt right. I acted with my heart, not my brain. As for why I feel that way...” He inhaled, searching. “I don’t know. This place is...”

“Where you would’ve wanted to grow up?” Valvatorez suggested. “That’s what I’ve always tried to make it, the place I never had as a child.”

Fenrich stared through the palely illuminated darkness at such a vulnerable admission but a face that made it so calmly. “Are the rumours about you true? That you’ve really been on the streets all by yourself since the day you were born?”

“I don’t know about ‘since the day I was born’,” Valvatorez admitted, “but as far back as my memories reach to when I was 4 or 5, yes. I had no family, no schooling, no home. Not until I fell ill and all this began.”

“How did you survive?”

“I really couldn’t say,” he said with some amusement. “The will to live, I suppose. Spirit, fortitude and a good heart.” While Fenrich mused on that Saturday morning cartoon revelation, “I used to go to libraries, to cinemas, to the windows of houses and schools to observe all those things others did I never had the chance to,” Valvatorez continued. “I wanted to live to try them all one day: Family picnics, video game tournaments, karaoke nights-”

“Please tell me you don’t have karaoke nights here,” Fenrich grimaced at the mere thought.

“You know, it’s been a while since the last – I’ll put one on the calendar!”

Fenrich could only groan, and hope he learnt his lesson one day; his ears could already hear the torturous sounds of Emizel and Zeroken doing rap duets together. “You’re strong, to give them everything you never had and simply be happy for them,” he said though in a soft tone. Valvatorez somehow managed to cock his head even whilst lying on his side with it pressed into a pillow. “So, you like trying new things?”

“Always! The exercise of one’s curiosity keeps one young and psychologically flexible.”

Fenrich chuckled that was the lead-in he had to work with as he pushed himself up from his own bed, moving to the side of Valvatorez’s. He expected the confusion in those dark eyes, only glinting red where the moonlight touched them right now, and was glad Valvatorez propped himself up on one elbow to make this easier.

That pale skin was still cool as Fenrich rested one hand on a forearm, leaning in his face. Valvatorez leant in too with innocence, before a widening of his eyes made obvious he’d realised what was happening. Fenrich waited, allowing him the chance to pull away, but when Valvatorez made the consenting gesture of moving forward slightly he took on the remaining task, completing the distance between their lips. His press was soft, and his hand squeezed that forearm gently in reassurance as Valvatorez froze so nervously, until small lips began pressing back. They were trembling, frail and nervous, but it felt so right a strength soon surged into the kiss. Quickly becoming almost hungry, Valvatorez’s hand tangled itself into the thick nape of Fenrich’s hair and held him there. Fenrich himself wasn’t done until he had taken that bottom lip between his teeth to suck, pulling it with him for a moment when he finally retreated.

Valvatorez’s blush was pink even in the white moonlight, and after a frozen moment he startled into a new posture with a hand covering his lower face and almost guilty expression cowering behind it.

Fenrich chuckled slightly, licking the sweet taste of toothpaste from his lips.

Valvatorez then managed to find a way to take it even further, yanking up his bedclothes over his head. Fenrich checked the door was shut, and all the kids were presumably asleep beyond it. But still it took a long minute before that head poked out again, covers pulled all the way up to right underneath his mouth, as Valvatorez asked, “A-Are my lips meant to tingle like this? Why do I still feel the spectre of yours on them even now?”

“Was that your first kiss?” Fenrich asked, obvious as it was, just to tease.

Valvatorez nodded, sinking beneath the covers fully once again like a child.

The crown of his black hair remained exposed, and Fenrich settled his own head against it. The hand of Valvatorez’s still exposed to pull up the covers he also clasped, soothingly rubbing over the knuckles as it quivered happily.

His soft breathing and warmth did their job, soon lulling the tired Valvatorez to sleep, however much Fenrich would have liked to spend this night together. Gently pushing back the covers so he wouldn’t suffocate himself, the silliest of smiles was on Valvatorez’s face, pressed up against his stuffed sardine. “Val...” Fenrich tutted, pulling back before he disturbed whatever sweet sardreams the man was having.

Laying back on his own bed, Fenrich stared up at the bat-shaped lampshade above that had watched the whole thing. He raised his own hand to his mouth, not daring to touch it in case that tingling sensation was brushed away. He clenched the hand up into a fist instead, trying to stop its quivering excitement, before turning onto his side away from Valvatorez to hide the daft grin on his face.

~DOOD~

For a not insignificantly injured person, “Morning time, everyone! The sun is rising and so should you be!” Valvatorez sure was not taking it easy nor letting anyone else do so.

Fenrich groaned, burying his face into his pillow as many of the kids were doubtless doing at the sound of the ass o’clock wake-up call walking up and down the upstairs corridor. But Valvatorez never let up until every single person was awake, Fenrich included, so what else was there to drag himself off his sleeping mat and stumble out onto the landing in his sleeping shorts, trying to tame his mane of hair with his fingers.

“Dammit,” Emizel was first to the doorframe of his room, rubbing at his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie pulled up over his wrist, “can’t we ever get one freakin’ lie-in in this place? You were only shot yesterday, Val.”

“Incorrect! That altercation took place at ten minutes before midnight, and thus it has been two days since I was shot!”

Kurtis appeared behind Emizel, patting the shorter kid on the shoulder. “When Artina comes to change his dressing we’ll get her to order Val to stay in bed tomorrow morning.”

“Heh, I like the way you think.”

“Absolutely not!” Valvatorez declared, even punching the air in front of him. “My health is absolutely fine, as is all of yours, so there’s no reason for anyone to be lazing around in bed.”

The two sensible boys groaned in sync, trudging forward and briefly stopping at the door to Zeroken’s room so Emizel could yell, “I’m eating the last of the chocolate cereal, Zeroken!” before he suddenly sprinted for the stairs. Zeroken tore out of his room only seconds later, nearly knocking over Kurtis who just sighed at the younger boys.

The three younger, cute and well-behaved girls trotted out of their rooms without complaints, yawning or pulling up the shoulders of their over-sized pyjamas as they marched downstairs.

“Laharl! Etna!” Valvatorez made a point of calling into the most unruly room, receiving a rather considerable number of expletives in reply.

Fenrich watched them slump their way out of their room half a minute later though at the same time the other remaining kids all appeared, lest they be subjected to the same fate. “If you did your job properly,” Seraphina huffed at Fenrich, while Killia seemed motivated enough at the prospect of breakfast to head downstairs, “we could all start getting some more sleep in the mornings.”

“‘My job’?”

“Keeping Val busy in bed,” she tutted obviously, rolling her eyes as she walked away too.

Valvatorez got his wagging finger ready to lecture. “Seraphina-”

“So what did happen in that room last night?” Fuka butted in though. “You don’t normally shut your door, Valzy.”

“That’s merely because Fenrich values his privacy,” Valvatorez said, which was true but Fenrich had never actually told him. “Nothing happened aside from a little, boring adult chatter,” That was what he was going to call it? “and us sleeping.”

“In the same bed?”

“No, in separate beds.”

“After you had sex, right?”

While Valvatorez actually took a comical step back he was so scandalised, “Lass, despite your own hopeless fate, do try and at least be a good sibling by not talking about such things in front of your little sister,” Fenrich said rather diplomatically, if he did say so himself, nodding to Desco.

Who was of course busy playing on her Switch already, not even looking up as she replied, “There’s no need to keep secrets; Desco knows what happens when you leave Pokémon at the Daycare Centre together.”

He didn’t even know if she was being euphemistic with that or not. “Nothing of that sort happened between us last night, okay?” Valvatorez made clear as Fenrich walked up to his side ready to end this ridiculous conversation and head downstairs.

Fuka frowned very doubtingly at them, before finally sighing. “I guess with Valzy’s injury you probably had to restrain your burning passions for another night.” The two men shared a dry glance at the girl’s romantic flights of fancy. “But mark my words!” Fuka suddenly declared with fire. “I’ll make you realise your feelings for each other and get you two together before our dad comes to collect us! You just wait!” And with her piece said, “Come on, Desco,” the two sisters descended downstairs as well.

“She really isn’t going to give up,” Fenrich observed with a wearied sigh.

“Her assumptions about the stage our relationship has reached were inconsistent in every declaration she made,” Valvatorez had more issue with, thoughtfully holding his chin.

Fenrich took the opportunity to slip his own hand along that jawline to join it, tilting Valvatorez’s face up to his to kiss. Though sweet and light, befitting of the time of day, they both let it linger for quite a moment as they pressed forward pleasurably against one another, before Valvatorez eventually pulled back with a little noise of satisfaction.

“So, how long should we continue to pretend nothing’s going on between us?” Fenrich asked, unable not to grin wolfishly.

Valvatorez grinned too, showing his canines. “Oh, a little while longer yet.”

Chapter Text

“Hello?”

Pink...

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

Pink hair... framed by a halo of light...

“You have to stay with me! Stay awake!”

Gentle hands resting lightly...

A sore rubbing directly on bones, fingertips resting on too thin skin.

“I need to get you back to my clinic so I can treat you. Can you stand?”

His ragged breathing, throat dry and thick.

“I think we’re going to have to walk. Come on now, lean on me.”

Arms sliding carefully under his, lifting him into empty air. Moving as they urge, dizzy blurring of gravel ground and brick walls.

“Close your eyes if you need to. I’ll lead you.”

Blissful, gentle darkness, his weight leant and feet trudging forward.

“You need to stay awake, okay? I know! You can help me decide what to make for dinner tonight. I was thinking of doing something with sardines...”

“Ugh.” A noise, his throat swallowing thickly.

“Don’t you like sardines? You shouldn’t be so fussy, Mr. Weirdo; sardines are very good for you. And they taste so nice in a little tomato sauce with cucumber slices...”

The words blurring, everything else hazy, but his feet walking slowly forward nonetheless.

~DOOD~

A grey ceiling, plain sheets, half a dozen other empty beds bathed in slanted light.

Valvatorez struggled up onto his elbows, refusing to let the searing protests of his body stop him from righting himself against his bed’s lone pillow and headboard. Blinking away his unfocused vision as his left hand turned over, the curious thing in its back stayed in place, as did the tube connected to an empty medical bag hung on a stand, a residue of pale yellowish staining its inside. His right hand touched his chest, skin stretched over the bottom of his rib cage pulling sorely. Lifting the sheets, there was nothing but bare skin up and down. He flushed, looking around the room with a new urgency.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re awake!”

Valvatorez pulled his gaze away from his faded yellow backpack in the corner to scowl at the offensively cheerful woman approaching his bedside so casually, seating herself on the edge even.

“Here, let me take this out.” Her hands reached out to remove the thing attached to the back of his hand. “How do you feel?”

“I’m naked.” His voice sounded awful, and his throat hurt it was so dryly raw.

She dared to look amused. “Your clothes are clean, if you’re strong enough to put them back on.” She set to taking down the empty medical bag and tube. “I would imagine you are, considering how you tried to attack me earlier this morning.”

He curiously frowned in the direction of the windows, recognising dusk from dawn, before he turned the frown on her. “I attacked you?”

“You were delirious but don’t worry, you were too weak to do any harm to me. I’m just happy you’re finally lucid for the first time since you came here.” He watched her set aside all she’d collected into some sort of tray before returning to sit on his bedside. “How do you feel?”

Valvatorez looked down at himself again, feeling his slightly laboured breathing, his nauseous wooziness and his snarling stomach for the first time. And that felt like just the beginning of a fuzzy iceberg of symptoms he couldn’t even put a name or location to right now. “What’s wrong with me?” he murmured sharply at her.

Her hand reached out, brushing aside his black hair to face the full force of that scowl. Gauntness had made his face longer, more angular, and only enhanced the dark anger in his expression. “I’m Artina, a nurse.” Her hand turned, pressing its back to his scowling forehead. “What’s wrong with you is quite serious, I’m afraid. Are you feeling up to discussing it right now?”

“Tell me,” he spat.

“All right.” She drew back her hand to fold both in her lap. “Do you know much about physiology?” He continued glaring past his bangs. “I’ll try and explain this as simply as possible then.” One of her delicate fingers reached out, indicating the IV insert patch on the back of his hand. “Blood is composed of cells, like red and white blood cells, which are carried by blood plasma. Blood plasma is made,” Her finger travelled across to his abdomen, indicating without touching, to the middle slightly to one side, “by your liver, predominately. The plasma is what carries the nutrients from the food you eat around to the various parts of your body that need them.”

His silent glare continued.

“Your liver also makes bile,” Artina continued, “which breaks down fat in the small intestine and carries away waste. It’s also involved in the storage and release of glucose, which gives your body energy, and iron, which allows your blood to circulate oxygen properly. The liver also has some functions in the immune system.” Her hand now retreated, the full blue of her eyes meeting with his. “I’m afraid your liver isn’t functioning properly anymore; I did a liver function test while you were asleep to confirm it. All of those functions I just described aren’t being performed properly by your body therefore.”

“Fix it,” he commanded.

“I can’t.”

A growl rose in his throat. “That’s your job!”

She shook her head. “It can’t be fixed.” His eyes grew so wide, staring with such intensity as to almost be accusation. “You can live with this though. It’s not a death sentence.”

His silence was sullen, no gladder.

Tilting her head slightly, Artina’s soft smile grew ever so slightly. “You’ve been trying to regain weight, haven’t you? If you’re living on the streets I imagine you’ve had to take food where you can find it, and have been eating large amounts at once? Particularly carbohydrate- and fat-rich foods?”

Disgruntled, Valvatorez made a head movement that might have been a nod.

“That won’t work for your condition,” she explained. “Without proper bile production your digestive system simply can’t break down food as it once could. With a more suitable diet you can manage this condition and maintain a level of physical health that will let you participate in almost all activities anyone without it could.” She reached into her clothes, extracting a folded sheet of paper, although Valvatorez could only puzzle where from in such a skimpy outfit. “Since your digestion is impaired you need to make the maximum use of what you have by eating only nutrient-rich foods. But on the plus side you also get to eat a small amount of easy, calorie-rich food to make up your daily energy needs!” She held out the list towards him, remaining there patiently as he refused to do more than glare at it. Eventually Artina simply set it to one side on the small bedside table with the same patient smile, folding her hands in her lap again. “More importantly, so as not to overtax your digestive system and because your liver can’t store glucose as effectively, you need to eat little and often. You also need to be very careful about losing blood, as you won’t have the plasma left to transport what you need otherwise. You should receive regular blood plasma transfusions if possible, or at least general blood transfusions failing that.”

He looked to the tray the empty medical bag had been cleaned away into, then back.

“I hope you’re not squeamish about blood transfusions, Mr. Vampire,” Artina teased lightly, before leaning forward earnestly a little. “If you’re going to look after your health, the thing you truly need most of all is stability, so you need to get off the streets. I can-”

“‘Get off the streets’?!” he scorned darkly. “Do you have no idea who I am?!”

Artina blinked innocently.

“My name is Valvatorez, the Street Tyrant!” he quite proudly announced, trying to swing out an arm in emphasis that made him stagger unsteadily to one side where he sat. “I can’t simply leave the streets!”

She only looked on steadily at him. “Why not?”

“‘Why not’?!” he repeated in complete derision. “Are you really that feeble-minded, woman?! Of course I can’t!”

“Why not?” Artina persisted calmly in the face of his untamed anger. “What happens if you do?”

“What... What happens?” Valvatorez came to a stop, the one blinking now as he stared at her.

His eyes were so wide as Artina reached out, laying her hands atop his on the sheets. “The recovery process for this won’t just be physical. Whenever anyone receives a diagnosis like this you also have to grieve for the life you’re not going to be able to live now.” His hands froze up under hers, tensing into a shape more like an animal’s claws. “I know the prospect of change is scary, that you have a life you want to be able to continue living as before. But you have to understand that’s not possible anymore. I’ll be here to help you with finding a new life that you can live safely and healthily, so rely on me when it’s hard.” His hands tried to flinch away, but hers held onto them. “You can make this change. You were so strong, walking back here with me in that state, and having survived so long already with this. I know you can-”

“S-Stop this nonsense!” He tried to wrench his hands from hers. “A Street Tyrant can’t leave the streets that give him his name!”

“Why not?” her patience asked again, hands holding firmly around his struggling ones.

“Because I’m the Street Tyrant Valvatorez! That’s who I am!”

“And who are you if you stop being the ‘Street Tyrant’?”

He came a shaky stop, the anger in his frame turning to a quivering. Even as his hands trembled though, trying to surge with anger until the weakness of his body defeated it, hers were firm around them. Eventually they stopped trying, settling into simply trembling. “...Valvatorez?” his voice quietly guessed.

“Don’t you know who that is?” She smiled, verging on amusement but not quite.

His long, dark bangs covered his face as he let it bow in front of her, staring at his own weak and pale arms. “I...” Blinking a few times, he settled into the more comfortable darkness of closing his eyes completely. “...Perhaps not,” he muttered.

She chuckled gently. “Then we’re both in the same boat, aren’t we?” His curious red eyes opened to her. “I don’t know you very well either right now, Mr. Weirdo. But I’d also like to get to know you better; I think being friends with you would be fun.”

“‘Friends’?”

“You’re not going to tell me you don’t know that word, are you?” Artina teased.

“I...” His gaze fell, looking away. He soon returned to a more comfortable frown, supposing aloud, “We can all become wrapped up in being the person others think we are...”

“Yes,” she agreed. “But you’re free to be whomever you want. We always are, even if we often forget that.”

Valvatorez did turn his frown on her briefly, but before long it fell into a hollowness instead, staring distantly into the space of his lap.

“I’ll be here to help while you recover and find what you need, okay?” Her hands squeezed his, feeling them try to pull free once again on instinct but weakly submitting in the end. “You can stay here as long as you need.”

He neither resisted or protested, remaining still in his medical bed.

“Since you’re free to become whomever you want now,” Artina teased cheerfully, “why don’t you start by becoming someone who likes sardines?”

“Sardines?” He finally scowled at her again.

“Yes. Sardines are full of the sorts of nutrients you need, and they cleanse your blood as well as boosting your immune system! They’re an ideal food for you to start eating if you want to recover.”

When he glared like that, she only giggled now.

Disconnecting their hands, “I made something for when you woke up,” Artina wandered out of the room briefly, returning with a plate, “so don’t be ungrateful and eat up now.” The plate was set down on his bedside table, and Valvatorez couldn’t have stared at it more disdainfully. “Go on. Why don’t you start with the sardines?”

He glared at the small pile of vegetable sticks, wholemeal flatbread, glass of milk and most of all the little pile of cleaned and prepared sardines on the plate. He glared at her, and the slender fork arranged so neatly on the plate to eat with. But as he glared she only smiled patiently back, until he looked at the sardines again.

Still trembling, softening just slightly, Valvatorez reached out for his first sardine.

~DOOD~

The pane was as cold as the grey, lifeless streets being pelted by heavy summer rain outside, and his body shivered beneath his white shirt. But still Valvatorez rested his forehead against the window, eyes numbly staring past the raindrops to nothing at all.

“I’m sorry I took so long.” He didn’t react at all. “I’m ready to perform your plasma transfusion now, Mr. Vampire.”

He finally turned without taking his forehead from the pane, sharp redness of his eyes pointed at her from behind the shadow of his hair.

“Thank you again for dealing with those other patients earlier,” Artina continued. “I wouldn’t have thought anyone with such wounds could have been so rowdy.”

“Of course they would be,” he scorned. “Putting a member of the Deathsaber gang in the same room as a Mystic Beast... You really are foolish, nurse.”

“But they both needed treatment!” she insisted, bringing over the transfusion equipment to him if he wasn’t going to move. “You can’t expect me to just leave them to bleed out or get sepsis.”

He tutted, turning away and letting her do as she wished preparing his arm for the transfusion.

“More and more people seem to be getting injured these days...” Artina sighed. “I worry if things will ever improve around here...”

“You may as well give up if that’s what you’re waiting for,” he found some amusement in her naivety. “The fighting has grown worse lately because of ‘King’ Krichevskoy’s death. Without anyone suitable to take his position and keep the overlords at peace, their gangs will continue to run rampant in such brutish fashion. The ‘Death King’ of the Death gang might have been a suitable replacement, but given he has other, hmhm, occupations these days...”

She watched as he didn’t even flinch to have the end of the IV inserted, still looking elsewhere as if he couldn’t even feel such pain anymore. “I do hope something is done about it, before someone takes advantage of the situation. People only turn to the gangs because no one provides them with the stability and safety they need. If someone could only help them then the fighting would calm down. But if the city continues to ignore them and blame them for their own problems like this...”

His head turned slightly, staring neutrally as she set the plasma flowing into the tube. “You’re not quite as idiotic as I first thought,” Valvatorez said, a smirk cutting through behind his bangs. “You are still utterly idealistic, however.”

She couldn’t face him, only fussing with the transfusion equipment as she admitted, “I know the city doesn’t care; you don’t need to tell me, Mr. Tyrant.” Artina brought a smile back to her face though with willpower, attempting to implore him with it. “But I believe we can’t allow cynicism to stop us from trying to help one another, no matter how hard the situation may be!”

“Fool,” he muttered, hiding from the brightness of her smile.

The plasma was flowing nicely now, and Valvatorez didn’t look as if he’d be moving from the cold sill of the window any time soon. Artina glanced back, but with the clinic room empty, she allowed herself to perch on the nearest of the perfectly made beds. After hesitating politely, “Mr. Tyrant, may I ask you something?”

He half-turned towards her, a side-eyed gaze waiting for her to spit it out.

“Why have you never joined any of the gangs? How did you survive on the streets without them?”

“I’m strong,” he huffed simply. “I don’t need their false comradeship. My own proud and noble fortitude is all I require to survive.”

Artina hesitated again politely, this time frowning over his eccentric assertions, but folding her hands in her lap instead she opted for, “Do you have any family?”

“None,” he answered too easily, she felt. “From my very first memories, when I was 4 or 5, I was already out on the streets by myself.”

“I can’t believe anyone could just abandon a child that young...” she said. “But I’ve seen it happen too many times around here anyway.”

Valvatorez had no interest in her soft-hearted lamenting, preferring the coldness of the rain outside. But when she stayed silent this time, “...I’ve been attempting to recall,” he mentioned lowly. “The person I was before I became only known as the ‘Street Tyrant’.”

“And?”

“I am someone who never has what everyone else has.”

Her curious expression fell into sympathetic sadness again, “Mr. Tyrant...”

“I have never had a home, family, friends,” Valvatorez continued. “No education, no job, no purpose in life. You tell me to just find these things as if it’s so simple, nurse, but that’s not the kind of creature I am.”

“You’re not a ‘creature’, Mr. Silly,” she teased more lightly.

“Hm, you’re the only one who thinks that.”

So sharply dismissed, Artina found she could only fall silent again as she considered the man curled up so dark and tight at the cold window pane, back to her once more. The pale plasma flowed steadily on into his even paler skin, and he seemed as unfazed by its help as the pain of the insertion. “...Well, you’re not a creature to me, Mr. Tyrant – You’re my friend.”

He perked tensely, and Artina had moved to stand beside him when he dared consider turning away from the rain outside. “...Friend?”

“So you see, you can find these things,” she enthused, clasping her hands together cheerfully. “The only thing that will stop you is giving up.”

“Must you always spout such twee platitudes?” he grumbled.

“I only say things I truly believe,” she said, and Valvatorez rolled his eyes. “You already know you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need, and you can always come back if you start struggling again. I can continue to give you the necessary transfusions regularly as well, every week ideally.”

“Each week?” His face pulled into displeasure, looking down at the IV feeding into his arm.

“You might be able to get by without them if you really take good care of yourself,” Artina judged, “but to be on the safe side I’ll order plasma for a weekly transfusion for you, so make sure you come by, okay?”

“‘Order’?” Valvatorez blinked at her curiously. “Are you paying for this?”

“My clinic receives charitable funding from the city and a few organisations, but I have to use that to pay for all my own supplies, as well as my own living costs since I live here.” She indicated the upstairs where she had a tiny, two-room flat. “I wish I had the funding to start a food bank as well to help prevent people ending up here in the first place, but with the fighting only getting worse...” Her hands looked more as if they were held together in prayer now, her expression fallen.

Valvatorez frowned past his hair at her, the red of his eyes piercing, searching.

“Um... Why are you staring me like that, Mr. Weirdo?” She cocked her head, bemused. “Also, you could really do with a haircut...”

“Why do you help others whom you have no good reason to? Why am I your friend?” he said, still frowning at her.

“I help people because I can’t stand to see them hurting, I suppose,” Artina answered, unsure as if thinking about it for the first time herself too. “No one deserves to suffer, and if I can help them then I don’t mind how hard I have to work.” Since his expression remained unchanged, “And you’re my friend because I like being with you, Mr. Tyrant. You’re so interesting, and I want to get to know you better. I was really impressed by your strength, and how well you’ve taken all this, even if I can see you’re still a little lost. I...” she trailed off, biting her lip slightly.

“What?”

As if it was improper to admit it, “Normally my patients are only here for as long as I need to treat them, and I rarely have any time for myself to socialise. I know... what it’s like to live a very solitary life. I don’t mind it,” she wanted to make clear cheerfully, “and I’m happy with the way I live. But I also end up with no one to call a true friend because of it. So, I guess you’re my friend... because I want to be your friend, Mr. Tyrant,” Artina admitted awkwardly, crossing one leg in front of her and posing slightly as she smiled.

Bringing his legs down from the sill as he turned around properly, Valvatorez actually brushed back some of his hair slightly. “...My friend?”

“Am I allowed to be your friend, Mr. Street Tyrant?” Artina asked genuinely, smiling.

“I...” He blinked to a stop, staring at her.

She only cocked her head, waiting for his answer.

One of his hands twitched as if to reach forward before moving back as he turned aside awkwardly. Lips pressed together, canines worrying on his bottom one, Valvatorez looked again to check she was still honest about it before nodding. “Very well, we are friends!” he declared.

Artina laughed, covering her mouth politely with one hand. “You’re so earnest, Mr. Weirdo.”

“What? Why are you laughing, nurse?” he demanded petulantly.

She calmed herself, somewhat at least, in an effort to be respectful. “You really are such an interesting person to be friends with, Mr. Tyrant! I’m so happy.”

“This is friendship? Laughing at me, and telling me I need a haircut?” he muttered. “Your hair is even longer than mine.”

“I didn’t mean your ponytail,” she clarified. “And I understand you enjoy glowering at people from behind your bangs, but they’re getting to the point where it’s hard to even tell when you’re glowering, was what I actually meant.” Valvatorez reached up, examining his bangs as he held them aside and revealed a frowning pout beneath. “Anyway, what should we have for dinner?” Artina changed subject cheerfully. “I’m running low on groceries, but I made sure there’s a can of sardines left for you.”

He perked back up. “Perhaps that sardine pasta bake you made before?”

“Oh. I’m out of flour for the sauce,” she admitted. “And tomato sauce. And cheese.”

“Tch. I suppose sardine pizza is out of the question as well in that case...”

“There is pasta and vegetables though, if you don’t mind having it plain,” Artina offered.

He waved off that would be fine. “What will you be having?”

She blinked, before smiling as she made to walk away. “Oh, I ate at lunch, I’ll be all right.”

“Wait, you aren’t eating?” Valvatorez slid off the sill.

His approach made her halt, smile faltering slightly before she forced it back up. “There’s only enough sardines and vegetables left for one.”

“But you...” He glowered more darkly at her. “You tell me over and over to look after myself, yet this is how you look after yourself?”

“You’re my patient, I can’t let you go without,” Artina said.

“And you are my friend, I cannot allow you to go without either!”

She took a step back in mild surprise, especially with him being so physically dramatic about it.

“Attend to yourself before you attend to others – That is a key rule of caring for others, is it not?”

“Well, yes, but...”

“And it was you yourself who told me only yesterday that being underweight weakens the immune system!” he continued didactically. “What if you contract an infectious malady and pass it onto your patients? I cannot allow a friend to be so careless with their own health!”

“All right, Mr. Weirdo,” Artina sighed, hoping for a little calm. “But I can’t eat what’s not in the kitchen. And no,” she already pre-empted as he looked round at the window, “you are not going out in that rain to scare some more groceries off some poor soul.”

“But-”

“No,” she scolded. “We’ll simply have to make what I have stretch far enough for two, if you’re going to insist.” Well, he was smiling again, even if there was something far too smugly victorious about it.

~DOOD~

“800HL an hour?! Are you crazy, lady?!”

“This is a medical establishment – Such rates for parking are entirely standard. And I don’t appreciate your implication my demands are unreasonable when I’m only collecting what is fairly due.”

“There’s no way in hell I’m paying that – It’s daylight robbery!”

“I am not a thief!” Artina was insisting hotly to the man presumably in ownership of the car parked outside of her clinic. “I am simply asking for what I am owed-!”

“Is there an issue?” Valvatorez enquired as he finally approached the scene closely enough to intervene, looking between them.

“Yeah, this crazy woman is trying to...” The man froze in his appeal, staring at Valvatorez in slowly dawning terror. “Y-You-! The S-Street Tyrant-!”

“Indeed I am,” Valvatorez answered peaceably.

“H-Here!” The man’s wallet came out so fast the leather could have caught fire, far more than 800HL pressed into Artina’s waiting hand.

His car was soon gone in a tyre-screeching flash. “You charge 800HL an hour for parking?” Valvatorez enquired.

“It’s what they charge at the hospital uptown,” she hotly defended, “and this is a medical establishment in just the same kind.” A dubious pursing of the lips appeared on his face, but in going to argue with the expression she realised, “Mr. Tyrant, your hair!”

Valvatorez brightened. “Indeed, I just had it cut!” He proudly showed off his new, shorter style.

“I only meant the bangs,” she said awkwardly. “You didn’t need to have your ponytail cut off as well.”

“Yes,” he admitted, touching the uncovered nape of his neck with the slightest regret. “But long, straight and untreated hair such as mine sells for quite the tidy sum. I had it cut off to pay for the haircut, and for... well...” He held out his money for her, far more than she currently held.

“I told you I don’t accept payment from my patients-!”

“This isn’t that,” he insisted softly, holding up a silencing hand. “It’s a charity donation so you can continue treating other patients. A-And so you can get a little closer to that food bank you want to start...”

Artina searched his face, for his sake ignoring the touch of pink across his cheeks, and though his gaze was turned aside it was honest. She couldn’t help but soften into a smile, “...Your face has rounded out nicely, Mr. Tyrant; you look younger for it,” accepting his donation gratefully.

“A-Ahh...” Valvatorez flustered, touching one cheek even he could feel was far less gaunt now. “I suppose I am feeling far better of late, all thanks to your excellent and attentive treatment of course! I will find a place of my own as soon as possible, but in the meantime...”

“Of course you can stay a little longer,” Artina guessed for him. “I’m very happy to have you here as my friend. And you’re still not quite done recovering yet.”

“I feel in perfect fettle!” Valvatorez insisted, even jumping and punching the air for emphasis.

“Still, you ought to spend a little more time recovering as a preventative measure.” He at least nodded to that. “That reminds me, it’s time for your plasma transfusion again this afternoon-”

“No!”

By now she only raised an eyebrow slightly at his physically dramatic outbursts. “No?”

“I have decided – I shan’t receive any more transfusions of any kind!”

“But Mr. Vampire-”

“You said to me that I would not be in need them if I took good enough care of myself,” Valvatorez said. “Every time I have a transfusion I am taking it away from someone else who likely does not have that option. Therefore it is my duty to take good enough care of myself, so I do not take needed resources away from others!”

“You’re not really...” There was too much fire in his eyes, she could see it. “I only said you ‘might’ be able to get by without them; I won’t let you endanger your health by refusing them unless you really are fit enough to go without them,” Artina laid down sternly.

He nodded. “And I’m certain if you test me I believe you’ll find I am indeed fit enough, no further transfusions will be necessary.”

“I will be the judge of that, Mr. Patient.” She tried to hold firm with him, she really did. But when he smiled so ingenuously compared to all the frowns and scowls she’d thought were all she would ever see, “...We’ll see how you go without one today.”

“Excellent! Time for lunch!” he declared, and when he led the way like that Artina could only fondly sigh and follow. “I found this new recipe for sardine pie we can attempt now we have flour once again.”

“Sardines again, Mr. Tyrant?”

“But of course – It was you who introduced me to their nutritional supremacy after all! A daily diet of them is certain to provide me all the strength necessary to avoid further transfusions.”

“It doesn’t quite...” Artina shook her head. “Yes, Mr. Weirdo...”

~DOOD~

A dull clatter.

Valvatorez’s opening eyes adjusted to the dimness of night in the clinic’s main room, frowning at the wall he faced-

A rattling, quiet but quick, glass on plastic.

Pausing cautiously, he judged it was safe to dart up to sitting as he listened to the noises coming from the other room.

Soft banging, like drawers being opened and closed in quick succession.

Throwing off his covers, Valvatorez stalked silently to the door, one with the darkness flooding the clinic. Steadying the door handle as he slowly depressed it, he waited for the subtle vibrations of footsteps to reach his own bare feet from the backroom before nodding to himself and throwing the door open. “Who’s there?!”

“Busted, Prince!”

“Crap! Run for it!”

“Hey!” Valvatorez had charged forward but got caught up around the unlit standing shelves as light feet ran not for the entrance or stairs but the bathroom. “Halt this instance!”

The bathroom door was thrown back into his face as he attempted to catch up, the blow staggering him before he flung it open with a bang as it hit the tiled walls. Only a single, red shoe was left, disappearing through the room’s window, the rest of its body falling to the ground outside with a swear.

He ran to the backroom’s window at the sound of escaping feet but the alley outside was nothing more than shadows and darkness. “Damn and blast!”

“Mr. Tyrant?”

Valvatorez turned to Artina’s face peering around the bottom of the stairs, uncertain but not afraid.

“You had intruders,” he explained, looking over the room’s ransacked contents for the first time. “I interrupted them but was unable to catch them, I apologise.”

She walked down into the room properly, the skimpiest of pyjamas covering about as much skin as her fuzzy pink socks, and as she turned the light on he could see she was smiling understandingly. “It’s not the first time; lots of people target clinics and pharmacies around here.” Her gaze went to the medication cabinets naturally, but blinked a few times to find them untouched. “Oh. What did they take?”

“Hmm... So far as I can tell,” he judged, pulling out drawers around the interrupted ones left open, “bandages, syringes, those horrible little things you hold down my tongue with...”

“Syringes?” Artina came over. “Drug addicts perhaps?”

“They were children.”

“Hm?”

Valvatorez gestured for her to come over to the bathroom, indicating its window. “Their voices were those of children, a female and a prepubescent male to be precise. They managed to escape through this window and likely came in that way as well.” He frowned, but with the heat of the late summer night it had seemed a fair risk at the time.

“Oh no...” Artina could only clasp her hands together, concerned face looking over the disruption again. “This won’t do. We need to help them.”

“Help your burglars?” he scorned slightly.

“They wouldn’t be stealing if they didn’t need help,” Artina appealed to him. “And the items they stole... I’m concerned about what they need them for.”

Valvatorez frowned, but when she was so earnestly caring as that, “...Fine. I will go and search for them in the morning,” he sighed but agreed.

“You will?” He wasn’t pleased about it, but turned aside sheepishly when her face lit up with that smile. “Thank you, Mr. Tyrant! And thank you for confronting them.”

“Had I been at my previous sharpness I would have apprehended them for you as well, but I’ve gotten rather out of practice while recovering here.” That lit his face up with a smile, albeit a far more sinister one. “You know, it’ll do me good to have a target to hunt once again...”

“You’re finding them so you can help them,” she reminded him.

He waved that off as trivial, already gleeful at the prospect.

~DOOD~

Valvatorez walked down the quiet road unhindered and barely observed, these streets the sort where anyone taking an interest in someone else’s business wasn’t in for a good time.

As the few remaining cheap cafés and businesses gave way to empty properties, so long abandoned they weren’t even marked for sale, he raised his gaze to a pair small legs and their red shoes dangling over one roof edge. Confronting that boarded up shop from the road below, “You up there!”

The legs stopped kicking lackadaisically in the hot sunshine, halting before being pulled back. Purple hair popped up with a scowl. “Who dares disturb the great Laharl?!”

A set of red pigtails popped up beside that, face turning to a frown as Valvatorez only chuckled darkly. “You were the intruders who broke into the clinic last night, correct?”

“Hah!” The shrimp of a boy pulled himself up on the roof edge and folded his arms, defiantly shirtless and grinning. “So what if we were? Come to get revenge, have you?”

“Indeed,” he answered. “That clinic belongs to my friend, and you misappropriated her property.”

While the red-haired face dawned with shock, “If you want it back you’ll have to defeat me to get it!”

“Um, Prince, I think that guy is-”

“Quiet! Etna, prepare the meteors!”

“‘Meteors’?” Valvatorez questioned as Etna did as told, disappearing from sight. “This promises to be exciting indeed...”

He watched quite fascinated as Laharl turned away for a moment, taking a ball of trash in one hand and a match in the other. With a daredevil striking of the match against his own forearm, Laharl dropped the burning match into the centre of the ball, hurling it overarm at speed.

The metal pipe tucked inside Valvatorez’s tattered coat flashed out in an instant, batting the now burning ‘meteor’ away effortlessly onto the tarmac.

“Haaahahahaha! Not bad!” Laharl commended. “You might even be worth making into my vassal.” Turning to Etna once more, this time he held up two matches in show before striking and dropping each into a trash ball. The first one lit had barely left his hand before its newspaper veins were alight, plastic wrappers buried inside smoking black as they hurtled through the air towards Valvatorez.

Again he struck both away with a single stroke, one hitting the kerb and disintegrating into smouldering debris. The second though, with a splintering crack, broke through the deceptively weak boards of the shop front.

Two sets of hands grabbed the roof edge, heads shooting out in panic. “Crap! Save the supplies!” Laharl declared, both disappearing in less than a moment.

“Hm?” Valvatorez assessed the shop front, breaking a large enough hole for himself to step through the already busted boards. The burning trash ball had landed on a sheet so dirty it was struggling to light, smoking and smouldering as he scooped it all up with the pipe end to fling back outside.

Frantic shoes skidded down stairs he couldn’t see as he looked around, taking in a showroom space where long-forgotten furniture and rubbish nestled around plain pillars and cobwebbed corners so thick they might as well have been curtained.

Laharl and Etna burst in from a backroom door, Laharl vaulting the broken counter before recognising Valvatorez’s presence and his indication where the trash ball had been removed to. Etna wound her way through a fortress of broken TVs and trash to crouch among them in the meantime, reporting, “It’s okay, Prince, nothing’s damaged.”

Still Laharl scowled in blame, not that it bothered Valvatorez at all who began, “I hope that includes the property you stole last night. What are you collecting medical supplies for?”

“None of your business!”

“As my friend’s appropriated possessions are among all this,” Probably, Valvatorez assessed as he looked around the indoor dump in disgust, “it most certainly is my business- My word, even for rough living this place is beyond sordid.” He rubbed his sole against the floor in an attempt to dislodge the trash stuck to it, though in its state it put as much dirt on as it took off.

“It’s fine,” Laharl sniffed haughtily.

“It’s totally revolting, Prince,” Etna disagreed, coming up to his side. “I keep telling you, we need to find somewhere more sanitary for... you know,” she alluded.

Laharl’s scowl deepened.“Hrmm...” Valvatorez raised a curious eyebrow at what it could be that Laharl accepted but didn’t want to admit. “Hey, you.”

“Yes?” Valvatorez answered.

“Find us somewhere better to live and I’ll make you my vassal.”

That prompted a good chuckle. “Your vassal? An interesting, if foolish, proposal.”

“‘Foolish’?! Are you too thick-headed to know who you’re speaking to? I’m Laharl Krichevskoy!” Laharl folded his arms, standing proud at his pathetically small height. “One day all the streets of the netherworld will belong to me!”

“Oh, you’re ‘King’ Krichevskoy’s son?” Valvatorez was bemused.

“If you know who I am, you ought to be cowering in fear right now, bastard!”

Etna leant in, casting nervous looks at Valvatorez, “Uh, Prince, I’m pretty sure this guy is-”

“Well?” Laharl demanded of their visitor. “Are you going to accept my generous offer, or not?”

“I counter-offer!” Valvatorez threw his loose coat out like a cape with one hand. “Return what you stole from my friend and I will find you a better place to live. ‘King’ Krichevskoy’s son oughtn’t to be reduced to living in such filth.”

“On that we agree!” Looking around the dump he called his kingdom currently, Laharl did indeed seem to be wavering towards that counter-offer.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Valvatorez asked. “I thought Krichevskoy had a house.”

Laharl’s fists balled up, his scowl returning. “We did. But when that idiot choked, all the ungrateful nobodies he’d been keeping down rioted and wrecked it.”

“Laharl still owns it, you know, inheritance-wise,” Etna offered more despondently. “But we didn’t want to get taken into care so...”

Valvatorez nodded. “Are you injured from the attack? Is that what you took the medical supplies for?” Both kids bit their lips, expressions turning aside guardedly. “My friend is a nurse who treats anyone regardless of their situation. I’m sure she would provide whatever treatment you need only too willingly, if you were to return what you stole.”

Laharl frowned, while Etna only looked to Laharl deferentially. He eventually shoved his hands in his shorts pockets, kicking at trash on the filthy floor. “The supplies aren’t for us. They’re for... my sister.” He tutted, striding away. When followed, around a large pile of discarded TVs and sofas a medical bad came into view, if a very dilapidated one with chunks eaten into the stuffing and broken edges. “She was born with some medical condition that meant mom died giving birth to her, and she’s spent her whole childhood stuck in that stupid children’s hospital uptown. She hates it when she’s stuck there alone.”

“So you’ve been gathering medical supplies to look after her here instead,” Valvatorez put together, looking over boxes of bandages, thermometers and stethoscopes.

“That’s also why I need more vassals, to take my rightful place as overlord of these netherworld streets as soon as possible,” he said resolutely. “I need to make them safe for Sicily, and to make sure I can get her everything she wants.”

“But, Prince, you hate all the girly stuff she wants,” Etna teased.

“Shut up! It’s the principle – If my sister wants it, then every piece of gutter trash in this city should bend over backwards to get it for her,” Laharl huffed, seating himself forcefully on the medical bed and knocking a few more chunks of padding loose.

“I have to say,” Valvatorez agreed, “I wouldn’t mind a little more order being brought to these streets; the resultant fighting since the death of your father has led to far more work for my friend. Not to mention all of the systemic factors involved in one’s health that are directly impacted by the lack of funding the city council assigns to what should be their top priority – I mean, really! Who is running this city?!”

Impressive as the rapidly histrionic escalation had been, “Who is this crazy guy?” Laharl had to ask.

“I kept trying to tell you, Prince,” Etna said; “I’m pretty sure this is Valvatorez.”

“Wait, THE Valvatorez? As in the Street Tyrant?” Laharl assessed their dramatic visitor. “But he’s such a pipsqueak.”

“Spoke the pot to the kettle,” Valvatorez parried. “I, am indeed the Street Tyrant known as Valvatorez! Although I never met your father, I had a great deal of respect for ‘King’ Krichevskoy, as well as having sympathy for your situation. Therefore, my offer from before still stands.”

“Hmhm, I like the idea of making the Street Tyrant my vassal,” Laharl said.

“I think we should take him up on his offer, Prince,” Etna advised. “If his friend’s a nurse maybe she can help us work out what we actually need, instead of all this random junk we stole. Plus I really just want to get somewhere with a working shower – I’m sick of ‘showering’ using that outside hose at the garage down the street!”

“Well, I suppose having a nurse vassal would be useful...” Looking around, Laharl nodded and hopped down to a bag slung against old orange crates near the foot of the bed. He tossed it at Valvatorez, “Here. This is what we stole. Now take us to your nurse friend.”

After a quick assessment that it was indeed all of the stolen goods, “Very well,” Valvatorez led the way.

~DOOD~

“One lemonade for Etna,” Artina served onto the repurposed office desk between them, “and one coffee for Laharl.”

“Are you seriously going to drink that, Prince?” Etna eyed up his plain coffee as she took the first sips from her curly straw.

“Coffee is what adults drink – I’m not afraid of it!” Yet he was staring into his cup awfully hesitantly. “I’m just... waiting for it to cool.”

“Riiight.”

“Thank you for returning my supplies to me,” Artina began, taking her seat opposite with tea.

“They shouldn’t have stolen them in the first place...” Valvatorez muttered from his seat beside her, lounging back with his own tea.

Artina merely shook her head at him. “So, your sister is being treated in the children’s hospital uptown?”

“That’s right,” Laharl said, still ‘waiting for his coffee to cool’. “I want to know what we need to take care of her here instead.”

“Many patients do benefit from being in a more comfortable home environment with their family,” Artina agreed. “Does your sister want to be cared for at home by you?”

“Of course she does!” Laharl said, summoning a deep breath and forcing the first drink of coffee into his mouth. “Holy crap! That’s-!”

While he coughed and spluttered, and Valvatorez smirked, Etna took over, “We haven’t been able to see her since Laharl’s father died. Our friend Flonne has been looking in on her though, so we know she’s okay.”

“Flonne?” Artina perked up. “Would that be Flonne Lamington?”

“Yeah. You know her?”

“Yes, very well actually!” Artina enthused. “She does such great charity work for this city! I always help collect donations for her fundraisers, like her latest one to purchase a new fleet of ambulances for the main hospital. Although,” she had to admit, “I’m not so sure about the giant robot design she picked for them...”

“Hey, everyone gets right out of the way when they see a Flonzor Ambulance X hurtling down the street towards them,” Etna mentioned with a grin.

After a particularly good splutter, “S-So, can you help us or not?” Laharl demanded, wiping his mouth off on the back of his hand.

“Well, that depends a lot on what your sister’s condition is.”

“Uhh...”

Etna rolled her eyes. “It’s got some really long and complicated name. Even I can’t remember how to pronounce it, but I learnt how to write it down for things like this.” She jotted quickly on a nearby newspaper edge, passing it across to Artina.

Whatever the name was seemed to defeat even Artina’s medical training for a moment, before her face slowly fell. “This... I’m afraid this isn’t a condition anyone could care for a child with outside of a proper hospital.”

“Don’t give me that crap,” Laharl demanded. “Whatever equipment they’ve got, we’ll get it too and then we can look after her.”

Setting the newspaper back down gently, “Your sister has episodes where she needs to be treated in an Intensive Care Unit, doesn’t she?”

“Well... Now and then,” he admitted. “Less now than when she was younger.”

“Yeah, it’s been months since the last one,” Etna backed up.

Artina shook her head. “At her age she wouldn’t last the journey time to get her there if she was being cared for at home, and you simply couldn’t set up everything that would be required for an ICU at home. It’ll be different when she’s older and her body is stronger – How old did you say she was?”

“She’s 9,” Laharl chewed on. “How much older would she need to be?”

“It really depends on the individual patient,” Artina said. “But perhaps in a few years, if she’s strong.”

“She’s really strong,” he insisted. “She’s always super annoying and cheerful every time I go – She couldn’t be that annoying if she wasn’t super healthy!”

Artina laughed, but softened again. “Laharl, you wouldn’t want to risk what might happen if she was taken home too early and had a bad episode, would you?” He looked away, glaring at his banished coffee. “You might be able to start having her home for short visits, a night or two here and there, in a year or so if the doctors say she’s doing well. But she needs to stay where she is for now.”

“...Damn it,” he accepted almost silently.

“We’ll be able to care for her then?” Etna checked though.

“Yes, you’d be able to learn the basic care duties she’d need,” Artina said. “But it’s a lot to ask of children your age – The doctors may not trust you would be able to take care of her adequately, and legally they couldn’t entrust her to you anyway without an adult to take care of you all.”

“We’re able to look after ourselves, and we’d be able to look after her too, whatever those idiots think!” he objected.

“‘Look after yourselves’ – How does that explain the dump I found you squatting in?” Valvatorez questioned, sipping at his tea as he lounged back really quite unconcerned with all this.

“That was- We were focusing on getting medical supplies for Sicily,” Laharl defended. “Fine then!” he declared more dramatically. “One year from now we’ll be taking care of ourselves so well, in a proper house with an adult to serve us and everything, that those idiot doctors will have to agree Sicily can come stay with us!”

“Visit us,” Etna tried to correct him.

“And when I’m older,” Laharl continued, standing with legs wide and folded arms, “I’ll run this whole netherworld and be able to hire all the trained doctors and equipment she needs! This I vow, as Laharl Krichevskoy!”

“Umm...” Artina cocked her head slightly, unsure how amused she could get away with being.

Valvatorez though, “...This is what you promise, is it?” he asked, pausing in his indifferent tea-sipping.

“Indeed!”

“Your sister will be counting on you – Do you accept the responsibility of what it would mean to her were you unable to fulfil your word?”

“I vowed it on my reputation and name as Laharl Krichevskoy – Which part of that don’t you understand?!”

His face bowing into shadow, the dark chuckling that begun couldn’t help but even make Artina lean away slightly. “Very well!” Valvatorez stood up to declare as well, the tea that jumped up from his cup with the motion caught deftly back in the same cup with only a few drops spilled. “In that case I shall be your instructor in the independence and skills you will require!”

“Oh, so you do want to be my vassal after all,” Laharl perked up warmly. “I accept your offer, Street Tyrant – From henceforth you are my vassal!”

Etna stared, face flattening into confused incredulity. “What language are they speaking?” she asked Artina.

“I don’t know,” Artina admitted in great amusement. “But I’m glad Mr. Tyrant has found a friend who speaks his special language.”

“He is not my ‘friend’,” Valvatorez scorned, tutting. “He will be my student, and I his instructor.” She shook her head fondly, allowing him to please himself. “And you, Lass?” he now asked of Etna. “What will you do?”

“Me?” Etna just sort of shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just a street kid the King picked up; he’s the only one who ever saw any worth in me. Really, I’ll just go anywhere I can live now.”

“You’re going to let everyone seeing no worth in you as reason to prove them right?” Valvatorez asked.

“Hey, that’s not what I-!” She bit her lip, frowning at him before turning away. “Tch... I want to prove them all wrong, but it’s not so easy, y’know?” When she scowled at him again, “Can I come with you and the Prince?”

Valvatorez put one hand on a sassy hip. “I don’t know. Can you?”

Growling slightly, “I’m coming with you two, whether you like it or not!” she stood up as well, slamming her empty lemonade glass down on the table.

“Good,” Valvatorez simply nodded.

Then Artina spoke up, “Where are you all going?” halting the moment.

“...Ah,” Valvatorez realised, taking his chin in hand to consider. “I still haven’t found anywhere to go myself.”

“Oh great,” Etna sassed, falling back into her seat.

“I’m working on it!” Valvatorez insisted.

“You’re all welcome to stay here in the meantime,” Artina assured them, starting to collect up the finished drinks. “If we need extra room for patients, I’m sure Mr. Tyrant wouldn’t mind sharing my bedroom upstairs.”

Valvatorez stammered and flustered excessively as Laharl recoiled. “Lovey-dovey couples like you are disgusting!”

“We are not a c-couple!” Valvatorez wanted to make clear, ignoring Etna’s snickering.

“Don’t worry, I’m only teasing Mr. Tyrant,” Artina assured Laharl as she collected his cooled coffee. “Didn’t you like the coffee, Little Prince?”

“No! You obviously made it wrong!” he insisted. “A-And don’t call me that!” Having apparently already learnt how to become easily flustered by her from their instructor, “Get on with finding us a place to live already!” he commanded his new ‘vassal’. “I don’t want to stay here any longer than we have to,” Laharl added, eyeing up Artina’s body warily.

As Valvatorez started thinking again, “Um,” Etna spoke up, “I think I might know a place, actually.”

~DOOD~

“It’s a dump!” Laharl declared, kicking trash away that had dared come too close to his majestic feet.

“Jeez,” Etna agreed, picking her way around the soggy cardboard strewn over the stone flags of the yard, “I thought the King was doing this joint up.”

“What is this place?” Valvatorez asked, trying to see past the graffiti and broken windows to what this large, plain shoe box of a building ought to be.

“It’s a homeless shelter,” Etna explained. “Or it used to be, but then it fell into disrepair and got shut down. He bought it to do back up and reopen it.”

“Soft-hearted fool...” Laharl scorned.

“Although he did want to help the homeless people around here, he actually bought it to stop this whole area being redeveloped.”

“Redeveloped?” Valvatorez looked around the renownedly dilapidated and derelict streets, most buildings abandoned to squatters without even token resistance.  “But of course – Practically no one lives in this area of the netherworld, so there’d be no one to object to its redevelopment.”

“Exactly, that’s Carter’s whole plan; he wants to turn this area into midtown suburbs and a shopping district.”

“No bastard is going to turn my netherworld into some gentrified shopping mall!” Laharl objected, kicking a nearby fast food wrapper that exploded into mouldy bread and lettuce against the building wall.

“Wow, that’s a big word for you, Prince!”

“Shut up and tell me what we do to stop this bastard stealing my netherworld!”

“That’s exactly why your father bought this place,” Etna gestured again at the trashed shell of the building. “He couldn’t buy the whole area up but this place is central to it, and if it was being used to help rejuvenate the area things were bound to rule in his favour instead of Carter’s.”

“I see... Not bad, old man,” Laharl actually commended.

“Well, that likely explains the state this place is in,” Valvatorez said, walking closer to the shapeless, generic graffiti on the walls. “I would imagine this Carter hired some goons to rough the place up after Laharl’s father died to ensure his redevelopment plans would be approved.”

“Yeah, that sounds like something he’d do,” she admitted.

Valvatorez turned back to her. “You seem to know quite a lot about this. You wouldn’t happen to know the deadline for the approval or rejection of the redevelopment, would you?”

“Uhh... I think I remember him saying something about it being ‘on course for the end of next month’,” she offered. “But that was last month, before he died. So I think it’s the end of this month.”

“The end of the month?!” Valvatorez staggered slightly. “That’s the end of this week!”

“Damn it!” Laharl also shouted, punching the air in lieu of having anything better. “Who is this Carter bastard? Can we go kill him?”

Etna shrugged, and the kids could only look to their instructor.

Valvatorez was stood back slightly, considering the building over once again. He also considered the immense amount of littered trash around its broken-fenced yard, not to mention whatever had been dumped inside and was openly poking through the busted windows in some place. “...I believe,” he finally declared, “I may have a better solution to all this corruption.”

~DOOD~

“I’m so whacked!” Etna complained, sagging forward for extra bonus drama on the cake. “I can’t believe you’re making us go out again after working us like dogs all day!”

“And getting that nurse lady to jab us with needles...” Laharl grumbled too.

“Do you want to contract tetanus?” Valvatorez asked over his shoulder to the two children.

“I don’t want to be cleaning up rusty metal I could get it from in the first place!” He glared at Valvatorez’s silent back. “I still say we should just kill this Carter bastard...”

“Same...” Etna sighed wearily. “How do you even know these runaways will be out here? They could be anywhere in the city by now.”

“The report Artina received saw the two girls entering a train station which terminates at the turnaround ahead,” Valvatorez said. “If they were running from their group home they will have travelled as far as possible in flight.”

“You don’t know that.”

He half-glanced back briefly. “One doesn’t survive long on these streets without attaining a good grasp of human psychology, particularly that of humans reduced to their most primal instincts.”

While Laharl scratched his head in confusion, “Okay,” Etna admitted, “but I still don’t get how we’re gonna ever find them even if they did get off here.”

Valvatorez didn’t answer, leaving the kids to simply groan and continue dragging their tired, grubby shoes after him.

They halted outside the silent train station archway, one late-night departure trundling away down the distant tracks. Here Valvatorez looked around between the path they had come along, a hotel and apartment-lined street, and the other leading away towards construction site barriers and obscuring hedges. It was that second path he took, “This way,” leading them on.

At the path’s next junction, this time they looked at a road that led to business premises and the parking lot of a shopping centre, and another that ran off with nothing but streetlights and poorly-maintained hedges. Again, “Come,” they took the second path.

“Okay,” Laharl finally demanded after another five minutes walking down the destination-less road, only a couple of cars passing them all the while, “where the hell are we going?”

“Where not many other people do,” Valvatorez answered simply. “I don’t believe it’ll be long now.”

The kids made all the best noises of protest they knew as he dragged them on, something he seemed neither fazed nor moved by.

Valvatorez only silenced them when they approached a road bridge ahead, currently on the high road that crossed a small, ill-kept linking street below. The kids were curious enough to obey, following his slower pace down the rubble steps that let pedestrians descend to the lower road.

Around the brick corner of the bridge, hiding between two of the concrete supporting pillars, were a couple of teenage girls huddled up in nothing but shirts and shorts, shivering in the late summer night.

The girls startled, but their wariness made them simply get to their feet rather than attempt to run.

“Wh-Who are you?” The one with a bushy ponytail of grey hair took a martial arts stance in front of the other, her soft voice doing its passable best to sound aggressive.

“We’re not here on behalf of your group home,” Valvatorez took the lead. “However, they are searching for you.” The girl in front now ducked her head slightly, yellow eyes fixing him cautiously. “I am Valvatorez!” he thought to introduce in an effort to be calming, even if his usual dramatics rather ruined the intent. “My friend is a nurse, and she received a report about the two of you. Since I seem to have developed a habit of assisting children left to the streets,” he glanced round briefly at the other two behind him, “I thought you might desire our assistance.”

The girl in front was still up on the balls of her feet, ready for a fight, but did ask, “Oh, like a homeless charity?”

“Yes, something of that ilk,” he supposed for the first time, playing with the sound of it. “In any case, there is no need for you to come with us; I can understand you have no reason to trust us at present. But if we can assist you in getting any food or medical treatment, for example, we would do that if you prefer.”

Both girls remained nervously still, almost like small animals waiting for their safe chance to run.

“You have run from your home,” Valvatorez continued in that case; “what is your plan now? Do you intend to live on the streets? I presume you have no family to go to if you were already in social care.”

Shame put the two girls into a more defensive posture, uncertainty causing them to glance at each other briefly but without coming up with any answers.

“Hey,” Etna stepped forward towards them, “that bell,” she indicated on the closer girl’s chest. “You’re a daughter of the Felynn gang, aren’t you?”

The girl put her hands around the bell protectively, “Oh! Y-Yes, I am. We were thinking about trying to find them, but they’ve all gone into hiding after the raids earlier this year. That’s when my mother...”

“Prison?” Valvatorez guessed from the girl’s downcast expression. And she nodded. “Have they allowed you to visit her?”

“N-No,” she said. “All the places I’ve been sent to, they said I wasn’t allowed, that it’d be a bad influence on me...”

“Hey,” Laharl loudly whispered to Etna, “which one are the Felynn gang again?”

“They’re that all-female gang with cat-eared hoods. If the gang members have kids, once they’re old enough to say what their gender is the girls are kept while other genders are sent away to live with their fathers.”

“Yes, I don’t know who my father is,” the girl answered. “I-I’m Rutile, by the way. Um... You really won’t send us back to the home, or tell them where we are, Mr. Valvatorez?”

“No, rest assured,” he said. “From what the report said, it doesn’t seem it was a particularly well-suited environment for the two of you.”

“Oh. No. That... That was my fault...” Rutile said awkwardly. “After I realised I had accidentally broken that other girl’s arm I was scared they’d send me back to a detention centre again, so...”

“Detention centre?” Valvatorez questioned.

“Um, yes. Early on they weren’t sure what to do with me, so because of my mother they sent me to...”

His face hardened. “Why did you break that girl’s arm? What did she do to you?”

“I-I...” Rutile stammered to a surprised halt, processing the second question. “She... She was being mean to Pleinair,” she indicated the blue-haired girl stood silently behind her. “They’re always mean to us, because of my mother and because Pleinair has difficulty talking to others. Pleinair is the only one who’s been nice to me this whole time, so I won’t let people bully her!”

Pleinair pulled her folded arms up slightly, the white bunny in them flopping as she murmured something into the back of its head.

Rutile had turned to listen, nodding. “Wh-What would happen if we came with you, Mr. Valvatorez?”

“Ah, well, we’re still working on getting a place of our own-”

“Yeah, with our slave labour,” Etna butted in.

He only frowned at her. “But there are enough beds you could come stay at the clinic we’re currently residing at. Our new residence is due to be completed at the end of the week, however due to our rather limited workforce,” Both of whom were pouting behind him, “we would value all the assistance we can muster.”

“Oh, are you fixing it up?” Rutile perked up. “I-I love to help with things like that!” She turned round as Pleinair said something quietly behind her, agreeing, “It’d be just like Animal Crossing!”

“A really grimy, back-breaking version filled with hazardous waste, yeah,” Etna muttered.

“Once we have the place habitable we’ll certainly have bedrooms for the two of you,” Valvatorez assured them. “Then we can see about arranging visits to see your mother.”

Rutile blinked. “You’ll... You’ll let me see my mother?”

“Of course.”

Her whole body vibrated with a quiver of joy. “I-I’m certain I’ll be a hassle to you all,” Rutile confessed, bowing her head forward, “but if you really wouldn’t mind...”

“And you, Pleinair?” Valvatorez asked.

She looked to Rutile, and then nodded silently.

“How come she doesn’t speak?” Laharl asked carelessly, earning an elbow jab from Etna.

“I-I don’t know,” Rutile said. “None of the staff even knew about her family or history.”

“That’s not a problem,” Valvatorez assured, addressing Pleinair again. “When we have settled, would you care to look into any alternative or augmented forms of communication?”

She stepped a little closer to speak her small answer from behind the rabbit’s head. “Usagi...”

“You wish for Usagi to speak for you?”

She nodded, and Usagi nodded with her.

“Very well.”

“You really don’t mind?” Rutile asked in surprise. “It’s just, all the other homes and places we’ve been sent to have always tried to get her to speak normally.”

“So long as she understands others cannot comprehend sentiments she does not communicate, her method of communication is her choice to make.” Sweeping his coat up dramatically, “Now come! The night is growing cold, and this is no place for lone children.”

“R-Right!” Rutile hurried after him, Pleinair following without the same nerves. “Oh, Mr. Valvatorez! If you help homeless children you should probably know there are lots in the area south of here.”

“Lots?”

“Yes. We ran into them when we were trying to find a bathroom earlier.” Behind her, Pleinair tightened her arms around Usagi as Rutile also grew somewhat nervous. “When they realised that we were homeless they tried to make us go with them, quite forcefully, saying they were also ‘lost’. They scared us though, so we ran away.”

“Children forcibly recruiting others from the streets...?” He frowned, his dark expression considering things beyond the comprehension of his gaggle of following kids. They all looked to each other with shrugs, only able to trail along behind. “Well, there’s no need to concern yourselves with them now. We’ll look after you from here on.”

Tucking up Usagi beneath her chin, “Happy...” Pleinair walked a little bit closed behind him.

~DOOD~

“Right, children!” Valvatorez declared atop a small crate that only emphasised his lacking height. “This morning we shall be having a lesson on the correct handling of hazardous waste. This afternoon, we will then learn home repair and maintenance.”

“R-Right!” Rutile acknowledged, forming fists of readiness.

Pleinair stared on blankly, Usagi doing the same from her folded arms.

Laharl and Etna though, “Lesson? What is this crap?”

“Yeah, no one said anything about lessons.”

Valvatorez folded his arms, patiently keeping to a simple frown. “As your newly-authorised guardian, it is now my legal responsibility to see that you all receive an adequate education-”

“Wait, there’s no way you got the paperwork to become our guardians processed already,” Etna interjected. “It took months when the King adopted me.”

Valvatorez chuckled ominously. “Let us just say I have some old acquaintances in the right places for these things.” While the kids were unsure quite what to make of that, he continued, “As homeschooling can be considered a sufficient fulfilment of that legal requirement, we will hence be having these lessons today as part of your homeschooling curriculum.”

“Oh, I see,” Laharl finally cottoned on. “Really you’re just gonna make us fix up this dump again, but by calling it ‘lessons’ you can legally get away with it – Not bad.”

“If you wish to put it in such crude terms, yes,” Valvatorez said as he stepped down from his crate. “Now, we still need to remove the remaining rubbish from the kitchen, but we’ll have to allow it a chance to air out before we can properly clean it tomorrow. In the meantime we’ll be fixing up the broken sections of the yard fence to ensure our efforts cannot be undone overnight.” He clapped his hands, signalling for them to begin by following him.

The sight of the two feet of garbage dumped over the floor of the spacious kitchen was enough to make Laharl and Etna groan already, knowing what was coming. Valvatorez set them to work bagging all the smaller trash on the counters and cupboards, “And setting fire to the trash does not count as removing it, need I remind you!” before turning to the two new girls. “Now, will you both assist me in carrying out the larger items from the floor?”

“Yes, Mr. Valvatorez!” Rutile set right to work with the upmost earnestness, gloves on and straight over to the broken standing lamps and fans stacked on top of the pile.

Pleinair was looking down at Usagi in her arms though. She lifted his little arms, but they weren’t going to be able to lift much garbage for removal at their size.

“You should keep Usagi safe from all the hazardous items we’ll be handling today,” Valvatorez said.

She nodded.

“Do you want to set him aside someplace, or...?”

He watched her lift Usagi up, taking him behind her head to attempt to tuck into the back of her shirt. Intervening gently, Valvatorez helped Usagi find a comfortable and tight position he wouldn’t slip from where he could remain with her at all times.

Pleinair moved her head around, checking, before she made an OK sign and pulled out her gloves to put on.

“Excellent.” Gesturing, she followed his instruction to come grab one end of a water-damaged coffee table sprawled on its side between two ovens.

“This junk is super weird,” Etna commented as she went to throw her first full bag of trash onto the disposal pile outside. “It’s all furniture and other household stuff.”

“Houses often need to be cleared, especially in this area of town,” Valvatorez said. “The proper disposal of waste is a problem humanity has faced since ancient times, and it continues to this day.”

“What about landfills and tips? Isn’t that where this stuff is meant to go?”

“Ah, but one must pay for the transportation to those places, all housed in locations far from civilisation for obvious reasons. Not only that but there’s also often a fee involved for private businesses and individuals.”

“They should just incinerate it all,” Laharl decided as he hurled his first two bags out the door onto the pile.

“Hmhm, not all waste can be disposed of via your preferred method, Laharl,” Valvatorez said. “Although the incineration of waste can now be used to produce renewable energy, with the right equipment.”

“In that case we oughta get them to pay us for all this crap then, if they can make electricity out of it.”

As Valvatorez ushered them to stop scheming and get back to cleaning, “Um, Mr. Valvatorez?” Rutile interrupted. “Should we put electrical items in a separate pile?”

“Ah, yes, ideally- My word!” He finally saw the girl, or what was visible of her behind the massive flat-screen TV she was carrying. “How are you able to carry something that size all by yourself?!”

With only a little effort, Rutile was even able to carefully set it down a few feet from the rest of the waste, shards of glass tinkling from its broken screen to the ground. “O-Oh, it’s nothing! My mother used to do muscle training with the rest of the gang, and I liked to join in. I know it’s not very a-appropriate for a young girl but-”

“Your body is your own,” Valvatorez said. “Don’t let them tell you what you should or shouldn’t do with it – If you want to have massive, rock-hard muscles, then you go ahead and have massive, rock-hard muscles!”

“I-I don’t quite want- Um, yes, Mr. Valvatorez!” She bowed to him. “Thank you!”

He nodded, turning back to the home that still needed a lot more cleaning.

~DOOD~

“Right this way, Council Warden Axel,” Valvatorez led the way through the open gates for Axel and his entourage.

Axel whistled appreciably, shielding his eyes against the afternoon sun. “Hey-hey, not bad! This place looked like a total dump in the photos but this isn’t half bad at all.”

“I-It’s not-!” The bald man following Axel began to splutter. “There’s still spray paint on the front door! And big stains all over this yard!”

“Eh, they can paint over that,” Axel shrugged lackadaisically. “So, you want my permission to turn this place into, like, one of those care home thingies for orphaned kids?”

“Yes!” Valvatorez stood before the building, throwing out his ragged, over-sized coat. “I intend to provide a safe and supportive home for minors abandoned to these downtown streets, as well as a reformative educational program suitable for juvenile delinquents or the children of criminals and gang members to prevent them from going the way of their parents. The strict but caring curriculum I will provide may not suit every child, and I can only take in so many, but I will welcome those with the potential to thrive in this environment, however difficult they may be – Those with the potential of sardines!” Again he punctuated his dramatic declaration with a flaring of his coat. “Your secretary should have all the details in the paperwork I submitted,” he did add more formally though.

Axel looked to his short, pink-clad secretary who nodded it was all in order. “Nice. Things with kids make great photo opportunities,” he considered. “And kids are great themselves – They love me!”

Stood over closer to the building, “Who the hell is this posturing buffoon? And what the hell is up with his eyebrows?” Laharl scorned.

Etna kicked him in the shin. “Shut up, Prince. He’s an idiot, but he’s our ticket to keeping the netherworld under our control.”

“My control, you mean.”

“Uh, yeah,” Etna pretended.

“He can’t simply be allowed to start a home for abandoned children!” the bald man stepped forward beside Axel, gesturing at Valvatorez. “Who is he?! What are his qualifications?! There’s no way he can have completed all the necessary bureaucracy for this!”

“Chill, Carter,” Axel waved him down. “Valvatorez is a decent guy-”

“‘Valvatorez’?! The Street Tyrant Valvatorez?!” Carter spluttered. “You’re going to allow someone like that to care for children?!”

“Hey, Valvatorez is a bro,” Axel laid down calmly. “He got this place cleaned up, and those kids over there wanted him to be their legal guardian,” He jacked a thumb at the four children waiting politely or less so over by the building, “so he obviously knows what he’s doing. I say let him.” Valvatorez nodded at such sage idiocy.

Carter pressed forward again. “But what about the redevelopment plans?! This area was to be at the very centre of them – You surely can’t be planning to scrap such important plans!”

“‘Important’?!” Laharl squawked from afar, before, “Ow!” being kicked to keep quiet again.

“Oh, was that scheduled for round here?” Axel scratched lazily at his cheek, provoking a gritting of teeth from Carter. “Eh, it didn’t have that much public support or anything. No big deal.”

“But-!”

“‘sides,” Axel continued, “the Mayor’s behind this initiative of Valvatorez’s – He told me personally.” He preened slightly, flashing a grin. “So I guess he also wants to scrap that whole redevelopment idea.”

“What?!” Carter’s large forehead was turning a nice shade of red above his furrowed brows. “The Mayor wouldn’t scrap my plans, that wasn’t part of the agreement-!”

“‘Agreement’?” Valvatorez picked up on, sharp gaze focused on Carter.

The other man had no problem returning it. “I don’t know what underhanded trick you pulled-”

“Trick? I now have official responsibility and decision-making power over this property as the legal guardian of its owner Laharl,” Valvatorez indicated the boy. “All property owners in the redevelopment area have a right to consultation with local officials, and I merely used mine to put across my plans for the building. I cannot be held responsible if the Mayor considered my plans more persuasive than yours, Carter.” He smiled a little too gladly.

Carter stalked up to him, close enough to privately spit, “I’ll get you for this, Valvatorez. And if you have the Mayor’s ear so amiably, you should tell him to remember his position.”

Valvatorez regarded him darkly but without losing the smile, simply watching as Carter turned and stormed away.

“Whatever, don’t mind him,” Axel said. “He’s always such a grumpypants. Really kills meetings when I’m just trying to vibe, y’know?”

“Frankly, and quite gladly, I have no idea about you ‘vibing’, Warden Axel,” Valvatorez said, covering his face with one hand. “But if we’re in agreement then, and everything’s in order...”

Axel turned to his secretary once again. “Everything is signed and accounted for, Mr. Axel, mew. As per the Mayor’s request, I’ve made the necessary space in the budget to provide the funding, mew.”

“Sweet. In that case I’ve gotta go get ready for my next press conference, Valvatorez. Good luck and, uh, all that.” He waved lazily in their direction, already on his way to important things. “Let’s roll, Pink.”

Valvatorez sighed, finally letting a little of the tension out of his shoulders.

“So...” The kids had walked up behind him, Etna taking the lead, “we won? Carter’s totally foiled?”

“Yes. With both Axel and the Mayor behind us he won’t be able to do a thing.”

“You’re seriously friends with that Axel idiot?” Laharl asked, staring at the gaudy, white car with black tiger stripes rolling away down the street.

“Sadly,” Valvatorez admitted. “But he has his uses.”

“So this is really our home now?” Rutile asked. “We get to stay here with you?”

“Indeed, this is our home now, children!” Valvatorez declared to them, throwing his arms out to bask in its glory.

“It’s still a dump,” Laharl said.

“And it still smells like garbage,” Etna added.

“Oh, shush.”

“Hungry...” Pleinair said from behind Usagi.

“All right, time to eat,” Valvatorez agreed, beginning to chuckle. “I made sure to buy lots of cans of sardines, so we can have a feast of Clupeidae goodness tonight to celebrate!”

“Um, not that sardines aren’t nice and all, Mr. Valvatorez, but it might be nice to have something else for a change,” Rutile suggested meekly.

“Seriously...” Etna agreed with a groan.

“I’m really starting to wonder if this was such a good idea after all...” Laharl grumbled.

Chapter Text

“Where would be the best place to store a first aid kit, Mr. Instructor? The kitchen, or your room?” Artina presented a decent-sized example of the item in question, one decorated with child-friendly, coloured penguins.

“Ah...” Valvatorez considered, “the kitchen I believe, for the closest proximity to the majority of likely injuries.”

She chuckled, “Are Laharl and Etna still working on their cookery skills?” leading the way in that direction.

Valvatorez followed her from the second of the large downstairs rooms, the one at the back with hardwood flooring and a set of newly installed desks. “Though excellently proficient with fire and knives, they still lack more than somewhat in the subtle application of those skills required for cooking,” he sighed. “Currently we manage adequately as I can oversee the four in their meal preparations, but as I take on more charges I’m afraid that will likely become unfeasible to sustain.”

“It’s not your fault, Mr. Instructor; most institutions like this have a dedicated cook among their staff. You’re doing incredibly to manage so much all by yourself,” she said, briefly glancing round to smile at him.

Valvatorez stammered wordlessly, cheeks flushing, before coughing it away politely as he followed in her wake. “I-I... The example you set for me at your clinic in caring for your patients is all I’m attempting to m-match.”

“Where should I put this?” she asked of the first aid kit, looking around the mostly serviceable kitchen aside from one corner of fire-damaged cupboards still to be replaced. He indicated a clear space under the newly-installed and already-grafittied whiteboard as the most suitable home. “How many children do you plan to take in? We were only able to get half a dozen old desks from the Evil Academy Nether Institute in the end.”

“There are seven bedrooms upstairs, including my own, each comfortably capable of housing two people or uncomfortably three. Realistically I would estimate this building can home only slightly over a dozen people anyway, so I certainly wouldn’t be looking at more than that.” He watched her place the first aid kit down so caringly, squaring it up neatly ready for whomever might need it next, that his breath caught in his throat for a moment simply watching her. “A-Any child suited to this environment and in need of a home will have a place here; the number doesn’t matter to me. It... It’s very kind of you, by the way, to gift us a first aid kit like this.”

She glanced round again. “I don’t like to think of anyone having to go without the help they need, particularly the sort of children you take in here. So this is just in case – Oh, and remind me to bring some vitamin D tablets for when winter rolls around the next time I come to do the children’s check-ups. I’ll always come round to help you with any medical or other issues any time.”

“Th-Thank you,” Valvatorez expressed, returning her smile. “I truly am grateful to have your assistance and support in this, Artina. I... Well, I wouldn’t even be here now without you,” he chuckled, gaze drifting distantly.

“That’s just what friends do for each other,” she said simply, crossing one leg in front of her. “Oh, and by the way, the initial supplies in the first aid kit are free but I’ll be charging you for any replacements from here on.” His gaze returned to the reality in front of him, red eyes flatly narrowed. “I have to make a living, Mr. Instructor,” she retorted to the look.

“Yes, speaking of,” he continued, “I’m surprised you have the time to assist for entire days here, as you have been. What of your patients at the clinic?”

Her leg crossed back, now tucking slightly awkwardly behind her. “I haven’t actually had any real patients all week.”

“All week?” he questioned. “When I was there someone would be coming in for something every other day at least.”

“A few regulars have come by for their routine treatments, and it’s not as if I haven’t had any patients,” Artina said, “but it’s all been very quiet really. Too quiet almost. Although I should be glad for that...”

“Hm?” he prompted.

She considered it carefully, not for the present company or situation, but for what she wanted to admit and consider herself. “...I haven’t been seeing any gang members at all for the past fortnight, Mr. Tyrant,” Artina finally answered. “After the uptick in activity when Laharl’s father died, something isn’t right. Normally I have to bandage some poor teenager who’s been stabbed or shot at least once a week, but I haven’t even had any coming in needing a warm meal or contraceptives for over a month. Although we should be grateful, I’m particularly worried about the complete drop-off I’ve had in children and teenagers.”

Valvatorez stood with a firm quietness, seeing how her hands were clasped with such a sad expression, but he had nothing he could say either. Murmuring voices from the TV in the main room, his four children occupied harmlessly and lazily, filled the silence but ill-fittingly, a beckoning distraction one could bury their head in. But Valvatorez continued to frown, remaining unsatisfied.

Watching him, Artina lifted her own smile back up, “Well, I should just be glad for the chance to catch up on all the little things I’ve been meaning to do.”

“Such as?” He allowed himself to turn from the issue as well. “I really feel I ought to repay all this assistance you’ve been giving me of late, Artina.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mr. Instructor; I see it as part of my job as a nurse to ensure my patients can be discharged to a safe and happy environment afterwards,” she said. “Besides, it’s only rather boring chores I have to do myself like decluttering and inventorying my medical stocks.”

“Perhaps it’s a chance to work on that dream of starting a food bank of yours?” he suggested.

“Maybe,” Artina smiled distantly. “I still doubt I could ever secure the funding sources I would need though.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to have the other plans and paperwork in motion, should you find them one day.”

She chuckled. “I suppose not. Maybe I’ll receive more donations from mysterious, handsome men selling off their hair.” The teasing wink sent his cheeks red and then his expression a little touchy, before she laughed. Switching to a more serious, scolding tone, “But you better not give me any more donations yourself, Mr. Instructor; if you have the money to spare, spend it on the children here.”

“You really need have no fear of that, Artina. Not with the budget I receive...” he groused lightly. “With all the initial costs of set up over this past month and a half, it’ll likely be next year before I can recoup enough to even balance our outlays so far and begin saving a proper emergency fund.”

“Really? I gathered from Etna you’ve been giving the children weekly allowances, though it was in the context of a complaint about how small she felt it was.”

“200HL a week each is all I can afford for them currently; I did give my word I would raise it once capable of doing so,” he answered. “Proper financial literacy and management is a vital skill for children to learn, especially ones in their situation, so I felt it a vital outgoing to find space for in the budget.”

Artina studied him for long enough to slightly fluster him, especially with that smile. In a softened and honest voice, “You really are a good guardian, Mr. Instructor,” she told him.

“I-I’m just...” He flustered himself quiet, unsure how to finish that in front of her. Instead his silence accepted her words with a small nod, “It’s not something I ever imagined I would take to. But so long as one gives their all in whatever they do, that is all that truly matters!”

She could only laugh, “That’s just like you, Mr. Weirdo!” returning that usual edge of playfulness to her smile. “Did you see the city newspaper today? It seems you’ve been quite the inspiration actually.”

“What do you mean?”

“That man who was so opposed to you starting this home, Carter was it? He’s fostered a child of his own, it said.”

Valvatorez could only frown. “I can’t say he seemed the sort to have any interest in such a thing, not unless there was something in it for him.”

“It didn’t sound as if there could be anything to gain in it; although the boy he adopted is supposedly a young genius, he isn’t from a wealthy family or anything like that,” she said.

“Hmm...” Valvatorez reserved the rest of his judgement, adding it to the pile of matters to consider later. Such prudence had proven to be more than worthwhile when-

“I want to play Monster Hunter!”

“You know Sunday evenings are when we play Animal Crossing with Flonne, Prince! You should have played it earlier.”

“I didn’t want to play it earlier, I want to play it now!”

With a sighed groan, Valvatorez placed his hand over his face ready to enter the rapidly quarrelsome lounge.

“An instructor’s work is never done,” Artina teased with a wink.

~DOOD~

“Seriously?” Etna complained as they trudged in, rolls of garbage bags and heavy-duty gloves in hand. “Wasn’t clearing our own house enough? Why do we have to clear out this dump too?”

“Because we are in need of the funds and salvageable items it will provide,” Valvatorez answered instructively, using the broom he’d brought to sweep aside broken picture frame glass for his charges to follow safely behind him. “Now, Laharl and Etna shall handle the small items and trash to be bagged and carried out; make sure to set aside anything we can make use of or sell once cleaned up.”

“All this crap is worthless,” Laharl judged, looking around with a good scowl.

“Yeah, but never underestimate what you can get an idiot to pay for, Prince,” Etna pointed out a little more cheerfully. “We’ll be getting a commission on anything sellable we find, right?” she suggested to Valvatorez.

He smiled at the attempt. “All proceeds from this job will be going to balancing the group home’s initial outlays and providing for future contingencies.”

“Tch.” Etna also adopted a good scowl to match Laharl’s.

“Pleinair, will you assist me in the cleaning of broken glass, dirt and the like?” Valvatorez continued.

Pleinair pulled up the facemask hanging loose around her neck to cover her mouth, knotting it tight where Usagi sat in the back of her collar, before giving him an OK sign.

“Rutile, I will leave the larger and heavier items to you.”

“Y-Yes, Mr. Valvatorez!” Rutile accepted, balling her fists up ready to work.

“Let me know if you need any assistance with the particularly large ones.” With a nod, he set them to their tasks.

Valvatorez quickly ignored the game of throw-and-catch Laharl and Etna occupied the length of the detritus-strewn entrance hall with, seeing how far one could throw old clothes hangers or broken china that the other could still catch in an open garbage bag. It was more impressive watching the weaving shuttle of broken microwaves and toasters moving below the throws and through the gaps as Rutile industriously travelled to and from the kitchen beyond.

With Pleinair, he swept the front room strewn to one side with piled furniture, its faded fabric festering with dirt where an obvious attempt to save it from the warped and water-damaged fate of the hard flooring had been unsuccessful. The whole affair was now liberally sprinkled with broken glass, the cool air of a dull autumn afternoon still breezing in over uneven boards and a threadbare rug. She addressed the open floor space, Valvatorez himself taking the slightly more difficult task sweeping around the ruined furniture. A particularly loud crashing of china from out in the hallway gave him pause for a moment, but he considered it best to simply roll his eyes and plan to deal with it later.

“Clean...”

He turned to the even smaller than usual voice behind him, muffled by a face mask, and raised his eyebrows a fraction at the already swept floor. “Excellent. Take what you have out to the skip and then begin at the other end of the furnishings,” he indicated the far end piled particularly high with an over-turned sofa and matching armchair sat comfortably on top of its sacrificed friend.

With another OK sign she set to it, her exit into the hallway prompting another crashing of china, “Damn it! She got in the way of my throw!”

“Oh yeah, Prince, because that was totally Pleinair’s fault.”

Valvatorez only shook his head, crouching to sweep beneath the broken legs of a coffee table. It really seemed best to ignore all the juvenile noises and nonsenses going on, nothing that wouldn’t sort itself out once they got bored. Until he heard-

“Destroy...”

That snapped Valvatorez’s head up, seeing Pleinair back in the room and stood at the far end of the furniture pile with her BB pistol drawn, aim taken at something hiding in the gap behind the over-turned sofa.

He rushed over, finding it was a haggard boy of around her age with a combat knife drawn and similarly pointed at her, shaking slightly with each rough breath. Valvatorez held up a staying hand to Pleinair beside him, “Who are you?” as he addressed the boy.

A black headband was doing little to hold up blood-matted, silver hair anymore, the boy’s face beneath shadowed with the sunken features of exhaustion. His sharp, gold eyes seemed unfocused as he watched the two of them, posture defensively huddled into the corner at the same time it was awkwardly twisted as if he wanted to be ready to strike. He only continued to breathe rather shakily and rapidly.

“Are you lost?” Valvatorez tried again.

That produced a visceral response, “You’re with the Lost?!” the boy shifting forward with a wild aggressiveness. “St-Stay away or I’ll kill you! I’ll do it!” he yelled, but his voice trembled as badly as his limbs. The entrance of Laharl and Etna, come to investigate the noise, put open fear into his features. “I’m n-not going back!”

“What the hell’s he on about?” Laharl asked.

Valvatorez motioned for him to be quiet. “You don’t have to return anywhere,” he tried to assure the lad. “You look to be in need of assistance though, yes?”

“No!” The boy shrunk back as flat to the wall as he could get now, one leg twisted uncomfortably under him to do so. “I-I’m never going back!” He fumbled the knife round in his hands, pressing the point of the blade now to his own neck. “I’ll kill myself before I’ll let you take me back!”

Valvatorez leant back slightly in submission, gesturing for Pleinair to stow her gun. No fear assuaged, the boy continued to shake and gasp for air so violently he was almost in danger of stabbing himself accidentally.

Valvatorez felt a new presence behind his right elbow, Rutile having come to gently lean round and see, the movement causing the bell beneath her neck to softly ring.

The sound seemed to grab the boy’s attention, his gaze losing all focus but Rutile he now stared at mystified.

She stared back, meeting his gaze with her own calm anxiousness. His ragged breathing filled the silence of the impasse, a dragging minute of fear, before Rutile very tentatively stepped forward. “A-Are you okay?”

He only continued to stare at her, now with a vacant uncertainty.

She stepped into the end of the little space behind the sofa, almost seeming to have a calming effect as the shaking lapsed into a more involuntary quivering. “I-I’m Rutile. What’s your name?”

“...Ze...Zeroken,” he answered in a dry, tired voice.

Rutile crouched, the movement causing the quietest ringing of her bell again. That curious fixation returned to his gaze. “Oh. D-Do you like my bell?”

Zeroken stared blankly, taking a long moment before he could drag his focus back up to her face again. “You’re... Are you with the Lost?”

“Who are ‘the Lost’?” Etna muttered quietly.

Valvatorez frowned. “Not a clue.”

“No,” Rutile began to answer, “we’re not with...” before something struck her. “Wait, I think he means those children we met who were going round trying to force others to join their gang; they said they were ‘lost’.” Her realisation seemed to set him back on edge slightly, the knife in his hands lowered from his own throat but held with a tighter grip. “We’re not with the Lost,” Rutile told him gently. “They tried to force Pleinair and I to join too, but we ran away, and then Mr. Valvatorez here saved us. He’s a really nice man, and he looks after children who don’t have a home.”

“Y-You... You also ran away from the Lost?” Zeroken processed slowly, finally allowing the knife to begin drooping.

“Yes. We’ve got nothing to do with any of the gangs,” she assured him.

Valvatorez tested taking a step closer now, coming to crouch behind Rutile when Zeroken no longer reacted. “You don’t have to come live with us, or even come with us right now, Zeroken; we won’t make you go anywhere you don’t want to. But you’re injured, aren’t you?” The twisted leg beneath him, the blood matted in his hair and remnants of dried trickles running down his face, were too clear. “I can have a nurse come here to look at you, or we can help you to her clinic. Whatever you want to do now, you need to get those injuries seen to.”

After a moment holding out, “I...” the tension dropped dramatically from his limbs, body slumping in a terrible posture against the wall as the knife almost fell from his slack hands. “N-Nurse...”

“His adrenaline is wearing off,” Valvatorez said. “I’ll get Artina here. Rutile, stay beside him and make sure he stays conscious.”

“R-Right!” She took up a position a little closer, crouched on the dirty floor a couple of feet from Zeroken as he trembled, lidded eyes staring glassily in her direction.

Valvatorez’s phone was already ringing, but the other end wasn’t answering.

A full minute of ringing, and a text to contact him immediately, and he took another glance at the dire state Zeroken was clinging to. “Damn and blast... Sometimes Artina would leave her phone in the other room when tending to particularly complicated procedures – The one time she has a serious patient again...”

“He really doesn’t look so good,” Etna judged, the other children having clustered at the end of the over-turned sofa. “Should we see if there’s a first aid kit here or something?”

“We’d never find it amongst all this rubbish,” Valvatorez judged, phone still ringing endlessly, “let alone the chances of it being in a fit state to help.”

Rutile clasped her hands, before biting her lip and standing up. “I’ll carry him to Miss Artina’s clinic!”

“Carry him?!” Valvatorez staggered slightly. “He’s as big as you yourself must be, and her clinic is a good mile from here even as the crow flies!”

“I’m strong enough!” she insisted. “It could be ages before she checks her phone if she’s busy with a patient. If I jog, I can get him there in about twenty minutes!”

Valvatorez stared at her, the dialling sound still ringing without answer by his ear. After judging for a moment, “...All right. I’ll continue ringing, and if I do get through I’ll have her drive out to meet you; take the route that passes by Spirit Internment Cemetery and the Innocent Farm Daycare Centre.”

“R-Right!”

“Let’s get him onto your back then.” Valvatorez handed off his phone to Pleinair, allowing Rutile to pick up Zeroken easily from his slump to carry out into open space. He struggled, reaching out back towards an old and squashed backpack that had been crammed into the corner behind him, one Valvatorez fetched and helped onto his shoulders. “You best take this as well, just in case there’s anything important in here. Up you go now.”

Zeroken could provide little assistance to getting him up onto Rutile’s back, struggling simply to get his limbs into position around her, loose arms already threatening to slip off from around her neck however she supported him.

“...Tch.” Laharl stepped forward, “Don’t you dare get this dirty, okay?” removing his red scarf to bind around Zeroken’s arms and Rutile’s shoulders, holding him tight to her.

“Prince...” Etna said, almost in disbelief.

“Since I helped save your life that makes you my vassal now!” Laharl insisted, turning aside before anyone could get a good look at his expression. “You’ve got a lot of work to do to repay me, so you better not die, you hear?”

“Rutile,” Valvatorez addressed her again as she got Zeroken comfortable in the new position, “he appears to have injuries to his leg as well as head so is potentially concussed; you need to continue to keep him conscious during the journey.” He glanced briefly at the room’s broken windows, “It’s likely he’s been in here all night as well, so may be suffering from exposure. Relay all of this to Artina when you get to her.”

“Yes, I will! I’m going now!” she nodded to them, setting off in a jog already into the front hallway and out into the overgrown front garden, wading straight through the thick layer of dead leaves that spilled out onto the pavement beyond.

Zeroken’s breathing against her neck was calmer now, his trembling weak.

“Zeroken? Mr. Valvatorez said you can’t fall asleep, okay?”

“Mmm...”

“I’m sorry, I’m running as fast as I can!” she managed, having to pant for breath for a moment. “Just stay awake for twenty more minutes and then you can rest. Can you stay awake with me for twenty minutes?”

“Mm... ‘kay...”

The streets were thankfully clear, letting her not only run but think clearly as she tried to come up with something to keep him awake. “Do you have any parents, Zeroken?”

“Dunno... I was a Werewolf when I was... But I lost them...”

“Oh, you were in the Werewolf gang? My mother is a Felynn, but she’s in prison now.”

“Oh...”

“It’s okay – Mr. Valvatorez let me visit her for the first time a couple of weeks ago! He’s really nice, and I’m sure he’d let you stay with us if you wanted,” she said, leaping over a box of quickly expiring Halloween pumpkins left out for passers-by to take.

“Like Sensei...”

“Who’s ‘Sensei’?”

“He’s super cool, and strong, and helped me when... That’s why I ended up joining the Lost because his son said that he... But he was lying...”

“His son is a part of the Lost?”

“I was too weak to leave... I’m not strong like you...”

“I-I’m not strong,” Rutile insisted, barely pausing to look both ways as she rushed across a road.

“Heh... You are... I’m so weak, compared to you...”

“You’re not weak,” she panted out for him, “or else you wouldn’t have been able to leave now. I spent a long time letting others tell me where to go and what to do after losing my mother too. But then Mr. Valvatorez has let me decide things for myself again.”

Zeroken only mumbled quietly against the back of her neck now.

Rutile bucked him up on her back, “Um...!” desperately searching for something to keep him awake. “I think you’d really like it with us, Zeroken! Laharl can be a little rough, but he means really well and wants to learn how to take care of his sister. Etna can seem mean too, but she’s nicer than you think as well. Her friend Flonne comes round sometimes and is really nice, although actually I think maybe they like each other as a little more than just friends...”

She rambled on through her painful breaths as she ran down street after street, kept going by the simple prayer to get there in time.

~DOOD~

“I can walk for myself, Rutile sis!” Zeroken insisted again.

“I won’t let you risk falling down the stairs!” she persisted, taking each step very steadily up to the group home’s upper floor. “Miss Artina said you need to stay off your ankle as much as possible for the rest of the week.”

“Yeah, that’s why she gave me a crutch!” he fussed in humiliation, but kept still so they didn’t both end up taking a tumble.

Rutile continued to hold onto his piggybacking legs even as she reached the landing, “Which bedroom should I put him, Mr. Valvatorez?” turning to the small entourage following them.

“Holy crap, I can walk from here to one of the bedrooms!”

“This is the one I cleaned up for him,” Valvatorez indicated the one beside Rutile and Pleinair’s, leading the way.

Zeroken had given up fussing by the time he was placed down upon the room’s ready-dressed bed, pulling his thin jacket close around him even inside the warm room.

“Here,” Artina placed his crutch at the bedside, leaning down to feel his forehead. “Would you like anything to eat or drink? You should eat as much as you want this week while you’re building your strength back up.”

“Something warm, I guess?”

“We have plenty of tomato soup at the moment,” Valvatorez suggested, and the boy nodded. “Pleinair, will you go prepare some bread and soup for Zeroken?”

She gave a simple OK sign, departing from the room.

“Given your situation, I’ll prepare your meals for you this week while you’re recovering,” Valvatorez continued. “After that, everyone here is responsible for seeing to their own meals, laundry and cleaning. Can you cook?”

Zeroken laughed. “Nope! I can’t do laundry or clean stuff either!”

Valvatorez sighed. “I’ll instruct you.” Watching Zeroken making himself comfortable against the bed’s pillows, with a little assistance from Artina to elevate his twisted ankle, it seemed time. “Are you capable to tell us about the Lost now, Zeroken? If they’re targeting orphaned children, this seems like a threat we should be aware of.”

“Oh. Okay,” Zeroken began a little uneasily, rubbing at the side of his head until he brushed against the bandages still wrapped there. “It all began with Sensei- His name was Goldion, but most of us just called him ‘Sensei’. He was a lot like you, bro.” He was speaking to Valvatorez, who raised an eyebrow at the comparison. “He also used to go round helping street kids, and he was a good person you sensed you could trust, just like you. He used to run sessions every week to teach street kids self-defence, and he’d tell us where we could go to get food and shelter or stuff.”

“I think I remember a few of the kids who came to me mentioning they’d been referred by someone like that,” Artina commented.

“It was a safe place for us, and we all looked up to Sensei,” Zeroken continued. “But then a few months ago supposedly one of his students killed Sensei and his daughter. Sensei’s son, Void, swore revenge against the murderer and got us all to follow him so we could get our justice for Sensei.”

“He was the son you said was lying though,” Rutile remembered.

“Yeah, it was never about getting justice for Sensei; Void just wanted to use us to gain power for himself.” Zeroken tucked in on himself bitterly. “He started with us, using us to fight the gangs he said were hiding the kid who had murdered Sensei, but then he started taking control of those gangs we defeated-”

“Wait, controlling the gangs?” Valvatorez cut in. “Which gangs? I can’t imagine any falling to the control of a mere child.”

“He went after the smaller, newer ones at first like the Sea Angels and Bears. But then with those under his control Void started going after the bigger ones. He started getting really powerful after he brought the Undeads under his control.”

“Seriously?” Etna leant on the end of the bed. “The Undeads are one of the oldest gangs in this town; they’d never let anyone else run them.”

“It’s true!” Zeroken insisted. “I heard from my friend- Well, actually I don’t know him very well yet but anyway. My friend Zed and his younger sister Bieko are Undeads and they told me. Apparently Void installed some really mean, powerful chick called Majorita to lead them.”

“Still,” Valvatorez picked up Etna’s point with consternation, “one teenager shouldn’t have been able to take over this many gangs in just a few short months.”

“Void doesn’t just know all his dad’s self-defence techniques, he learnt all Sensei’s techniques for getting street kids to trust him too,” Zeroken explained. “That’s how he convinces everyone to fight for him. That or by scaring them into it nowadays.”

“So this is where all the children have gone...” Artina realised with sadness.

“With the sheer number of children living on the streets or in gangs down here in the Netherworld...” Valvatorez murmured.

“Damn it!” Laharl kicked the cheap chest of drawers he was leant against in the corner. “Who does this bastard think he is, trying to take my position as leader of the Netherworld?”

Rutile moved up to Zeroken’s bedside, something that attracted his attention and a comforted smile. “So why did you escape? Did they hurt you?”

He rubbed the side of his face awkwardly, gaze dropping to his twisted ankle. “I don’t even know if it’s true or not, about one of Sensei’s students murdering him. But Void seemed to have lost all interest in getting justice, and many of the other students didn’t seem to care either now they were so powerful. It was just really toxic, y’know?” He sighed, curling in on himself. “I felt so weak, following orders I knew Sensei wouldn’t have approved of to get justice for him, simply because I didn’t know any other way or what to do with myself without him. It was easy to just keep following the Lost’s orders if you’re a coward like me...”

“But yet you broke free,” Valvatorez emphasised.

“Yeah. I...” He looked up limply, brightening though when he saw Pleinair returning to the room with a tray. “I knew it wasn’t right, and I was ashamed of myself. I didn’t want to be a part of a gang like that anymore.”

The tray of food was set at Zeroken’s bedside, his hands reaching straight for it before Rutile scolded him to wash them first.

As she picked him up, with protests, to carry bridal-style to the room’s small bathroom, “Zeroken is far too common a tale out on these streets,” Valvatorez pondered aloud, staring out the yet-uncleaned window at a steely, November sky. “With winter coming even more will turn to the gangs for shelter and security, and they too will end up turning to the Lost if it’s already making such gains in power.”

“I don’t get it,” Laharl said, “why do all these kids join gangs? We got by all right by ourselves.”

“We had all that money we took from your father’s stash though, Prince,” Etna answered him. “And how we were living wasn’t really sustainable in the long-term, was it? We didn’t have anywhere to bathe or cook, and if we’d gotten really sick no one would have been able to get food for us. Plus there was no heating at that place, which was fine back in summer but now...”

Laharl frowned at the kettling water clanging its way through the room’s radiator. “Still! They could go to a homeless shelter or orphanage; why sell yourself as a slave to some two-bit gang overlord?”

Etna simply looked at him from where she was leant at the end of the bed, calm but yet torn, her gaze drifting down into the middle distance. “Maybe you wouldn’t get it, Prince, what it’s like not having a family...”

“What’s family got to do with anything?

Rutile returned, still carrying a protesting Zeroken bridal-style back to his bed. “Stop carrying me everywhere, Rutile sis!”

“You should do as Miss Artina says and stop risking more damage to your ankle!”

Placed back on the bed, there was little to do but pout and grab up a slice of bread, tearing half off in one big chunk with his teeth.

“You know that at least one person in this world always cares whether you’re alive or dead, Prince,” Etna said quietly, watching the two now fighting over sensible bite sizes.

“Hmph,” Laharl huffed in embarrassment, especially when he noticed Artina smiling at him. “I’m sure that brother of yours cares.”

Etna only continued to stare distantly at the scene before her, “Not enough to let me know where he is...” muttering bitterly.

“Brother?” Valvatorez enquired, leaving it gently open if she didn’t want to answer.

She shrugged up with a defensive folding of her arms, refusing to show if such a simple question could hurt her. “My stupid big brother, Xenolith... I haven’t seen him for years. I don’t know where the hell he is or what he’s doing...”

“I’ll be your bro if you want, Etna sis,” Zeroken offered, grinning with a fresh milk moustache firmly in place above his mouth. “I always wanted siblings!”

“Oh, me too!” Rutile said, offering him a tissue he stared at like a complete foreign object.

“Ugh, no way,” Etna turned him down, strutting from the room.

Valvatorez eyed up the tips of red hair visible just outside the doorway though, that hadn’t truly left. “Well, at least we now know the cause of your missing patients, Artina,” he moved on.

“Yes,” she agreed. “I’m worried if the Lost are looking after themselves properly though, especially if they’re mostly children. Where do they live, Zeroken?”

“You’re not thinking of going to help them, are you, Artina sis?!” he baulked. “They’d totally kidnap you if you tried! They force everyone to join them or else beat them up so they don’t tell the police.”

“But these gangs rarely have any medical personnel! They might need medical assistance!”

Valvatorez had raised an eyebrow however. “Police? The Lost are still afraid of the police?”

Zeroken looked up, spoon hanging from his mouth. “Mm, think so. Or Void always told us all to avoid ‘em, and not to tell them anything if we got caught; he made a really big deal out of it.”

That eyebrow remained up, but Valvatorez said no more.

“How are you feeling now, Zeroken?” Artina asked in that case. “Will you be okay if I go back to my clinic?”

“Yeah, I’m totally fine, Artina sis,” he beamed. “Thanks so much for looking after me the past few days!”

“No problem.” She smiled with him. “Now, stay off that ankle as much as possible this week. After that we’ll slowly get you back on it to strengthen it up again, okay? I’ll come by regularly to check on your progress and give you physical therapy.”

“I’ll be fine! I can walk on it already,” he insisted, shifting over to the edge of the bed to prove he could stand on his ankle- Or rather, collapse back on his bed in agony, bewailing his self-inflicted situation.

“I told you, Zeroken!” Artina repeated hotly.

“Idiot...” Pleinair said, and Laharl nodded beside her.

“Are you okay, Zeroken?” Rutile crouched down.

“F-Fine...” he tried to claim, through his groaning.

Given the slightly nauseated look to his face from the pain, she reached out to rub his back in circles. He relaxed into the touch, merely whimpering now. “I know you have your crutch, Zeroken. But I’m worried you’re going to wake up in the night, try to go to the bathroom and forget.” He didn’t make any effort to object to something that was probably true. “Um, M-Mr. Valvatorez, maybe I should move into this room with Zeroken while he still can’t walk, just in case?”

“That,” Valvatorez considered this particular boy, “would probably be a sensible idea, yes.”

Rutile turned to her roommate. “You don’t mind, do you, Pleinair?”

She shook her head. “Needed...”

Pumped up now, “Okay then! Don’t worry, Zeroken! I’ll look after you!” Rutile told him.

“O-Okay, Rutile sis!” he agreed shakily. “C-Can you stop rubbing so hard though? You’re gonna make a hole in my shirt!”

“S-Sorry!”

~DOOD~

“Well, here’s yours, Zeroken.” Valvatorez placed down the single wrapped box before the birthday boy in question, Etna’s new accessories already adorning the birthday girl’s clothing. “I’m sorry we couldn’t afford more for both of you.”

“You just had to go and share a birthday with me, didn’t you?” Etna snarked, tearing pieces of her wrapping paper into smaller ones as if trying to fill the present-less void.

“I think it’s so cool, sharing a birthday with someone you only just met and now live with!” Flonne enthused, eagerly crowding up to the table edge again to watch. “It’s like getting a whole new twin!”

“Yeah, except a twin who was born one year after me,” Etna said, just to ruin the fun.

“I think it’s cool too,” Zeroken decided. “And hey, no worries, Val bro – This is more presents than I’ve gotten for my birthday in years!” He didn’t spend any time savouring the chance to rip off the wrapping paper however, shreds of blue stars flying away as he pulled out the shoebox within. “Neat! Oh man,” He took out the basketball shoes inside without a hesitation, “these look so sweet!”

“Wowee, they have lightning bolts on them!” Flonne cheered for him.

“Damn, not bad,” Laharl agreed.

“They’re too big for you to steal, Prince,” Etna teased, leaning back so decadently she could stick out her tongue at him stood behind the sofa.

“Thanks, Val bro!” Zeroken said as the other two started bickering. “A special birthday meal and new shoes is all I need, don’t worry!”

“And now your ankle’s better you’ll be able to run around in them as much as you like,” Artina said. “You stuck to your recovery plan so well in the end I’m not even going to charge Mr. Instructor interest on the money I leant him to pay for them!”

“Wow, so generous...” Etna dryly scorned.

“Me recovering so well was all thanks to Rutile sis,” Zeroken carried on obliviously, the girl in question flustering and protesting. “I’m gonna miss having a roommate when you move back to your old room; it’s really nice, waking up in the night and having someone there instead of always being alone.”

“Well, I-I don’t have to move back just yet,” Rutile suggested, looking to her former roommate.

Pleinair simply nodded.

“I don’t mind sharing a bit longer,” she offered in that case.

“Sweet!” Returning attention to his sole present, “I’m gonna try these on right now- Ah jeez, they’re laced all weird...”

“I’ll help.” Almost by instinct at this point, Rutile sat herself down beside him and took the other shoe to start unlacing, showing the clueless boy how to do it.

“Whose birthday is next?” Artina asked, happily caught in the family spirit of the scrappy, little celebration. “We already celebrated mine earlier this month.”

“I’ve gotta wait until next August for my disappointing excuse of a party,” Laharl said.

“M-Mine’s in May,” Rutile said.

“You can all come to mine in February!” Flonne offered.

Pleinair stayed silent by her choice.

“I don’t know when my birthday is,” Valvatorez mused. “I’ve never celebrated one before.”

“You’ve never celebrated your birthday, Mr. Valvatorez?!” Flonne bewailed for him. “That’s too sad! You have to make yourself a birthday so you can celebrate it like everyone else!”

“Make myself a birthday?”

“Why not when you first moved in here?” Artina suggested. “That was a pretty momentous date.”

“Hmm, perhaps...” he considered. “One could say my new life began to form that first day I awoke at your clinic, but I suppose it was truly set in motion then.”

“We might not even have met the person whose birthday we’ll be celebrating next,” Rutile said with particularly wistful optimism, beginning to lace the shoes back up with a more comfortable pattern. “I hope we get a lot more new friends here like Zeroken.”

“For the sake of the kitchen, it’d probably be better if they weren’t like him,” Etna took a swift dig.

“Hey, I haven’t burnt anything or cut myself all day today!”

Before the children got too rowdy with their new game of insults, “I hope we have many more new comrades still to meet as well, Rutile,” Valvatorez agreed. “And I’ve been thinking – As comrades, I feel we ought to make our connection to one another physical-!”

“‘Physical’? This better not involve anything weird like mixing our blood together,” Laharl cut in.

“To that end,” Valvatorez wrested the conversation back forcefully, “I have something for the five of you.” He strode out into the corridor briefly, all heads in the room peering to follow him aside from Artina’s slightly more knowing smile. What Valvatorez brought back was a plain but large box he set on the floor, crouching down to reach inside. “What with December beginning tomorrow, it seems the perfect time to introduce the new outfits I got for you all.” Before any of the children knew quite what to say, Valvatorez lifted out a blue hat, its large, adorning eyes and yellow peak giving it the resemblance of a cartoonish penguin.

“What the hell is that?” Laharl asked, watching with further abhorrence as a matching blue and white jacket was shown as well. “You don’t seriously expect me to wear that, do you?”

“You spent money on that instead of buying us more presents?” Etna objected equally.

Rutile and Pleinair were at least silent about them, the former from politeness and the latter as usual. Zeroken was rubbing at the back of his neck, “Um, not that it’s not cool and all, Val bro... But why penguins?” his awkward smile twitching slightly.

“All the gangs of this area wear ‘cool’ signifying outfits of dragons and reapers and so forth,” Valvatorez explained didactically. “But we will not dress like them, because we are not like them! We don’t use one another, cause trouble for the residents of this city or seek to protect only ourselves! We are a family!”

He waited as the children stared at him silently, judgement reserved on all sides. Until eventually Etna murmured, “...Family?”

Valvatorez nodded. “Perhaps not the most conventional of kinds, but I now consider the five of you as such. And these clothes will let the world know you are all my prinnies!”

“‘Prinnies’?”

He held open the jacket, indicating the label sewn inside as he read off, “‘Hades Printastic Clothing Company’,” as if that was explanation enough.

The first jacket and hat set were held out for whomever was keenest. When the offer was not taken up, Valvatorez stepped towards the sofa of the birthday boy and girl, presenting Etna hers first.

He went around each of the others, three accepting them with polite or silent responses, reaching Laharl last who took his but wasted no time in objecting, “There’s no way you’re getting me wearing these stupid clothes!”

“Oh? Why not?”

“Because they look so dumb!” he stated plainly. “I wouldn’t be seen dead in these!”

“They are super stupid looking...” Etna agreed, staring distantly at her own set. Then she looked around each of the others holding the same as her though, settling back with a sigh that lapsed into a smirk, eyes closed, “But I guess if we’re all going to wear them and look stupid together...” putting her prinny hat upon her head.

Pleinair also finished having a staring contest with the eyes on her hat, turning it to place upon her own head over her headband.

“I-I do think it’s rather cute, actually,” Rutile mentioned, donning her hat as well.

Zeroken ran a hand through his loose, flopping hair, “I guess since my headband’s a lost cause after it got all that blood in it...” settling the hat atop and trying a few positions to suit his ponytail.

“Seriously?” Laharl asked them all, now being forced to face and glare at his own hat again. He did cast an irritated frown at Valvatorez stood by, waiting so confidently without a word. But with a growl, “...Damn it, if you’re all wearing them I guess I have to as well...” he shoved the hat down upon his own head, finding a comfortable position where it didn’t get in the way of his two long hair strands. “I blame you for this, Etna.”

“Whatever, Prince.” She was busier holding up the jacket before her to inspect. “I can’t see myself wearing this as much, but I guess it’ll be good for exercising in or something.”

“Wear them as you see fit,” Valvatorez said, crouching to sift through the remaining contents of the box. “I made sure they’re easily machine washable, and with this size selection we ought to be able to provide for- Hm?” His sifting stopped on something, pulling to the top, “What is this...” then out of the box, “unique, green variation?”

Artina moved to get a closer look at the green jacket and hat he held from beside him. “That’s odd, Mr. Instructor. I thought all twelve were meant to be blue.” Considering it a little more, “It’s kind of cute though.”

“Unbelievable!” Valvatorez scorned. “Is this what passes for standards these days? Breaking the simple promise of delivering twelve blue sets?” Frowning at the anomaly to his little system, “...Well, I suppose this can be the spare.  I shouldn’t expect to reach twelve without it getting quite merry here anyway.”

Leant in perturbingly close to Etna’s face, “No fair!” Flonne pouted. “I want to part of a group with a special outfit and name!”

“Even one this dumb?”

“And getting to have big birthday parties for each other! There’s so much love in this household!” she exclaimed, all fired up with fists well and truly squeezed.

Laharl choked in disgust. “What are you talking about?! There’s no ‘love’ here!”

“Indeed,” Valvatorez agreed with a firm nod. “I am merely instructing my charges in independence and providing for their needs as required.”

Artina chuckled. “If you say so, Mr. Weirdo.”

Taken aback slightly, “What does that mean?” he contested.

“It feels like back at home with my parents and sister Ozonne here, how much you care for each other,” Flonne told him. “T-That’s not to say my uncle and his son aren’t loving too while I’m staying here with them! But it really does feel like a family here! Or the start of one at least.”

Valvatorez scorned her again, further frustration piqued by Artina’s evasive giggling. Rutile was helping Zeroken into his new shoes, Pleinair watching curiously, as Laharl tried to goad Flonne into admitting her real feelings about her little sister.

And Etna sat back in the corner of the sofa, looking down at the prinny jacket in her lap. She didn’t disgrace herself by putting it on, but did look back up at her... family.

~DOOD~

Valvatorez followed the bored stride of the officer past the locked gate to the holding cell corridor, his unimpressed frown going unnoticed behind their back as they walked along white and golden walls, a pretence of respectability and justice that used opulence to legitimise itself, that asserted nothing this beautiful could be corrupt.

When they reached the first cell in the row, a dark door set in its own golden archway, the officer unlocked it by rote and without a word to its inhabitant or their visitor. She didn’t even gesture Valvatorez to it, leaving him to take the initiative to push the door and enter.

His entry was met with an assault of small, yellow fury, “Let me out, plip!” flailing hands scratching at his chest they thumped. “I have to kill her, plip!”

Valvatorez halted the attacks with a simple grip on each wrist, made easy by the exhaustion rendering them inaccurate and slightly trembling. The eyes that stared up past dishevelled, blond hair were bloodshot, the skin around them flushed with a red tint. “Usalia?” he addressed more as a gentle formality to begin a proper conversation.

“Who... Who are you, plip?”

He could easily forgive her disgruntled suspicion. “I am Valvatorez, an instructor for juvenile delinquents and similarly unfortunate minors. Although I understand you are the victim in these circumstances,” he looked around the police cell she was being held in, not holding back an unsurprised frown, “I have nonetheless been requested to take you into my care henceforth.”

“I don’t care about that, plip!” She began struggling again, too weakly to require any real strength to overcome however. “I don’t need to be taken care of! I need to go kill Majorita, plip!”

“The girl who killed your parents?”

“Yes! I need to get revenge for them, plip!” Usalia gave one more concerted pull in an effort for freedom before giving into exhaustion, rumpled and unwashed clothes slumping on her body. “Let me go, plip...”

“You are being let go, in a sense, by coming with me, Usalia,” he explained, using the gentle force necessary to help hold her up. “I understand your desire for revenge, but presently I can see you are in no fit state to enact it, are you?” It took a moment for her to even be able to raise her head to meet his gaze, silent uncertainty and confusion all she could answer with. “I was asked to take you into more permanent care straight away because of concerns you haven’t been eating and sleeping properly while here, on top of the initial concerns you would harm yourself or others.”

The officer at the cell door seemed completely unconcerned, barely even listening when Valvatorez looked round to them, but nonetheless one person here had cared enough to reach out to him.

“You wish for revenge,” he continued, “but you don’t even had the strength to resist me as we stand right now. How will you achieve your stated aim in such a state, hm? You will not!” he declared, only seeming to flummox the poor child, not that he noticed. “You need to restore your strength before you can think of such things, do you understand?” Her tired confusion was no proper answer. “You can’t let yourself fail such an important purpose, can you?”

“No, plip... No, I have to...”

He smiled fondly that the lass couldn’t even finish a sentence right now. “Come with me, and I’ll see to it that we restore your strength. After that, then you can start thinking of such things again. Agreed?”

Usalia exhaled a mumble that sounded like agreement, or at least surrender.

“Very good. Now, are you hungry?”

“Mmm... I... am pretty hungry, plip.”

“By the time we’ve made the journey back it’ll be about time for an evening meal. Any preferences?”

“Not... Not curry, plip...” She shook her head, not letting up even after her point was made. “I don’t want curry, plip...”

“All right. Spaghetti?”

Now she started nodding instead, “Okay, plip...” drooping tiredly as he finally felt safe to release her wrists.

Valvatorez still kept one eye on her in case as he turned to the guard at the door, “I will take responsibility for her. Is there any immediate paperwork to fill out? I’d like to get her home as soon as possible now it’s growing dark.”

The officer only stared blankly, their answer simply to take a first step forward as if to lead the two away.

Valvatorez offered his coat and/or arm for Usalia to hold onto, satisfied it would keep her safe behind him even in her dopey state as they walked from the barren white walls of the cell.

~DOOD~

The transition from the dark, desolate streets of early December to the cheap but earnest light of the group home’s entrance hallway finally woke Usalia from her doze. Strangely positioned, she struggled for a sense of steadiness until she realised she was on Valvatorez’s back, her movement prompting him to ease her down back onto her own feet. “This is where you’ll be staying now, Usalia.”

She blinked through blurry eyes at the plain, slightly scruffy walls, at the disorganised pairs of shoes beside her feet, and the doorways from the corridor ahead that heads started poking round.

“Is that the new girl?”

“Is she all right?”

“Should I get anything for her, bro?”

A tired blink and now taller teens were clustering around them, the soft noise of a TV in another room also filtering into the warm air.

“Proper introductions will be done in the morning, but for now this is Usalia, everyone. She could do with a good meal inside of her so I’ll be starting some spaghetti now, if anyone wants to join us and assist me.”

“Oh, count me in, bro!”

“Count me and the Prince in too.”

“We already started making some croquettes to use up those extra potatoes, Mr. Valvatorez, so don’t worry about Pleinair and me.”

“All right, spaghetti for five then. Here now,” Usalia blinked again, “come with us to the kitchen,” a pale hand extended into her vision beside her own, instinct leading her to latch onto its safety and be led gently forward again.

Plain, laminate planks gave way to faded, slightly cracked but clean tiles beneath her trudging feet. A crisp, fatty scent filled the air as she was steered to a chair in the even warmer room, cosier still than the hall despite its larger size. Voices talking about saucepans and arguing over vegetables blurred and lulled together.

The noises of cooking, pans clanking on hobs and knives chopping, punctuated the comfortable slipping of her consciousness, time hurrying along in snapshots until plates were being laid out in preparation and-

A body collapsed to the floor, Usalia startling awake with a cry and pounding heart as voices shouted.

Valvatorez was face-down on the tiles, barely supported by a single elbow as he tried to shush the children away from fussing over him so, not that he was doing a very convincing job whilst unable to even lift himself back up to sitting.

Usalia hopped up from her seat, hurrying over on small legs. “Wh-What happened, plip? Is he okay?”

“Don’t worry,” Etna said, leaning over the struggling man with hands on her hips and a parental frown, “this idiot probably just overdid it carrying you home in the cold. Once he gets something to eat and has a rest he’ll be fine.”

Zeroken had actually crouched down to give Valvatorez some support back up to sitting, “Don’t worry, bro, we’ll get everything served up,” getting him into a chair Rutile had brought over.

Valvatorez seemed determined to at least sit himself up, even if he could barely manage it. Looking at his pale face and ragged breathing was hard for Usalia, but she wanted to make sure he heard, “I’m really sorry, plip. I would’ve walked home by myself if you’d told me you were so ill, plip.”

“It’s fine, don’t concern yourself,” he reassured somewhat breathlessly. “Your exhaustion was more than apparent, and I alone am responsible for my own health. Now,” he gestured weakly with one hand, “bring a chair beside me to eat; when one is fatigued in such a way, it is best to eat slowly. I often find it best to split a large meal, such as this, into halves or thirds, keeping the rest in the oven or fridge as appropriate in the meantime.”

Usalia felt herself blinking again at the volume of words, eventually settling for just following the simple command of bringing her chair up to his side at one of the counters.

Soon a couple of half-filled bowls were placed before them, the steaming portions in each a little pathetic-looking at such a size as she took up the provided fork less than enthusiastically.

“It’s all right,” Valvatorez sought to reassure, nodding over to an oven Zeroken was closing, “the rest is in there. Eat what’s here first, then you can take as much more as you like.”

Usalia stared into the thick sauce her fork mingled into spaghetti and green vegetables, not glancing up as Zeroken now approached to ask, “Hey, you want anything to drink with it?” She only continued to stare, grip then tightening as very weakly she began to cry. “Wh-Why are you crying?! I didn’t mean to upset her, Val bro! I was only trying to help!”

Wiping her jacket sleeve across her face, “I’m-m causing so mu-much trouble for a-all of you, plip... Ju-Just like M-Mother a-and F-Fa...”

“Hey, it’s no sweat, little sis!” Zeroken said. “Now you’re living here, you’re one of us. We all help one another out here.”

Usalia shook her sorry head. “B-But I’m not really o-one of you, plip... I’m only h-here to get strong so I can get revenge on Majorita for m-my parents, plip.”

“Wait, Majorita?” Zeroken asked. “As in that chick of the Lost who’s running the Zombie gang now?”

“Y-Yeah.” Usalia looked up finally, prodded meal completely ignored for now. “How d-do you know her, plip?”

Fists clenched, “The Lost are run by my Sensei’s son, but they’re an insult to everything Sensei would have wanted. I want to get revenge on them too for disgracing his legacy like this,” Zeroken declared his piece with far too much martial-arts-movie drama.

“These Lost bastards need to be taught a lesson,” Laharl decreed, “namely, that these Netherworld streets rightfully belong to me, Laharl Krichevskoy!”

“It’s messed up,” Etna agreed, “how they go around taking kids from their families and then dare to act like they’re one themselves.”

“Zeroken was hurt by the Lost, and we were nearly taken by them too,” Rutile walked over to add. “I won’t let them get away with hurting any more of my friends-! Um, not that-! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to presume we’re going to be friends!”

Pleinair merely nodded, firmly and viciously.

Valvatorez pushed the bowl Usalia was trying to abandon back to her. “We all have our own issues with the Lost as well. Though we wouldn’t intrude on your own personal grievances, be assured we would be more than glad to provide you with our assistance.” Her fork settled back on the food before her, but was yet to actually bring any to her mouth. “If reciprocity concerns you, I’m certain you’ll have ample opportunity to assist us in the future once you’re settled in here.”

“...Here, plip?”

“I was led to understand you have no other family or guardians who could care for you,” Valvatorez said.

“I-I don’t, plip. But...” Her head bowed over her food, both fatigue but also, “I don’t want to live without my parents, plip...”

“Do you have no aims bar your revenge on Majorita? No desire even for what you would do after?” Usalia’s head turned further and awkwardly aside. “...I see.”

“Making Majorita pay for what she did is the only thing I need to focus on, plip,” she muttered, steeling herself as she stared down her bowl of food. Holding her fork with a far too resolute grip, Usalia finally started eating one forced mouthful at a time, saying no more to those watching in concern.

~DOOD~

“Now, let us find you a room and supplies to get cleaned up with.” Valvatorez lead the way up past the top of the stairs, Usalia trudging dutifully behind him onto the slightly threadbare carpeting of the landing. “I shan’t imagine you want much except a warm shower and bed now after all you’ve been through.”

“Yes, plip...”

She stood, and tried not to nod off against the nearest wall, as he considered the various doorways of the upper floor-

“Bed...”

“Hm?” Valvatorez turned to Pleinair standing in hers, gesturing them both into it. “Oh, you dressed the second bed in your room for Usalia? Would you like her to share your room for now?”

“Safe...” Pleinair nodded.

He nodded also. “Yes, it probably would be safest if Usalia were to have a roommate. Are you comfortable with this arrangement, Usalia?”

She’d followed in after him, the rather plain but pleasantly clean room little to get excited over yet a comfortable sight nonetheless. “That’s really kind of you. Thank you, plip.”

“Right,” Valvatorez declared, “in that case I will go fetch you some toiletries and other sundries you’ll require. Pleinair, do you have any spare pyjamas suitable for her to borrow temporarily?”

She nodded that she would look, while he left for now and Usalia could only stand in awkward, guilt-ridden helplessness just inside the door. One side of the twin room had just enough hints it was currently lived in: a glass of water on the bedside table, ever-so-slightly rumpled sheets on the well-made bed, a spare hair ribbon lying on the chest of drawers. The rest was plain, sallow purple walls, cream curtains and that slightly pinkish beige carpet that seemingly comprises 99% of home carpeting in the world. Only one little mark blemished it all, a little copy of Pleinair’s rabbit’s face painted onto the wall above her bed, one bright speck of cute disobedience.

A suitable nightshirt had been found by the time Valvatorez returned with a toothbrush, flannel and so forth for the room’s small en suite, as well as, “I apologise but this is the smallest size we have,” a prinny jacket and hat for Usalia. “All the children here receive these, to know they are a part of a family and be able to wear that fact with pride.”

No one walked by to snarkily disagree with the last part of that particular assertion. Instead, Usalia stared down at the items presented to her, making no moves to do more than simply hold them.

“Even if you don’t wish to consider yourself a part of our family at this time,” Valvatorez understood without prompting, “know that we are here for you nonetheless, and allow the clothes to symbolise that.”

“...Okay, plip.” Usalia looked around for somewhere to politely relinquish them, putting them onto the chest of drawers at the foot of her given bed, heading into the room’s bathroom without looking back.

In her absence, Valvatorez and Pleinair shared a silent meeting of eyes, but he was content to leave the girls there right now.

Only Pleinair was in the room when Usalia returned from her ablutions, sat on the opposite bed with back to the wall. It wasn’t with the tense posture of waiting for nothing but Usalia’s return, but also not the relaxed posture of someone who didn’t care about her.

Uneasy, Usalia moved to sit on her bed facing the other, tucking herself up small in the unfamiliar room. The silence being just as awkward,  “Uh... So... what happened to your family, plip?” her gaze had moved over the prinny hat Pleinair had sat on her bedside table ready to be worn again the next morning.

Usagi hugged in her arms as always, Pleinair only shook her head in response.

“Oh, I’m sorry, plip! Y-You don’t have to... It’s fine, plip.” Usalia shrunk guiltily, pressing her fingertips together. “It’s not... I know how painful it can be, plip...”

Pleinair continued to gaze at her.

The silence was a curious one, but it was the patience to it that led Usalia to uncurl herself slightly, “It... It was all my fault, plip,” beginning in a very soft tone. “It was because I had run out from my home that day, because they wouldn’t make me curry, that...” she plipped plaintively. “If I hadn’t run out of the house, Majorita wouldn’t have...!” Her breath shook in brief rage. “Just because she was jealous, because she said I didn’t appreciate still having parents, plip...”

Pleinair hummed what might have been a word, but it was far too small to tell.

“Maybe she’s right that I didn’t appreciate them enough, plip,” Usalia continued, small voice beginning to strain. “But she should have taken that out on me, instead of them... That’s why I need to get revenge on her, because it’s my fault, plip.” She rubbed at her face with one of the slightly baggy sleeves of the borrowed nightshirt. “It’s my fault, a-all because I wanted curry... And now I w-won’t ever get to have their special sweet curry recipe ever again, p-plip... I don’t deserve to have curry ever again, plip...”

The lack of response to deal with was perhaps the easiest thing as Usalia sniffled beneath the cover of her small hands. All Pleinair said to it all was, “Tissue...” as she offered a box of the same, and that kindness was enough.

~DOOD~

The bedroom door was fully open, but Valvatorez still knocked politely and stood outside.

Usalia glanced up after a moment where he hadn’t entered uninvited, “You can come in, plip,” feeling the need to be reciprocally polite.

He watched her set aside the bowl of half-eaten breakfast on the bed as he entered, trying to hide it from his sight and awkward questions. Sympathetically taking his gaze from it, “It’s still your choice, Usalia, but I just wanted to make sure you had one last chance to speak up if you do want to go today.”

She simply shook her head though. “I only want to get revenge, so I can apologise to them for what happened, plip.”

“All right,” he accepted.

“Don’t tell anyone else about... today either, plip,” she continued. “I can’t show my face to my parents until I’ve made up for what I did, so I don’t want any of them to encourage me to go.”

“I understand.”

That was all she said, and appeared to want to say about her parents’ funeral.

Valvatorez lingered, looking on at the small girl tucked in on herself with such downcast eyes. Her prinny clothes still sat folded on her chest of drawers, not ignored given the berth they’d been given from her other things, but an uncomfortable presence there nevertheless. “Would you like to perhaps cook together later for one of our meals? In order to help you regain the strength you need for your revenge,” he justified, before his gaze catching on her half-eaten food grew awkward for them. “Whatever you’d like. Do you have a favourite meal?”

Her little fingers picked at the seams of her trousers, “...My parents’ special sweet curry, plip...” and she only shook her head again.

“Ah.”

She plainly had little desire to say more.

“Perhaps,” Valvatorez pushed gently, “after you’ve achieved your revenge, we could make it for you?”

“...Maybe. But I don’t know the recipe, plip.”

“Oh. Well, perhaps we can help you work it out?”

Valvatorez’s offer prompted a pause in her picking, but then she simply resumed with another, “Maybe, plip...”

He nodded, more to himself as an acknowledgement all that could be done was to leave it for now. “All right. Get cleaned up soon; lessons start in half an hour,” he said, making to go.

“Yes, plip...”

Valvatorez paused outside, hearing the half-hearted clinking of a spoon poking at cereal resume. He sighed heavily, a hand placed over his face, before he walked away for now.

~DOOD~

Valvatorez followed the back of this police officer with one eyebrow raised – Was it the same one? So many of the officers looked so alike here – until they stopped outside of one of the holding cell doors.

Well, it was definitely the same cell as last time.

He wasn’t immediately assaulted upon entering this time, instead having time to walk in and assess the two boys sat on the cell’s single, wide foam mat of a bed before one snapped out, “What do you want? Who the hell are you?”

“Killia,” the other spoke more softly, placing a similarly calming hand on the enraged boy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he apologised for them both. “I haven’t seen you around here before. Is there something we can help you with?”

“Actually, I have been asked to assist the two of you – My name is Valvatorez. I run a home for juvenile delinquents and the-”

“We didn’t do it!” The angered boy lunged at him with a vicious fury and even more vicious-looking, claw-like gloves.

The other held him back just barely, “Killia!” throwing an apologetic look to the unruffled Valvatorez.

“I would never hurt Lieze! Void was the one who killed her!” Killia continued to struggle anyway, “He’s the one who should be-!” violently enough his friend was thrown down to the bare, dirty concrete floor. “Christo!” That pulled Killia up short with wide, gold eyes, anger shifting straight into a haunted panic. “I didn’t mean to-! I’m sorry!”

Christo accepted a trembling hand up without reserve from Killia, the same hand that had just cast him down. “It’s all right, I know you can’t help it right now.”

Valvatorez assessed them both with a pointed stare while unobserved, a considering hand to his chin. “Whatever you claim happened, I am here because the two of you are being released into my care for the meanwhile,” he stuck to formally.

“Damn it! This isn’t-!”

“It’s better than staying stuck in here, isn’t it?” Christo tried to calm Killia with.

It did little to stop the rage Killia still seemed to be trembling with, hands twitching at the ends of arms that couldn’t stay still at his sides. But with a measured breath, Killia did manage to refrain from saying any more.

“Are you all right?” Valvatorez really had to ask, looking at the slightly flushed boy.

Killia didn’t seem to want to interrupt his careful pattern of breathing, allowing Christo to explain, “Killia has hyperthyroidism – It causes irritability and tremors in him, among other symptoms. He hasn’t been able to take the necessary steps to manage it while we’ve been interred in here.”

“I understand.” It seemed best to gesture to the door and for them all to leave as soon as possible, in the circumstances.

Checking out was an easier affair this time with the two boys older and more competent to assist than Usalia.

The walk home, once they stepped outside, however, “I would not even contemplate running in your position,” Valvatorez warned them both before even reaching the bottom of the police station’s steps. He took the dark and dirty glare Killia fixed him with face-on, simply gesturing for them to, “Come now, follow me.”

The winter wind cut by them with sluggish gusts, pulling at Killia’s light jacket and Christo’s more substantial coat, the sounds of their shoes on the drizzle-softened pavement allowing Valvatorez to lead the way through the dusk without looking back.

That is, until they were finally a good enough distance from the police station when he turned fully around, “So you say Void was the one who killed his sister and father in actuality?”

“Wh-What?” Killia faltered, and even Christo’s eyes blinked wide behind his glasses.

Unable to parse Killia’s natural trembling from shivering, Valvatorez led them all aside into the sheltered porch space of a closed restaurant. “The Lieze and Void you spoke of are the two children of a man named Goldion, are they not? And the same Void is now the leader of the street gang known as the Lost, correct?”

“Y-Yeah,” Killia was still shaking but nonetheless seemed somehow calmer now. “How do you know about them?”

“I have another of Goldion’s students in my care, a boy called Zeroken, and I assume you, Killia, are the student who Void asserted supposedly murdered Goldion and his daughter.”

“Indeed, it’s exactly as you say,” Christo took up. “Void pinned the blame on Killia and I, and in his position as Goldion’s biological son was given the benefit of the doubt over Killia, whom Goldion was merely fostering.”

Valvatorez was nodding sagely, eyes closed. “I suspected Void was the actual killer when I heard of his aversion to any of the Lost interacting with the police; he still fears the truth being discovered, which combined with the fact you’re both being released into my care temporarily must mean the evidence isn’t very tight against the two of you.”

Christo chuckled, pushing up his slightly steamed-up glasses. “You are perceptive, Street Tyrant Valvatorez.”

“Wait!” Killia startled, staring between the other two. “This is the Street Tyrant Valvatorez?”

Valvatorez only acknowledged the fact with a careless nod, although Christo seemed inclined to embellish the revelation with the fact, “Killia, or Killidia as he used to go by, was gaining a reputation as your Tyrant successor to these streets, until he met Goldion and found a proper home.”

“Oh, is that so?” Valvatorez acknowledged quaintly. “My, my, every charge I take into my care always seems to have such fascinating backstories.” Killia himself didn’t look so pleased with being outed in such a way, and given he was still trembling, “Well, let’s be going, shall we? We’ll be home by about sunset if we make enough haste.”

Filling them in on the other residents they would soon meet on the walk back, Valvatorez was true to his word that the three arrived home around 3:50pm, just as the sun was setting on a hard, December day.

“So where’s this Zeroken?” Killia asked as soon as he was in the door, even walking straight to the doorways of the main hall without removing his shoes. “Zeroken!”

“Killia, calm down and take your shoes off,” Christo lightly scolded, moving to drag his friend back.

“But we need to come up with a plan to prove Void was the-!”

“There will be time for that!” Christo insisted fondly but firmly. “You need to get yourself back in balance first or you won’t be able to do anything about Void. Come on, you need to eat first and foremost while your metabolism is still racing like this.”

“Right,” Killia acknowledged. “Right,” he accepted, taking some calming breaths as he moved himself through removing his shoes and jacket.

A fumbling of feet came down the stairs, “Yo, someone was calling for me?” Zeroken hopping down from the penultimate one and skidding slightly on the hall’s laminate wood floor.

“Ah,” Valvatorez explained, “these are our new residents, Killia and Christo. Killia was also a student of Goldion, his foster son in fact, and the one Void falsely blamed the murders on.”

“Whoa, you’re also a student of Sensei’s?” Zeroken bounced up to Killia, practically starting to sparkle.

“Void was the one who killed Goldion and Lieze,” Killia began with, clenching up a fist and using all his power to hold in everything he appeared to want to spit out in his rage.

“Wait, you’re saying Void was the one who killed his sister and father?!” Zeroken startled back.

Valvatorez stepped gently into the space between them, “I don’t believe this is the best time to talk about this,” watching as Christo went to his friend’s side to provide the assistance Killia still so obviously needed. He was also only too aware of all the other faces popping into the main hall, everyone having turned out by now to see their new residents.

It wasn’t doing much for Killia’s situation, even as he did his best to follow Christo’s instructions to breathe in for four, hold for seven, then breathe out for eight in a slow pattern. At least until Christo was distracted by- “Holy crap, what are you doing here?”

Christo started slightly, soon locating the source and pushing up his glasses with a smile. “Ah, Etna, it’s good to see you. I didn’t realise this was the group home where you lived.”

“You know each other?” Valvatorez asked.

“Yeah, he’s Flonne’s cousin,” Etna explained. “So why the hell is Police Chief Lamington’s son being dumped with us in this place?”

At the centre of a number of startled exclamations and stares, “Ah, well, it’s a little awkward for my father, having me accused with assisting in a murder, so we both agreed it would be best my identity be kept secret until my name is cleared. That’s also why I’m going by the name ‘Christo’ for the time being,” he said with a very lackadaisical shrug.

“I see,” Valvatorez accepted, a hand to his chin. “I did think it peculiar two teenage boys currently under a murder charge would simply be released like this, but if your father pulled strings...”

Christo merely pushed up his glasses until they glinted above his smile.

“In any case,” Valvatorez brought everything back together, “we ought to get the two of you a warm meal already. I expect everyone here to take responsibility for getting their own meals, so if you’ll follow me I’ll show you where everything is in the kitchen.” He made to sweep away, open coat flapping behind him.

Killia followed without a second thought, but Christo hung back, “Oh...” gaze on the darkened sky outside.

It didn’t take long for Killia to notice the absence of his friend. “Hm? What’s wrong-? Oh right,” turning to ask Valvatorez, “Is it all right if I make Christo’s meal for him tonight?”

“Are you unable to cook for yourself?” Valvatorez asked the young man in question.

“No, and I hate to put this on Killia in his present state,” Christo said, indicating the main hall’s small window, “but now the sun’s gone down it’s Jewish Sabbath, so...”

“Ah, I understand. Killia and I will prepare something for the three of us,” Valvatorez decided, looking around his other charges and selecting the most responsible, “Rutile, will you help Christo find a room upstairs for the both of them in the meantime?”

“Y-Yes, Mr. Valvatorez!” Nodding keenly, she rushed to help before awkwardly slowing around Christo, “Um, i-if you’ll follow me,” and taking a very cautious path up the stairs, looking back every couple as if he might have somehow gotten lost behind her on the simple flight.

“Y-You can count on me too, bro!” Zeroken wanted to insist, coming up to Killia a little too close apparently for comfort.

“‘Bro’?” Killia repeated, backing up slightly.

“Yeah! Any fellow student of Sensei’s is a bro of mine!” he enthused with a little hop. “And if Void-!”

“Zeroken,” Valvatorez cut in decisively, “we will discuss that tomorrow.”

The shamed boy stuttered out an apology and slunk ahead into the kitchen, getting a head start on tonight’s inevitable mess.

As everyone else let them be for now, returning to their previous activities, Valvatorez allowed Killia a moment simply to breathe in his whole new situation. Eventually he was able to exhale and find the words, “I’m... I’m glad we were sent here; it seems good here, like it was with Goldion.” The thought seemed to pain him, but, “I feel so lost and trapped right now. When Goldion found me, him and Lieze, they gave me the feeling there could be a light at the end of all the darkness I’d been living in before that. Now I feel like I’ve lost that again, and Christo is the only thing that’s kept me going without it; he’s such a good friend. But now I’ve gotten him involved in all this mess...!”

“We’ll find a way to clear your names, I promise you this, Killia,” Valvatorez said gravely. “And we’ll find a new light for your life as well. I know... what it’s like to meet someone like that.” He was blushing slightly when Killia looked at him, gaze a little distant though. “Thankfully, I don’t know what it’s like to lose them.” Noticing he had been noticed, “F-Food, yes! Let’s make you both some sardines – There’s no situation sardines can’t improve!”

Left simply to stare after those flapping coattails ahead of him, “I guess it really was a good thing I didn’t end up becoming the next Street Tyrant and losing my mind like him...” Killia mused to himself.

~DOOD~

For all the children of the streets Goldion had met, none had burnt as brightly as Killia.

It had been a flame that destroyed everything it touched when they met though, consuming and charring any good that tried to enter his life in the pursuit of self-protection. It had taken someone as strong and determined to be burnt as Goldion to calm that flame into a fire that could potentially warm and nurture those it touched instead, and his daughter Lieze had shown Killia how to do just that. Goldion’s apprentice, and family by that alone in their belief, he had only fostered Killia to make it official.

The belief hadn’t been shared or accepted by Goldion’s son however. And Killia finding a best friend like Christo, beginning a romantic relationship with his sister, was more than Void could apparently take.

A fight, what should have been just a simple brawl between hot-headed teenage boys, had turned to accidental murder when Lieze tried to intervene.

Where that had been unintended by Void, the murder of his father, who planned to turn him into the police if he wouldn’t own up willingly, wasn’t.

Killia had been framed, and Christo dragged into it in order to make the particular tale Void had spun in further revenge on Killia work.

His father’s techniques to recruit and manipulate the vulnerable were all Void needed to start the Lost, his own personal hunting dogs for the pair who had gone on the run.

“With the power and influence the Lost has achieved now, we ended up calling Void’s bluff by turning ourselves into the police before they could find us,” Christo finished the tough tale Killia had told. “He wouldn’t be able to attack us once we were in police custody so it gave us safety, even if it came at a cost.”

“What now you’ve moved here?” Valvatorez had to ask, the hardness of his features from considering both the past and potential future of this situation.

“Those strings my father pulled in getting us released were also to disguise our whereabouts a little longer, just in case,” he answered. “So far as the Lost know, Killia and I will be in police custody from now until our trial in Spring.”

“I see.” After a moment’s further consideration, “The two of you had best avoid leaving this home even to go shopping and the like until then, I’m afraid,” Valvatorez judged.

“We’re prepared for that,” Killia accepted.

“You should be safe to exercise in the yard with us on good days, however,” he continued. “And to that end, it seems an excellent time to present you both with your prinny clothes.”

While he left the room briefly, “Prinny?” Killia couldn’t help but ask with a tone between wary and just plain confused.

“These, bro,” Zeroken explained as he tapped his own prinny hat. “It’s to show we’re family.”

Christo had chuckled. “I had wanted to ask about those.”

Valvatorez was soon back with two sets of jackets and hats, both boys donning them without compunction, although perhaps with a little bemusement as they looked at one another. “It should help disguise our identities at least,” Killia said.

“An early birthday present, I suppose,” Christo agreed.

“Oh, is it your birthday soon, Christo?” Rutile was eager to seize upon.

“Just over a week now, the 25^th.”

“A Jew with a birthday on Christmas?” Laharl mused. “That’s kind of weird.”

“Yeah, like Jesus,” Etna mockingly agreed.

Christo simply laughed about the comment. “It’s actually a very good day for someone Jewish to have a birthday on – It gives you a reason to celebrate too.”

“What about that Hanukkah thing?” Laharl asked.

“That only sometimes overlaps; this year it starts in a couple of days and ends on Christmas Day.”

“Is there any particular way you would like to observe it?” Valvatorez checked. “No one else here is religious, so our plans thus far are simply for a secular Christmas celebration.” He gestured at the slightly ragged, over-decorated Christmas tree in one corner of the lounge, and one could easily observe all the hand-made paper snowflakes and paperchains Blu-tacked to the walls and ceilings along the way. “We can combine your birthday celebration into the main Christmas event, or separate the two,” he thought of as well.

“Thank you,” Christo accepted. “I must say this isn’t how I expected to be spending my 18^th birthday, but I look forward to it being special because of that. A cheap set of nine candles I could light each night would be enough for me to observe Hanukkah, don’t go to any more trouble than that for me. I’d like to roll both into the rest of the Christmas celebrations here, if you don’t mind; you’ve all been so kind to take Killia and I in like this, despite the danger we pose you by association, that I’d like to share everything with you.”

Valvatorez nodded to all that, making a note on his phone for now. While he was at it, “Killia, when is your birthday?”

“The 27^th of April,” he saw no reason to withhold, even though, “Our trial will probably have happened before then though.”

“Yes, let’s move onto that, actually,” Valvatorez said, putting his phone away with a far more serious expression now. “If ‘Spring’ is all the timeframe you were given, we should aim to have your names cleared within the next couple of months.”

Killia blinked up at him from his rather relaxed, forward slouch on the sofa, although his hands still fidgeted where they hung between his knees. “You’re really going to help us with that?”

“Naturally! Both of you are my charges now, and more than that I made you a promise, Killia!”

Etna turned aside to Laharl, eyes ready to roll. “Oh great, he made one of his promises again.”

Though he did briefly glare at her for the expectable sass, “There are now nine of us here with a desire to confront the Lost for its collective actions or those of individual members, for our own sakes or those we care about,” Valvatorez began, striding aside to a spot all eight children could become a single audience before him. “We should prepare to make our move before the advent of Spring, to clear Killia and Christo’s names in time but also before the Lost’s gains in power become too great to confront at our limited size.”

“You’re making it sound like the nine of us are going to take down the entire group by ourselves,” Etna pointed out, a hand raised and incredulous frown on her face.

“Indeed we are,” Valvatorez said.

“Indeed we are so fucking not,” she said. “How the hell are eight kids and you going to bring down a gang with thousands of members?!”

Her lack of faith only gave Valvatorez reason to darkly chuckle however. The newer members of his audience were rightly unsettled, but his longer established charges let it roll by for the slight lunacy it was. “The Lost’s power derives from the many gangs it now has under its control; these gangs are only subservient because of the great number of other gangs already in the fold, however!” Valvatorez broke into full army general didactics with a flaring of his coat. “They were brought together by a core of ragtag street children Void originally recruited, all of whom would be no might by themselves anymore. The Lost now has far greater power in all of its affiliated gangs than its central core, leaving them in a very precarious and exploitable position, should their one lynchpin be removed.”

“Void himself.”

“Precisely!” Valvatorez pointed a commending finger at Christo, although with his own smug pushing up of his glasses he hardly needed it. “Zeroken,” he now addressed, “did Void have any lieutenants or seconds-in-command to your knowledge?”

“No, not really,” he answered, scrunching up one side of his face a little as he thought. “He had a bunch of ‘secretaries’, kids in the gang he’d get to follow him around like a personal assistant, that he’d rotate through almost every day when the last one screwed up or just wore a shirt he didn’t like – He was really vicious about it! – But he always made sure everyone knew him and only him was in charge.”

“As I thought,” Valvatorez continued calmly, although with one aware eye on Killia’s clenched jaw and flushing cheeks. “Void is a boy motivated almost entirely by fear: He killed his father from fear of the consequences of killing his sister. He fears the police finding out he was the true culprit and hence has the Lost avoid them, and that same fear of the police kept him from making a move once Killia and Christo were in police custody. And a fear of losing his increasingly tenuous control of the Lost, supported now by nothing more than the fear each individual part has of trying to turn on the rest by themselves, has led him to isolate all power into his notoriety alone-”

“I’ll give him something to fear!” Killia surged up from his seat with fists raised and enough force to knock away the small table before the sofa without even seeming to feel the pain of the impact. “I swear I’m going to find out where he is and then-”

“Killia,” Valvatorez cut in with enough firmness to quiet the boy despite speaking at only half of Killia’s volume, “Void fears because he is vulnerable – If he wasn’t vulnerable to these avenues of downfall, he would be acting from a place of far more confidence.”

Killia faced him head-on, anger still surging inside but tempered by the wisdom he was at least able to recognise. “So?” he levelled, demanding more than just that though.

“We can use his fears to guide us to the best avenues of incursion; sever the head by removing him, and the rest of the Lost will fall apart overnight.”

While Killia growled, the sense he saw duelling with the irrational rage he couldn’t quite let go of, “What about Majorita, plip?” Usalia spoke up with a coldness every bit capable of rivalling the heat coming off Killia.

“What about her?” Valvatorez asked the girl.

“I need to get my revenge on her, and if the Lost falls apart she might disappear before I get the chance, plip,” she said. “I don’t care what happens to the rest of the Lost, although I want them to pay too if possible. But I need to get revenge for my parents, plip.”

He held her hard gaze for a moment, “Very well,” he accepted in the end. “We’ll make sure to factor her into any plans we make.”

That did little to comfort her, but it assuaged Usalia for now and let her plip back down into her shared armchair with Pleinair.

“And I want Void to pay!” Killia made very loudly clear. “You better not be planning to just turn him over to the police – I need to make sure he feels the pain he caused Lieze and Goldion and Christo!”

“And to you?” Valvatorez questioned.

Killia’s scowl curled up at the same time his gaze dropped down. “I don’t matter. I’m just a piece of shit from the streets. But it’s because those three looked at me and still saw something worthwhile that was worth breaking through to, that’s why I need to get revenge, for their sakes!”

“Killia,” Christo began in a slightly too scolding tone too mature for someone his age, “don’t talk like that-”

“It’s all his fault your life has been messed up like this!” Killia fought back. “I can’t just let him get away with that!”

Christo tried a different track, smiling. “I can cope with this, I don’t mind-”

“You shouldn’t have to cope with it!”

“I appreciate your anger, Killia,” Valvatorez tried to step in, “but too much could cloud your ability to get the revenge that you want-”

Killia had grabbed his shirtfront, “Don’t tell me how angry I’m allowed to be!” before anyone realised, even Valvatorez caught out by the speed.

“Killia, let him go!” Christo tried to intervene, although Valvatorez appeared neither bothered nor offended by the physical confrontation.

“No! He doesn’t get it! He has no idea how much pain Void has caused!” By now, at his height, Killia had lifted the majority of Valvatorez’s feet from the floor in his tight grip. “Not if he thinks I can just calm down about this!”

“Sh-Should we try to save Mr. Valvatorez?” Rutile asked the other spectating children, every bit strong enough herself – And perhaps the only one so – but hampered by her equal politeness.

“Nah,” Laharl judged, scratching lazily at his cheek. “Either he’ll be fine, or he’ll get beaten up and we’ll end up getting out of lessons for a few days; it works out either way for us.”

Christo didn’t seem to agree, now on his feet and trying to pull Killia’s arm free from the hold. “You’re letting your condition get the better of you, Killia.” There was no retort to that, the first time Killia had actually seemed to listen. He still heaved as he breathed though, trembling with rage, and couldn’t loosen his shaking grip one bit. “Whatever Void has done, don’t let him get to you like this-”

“Shut up!” Killia blazed up again, grip clenched so tight in Valvatorez’s shirt it was pulled right up and revealing most of his stomach. “Don’t tell me not to be angry about this!”

“Yeah!” Zeroken popped up beside him, taking Killia’s side as he faced off with Christo through the scene going on. “Sensei and his daughter shouldn’t be dead! Usalia’s parents shouldn’t have been killed! All those kids like me shouldn’t have been manipulated like that! And the two of you shouldn’t be here! Don’t tell us we shouldn’t care so much about all this!” he yelled, his fists balled up at his sides as well, jaw gritted and eyes ablaze.

Killia took his gaze off Valvatorez to look at the equally angry boy stood at his side. Breathing rather than simply gasping as he observed Zeroken, falling into sync with the other boy, with Zeroken’s fierce gaze waiting for him, “Zeroken...” Killia stilled a little.

“I’m so pissed off too, bro!” Zeroken spat out, punching the air in front of him with such fury all technique gave way to raw sloppiness. “If I knew where the Lost were located right now...!”

“...You’d run straight down there and fight them?”

“Hell yeah, I would!” Zeroken mixed in a few kicks now, nearly toppling himself over with his anger.

Finally, “Zeroken...” Killia began to calm down. His grip loosened slowly, and he returned from shaking to merely trembling, “You’re angry too...” letting him slowly start finding his words again.

“Damn straight I am.” Though then Zeroken reconsidered that, “I know Sensei and his family meant even more to you, bro, but-”

“No, I mean...” Killia searched into the other boy’s face. “You’re the first person who’s also angry like me. I felt like... no one else could get it, that no one else cared enough. I thought I was the only one who could feel this angry about it...”

Zeroken finally seemed to get it. “You don’t have to carry all the anger for this by yourself, bro. And once everyone else knows what Void’s done, they’ll all get it too.” As Killia continued to calm, and therefore so too could everyone else in the room, “Uh, maybe you should put Val down now, bro?”

As if one could forget such a thing as still having another person lifted into the air by the shirtfront, “I-I... I’m so sorry,” Killia finally set Valvatorez gently back down onto his own two feet, letting go and forcing his still twitchy hands back to his own sides. “I didn’t mean to-”

“No harm has been done,” Valvatorez said, inspecting his crinkled shirt to ensure that was actually true. “I used to have a stronger temper at your age as well, let alone with the weight of everything you’re carrying, Killia.”

The attempt at assuagement eased his nerves to the same degree it intensified his guilt, a subdued Killia merely focusing on his breathing now to bring himself back under control.

“We will need intelligence on the Lost and Void in particular,” Valvatorez continued, moving on as a form of kindness. “We will also need to prepare ourselves for whatever actions we must take when the time comes. Artina can assist us in the former, and I will train the members of you capable of traversing the streets in the acts of surveillance and reconnaissance; they are useful skills to have for a wide variety of applications regardless.”

“Oh cool, we’re gonna get to be spies!” Zeroken had taken far less to be completely freed of his anger, just the right shiny opportunity dangled in front of him.

“As for the latter, we will increase our daily exercise and self-defence lessons, even if this is hardly the most favourable time of year.” He glanced briefly to the darkening skies outside of their windows. Also thought of in doing so, “I’ll set to acquiring for us a number of weapons in preparation as well.”

“Finally things are going to get interesting around here!” Laharl said, punching a fist into the other palm.

“Everyone...” Killia looked around a room with no hesitant faces or frustration at what they’d been pulled into; he took a hold of the ‘beak’ of his prinny cap, having to pull it down and shield his smiling face from the sight. “Thank you...”

~DOOD~

“Focus on your breathing, everyone.”

The class all stood in tree asana, Laharl and Etna were more concerned with quickly reaching out to try and push each other over without falling over themselves. Rutile and Christo were doing a passable job, if a little twitchy. Zeroken and Usalia were shaky, raised feet often dropping from the side of their knees to stop them toppling over entirely. Pleinair and Killia were the only ones doing it perfectly, Killia so perfectly that, “Zeroken, balance like you do when you do kicks in martial arts,” he advised without the slightest effect on his own posture.

“But I don’t know how I do it when I do martial arts, bro!” Frustration was painted through and through in Zeroken’s little wail.

“Don’t overthink it or try to control it; let your body balance itself.”

“Mmm...!” Zeroken tried really hard, so hard he wobbled even further for a moment before seeming to go full-circle through awareness back into utter ignorance, at last finding his balance.

“I still can’t do it, plip!” Usalia complained, flailing her arms and knocking Zeroken’s newly found enlightenment over in the process.

Valvatorez sighed into the exhale he released his own pose with, “All right, let’s end here for today, everyone,” frowning at the way half the kids had just dropped straight out of pose without a proper exhale. “Final sun salutations to finish off, and don’t think you can get sloppy with your technique just because we’re nearly done for the day!”

A few groans singled out those who had forgotten there was one last due to pay before they could go free, “Is it even right to do ‘sun salutations’ when the sun’s practically gone down?” Etna adding on to the end of her complaint.

“It’s good to begin and end exercise with routine movements,” Killia said, limbs shaken out and already in position without prompting; “it helps you to transition mindset more effectively.”

A few more moments wringing out the dregs of their concentration and good behaviour for the day, and Valvatorez allowed the children their freedom finally to run straight off to video games and TV awaiting in the other room.

Killia and Christo at least had the maturity to not simply speed away and leave Valvatorez to set the desks back into classroom position by himself. “You can go, Christo,” Killia said though. “I’ve got this, if you want to go light tonight’s candles.”

“I’m fine.” Christo was already moving chairs back. “It’s more fun doing it with you.”

Killia smiled genuinely, working away quietly without issue or any tremor to his hands. “I’ve noticed that exercise helps you, Killia?” Valvatorez said, having observed this fact.

“Oh. Yeah,” he answered. “It helps use up the extra energy and reduce any stress that aggravates the condition; Goldion helped me realise that, although I needed his guidance to get disciplined about not doing too much once I found it out.”

“Is the amount we do each afternoon suitable for you?”

“I find time for some extra in the morning before lessons; it’s working fine for me.”

Valvatorez nodded, a little surprised to find the classroom practically back in order already. “You know, it truly is helpful having the two of you here to assist me, even though it’s far beyond your responsibility to help care for the other children.”

Christo merely pushed up his glasses. “We just like to help.”

Valvatorez let the two boys go, straightening up the last chairs himself and sorting through the day’s teaching materials at his poor excuse for a desk.

A quick check of the main room and kitchen, and defusing of the usual squabbles over snacks and control of the TV, he wandered upstairs with his snack of sardine crackers, coming to observe from the doorway of Killia and Christo’s shared bedroom.

Five candles were lit upon the row of juice boxes serving as a menorah in the open-curtained window, Christo setting the centre candle used to light the others back into its slightly higher perch made of two stacked boxes. “Did you want to try it?”

“Yeah,” Killia nodded, folding his hands in his lap as he furrowed his closed eyes, speaking haltingly, “Barukh ata Adonai, Eloheinu melekh ha... ha-lom?”

“Ha’olam,” Christo taught, continuing the rest of that blessing and the subsequent one in a slow and clear pace Killia did his best to match or at least copy behind in practice.

Once complete, they sat quietly for a moment simply staring into the small, flickering flames. Christo seemed to have been aware of their observer, soon beckoning Valvatorez could enter and sit with them.

“I wished to speak with you both, if now is a convenient time.” Valvatorez began.

“It’s fine,” Christo said. “The candles ought to be allowed to burn for about half an hour after they’re lit, and my family always like to spend that time together.”

Since Killia didn’t seem to be making any moves to go anywhere either, Valvatorez pulled the chair up a little closer between their beds. “Your make-up looks good, by the way, Killia.”

“Hm?” He went to touch at his face, before remembering and narrowly avoiding smudging the marks below his eyes. “Oh right. Thanks. I like to apply it when my hands are steady enough, as it helps keep them that way.”

“You like having something to do with your hands, it seems?” Valvatorez hazarded. “You make far more effort with your meals than the other children.”

“Yeah, it gives me an outlet, particularly things like cooking. And I have to monitor my diet for my condition anyway, since I have to eat a lot to keep up with my over-clocked metabolism.”

Christ smiled. “I’m certainly not complaining about getting the second-hand benefits, considering you’re such a good cook.”

Killia smiled too, albeit a little more sheepishly.

“You know...” Valvatorez thought on a sudden whim, “perhaps you would be able to help Usalia, when the time comes, in working out her parents’ special curry recipe?” The uncertain surprise on Killia’s face got him back on topic, however, “But that’s not what I wished to speak with you both about right now, don’t worry. I wanted to discuss your futures, what you’ll do once your names cleared.”

“Our futures?” Killia questioned.

“Yes. Considering you’re both approaching 18 and adulthood, it’s the time to look ahead. Not that you would be under any obligation to leave before you are ready,” he clarified, “but you surely won’t want to stay here when you have your own, exciting lives to begin. I presume you would likely return to your father once exonerated?” he first addressed to Christo.

“Yes. I’ve completed the police training program already, due to my father, so I was simply waiting to come of age to join the force,” he explained. “Although obviously my name will need to be clear of all charges before that can happen now.”

Valvatorez nodded, the simpler of the two dealt with therefore. “What about you, Killia?”

“I... I don’t know. I hadn’t ever thought about it,” he said.

“Even before? When you felt you had found a home with Goldion and Lieze?” he put with delicateness that wasn’t too excessive.

“I just wanted to stay with them...” Killia admitted, an awkward twitch coming into his hands, but one muted by a sadness into little more than a slow unease. “I was just happy to be happy for the first time, to have a home...”

“I understand. That can be enough if you’ve never before had it,” Valvatorez said, looking off a little distantly himself.

Since this slight shift was also as apparent in him, “How did you work out you wanted to do this?” Killia asked the former Street Tyrant.

“Oh.” Valvatorez dropped back into his usual gravitas quickly enough to promise an amusing answer. “The acquisition of Laharl and Etna rather forced me into all this.”

“You were in a habit of just ‘acquiring’ children like that?” Christo asked with a glint of a smile.

Valvatorez sighed, “It seems to be one I have developed since my recovery...” frowning slightly as he groused. “Not that I mind. I suppose it’s...” He looked around his present company, with the two of them proceeding to admit, “This is the place I always would have wanted as a child, with no one and nowhere to my name. That’s what I attempt to provide here.”

“I think you’re achieving it,” Killia said.

And to hear it from him of all the children, “Thank you,” Valvatorez actually softly smiled. “It gives me a meaning to my life, fulfilling the promises I have made to you all, explicitly or implicitly simply by the act of taking you in. I don’t want to see you living without that sense of meaning for as many years as I did, Killia.”

“...Yeah,” Killia agreed, understanding the weight of it now.

“Have you ever had any formal education?” Valvatorez asked.

“No, I’ve never been to school. Goldion was trying to get me a place at Lieze and- at a school, but I never got a chance to go before...”

“Hmm.” Valvatorez’s deep frown of consideration behind closed eyes made just as much sense to Killia, an unenviable and unpleasantly difficult situation to have to guide someone out of. “You are more than intelligent enough to match peers of your age, but the examinations of the mainstream educational system prize obedience to their own style over the actual intelligence you possess.”

“You’re right,” he admitted. “I tried some of Christo’s mock exam papers and I just don’t think like that. I think I could learn to, but it’d take me a few years and by then...”

“You would be noticeably and undesirably far behind your peers already in employment or further education to any potential employer,” Valvatorez said. “A lack of formal education will greatly limit your options. But actually...” Something still forming in his mind under the surface of this whole conversation took a few final moments to crystallise. “The few options still available without it would be of the more vocational ilk that would likely suit you better anyway.”

“‘Vocational’?” Killia needed defined.

“The sort of skilled manufacturing trades one would apprentice in rather than attend classroom education for,” Valvatorez explained. “I was actually thinking... Would you consider a career in cookery?”

“Cookery? Like, as a chef?”

“You’re certainly skilled enough to try,” Christo backed up the idea. “I think it would suit you too, Killia.”

“Even as a diner cook or food stand vendor on minimum wage, it would always guarantee a livelihood. And with the possibility of a far better position if someone recognises your skill, or even self-employment of some kind,” Valvatorez said.

Killia was still staring at him, very slowly looking to Christo and back again. “...I could... do that?”

“Why not?” Christo challenged in encouragement. “It might actually work well with your condition, given kitchens are often quite high intensity environments where you burn a lot of energy.”

“Mr. Champloo’s Culinary College accepts applications based solely on the merit displayed in their skill-based entrance exams, if I remember correctly,” Valvatorez continued, while the momentum was still rolling. “Aiming for such a target, this summer or next, would be an excellent focus to set for yourself, if the idea appeals.”

“I... I’ll need to think about it,” he said honestly, a little adrift in bewilderment.

“Don’t allow yourself to feel pressured by the suggestion-”

“No, it’s...” Killia wasn’t quite sure what. In his attempt to understand though, “...I think it’s going to take time, for me to adjust to the idea of having a future in my life,” he said without quite being sure how to feel about that.

“I understand,” Valvatorez said. “It took me time as well, and Artina’s assistance. We’ll be here for you if you need us.”

“Thanks...” Killia looked to the candles lit in the dark window, the miracle of light that they symbolised.

~DOOD~

“Why do we have to start a vegetable garden in the middle of winter?” Laharl complained, stabbing at the closed compost bag with his trowel. “It’s hard enough to freeze dirt out here!”

“It is not ‘hard enough to freeze dirt out here’. And besides, carrots-” Valvatorez answered, pausing to watch the cascade of good soil that hit the yard floor as Laharl finally succeeded a little too successfully at opening the compost bag, “carrots will grow even in the depths of winter; being buried under the soil keeps them insulated.”

“How long will it take for these to grow?” Rutile asked, popping broad beans down into a planter beside Zeroken with their fingertips.

“Let’s see...” Artina consulted the packet’s back. “It says May onwards, if they’re being planted now.”

“Oh, that’s really not long!”

“Do you like beans, Rutile sis?” Zeroken asked, brushing soil off on his jeans, then panicking and brushing soil off of his jeans.

“Um, no, not really,” she admitted. “But it’s fun popping them out of their pods!”

“What about these onions?” Christo asked, holding out the next for Killia to place into his carefully prepared hole.

“Onions are a late summer crop,” he answered. “But planting them this early will result in a bigger bulb when we harvest them.”

Laharl and Etna had between them up-ended the latest compost bag into the final planter, watching it rip itself steadily more open. Too concerned with cleaning the mess it had left initially on the floor, Valvatorez could only watch as their efforts to lift it off before the planter overflowed resulted in half the bag ripping off, buried deep into its own soil; the rest of its remaining contents made a lovely new mess to clean up all over the yard floor.

While arguments ensued over whether or not leaving the half-ripped bag in the soil might result in more compost bags growing from it as a source, “Plant...?” Pleinair brought the packet of carrot seeds over to the small figure huddled at the kitchen door.

“No, plip...” Usalia turned her already lowered gaze down further to her own shoes. “It... I used to plant things with my parents; it reminds me too much of them, plip. I shouldn’t be doing anything like that, that we used to do together, until I’ve made up for... until I’ve got the necessary revenge on Majorita.”

With one keen ear that had been listening, “Hey,” Killia brushed off his gloves for the moment to come over. “We’ll make sure you get your revenge. Then we can use all these carrots and onions we’re planting to work out your parents’ sweet curry recipe – You said it had carrots in, right?”

“I think so, plip,” she edged, though without any real enthusiasm. “I... I’m going to go to the bathroom, plip,” Usalia excused herself back into the house, leaving the other two to watch her go.

The lowly angled sunlight of winter slowly passed into patchiness, the clouds previously driven away by what meagre warmth there was over the middle of the day reforming quickly and bringing the afternoon to a dull close. Back inside the heat of the house, shove-filled fights breaking out as too many small bodies tried to huddle up against the main room’s radiators before Valvatorez called it was finally time for the second most anticipated part of the day, presents in the morning obviously being first.

While the setting up began, Pleinair was requested to go and fetch down the one member missing from the party.

Usalia was simply sat tucked up into the furthest corner of her bed, one of her books from home on the bed covers in front of her but unopened as if denying herself the pleasure of reading it. The announcement of, “Party...” from the doorway caused her to raise her head to Pleinair, accepting and murmuring she needed the bathroom first.

Pleinair waited silently, gaze tracking over to the prinny hat sat on the still folded jacket upon Usalia’s chest of drawers, never worn since acquired, only pushed slowly further back on the surface.

Soon Usalia did dutifully follow her down to the party in the main room, but sat herself out in the furthest chair, not even turning it from the corner it was tucked into to face the rest of the party.

“Yo, there’s room over here, Usalia!” Zeroken called, patting the most beat-up of the sofas beside him.

“I’m okay, plip...”

“I can help you move the chair, if you prefer that one,” Artina came over to offer.

“I’m okay, plip...”

Valvatorez didn’t try saying anything as he watched the unsuccessful invites slowly fade into discomfort. Instead he showed his kindness by, “Right! Everyone gather around now!” his usual brand of instruction to move things along, all the other kids circling around the low, central table with Artina watching from a seat. “Now that the sun is setting, it’s time to light Christo’s birthday cake!”

“This has got to be sacrilegious,” Etna commented of the nine Hanukkah candles stuck into the top of Christo’s secular birthday cake.

“It’s fine,” Christo laughed it off though. “It’s the final night of Hanukkah tonight so all eight need to be lit.” Valvatorez offered him the matchbox to light the first shamash candle to light the rest with, but he shook his head. “You should light that one.”

“All right,” Valvatorez accepted, striking a match for the first sitting on a slightly raised centre lump of the cake, formed unintentionally but usefully by the less than perfect group baking. As that one small light took hold on the wick, their instructor gently picked it up to pass to Christo first.

Christo accepted, lighting the first candle of the eight. Then he held out the lighter candle to Laharl beside him.

Laharl balked a little in surprise, but shruggingly took it to light the second. “These candles aren’t very exciting – You should have gotten ones that sparkle or blow up or something.” Without prompting, he passed the lighter candle to Etna.

“If the fact we stuck them on a cake isn’t sacrilegious,” she said, lighting the third, “the fact they’re penguin-patterned must be.” It was then passed to Rutile.

“I-I think they’re cute!” She lit the fourth, handing it next to Zeroken.

“Okay, here’s mine,” the fifth candle was lit, a couple of blobs of wax from the shamash dropping onto the cake icing beside it. “Crap, it’s dripping-!”

“I’ve got it,” Killia’s hands swept in, one lifting off the wax with a knife tip while the other wrapped a napkin around the shamash, using it to light the sixth while he was at it. Once it was well-wiped off, it was handed to Pleinair.

She lit her seventh without a word.

But then everyone looked from the unlit eighth to Usalia in the corner. She tried to look at the floor, to pretend she had only been looking there, particularly as Pleinair rose from her position to walk over with the lighter candle. “Light...”

“I don’t want to, plip...” Usalia said in as small a voice as possible, hiding from the shame and guilt of the potential reactions of the room.

Pleinair continued to hold out the candle to her though, even as the hot wax ran down over the napkin edge onto her fingers. “I want you to...”

Usalia looked up with the same blinks as the rest of the room at the most words Pleinair had ever said since meeting any of them. “But...” she wanted to say. But, “...O-Okay, plip.”

The candle was handed over with care to keep Usalia’s fingers from also being burnt by the dripping wax. Usalia kept her head down as she walked over to the table with everyone else, only raising it enough to light her candle and let its small, flickering flame join the rest. She had to look to Valvatorez for what to do with the shamash now, before carefully placing it back on its little lump at his instruction.

“Killia?” Christo offered.

“You want me to do it?” he checked.

“It’s my birthday – Are you going to make me do all the work?” Christo joked.

Killia smiled, settling into a slightly more respectful posture as he closed his eyes in concentration and began the blessing, “Barukh ata Adonai, Eloheinu melekh Ha’olam...”

With the children soon appeased through the wonders of cake and multiplayer video games, it fell to the adults to clear away the mess of empty snack bowls, popper strings and wrapping paper that had escaped this morning’s cull.

“Ah, there’s no need for you to trouble yourself with tidying up here, Artina,” Valvatorez said, seeing he had assistance carrying it all through to the kitchen.

“It’s okay, Mr. Instructor. Besides, I have to pay you back for inviting me in the first place.”

“Y-You don’t need to pay anything back to me,” he said as if the words were physically difficult to get out. “I owe you so much, Artina, and I always will.”

Smiling fondly, she didn’t want to get into a disagreement that couldn’t really be won, not against his obstinacy. “We’re friends, aren’t we, Mr. Weirdo?” she came at it instead. “Friends help each other out without counting favours, or that’s what I believe.”

“O-Oh...” He sounded as if he wasn’t certain enough to disagree. “I see. Yes. Is there... anything I can help you out with then? You’ve done so much to help me this Christmas, loaning me money to make sure each of the children could have a proper present and helping with the Christmas lunch today.”

Though she wanted to defer and refuse as seemed politer, as a friend Artina gave it thought instead. “Mmm... The clinic has been running well, since with the Lost still so active I’ve continued to see far fewer patients coming in, so that’s off-set the normal winter pressures. We have been struggling for donations for some reason this year – Every charity for the needy in the city has been – but that’s the one thing you can’t really help with, money.”

“Ah. No...”

“I wish there were somewhere to get more funding to help everyone in need, during this difficult time particularly.” Artina clasped her hands, eyes growing sad. “Half the patients I see with colds and other minor ailments are only getting them because a lack of necessities like warm meals is taking such a toll on their immune systems.”

“What of your food bank idea?”

“I’ve been trying, or thinking about it at least,” she said, “but there’s the same issue of funding...”

“Hmm...” With folded arms, Valvatorez appeared to be deep in thought.

“If there’s a way you can think to get extra money, Mr. Instructor, it ought to be going to this place and the children here,” she pre-emptively chided.

“I know, I know!” He tutted she would even think he had forgotten her many insistences on the topic. “It’s only right I give it thought at least however, as your friend.”

She chuckled, “All right,” and would allow him that.

“I, um...” Valvatorez glanced in the direction of the main room rather nervously for a moment, before reaching into a pocket of his jeans. “I’m afraid I didn’t have the money or time even to get you much of a gift, Artina...” but he held out to her a very small parcel wrapped in the same slightly misprinted, and therefore discounted, cheap wrapping paper the kids had all gotten.

“Thank you,” she accepted graciously, holding up one slightly playful finger. “Wait and I’ll go get yours.”

Valvatorez did wait, although he couldn’t refrain from doing some tidying in the kitchen during the meanwhile, until Artina returned with a far larger and longer present for him. “Oh my.” The fish-patterned paper squished under his fingers as he received it, looking for the line to unwrap from. “What could...?” He fell quiet as a stuffed fish eye emerged from the paper to stare at him, followed by the rest of the sardine. “How delightful! Thank you!”

Her hands clasped together with a little joy, “I thought you might like something to keep you company in bed at night,” and a little wink.

“A-Ah!” Coughing did nothing to disguise the blush on his cheeks, only drew more attention to his face. “I-I see. Thank you, Artina, this is- It’s very thoughtful.”

It seemed kinder to move onto unwrapping her gift from him, gently tearing through the printer-mangled penguins. She caught what slipped out just in time, untangling from around her fingers a set of gold ribbons with elegant, hand-stitched black patterns.

“For your hair,” Valvatorez explained. “I’ve noticed the- Perhaps it’s better to wear the plain ties you do whilst working. But for occasions you might want something a little more...”

She had taken the end of her long braid in hand from behind her, wrapping one over the tie there and then another over the top tie in the same way. “What do you think?”

“I-It looks... Radiant. You look r-radiant with it,” he stumbled through.

Artina was more focused on the two smaller ribbons still in her hand. “What are these...?”

“Allow me,” Valvatorez stepped forward, taking them from her.

Readying them gently in his fingers, he took each to one of the long strands of hair that hung loosely past her temples, wrapping them with a reverent delicateness and awkward care not to brush against her face. His hands retreated once done, but couldn’t bear to go too far as he looked upon her, golden light glinting off them and onto her cheeks. Her face was caught in surprise, then, “Thank you,” she smiled.

And he flinched away. “I-It’s... I’m glad you like them. I felt I...” Valvatorez realised he wasn’t looking her in the face anymore for this, and rectified it. “I had to get you something, after all you’ve done for me this year, Artina.”

“I feel the same way about you, Mr. Instructor. It’s been so nice, having a friend like you.” She held one of the strands by her face slightly forward where she could better see it, although for once it might actually have been covering the smallest bit of embarrassment in her.

“Y-Yes...” He was only too eager to agree, as always. “What, um...? Are you able to stay any longer or do you need to...?”

“I need to get back to my clinic soon, once I’ve finished helping you clear up, yes,” Artina confirmed.

“Of course, naturally,” he said. “It’s just been so nice, to spend prolonged time with you like this separate of any particular purpose.”

Artina smiled one of those smiles that could make him blush slightly by its power alone. “I know; I miss our mornings and evenings alone at the clinic too.”

Valvatorez really did try to open his mouth and say something to agree, but found himself too flustered to do more than simply nod with excessive eagerness.

She wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer on helping him with the rest of the clearing up, leaving just after as she’d said into the faint mist of a winter night rolling in. All the children had stayed tucked up and occupied in the main room, every last unhealthy snack left out already consumed and even most of the healthy ones. “I suppose you shan’t all be needing to eat much in the way of a proper meal this evening,” Valvatorez crushed down the empty cracker and chocolate packets into the bin, although making any more room on top of all the packaging from the unwrapped presents was a lost cause. “Just take what you want from the kitchen if any of you do get hungry.”

“All right!” Zeroken was up and weaving his way in there instantly.

Feeling that growing tension of a party devolving into restlessness, “How about we all watch a movie together?” Valvatorez suggested, and watched a number of interested faces turn to him at least. “Any favourite holiday movies, anyone?”

“Ugh, I’ll only watch if it’s nothing sappy and Christmas-y,” Laharl spat.

“What about that Halloween-Christmas one, with the skeleton?” Etna suggested, as a typically loud Zeroken-crash came from the kitchen.

“The Nightmare Before Christmas?” Christo knew. “I’d enjoy that, if I get any say as the birthday boy.”

Valvatorez nodded in agreement. “All right. Does someone want to find somewhere we can pirate it online and get it hooked up to the TV?” He looked around for the laptop, noticing in the process, “Usalia?” the small figure disappearing from the loneliest corner of the room into the darkness of the hall, as Zeroken returned with two balanced bowls of popcorn and a plate of yet-to-be-assembled cheese sandwiches.

“I-I think she might just want to be alone for a while,” Rutile said, her uncomfortable sadness saying enough of the rest. “She’s been sitting out since we sliced the cake.”

Though he glanced the way of the stairs bouncing with small, ascending steps, “She’s free to make that decision if she wants,” Valvatorez lay the matter to rest for the children, coming to find his own seat amongst them.

“Perhaps she’s just not much of a party person,” Christo offered. “I probably wouldn’t be joining in with a noisy group like this if it wasn’t my birthday and...”

They all heard the sound of quiet feet descending on the stairs.

Every face in the room was watching as Usalia appeared back around the doorway, her own face down so as to not meet their gazes from under the prinny hat on her head for the first time.

Trying to slink in as close to every wall or piece of furniture as she could, while Killia finished setting up the movie on the TV, Pleinair shuffled up a little into the space Valvatorez made for her to allow Usalia, as withdrawn and tucked up as she still was, to sit together with them.

~DOOD~

Seraphina’s bag dropped down petulantly by her feet as she looked up at this ramshackle shoe box of a group rehabilitation home. Its doors and windows were so functional, walls utterly plain and practical, and the boorish sounds of excited children’s voices were drifting round even from the yard on the far side. “You can’t possibly expect me to live here. Someone like me doesn’t deserve to have to live in such peasant-class dwellings.”

“Well, you can take your chances on the streets if you prefer,” Valvatorez offered, now finished locking the gate behind them. “But given you are 18 in a few months, and the child of a convicted embezzler, no other children’s home in the city was willing to take you.”

“Unbelievable!” She stared at her instructor, who once again didn’t even have the proper deference to realise he ought to have been carrying her bag for her.

No, he simply walked forward to open the front door as if her debasing herself to accept these circumstances was a foregone conclusion. “Should we find a room for you now? Or are you staying out here?” he asked, waiting at the entrance for the girl dressed completely unsuitably for the damp cold of a misty morning in early January.

Seraphina huffed, and she pouted at him, but she picked up her bag and sulkily strutted after him, if he was going to be like that.

“The bedrooms here are designed to be shared by two, but as all our current residents are already paired you can have your pick of the remaining rooms for yourself,” he explained on their way upstairs.

“Good. I refuse to share with some thuggish, unwashed urchin from the streets.”

“The other children are currently outside tending to our vegetable garden under the supervision of Artina, a local nurse who will give you an initial health check-up later. Each resident here is in charge of their own meal preparation, cleaning and laundry – Are you capable of taking care of these, or will you need initial instruction?”

“No, I am not capable of such demeaning labour!” Seraphina wanted to make abundantly clear as they stood on the landing for her to decide on a room. “Someone such as I, who is only here due to the faults of my idiot father, should not be treated like the rest of these unwanted throwaways! I refuse to stay in these- Hey!” she called at him for simply walking away in the middle of her speech. “How impossibly rude are you?! Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of me, as your job?”

Valvatorez was soon back from his own bedroom, a folded set of prinny clothes draped over an arm. “Indeed, and that is why I will simply ignore your pathetic and spoilt outbursts. I am here to instruct you in the responsibility and independence you will require for your adult lives, just as is any other guardian’s duty.” She continued to stand with hands on hips and the most offended scowl. “Now, if you would care to select a bedroom.”

They had quite the little stand-off of obstinacy, one that youth’s impatience for discomfort lost in the end. Seraphina made an insulted show of looking around at the bedrooms available, excited by none but ultimately deigning, “If I must stay in this awful place, I demand the room where I can best avoid the sun; no doubt my skin will suffer enough from what I’m going to be put through here.”

“Very well,” Valvatorez ignored her words, simply following her finger to the one selected. “My bedroom is the one adjacent to yours, should you require anything.”

She made a point of frowning at him. “I require a great number of things to be righted about this situation, but you’ve made it clearly apparent you don’t intend to provide any of them.”

Well, if she wanted something provided, “These are your prinny clothes,” he handed the pile to her, allowing her to unfold them with utter and disbelieving horror. “All my charges receive them so that they can wear them and know they are a part of a family here.”

“I will NOT be wearing such hideous rags!” Seraphina walked into her room just to make use of her bin in there. “And I have no desire to be connected in any way to the street trash living here!”

“Do as you please,” Valvatorez simply left her to scowl and stew, collecting the poor prinny clothes back to be put away for a more grateful owner.

Seraphina huffed as he dared just leave her there like that, and her bag still in the upstairs hallway outside. Like a commoner, she was forced to bring it into the unbelievably poky and ghastly bedroom by herself, dropping onto the unmade bed to pout.

~DOOD~

“It’s a good thing you’re here to ensure the awful conditions in this place haven’t ruined my delicate health,” Seraphina said as Artina removed the tongue depressor from her mouth, coughing slightly at the unpleasant taste. “No doubt I’ll contract all kinds of conditions in such cheap, low quality accommodation.”

“I wouldn’t have thought you could have already been affected by anything here after only half a day,” Artina mentioned, though saw how her patient frowned. “I imagine it’s quite different here from what you’re used to, however.”

“It certainly is! Everything about this place is...” she huffed, touching up her lip gloss now her mouth was finished with.

Artina pulled a face of sympathy as she made her brief notes on that portion of the examination. “You won’t have to be here for very long, as you turn 18 in May. Perhaps you could think of being here in the meanwhile like a residential trip?”

“That’s just what it’s like! My school made us all go on one once where we had to stay in this cheap hotel with no TV or room service for a whole week! It was awful.”

Though she did want to continue sympathising, Artina couldn’t think what more to say, and simply smiled. “Okay, I need to pull down your lower eyelid now to check your iron levels, but I don’t want to damage your pretty make-up.” Seraphina looked conflicted between the valued compliment and what was being asked of her. “It’s especially important to check the iron levels of a girl of your age,” Artina gently encouraged. “A face like yours would be spoiled with by pale complexion.”

Seraphina sat up a little straighter now. “I’m glad someone around here can see sense! Well, all right then.” She reached up to her own eye, gently touching beneath it and trying to pull down. “Like this?”

“A little more. I need to see the part under your eyeball.”

Seraphina made a light noise of disgust at something so biological and ugly, but complied, showing a rather light pink underside.

“It’s a little pale for this point in your cycle,” Artina judged. “If you want to raise it easily with something nice, dried apricots would be very good for you.”

“Fruit has so much sugar.”

Biting her lip patiently, “Green vegetables then? Spinach, peas, broccoli?” Artina suggested.

Seraphina continued to pout off at one of the corners of her room.

“You should try to eat and exercise a little more while you’re here, Seraphina. I know you aren’t expecting to enjoy it here, but you’ll get out of it what you put into it,” Artina concluded as cheerfully as she could, writing the final note on her sheet. It received no response though. Left uncertain what more to say, as a nurse and just a general well-wisher, “...I’ll leave you to sort yourself out.”

Closing the bedroom door behind her again as she slipped out, Artina handed her assessment sheet over to Valvatorez as he stepped up to her. “She’s fine. Although she could ideally do with eating and exercising a little more; she’s a little underweight and has had a quite sedentary lifestyle up to this point.”

“I suspected as much,” he mentioned distractedly, looking over the sheet.

“Although I imagine Seraphina can’t be the most... grateful person to look after,” Artina said, “she is probably going through the largest adjustment of all the children you’ve taken in, Mr. Instructor.”

“I won’t make exceptions harmful to her just because they bring her pleasure,” he said, folding up the sheet to store with the others.

“No, I understand. I just meant...” Well, she wasn’t quite sure how to put it into words; such matters of instruction really were beyond her expertise, although they were truly starting to become a part of his by this point. “Anyway, you certainly are starting to have a lot of children here now, Mr. Instructor.”

“It is getting quite merry indeed,” he agreed. “What of you? How are your patient numbers with all the local unrest that’s been happening this week?”

“I haven’t seen much difference personally, but that may simply be because the Lost are operating so close to here that everyone has escaped from these streets for the time being.”

“Hmm...” Valvatorez looked about the landing, sighing lightly as his gaze passed over Killia’s doorway in particular. “I should imagine the council will take the unrest and abandonment of this area as reason to decrease funding and services, unhelpful as that will be.” When she murmured in agreement, “Have you had any luck sourcing funding for your food bank?”

“I did try, but no. I just don’t think it’s possible...” Artina tried to smile over her dejection, looking away rather than having to face his patient hope in her. “It’s okay. I can still provide what food I can from my clinic for those most in need.”

“Don’t let yourself give up like that, Artina,” he insisted in his too-earnest way, one fist clenched up even. “You’re not the type to lose hope over something like this.”

That did make her smile a little more genuinely, but mostly in amusement. “It’s nice that you see me that way, Mr. Weirdo.”

“But you are that way – You’re always so cheerful and determined! It’s one of the things I find most impressive and wonderful about you, Artina!” Valvatorez choked slightly, especially since she was now looking right at him and his embarrassing admission. “A-As a friend, I mean!” he insisted quickly. “I, um- That is, I find you a very inspiring friend!” Yes, that was what he was going to stick to.

It made her chuckle, something he wasn’t quite sure whether was a good or bad thing. “Oh? Well, in that case I find you a very ‘inspiring friend’ too, Mr. Weirdo,” she played back.

He stalled slightly, trying to work out what that even meant. Deciding it was far too confusing and flustering to confront directly, “I-I’ll see you out then. Thank you for checking on Seraphina.”

“You want rid of me already, do you?”

“N-No! Of course not!” he made great pains to make clear. “I just... wouldn’t want to keep you from your work, and...” Valvatorez let himself trail off; he had made a sufficient fool of himself by this point.

Artina giggled. Especially when his pale cheeks flushed even more.

Things could be awkward between them, but it was a pleasant sort of awkward that maybe they both quite liked.

~DOOD~

“Zeroken!” Yelling for the third time, Valvatorez finally stuck his head into the bedroom of the boy in question. He wasn’t there either, however, and the bathroom door was open showing no one as well. “Where is Zeroken?” he asked Rutile, who was at least in the room placing laundry onto hangers.

“Oh, he’s in Seraphina’s room helping her with her cleaning.”

While a little assistance between charges could certainly be a good thing, Valvatorez set off for Seraphina’s room with a frown this time.

And indeed, the resident herself was reclined on her bed with phone in lazy hand, languidly flicking to scroll, while Zeroken was hard at work in her bathroom. “Zeroken!”

The boy startled sharply enough to send the bottle of bathroom cleanser into the toilet bowl; thankfully it was after he had just cleaned it. “Don’t suddenly yell like that, Val bro!” His features rankled back in slight disgust anyway to have to reach in and fish it out with a cleaning cloth for protection.

“Why are you doing Seraphina’s chores for her?” Valvatorez asked, no sympathy for Zeroken having to wipe the bottle clean now, supposing that would serve as punishment enough.

“She doesn’t know how to clean a bathroom; I just wanted to be nice and help her out, bro.”

“If you truly wanted to be ‘nice’,” Valvatorez made a firm point of, “preventing Seraphina from developing the independence she will need in life is not the way to do it.” He ignored the huff from the bed behind him.

Now grasping his supposed fault, at least in Valvatorez’s eyes, “She came to me begging for help,” Zeroken tried to excuse him. “I couldn’t exactly turn her down.”

“You could, and you will if she tries again in future.” With a point, he ordered the boy from the room. “If you wish to be ‘nice’, go and assist Rutile with hanging your clothes.” As Zeroken trudged from the room in compliance, that left Valvatorez free to turn to the other issue left behind.

Seraphina was glaring at him over the top of her phone, before making a point to fix her gaze back on the screen in a deliberate show of acting that she wasn’t going to pay attention to a thing he was about to say.

“Zeroken won’t comply again now I’ve instructed him not to,” Valvatorez rose above any emotional reproach, sticking to a practical track. “I imagine you chose to target the boys first as easier targets, but the other three won’t fall for your artificial manipulations.” Her violet eyes couldn’t stop themselves from flicking up to him under a frown. “The girls are either too sensible or will hear of what I told Zeroken before the day is out.” When she didn’t rise to the implication, “Don’t think I won’t make you live in squalor until you learn how to take care of your environment.”

Seraphina finally dropped her phone down with a huff of indignation that she knew he absolutely would do that without any possibility of capitulation.

“All you need do is clean your bathroom once a week, vacuum and empty your bins once a week, keep your clothes washed and exchange your towels with the communal supply; until you’ve mastered that there doesn’t seem any point assigning you communal cleaning duties.”

“Oh great! So my reward for making myself filthy and exhausted with all this cleaning is the opportunity to do more cleaning?” Seraphina snarked. “Pass.”

Valvatorez indifferently shrugged, “Do as you like,” walking out of the room.

She glared at the space he left behind, then at her phone until the screen had been untouched long enough to lock itself, before hauling herself up with an effortful noise to inspect her bathroom: The toilet and sink were done, but the bathtub and its attached shower still had the caked streaks of old soap suds and stray, pink hairs that signalled it wasn’t finished. Standing back with her hands on her hips and a deep little scowl, at least until she began fretting about the threat of wrinkles, after a moment of calculation Seraphina strolled out into the corridor.

She had to peer into doorways to work out whose was whose, uncaring as she had been thus far, but soon found the room she was looking for.

Christo was the only one who noticed her, looking up from his writings while Killia remained buried in his recipe book, and greeted her with a smile. “Can we perhaps help you, Seraphina?”

“Yes,” she said, drawing Killia’s attention now too. “My bathroom needs cleaning and that tyrant of an instructor has left it all to me even knowing that I don’t know how to do it. I’d be SO grateful if one of you two gentlemen could come help me out.”

Chuckling, Christo pushed up his glasses until they glinted. “Nice try, but I’m not as dumb as Zeroken.”

She huffed, looking now to Killia and trying to slap a sweet smile back on for him.

“If you really don’t know how to do it, I’d be willing to teach you,” he offered placidly.

Seraphina considered the proposal for a moment, before nodding. “All right, yes.”

“Okay,” Killia agreed, casting around for a bookmark. “But I’d like you to do something for me in return.”

Now she frowned. But, chewing her lip, “What would that be?” this situation merited hearing him out.

“Your family was rich, right? Did you go to high-end restaurants to eat?” Killia asked. “I want to know what sorts of foods they had there.”

“You...?” She wasn’t sure if she was looking for the catch in his request or just utterly flummoxed by it.

“I grew up on the streets so the only food I ever really got was fast food, ready meals and charity donations at food banks; there’s so many foods I’ve never even heard of that I want to learn about.” He held up the recipe book of brunch foods briefly before setting it aside on his bed. “I always thought of food as just something necessary to survive before, but thanks to people like Lieze and Christo I’ve started being able to see how it can be more than that. I think I want to learn how to cook properly.”

“...All... right.”

Glancing across to Christo, Killia realised, “Sorry, I got a little carried away. Let’s clean your bathroom first so at least that’s done.”

Seraphina led the way, although had to be stopped partway so Killia could show her where to collect the cleaning supplies from.

He carried them into her bathroom for her, but once there set them down on the bathtub rim and stepped back. “You should probably change clothes if you’re going to clean,” he also mentioned.

She made no move to comply, instead innocently placing a finger to her chin. “Oh. I thought, since I don’t know what to do, maybe you could teach me by demonstrating it for me this one time.” Her gaze, just as innocently turned aside, now looked over to him with eyes wide.

Killia stood patiently, smiling far too knowingly.

Now Seraphina let her scowl out, holding out a moment longer before stropping into her bedroom to find some more suitable clothes. After much scraping of hangers back and forth inside her wardrobe, and the slamming open and shut of her drawers, “I don’t have any suitable clothes – All mine are far too nice to get dirty.”

Killia had come to watch, and assisted by looking around her room. “What about your prinny clothes? Those would do.”

“Those ugly things? I refused to even have them blight my collection,” she sniffed, before going back to rummaging. “I guess I might have something from last season still at the bottom of a drawer...”

“I wondered why you never wear your hat,” Killia mentioned, touching his instinctively.

“I don’t want to be a part of your silly little traditions; I don’t belong here in a place like this.”

He considered that for a moment. “Neither do Christo and I, technically, since we’re only here because we’ve been falsely accused. But I figured that we are here, and we might as well make the most of it. You never know when somewhere or someone might grow on you.”

Seraphina only looked at him for a moment, scowled, “I have no desire at all for anyone here to ‘grow on me’,” and went back to stroppily searching.

~DOOD~

Though vaguely aware she was no longer asleep, some impolite noise to blame, Seraphina had no desire to become awake either.

The sounds of that rude instructor shouting, “Everyone awake! We’re under attack!” out in the upstairs hallway were much better treated as just the remnants of some bad dream.

She huffed, turning over and pulled up the utterly basic duvet and cotton sheets this place provided as bedding around her head, blocking out the cold of pre-dawn early February and noises of footsteps and voices. Curled up on her side, she would squeeze every last moment out of the time before she was demanded out of bed to make her own breakfast amidst half a dozen other hungry, squabbling children.

She pulled the covers down tighter over her ears as something insisted on making more noise completely inappropriate for this sort of time.

Eyes closed, she exhaled and tried to take the luxury of letting her mind drift so she could doze back off into sleep. There was nothing pleasant about another day here to look forward to, nor to remember about the day before, so what was the point in starting to think?

Eventually she realised she had been awake long enough that thinking and awareness could not be ignored anymore; she couldn’t get back to sleep.

Turning back over with a more intense huff this time, Seraphina propped herself up slightly to scowl there were people shouting and thumping things around outside at this time of night. And it was still firmly night, the cheap curtains of her room allowed her to tell – Such a gauche part of the city!

She fumbled for her phone on her bedside table, eventually pressing a button that lit the screen up with ‘4:32’, which meant, “It’s far too early for this...!”

Pulling herself out of bed with the upmost indignation, she toed on her slippers and groped around on the end of her bed for her robe, knotting the chiffon over her nightgown for warmth before stomping her way coldly out of the room.

Every bedroom in this place was empty, forcing her to walk all the way down the stairs into the even colder lower floor to receive her due answers.

She began to frown when no one was in the kitchen or main room, all lights off, leading her gaze to the front door beyond which all the noise was definitely coming from. This really was too much, making her go outside at night of all things, just to find out why anyone thought it was acceptable to disturb her precious sleep.

Seraphina yanked open the front door, “Just what is going on out here?!” stepping out onto the front porch before her eyes had a full chance to adjust to the intense light of some very inconsiderate streetlights-

Some very inconsiderate fires, burning in trash cans and on the very stones of the yard floor itself with blue-green flames. They lit a battlefield of a couple dozen bodies, most still up and fighting but some slumped or sprawled across the ground. The smaller ones were people that had grown familiar to her after a couple of weeks, messy and inelegant brats now decorated with blood and bruises. The rest were dark, ill-fitting, monstrous thugs, already wrapped here and there in bandages on top of grungy hoodies and tracksuit bottoms. Most were locked so close in combat they could only be using their bare fists to attack one another.

Seraphina looked about the immediate area around her, too frozen to even startle back from Christo’s body laid out face-down at the front of the porch step. She eventually manage to wrench her gaze away, looking around for sense and salvation in this nightmare.

Her eyes met with those of one of the invading gang though, who fixed his sights on her stood in front of the open front door.

She was too frozen to even scream as he ran for her.

“Seraphina!”

She was still frozen as she watched Killia slide into the gap between her and the thug’s fist coming into strike, taking that punch to the side of his head which sent him staggering, nearly reeling down onto the floor. But he kept enough stance to lunge forward in reply, grappling the thug away from her even as he was kicked and set upon by two more.

Killia swung the thug he had hold of into one of the two incomers, giving him space to lay into the other with a combo that knocked them out cold once they toppled backwards over Christo’s legs and brained themself on the stone floor.

The thug who had been manhandled into use as an assault weapon came in for revenge on Killia. The other, once back on his feet, turned on Seraphina though.

This time she did start stepping back as he came for her, her mouth opening but that was as far as she got in crying for help.

He was nearly upon her when that other thug came crashing into him once more from behind, Killia making it certain this time with an axe kick dropped onto the necks of them both, keeping them down for the count.

“Are you okay?” he panted out, hand wiping across blood running down the side of his face beside a squinting, bruised eye.

She tried to answer, but could only manage to simply nod.

“You should get inside and keep yourself safe,” he took the time to tell her, before turning back to the fight still ongoing behind him, taking the most minimal moment necessary to catch his breath.

Her feet moved backwards on instinct, following his words, until they had taken her back through the doorway into the hallway. Seraphina pulled the front door shut for safety, but found she had to keep it open a crack now. To see Killia dive back into the fight to pull a thug off Zeroken’s back, suffering blows for providing the assistance. To look at him fighting with a raw desperation, always right on the edge of losing his tenuous grasp on the situation at any moment. To watch him piled upon by multiple of the thugs, only saved when Christo revealed he wasn’t quite down for good after all by intervening with police academy apprehension techniques until Killia had the chance to knock them out.

She witnessed what was left of the fight unfold through that small crack of vulnerability, waiting there even once all activity had subsided into a tense moment where no one still standing could quite believe it was over, blue-green fires still casting the yard in their ghastly glare.

“...Get the injured inside and the gang members outside the gate,” Valvatorez finally called, breaking the silence from where he leant weakly back against the chain-link fence. “Put out the fires. And someone call Artina to treat the injured.” He attempted to help with the carrying himself, but so soon ended up down on his knees that Killia had to make him one of the ones carried in for treatment.

Seraphina pushed open the door for his approach, allowing in Etna dragging Laharl bodily and noisily along the ground first. She waited on Killia to make any move though, staring hesitantly on until he finally noticed her.

“Can you go phone Artina?” he requested, taking a little extra effort to heft Valvatorez through towards the main room in his own injured state.

Seraphina nodded mutely, running for the stairs before even thinking about it.

She was upstairs in her bedroom, phone in hand scrolling through so many old names she couldn’t even possibly consider contacting in the life situation she was in now to one of the numbers recently impressed upon her contacts list, when the whole situation caught up with her. She was shaking, phone edge knocking against her ear, as she waited through the dialling rings while looking out at the bodies being moved outside. Some of the thugs were groggily coming to, being subdued by whomever still had the remaining strength as they were all dumped out into the road outside in a heap. The gate was being shut and locked by the time Artina picked up and Seraphina babbled out some sort of description of the events; she was too busy watching Pleinair stood at the gate, shooting at anyone from the heap that dared try approach until the pile of thugs got the message, while the fires of the fight were finally extinguished, leaving only dark cold outside.

~DOOD~

No lessons would normally have been a great cause for celebration and mischief. But this frosty morning, the sky a hard grey outside, there were too many bandages and splints in the room.

Valvatorez was sat in his normal teacher’s seat at the front of the classroom, too fatigued himself to help in the final members of the class for the delayed start to the day.

“Are you okay?” Rutile let go to watch Zeroken tumble himself into his seat, landing awkwardly against its back before getting his posture together.

“Yeah,” he winced, straightening out his splinted leg. “But damn it, I just fixed this ankle a few months ago!”

Rutile took her own seat, the least injured perhaps but most exhausted from all she had therefore done for everyone else, meaning all were now sat.

Valvatorez attempted to rise from his own seat, before deciding he would conduct this meeting still seated for his own health. “Our assailants this morning were the Undead gang; if not already the impetus for the attack, the Lost now knows Killia and Christo’s location here.”

The boys in question, battered but holding up, shifted awkwardly. Christo looked to Killia, whose head bowed before he lifted it to speak, “We’ll leave. If we stay here you’ll all be in danger of being attacked again.”

“Back to the streets?” Valvatorez presumed. “Will that ensure your safety? You won’t be able to confront the Lost alone. Neither will it protect us, with the presumption you are still here and fact we will be the best source for information on your new whereabouts.” The fair points cowed him again into a clenched-fist desperation. “The two of you would do best to stay. We will have to make our move quickly now, lest we wait and allow them the upper hand of moving first.”

“We’re launching our assault?” Killia looked up, caught equally between hope and fear.

Valvatorez nodded. “As soon as we are sufficiently healed and prepared. We will doubtless sustain further injuries when the time comes, so anyone medically unfit or otherwise unwilling may sit out and provide remote support. Tentatively, I hope to make our move in around four or five days-”

“I need to go after Majorita, plip!” Usalia, curled up and trembling occasionally in her seat up to this point, finally burst up with red fury. “I can’t let her get away again like this morning-!”

“Usalia,” Valvatorez spoke over her calmly, “my plan is that we will be going after the Lost through Majorita and the Undead gang.” That quietened her, even if it didn’t yet calm her back into her normal small and yellow self. “If you can wait, recover and prepare, I can assure you Majorita will not walk free at the end of it.”

Chewing that over, “I want to be the one to take her down, plip,” was her one demand before she was willing to calm back into her seat.

“Of course,” Valvatorez nodded. “Artina,” he finally turned to their guest sat politely in one of the spare seats, “with the need to recover and prepare we shan’t have time to conclude our own reconnaissance investigations in full. Could I ask you to use what contacts and knowledge you have to gather all intelligence you can on the Undead gang for us?”

“I’ll do what I can,” she agreed. “But I want to sign off anyone who wants to fight when the time comes; some of the injuries you all sustained today were quite serious, and I don’t want anyone putting themselves in danger trying to fight when they’re not at full strength.”

“Thank you. Anyone else?” he opened the floor. No one had much left to say that hadn’t already been sworn through gritted teeth while their wounds were disinfected or muttered into their breakfasts this morning. “We’ll focus on self-defence training and other necessary lessons for the next few days instead of our normal curriculum,” he continued. “For now, everyone take the morning off to rest.”

His students didn’t leave their seats with much glee despite the pleasant command, most too tired and only interested in going back to their beds to catch up on lost sleep.

Seraphina hesitated a little longer, looking around the others all paying her no attention and in such a different state to her uninjured one. She did finally move though, hurrying a bit to catch up with, “Killia! Wait!”

He had been just about to head back up to his room with Christo, but held back for her at the bottom of the stairs. “What is it?”

Awkward, and only furthermore for acting unlike herself in being so, she allowed the other kids to walk past and Christo to get the message to go on ahead before saying, “I... You saved me earlier. I just wanted to...”

“It’s all right,” he said. “I’ve seen you during self-defence class, that you don’t know how to fight.”

“You were, um, so courageous,” she wanted to say something like that, but winced slightly at what actually came out. “You’re not just a weird and boring street urchin after all.”

“Thanks. I... didn’t know that was what you thought of me.”

Seraphina had a contained little freak out. “I didn’t mean to-! That’s-! Don’t take it like...” She calmed down to realise he had taken it with good humour though, and felt her cheeks secretly blushing beneath her make-up. “I just... wanted to thank you. For saving me.”

“Sure.”

He turned and walked away, naturally presuming they were done.

She flailed for more to say, to keep him there while she figured out what she actually wanted to say to him. Killia forced her to chase after him though, heading up the stairs in his wake and following right to his doorway. There she was painfully apparent to Christo already lying on his bed inside, and Killia who now turned around curiously.

“I, um...” she stammered, a completely ungraceful act, to give herself time to come up with the excuse, “What should I do if those ruffians come back? They might come back, right?”

“I doubt that particular group would come back straight away with the wounds we inflicted upon them,” Christo judged. “But you may be right more of the Lost might come to attack this place now that they know.”

“Just stay inside if there’s any more fighting,” Killia advised her plainly. “If you don’t know how to fight, you’ll just end up being a liability if we have to defend you.”

She heated up uncomfortably at his words, and didn’t think she wanted to look too closely into the emotions that let him get to her so easily. “I-I can learn to fight! My father gave me a gun to protect myself a few years ago. And I’ve been doing those sweaty, undignified self-defence classes with the rest of you. I’ll show you I’m not a liability to you!”

“Even if you have a gun,” Killia settled too comfortably on his bed as a seat, as if this conversation wasn’t even that important to him, “you’re obviously not accustomed to fight situations given how you froze up today. When we go to face the Lost it’s going to be a very intense fight; you’ll be safer off here at home.”

“But...! But I want to come with you!” she insisted, and then rationally wondered what on Earth she was saying. “That is... Everyone else here is a part of this fight against the Lost; I want to be as well. I’m tired of being left out.”

Christo chuckled “Really? It always seemed like what you wanted to me.”

Seraphina huffed lightly at him, choosing to focus only on Killia. “Now that you have saved my life, we are bound together, Killia. I can’t let you walk into such danger alone.”

“You really can.” There was a certain weariness to his voice that already knew she wasn’t going to listen. “In fact, it would be easier for me if I didn’t have to worry about you out there-”

“Your concern for my well-being is heart-warming, Killia,” She threw a frown Christo’s way, “and depressingly unique among the residents here, I must say.”

“It’s not that I don’t care about your well-being,” Christo defended himself with a shrug. “But it’s not as if you seem to care any about any of our well-beings, so you’ll have to forgive people for acting in kind.”

“He’s got a point,” Killia said.

Seraphina flustered, feeling a tension grip up and down her spine. “I-I do care! That’s why I am coming to fight alongside you all! I’ll show you, Killia, that I am one of you all too!”

They watched her turn and strut on her stylish heels – Clothing alone that really marked her out from everyone else’s practical, cheap trainers – heading in the direction of Valvatorez’s room.

Its resident was resting upon his bed, various sheets of paper spread around him or being actively cross-referenced as he wrote upon a notepad with a small, pensive frown. Always ready and willing for his charges, however, “May I help you, Seraphina?”

“Yes. I want my... those clothes you give everyone,” she said, gesturing generically with a little aversion to her own request. “I want to show everyone I’m one of them too, and come to fight with you all.”

He raised an eyebrow, but when she didn’t allow herself to relent set his papers aside to head to his wardrobe. “Very well, you are entitled to your prinny clothes if you want them now.” He dug a set of a hat and jacket out of the box kept in the bottom, presenting them to her. “Although, given your reluctance and lack of effort in our self-defence lessons, I have severe reservations about allowing you to fight with us. Each of the rest of us has our own reasons for wishing to risk our lives in facing Void and the Lost he commands; without such motive-”

“I have a gun my father gave me. I know how to use it.” Seraphina didn’t take her prinny clothes with much relish, but she did try to make herself enjoy having her own set to hold at least. “And I do have my own reasons, as a member of this... place. To protect those I care about here.” His eyebrow rose even higher this time. “Don’t look at me like-! Wait, ‘Void’?”

“Void is the leader of the Lost we intend to fight.”

“Are we talking about a boy around my age? White hair, bad attitude, even worse fashion sense?”

“I can’t say I know many particulars about him as an individual; you would have to ask Zeroken or Killia for such facts, although I would suggest you don’t given their history with Void.”

Seraphina placed her hands on her hips and huffed, though not at Valvatorez in front of her. “I think I know who we are talking about – That jerk and his twin sister went to my school, and he had the gall to think he was worthy of dating me!”

“You?” Valvatorez’s surprise luckily passed as seeming on her side, rather than doubting her potential allure to any romantic partner. “Although I suppose, if he were jealous of Killia dating his sister Lieze...”

“Dating-? Killia has a... girlfriend?” she asked a little quietly and shyly for her.

“Had. Void killed her. That’s what all this is about, at its origins.”

Seraphina chewed on her well-glossed lip for a long moment, before leaving without another word.

She shut her bedroom door behind her, dropping the prinny clothes upon her dresser on instinct before staring at them. She was lost in the thousand yards of her own stare for quite a while before realising herself, and then vacillating in the confusion of what she was even so cut up about inside.

Because that was what she was feeling, an emotional pain of some kind.

About Void, and being reminded of his attempts with her?

Or this stupidly dangerous fight she had gotten herself into because...

Because...

...Why had she been so desperate to get herself into this?

~DOOD~

Night had fallen early under a cloudy sky, further darkened with the promise of rain soon to fall on the quiet streets Valvatorez walked, coat only fluttering minutely behind him tonight.

Nine faces just as determined beneath their prinny hats followed him, most prinny jackets done up tight against the February cold. A hot pink buggy of a car accompanied at a distance behind them on the road, heading on ahead but parking at the entrance of the abandoned end of Spirit Interment cemetery. Artina got out to stand and watch them arrive, nodding she would be waiting there, keys in the ignition ready.

Walking beyond the slightly fallen in archway, Valvatorez stopped to turn and count each head of the group present. Weapons were hefted, and safeties were clicked off guns. “We’re heading in now. From this point on, we could be set upon at any moment so I want everyone on their guard; make sure someone is watching each direction and stay together now.”

His charges assembled themselves with an instinct that surprised even him, the more injured shifting to the back with complete trust in those actually facing the danger they were about to walk forward into.

Only one failed to form with the rest of the group, darting forward ready to pass Valvatorez himself into the overgrown, trash-filled graveyard ahead.

A simple arm held out halted her. “Usalia.”

“Majorita is mine tonight, plip,” she growled out, her reddened expression facing him down not to get in her way any longer.

“Do not fall at the last hurdle by rushing now,” he counselled her. “We are about to be far outnumbered in this fight. If you follow my lead tonight, I give you my word you will be the one who can deal with Majorita when all is said and done.”

She continued to scowl up at him, past the brim of her prinny hat. He held her fierce anger patiently though, without fear or judgement. “...Okay, plip.” Usalia dropped a few steps back to the very front of the group, between Rutile and Pleinair comprising the least injured front force.

Laharl and Etna, slightly bruised but weapons in hand, had one side. Killia and Seraphina, less immaturely itching for a fight, held the other. Zeroken and Christo, cautious of their injuries, covered the back.

“If they attack us first, we fight,” Valvatorez recapitulated. “If we have a chance to speak, allow me to speak for us; I know you all have many grievances to air, but this night is not just about tonight and those in front of us.” He waited to allow the gravity of the situation to sink in. “Aim to be non-lethal where possible, but your lives are on the line tonight, and I order you to do whatever it takes to protect them. Anyone who becomes injured and is able to escape safely, there is no shame in heading to Artina; everyone is ultimately here of their own volition tonight, and therefore responsible for their own safety.”

Killia glanced over a shoulder at Seraphina behind him. Her grip on her pistol looked practised, but nothing else about this situation seemed at all familiar to her.

“Come,” was all the notice Valvatorez now gave them to prepare, turning back to lead them forth past the limply hanging, dead branches and tumbled tombstones that deterred the undetermined from heading any further in.

Beyond, the scorched earth littered with rubble and detritus looked to be pervaded by a slight haze, spreading between the crypts and lost pathways. The haze soon became clear to be a light smoke catching the glow of its source in the small blue-green fires lit here and there in trashcans and broken pots, the larger ones huddling small groups of Undead in their warmth.

With none of the shabby figures moving on them, Valvatorez’s group continued to advance at a pace striking balance between caution and confidence. Instinct and the watching eyes led them towards the largest space of the forgotten graveyard, a clearing once a neat junction of its paths now rendered into a mere patch of slightly clearer dirt and light.

Reaching the centre there, Valvatorez brought them to a pause as he assessed the tension all around, the obedient lack of movement upon the intruders to this territory. “There’s no use in further hiding, Majorita. Your presence here is quite obvious, and we shan’t be leaving until I have fulfilled my word that Usalia and the rest shall have their revenge tonight.”

They waited through the stillness, shifting subtly as a few Undead did begin to shift now.

Finally a small figure made a petulant show of walking herself out from one of the crypts ahead of them, taking a stand on a stone coffin to look down upon the group with contempt.

“Majorita!” Usalia snarled forth at Valvatorez’s side, not making moves to pass him though.

“What do you want?” The brat cocked a hip to one side, smiling cruelly though to see Usalia. “Angry we came to rough up that trash heap of a home you’re hiding two fugitives in? Or did you bring this new family of yours to me so I can kill them for you as well?”

An incomprehensible scream of rage was all Usalia let out, but Valvatorez’s steadying hand on her shoulder stayed her feet from recklessness.

He observed Majorita’s shit-eating grin of being able to taunt them unchecked, placing his other hand in his jeans pocket, before addressing her. “So it’s true then, that you murdered Usalia’s parents from a jealous spite at losing your own family?”

“I couldn’t stand what a little shit she was,” Majorita now spat, “acting like a spoilt brat and running out on her parents. I did it to teach her a lesson, for all those times she flaunted having the perfect family in my face at school.”

“And assisting Void in running the Lost?” he continued, squeezing in comfort as he felt Usalia’s trembling. “What is your reasoning for that?”

She folded her arms around herself. “Void actually provides a home and purpose for all of us kids everyone else just wants to throw away like garbage. And he knows what he’s doing; this way, people with the skills and intelligence like me actually get to be someone, instead of being held back because we weren’t lucky enough to be born into the right life.”

Valvatorez’s small frown knitted, proceeding carefully. “While I do sympathise with the plight of the disadvantaged you speak of, does it not bother you that Void took the lives of his sister and father? If Usalia’s lack of appreciation for her family aggravated you so, how do you countenance Void’s actions?”

“He didn’t mean to kill his sister like that,” she answered. “And his father shouldn’t have tried to sell him out to the police; family shouldn’t do that. So if he had to kill his father to save his own skin, I can accept that.”

“And blaming it on Killia and Christo?”

Now she grinned again. “Yeah, I thought that was pretty clever of him. Who’s gonna believe he would kill his own sister and father, after all? Those two idiots are the perfect scapegoat so Void can continue his work giving us street kids some power back in our shitty lives. The ends justify the means, or whatever.”

“Hm.” Valvatorez let the note out with almost a hint of amusement, a peculiar enough affectation to hold the attention of all present. “I happen to also be quite interested in empowering the disadvantaged youth of these streets. To wit, I am the instructor of these children in my company now. I instruct them daily in the lessons they will need to survive in life.” As everyone began to wonder where the hell this circuitous character exposition was going, Valvatorez finally removed his hand from his trouser pocket, “Such as today’s lesson,” holding it up with his smartphone now casually displayed, an audio waveform on the screen fluctuating as he finished, “that one should always keep your phone’s audio recording app readily accessible at any time; you never know when you might need to record evidence of police brutality, sexual harassment during a job interview or, say, a criminal confession of murders.”

He felt Usalia stop trembling beneath his hand, stilling like everyone else present as they simply stared at Valvatorez and what he now held in his hand.

Majorita stared most stunned of all, “...You piece of shit!” finally finding her horrified and infuriated voice after the great gap of silence.

Valvatorez gladly accepted the response with a chuckle. Stashing his phone firmly in a quick movement, “Prinnies!” he threw out his coat with a declarative flourish, now drawing his sword-like pipe to hand. “It’s time to take back our Netherworld!”

The first rule in a street fight is to avoid fighting wherever possible. When avoidance or escape is not a possibility though, the next most vital is to claim the massive advantage of being the one to land the first blow.

Each part of the prinny formation launched forth in their appointed direction, taking the fight to the closest Undead to hand. Half dived into the fray up close, weapons and martial arts clearing a way through the chaos of the graveyard. The rest held back with guns and explosives in hand, providing coverage but also turning the disarrayed clutter of the environment to their advantage by baiting the oncoming Undead through it if they wanted to halt the hail of bullets and Molotov cocktails protecting the front line of attack.

Blood-orange fire raged against the blue-green flames, throwing miscoloured glows over the blue of prinny jackets and shadows over the dark, grungy outfits of the Undead. The sheer cacophony of communication with allies and foes rendered itself useless, especially as bodies began to hit the floor and choking smoke began to thicken in the hazy air.

Soon Etna was down cold with Zeroken crouched over her, unable to move but able to defend her with what remained of his own consciousness while Laharl and Christo held the backline. Bullets and flaming balls of trash held away anyone thinking of coming around from that side, leaving the true fight on the front end now.

Blood flew from Killia’s arms and face with each swiping punch and dodge to clear through the steady stream of Undead coming from their barracks off to one side. Any time he felt the grip of fear from one too many enemies in his periphery though, he had come to trust now those bullets coming from Seraphina’s pistol covering his back. And any time Seraphina had an opportunistic breakaway charge her way, she watched a body come flying to tackle it down from where Killia fought, no one ever getting within ten feet of her.

Pleinair’s speechless shots cleared a path for Rutile’s strength to cut through the prime fighting bulk of the Undead before them, diverting bullets aside when necessary to Valvatorez’s clean slaying of the most skilled opponents and Usalia’s berserk and indomitable charge towards Majorita.

Tiredness finally quieted the shouts and cries of pain as the remaining fighters fell, either in defeat or exhausted victory.

Eventually no one remained above a crouch, every Undead laying or slumping crushed where they hadn’t run from the fight, the prinnies taking the opportunity to rest if still conscious with even Valvatorez knelt and propped up for support by his ‘sword’.

And Majorita lay sprawled before the broken edges of a wide stone coffin, breathing raggedly as her hands grasped at the dirt for the strength to pull herself up.

A white shoe came down on her bare stomach though with unforgiving weight, pressing her back down under the barrel of the gun Pleinair now pointed onto her.

Valvatorez struggled back to his own feet in order to help Usalia to hers. Fury was the support Usalia’s legs found to drag herself back up and over to the other girl laid out on the ground, standing leant on a nearby tombstone for support.

Pleinair’s gun kept Majorita pinned for her.

Valvatorez’s sharpened piping was held out to her, if she wanted to take it. “I promised you your revenge, Usalia,” he spoke solemnly. “How you choose to take that now the time is here is a choice I leave to you, of which path and its consequences you wish to walk with your life. I won’t stop you if you wish to meet murder with murder, or if you will allow the systems of society to right her wrongs for you instead.”

Stood staring at Majorita beneath her finally, Usalia trembled hard enough to feel as if she was going to shake herself apart.

Her quivering hand reached for the piping, prompting the terrified stammering of Majorita, “D-Don’t-! No, p-please-!” as she was unable to even hold her hands up in weak defence of her so vulnerable body now.

Those still conscious enough to turn their heads that way watched, too concerned to find out what the verdict would be to make any move except pushing themselves up just enough to be able to see. In particular, Killia pulled up his shirtfront to wipe away the blood flowing over one eye, and Zeroken grasped clumsily at Etna’s abandoned ‘spear’ of a road sign to prop himself up despite his injuries. The brief flash of light in Valvatorez’s hand as he checked his phone proved it still intact with its vital recording. Majorita’s weak protests for mercy continued disregarded, the only sound aside from so many lungs that barely dared breathe right now.

Usalia had dragged herself forward to stand right over Majorita, no space between them now and the heavy pipe hanging down in Usalia’s small arms.

She stood over Majorita, living out every moment of grief and fury and horror as she gasped for breath alone. Her eyes pierced into Majorita’s. And her hands tightened around the pipe.

But her gaze tracked across to Pleinair’s gun, being held on Majorita for her, and Usalia’s hands loosened back up now. “...Turn her into the police, plip.”

Valvatorez nodded, walking up behind her to take the pipe from her hands.

Usalia continued to stand over Majorita, to watch the justice of her arms being tied behind her back along with all the rest of the Undead who couldn’t escape it, simply watching with Pleinair stood at her side.

~DOOD~

“I did it, Mother, Father. I managed to get my... revenge, plip,” Usalia said to the two graves she stood before, her voice slowing though as she spoke. “...I don’t... I thought it would make this better, plip. I thought revenge was what would...” She had to bring her prinny jacket sleeves up to her eyes already, rubbing beneath them. “I-I’m sorry, plip... I sh-should have come to your f-funeral... And I-I shouldn’t have...!”

When one of her hands dropped from her crying eyes, Pleinair’s was there to hold it gently beside her. “Here...”

Usalia cleared her remaining sniffles out of the way, looking slightly up to the other girl. “Huh, plip?”

“You’re here...”

Usalia looked at the two graves again, that she was stood before now. “I’m sorry, plip...” She had to apologise to them again though. “I didn’t know what to do, plip, not when it was my fault. I still don’t. I wanted to... I should have died, not you, plip. I wanted to, when I finally got my revenge, plip, because I don’t want to think about living without you.” Her hand tightened in Pleinair’s for comfort.

Pleinair squeezed back, her other arm squeezing around Usagi she held to her chest in the brisk, pre-Spring gusts.

“B-But I have to now, plip,” Usalia continued. “I-I... I don’t want to die anymore, plip. Because there are other people who don’t want me to die now, and I care about them. I made so much trouble for Valvatorez and everyone, but they still helped me, and I need to make that up to them, plip. So...” She rubbed across her eyes once more. “I will never forget you, plip. But I-I want to be a part of this new family too. I hope that’s okay, plip.”

Across the way, at the junction of paths that lead away to each group of graves, Valvatorez stood watching the two girls who couldn’t be heard from here continue to converse with those silent graves. Rutile stood at his side, also watching with a slightly sad, bitten lip.

“This place is a lot nicer than the place your mother and father are buried in, Prince,” Etna mentioned, occupying the full length of the nearby bench with lazy decadence.

“What does it matter what it looks like,” he muttered back, sat with his butt on the bench’s back and feet on its seat beside Etna’s legs, “when they’re stuck in boxes under the ground and can’t see it?”

“Well, yeah...” she agreed a little awkwardly, afraid to be fully apologetic if the words had hurt him. “But it’s still nicer for the people visiting.”

Rutile couldn’t help turning to listen to the conversation, “Wh-Where...?” nor joining in, “Where are your parents buried, Laharl?”

“Uptown. Near Sicily’s hospital,” he answered pretty impassively, although his gaze turned down to the well-trodden grit of the ground.

“Are you going to go visit still like before?” Etna asked. “Mother’s Day is coming soon-ish, and then her birthday.”

He huffed lightly. “I guess I have to, since Sicily will get the hospital to take her and she’ll get all upset if I’m not there to hold her hand.”

“What about your father? Are you going to go on Father’s Day and his birthday?”

“Ugh, maybe I’ll do him at the same time as her – That’s too many visits!” he said, but his gaze turning aside pensively looked as if he was taking the matter inside of himself to consider.

Etna asked no more, her own gaze dropping, before she turned to glance over her shoulder at the other party currently waiting.

Stood down the path at one of the junctions, Seraphina held her thin jacket close around her. Christo stood a few steps behind her with a more comfortable expression, made a little wonky by his broken glasses, as they both looked on from a polite distance.

Zeroken winced slightly from his injuries as he settled into a knelt position beside Killia, both bowing their heads to the lion-engraved gravestone. They allowed silence for a long moment, before Zeroken’s eyes glanced aside to see if they should say anything.

Killia took up the mantle first, “Hey... Goldion...”

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to come visit you, Sensei,” Zeroken agreed. He glanced again, but since Killia nodded he could continue if he did want to speak, “And... I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I fell for Void’s lies, that I let myself be led astray trying to get justice for you. I let you down, allowing myself to do all that bad stuff supposedly in your name. I’m pathetic; I wouldn’t even have been able to escape it without Val and everyone finding me and helping fix me up, then giving me a new home and giving me my freedom back with it.”

“Zeroken...”

“I’m still super useless,” he continued though. “Rutile sis has to show me how to do everything, I keep busting my ankle every time I get into a fight, and I screw something up in the kitchen every single day. But they all still want me around. You were right, that there’s a place in the world even for someone as useless as me. So I’m glad we could get revenge for you in the end. Thanks for everything, Sensei.” He looked over that his piece was said.

Killia took a moment, lowering his gaze before he could look up again. “I... I really wanted to kill Void, for what he did to you and Lieze, and then Christo getting all wrapped up in this. I wanted to make him pay, and take everything from him just like I felt he had from me. But... when I saw Usalia have to make that same decision, and be strong enough to choose not to throw her life away on revenge, I realised it’s because not everything has been taken away from us. Or we found something new at least, thanks to this new home. I... I want to have a future, to live the one that you and Lieze helped me believe I could have.”

Killia took a moment to glance briefly round at the two waiting for him some ways away, both of whom raised their heads slightly to see if he wanted anything from them.

“We turned Void into the police,” Killia continued back to the grave. “With the evidence Val recorded, he can’t hide from what he’s done anymore. Christo and I are going to have our names cleared. And without him the Lost has fallen apart. It’s... hard, letting him walk out of this alive even if he’s not free. But I’m going to focus on my own future instead, with the chance everyone has given to me; I owe it to you all.”

They both fell quiet, any more sentiments only spoken silently in their heads.

When Killia noticed Zeroken wobbling painfully as he shifted to get up, he helped the other boy back to his feet. He found Christo at his side, ready to help them both, and Seraphina a more awkward few steps away.

Zeroken let his weight rest onto Christo’s proffered arm, taking it off his injured leg entirely. “I’m so damn tired of hurting my ankles!”

“At least it was the other one this time.” Christo chuckled. “Artina said you would have ended up permanently damaged if it’d been in the same ankle for a third time in a row.”

“We shouldn’t have to get into any more fights for a while now, Zeroken,” Killia also consoled. “Just try not to fall down the stairs or anything, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved it off, knowing it was totally within his capabilities though. “Are you going to visit Lieze’s grave now, bro?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.” Christo helped Zeroken hobble away back to the nearest bench for some rest.

Seraphina lingered though, enough that Killia raised an eyebrow, but when she gave no response he moved along, stepping away to the other, slightly smaller grave nearby. She watched over him as he knelt there now, frowning to hear the wistful pain in the deep breath he took looking at Lieze’s name on a gravestone.

When he could bring himself to begin speaking, “Lieze... I’m sorry I couldn’t visit you until now,” Killia started haltingly, obviously pacing his breathing to avoid the embarrassment of crying. “I’ve missed you so much... every single day, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you...”

Seraphina huffed to herself, scowling off bitterly at a nearby cluster of graves. Her folded arms kept her jacket tight around her as she waited for him.

“You were right, that there are a lot of good people out there if I give them a chance,” he continued. “I’ve met so many where I’m living now; I... I wish you could have met them too, my new friends like Zeroken and Seraphina.”

Startling against her will, Seraphina’s head raised a little to turn back with softening features.

“I’m so sorry about what happened, and that I took so long to sort Void out. I nearly lost myself in trying to get revenge for the two of you, nearly threw away everything you gave me. But I have people I want to protect now, and something I want to do – I... I think I want to become a chef. I want to be able to make food that will soften people’s hearts, just like you did for me.”

She couldn’t help but bite her bottom lip, even though in this sort of late February tepidness it could easily spell a beauty disaster if it caused them to chap.

“I wish I could have brought you some flowers, since you always loved the ones in your garden so much,” he mentioned. “It would be nice, if you could still watch them growing here. But I know you always told me not to pick flowers and kill them so...” Killia had to turn away for a moment, face held tense with his regret.

“...H-Here.”

He looked up, meeting Seraphina’s arm held out down towards him with an artificial flower lying in it, the one that had previously been in her hair today. “What is this for?”

“You... It’d make Lieze happy to have a flower, right? One that hasn’t been picked,” she explained. “This thing’s kind of old anyway, and it was never really my style in the first place, so...” She twirled and stretched the piece of hair that losing it had loosened for something to do with all the awkwardness inside of her.

Killia studied her a bit longer, before accepting the flower for Lieze. “Thanks.” Carefully, he fitted its elasticated band over a petal of the stone flower adorning the gravestone. “Here. Take good care of this.”

She pulled back a couple of diffident steps, still lingering behind him though.

It meant she couldn’t escape when he turned back around to ask, “Why are you doing this for Lieze? You didn’t even know her.”

“No, but...” Seraphina continued to fiddle with her hair, pouting slightly. “Sh-She means a lot to you, Killia. And she’s the reason why you’re... the kind of person who would protect someone like me, even though I’d never done anything to deserve it.” Since she was still fiddling away, and he wasn’t saying anything else to fill this rudely awkward silence, “And I... I’m jealous, of her,” Seraphina muttered out quietly.

“Jealous? Of...” He seemed to realise, from the way he fell quiet too. “Oh.”

“But I know she’s important to you so...” she continued rambling on, before he could say anything like-

“You’re important to me too, Seraphina.” She blushed in an instant, very clearly. “I wouldn’t still be standing here if you hadn’t been there to protect me during our fight with the Undead.”

“W-Well, I don’t want to see you hurt,” she insisted hotly, to cover her own embarrassment. “And I said I’d prove I can fight too, that I can look after myself, so you...”

“You don’t have to prove anything to me, Seraphina,” Killia said, standing back up like her. “I never want to see you hurt in any way either.”

“...Oh.”

Neither could find more words for the bashful silence. Seraphina allowed him the time to say a few more silent, private thoughts, before finding him at her side when he was ready to walk away finally.

“I... I still need some time, to grieve for Lieze, Seraphina,” Killia broached as they walked forth together. “But if you don’t mind waiting, maybe we can see if...”

She smiled, and she blushed, but turned aside to hide both such gauche reactions from him. “Of course I don’t mind waiting for my Killia...”

Everyone was ready when they got back to the group, waiting on benches dappling in and out of tiny patches of sunlight as the clouds slowly swept forwards above. Usalia was still rubbing at the dried traces of tears on her face, but assured everyone she was ready to get going.

“Hey, Usalia, Zeroken,” Killia began as he stood holding the gate open for the group to pass through, “I was thinking, maybe we could come here together every month or two, when we want to visit them. If we’re together, then despite the people we’ve lost we’ll know we’re not alone.”

“Yeah!” Zeroken agreed enthusiastically to the suggestion, before thinking to turn more importantly to Usalia. “Yeah?”

She sniffled again once, but then nodded. “I... I’d like that, plip.”

She took each of their hands they held out for her, as together the group headed to their home.

~DOOD~

“It’s curry time, everyone!” Christo called, holding the door for Killia and Valvatorez handling the large pots between them, Pleinair following with plates and Usalia with the cutlery.

“Finally!” Laharl and Etna downed tools into the soil of the planters immediately, racing to get to the large outdoor table first, scattering their gloves onto the floor on the way.

“We’re nearly done!” Rutile called from where she and Artina were actually bothering to finish planting the new carrot seeds properly.

Zeroken shuffled about where he sat, ankle propped up carefully, trying to make himself useful helping Seraphina refill the drinks. “I’m so starving! Was there enough leftover to make any carrot cake in the end?”

“No, it took us a few attempts to get the recipe right,” Killia answered, “so with the carrots as small as they were we ended up using them all up.”

“What kind of a party only serves curry?” Laharl complained, but shoved his way to be first in line for a plate anyway.

“This one does,” Valvatorez took the helm of the situation, organising himself to be the one plating up, “considering this is a very special curry, after all.”

“I really hope he hasn’t added sardines to it,” Etna muttered, though quietly enough not to give Valvatorez any ideas he could possibly overhear.

As plates went out, stacked with rice by Killia and then curry by Valvatorez, it would have been more meaningful had they all waited and begun together but since some hungry, rude mouths couldn’t wait, “All right, everyone,” Valvatorez finally said when all the plates had been served, regardless of the few already with some bites taken out of them, “it is time to enjoy the fruits of our labours-”

“I thought carrots were vegetables, bro?” Zeroken obliviously interjected.

“-and partake in this special curry recipe Usalia has shared with us all!”

Everyone dug in quick, since on a fresh, pre-Spring afternoon like this the food wasn’t exactly going to stay hot long outside, even if it was now light jacket weather.

As everyone took their turn to comment on the sweet, carrot-based curry – Positively or just ambiguously uncertain about its unique taste – and other chatter started up, Christo’s broken glasses slipping down his nose setting off uncontrollable laughter from Zeroken – “I’m sorry! His eyes look like threes without them!” – Usalia turned to Killia beside her, paused in her eating.

He paused too, “It tastes right, doesn’t it?” raising an eyebrow.

“O-Oh yes, plip!” she was quick to reassure. “It tastes just like... It tastes just like when my parents used to make it, plip.” That was where she fell back into that hesitance again, although this time she managed to say, “I... I really can’t thank you enough, Killia, plip. For helping me work it out. This way I get to hold onto a bit more of parents for the rest of my life, plip.”

He smiled now, before shaking his head. “No, working this out for you was my thank you to you; because of what you did with Majorita, I was able to take a better path with Void than I would have done if I’d never met you. Because of that I get to stay here, and have a future. It’s what Goldion and Lieze would have wanted for me, I think.”

“It’s what I want for you too, plip,” she said, digging back into her curry now.

“What will that future be, Killia?” Valvatorez spoke up to ask, having been listening in respectfully.

Killia smiled slightly more now, a small but truly bright one on him. “I’m going to take Mr. Champloo’s Culinary School exam this summer. Even if I don’t get in this year, it’ll teach me what I need to work on so I can get in next year.”

Valvatorez nodded. “Go after your dream. I’ll leave it to you to look up what you’ll need to prepare, but let me know if you need any assistance with any part of it.”

“Thanks.”

“For example, I can furnish you with as many additional facts on the nutritional supremacy of sardines as you need!”

“I’m... good, thanks.”

Turning now to Christo, “I presume now your names are soon to be cleared, you have no obstacles standing before you anymore?” Valvatorez asked.

“My father said the paperwork is nearly finished being processed; I’ll be in the clear once that’s done.”

“I presume you’ll be leaving then?”

“Ah.” Christo actually realised it for the first time. “Yes. I suppose I don’t have any reason to stay here once my name is cleared. It seems rude to just up and leave, but...”

“You should be with your family,” Killia said.

“Yes, plip! If you have one, then you should spend every minute you can with them!” Usalia agreed.

He smiled, “Well, I’d say you’ve all come to feel rather like a family to me as well over these past two months,” but he did seem to agree, given he accepted the matter there.

“You’ll be able to talk to your boyfriend again now as well,” Killia added in a light tone, one that might well have been teasing from him. “It’s been weird, not having you on the phone to him constantly while we’ve been here.”

“I can’t help that he’s always calling me,” Christo huffed. “And he’s not my boyfriend!”

“Really? It always sounded like it, the way you two talked.”

Christo could only sigh. Hard.

Seraphina was busy giving him a slightly suspicious, perhaps slightly jealous, frown, but when the conversation lulled there, “If you won’t be sharing your room with Christo anymore, perhaps we could share now, Killia? T-To cut down on cleaning work, and such.”

“You want a roommate?” he replied in some surprise. “I always took you as the sort who enjoyed privacy.”

“Well, yes... but if it was you...”

“You wouldn’t mind sharing your privacy with Killia, hm?” Christo teasingly asked.

Her sweet blush dropped straight back into an unpleasant scowl in the simple act of turning to Christo. “How gauche, to even suggest such a thing!”

“What did I suggest?” Christo played back innocently. “Any suggestion of what you might use that privacy for didn’t come from me.”

She gaped in sheer offence, then buried herself within a shameful blush to hear Killia laugh.

“Christo,” he playfully scolded.

After he was done pushing up his broken glasses, “Well, you never did like the green colour of the room I picked for us. Why not free it up for someone who can appreciate its beauty properly?”

Though he chuckled at the dumb reason, “It would be weird to go back to living alone now. Okay, I’ll share with you if that’s what you want, Seraphina.”

“Excellent!” she declared. “We’ll get Zeroken to move your stuff in later!”

Once he’d finished choking on his curry, “I can barely move myself around right now, sis!”

“Well, both Killia and I are far too injured to do it ourselves.” She looked now to Christo next.

“Um,” Artina had to interject from down the table, if medical expertise counted for anything in this, “you didn’t actually suffer more than a few cuts and bruises, Seraphina.”

“I’m emotionally injured,” she declared resolutely.

“I-I’ll do it,” Rutile stepped in, so things could move on, “if you need someone to carry things.”

Taking up that chance to shift things along, “You’re turning 18 in May, right? Just after me,” Killia checked with his new roommate.

“Mm.”

“What are you going to do then? Are you staying here?”

“I... don’t know,” she admitted. “I was planning on leaving, but I have nowhere to stay. And father won’t be out of prison anytime soon. I have some savings, but since my father paid for most things for me I never thought about them; I suppose there might be enough for a small apartment or something...”

“What about career-wise?”

“A job?” She baulked at the very idea, although when it was one proposed by Killia and that he seemed to hold such respect for, “I’ve never considered that either. I wouldn’t know what I can do.” Eager not to disappoint though, “Wh-What do you think I would be good at, Killia?”

While Christo murmured something into Zeroken’s ear that made them both laugh, “Hmm...” Killia was actually considering it seriously for her, a sight that couldn’t help making Seraphina straighten up a little while waiting keenly on him. “You seem like... I don’t know, I could imagine you working in one of those custom jeweller’s shops or something.”

“Working in a shop seems so common... but if it was that kind of shop... You could see me doing something like that?”

“Yeah, it’s more skilled than just a standard shop, but it requires a lot of people skills too. And you just seem like the type of person who suits that kind of environment, being so fashionable and conventionally attractive.”

“Y-You think I’m...!” She coughed politely, attempting to put the blame for her hot cheeks on the curry she hadn’t touched in minutes. “I think so too! I’ll do it!”

“She just decided her whole career path to impress Killia,” Christo mused to Zeroken.

He chuckled along. “Yeah. But if it makes her happy...”

Seconds of the curry soon ran out, all they had for now. But with a newly written recipe pinned up on the noticeboard of the kitchen, and planters full of fresh-planted carrot seeds, it wouldn’t be all that long to wait for more.

As empty plates and stained cutlery were carried back in over the damp stains of former puddles, the yard left clear and fresh once again- “Oh, Mr. Instructor, I have something really exciting to tell you!”

Valvatorez hung back from following, “Yes?” setting his plate down on the table edge to talk.

Artina’s hands clasped up in joy to her chest, “I had a phone call yesterday from the council! They want to fund my food bank idea with a new charitable donations initiative!” she revealed.

“That’s... That’s wonderful, Artina!” He genuinely smiled for her.

But she noticed the slight awkwardness about it, “...Mr. Street Tyrant,” suspecting that perhaps, “...did you have anything to do with this?”

“M-Me?”

Yeah, he could not play innocent well at all. “You managed to convince the local warden into approving of this group home with remarkable ease, and the Mayor into funding it,” she said in a tougher tone he wasn’t going to wheedle around. “You have connections in the council, don’t you?”

“Ah... well...”

Artina stared him down, although he had already crumbled into a blushing sheepishness that said it all. That, for her, he had... “Mr. Instructor...”

“I-I know you said, should I be able to come by any more sources of income they ought to go to the children here, but in this case the council wouldn’t approve an increase on our existing funding so-!”

“Thank you,” Artina saved him from himself, smiling now. “You’ve done something else wonderful for everyone abandoned to fend for themselves on these streets; they may have called you a ‘Street Tyrant’, but these Netherworld streets would be a lot better off if you really were the one running them.”

“No, I-I...” Valvatorez rubbed through the back of his hair awkwardly, unable to look at her. “It was only because you wanted to...”

“Hm?”

“It was for you, Artina,” he bashfully made clear. “Although I do care about those suffering on these streets who need the provision of sustenance, it was... to make you happy...”

“...Me?” Artina understood, and her smile truly deepened. “You’re such a good friend to me, Mr. Tyrant. Thank you.”

He swallowed, and as he watched the glint of the gold ribbons adorning her hair, “Ah, well... actually, I...” Valvatorez coughed into his fist, willing his burning blush to calm so he could seem less of an embarrassed fool admitting, “I actually... wouldn’t mind...”

He then made the mistake of meeting her pure, curious eyes though.

After a moment of stammered baulking, “It-! That is-! I know we missed Valen...” His head whipped aside, pale cheeks too flushed. “N-Never mind! Never mind!”

Artina really had to cock her head over onto one side. “Are you okay, Mr. Weirdo?”

“Fine! I-I’m fine!” he insisted, pulling his coat closer around him and reaching for his plate to take in with shaking hands. “No doubt the children are getting up to all sorts without me- Simply a little cold, that’s all!”

If his over-abundance of excuses was strange, even for him, Artina decided to let it slide today. After all, “It is still a little cold out here,” looking up at the sky, “But Spring is just around the corner now, Mr. Instructor. The long winter’s over.”

Valvatorez looked up too, caught by surprise and a sudden shaft of sunlight finding its small way through the passing clouds. “It is...” He smiled, sneaking a glance at her before turning back to the clearing sky again. “I’m sure a lot more fun and new faces are on their way with it.”

Chapter Text

“You really don’t need to help with this,” Killia said, again, watching Christo stacking up the bathroom’s towels and flannels to take down to the communal laundry bin anyway.

“I helped make half this work,” Christo defended, again. “And besides, I’m sure you’ll get plenty of chance to do all the cleaning you want with your new roommate.”

Killia chuckled briefly, wiping the last wall of the bathtub down, “Seraphina is learning, even if she still doesn’t like doing chores,” tossing the cloth over to Christo.

It was caught with symbiotic ease on the top of the pile he carried. “Well, it was your choice to move in with her,” he teased once more. “My father’s offer to come live with Flonne and I still stands any time.”

“Thanks. But I think this place is where I was meant to be, with the people who need me and that I never knew I needed to meet.” He collected up the cleaning supplies, all ready to go.

Christo laughed one last time. “You can be surprisingly poetic at times, you know.”

Supplies were deposited, towels were dropped off. And then, waiting in the front hall, a packed bag was picked up and a coat was donned.

Christo stood, looking backwards down the empty hallway that had been the first sight he had seen of these past two and a bit months of his life. Just over two months of communal hardship, affectionate bickerings and homely chaos. “It’s been... I can see why you would want to stay here, Killia,” he said, the smile on his face warm.

“Yeah. This is my family now.”

Christo nodded. “My family is still yours as well, if you ever need us.”

“Thanks. I’m...” he hesitated on actually saying it, but, “I’m glad you were here with me, Christo. Even if I still wish you hadn’t been dragged into all this-”

“I’m glad I was here with you too, Killia,” Christo settled on, for both of them. “But I can’t say I’m not looking forward to going home too,” he added more lightly, before the mood could get too difficult to break from.

“I bet.”

Cries and shouts of play filled the air as the front door opened, Christo stepping out with what few possessions he’d bothered with here packed into the bag on his back. His emergence was soon noticed, Valvatorez’s shout going out over the yard for everyone to gather.

Flonne was already waiting at the open gate, squealing away, “It’s kind of old now, but Robotics;Notes is so good! It’s about a high school club who love mecha robots and they’re actually building a real one! If they can do it, then maybe we could too! If I can convince Artina to do another fundraising drive with me-!”

“God, I really need a friend who I can just eat sweets and gossip about boys with...” Etna groaned, settling back against the chain-link fence.

“‘Boys’?!” Flonne repeated in appalment. “Aren’t you happy with me, Etna?”

“Not like that,” Etna snorted, reassuring her girlfriend. “I meant talking about hot fictional guys, and how annoying the gross ones I have to live are.”

“Oh phew. Because, I mean, I’m willing to try anything for love and you, Etna. But I don’t even know where we’d get-”

“Uh, Flonne.” Etna pointed in the more important direction of Christo, who was ready and waiting to go.

“Huh? Oh!” She awkwardly spun around, waving at her cousin. “Your father’s just finding somewhere to park. You should take as long as you need to say your goodbyes though – The friends you’ve made here have changed you forever, even in such a short time together! You have to honour the precious memories you’ve made together, ready for the day when you’re super old and look back at this fleeting time of your youth with a tear in your eye!”  

“Thank you for reminding me about my unavoidable ageing towards death, Flonne,” Christo joked good-naturedly. “But you’re right.” Everyone had now assembled nearby ready for the goodbye, although the game of dodgeball hadn’t quite stopped as the basketball in play bounced hard off Zeroken’s head all the way over with perverse homing instinct into Christo’s glasses to follow. An unathletic fumbling by him was spared by Killia’s far defter hands moving in to catch it easily, shaking his head with a smile at Laharl who was demanding it back. “Well,” Christo sighed lightly as he readjusted his only recently fixed glasses, “while there are certain aspects of life here I won’t miss, I will miss all of you. You’ve all made me feel incredibly welcome here even for such a short stay, and I’ll certainly never forget this time together.”

Valvatorez nodded. “There will always be a home and second family here for you, Christo. Come back any time.” And then, with a dramatic flourish of his coat, “Congratulations, to our very first graduate! Now go forth, and spread your prinny wings!”

“Um, but penguins have flippers...” Rutile thought someone should maybe point out.

“Whatever,” Laharl shrugged. “We got a good party with cake out of it last night.”

The kinder kids began clustering up for hugs goodbye, those too cool for that sort of thing allowed to stay back and awkwardly mutter a quiet, “See ya,” or the like.

Seraphina was the last to step up, placing her hands on her hips as she stood herself before him. Christo raised an eyebrow, and smiled at her. “You’ve been... well, rude,” she declared. “But... it’s still been good to have you here.”

“Thank you, Seraphina,” he accepted magnanimously.

“I know Killia will be sad to see you go,” she continued. “So, I suppose for his sake...”

“Truce?” Christo offered, along with his hand. She eyed it for a moment, before simply nodding. “Look after Killia for me.”

She startled a little, and looking at the other boy in question made her blush slightly, but a very small nod signalled that was very much something she would like to do.

In that case, lifting his bag back onto his shoulder, Christo turned towards the open gate-

“Is that all you’re going to say?!” Flonne cried. “Don’t you want to cry, or have a big group hug, or hug the building goodbye?!”

“I think I’m good on those fronts, Flonne,” he chuckled. “I had a goodbye party last night to say farewell to everyone.”

“Well... okay,” she supposed, though obvious disappointment couldn’t be hidden. “I guess if you’re ready to go, Christo- Oh, you don’t have to go by that name anymore now, do you? I’ve gotten so used to calling you that!”

He laughed, pushing up his glasses on instinct. “I’ve gotten used to being called it, to be honest. I might keep going by it.”

With those left behind moving to cluster around the gate as Christo and Flonne walked out onto the streets beyond, Christo couldn’t help but smile at the sight of all those extra ‘eyes’ watching him from the prinny hats, casting one last look up to where his now sat back in Valvatorez’s room, ready to await its next owner.

He turned to set out on his own path though, walking away with Flonne flitting cheerfully around him and a new life awaiting him uptown.

Killia was the last to come back inside, only moving from the gate when the distant sight of the car finally disappeared out of sight. Bringing in the recently delivered post with him, most was handed to Valvatorez but he didn’t have the will to stop Laharl snatching the local free newspaper, watching him sit to scowl his way through it. “Anything big?”

“No! These fools haven’t written anything about my overthrow of the Lost!”

“‘Your’ overthrow?” Etna picked on.

“All of you are my vassals, so you were fighting in my name,” he insisted, flipping through more pages before pulling a grimace. “Ugh, that bastard Carter’s in here.”

“What for?” she leant in too, pressing down an advert for a multi-purpose super robot with a free branch lopper and knife set so she could see. “He fostered another kid? Jeez, I feel sorry for those kids. What does he even want with them?”

“Who cares?” Laharl declared, tossing the whole newspaper onto one of the main room tables where it landed with the front page face up.

The lead story, ‘Domestic Explosion Kills Two’, carried a photograph of a family home now ruptured from below up through nearly half the house, charred rubble standing in stark contrast to the surviving rooms of a once happy and normal life.

~DOOD~

“We seriously have to stay here?” Fuka complained, staring up at the group home before them, rain falling onto her unguarded lashes. “Well, whatever. I guess it’s only for a few days until Dad comes to pick us up.”

Though he had been concerned with Desco’s complete lack of response to becoming unshielded from the rain while he locked the gate, now Valvatorez focused from under his umbrella on the older of the girls. “Lass... your father isn’t coming to pick you up,” he picked his way through slowly, almost made uncertain himself by the certainty she had spoken with. “He’s in pri-”

“Dad’s always doing this,” Fuka cut in over him. “He gets so caught up in his work he forgets to come home for days.” She walked away, strutting up to the front door without allowing the chance for a reply.

As Fuka let herself in, Valvatorez was left with the girl still hunched over her 3DS, using her own raincoat-covered head to shield it from the rain. “Desco?” No recognition at all. “We should move inside now.” Again, the girl didn’t even react.

A guiding hand placed on her shoulder eventually allowed him to simply steer her in with all the sentience and unwieldiness of a two-legged shopping trolley. She stood just as still once left to one side in the entrance hallway, despite her sister’s loud cry of, “My house didn’t blow up!”

“It was in the newspaper!” Laharl yelled back.

“And on the news,” Seraphina insisted.

“No! It! Wasn’t!” Fuka stamped her foot with each word. “Jeez, everyone in this city seems to have had the same weird dream – You all must have seen something on the TV or in the paper that’s caused this.”

“Uh, yeah,” Etna agreed, “like a news report that your house exploded and killed half your family?”

“I’d know if my house exploded and my family died!” Fuka shouted. “And I’m telling you, that didn’t happen!”

“But, plip, it said your mother and sister-!”

“ENOUGH!”

Every kid dropped instantly silent at the roar that came from the Street Tyrant, a fright displayed on most of their faces they had thought they could never feel towards their harmlessly idiotic instructor. Even Desco’s hands paused on her buttons, although she didn’t actually look up.

“Everyone,” Valvatorez spoke to the assembled throng of residents staring on, “this is Fuka and Desco Kazamatsuri.” He indicated the relevant girls. “I need to settle them into their rooms now, so return to your business.” A flicking of his hand ushered them towards the main room, but his serious frown made it an unspoken command.

With some eager to escape, and some reluctant to leave the argument without winning it, eventually the whole group was persuaded to go. Fuka welcomed it with a tut, turning to Valvatorez. “So where are our rooms then?”

“Upstairs.” He led the way, “And although we do still have two rooms spare, I think it would be best if you and Desco were to share a room. I’m sure you would prefer that, should we have any more new arrivals, rather than having to share with a stranger.”

“Share with Desco?” Fuka objected instinctively, before sounding as if she was chewing the idea over. When he looked back at her ascending the stairs, Fuka was considering her younger sister having to be pulled up the stairs by hand, somehow navigating them without taking her eyes off the 3DS. “Well... I guess that’s okay, since it’s only going to be for a short while. I wouldn’t want her to get scared all alone.”

Valvatorez nodded, showing them their choice of the one remaining plain room and that unique, green room, the only one painted for some reason on a floor of seven identical ones. In the end, the poor, green-painted room was cursed with rejection once again.

When he returned with two sets of prinny clothes folded over one arm, Fuka was already sorting through the bag they had brought with them, placing clothes too small for her into the dresser on the side of the room Desco appeared to have chosen. Fuka’s own dresser looked untouched though. “Did you not bring any clothes of your own, Fuka?”

She startled a little, and froze, before haltingly justifying her way though, “...Mum must have just forgotten to pack them! You know, when she packed this stuff, for me and Desco to come stay here.”

Valvatorez frowned as he considered her, quickly re-engrossed in her sorting of Desco’s clothes. “...I’ll contact a friend of mine to bring some clothes from her clinic until we have a more permanent solution. I’m afraid our budget can’t stretch to providing you with your own clothes just yet after all the sudden arrivals we’ve had here this past half a year.” He sorted out the two sets he was carrying into their separate sizes. “I do have these for the two of you, however; all residents here receive them to show they’re a part of our family.”

Hands on her hips, “We’re not gonna be a part of this family, as we’ve already still got a family, okay?” Fuka insisted. “We’re only going to be here, like, a few days tops.”

After another brief pause, “...Well, even if it’s only for a few days they are still yours while you reside here,” Valvatorez decided. “All our residents are ultimately temporary, after all. And if all you possess is what you have on you...”

They both looked at her plain school uniform of a sailor shirt and short skirt. “...Okay, fine. But just because it’s kinda cold today,” Fuka said as she accepted her prinny clothes, pulling on the jacket then eyeing up the  hat. “Seriously? You couldn’t find anything dumber looking?”

Ignoring her, Valvatorez ended up placing Desco’s prinny hat onto her head for her, since she wouldn’t even attend long enough to look at it. Holding even the smallest size of jacket up, he frowned though. “This is still too large for a girl your age; it’s just barely suitable for Usalia, after all, and she’s two years older than you.” The entire discussion about her passed Desco by as well, and she didn’t even glance as the jacket was laid on the end of her bed. “Well, you’re still welcome to it as a blanket or the like if you need the extra warmth.”

Fuka was staring at him, and he waited patiently for her to speak her mind. When it grew uncomfortable though, as if he might be the one to say something first, “That’s the bathroom, right?” Fuka pointed to their en suite. “I gotta go, so...” She disappeared away quickly, before he could say anything more.

Valvatorez was left looking at a closed door, and at Desco still sat consumed in her 3DS on her bed. Sighing, and crossing his arms to place one hand over his face, he ended up striding from the room for now, heading back downstairs.

Every set of eyes was on him as he entered the main room, and he wasn’t surprised. “Everyone,” he supposed he needed to begin, “I know that our two newest arrivals are... a little unusual-”

“She’s mental!” Laharl chimed in gracelessly.

“The two of them have been through quite the traumatic experience,” Valvatorez insisted firmly as a correction to that. “And, quite honestly, I’m not sure how to handle them, or if I’m even equipped to. But I need to speak with Artina regarding finding some spare clothes for Fuka, so I’ll also seek her advice on dealing with... the two of them.”

Rutile raised a polite hand, speaking up, “F-Fuka can borrow some of my clothes, if we’re the same size.” Valvatorez nodded that was very kind of her to offer, and appreciated. “Are, um-? D-Did their house actually explode and kill their family or not? She said it didn’t, but the newspaper said...”

With a slight sigh, “It did, but they obviously don’t wish to speak about it, so let us all leave the subject for now until I’ve consulted with Artina for advice, all right?” Valvatorez declared, looking sternly around at particularly those most inclined to cause a problem about this. “The matter shouldn’t come up if they’re seeking to avoid it, so simply speak of other things with the two of them for the meanwhile.”

He was met with rather uncertain, conflicted faces, but all ones that he could trust ultimately wanted to help, even if their desired ways might be misguided. That was enough for now, until... whatever this was could be sorted out.

~DOOD~

The rather half-hearted class on weather systems came to a halt at Artina’s expected interruption, letting herself into the downstairs classroom and joining Valvatorez at the front of the room.

She handed the sheets of paper she held to him, “Physically, both Fuka and Desco are in fairly good health, just feeling the effects of struggling to eat and sleep well after the incident,” answering the unneeded question as to the results of her health examinations. “I left them looking through the goodwill clothing donations under my friend Alouette’s supervision at the Church of the Holy Maiden, and I gave Fuka some money to take Desco to go get cake at a nearby café if they’re finished before I get back.”

“You actually gave someone money?” Etna taunted. “Like, without expecting them to pay it back?”

Artina allowed the slight without even reacting right now, her forlorn graveness enough to make Etna bite her lip and sink back into her seat. With all the other children currently sat in classroom seats, their visitor turned to them with a rather weighty inhale. “I’m sure you’ve all noticed Fuka and Desco’s rather... unusual behaviour,” Artina began speaking to the class. “Mr. Instructor asked me to evaluate their mental health as part of my examination, and we thought it best to include all of you in discussing how best to support the two of them.”

Uncomfortable heads turned to look at one another, seeking anything that wasn’t this topic.

Valvatorez stood firm beside her though, nodding for Artina to proceed.

“Well, I should preface that I don’t have proper mental health training,” she began. “However, I do have considerable experience nonetheless, including a patient I grew rather close to while treating him, who suffered from psychotic delusions caused by a similarly traumatic level of experience.” She paused for a moment in thought, before returning to the present matter. “From that I can say with certainty that Fuka’s condition is not psychotic.”

“Wait, she’s not actually mentally ill?” Zeroken asked.

Artina shook her head. “Psychotic, medically, means to be suffering from a psychosis that warps one’s perception and understanding of reality. Fuka is perfectly aware of the reality of what happened to her and her family, but is maintaining a fiction that it didn’t happen through providing alternate explanations for things, like where her father is and why she is here.”

“So she’s lying?” Laharl asked.

“She’s... pretending,” Artina selected more carefully. “I need you all to understand that what the two of them went through was extremely traumatic, that anyone would struggle to cope with no matter their situation. When the human mind struggles to process something, such as a trauma, it turns to coping mechanisms to allow basic daily survival to continue. No one is to blame for whatever coping mechanisms their mind develops, it’s something a person has no choice in.”

“You say ‘daily survival’,” Valvatorez stepped in, “but I’ve continued to have great difficulty in getting Desco to eat or sleep and the various other necessities of life since her arrival here, even while Fuka has returned to a healthy routine.”

“The coping mechanisms of the mind are more often than not far from perfect, and can become actively dangerous like this,” she defended, before turning to the class. “When all of you get back from something unpleasant like a dentist appointment, you would prefer to put it out of your mind by playing games or watching TV, yes?”

Most heads nodded. Although, “I’ve never been to the dentist!” Zeroken cheerfully boasted.

“You’re going to the dentist as soon as I can book an appointment,” Valvatorez announced, causing the boy to wince.

Artina chuckled for a moment before growing earnest again. “What Desco is doing is simply an extreme version of that; Desco doesn’t want to acknowledge the existence of reality right now, to face what has happened to her and is continuing to happen to her by being taken away from her family and home to live in this strange place with people she doesn’t know. She wants to escape it all to somewhere she doesn’t have to think about these things, and she chooses to do so by playing video games. Even things like eating and sleeping require returning in at least some part to reality, and hence her emotional instincts are to shy away, even in spite of her physical needs.”

“How do I address it?” Valvatorez was most concerned to ask.

She sighed, although the question had obviously already been considered deeply. “It will take time, a lot of time I imagine, for Desco to fully process what has happened to her, and even that does not guarantee she will be willing to return to living her life entirely in reality. For the meanwhile, it’s going to be necessary to meet her halfway, to allow her to retreat to her safe space in video games as much as she needs. All I can suggest right now is to facilitate her in minimising the reality involved in attending to her basic health needs, allowing her to continue playing whilst eating or in bed until she falls asleep. It’s not ideal but...” She couldn’t raise more than the weakest smile at Valvatorez’s knitted frown. “Hopefully, with time and support, she will require her coping method less and less and will gradually reintegrate with reality. I think it would probably help a lot if Fuka were to accept it openly, since Desco is probably taking cues from her older sister.”

“All right. And her?”

His blunt simplicity made her shake her head, smiling sadly. “Neither of these girls have such simple solutions; any progress will likely take months to even begin to show, and years in full.”

“‘Years’?” Laharl picked on. “You mean we have to put up with her being crazy for that long?”

His terminology was a whole other issue the adults shared a look agreeing would be best to get into on another occasion. Focusing instead right now, “The news reports don’t capture the full horror of what happened to the two of them,” Artina explained. “We need you to understand what they went through – Fuka had just returned from school to go out to the park with her younger sisters and mother. She and Desco stepped out of the house first because Desco was slightly more excited to go, and it was literally only thirty seconds before they saw their home explode right in front of them while they were stood on the kerb outside. The place that had been their sanctuary their entire lives, two of their family members, everything that Fuka owned since her bedroom was caught in the blast, it was all destroyed right in front of them on a day they had expected to be a happy, normal day like any other.” She paused for a moment, trying to allow it time to sink into such young minds. “The only family they do have left was the one who accidentally caused it, and is now in prison. Eyewitnesses to the scene said Fuka told Desco to wait outside before Fuka ran into the house to try and save her family, and likely saw their bodily remains in whatever state a direct chemical explosion left them in.”

Some of the watching faces showed emotional realisation was starting to sink in. Others remained confused, uncertain, but intent to try nonetheless, on the verge of grasping something that was beyond what minds their age should have to.

“Had the explosion happened thirty seconds earlier, or had they left later, and the two of them would have died as well,” Artina urged to them all. “Had it happened thirty seconds later, or had they encouraged the other two to hurry up, their family wouldn’t have died in it.” She paused again, but for herself this time as she took a slightly shaky breath. “The two of them are only 15 and 6, but anyone of any age would struggle with this. So whatever coping methods their minds have turned to shouldn’t be faulted. Every human being struggles to process events and memories like this.”

She had no more to say, although the ensuing silence was so uncomfortable that more description of the trauma would have even been preferable. Many listening were looking to each other, hoping someone had anything to say so conversation could take their minds off having to sit and think about this, to move forward and perhaps find a way past this.

When it had grown so uncomfortable that anyone at all would have been welcome to speak about anything, “I... I keep thinking things like that about the day my parents died, plip,” Usalia was the first to meekly offer something. “Like what you said about if things had happened thirty seconds earlier or later... Even now I still keep thinking about things like that, plip.”

Artina nodded. “Yes, that’s totally natural, Usalia. Things like that, what happened to you or to Fuka and Desco, it’s extremely common to never stop wondering about the ‘what if’s that could have happened.”

“Why, plip?” She shuffled forward in her seat slightly, young legs still too short for her feet to reach the floor even then. “I don’t get it. I went to my parents’ graves, and I’m used to living here now instead – Doesn’t that stuff mean I’ve accepted it, plip?”

“Accepting what’s happened isn’t enough alone to stop those sorts of thoughts, I’m afraid,” she answered. “The reason your mind does this is to look for answers to stop it happening again; the human mind captures negative experiences in far more clarity and detail so it can dissect them, to look for the signs it missed to spot and avoid the bad thing happening again in the future. It works for things like the sound of an approaching tiger coming to eat you, but not for things as complicated and sudden as this.”

“How come people block out bad memories sometimes then, if your mind’s meant to try and learn from them?” Etna asked, edging around slightly in her seat.

“Recalling the memories to dissect doesn’t prevent how distressing that act is, so much so that sometimes a person can need to block out thoughts of it in order to be able to keep living day-to-day in their life. But that doesn’t stop the memories wanting to come back, and it prevents them being fully processed, so the person still stays trapped in them even then.”

“But I have all my memories of what happened, and I know what I did wrong, plip!” Usalia needed to insist. “Why am I still recalling it? Am I doing something wrong, plip?”

“It’s okay, Usalia,” Killia was the one to step in, leaning forward closer to her in the front row; “I still do the same with Lieze’s death, even though I know that wasn’t truly my fault. Nothing’s wrong with you. It still keeps happening even then with something as bad as this.” He looked up to Artina for confirmation.

She nodded. Then cocked her head, one considering finger to her chin. “I wonder... Killia and Usalia, you’re of course welcome to refuse, but could I perhaps use the two of you to teach a lesson on how to deal with traumatic memories at some point? A lot of you have been through one or more unpleasant experiences that would qualify, so it would be easy to justify as a group experience, and that way Fuka and Desco can learn the skills they need without feeling personally put on the spot.”

“Sure,” Killia nodded easily.

Usalia pushed her fingers together though, with a strained humming.

“You don’t have to, Usalia,” Artina assured her. “I think it would be helpful for them, even if they’re not ready to confront what happened to them just yet. In the meantime, you should all learn some best practices for dealing with delusions.” She encouraged them to get out paper and pens if they felt the need for notes, although ones that would have to be kept discreetly. “I learnt these to deal with the psychotic delusions of that patient I once treated closely, but some modified principles can apply here in Fuka’s case.”

She ran them through the most salient points, to not challenge or argue with the delusions if it risked losing far more important trust, to not ask questions or bring up anything related with the two sisters that would force them deeper into their coping methods, and in general to remain as passive as possible so as not to encourage it in any way. The two sisters needed time, and they needed a safe place where they felt free of judgement and able to open up to ask for help when finally ready.

“Will we be able to help them then?” Zeroken put up his hand at the end to ask.

“Oh...” Artina hesitated, turning to Valvatorez beside her who was also waiting on her answer. The reply she eventually found was, “I... hope so.”

~DOOD~

Valvatorez unlocked the gate for the returnees, stepping out to the astonishing sight of Desco sat on the pavement beside Artina’s car without any kind of games console in her hands, her eyes simply pressed shut instead as Fuka rubbed her shoulders.

Stepping over, and able to guess what he wanted to ask, “Desco got a little carsick playing a game with 3D graphics in the back of my car on the ride here,” Artina answered. “Luckily Fuka noticed and turned down the 3D before it got too bad, but she still needs a minute.”

“Desco’s confused, Big Sis...” the girl in question down on the ground moaned, head lolling back and thumping against the bone of Fuka’s kneecap. “She hurt herself in confusion...”

“You hurt me too, ow!”

“Fuka,” Artina called to her, “Mr. Instructor and I will take your clothes in while you stay with Desco, all right?” She led him to the open back door of the hot pink buggy, handing him one of the two plastic bags crammed rather messily with a bright assortment of clothes. Bulky, but not what could truly be considered heavy, they made their cautious way towards the front door with the occasional glance around their large load at where they were placing their feet. “Between Sister Alouette and I we were also able to source Fuka some underwear, so she won’t need to borrow any of Rutile’s again.”

“Ah, good.” He paused to check she had made it safely through the slightly tight front door with her bag, before leading the way up the stairs. “Am I correct that the two of them should be in therapy ideally? Not that they will even consider going, of course.”

“Yes...” Artina agreed. “It’s deeply unfortunate their coping methods are what they are, and such an obstacle to actually being able to help them. They haven’t yet built the trust in anyone here that we could reach out to them through, and even if he were available I don’t know how much trust they have left in their father after he accidentally caused all this. They’re both far too young to have the responsibility of looking after one another put on their shoulders too.”

Valvatorez sighed, setting his bag on Fuka’s bed, and even together with the one Artina placed alongside it did very little to dress up the emptiness of her side of the room. “Thank you for all of your assistance with the sisters,” he did want to say to Artina; “they have been the most challenging of my charges thus far, and I remain feeling significantly out of my depth in regards to their psychological issues.”

“That’s okay, Mr. Instructor. I only want the best for them as well, although this is beyond my experience level to properly address.” She looked around the girls’ room, seeing nothing to comment on or assist with, and thus, “If that’s all, I need to be getting back to my clinic now for my in-patients.”

“Of course. Thank you again.”

Even as she left, he remained, staring down at those two bags of charity clothes Fuka had to call her possessions now.

It was only Fuka and Desco coming into the room that snapped him from his thoughts, Desco already glued back to her 3DS as Fuka started pulling open her dresser drawers. “I better get all this put away so- Oh wait, maybe we should wash them first?”

“I imagine they were laundered upon donation,” he said, “but it depends if you would feel more comfortable giving them another wash now before garbing yourself in them.”

“Mmm...” Fuka frowned. “Yeah, okay. I don’t want to find anything gross in them when I put ‘em on.”

“I’ll assist you in carrying them down.”

After a little sorting of the likely-runners from the safe-washers, Valvatorez once again carried the unwieldy stack of clothes while Fuka bounced downstairs ahead of him, humming her way through loading up one of the utility room washing machines with powder and conditioner. “...So, that nurse lady.”

“Are you referring to Artina?”

“Yeah. Is she, like, your girlfriend then?”

He stammered and choked, straightening up quick enough to nearly clothesline himself in the face with a literal clothesline. “N-No, she is most certainly not!”

Fuka assessed his reaction very calmly. “But you’re into her, right?”

“I-I...!” Valvatorez focused on getting the laundry turned on, only to find Fuka had already started the machine minutes ago. “...I am here to take care of your needs, lass. My personal matters need be none of your concern.”

“So you do, but you haven’t got the guts to tell her?” Fuka sussed.

Sighing as his hands rested atop the machine quivering to life, “It remains none of your concern... but it simply wasn’t the right time to broach the matter between us, the last social conversation we had.”

“Ooh, so you were gonna ask her out? But, what, ya chickened out? What kinda example is that to set for us?!”

That took Valvatorez aback a step, and such an accusation was one that deserved considering. “I suppose... One should always act upon any opportunity that might later become a regret – Nothing ventured, nothing gained, and all that.”

“Yeah, exactly!” Fuka put a hand on one cocked hip, giving the topic very intent thought. “So... you need a better chance to ask, huh? I guess adults always are super busy with stuff.”

“Yes, Artina is presently very busy setting in motion the inauguration of her food bank initiative she’s been working on for some time,” he said. “I certainly couldn’t disrupt something that means so much to her, especially since I went to such efforts to secure the funding for it.”

The self-appointed master of love chewed upon her slightly chapped lip, before inspiration struck and a finger was dramatically pointed. “If you helped her start this whole thing, after it gets going you can totally ask her to go out with you to celebrate that! Take her to dinner or whatever! It’s perfect!”

In theory, perhaps. But in reality, “Lass, I can’t leave all of you alone here for an evening, and Artina can’t leave her patients. And that’s setting aside the fact neither of us actually has the money to afford even a single restaurant meal together.”

“The hell?!” Fuka fumed, puffing out her cheeks. “Well, what can you do with her?”

“I suppose I could invite Artina to one of our occasions here...” Valvatorez mused rather non-committally.

“Fine, do that then,” she seized upon though. “And I’ll help get you two some alone time so you can confess, okay?”

His face knitted, and he tried to find a voiceable objection she would take, but it was seemingly easier simply to say, “...Fine, lass. I’ll see what opportunity arises.”

“All right!” Fuka jumped, punching the air. “Jeez, you’re lucky Desco and I ended up here; you’d be hopeless without us.”

Sometimes it was easier simply to let the steamroller run over you and be done, Valvatorez was starting to think.

~DOOD~

“Desco, you gotta eat!” Fuka insisted again, voice dragging out wearily. But it was only met with a silent reply of further button pressing. “Come on Desco, you didn’t eat any lunch, and you only ate a banana and one of my chocolate bars for breakfast!”

“...Desco needs to beat the boss, Big Sis,” the little hermit tucked up in the corner of the sofa tight around her Switch finally responded, just as wearily as her sister but with physical feebleness in this case.

“No, you need to eat!” Exasperated, this time Fuka made a grab for the Switch, getting her hands clumsily around it. “Come on!”

“Noooo!”

The scrabbling fight that broke out caught most of the main room’s awkward attention, the two sisters both whining and jerking over the back edge of the smaller sofa.

Fuka was the one who won, pulling the now rather smudged Switch up and free of Desco’s smaller hands. Those hands kept reaching for it though, quivering and flailing, “Bi-ig Sis! Big Sis-s!” her breathing spasming just as badly as her desperate body to be separated from her salvation.

And Fuka hesitated, facing a Desco so clearly choking up with tears. “You’re shaking you need to eat so bad, Desco,” she tried more gently. “It’s no wonder you can’t beat the boss.”

Desco only continue to grasp and mewl, too painfully like a baby with no other recourse or idea how to get back the only comfort in her life.

Fuka tried to hold out, but her bitten lip foretold her sigh, which foretold her handing the Switch back. “You can keep playing, but you have to eat something, Desco. Okay?”

Desco curled straight back up in her former position, back to Fuka behind the sofa, and all attention sinking back into the game.

“Desco?”

But Desco only whined, in response to the ‘Game Over’ music being once again played.

And Fuka flopped limply where she stood in turn from that, “Desco...” staring down miserably to the floor.

Neither moved from the positions they appeared stuck in, the boss battle music resuming once again.

But a new weight bouncing into the sofa cushions beside Desco got Fuka to look up, registering that silver ponytail beneath the prinny hat. “Struggling a bit, huh?” Zeroken asked, peering over Desco’s shoulder enough to see the screen. “Ooh, he’s a tough one. You gotta boost your INT if you wanna have the best shot at him.”

“Desco knows...” she did actually reply, though distractedly. “She equipped INT- and RES-boosting equips before the save point.”

“No, no! I mean you gotta up your INT in real life – You count too!”

Desco paused, considering through the sounds of her team getting a heavy slapping from the boss on his turn. “Desco doesn’t have any INT-boosting equips though.”

“Equips aren’t the only way to boost your stats,” Zeroken continued easily. “You can eat stuff you cook to get temporary buffs as well.”

“You can’t cook in this game.”

“No, but you can always cook in real life – Didn’t you know food buffs work here?”

The boss battle music continued, but just in this brief moment Desco wasn’t playing over it. “...Desco didn’t know that.”

“Oh yeah, like ice cream boosts your SPD, and chicken nuggets boost your ATK!”

“What boosts your INT?”

“Uhh...” Zeroken thought, and it was so very patently obvious, even more so than before, that he was utterly bullshitting on the spot. “Stuff like... nuts! Or fish! Y’know, oily stuff. And green veggies boost your RES!”

“Bleh, Desco’s LP go down if you give her that stuff.” She went back to gaming away, a little half-heartedly though without her full attention.

“You don’t have to like it for it to work. And it still works if you bury it in something better-tasting, like tomato sauce. You like tomato sauce, right? Like the nice stuff you get on baked beans and spaghetti hoops?”

“Desco gets a small LP boost from that.”

“All right, hang tight!” Zeroken tore from his seat and the room, passing Valvatorez who had been lingering in the kitchen doorway and was now dragged in there by the lad. “Val, can you make that, like, sardine pasta bake thing you do, bro? I think there’s a good chance we can get Desco to eat it if we make it with something decent like spaghetti hoops.”

“All right. It certainly sounds worth a shot,” he agreed, rolling up his coat sleeves to go wash his hands. “Get me one of those small tins of spaghetti hoops and a couple of vegetables, carrots and sugarsnaps for instance. I’ll handle the sardines and sauce.”

“Right!”

They set to quick work, Zeroken soon being swatted away though before he did his usual kitchen antics of more harm than good. He moved to wait beside Fuka, who stood equally awkward in uselessness watching on as Valvatorez threw everything together rather simply in a basic oven dish, baking the whole lot only long enough to soften and heat it through.

The kids had gone back to wait beside Desco as he plated up, bringing through quite a sizable portion for a child of her age with a simple fork embedded in the heap. “Desco? I’ve prepared something to help boost your...”

“It’s got sardines to boost your INT,” Zeroken jumped in for him, “plus a few veggies to boost your RES and pasta to boost your stamina since it’s a long fight. And it won’t taste bad, promise!”

Desco perked up slightly, fingers pausing. And then she actually looked away from her Switch at the plate being held out to her, little teeth obviously chewing back and forth on the inside of her bottom lip in hunger at the sight of the steaming plate of food. “That’ll... It’ll help boost Desco’s stats.”

“Yeah! Then I’m sure you can beat that boss,” Zeroken cheered, crossing both sets of fingers with a grimace of hope this was actually going to work.

Desco continued to stare, “...Okay,” then laid her Switch down on the sofa arm, taking up the plate and fork instead. She shovelled the food in ravenously, barely chewing enough to swallow, with occasional noises of discomfort to confirm she was shoving too much down her throat at once, and her attention remained on the Switch screen beside her the whole time...

But she ate. “She ate a whole plate of food for the first time since we came here...” Fuka mumbled quietly enough to keep it from her sister, watching as Desco practically dropped the finished plate on the sofa beside her to snatch up her Switch again.

She curled right back up into the sofa corner with the Switch a definitely unsafe distance right next to her face, as Valvatorez took the plate to wash up, Fuka and Zeroken watching over the sofa back. Their hands were gripping tight on its rather squashed padding, clenching each time the HP of one of Desco’s party members dropped low.

But finally, after 15 minutes of constant re-healing and two unconscious party members, “Yes! Desco did it, Big Sis!” Desco shoved the screen with the victory jingle backwards, nearly into Fuka’s actual face. “Desco beat the boss!”

“You see?” Fuka said, pushing the console out of her face. “This is why you gotta eat, okay?”

“Yes! Desco will make sure to boost her stats before future boss fights, Big Sis!”

“Not just before boss fights!” Fuka lamented, before pulling out of her arse, “Why not, like, be boosted all the time? You know, in case some sudden enemies just out at you? Or there’s a sudden boss fight?”

Desco stared on with her mouth in a little O of thought. “...Big Sis’s right! Desco should eat all the time!”

“Just meals and snacks will be enough.”

“Yeah, there’s no point overriding one stat boost with another until it’s worn off,” Zeroken backed her up. “I’ll write out a list of all the food stat boost secrets I know about, so just tell your sis what you wanna boost each time your last one wears off and you get hungry, okay?”

“Okay!” Desco agreed, bringing the Switch back down to watch the post-boss cutscene play out.

Zeroken let out a dramatic but silent sigh of pure relief, gesturing for Fuka to come away with him towards the kitchen. “I’m totally making all this up as I go,” he confessed as they joined Valvatorez eating up the other half of the pasta bake for his evening meal, “but we can work up some lists of whatever sounds right – Desco believes pretty much anything you say, right?”

“Um, yeah,” Fuka said, crossing one arm across her to rub the other shoulder. “I don’t know about any of this stuff though, not like the stuff you said made sense to her.”

“Nah, it’s just like... Like meat often boosts your attack in video games, and that kinda makes sense ‘cause it’s protein, stuff like that.” He shrugged. “Val’s always going on about all the stuff sardines are good for-”

“Sardines are the perfect food stuff!” Well, he’d brought this upon them both. “Any list we write up needs to reflect that with the fact they provide a 300% boost to every single stat!”

“300% to every stat?!” Zeroken flinched back. “Desco’s never gonna buy that! Besides, I already told her they boost INT; we gotta stick to that now to sell this.”

Valvatorez pouted, sucking in a whole strip of sardine meat as he did so. “...I suppose they are an excellent source of docosahexaenoic acid, which provides formidable benefits to brain health and cognition.”

“Aaanyway,” Zeroken got back to, “can you write up a list of foods she used to eat? Like for different meals and snacks? We can work out what each thing boosts together, and then we’ll try it out in the morning for her breakfast.”

“Like a menu?” Fuka asked.

“You just ask her what stat she wants to boost tomorrow morning, and if she says something like attack we’ll make her eggs, or if she says speed we can slap some chocolate spread on toast.” He explained like it was all so simple to him. “It’s not perfect, but it’ll get her eating again at least.”

“R-Right, yeah...” She nodded a few times, casting a distance gaze back off in Desco’s direction. “That’s... the important thing, yeah.”

“I’m free until bedtime to help,” he continued amiably, grinning away.

She wore a slightly more complicated expression though, relieved but also almost hurt. “Sure... Thanks...” Brown eyes eventually snapping away with a blink, Fuka looked at him properly stood here with her. “I’m pretty amazed you worked it out, I gotta say. I didn’t think anyone here cared enough about us to try and help – Everyone acts so awkward around us, I guess ‘cause we’re the new kids and not staying long, you all don’t wanna get too attached.”

“Uh, I guess, maybe?” Zeroken went along with. “But hey, however long someone’s here we look out for them. That’s just what we do here! We’re family!”

His enthusiasm was pretty sweet. Dorky, but sweet. “Well, thanks. I particularly didn’t expect you’d help, since you seem kind of dumb,” Wow, such gratitude, “but I guess knowing lots about video games is useful right now. I never really played much with Desco and- with Desco.”

“Hehehe, well in that case, you can count on me, Fuka Sis!”

Fuka turned to take another of those distant looks at Desco again, playing away quite happily now thanks to all this. “...Thanks.”

~DOOD~

“It’s good to see Desco is eating properly,” Valvatorez commented, handing the washed bowl over to Fuka. “Three consecutive breakfasts now, correct?”

“Yeah.” She took it, rubbing the tea towels over a little haphazardly. “She’s eaten three times a day for all of them, and even asked for snacks too. It’s a bit of a pain having to go through the whole stat boost list thing, but at least it’s working.”

“Small steps,” he counselled. “These things take time.” So did scrubbing off the cereal Fuka had left on her bowl without soaking whilst dealing with Desco’s breakfast. “She’s still having issues with her sleep though, correct?”

“Yeah... She goes to bed when you tell her and Usalia to, but she just stays up playing games in her bed until she falls asleep; I’ve woken up and she’s still playing at, like, 1am sometimes.”

“Hmm...” He passed across the scrubbed bowl now, pausing with his hands in the tepid washing-up water. “Sleeping is often used for inducing saving your file, and/or restoring your HP in games...”

“I tried those,” Fuka said, once again passing the tea towels over with too large and enthusiastic swipes. “Since they don’t take long, like your characters sleep instantly in games, she just says whatever sleep she gets is enough.”

“Ah.” A couple of teaspoons were found in a final sifting of the bowl, passed over before the plug was pulled. “Well, we can always see if Zeroken has any more ideas – I certainly wouldn’t have known what to do without his input on the food issue.”

She stalled slightly, grip on one of the spoons falling slack enough it slipped from her fumbling grasp to clink onto the floor, and just as the last of the washing-up water drained away. “Sorry...” Valvatorez sighed, picking it up to rinse off and set aside to be washed again later. “Yeah, I wouldn’t have...” She remained there, staring distantly at the dried items to be put away, as Valvatorez had to busy off to deal with another of Laharl’s little cooking explosions.

She stared on distantly at Desco, at all of the other kids and their instructor, as the day progressed, the sun arching up in the sky. And then arching back down, moving towards the end of the day, towards bedtime yet again.

But this evening she was invited aside by Valvatorez, Zeroken bouncing up and down a little giddily at his side in the downstairs corridor. “Fuka, thankfully Zeroken has an idea about the sleep issue too.”

“He... He does?” She walked up obligingly, looking between the two.

“Yeah, so,” Zeroken launched into with an eager little sway, but at the same time fidgeting fingers, “so there’s this game called The World Ends With You I’ve played. And you get these pins, badge things, and you can level them up with different kinds of XP from fighting or leaving the game off for long periods but also from ‘socialising’,” he made quote-y fingers briefly. “You’re meant to pass by other players with it on the socialising menu, but if you leave it on that for long enough it’ll pick these ‘aliens’, which are just random things it creates to help players who can’t socialise. It takes hours though, like I’d wake up each morning and have only found a couple, I think, but they’re worth a lot of points. So, I figured, if we lie a bit and tell Desco they only come at night when the game is beside you while you’re asleep... The game uses the DS mic for some attacks and stuff, so we can say it’s listening or something to explain it...” he trailed off into swirling his fingers around one another. “I don’t actually have my copy anymore though, so it’s not that great an idea...”

“Does Desco have a copy of that game?” Valvatorez thought it was worth checking.

“I... don’t think so?” Her sister shrugged. “I don’t know. They- She has a lot of games. I can’t tell one from another half the time.”

“I’ll ask around the other children,” Valvatorez said, striding away and leaving the other two alone.

While Fuka wasn’t quite sure where to put her gaze, Zeroken still wasn’t sure where to put his hands or settle his body, fidgeting about enough it was uncomfortable merely to look at him. “I, uh, I don’t have a phone or anything to check up how much copies cost. I hope they’re not a lot or...” he trailed off, scratching at his cheek beside his little snaggletooth. “Does Desco believe in aliens and stuff? Or, well, I guess they’re not real aliens but...”

“I...” Fuka started, expecting the answer to be able to come out naturally, “...don’t know.” Now she turned away, watching where Valvatorez was making his discreet rounds murmuring a question in people’s ears.

“Oh. Well, I guess it doesn’t really matter if she believes in aliens or not actually,” he carried on more cheerfully. “She only has to believe that stuff about how the game works to find aliens.”

“...Yeah,” Fuka remembered to agree, standing up a little stiffer at the sight of Pleinair rising from her seat after giving Valvatorez a nod – It looked as if they had a hit.

~DOOD~

“Is it all set?” Fuka asked, looking at the dual screens too, even if she didn’t understand the menus she was seeing.

“Desco thinks so.” She continued to stare, even as nothing happened, a hand still holding the top edge of the top screen.

“Well, then you gotta close it, right? For the aliens to come.”

“...Okay.” Desco took her time closing the lid very carefully, tilting her head to watch until the moment the screens turned off slightly before the DS clicked shut. “How do you think the aliens know if you’re really asleep, Big Sis?”

“Well, Zeroken says the game uses the microphone, right? It’s like that,” Fuka shrugged to cover her own vagueness. “Or like Santa and the tooth fairy.”

Shuffling back slightly where she sat in bed, though still not ungluing her eyes from the closed DS, “Desco knows Santa isn’t real, Big Sis,” she settled down a little against her pillows, the low-lit room making even her small body cast big shadows against the room’s walls. “How does the tooth fairy do it though?”

“Maybe she uses microphones too- Or! Or she has a special sensing thing for teeth, and she can sense when there’s one that’s separate and not in someone’s mouth,” Fuka got a little more into spooling for her little sister, readjusting where she was sat on the floor beside the bed. “You gonna lay down now?”

It wasn’t quite laying down, but Desco shuffled downwards a bit more under the covers, keeping her head up and gaze on the DS though. “Wait!” She sat back up to move it closer to the bedside table edge, angling it carefully at her with perfect perpendicularity. “You’ll be really quiet when you come in to go to bed, right, Big Sis?”

“Yeah, I’ll tiptoe super quietly, and make sure I fall asleep real quickly.” She waited, smiling as Desco finally started laying herself down properly in bed. “Oh, here.” She reached out to take Desco’s prinny hat about to fall off the rather small table over to somewhere more suitable like her dresser-

“No!” Desco shook her head, burying it into her pillow slightly. “Desco wants to be able to get its special equip bonus as soon as she wakes up.”

“‘Special equip bonus’?”

“Zeroken told Desco about the special bonus, that the more of us that wear the hats the stronger team bonus we all get from it,” Desco said, just maybe starting to mumble a little towards the end.

“...Oh.” Staring into the eyes of the prinny hat, Fuka let herself fall silent. She turned her gaze onto Desco soon, to watch over her little sister falling asleep, but the hat kept dragging her back.

The hat which Desco had taken to wearing solidly the past few days, even while Fuka struggled to get her to ever change her other clothes, simply because Zeroken had apparently told her that.

The hat which everyone here wore, that Desco now fitted in with, even if just for a mythical team bonus.

Fuka removed her own prinny hat once she hadn’t seen Desco’s eyes open for a little while, seating it on a hand to turn this way and that.

Just a hat.

A dumb, really embarrassing, penguin-themed hat.

That Fuka had been wearing since the day she got here because... Because she’d wanted the special ‘team bonus’ too, not that she would call it that. Even putting it back on, where was hers?

She looked to Desco again, so very still now that maybe, finally...

A few more minutes of slow, soft breathing, and Fuka dared push herself up to a crouch, and then after a few moments more to standing. A little longer and...

She emerged from their room, pulling the door to and nodding, to a silent cheer from everyone assembled.

“That was pretty quick, wasn’t it?” Zeroken asked to anyone who could answer. “I don’t actually know how long it takes me to fall asleep but...”

“She is likely suffering from quite some sleep deprivation at the moment,” Valvatorez counselled. “I imagine we may have more difficulty normally, with all the screens she uses right up to bedtime and if she becomes too eager to fall asleep. But we will cross those bridges if and when we come to them.”

“Zeroken!” Usalia hissed, grabbing and dragged back down the arm of the gleefully jumping boy. “You’re gonna wake her back up, plip!”

“Sorry!” His voice could barely be kept down to an excited whisper. “I’m just so psyched it worked! I was really freaking out that it wasn’t going to.”

“It did seem a long-shot,” Killia agreed. “But in the end it did actually work. It’s really good you were able to think of this.”

“Yes,” Valvatorez agreed. “We owe you a great deal of thanks.”

Grinning his little face off, and rubbing at his hair under his own prinny hat, “It’s just... I just wanted to help,” he said, still remembering to keep his voice down at least. “I wanted so bad to be the one to help someone else for once; Rutile’s showed me so much stuff, and Killia’s always looking out for me, and Val’s taught me so many things... I just wanted to try and be like you guys.”

“L-Like us?” Rutile pressed her fingertips together, made too sheepish even by such a simple comment.

“Yeah, I...” The sheepishness was something else he had apparently picked up from her, twirling his own forefingers together. “I... wanna be someone’s big bro... I wanna be, y’know... Ahh!” He pulled his prinny hat down, covering his face. “No, it’s dumb!”

“It’s not ‘dumb’,” Valvatorez instructively scorned. “Continue.”

When everyone was quiet, waiting on him, Zeroken pushed his hat back up, golden eyes big and glowing slightly in the gentle landing lights. “I... Being able to pull this off, not feeling useless like I normally do and people say I am and I prove with everything I mess up...” he mumbled and rambled. “It... It makes me feel like maybe I can do something with my life after all, just like Sensei always promised...”

All a little humbled to silence, Killia was the one who stepped forward to rub a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You can, Zeroken. You’re the only one here who found something to help Desco, and I’m sure there’s lots of other stuff you’ll find you can do for other people too,” he assured. “I found it hard too, believing there was something I can do when no one else had ever told me there was, but there is something for us out there.”

“Yeah.” The fact that Zeroken sounded as if he had already accepted that made Killia smile with his full heart. “I... I think I’d like to do what Sensei and Val do, maybe, one day, if that’s not too much...” He laughed, to finally say it aloud. “That’s what I’ve been thinking, kinda...”

“What I do?” Valvatorez asked. “Caring for abandoned children, do you mean?”

“Yeah, helping street kids and orphans.” He grinned hard, poking a cheek. “Who better than a complete fuck-up who’s already made all the mistakes they could make?”

“You still need to learn from those mistakes yourself, and be able to take proper care of your own life first and foremost – Your attempts to balance a healthy and nutritious diet are still abysmal, for instance!” Valvatorez insisted, almost forgetting they needed to be quiet for Desco.

“I know, I know...” Zeroken sighed. “I’ve still got so much to learn but, you know, maybe one day...”

On that Valvatorez relented, “One day, yes,” smiling proudly. “Now, there’s no reason for us all to continue standing out here now. You all have just over an hour until bedtime, make the most of it.”

He clapped quietly and dismissed the gaggle, most drifting away back downstairs or a few to their rooms. There was a little lingering, the uncertainty of not that much time left and vacillation on how to use it, but eventually all but one settled it.

Fuka remained stood beside the bedroom door, staring down at the landing floor.

Having paused on the stairs down, Etna’s head reappeared to stare, biting on a lip, before daring to walk quietly back up. “What’s up? Aren’t you pleased about your sister?”

“W-What?” Fuka startled, clamping a hand over her mouth too late to stop any effect it might have had on Desco. “Yeah... Yeah, I’m... really happy,” she said. “I’m just... tired. Y’know, like...”

“Now it’s all over, kind of tired?” Etna offered her.

“Yeah, that...”

Etna stood, continuing to bite on a lip with one little canine. Her weight shifted to one side, posture just as awkward as Fuka’s seemed deflated. “...I guess it’s not ‘all over’, since your dad hasn’t come to pick you up and stuff,” she said. “I don’t... know about, like, having a younger sister and stuff – I’ve only got an older brother, and I guess looking after the Prince is kinda like having a younger brother, but...” she trailed off, and realised then she had no point past wanting to connect. But Fuka was looking up at her hopefully, wanting her to offer something after hearing that. “I, uh... I don’t know what it’s like, but it’s just good your sister’s eating and sleeping again, isn’t it? Even if a bunch of stuff is still messed up.”

Fuka stared on a moment longer, before deflating back down again. “Yeah... It is...”

Etna stared too, little mouth falling open, closing with a quiet, “Crap...” She swayed a little, trying to think. And Fuka wasn’t moving.

But the silence between them grew strong enough for Fuka to pull her prinny hat down slightly against the light overhead, moving to head on down past the other girl because there seemed nothing else to do. Etna remained, giving her that polite out.

Leaning herself back against the wall with a sigh, Etna found herself reaching for her own prinny hat, tugging it down over her face as well.

~DOOD~

“...Hey.” Etna stopped at the open doorway, going no further into Fuka and Desco’s bedroom without permission. Not that she was going to knock for it though; knocking is for dweebs.

Fuka looked up from her huddled position on her bed with rather unguarded surprise and melancholy, before settling her chin back on her hugged knees, resuming her staring contest with her removed prinny hat. “...Hey.”

That was enough permission between teenage girls for Etna to come in, dropping herself down on the end of Fuka’s bed, whatever she’d brought with her still hidden in the hand behind her back. “So... birthdays here kind of suck.”

The birthday girl herself shared a little laugh. “Yep.”

“They used to suck even more before Killia came – At least you get a really neat cake now; I didn’t even have that going for mine last November. And I had to share with Zeroken, since that idiot had to go and be born on the same day as me.”

“When’s your birthday?”

“30^th of November,” Etna answered, making herself more comfortable there.

Fuka’s eyes widened a bit, and a little grin came back into her face. “Oh, you might be a late Valentine’s baby!”

Utterly confused, “A what?”

“Your birthday’s just over nine months after Valentine’s Day – That’s probably when you were conceived,” Fuka, the girl who had apparently thought about these things, explained.

“Ew. Thanks for that,” Etna snarked, before thinking a little more on it. “I guess me and Zeroken were Valentine’s accidents they didn’t want then, or something...”

“...Oh.” Now the awkward one, Fuka dropped her gaze back to the prinny hat staring up lifelessly at her, poking one finger along its ‘beak’. “Your parents didn’t want you?”

Etna sighed as she took off her own prinny hat, “Dunno,” setting it down beside Fuka’s. “I don’t know anything about my parents; my big brother raised me from a baby, and he never really said anything about them before he abandoned me too.” Seeing another of those very awkward flinches coming over Fuka, “Hey, you wanna share some pudding while I bitch about my brother? And then you can bitch about how your dad still didn’t even come to collect you even though it’s your birthday?”

She had to blink through some heavy surprise first, before being able to take in the large pudding pot Etna had now revealed from behind her back with a couple of small spoons, but then dropped down her knees into a more comfortable crossed-leg posture. “Sure. What kind of pudding is it?”

“Oh, it’s this super amazing pudding from this place called the Gehenna Bakery-”

“Oh. Ma. God – That’s legit Gehenna pudding?!”

Etna gleefully laughed. “It’s so sweet to finally have someone around here who can appreciate a good pudding!” She shuffled closer, holding out one spoon to Fuka before lifting the pudding to right below their faces. Peeling back the lid, both inhaled deeply before letting out the dreamiest sigh. “Oooh, it smells so good!”

“I can see the milk chocolate, strawberry, vanilla and caramel swirls... What are the other ones again?”

“Raspberry, white chocolate and dark chocolate.”

Each took a very careful turn cutting through the whirled bands of pudding in the cup, squeeing in delight as they took their first mouthfuls together.

Etna turned the cup a little this way and that as they took turns dipping in, making sure both got to experience the full set of flavours on offer. “So, my brother raised me ever since I was a baby, like I said,” she started, sucking her spoon clean. “Supposedly I had some freaky medical thing that would have killed me he had to get this really expensive medication to cure. Whatever it was apparently worked because,” She gestured that here she still was, “but all our money went towards it, and I think he did some pretty illegal stuff to get the rest. So we were dirt poor, living down in Agul Eviland, if you know it.”

“Yeah, it’s one of the roughest areas of this downtown ‘Netherworld’, right?”

“Yep, that’s our home.” Etna let the spoon hang at her lips for a moment, sighing contently at the aftertaste of sheer pudding heaven. “He didn’t make me go to school or anything dumb like that, just taught me everything himself. He, like, lived for me. ...Then one day he just disappeared.”

“Out of nowhere? How old were you?”

“I think it was just after he finished getting the last of the medication I needed. I was, like, 5 or 6?” Just the very tip of her spoon poked at the pudding, drawing a line through its various colours without dipping in. “He just went out and never came home one day... I went out looking for him, but I couldn’t find him. Then some creeps took advantage of that, said they’d help me find him if I did what they said.” Her spoon stabbed in a little, digging out some more pudding now to shove moodily into her mouth. “But that’s luckily when the King- Laharl’s father found me.”

“So, he, like, adopted you, right?” Fuka took her own turn with a slightly smaller mouthful of pudding.

“Yep.” She was entirely back to her usual casual lackadaisy already, letting the spoon pop as it re-emerged from her mouth with that word. “They had to try and get in contact with my family when he did, legal thing or something. So Xenolith had his chance to object. But he didn’t come back, so...”

“...So screw him?” Fuka tentatively ventured.

“Yeah, screw him,” Etna agreed, even if there was the slightest hesitation lingering at the end. “I’m tired of wondering if it’s him every time the phone rings, or I get a letter, or whatever. After all this time...” Her spoon hovered, twirling in her hand instead of digging in. “Anyway. You wanna tell me about your dad now?”

“Huh? Oh, sure.” Fuka took up if the other girl was insisting, swallowing her current spoonful of pudding before she began. “So my dad’s, like, some sort of ridiculously clever mad scientist. Whatever he does, he earns enough Mom doesn’t have to work, so she stays home and takes care of us. But that’s good because Dad’s always getting caught up in his work and not coming home for days. Even at weekends and on holidays, he just wants to work!” She gestured emphatically with her spoon, nearly losing it if her grip hadn’t been tight enough. “It’s actually pretty cool science stuff. And he even installed a small lab in our basement so he could-” She froze, mouth still open and gaze distant into middle distance in front of her. But it looked the kind of sudden stop a person is brought to by fear, a tension creeping around the edges of her frame visible to anyone looking.

Etna hesitated in an anxiety as well, before pushing the pudding cup closer. “So is he, like, a good dad when he actually fucking remembers you exist or not?” she asked, urging Fuka to take another spoonful.

After a moment more torpor, Fuka awakened to the half-eaten pudding in front of her, a shaky hand extending her spoon back towards it very slowly. “He’s... all right- He’s fine. I mean...” Her spoon hesitated on top of the pudding, cutting only shallow lines in its surface. “He means well. His science stuff is cool,” she repeated, pressing into the pudding too slowly no matter how precise you wanted to be. “He always tries to get us anything we want to- He tries to invent stuff that doesn’t exist, just for us, if we say we want it! It’s...” She cut a spoonful of pudding without lifting it out yet. “It’s so dumb. But he’s trying to be a good dad in his own way. Even if he’s so stupid about it.”

“Yeah, it sounds like it,” Etna agreed, dropping the pudding cup so Fuka’s selection was forced onto her spoon and she’d have to eat it now. “So, he’s super caught up in his work right now then? What a bastard!”

“Yeah...” Fuka agreed unenthusiastically, her forced spoonful threatening to slip off the spoon uneaten.

“Uhh...” She really didn’t mean to speak her hesitation aloud, scrambling for anything to say like, “Then I guess that makes us sisters!” Fuck, no. Fuka was right to look so surprised. “Like sisters, I mean,” Etna corrected. “Since we’re both waiting for a shitty family member who’s supposed to be looking after us but abandoned us here.”

It still didn’t seem to quite resonate with Fuka, but after a moment she brought out a warm but small smile from somewhere inside of her. “I... guess so, yeah.”

Seizing on that, sticking another mouthful of pudding in herself in an effect to encourage, “So, wha’ shoul’ I ‘o if Xenolith comes bac’?” Etna asked around her spoon.

Shrugging, Fuka preferred over-inspecting the spoonful she was bringing to her lips, “Uh... I dunno,” probably putting it in more out of politeness than anything.

Etna sucked on her spoon for a moment, before pulling it out with a pop from a gleeful grin. “I should kick him in the nuts! For making me worry so much.”

Fuka snorted hard enough to choke on the pudding she had just swallowed. “Oh my God, yes!” Then she started slapping her legs, clapping in her eagerness to add, “And he’s gotta buy you a present for every single birthday and Christmas he missed!”

“Now you’re talking!” She shared the pudding cup across again. “What about your dad?”

Now Fuka dug in without hesitation once again. “Uh... I guess he deserves a kick in the nuts too, for making me take care of Desco while we’re stuck here.” Very carefully, she got every possible bit of wobbly pudding onto her spoon it could precariously balance as it headed for her mouth. “He oughta buy me something super nice to make it up to me too, like a car or something!”

“A car?!” Etna cackled a little, slapping her own thigh. “You’re too young to even drive!”

“He makes stupid money from his science job, he can totally afford it! And I’ll be old enough to drive by the time that-” She crashed to a stop, blinking at the large spoonful of pudding waiting in front of her. Eyes flicking up, and seeing that awkwardness on Etna’s face attempting to piece together what she had been about to say, Fuka shoved the spoon in hard, making every pretence she had only stopped to do that anyway. “Mmmmm! So good!”

After a moment to catch up with the deliberate subject shift, “I know, right?” Etna keenly joined in on. “This was definitely worth sharing with someone who can actually appreciate that. Shame there’s so little left now, though.” Tilting the pudding towards her and then Fuka to show, after that big spoonful there was indeed a tiny bit of plastic bottom beginning to show through.

“Ah. Sorry,” the culprit apologised.

Etna shook her head. “It’s cool.” She took a smaller spoonful herself now, to make it last, before offering it across again. “I... I don’t know what I said wrong before, when I was trying to help you about Desco. So I wanted to...” Yeah, apologies and feelings were not her thing.

Fuka stared while she even tried to remember what- “Oh. That.” Fuka took her own, very small, dip of a spoon. “It was just... Well...” She sucked the pudding off while she thought of the words. “Desco’s my little sister, ya know? I feel like I should have been the one who worked that stuff out, how to get her eating and sleeping again, not some random boy we’ve only known for, like, less than two weeks. I’m meant to be looking after her while we’re here, but I can’t even...”

“Oh. Yeah, I get that now.” Etna turned the cup around, trying to scout out the best veins of flavour left. “...I once... made a promise to Laharl’s father, that I would protect Laharl if anything should happen to his father. He’s a little snot, and he can kinda look after himself, but I still... Now it’s just the two of us in the world, or with his sister stuck uptown at least. And I get jealous sometimes, watching him play with the other kids here while telling me to get lost, or get angry when Val is the one that saves him from getting injured in battle. Like... I know what it’s kinda like, being the older sister to an idiot you want to need you, and be able to do everything for, ‘cause it’s your duty to...”

“...Oh. Yeah, that’s...” The competition for the remaining chocolate veins was on, spoons battling for the last of the white chocolate. “He totally doesn’t seem like the sort to appreciate all the stuff I bet you do for him.”

“Exactly!”

“At least Desco says thanks to me. ...Sometimes,” Fuka reflected. “But it sucks! Because of these stupid, useless men who can’t stop disappearing and junk, we’re stuck wasting our precious girlhood youth looking after these two! Damn it, I wanna be... going to parties, and having a boyfriend, and stuff! Why are none of the boys here even hot?!”

“God, tell me about it!” Now the competition seemed to have shifted to the smallest scoop possible. “That’s why I got a girlfriend, because have you seen guys our age?”

“Oh ma God, you have a girlfriend?! I’m so jealous!”

“I know. It’s great!” A little playful rubbing it in between friends, that was fair. “But even with that, I don’t get to see Flonne anywhere near as much as I would if we went to a normal school together and stuff. I mean, not that I wanna go to a normal school, since lessons here are much more fun, but...” She paused before her next spoonful into the remaining caramel. “Hey, what’s a normal school like? You used to go, right?”

“School?” Fuka glanced to the school uniform hanging messily on her dresser amongst the rest of her limited clothes rotation. “You’ve never been, like ever?”

Etna shook her head. “Not, like, a proper one. Xenolith taught me at first, then Laharl’s dad sent us to this... It wasn’t really a proper school, more like an activity centre place for street kids, when he wasn’t teaching us at home. I’ve never been to a proper one with, like, classrooms and uniforms and all that.”

“You’re really not missing much,” Fuka said. “But how are you gonna get a job and stuff? I’m gonna go back to a normal school once my dad- picks us up,” she very smoothly corrected now, “so I can get proper qualifications and stuff. Can you even get a job without going to school? One that’s not, like, flipping burgers or dealing drugs?”

“Yeah, it’s not that bleak,” she rolled her eyes at the fancy, midtown kid. “I just... I don’t even know what I would wanna do anyway; I’ve always been a street kid that no one seems to want, until... Until the King picked me up anyway. And then Val said I could be more, that I shouldn’t let how other people see me hold me back...”

“You shouldn’t!” Fuka insistently agreed. “You’re super cool! And strong! And kind...” she said that a little more awkwardly, blushing slightly about the pudding they were nearly at the end of now.

“...Thanks.” Etna blushed a little too, twirling her spoon as she planned for its final assault. “I was so busy trying to help the King out to repay him after he adopted me, then looking after Laharl for him after he kicked it, that... I don’t even know what I wanna do for myself is the real thing, if that makes sense?”

“Yeah, I get it.” That final bit of vanilla only she could see from her position was eyed up, ready to dive in. “Like, I thought I’d get to just have a normal damn childhood and family, and get to just have the fun types of problems like working out who to date and stuff. I don’t wanna... I don’t wanna be one of those kids with all this damn baggage like a broken family and responsibility for my little sister weighing me down – It’s totes not fair! And it sucks!” She stabbed in fast enough that Etna’s own delving spoon didn’t see it coming, the two crashing together as they duelled over the last scraps. “I just... I just wanted to be a normal girl...”

“That was never even a possibility for me,” Etna laughed, not to make the other girl feel bad though. “But I... I’ve just always wanted to have a family. Just someone else to give one single damn about me.” Her more pointed spoon thrusts clinked against Fuka’s more sweeping chops in the cup. “It’s why... It’s super dumb, but the last thing Xenolith ever bought me were some of those gel pens that have, like, really bad fake smells in the ink?”

“Oh yeah, I know what you mean.”

“I still have them. They dried up so I can’t use them, but I still smell them, ‘cause I told myself if they still have their smell then he’s still alive out there somewhere. I... I haven’t been doing it so much since I came here though, since...” She succeeded in winning the last bit of vanilla with a little smirk of triumph. “Since I got this dumb hat and jacket, actually.” Embarrassing as it was to call attention back to them, “Val gave them to everyone on my birthday last November, and it... He said they made us family...”

Fuka looked over at where Desco’s prinny jacket was waiting folded on her dresser, for the distant day she’d finally be big enough to wear it, hopefully long after they left here. But still, anyone could wear one of those prinny hats. “Desco’s really taken to hers, even if it’s just ‘cause of whatever Zeroken made up about them. I still...” She stopped, sucking on her conciliation prize of raspberry for a long moment. “...Hey, could you tell me something? Honestly?”

“What?”

Wavering a little where she sat, “Is it...? Does anyone actually want me here?” Fuka asked, big, brown eyes looking straight on for once. “Everyone wants to play with Desco and help her, and they seem to like her. But... you’re the first person who’s done anything nice for me here. And no one ever seems to wanna talk to me. And...” She drooped, tucking an arm across herself to hold the other sleeve of her prinny jacket. “...Everyone thinks I’m really annoying, don’t they?”

Etna chewed her lip, sitting the empty cup in her lap and tapping on it as a fidget. “...Honestly, I don’t think anyone likes anyone here,” was her answer, to shock the other girl out of her misery. “The Prince is super loud and annoying and orders us all around; no one here can appreciate how great I am; Pleinair’s weird and barely says anything which is creepy; Rutile’s just too damn nice in that really annoying way like she wants everyone to be happy-sunshine-friends; Zeroken is dumb as a rock and makes a mess in the kitchen every day; Usalia won’t stop saying ‘plip’ every other sentence and stinking up the house with curry; Killia’s too boring and nerdy since he stopped being super-angry and got into cooking; Christo was such a fucking snobby, little smart-ass when he was here; Seraphina’s a spoilt bitch with a really freakin’ grating laugh; your sister’s always playing games with super annoying music and doesn’t do any chores for herself; and Val’s always waking us up at dawn, totally stiffing us on pocket money and will not shut up about sardines!” The point of her little tirade being, “I think you fit in just fine, Fuka.”

After a moment for her whirring brain to catch up, Fuka broke into a slightly ugly mess of a laugh, covering her snorts with the sleeve of her prinny jacket. Luckily Etna was soon laughing with much the same lack of grace, so no one could be teased here. “Th-Thanks.”

Etna simply shrugged, looking around, then finding somewhere to set the empty pudding cup and spoons aside so she could make herself comfortable on Fuka’s bed with the other girl. “So...” she thought slowly for a new topic, “wanna hear all the gossip about my girlfriend?”

“Oh hell yes!”

~DOOD~

“It smells around here...”

Valvatorez glanced back at the lad trailing his coattails in a little strop, cute snub of a nose turned up at the streets of the Netherworld they were traversing. “You’ll adjust,” he said, keeping up a quick pace.

“I don’t wanna adjust!” Emizel insisted. “I wanna go home! I don’t care what Pops said about you and this place, it sucks around here... And stop walking so fast, dammit!”

“My pace is perfectly reasonable. You should stop dragging your heels, lad.” He didn’t even look back, merely walking out into the road with a hand up in thanks to the halted car and expecting his new charge to follow. “You may be Hugo’s son and unaccustomed to these new circumstances, but I have no intention of mollycoddling you because of it.”

Apparently Emizel had hurried after him, even if doing so tired him out, because a slightly breathless voice yipped, “I’m going to tell Father about that, how you said you’re not going to treat me with any respect – I deserve mad respect, yo!”

“I said nothing about refusing to treat you with respect,” Valvatorez made clear, turning onto their destination street. “If anything, refusing to mollycoddle you means treating you with more respect than thus far have tended to receive, to treat you as the responsible young individual you should be.”

“Stop talking whack – You just mean you’re gonna called me ‘spoilt’ like everyone else and make out everything’s my fault ‘cause you think my father can’t do anything to you now he’s in prison! But he’s still...” he trailed off, looking from the large, chain-link gates Valvatorez was unlocking to the building housed inside. “I have to stay here?!”

“Yes.” He opened the gate, holding it for them both to enter. “Is there a problem?”

“You’re damn right there is! This place is so... Ugh, it looks so dirty, and cramped, and ugly! I bet it smells even worse inside than it does out here! And it’s so dilapidated! The Mayor’s son shouldn’t be staying in a place like this!”

Valvatorez merely continued to hold the gate open, perhaps with 20% more sass now. “May I remind you that you are not the Mayor’s son anymore, now that your father’s position has been revoked? You are a minor in need of care, just like my many other charges, and from the unconscionable slang emanating from your mouth, just as in need of a firm, corrective hand.”

“You dissing what I’m preachin’?”

“I’m ‘dissing’ the way you’re ‘preaching’ it.” Now his gate-holding had risen to 40% more sass.

Emizel deigned to look in the direction of the group home, his new home now apparently, again. And he grimaced. “How did my life end up like this? I can’t believe this...” Having to stay in this dump of a building he’d been made to walk – Walk! With his own two feet! On the dirty streets! – all the way to across town to, with a bunch of strangers and only allowed to bring a fraction of his stuff... “This can’t be happening! I want to go home already!”

“You are home now-”

“Don’t say that!” he very much whined. “I don’t care! I wanna go home, back to my normal life, the sort of life that someone like me deserves!”

Oh, this was too interesting not to up the sass levels to one hand on a cocked hip. “By what token do you deem you ‘deserve’ such a life and not this one?”

“Because I’m a normal kid, not one of those poor, lower class nobodies from this part of town!” Emizel declared. “I’d be wasted at the crap schools they have down here, and I’ve actually got a future ahead of me! And a proper parent who’s not some gang member drug junkie! My good start in life is going to be ruined if I’m forced down here with these dregs! It’s criminal!”

Valvatorez blinked a few times, because, “...Are you unaware your father has his origins down in these ‘poor, lower class’ streets of ‘nobodies’, lad?”

“Father?” Apparently he was unaware. “Tha-That doesn’t matter!” he decided.

“Perhaps not,” Valvatorez intervened quickly to agree before any more of that immature protesting. “But what does matter is that your father is now remanded in prison for the next year at least, with good behaviour, and until that time you are still a minor and in need of care. With no family or other suitable guardians available, you have been placed in my care. And you can either embrace the situation to make the best of it, or persist in making it more miserable for yourself than it need be – That one choice is yours.”

Emizel’s small, round features pouted out as far as they could go. “...They shouldn’t have been allowed to send Pops to prison in the first place, since he needs to look after me.”

“I am perfectly capable of looking after you in his stead, as would be many other institutions that provide for temporary wards of the state.”

“...I can’t believe Father did this to me. He even lied I was involved in the whole thing.” And now he took his anger out on the chain-link fence, kicking at it petulantly. “Someone has to be blackmailing him; he’d never say that, and allow me to be taken to a place like this, unless someone was forcing him.”

Now that give Valvatorez pause for one moment. “...The circumstances surrounding your father are... I believe you may be right that they are not as simple as they appear, and thus your new residence here as well.” That got Emizel’s attention back at least, even if only in the form of confusion. “But I have nothing concrete on that right now, merely a sense.” Well, that got him a frown now. “Let us make haste within, in any case – Dawdling out here accomplishes nothing for either of us.”

“Ugh.” Not a fan of that plan, Emizel nonetheless shuffled his expensive, very clean trainers forward through the gate with his backpack and small suitcase of belongings.

“Class will be in session now.” Given the boy’s dragged heels on the way here it was long past 9am. “We may as well introduce you already to your fellow residents while they’re all gathered.”

“Whatever...”

It was all with trudging reluctance that Emizel waited through Valvatorez relocking the gate, sealing him into this disaster, and then followed through the front door, along the scuffled hallway within to a noisy, little classroom of disorganised chatter about... hair brushing?

“There’s nothing wrong with the way I brush my hair!” Laharl objected, the ‘antennae’ of his hair looking almost as if they were sticking straight up in offence at the suggestion.

“Then what the fuck are these?” Etna said, grabbing them with an easy tug.

“Get off! You know that’s just the way the hair in my family grows!” Without even bothering to try and pull himself loose, Laharl took the path of equal revenge, grabbing onto Etna’s pigtails to even harder in an escalating battle.

“...The fuck?” Emizel turned to Valvatorez beside him. “This is a lesson?”

It took Killia gently intervening with his strength to save the two endangered scalps, as Valvatorez nodded. “My friend Artina was kind enough to step in and provide a valuable lesson on proper hair care while I was collecting you.”

“What the hell is there to learn about hair?!”

At the front of the classroom, smiling at the new face in the room, “I’m teaching about different types of hair, proper washing and brushing technique, what the different products you can get are for, the three phases of hair growth, how dyeing hair works and why balding happens,” Artina explained. “Everyone has hair at some point in their life, and it’s been a vital part of human culture throughout history, as well as being an important component of caring for yourself to ensure good physical and mental health.”

Picking seamlessly up, “We focus on the everyday practical in our lessons, just as much as the academic theory one would find in other school classrooms,” Valvatorez stated.

Emizel stared up, somehow managing both wide-eyed befuddlement and narrow-eyed confusion at once, from inside his hood.

“Everyone!” Valvatorez now called, turning to the curious class all taking a good look already at, “This is Emizel. You are all aware of his father as our former mayor, and his recent corruption conviction he was remanded in prison for. Given Emizel’s lack of other family and minor involvement in his father’s-”

“I wasn’t involved in that gang stuff!” the boy in question flared up, fuming inside his hoodie. “Pops was lying when he shifted the responsibility for that stuff onto me, I guess to get himself a lighter sentence or something.” Pouting as he cooled off quickly, “Yo, this is just whack; why is everyone out to wreck my cred suddenly...?” Emizel was soon back to sullen muttering.

“You, uh,” Zeroken spoke up too quickly, before realising he’d regret having to finish that, “you sound like you’ve been involved in gang stuff, kind of.”

“You baggin’ on my street lingo, dawg?” the little hot-head fired up again. “Yo better check yo’self, before yo wreck yo’self!”

Anyone should really have expected the response of bewildered and slightly mocking laughter that received from around the room, not gotten further enraged as Emizel did.

“Hey, you’re pretty funny at least!” Zeroken said, smiling more amiably now. “That’s cool.”

“He talks as weirdly as the Prince,” Etna judged though, still smirking away.

Laharl’s hair practically stuck back up again. “I do not ‘talk weirdly’! Vassals shouldn’t speak like that to their overlord!”

Now Emizel sunk down, “Holy crap, everyone here is crazy...” looking for the nearest exit.

“I’m not ‘crazy’ either, damn it!” Laharl insisted, slamming a little fist on his desk. “I won’t make you my vassal if you keep saying things like that!”

“I don’t wanna be your stupid ‘vassal’! I just wanna go hoooome!” he wailed now, looking utterly miserable where he tossed down the backpack he couldn’t be bothered to shoulder anymore.

“You’ll adjust soon enough,” Valvatorez asserted, patting his head condescendingly. “Rutile’s mother is also in prison, so she can tell you what visiting days are like and such.” He tried to point the lad in her direction, if he was looking from inside his bowed hood.

“Y-Yes! You can ask me anything while you’re getting settled in!” Rutile enthusiastically welcomed, balling her fists up earnestly.

Emizel tutted, tossing his little head away slightly. “Don’t act like that’s enough to get to make friends with someone like me – Who cares if your mother was stupid enough to get herself locked up?” With all eyes in the room now on him, he seemed to have no issue haughtily staring back. “I’m not like any of you. I shouldn’t be here. And I’m gonna find some way to get things sorted out so I don’t have to stay in this shithole with you.”

That certainly settled a silence over the room. And particularly Rutile, who had very quickly shrunk back into her seat, tucking herself into her own tightly ashamed body. “I-I... I-I’m sorry...”

“The hell are you sorry for?” Laharl asked, slamming a fist on his desk before pointing at Emizel. “This bastard’s the one who’s got it all wrong!”

“Yeah!” Fuka joined in, demonstrating an even more intense pointing. “Where do you get off speaking to us like that, you little jerk?!”

“And treating an innocent girl like Rutile like that!” Seraphina sniffed. “You ought to apologise to her!”

“N-No, it’s okay-”

“It’s not okay!” Zeroken insisted. “You were just trying to be nice, and he’s the one who’s outta line here!”

But Emizel just shrugged in his hoodie. “Like I care what the likes of you think; none of you are ever going to amount to anything important in life coming from a deprived background like this, not like me- TH-THE FUCK?!” He startled aside from the thankfully poorly aimed pair of scissors that had been thrown his way, wailing a little in fear.

“All right, enough,” Valvatorez firmly intervened, holding up an arm before Emizel in defence, even if a rather half-hearted one. “I will go and settle Emizel into his bedroom upstairs now. The rest of you, please return to giving Artina your best attention in gratitude for her coming in today.”

“I really don’t mind, Mr. Instructor,” the substitute in question assured.

“N-No, you’re always so kind to come over whenever I need you, and...” Valvatorez coughed politely. “A-Anyway!” He quickly ushered Emizel from the room, only giving him a brief enough chance to collect his belongings back in hand before leading the way to the stairs. “We only have one bedroom left available at the moment, and it’s currently completely unoccupied so you won’t need to share for now, thankfully for everyone involved.”

“I’m not sharing a room,” Emizel demanded as he trudged up the staircase behind that tattered, flapping coat. “I’ve never shared a room before. I wouldn’t be able to sleep with someone making noise, and they’d probably just stab me in my sleep if they’re from this area of town.”

“They certainly will if you continue on speaking in such a fashion to them,” Valvatorez sternly advised, rounding onto the landing.

“It’s not my fault if they can’t handle the truths I’m laying down.”

“‘Truths’ is far from accurate,” Valvatorez contested, leading along to the one room still stood empty, that forlornly unwanted bedroom painted a vibrant green compared to the plain rest. “But I’ve given you my advice that your time here will be far more pleasant if you are willing to hold your tongue, open your mind and attempt to make friends. Whether you now take it or not, and the consequences of your actions, are upon you.”

“Whatever,” was Emizel’s simple and dismissive reply, stepping into the bedroom and instantly wrinkling his little snub of a nose. “It’s tiny. And it sucks.”

“It’s the same size as all the bedrooms here. And it comes with an en suite bathroom, unlike the communal facilities you would normally find in establishments such as this.” The comparative blessing looked as if it did nothing to improve the room’s standing in Emizel’s eyes. “You’ll be responsible for your own cleaning and meals while in residence here. If you-” He paused, and looked at whom he was talking to. “I’ll teach you how to clean and cook, since I’m very willing to bet you’ve never had to do that for yourself before.”

“Of course not! I’m just a kid! Children aren’t meant to do that stuff, their parents are. Or their parents’ staff.”

“Well, there are no parents or their staff here, and I am merely your instructor.” With a flicking gesture of his hands to, “Settle yourself in,” Valvatorez disappeared away for a moment to another room.

By the time he returned, Emizel’s one tiny concession to ‘settling himself in’ was that he was now doing his petulant sulking sat on the edge of the unmade bed beside the stack of bedding to be applied, instead of stood where he had been before. He looked brightly hopeful for the briefest moment to see Valvatorez carrying something in for him, until he got a clearer look at what it was. “The hell is that?”

“All my charges here receive a set of prinny clothes, a hat and jacket, to signify we are a family together here.” He set them on the chest of drawers instead of handing it to the boy, expecting-

“I’m not wearing anything like that – I’m not staying here, and I don’t want to be a part of any stupid family for society’s rejects. You’re wasting your time bothering with kids like these, you know that? Society would be much better off if it just gave up on worthless drains on the system like them.” His polemic stated, he slouched back to let the wall beside his bed take his weight, tucking into his designer hoodie.

Valvatorez paused for a moment, before simply leaving the prinny clothes and the boy where they were for a moment. He exited the room without further words, not even he having anything he wanted to say to their newest resident right now.

~DOOD~

“He’s still not settling in well then?” Artina asked as she politely toed off her ridiculous heels downstairs on the shoe rack.

“Hardly at all,” Valvatorez sighed. “He often storms out of lessons when unimpressed with my knowledge on the subject, and refuses to accept instruction on cleaning. He has been forced into feeding himself but it’s more a case of merely combining various foods or snacking throughout the day and night as opposed to preparing himself proper meals. Little wonder he’s complaining of upset stomachs and general fatigue.”

“It does sound as if he’s suffering a lot of stress, trying to adjust to life here.” Both glanced up the stairs above them, checking for eavesdropping faces. “While you are right Emizel needs to learn his independence, Mr. Instructor-”

“I know,” he could only sigh again. “Had I less other children to see to, I could better spare the time to sit down with the lad and work through his problems. But Fuka and Desco are yet to fully integrate themselves as well here, given their own issues, and it’s not as if any of the other children have been magically relieved of theirs...”

She smiled sympathetically, that balm enough for his tired heart. “You work so hard for them all, Mr. Instructor. You really do need an assistant here, although I’m not sure anyone could ever compare to your level of dedication to the children.”

“W-Well, I always have you, Artina,” he broached, pressing his fingertips together. “I really couldn’t do any of this without you, so if I were to have an assistant...”

She chuckled. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know of anyone like me I could recommend.”

“...Ah.” Valvatorez was just... going to politely cough and gesture to the stairs up to Emizel’s room for now. “Shall we-?”

“Valzy!” Feet came skidding up on the faux-wood planks, sliding to a stop by slamming into the man, and both of them into the wall beside him. “Sorry, these are kinda slippy,” Fuka apologised for her long socks. “But I gotta speak to you about something! Uh,” she looked to Artina briefly, “alone.”

“A-All right,” Valvatorez agreed as he caught his winded breath, turning and nodding to Artina. She nodded as well, heading on up by herself. “What is it, lass?”

“You’re gonna chicken out again, I know it!” The girl pointed dramatically. “That was a good lead-in, the whole assistant thing – Artina seems like the kinda chick who’d fall for a guy who loves his kids that much – but you can’t let her being a space cadet stop you! Today’s the day, okay?”

“I-I... I was simply going to wait until after we had dealt with Emizel, to allow a chance for the topic to come back round again naturally,” he defended, somewhat lamely.

Fuka tutted, shaking her head with a weary sigh. “I guess you’re gonna hafta, now she’s gone upstairs to deal with him. But afterwards, when you walk her out, that’s when you gotta pop the question – It’s time to ask her out!”

He swallowed, and wondered if he was really going to take advice and orders from this 15-year-old girl in his care. But... “Very well. I will give it another chance when I see her off afterwards.”

“Don’t you dare chicken out again!” she insisted, now already pushing him towards the stairs to get going.

After catching himself a few steps up, straightening out his tousled coat, Valvatorez trotted up to head into Emizel’s green bedroom, walking in on its one resident having his head soothed by Artina’s gentle hand.

When she noticed he had finally joined them, “I did a brief check of his throat and listened to his chest and such, but from that and the symptoms described I don’t think there’s anything physically wrong like a cold. It’s only stress, as expected.”

“Told you...” Emizel muttered out bitterly from his defeated huddle on his bed. “Hey, since he’s employed to look after me,” he asked this new party to his woeful suffering, “doesn’t that mean he has to do whatever it would take to make me feel better?”

She smiled, because it was a good try. But, “Mr. Instructor is trying his best to look after you, Emizel. But you aren’t making it easy for anyone-”

“H-Hey, don’t blame this on me!”

“-And should he be unwilling or unable to,” she continued, “you would only get transferred to another facility like this.” Emizel pouted, because he knew it was true. “I can tell you from having worked with a few that Mr. Instructor’s home here is far nicer than every other one in this city, allowing you all those games downstairs and so much freedom in your studies and meals.”

“Surely there’s gotta be, like, a nicer one in the better part of town or something?”

“There’s one uptown that Rutile and Pleinair were at, until they were bullied enough they had to run away,” she offered to the boy who would only suffer an even worse fate without the strength to break someone’s arm if necessary. “The only other one I could even recommend is the La Pucelle orphanage run by the Church of the Holy Maiden, if you don’t mind daily prayers and enforced choir duty.”

He shuddered violently. “P-Pass...”

“I am attempting to make your stay here as comfortable as possible,” Valvatorez wanted to underline, even if he got glared at by red eyes for daring to assert it. “If you fail to appreciate the independence I am attempting to instil-”

“Independence, my ass!” Emizel snapped. “I’m wise to what you’re playin’, fool – You make us do all the damn work here so you don’t have to!”

Before the two boys could get further into their little spitting fight, “I appreciate you’re used to having your father or his assistant do chores back home, Emizel,” Artina intervened, “but that simply isn’t feasible for one adult here to do for all these children, is it?”

“They can handle themselves,” he shrugged lackadaisically. “I’m the one who needs it.”

“You could learn to look after yourself too, like the other children,” she urged.

“Why should I have to? Besides, it’s stressing me out just being here, you said it – Making me do more work’s only going to make me iller.”

She paused for a moment, taking a good breath to find a sympathetic way through his manipulative defences. “Stress is often a result of feeling a lack of power and ability to affect outcomes in our lives. I really do appreciate that so much of what has happened to you has been far beyond your power or responsibility, Emizel.” That softened him a little, defensive shrug shrinking away slightly. “But Mr. Instructor and I only have very limited ability to change your circumstances to be more as you would like either. If you were to learn how to take care of yourself, with Mr. Instructor’s help, you could at least take back some of that power and control over your life that has been taken away by all this.”

But there any softening went with a small huff of air. “Knew you were just his stooge, lady...” Uncaring for the pain that flashed across Artina’s face, or the protective irritation across Valvatorez’s, “Whatever,” Emizel continued. “I’m going to sort stuff out for myself anyway – I figured out it’s probably that chief alderman guy, Carter,” Valvatorez perked up with all transient annoyance forgotten, “who’s blackmailing my father. If I can just get him found out-”

“What exactly was your father’s association with Carter, lad?” Valvatorez cut into the rather naively ambitious planning to ask.

Emizel shrugged. “I dunno exactly, Pops interacted with a lot of high-up people in the city council and police and junk. But towards the end, before he was arrested I mean, he was all stressed and secretive, and having all these weird meetings and phonecalls all the time, and Carter was one of the main guys I remember they were with.” Though no warmer yet, he was still looking to Valvatorez for any answers the man could give him.

There were not answers to be given yet, but, “I believe you may well be right to point a finger at Chief Alderman Carter...” he did agree nonetheless. “Which others were these meetings and phonecalls with?”

“There’s that police sergeant guy, y’know, with the moustache...?”

“Vulcanus?” Artina suggested, turning the name over thoughtfully on her own tongue.

“Yeah, him,” Emizel recognised. “I’m pretty sure he was working with Carter, a lot of the meetings were those two together.” He rocked thoughtfully, casting a mind that hadn’t paid enough attention at the time to his father’s supposedly boring work. “And I don’t think they were exactly working with him, not in the same way at least, but they had Judge Nemo involved somehow too.”

“N-Nemo?” Artina whispered out unwillingly, hands clasped before her chest.

“Yeah. Big, blond, stupid-looking mouth...” Emizel described. “Why?”

Expression on the verge of crest-fallen, but not yet tipped over that brink, “He’s... Are you certain he is involved in this, whatever they’re scheming?” she asked.

“W-Well,” Emizel slightly hotly defended his assertion, “he used to be all right, but the past few months or so he’s gotten weirder, whenever I’ve been around him with Pops.”

“‘Weirder’?”

“Like... more on edge? Meaner? I don’t know, just weird.” He shrugged.

Artina’s lip was well-bitten now, but before Valvatorez could ask what was going on, “Would you say he seems paranoid? Maybe... delusional?” she ventured very hesitantly.

“I dunno about ‘delusional’, he’s always seemed kinda weird – He’s not like that Fuka girl here, if that’s what you mean,” Emizel said. “But paranoid, yeah. He always got edgy about me hearing what they were saying, or would tell me to watch out for really weird stuff like people trying to kidnap me and stuff. I couldn’t even tell if he trusted Dad or not anymore, even though they used to get on really well.”

“Oh no...!” Artina swallowed down her truly distraught fear, tucking in on herself.

“Artina?” Valvatorez finally spoke up, concerned enough to come to her side.

She was shaking her head, glancing aside to the bedroom’s open doorway. “Would... Would you close the door? This is private, but I need to know from Emizel if...”

Valvatorez simply trusted in her, nodding and going to shut the door before returning to her side.

Artina composed herself a little first, taking a deep breath before beginning. “This is confidential medical information, but such things can be shared when it is believed that the patient or others may be at risk. And... if what Emizel says is true about Judge Nemo...” She fell momentarily silent, thinking how to break, “...Nemo was a patient of mine once, for physical injuries but also severe mental health issues, including paranoid delusions of persecution after experiencing a traumatic hostage situation.”

Even if the lad still struggled to see the significance, Valvatorez started to piece things together, that, “He was the friend you once mentioned, that gave you experience with delusional mental health problems?”

She nodded. “It was far beyond what I should have been dealing with, considering my training. But I was the only one Nemo trusted in, so I did what I could for him. And he did get better; I got him to start taking medication that helped calm the paranoia, and he stayed on that after leaving my care.” Now she shook her head in deep distress. “But if what Emizel describes is accurate, if he truly is experiencing paranoia again and acting as he did before... I fear he may have stopped taking the medication he needs, and relapsed back.”

“I never saw him taking any meds,” Emizel said, wanting to be back in the conversation again. “He did used to seem all right too, like I said. But I started noticing him acting weird a few months ago, around the time Carter and Vulcanus started bothering Pops more. That’s why I figured he was working with them.”

“That seems rather coincidental in timing,” Valvatorez frowned over, “unless either Nemo is orchestrating the two of them, or else they somehow engineered his relapse to take advantage of his paranoia.”

“Nemo isn’t-! He wouldn’t...” Artina quickly wanted to defend, as uncertain as she was. “He’s such a lovely man, when he’s not suffering from his delusions.”

“I’m not sure I’d go that far...” Emizel wanted to get in his opinion.

“I can’t think Nemo would orchestrate anything like...” Well, they hadn’t actually pieced that part together. And thus her assertions could only be based on feelings, and not logic.

Feelings, of the sort that... made Valvatorez hesitate. “You were... You got to know Nemo well, while he was in your care?”

She nodded. “We... Well, it was quite like your time with me, Mr. Tyrant. Nemo’s recovery was similarly intensive and lengthy, so I suppose we...” Any more of that sentence she kept private.

“You were friends, then?” But he couldn’t quite let the subject drop, not quite yet.

That she was more hesitant to move her head in confirmation or denial of. “We... got to know one another quite well, yes.”

Such a diplomatically vague answer-

“How is any of this related to my father?” Emizel butted back in. “I still need to work out what they were all up to, how they were blackmailing Dad. I’ll do it myself if you two aren’t going to be any help to me. Then I won’t have to be here and put up with all this,” He glared first at Valvatorez, “and I won’t be stressed out anymore,” then second frowned at Artina.

With that moment ruined, and any further ones likely to befall the same fate right now, “If something truly was afoot in regards to these men and their dealings with your father, then I will most certainly lend you my assistance,” Valvatorez answered the boy. “But how do you propose to acquire the evidence we would need against them?”

“I... I dunno,” Emizel huffed. “I’m still working this stuff out, okay?! Give me a chance here!” Pouting at his own lack of power, “If you wanna help, you can actually do shit like make me decent meals and clean up this joint,” he insisted, throwing himself back down on his bed in a strop. “This sucks. I just wanna get out of here...”

Valvatorez shared a look with Artina. But there was nothing else they could do for now, aside from Artina offering the most basic of stress reliefs like herbal tea that were all rebuffed as ‘whack’.

So they ended up stood outside by her car, sharing worried faces and a sigh over the predicament.

“I... Well, I can provide treatments for his symptoms like upset stomachs and headaches,” Artina said. “But I’m afraid unless the root is addressed...”

“Yes, I know...” Valvatorez placed a pale hand over his face, eyes pressed shut in frustrated inability. “I have no doubt that the lad will eventually be forced to confront his circumstances, sharply and uncomfortably if necessary. I would prefer to save him from such an unpleasant collision if possible, but...”

She smiled as warmly as her pained features could. “You can only do so much, Mr. Instructor. Especially with so many children now. Had Emizel come along earlier like the time you were able to devote to teaching Laharl and Etna how to take care of themselves, or were he getting along better with the other children as it took to bring Usalia out of her...”

“Yes...” His hand was now dragged down his face, with an accompanying groan. “I just don’t know what to do about him.”

“Mr. Instructor...”

“But I owe it to Hugo to look after his son for him!” Valvatorez insisted with a fervent flick of his coat. “Especially if I am correct in my suspicions about the intentions behind certain actions of his, in light of what Emizel divulged today.”

That topic brought a potentially crestfallen look back to Artina’s face, at the thought of...

Valvatorez also found his expression faltering, taking in hers when she thought of Nemo presumably. “...You are an excellent judge of character, Artina, I’m certain of as much,” he said. “I’m sure if you believe that Nemo has no ill intent in his true heart then he has been as manipulated in all this as Hugo, whatever part he has played.”

She brought her head back up, with a weak smile for him. “Thank you. I... hope so too.”

There were only functional and phatic parting words left to say today, before Valvatorez stood at the roadside to watch Artina drive away and leave him.

Which left him to turn and then face the wrath of-

“What the hell was that?! Did she turn you down?! Seriously?!”

He groaned anew, because of course Fuka had come out to snoop on their goodbye conversation. “I wasn’t able to ask, lass-”

“You chickened out again?! Valzy!”

“I did not ‘chicken out’!” he insisted, having this little altercation outside if they were going to need to raise voices. “While conversing in Emizel’s room a... past someone came up I believe Artina may have feelings for, who may be in a bad situation. The whole matter rather distressed her, and in light of it I felt it best not to...”

She scowled for a moment, before piecing together, “You mean... like an ex?”

“Something... of that ilk.” Perhaps it was best to agree, rather than risk breaching confidentiality here.

“Oh.” It seemed to mollify her back down to just a pout. “Well, that sucks – You seriously have some bad luck when it comes to asking her out, y’know?”

He sighed, again simply leaving himself at her mercy for now. “I... I need some time to consider, lass.” Maybe that was quite an ask with Fuka, but, “I’m so busy taking care of you all here, and Artina has so much work of her own that I similarly can’t ask her to give up on-”

“Whoa, whoa! You can’t just give up ‘cause of that, Valzy!” Of course she had to object. “You two would be perfect together! It’s such a good love story, how she saved you from near-death on the frigid winter streets, and nursed you back to health with her love, leading you to fall head-over-heels for your very own Florence Nightingale!”

Dear Lord... “Firstly, it was early summer when Artina found me, lass. And secondly, the Florence Nightingale Effect refers to caregivers falling in love with their patients, not the other way around.” Those inaccuracies corrected, and ignoring the ‘Whatever’ they received from Fuka, “I believe it is possible Artina still has said feelings for this other person, and in light of this new information I need to consider...”

“Oh. Are they, like, really different to you? Is that it?”

Valvatorez evaluated her for a moment, and what would get her off his case about this. Knowing so little about Nemo though, “Yes, I would say we are quite different souls. We certainly differ in appearance, if nothing else,” he judged it best to answer.

“Ah, well, that’s a shame.” She nodded sagely. “But if she’s into manly men, or whatever, and not twinks then there’s not a lot we can do.”

“‘Twinks’?!” Should he go on the defensive against the term, or admit he didn’t know what it meant?

Maybe it was easier simply to ignore her and get on with business as usual. Yes, that was probably the best approach for all his problems right now.

~DOOD~

Usalia scuttled back into her room, climbing up onto her bed with a heavy ‘plip’ of dejection. Curling up on herself, there was no way to avoid the questioning eyes of her many rabbit friends sat on the end of her bed.

Eventually pulling herself back up to a rather floppy seated position, “He didn’t have to be so mean, plip...” she began as she took up the stuffed body of the closest rabbit into her lap to talk to. “Maybe the reasons I didn’t settle in and open up at first are different to Emizel’s, but...” She still didn’t know what to say. Apparently that wasn’t enough when you wanted to sympathise with someone. “It’s not my fault, plip – I am just a child. Even if he said it to be mean... Everyone expects me to try and act like everyone else here, even though they’re all teenagers, plip.”

The rabbit’s head flopped back and forth in a puppet’s nod, then allowed its soft ears to be taken and stroked through her hand repeatedly.

“I have to cook all my meals for myself and do all my laundry, plip, even if Pleinair does most of the room cleaning. And keep up with the same lessons, even though I’m nearly as bad at maths as Zeroken. And put up with them talking about relationships and all that yucky stuff, plip.”

Again, her teddy nodded for her. But that was all it could do.

And the eight-year-old’s head bowed with a plippy sigh. “You’re right, plip; sitting around up here feeling sorry for myself isn’t going to help,” she counselled herself maturely. “I should go downstairs and watch some TV to take my mind off it...”

Hopping off her bed, Usalia looked down at the stuffed toy still in her hands, that she needed to consider whether she wanted everyone to see her carrying downstairs to cuddle. She reached out to put it back... but then pulled it back to her chest, going on her little way out onto the landing to head for the stairs.

That took her past the other bedroom doorways, mostly quiet or empty, except-

Usalia paused outside the room of tinny-sounding battle music and character barks, watching Desco rolling around on her bed as if she were engaged in the battle as well herself with her Switch as her own enemy. Though she really hesitated about interrupting, “...What’re you fighting?” she trotted on in to ask anyway.

There was one of those familiar pauses they’d all come to expect, wondering if Desco had even heard you. But after half a minute, “Day 2’s boss. But he keeps climbing up 104, so Desco has to dodge him when he jumps down – She’s going after his Ultimate drop.”

“...That’s cool, plip.” Such a politely pleasant response wasn’t going to receive one in return from Desco, but Usalia didn’t know what else to say. “Um...” The roaring and character sounds from the game were still on-going – Why could she hear so many mathematics terms being shouted? – so she cast her gaze about the other girl’s bed area, the rather messy dresser covered in video game consoles and cases, and her bed in the same state too. She was about to wilt and plip her way back out, but then Desco actually set down the Switch in front of her.

It still had her attention, but, “Stupid long cutscene,” not the whole of it. Enough that her legs began kicking behind her, one upsetting something from the end of her bed.

Usalia crouched down to pick the soft monstrosity of a thing- Oh, it was a... stuffed... “Who’s this, plip?” Well, it was a stuffed something, though ‘animal’ or even ‘toy’ seemed rather charitable terms for such a lumpy- Wait, maybe they were meant to be tentacles?

Desco actually looked up at her. “That’s Desco’s Octorabbit. Daddy made it specially for her!”

Octopus was fair enough for the tentacles and general... scaly weirdness, but, “Rabbit, plip...?” Usalia held up her own stuffed rabbit beside for comparison, and the two should have been attracted together like opposite poles of a magnet they were so disparate.

“Mm! It’s a science experiment that went out of control and will now enact its revenge upon the world that spurned it – Octorabbit is a true final boss, nyhahaha!”

A final boss? “Who are the heroes that set out to fight it, plip?”

Desco’s Switch flopped down completely, the cutscene proceeding automatically without her. “Desco doesn’t know. Desco only has minions, sub-bosses, secret extra bosses and a mid-boss.” She nodded to her dresser, where her other stuffed toys must be contained. “Big Sis got rid of most of her party members even before-” She cut herself off quickly, focusing all of her attention back on her Switch.

Similarly jumpy as her mind continued that train of thought as well, “I have- What about my party members, plip?” Usalia offered, holding up her current stuffed rabbit.

It took a moment for Desco to face lifting her focus from the Switch back to the real world, but critically sizing up the new character before her... “Do you have a full party of them?”

“Um...” How many were in a full RPG party? “I have 37 stuff- party members, plip.” That ought to be enough, right?

Desco’s eyes certainly widened. “That’s almost enough for a Suikoden or Chrono Cross.” She seemed interested at least, enough to hope that was a good comparison. “Are they all playable?”

“Oh, uhh...” There were a few who were a little too delicate to play with like this, so, “A few are NPCs, but the rest are playable.” With Desco’s gaze flicking back to the Switch every so often- “I’ll bring my highest level ones, since Octorabbit is a final boss, plip!”

Scurrying off at speed, before this window of possibility got away from them both, it took a few minutes to sort out the ‘highest level’ ones and half a dozen attempted scoopings to get all the selected to stay in her tiny arms.

With a couple of droppings along the way, her little leggies ran back to Desco’s room with her party in tow, dumping them out on Fuka’s currently unused bed.

Spreading them out brought Desco over to investigate the foolish heroes daring to enter her Octorabbit’s final dungeon, perusing the selection. “One should be the mad scientist who created Octorabbit, so he can talk to them during the final cutscenes.” She frowned though. “None of these look like a mad scientist.”

“Um, wouldn’t he be an NPC or something maybe, plip?” Usalia suggested. “Like, if he was an old man scientist.”

“Mmm... Yes, he should just be an NPC with dialogue portraits, but he doesn’t need sprites. But he shouldn’t be that old. Only like Daddy’s age.”

Usalia perked up, starting to piece things together. “What does your daddy look like, plip? I’ll go get one of my NPCs.”

“Daddy looks just like Big Sis!” Desco was glad to say. “And Desco looks like Mo...”

With another awkward moment verging, “One moment, plip!” Usalia ran at full speed back to her room, looking through all of her many rabbits for the one most like Fuka. Grabbing a brown anthromorphic one with a patch of chewed and unruly fur on its head, she brought it back, receiving a thumbs-up of approval. “Does your daddy act like Fuka too?” she asked, to keep a safe subject while setting them up at the back of the group.

“Daddy is less bossy and more silly, but otherwise they’re pretty similar.” Desco was more interested in asking, “Which one is the main character?”

“Umm...” Usalia looked over, guessing she could go for her favourite yellow one. “Him, plip!” She subtly impressed the other girl with her choice, if Desco’s intense nod was anything to go by. “He, um, he fights with a sword.” She set him back down, because they could imagine the sword, right?

“Yes! All heroes fight with a sword or fists!” Not very creative, but true. “Where’s his sword?”

Now Usalia floundered, fretting as the rules began to rise faster around her than she could keep up with.

“Ah!” But Desco actually intervened in the situation of her own creation, darting into the bathroom to bring back a (hopefully unused) toothbrush. “Now he just needs to equip it.”

Another trip to Usalia’s bedroom, and soon both girls were tied up in trying to tie a toothbrush onto a paw that was not meant for holding things with decorative ribbon that was not meant for functional knotting. “Sorry, plip. Pleinair and I have lots of arts and crafts things but they’re not super useful for things like this.”

Desco thought on it for a moment, as the newest knot slipped off again. “...Some games have bad user interfaces that make it hard to equip your party. Desco will persevere though.”

That was... an odd analogy to make Usalia feel better, but it did. “...I’m glad you want to play this game with me, plip. Everyone else here is too old to enjoy games like this, even if sometimes they’ll still try because they feel sorry for me.”

“Mm, Big Sis doesn’t often want to play Desco’s games. ...And she doesn’t really understand; she only wants to play ones with romance mechanics, or read fanfics about the ‘hot’ characters.”

“I don’t get the appeal of all that either, plip.”

“Desco thinks it’s gross.”

Usalia chuckled, with those couple of extra years she had on the other girl. Some light discussion about his lack of armour ensued, leading soon to them attempting to affix a flannel about his neck as a cape. “Do you also feel like you’re being forced to grow up too quickly here, plip?”

“...Desco does feel like she’s been left at the daycare centre to be levelled up without earning the proper EVs from battling herself, yes.”

That was convoluted, but it sounded like an agreement overall. “...It’s hard just to be a child here, plip,” Usalia maturely shared, fiddling with the knot that wouldn’t stay.

Desco fiddled as well, too many small fingers fiddling in one tiny space for it to work. “Normal children don’t end up here. Only children who have lost... things do,” she ventured, focusing very intently on the knotting. “The sort of children they make into playable party characters, except...”

“...Except, plip?”

“...Except, Desco doesn’t think she wants to be a playable party character in this game. Desco...” Too frustrated and emotional, she dropped her hands from the futile knotting with a little noise of anguish, picking up Usalia’s mage bunny to start tying a lollipop stick of a wand to. “Desco wants to go back to being an NPC again...”

Usalia persevered in fiddling on alone. “I also want to go back to just playing games in my free time instead of doing chores, and having my parents make my meals for me, and going to a normal school, and not having to do self-defence lessons, and not having to stand over another human being and decide whether they get to live or die, plip.” Success! She finally turned the now-knotted cape around her main character to show Desco.

Who was too busy looking rightly disturbed at what Usalia had just said.

“Oh... That’s right, plip...” Usalia realised. “You weren’t here for that...”

“...You had a plot choice like that? That sounds like a really big branching path moment, the sort you need two playthroughs to see all the cutscenes for. ...Did you choose paragon or renegade?”

“Um...” After a moment parsing all the gamer talk, and dwelling on that thought of a second ‘playthrough’ of that very different path her life could have taken, “...I let her live, plip,” she answered.

Desco nodded slowly, for a long moment. “The paragon path often feels most canon, Desco thinks. Especially for a character like you.”

Usalia’s head cocked over. “Thank you, plip?” It sounded like a compliment at least.

“Desco hopes she doesn’t have to make any plot choices like that while she’s here; there’s no save and load function in case.”

Both returned to their work, Usalia now picking up another bunny – A healer, they decided – to start tying an RES-boosting ribbon onto. “I hope I don’t have to make any more either, plip. I thought I’d get to have a nice, normal life until I came here. But now...”

“It’s a completely different world map now.” Desco set the equipped mage aside, collecting up the remaining party members to go through and set their class.

Halfway into trying to attach a knight’s kitchen foil armour, “...I don’t understand how everyone else does it, plip,” Usalia confessed. “How they’re all thinking about their goals and dreams for the future. While I just want to be able to exist here every day without it hurting.”

“Desco feels exactly that way too...” She paused in drawing out the big final dungeon map, looking at all the symmetrical pairs of enemies on her layout. “...Desco doesn’t want to be just a single joy-con by herself...”

That really did confuse Usalia for a moment, finishing off most of the armour until she was trying to fashion the two boots to be a bit more of a matching pair- “...Oh.”

Desco’s pen hesitated. Her hand hesitated on flipping the paper over, and starting afresh to ignore what was there. ...But she showed it to Usalia instead, pointing to the doors outside the final chamber. “What puzzles should Desco use to lock the final room?”

Usalia hummed and hawed, puzzling over it with her.

It wouldn’t be done today, but that was okay. They had plenty more time together, plenty more time here. They were still just kids, after all.

~DOOD~

And here she had even put on her very stylish, rose gold headphones to block it out, but still Seraphina could hear the immature shouting and squabbling from the upstairs corridor. (That the headphones were all style and no technical specifications was neither here nor there.)

Soon, with the most dramatic of huffs, she threw down her headphones upon her bed, stomping to her bedroom door in her indoor heels to see what ridiculous fuss it was here today.

It seemed to have centred around that newest brat’s green doorway, now slammed shut at least, the shouting match over. Left standing outside was the equally annoying, delusional girl, prinny hat pulled down over her such childish, mousy hair, and prinny jacket sleeve dabbing at her... Ah.

“...What’s wrong with you?” Well, now she had gotten up Seraphina may as well get to the bottom of this.

“N-Nothing...” Fuka tried to insist, seeing who it was and equally erecting her usual, haughty defences. But she had been so plainly crying, even if she had forcibly halted it now, so... “That li-ittle jerk was just making fun of me ‘cause of...” Well, she shrugged, not comfortable admitting all of it aloud. “Like my clothes and stuff, ‘cause he’s such a spoilt brat,” that part was safe to say.

“Indeed, he is,” said the hypocrite. “But your clothes are really quite dreadful,” Seraphina actually agreed.

“Hey, they aren’t my clothes! I had really nice clothes before, at home!” Fuka insisted. “These are just charity stuff I had to take ‘cause my clothes were- they didn’t get packed when I was sent here!”

She really could not make sense of the girl’s ridiculous stories and delusions. But charity clothes? “...What size are you?” That was too cruel a fate to inflict upon anyone.

“I dunno. I just took whatever kinda fitted from what they had.”

Seraphina tutted, because that was not the response of a true lady. But, with a finger back to her well-glossed lip, “Well, your figure doesn’t look to be quite as perfect as mine, but it may still be enough to work with a few of last season’s items I haven’t had chance to get rid of yet. Come with me.”

“Huh?” Fuka totally blanked, wiping away the last string of snot from her nose. But Seraphina was heading back to her bedroom, and opening up her very well-stuffed dresser. “You mean, like...?” She dared walk in to the normally firmly off-limit bedroom of the two eldest residents, coming to stand in the half covered with tacky jewellery and ridiculous numbers of tiny make-up arrays.

Of course nothing still in-fashion was up for consideration here, but Seraphina managed to pull out a few older items far too passé for her to consider wearing again, holding them up. “You just have to have brown hair and brown eyes, don’t you? That really makes this difficult...” She tutted that no, that cream sweater would never work with such an already plain base. Before Fuka could complain though, “You do have a good face. And your limbs are quite long. We can work with that.” Back to rummaging.

Fuka looked at the small pile of maybe-clothing appearing for her. That she was... going to be loaned? Given? “I really don’t care how it looks on me; I’ll take anything that fits and doesn’t have gross stains that won’t wash out.”

Seraphina’s perfect, little nose wrinkled in deep disgust. “Even if you are quite plain, no one with the moderate potential you have should be reduced to such low standards – Being sent to live here because of the idiocy of our fathers is no reason to give up on one’s appearance, even if every other grubby and puerile toe-rag here doesn’t care about it.”

“Oh,” Fuka realised. “You’re also here because your father...?” Maybe she didn’t want to talk about it either. “...That one looks nice.”

Seraphina also appraised the sky blue camisole she was holding up, looking from it to Fuka. “You would need to wear something with it, since you don’t quite have the physical maturity to fill it out. But yes, this should work.” And thus she handed it over to Fuka.

It was not exactly the sort of thing one could easily try on, leading Fuka to simply hold it up against herself, supposing it seemed as if it’d fit.

It led Seraphina to consider her again, developing her thoughts further. “...Blue does suit you.”

“I seem to end up wearing a lot of it,” Fuka sort of shrugged about that, not too sure what to do with the camisole she was probably keeping.

“Good. One should always work with one’s natural colour affinities.” She set to searching for more blue items therefore, also considering what else would similarly complement.

“What sort of colours suit you?” Fuka asked, before realising it’d be better to prove her own eye for fashion. “I always think red looks good on you. And black.”

“Indeed. I have the elegance and maturity to pull off stronger, more sensuous colours and fashions,” Seraphina pleasantly agreed, feeling her face lift into a smile that someone got it. “It’s a shame in some ways, as that means my style is very different from the simpler styles that would work for you – You want to go classic and timeless, a plain and well-fitting pair of denim shorts, a white sundress, that sort of thing, yes.”

While she wasn’t a fan of all the ‘plain’ and ‘simple’ words, “You mean I should lean into my innocent and sweet girlish charms?” Fuka put it in more her style. “A perfect and radiant bloom of a maiden in her prime, ready for love!”

“Yes! That’s exactly the sort of look you should be going for!” Seraphina clapped her hands happily, before blinking at the sight of Fuka grinning at her.

Enjoying Seraphina’s company... talking about the same interest with passion...

“So, what else do you think would suit me?”

Even... wanting to hear Seraphina’s opinion.

...Not merely tolerating a spoilt princess everyone not-so-secretly laughed at behind her back.

Of course not. Not this girl, that everyone here avoided dealing with the delusions of, and mocked once Fuka was out of the room...

Seraphina looked at her drawers once more, frowning at the slim pickings worthy of being gifted to Fuka. “I’m not sure I have much else, personally, as we suit such different styles. Really I need to take you out for a proper afternoon tour of all the best shops at Rosen Queen.”

“At the super big shopping centre?!” Fuka squealed just at the thought. “Oh, they have the best parfait café that we just have to-! Oh, wait...” she realised, drooping down. “I barely have any allowance left, and Valzy won’t give out money for anything except super necessities like underwear.”

“Oh my,” Seraphina realised. “Yes...” Money was a thing one had to think about when considering things in this sort of inferior life. “...Well, it’s not as if I don’t have some quite considerable savings still available to me; such a trip ought not to make a noticeable dent in them.”

“W-Wait, your savings?! Really?! You-?!” Maybe she shouldn’t question a gift horse too much in the mouth. “Are you, like, really serious about this?”

Seraphina had to consider that too, if she was really willing to spend her own money on buying clothes for someone else, to... actually have someone to go clothes shopping with for the first time. “...Yes, I am,” she set herself to it.

“Oh em gee! You’re just, the best, Seraphina!” Fuka squealed happily, grabbing the other girl’s manicured and moisturised hands to hold in hers. “Oh, we should totally invite Etna too! She has a great taste in fashion too, and that way we can order more sweets to share so we get to taste more things! We can make it a proper girls’ day out!”

Though reeling, “A girls’ day out... with friends...” Seraphina did comprehend what was being offered to her here. “...Yes.” She smiled warmly back to Fuka’s big grin. “After all, what is money for, if not to buy one happiness?”

~DOOD~

“All right!” Valvatorez announced, punctuating it with a loud hand clap to try and rise above the disgruntled bickering and protests. “Excellent job, everyone, for responding so quickly even though this was merely a false alarm-”

“Don’t act like this was just a damn fire drill at 2am!” Laharl yelled.

“Yeah!” Fuka backed up, perhaps on the same side as Laharl for the first time ever. “It was all that freakin’ stupid, little idiot’s fault!” she said, pointing at the one child stood apart from the gathering out in the cold, night yard.

Trying to disappear into himself over nearer the kitchen door, the smoke alarm still shrilly beeping away inside, Emizel tucked up even tighter inside his hoodie, turning away from everyone.

“I refuse to stay in a place that cannot even ensure I can get a decent night’s sleep each night!” Seraphina joined in, perhaps approaching the miracle of all of the children being brought onto the same side for once.

Though a little cooler about it, “Why was he even cooking at 2am anyway?” Killia’s tired voice still had an edge to it as well.

“It is actually not long past midnight, not ‘2am’,” Valvatorez corrected the most trivial part of the whole issue. “And as for what Emizel was doing, I will see to that-”

“You better make sure he doesn’t do whatever it was again!” Etna said.

Rutile tried to say, “I’m sure he didn’t mean to-”

“Yeah!” Even Desco piled in, “Desco is losing out on time to get PP from aliens!” for her own reasons.

“I was having a really good dream about giant carrots made of carrot cake, plip...” Usalia added miserably.

“Can we go back to bed now?” Zeroken asked around a yawn.

“Tired...” Pleinair agreed.

“Yes, yes, fine,” Valvatorez sighed, stifling a slight yawn himself. “Go on and get back to bed, everyone,” he ordered, gesturing for them to disperse already.

That meant them all trudging back towards the kitchen door with a varying spectrum of sleepiness or irritation, a few on that furthest end lashing out with words or a shove for Emizel until the boy even shrank further away still from all of them. Rutile was the only one who paused in going past, but with him completely withdrawn thanks to everyone else she too ended up walking by in the end without managing to say a thing.

Killia had the responsibility and height to see to the smoke alarm on his way in, thus leaving only Valvatorez outside, standing with a hand holding the open kitchen door as he watched Emizel from behind. “Are you not going to return to bed now as well?”

The lad said nothing, tried not even to move so nothing could be taken as a response and thus turn this into a conversation that he really didn’t want to have. But a sniffle slipped out despite his best efforts.

Valvatorez’s hand closed the kitchen door, with him remaining outside with Emizel.

No acknowledgement was made of this, still every effort being made to refuse that anyone else was out here with him, trying to engage him in a conversation or help him.

Faraway in the city, as with every city, dogs barked and engines rumbled along the barren streets, voices of the minority still awake in the dark of night mumbling or shouting with little response while everyone else slept. Shivering at the cold as he removed the coat from over his pyjamas, Valvatorez walked over, placing it upon Emizel’s shoulders instead.

That stilled the lad, not yet adjusting it to rest on his smaller frame properly.

When nothing was said to him, “Why were you cooking at such a time of night?” Valvatorez tried again.

Emizel hesitated, but then sniffled lightly. “...I was hungry. I didn’t... I don’t like cooking while they’re down there. So I didn’t really eat today...”

Valvatorez patiently nodded. “Would you like me to teach you how to use the toaster properly, so that you don’t set the smoke alarm off again?”

That question in itself didn’t receive a reply. Only silent consideration. Before Emizel finally turned around, still flinched from properly facing Valvatorez though. “Why aren’t you telling me off for this? For any of this?” he asked, a little bit of a fire beginning to rise back into his voice.

Red eyes blinked simply. “Do you wish to be told off for it?”

“Rrr... dammit!” Now Emizel stamped his little foot on the yard, balling up his fists. “Of course not! But that’s what you’re meant to do! You... You’re meant to be mean to me, because I’m stuck here now! I’m stuck here in a children’s home because my life is fucked up! It’s going to be a total disaster now! I’m just going to be stuck in low class institutions like this, and no one’s ever going to hire Father again now he’s in been in prison, and we’re not going to have any money, a-and...!” He sniffed loudly. “M-My whole life is rui-ined now... What’s even th-he point in trying a-anymore...?”

“You want to give up?”

“M-Mm...”

“Can you give up?”

That finally stopped the train of self-pitying misery, even if the tears and snot couldn’t stop so easily. “Y-You mean...?” he timidly didn’t even dare to say it. “I-I... I don’t want to do that either...”

“Then what are you going to do?” Valvatorez put to him, placing a hand on one hip.

“I...” he gulped. “I don’t know...”

“Those are your two options – Will you give up on yourself, or not?”

Emizel stood small and cowed, bare feet scrunching on the paving slabs and face down-turned. Before a small hand came up to hold onto Valvatorez’s coat about his shoulders, pulling it a little closer about himself finally. “...Ca-Can I really...? I’m so useless, i-is there really any point to me trying?”

“Even with your limited interactions with the others, you’ve likely seen how incompetent Zeroken is in the kitchen, or Laharl’s inability to avoid getting into fights over the TVs, that Seraphina cannot take the trash out without her disgust leading her to hold everything at too great a distance and drop it all?” Valvatorez said, wrapping his own thinly-covered arms about himself against the cold, Spring night. The examples raised a chuckle, at least. “You are no more useless than any of them, and yet they still try.”

“But I can’t even work a toaster right...”

“Neither can Zeroken, even after months in my care. The only difference is that he sets off the smoke alarm during the day instead, when everyone else is prepared for it.” In this home, they were all very prepared for that by now.

“But they all hate me now...” was his next procrastinating objection.

“Perhaps. They certainly do not have any reason to like you from your actions so far,” Valvatorez agreed. “But with enough improved action you can give them back a reason to; you will merely need to be patient while you build enough good deeds to outweigh your bad. Nothing you have done thus far in your short time here has been egregious enough that it cannot be overcome.”

Emizel pulled both sides of the coat closer around himself now, as if to hide inside it. “...Heh, you make it all sound so easy...”

“Not ‘easy’. Merely ‘possible’.”

That was something Emizel mulled over for a good moment this time, finally grasping that distinction with his still developing mind. “...So you’d forgive me? Even though I’ve been really mean to you too?”

“Children go through four stages in the process of psychological individuation necessary to mature into adults,” Valvatorez launched didactically into. “Firstly they identify completely with parental and authority figures, following them unquestioningly in morals and actions. Then second they develop the capacity for questioning these givens, feeling uncertainty without action. Next, the stage I believe you are at the beginning of, the adolescent looks to other sources of identity and morality such as subcultures, trying them on experimentally with unusual clothing, companionship, speech styles,” he particularly looked at Emizel there, “as they attempt to formulate a separate identity in direct rebellion from parental figures. Finally they retain the new parts that have resonated, and re-evaluate their parental figure initial morals, synthesising the old and the new to acknowledge they both share some values with the various influences upon their life but also differ as their own individual.” It was way too late at night for Emizel to take in a lesson like that, but he felt he got the gist. “Many of my charges are at the third stage, of necessary rebellion against parental authority figures, which I represent. Thus I take rebellion as a sign of healthy development, and am happy to serve such a purpose for... for my charges,” he finished, almost sounding a little breathless.

“...Okay. Well, I still shouldn’t be a dick to you while I’m... individuating or whatever,” Emizel said.

“Ah, yes. I would,” Valvatorez agreed, pressing a hand to his face, “I would appreciate that...” while the other groped out to find the wall to lean on.

Huh. That wasn’t normal behaviour, was it? “Are you okay?”

“I’m... I...”

Unable to finish a sentence apparently. That really wasn’t a good sign, Emizel was pretty sure. “What’s wrong? Hey?” Slumping against the wall really wasn’t much of an answer, but enough to get the boy panicking slightly. “Shit! Um, ahh...! What do I do?!”

Valvatorez shook his head, doing the best he could right now. “I’m fine, Rascal...”

“You’re definitely not!” In trying to manhandle Valvatorez... to the floor? Back inside? Whatever, as soon as Emizel touched him it was painfully apparent how freezing cold the man was. “Jeez, why the hell did you give me your coat, idiot?!” He began struggling back out of it, making rather a mess of the job in his panicky state.

“Because you needed it...”

“You needed it more, stupid!” Yanking the oversized coat off himself finally, Emizel tried to pull it around the rather faint, slightly taller man the best he could. “Come on, hurry up and get back inside!”

He was failing enough at the coat thing, let alone multi-tasking with opening the kitchen door, but getting Valvatorez in there where he could collapse to the floor a bit more safely was a success in the end. Once he was down there it was easier to just drape the black coat over him like a tattered blanket, and thankfully Valvatorez wasn’t so far gone he couldn’t pull it tighter around him, leaning himself against a cupboard to rest.

“Should I get you anything?” Emizel continued to fret. “Like, um... a hot drink or something?”

Valvatorez tiredly shook his head. “Don’t set off the smoke alarm again...”

“I can boil a kettle without setting off the-!” he caught his voice, realising the time of night it still was on one of the oven clocks. “Fine. Come on. Should I get you to bed or something at least?”

After buying himself a few more moments to catch some minimal strength, Valvatorez supposed he should submit to the boy’s incessant assistance, hobbling their way back upstairs to his room.

~DOOD~

It was too much to say Emizel truly integrated with daily life straight away, hovering instead at its edges like some form of spectre for the most part. Quiet and withdrawn, it fitted with the other children predominately ignoring him in irritation over his former behaviour. Those more forgiving of him were also the type to be too shy to act upon it, at least until improving group relations meant it would not be quite so far out-of-line to do so.

So it began with the smallest things, bitter-toned advice on how to use the kitchen appliances so he wouldn’t cause a fire again, shouted reminders about his laundry left in the machine, tolerating him giving answers in lessons.

A raw carrot placed on the side where he was about to begin cooking for the evening.

“I used to be a bit spoilt as well, plip,” Usalia said, just about reaching the height of the kitchen counter to stare at the carrot she had placed there. “You should eat more vegetables or Val will tell you off.”

“Uh, thanks?” He picked up the carrot, inspecting this new and foreign object to his hands. “I need to peel it first, right?”

“Yep, plip.” Off his benefactor was already though, kicking along with her one of the step-stools to begin cooking for herself across the kitchen.

“Right.” Emizel stared at the carrot, turning it over this way and that in his hands. “I guess a knife? It looks like a knife when they do it on TV...” He actually knew where the knives were too, which was a big deciding factor too.

So, you held the carrot in one hand, the knife in the other. Then you... cut a little down into the carrot’s skin? Yeah, that was okay. Then cut down and take off- Take off a massive chunk of the edible carrot part you didn’t mean to. “Crap...!”

Okay, maybe with a shallower angle... You’d end up barely taking off a flake of carrot skin. “Damn it...”

“Um...”

He fumbled and dropped the carrot in his clumsy grip, grabbing it before it scattered off onto the floor at least. Looking around, the girl who had interrupted him seemed just as startled as he was. “Oh, you’re... Rutile?” he hoped he remembered.

“Um, y-yes,” She smiled he remembered her name, before pointing him to a nearby drawer. “You should use a vegetable peeler for that. Do you know how to use one? I-I can show you, if you need.”

“A vegetable peeler?” He opened the drawer, but considering he didn’t even know what to take out from it would definitely need that demonstration.

She took it out and let him see, before taking over the carrot and peeling off a couple of example strips. “Like this, see? It’s sort of like a knife, but it’s designed just for this.”

“...Oh. Heh. I’m dumb; I wasn’t even using the right thing.”

“N-No, it’s okay! If you didn’t know what a peeler was...” She handed it over so he could try.

And thankfully it was indeed about as easy as she’d made it look, even if his was still coming off in smaller flakes than was ideal. He caught her rinsing off his knife for him in his periphery so he could use it to cut up the peeled carrot afterwards, providing the vegetable survived sufficiently for such a thing. “...Uhm, I... I need to apologise to you, for how I’ve been acting since I got here...” he began awkwardly.

“Oh, i-it’s okay-!”

“No, it’s not!” he insisted over her, before flinching as he realised that was hardly kinder to her. “P-Particularly you; you’ve always tried to help me even with how I’ve acted, and you were the only one who tried to stick up for me when I set off the smoke alarm that night...”

“Well...” Rutile hesitated, a hand curled up in front of her chest. “I-I knew you probably didn’t mean to do it, so...”

“I didn’t, but...” He focused on fiddling with the patches of carrot still unpeeled for a moment, trying not to let her help with it go to waste. “Even if you’re just being polite, I still really appreciate it. I know I’ve still got a long way to go until anyone’ll want to be my friend here, so... in the meantime I really appreciate anyone being kind for any reason when I don’t deserve it.”

“Oh. Um... Okay,” she supposed she should say. “B-But I do still want to be friends, even now I mean.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes. I know you’ve just been adjusting to coming here, and it must be very different from the life you led before, so...”

He continued staring at her for a moment, before he had to turn away, “Heh,” rubbing his little nose awkwardly. “Man, you’re just too nice, y’know? Pitying a fool like me, taking out his issues on everyone around him...”

“I’m not- I don’t mean to pity you,” Rutile said, even as she picked up the carrot end from his cutting board he’d neglected to dispose of, putting it in the compost pot for him. “You shouldn’t put yourself down like that, Emizel. Especially not when you’re obviously trying really hard now to make up for things.”

“I’m just...” His knife paused, unable to find a good defence before he forced it back into chopping again. “I shouldn’t have been such a jerk in the first place...”

“Well... maybe,” she couldn’t help but slightly agree. “But at least you’re very different now. I’m still...” She drooped a little, curling her hands up like cat paws. “I-I’m still really bad at asserting myself, even though I know I need to get better at it. So I think it’s really impressive that you’ve managed to change yourself so much so quickly. I still just... Unless I’m helping someone I care about, I’m always very weak and too nervous to do anything.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” he tried to say. “Helping people is a good thing.”

“Well, yes, but... I-I think I just do things to help everyone because I’m afraid no one will want me otherwise,” she admitted quietly to him, briefly looking up to check no one else could be over-hearing. It was significant enough he looked around too, realising he was indeed the only one hearing this from her. “I don’t really know how else to get along with people. But when I’m showing Zeroken how to do things, for example... a-at least he’ll still want me around, while I’m helping him, or so I hope.”

“Or helping me,” Emizel had to point out, looking gladly at his pile of chopped carrot.

She picked out one piece that still had too much peel on it to be pleasant to eat, but, “Yes... I suppose... But I think Zeroken’s starting to get the hang of things now.” Even Emizel looked at her dubiously for that. “The way he helped Desco out- Oh, that was before you arrived here, sorry. A-Anyway, he’s so determined now to learn how to look after himself; even if he’s still got a long way to go right now, eventually he won’t need me anymore and...” She realised how all this might appear to the new boy she was now helping out. “N-Not that-! I’m not helping you because, um-!”

“Hey, chill out,” he told her kindly. “I don’t really mind why you’re helping me, I’m honestly just glad someone is right now.” As he too realised how selfish that might have sounded to the girl helping him, “Uh, I-I mean, I am super grateful and stuff! But, uh... dammit.” This was so awkward. “I-I get it, how hard it is to get people to like you and want you around.” That was his point in responding to her right now.

“Oh. Um... thank you.” What else was there to say in an awkward, little conversation like this? “I-I know you’re meant to bond over shared interests or experiences, but...”

He snorted lightly, moving on to hacking up some sugarsnaps. “I guess we both have parents in prison, but that’s hardly super fun to talk about.”

“Um, no...” She couldn’t stop herself from eventually intervening in the mess of tangled chunks, strings keeping them tied together even as his knife tried to cut them up. Taking the knife, she showed him how to notch the ends a little, then peel the strings out of both sides before cutting them up. “Though if you want to know what it’s like visiting someone in prison, I-I could tell you about that. Also, you should really wash these before cooking them.”

“Oh.” Running his messy handful of stringy chunks under a tap, “I... guess? I dunno. I wasn’t planning on visiting Pops, but maybe I should if...” he supposed he might as well admit his trouble with this too.

“Umm... Well, I think he’d be really happy if you did?” she offered. “That is, he loves you and cares about you, right? So I’m sure it would really cheer him up if you did. Prison is very boring mainly, so my mother says, so anything like a visit means an awful lot to them.”

“Huh. Hmm...” He’d still have to think on it, but at least he had someone to talk to about it. ...Although, “Um, y-you don’t just have to help me with stuff. Like, if you wanna... just talk about stuff, or- well, I dunno if we like the same games or anything but... if you just wanna play games with me, that’s cool too.” This was so embarrassingly socially unapproved to say, just stating these things outright. But when you’re dumb and desperate...

“Umm, r-really...?” And when you’re that doubtful anyone would just want to hang out with you...

“Yeah! I mean, if you want to.”

“Oh! Umm... y-yes, of course!”

“Okay then.”

He nodded. And so did she. Which was... an adorably awkward first step for them both.

~DOOD~

As much as it would have been nicer merely to keep himself to the company of the few kinder kids with a much lower bar to tolerance and friendship, sometimes Valvatorez forced classroom partnerships to teach communication and cooperation skills as much as whatever joint project being forced upon them.

Or so was meant to be the point. But paired with Laharl it was far easier merely to do as he said – At least when his demands were within the reasonable bounds of making the trilobite drawings look more impressive and intimidating, and not helping him find woodlice to staple to the paper as a similar-looking, tactile example – like a dutiful, little servant.

Though perhaps the better word would be, “Hm! Not bad. You’re much better-behaved now. Even if you’ve still got a long way to go, keep this up and I might consider making you my vassal,” the Great Laharl declared, nodding leaderly as the project continued as per his demanding instructions.

“Uh, thanks. I guess.” Emizel really hadn’t earned back enough points in everyone’s books to make a fuss about this. Still, he did want to ask, “...Why do you always use the word ‘vassal’?”

“What?” Laharl drew himself up, arms folded, that someone dare question such a thing. But, well, considering it was this particular someone... “Well, you know... Kids with fathers like ours don’t get to have friends; it’s just asking for trouble, showing you’re attached to anyone. So I figured I’d have ‘vassals’ instead. It sounds a lot more impressive anyway.”

Emizel stared at him.

Long enough for Laharl to frown back a, “What the hell are you looking at?”

“...I just meant it’s a super old-fashioned word,” he clarified.

Rather embarrassingly for the other boy. “...Th-Then say that, dammit!” He snatched up some scissors from the desk, the first thing to hand, before finding a use to pretend it was intentional by cutting away at the edges of their poster to make it more dynamic-looking. “And don’t go saying anything about that to anyone either...” he also needed to mutter out now, even if he patently didn’t want to.

“Okay.” What would not be so okay was their poster, if he didn’t stop the words near the edges getting snipped off in the crossfire. “...I’ve never really managed to have any proper friends eith- um, ever,” Emizel confessed for him, getting back to sticking on the information panels he had written out. “But that’s probably just me, ‘cause I kinda sucked to spend time with.”

“Yeah, I bet you really did,” Laharl had no problem agreeing. “...But I get if it was ‘cause you needed to so people wouldn’t treat you like shit. A lot of the suck-up jerks that used to hang around my old man would’ve treated me pretty bad behind his back if I hadn’t stuck up for myself. And people don’t always like that, especially adults who think you’re just a little kid.”

Though he did want to take advantage of the scissors pausing to pull more of the poster to safety away from their blades, “I think I was just too full of myself, really,” he confessed back honestly. “Though yeah, a lot of the adults who dealt with Father were really patronising and dismissive of me too.”

“Exactly.” Laharl gave that part of the poster one final jagged snip before it completely got away. “Sometimes you gotta act full of yourself when everyone’s trying to put you down as just some unimportant kid.” He dwelled on his own words for a moment, scissors snipping now at just air when there was nothing to actually snip. “...You got any siblings?”

“Huh? No. Why?”

“Just wondered.” Laharl shrugged. “Sometimes... When you got someone looking up to you then you gotta make sure you’re living up to how great they think you are too.” Before Emizel’s inquisitive stare could ask too much about that, “My old man always went on about how leaders have to act big to keep all the stupid usurpers in their place and give all their weak followers someone to believe in. And this place is full of weak idiots like Zeroken that need a good leader like that,” so the Great Laharl declared, folding his arms defiantly.

Emizel snorted as he thought he got the hang of playing along now. “That’s why you made him your vassal then?”

“Exactly! He’d be useless without someone like me to follow the commands of!”

Emizel hummed along, trying not to chuckle lightly.

“...Hey!” Laharl realised. “Aren’t you done sticking those on yet? Hurry up already, jeez!”

“Ah. Yeah, yeah,” Emizel said, “I’m doing it,” getting on with it like a dutiful vassal, quite happily.

~DOOD~

Artina visiting wasn’t precisely unusual, even if her busy schedule meant it wasn’t exactly usual either.

But requesting to speak to Valvatorez alone, privately?

He led her to the box room where he kept the accounts and important paperwork relating to each child. There was only room for a desk and chair, and for the two of them to speak uninterrupted in this little space behind a closed door.

“I had a couple of reasons for coming today, Mr. Instructor,” she began with the same slight uncertainty to her demeanour as the whole visit so far. Still, she perched very lightly on one end of the desk while he took the chair, gesturing for her to begin. “Firstly, I wanted to check how Fuka, Desco and Emizel are settling in; have things gotten any better with them?”

“Desco has greatly improved now we have her eating and sleeping properly, albeit with next-to-no decrease in her coping mechanism outside of that,” he reported, and she nodded along it was too early days to hope for that just yet. “Fuka is... I believe she is adjusted as much as one could be whilst still needing to similarly cling to her pretences. The other children have settled into accepting her way of things, is perhaps the better way to put it.”

Again, Artina could only nod at such progress. “I am afraid the recovery process for those two will be difficult and long, and ideally they should have far more support than we’re capable of providing here.”

He waved one hand in light dismissal. “They are of a level of problematic I now feel capable of handling, as do I believe the other children find them now; such is enough for now, while we continue working towards longer-term recovery.”

“Yes...” She sighed in acceptance as well. Because to accept was all that could be done for now with those two. “And Emizel?”

“Ah. Well,” Valvatorez was quite pleased to actually report. “Or, heading that way at least. It was a difficult start indeed, but he has come through the necessary adjustment to begin opening up to the challenge before him as an opportunity now. It will take more time to make up for his initial behaviour here to some of the children, and he still has much to learn in the form of independence skills, but the little rascal is making progress finally.”

“That is a relief.” This seemed to settle her mind even more to hear. Although it also led her to sigh, clasping her hands in her lap. “I... The other reason I wanted to speak to you today, Mr. Instructor, is because I’ve managed to get back in contact with Nemo.”

“Ah.” That accounted for her unease. And then the nervous energy in her frame, where there could have been a listless lack of hope... “Is it as we thought, his situation? Could it be helped?”

For both better and worse, she nodded along to his words. “He was off his medication, but not of his own volition; it took some time to piece together what had happened, but the assistant responsible for collecting his medication for him had been bribed to substitute them for inert placebos.” A sorry situation indeed, and she shook her head as she continued, “I’ve managed to get him back onto his medication, but I fear it may be too late; he has already authorised and signed into effect a number of things Chief Alderman Carter and Police Sergeant Vulcanus put him up to that would ruin his reputation were they to come to public light.”

Valvatorez couldn’t help but flinch slightly, covering his lower face with a hand in thought, because, “...I fear... they may well come to light, Artina; it will be necessary to reveal Carter and Vulcanus’ machinations to clear Hugo and Emizel’s names, as well as any other innocent parties that may be involved.”

Expression muted, face falling, she was forced to nod. “Yes, I think you’re right... Even if Nemo’s situation caught up in it is unfortunate...” She bit her lip. “I made sure to get the proper bloodwork tests and records of the fake pills so that his impaired mental state could be proven in court, but publically admitting his condition in the first place...”

For such a high-level judge, with the general opinion and understanding of mental illness in society being so poor... It was something one could only sigh about. “So,” Valvatorez moved along, perhaps out of kindness to her as well, “it appears Carter is in cahoots with Vulcanus, and has been manipulating other influential figures in the city, most notably Hugo and Nemo, through whatever methods suitable.” He considered with a hand to his chin, recalling all he could. “Hugo and Nemo have always worked closely, so it is possible Nemo was used to deceive Hugo into similarly signing himself onto inappropriate courses of action, hence giving them blackmail to use against him. Upon realising what was going on, at least in some part, I think it is likely that Hugo called their bluff by voluntarily letting himself be sent down before he could be further blackmailed. As for how long this has all been going on for... it must have been quite a while now they have been playing this little scheme of theirs.”

“Really? Nemo couldn’t tell me how long he thought his medication had been switched out but...”

“It pre-dates the establishment of this group home at least, I can say as much as that,” Valvatorez declared, more pieces put together in his head than he was laying out on the table just yet. “Did Nemo mention Hugo at all when you discussed all this with him?”

“Yes, he did,” she said. “At first Nemo’s paranoia extended to distrusting Hugo as well, perhaps particularly even. But now he is back to himself that seems to no longer feel such a way. I’m afraid he was so confused by the whole experience that he won’t be able to provide us any solid answers about Chief Alderman Carter and Sergeant Vulcanus’ intentions, however.”

“That is fine,” he waved it off, returning to his deep consideration. “I imagine the reason they targeted his medication of all things was to explicitly make use of Nemo’s paranoia to turn him against Hugo, and thus convince him they were the only ones he could trust instead if they seemingly played along with it. Quite the scheme really...”

While his attention was on these high-concept schemes and problems, he glanced across to see, from the deeply hurting expression on her face as Artina too dwelled, that hers was placed very differently. On those involved, most probably Nemo of all...

That she may well have feelings for him was no particularly hard fact to consider in his mind, even if it still seemed a rude time to confirm it either way.

But the thought of her living a sweet, domestic life with the man...

The thought of her living a sweet, domestic life with Valvatorez himself though... Of waking up together each morning, having to fuss and stress over the children’s needs and her patients, exposed to all the ugly and tedious sides of each other’s lives, and without respite...

Her visits and support to take when he needed it were glorious lifelines to him now, but might constant availability wear and dirty such a thing? It may well, and the value of their friendship would be too easy to accustom to with it.

To be with someone, as a partnership... should the prospect of these things not be a positive one looked forward to?

Yet when it came to Artina...

“Mr. Instructor?”

Valvatorez startled back into the moment, coughing lightly. “N-Nothing. I was merely... thinking.” She nodded, because the situation they had been talking of certainly merited much thought. “I will pass all of this along to Emizel, where pertinent; I think it will do him good to understand his father’s position more clearly, and he may have more insights on the matter if prompted.”

“Yes, please do.”

In that case, their business was concluded for now. And hence they could exit the little office, for some reason opening the closed door to a stumbling Fuka just outside, a floor wiping mop for some reason held very demonstrably in hand. “J-Just, uh, cleaning the floor, Valzy!” she said, pointing at the mop she was most definitely holding.

“Umm,” Artina hesitated to say it, but, “I think that’s the sort of mop you need to attach a cleaning wipe onto the head of in order to clean with, Miss Fuka.”

“Huh?” She stared at the mop’s head as if it was completely alien to her. “...Oh! Ohh, that must be why I was having such a hard time cleaning, Hahaha! I’ll just, uh, go get one of those wipe-y things then!” And off she ran before any further suspicions could be cast her way.

Their eavesdropper aside, Valvatorez showed Artina out for now, seeing her off at the gate.

As he watched her getting into her pink buggy of a car, ready to leave, “...I... hope things go well with Nemo, Artina,” he stepped forward to say to her, cheeks ever so lightly flushing.

She paused, pleasantly startled just a little, before smiling. “Thank you, Mr. Instructor. I hope they do as well.”

And thus he watched her drive away, her car shrinking and eventually turning away, until it was completely out of his sight.

~DOOD~

“You got a visitor, Mr. Mayor,” the guard announced with a light knocking of his fist against their cell bars, prompting Hugo to look up from his hand of cards with a dubiously raised eyebrow. “Get your ass to the visiting room already.”

“A visitor?” Hugo merely asked though. “Who is it?”

“Knuck if I should know,” the guard said, golden suit squeaking slightly as he folded his arms, impatiently waiting.

Hugo sighed, “I apologise,” laying down his cards for now as he stood. “It is probably my lawyer.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Genjuro Kazamatsuri waved it off, laying down his own cards as well. “I’ll just have to find some other way to amuse myself until you return~”

Sparing him a smile, Hugo watched his cellmate casting around for a book or something as the impatient call was heeded.

Entering the large visiting room with its many tables for guests, it was instantly obvious which one was for him; his instincts would have picked out that face in any crowd at all.

Still, he was so frozen in shock that Emizel had the chance to look round and spot him while he still hadn’t moved. That his son was the one shrinking somewhat with sheepishness about being here though...

Hugo got himself moving, crossing through the other tables of the room with their sporadic prisoners and guests, only focused on his son. Until here they were, sitting down face-to-face, just feet apart once again. “Emizel...”

Though the boy fidgeted, swallowing awkwardly, “H-Hey, Father...” he tried his best to offer a small smile, one that was genuine in his happiness to see his father, even if also somehow seeming as if he felt maybe he wasn’t wanted here.

“What are you...?” Finally looking at something in the room other than his son, Hugo naturally had his gaze land on the man sat right beside Emizel at the table. “Valvatorez.”

The other nodded back. “Hugo.”

“I see Emizel has ended up in your care then,” seemed a decent place to start while still catching up with all the emotions of the fact Emizel had actually come to see him, even after...

“Indeed. Just as you planned, didn’t you, Hugo?” Valvatorez levelled back rather confidently.

Although from Emizel’s small shock beside him it appeared there were only two of them who understood what was actually going on here. “Hmhm, I should have known you would be able to deduce as much,” Hugo congratulated briefly.

“What?” The poor lad could only look between his two parental figures in confusion. “Wait, do you two know each other? You planned for me to be sent to Val’s place, Father?”

“Valvatorez and I...” Hugo considered how to actually answer that. “Hrmm... Back after your mother died I had a lot of... emotions, aggression predominately, I wished to get out, that I could not do so around you. So I would go out at night, back to the ‘Netherworld’ streets, to pick fights to let off steam.” As shocking as that was, Emizel also looked to be piecing together a few incidents and things he had never understood all those years ago. “Valvatorez was still an older teen at the time, but I relished the opportunity to fight the famed ‘Street Tyrant’ when our paths finally crossed.” There was a flicker of that old fire still in Hugo’s eyes even now. “We fought repeatedly over a week or so of nights, and somehow it was what I needed to finally get those feelings out of my system. Although our fight never properly concluded, I can still credit Valvatorez for allowing me to realise you were the most important thing I should be focusing on in my life, Emizel, whatever may befall me.”

“That is why he approved my necessary permissions with inappropriate ease and speed when I first applied to form a group home for children,” Valvatorez could answer the other query, watching Hugo nod with confirmation. “Even though such a thing meant deliberately going against the public redevelopment plans and not-so-public agreement Chief Alderman Carter had him trapped in. Because he realised the position he had been tricked into through the trust he held in a Judge Nemo he didn’t know was unmedicated at the time.”

“‘Unmedicated’?” Even as he spoke it, pieces seemed to fall into place for Hugo. “Ah. I see... That was of their doing, I presume?”

“Yes, Carter and Police Sergeant Vulcanus were the ones who got Nemo off his medication, so that he could be used and turned against you through manipulation of his paranoia.” Much odd behaviour shifted into making sense for the other two present now. “And hence you felt the need to send your son away to safety, even if it meant lying and falsifying his involvement to ensure he would be sent to my group home for delinquents rather than a standard one.”

“What?!” Emizel looked between the two men rapidly, especially seeing his father chuckling to himself. “Wait, that’s why you...?”

“I knew I could not guarantee your safety or my freedom with the situation I was in, Emizel,” Hugo confirmed for his son. “In my absence, Valvatorez was the most trustworthy person I knew to both protect and raise you. I deeply apologise for the steps I had to take to get you into his care, and I would understand if you do not forgive me for all this-”

“No!” Emizel cut in instantly. “I mean, I was really hurt and stuff at first. But now I know all this I already forgive you, Dad.” He was embarrassed to be having such a frank discussion after so many years with too much that had gone unsaid between them, but now everything felt too important and fragile not to say anymore.

“Emizel... ...Thank you. Your forgiveness is more than I likely deserve. I wanted to tell you all along what I was doing, but I could not risk the chance of what may happen to you were things not to go to plan.”

“Yeah. I probably would’ve let it all slip by accident, if you’d told me what you were up to,” he admitted.

Well, Hugo didn’t want to agree, but he didn’t say anything to the contrary either. “How are you finding it, living with Valvatorez?” That was more important to turn to instead, with the finite time of a visit like this.

“Uhh... Wasn’t great at first.” That certainly needed to be said. “I was kind of a dick to everyone, and I hated it. But it’s starting to get better now. Val’s teaching me how to cook and clean for myself. And some of the other kids are starting to be friendly to me too, even after I was mean to them all at first.” He flinched to confess it all, but facing up to it was a part of maturity, wasn’t it?

Still, his father didn’t have to look so amused about it! “I am glad to hear that. What are the other children like?”

“They’re... a mix, I guess?” It was best to put it like that, he guessed. “The older and younger ones don’t pay that much attention to me. The ones around my age are... Well, a couple are weird, but there are some really nice ones too- There’s another girl called Rutile who has a mother in prison, so she told me what visits are like, which helped a lot.”

“We have quite a mixture of children,” Valvatorez further elaborated, “from those previously of more typical backgrounds such as Emizel, and others who grew up on the streets or allied to its gangs. Our oldest, Killia, will be 18 at the end of this month, while our youngest, Desco, has just turned 7-”

“’Desco’?” Hugo cut in. “Are you speaking of a Desco Kazamatsuri?” He apparently felt the need to check if there were multiple people in this city weird enough to have named their child that.

Valvatorez nodded. “She and her sister Fuka are in my care. Do you know them?”

“I know their father, Dr. Genjuro Kazamatsuri,” he explained. “He happens to be my cellmate here.”

“Hmhm, well, isn’t that a coincidence?” Valvatorez chuckled with amusement.

“Yeah, that’s super weird,” Emizel agreed. “Although I guess there’s only one low-security prison in this city, actually.”

“Indeed. Although...” Curiously, Hugo hesitated before deciding to continue, “we requested to share a cell, in fact; we have been... getting to know one another rather well since we met here.”

Dumb as he was, Valvatorez did eventually grasp it after a moment. “Ah. I see. Hmhm...”

Emizel was completely lost, though aware there was indeed something more in his father’s words. He was going to ask, but looking at how evasive his father seemed, as if he were talking about an embarrassing- Oh my God. “W-Wait are you-?! Are you and him...?!”

“Genjuro and I... have found we get along well.” That was sure a diplomatically way to put the fact they were fucking.

Still, considering how scandalised Emizel looked at just that admission, it seemed a necessary euphemism. “Wh-What the hell, Dad?! You’ve only been in prison for less than a month and now you’ve turned gay.”

Hugo had to chuckle at that. “‘Turned’?” And it did seem to register with Emizel that people didn’t change that quickly, along with the fact it had been proven there were many things he didn’t know about his father.

So the lad could only groan out a sigh. “I did not need to know all this...”

“In any case,” Valvatorez moved on, while the boy continued to suffer his new-found knowledge, “Carter and Vulcanus have not yet been brought to light and justice for their misdoings. And I would venture they are not the sorts to cease their evil until forced to.”

“I would agree your judgement is quite correct, Valvatorez,” Hugo said. “And with myself out of the way, I would imagine they will make their next moves soon.”

“What do you believe these moves may be?”

“I do not know, I am afraid.” He gave it some good thought though, in light of what information had been brought to him today. “Carter’s main goal has always been the control and subjugation of the downtown ‘Netherworld’ area of town, to reshape it as he sees fit. And I would imagine Vulcanus shares in such an aim, given his vocal distaste of the people who live there. Both were quite keen to take advantage of the situation with that ‘Lost’ gang over winter to enact some sort of clean-up, to take control of it to do away with all of the gangs of the area it was bringing under its control, but were not in a position to do so at the time thankfully.”

Valvatorez nodded, reflecting on... what could well have been then, had not all the pieces fallen into place that did to stop the Lost back then.

“I also wonder about those children Carter has adopted,” Hugo continued. “I hope that they are merely a PR stunt of his, but I have always feared he may have worse intentions for them.”

“Oh?”

“I could not say what.” It didn’t bear thinking about, not for a loving father at least, what someone might do with children they had no real affection for out of the public eye.

“Hmm...” Indeed, it was something Valvatorez also naturally felt a concern now, in his circumstances. “It is vexing indeed that, in this situation, we can do very little until they make their move first.” They didn’t have any access to either of them. And, unlike the Lost, they was too legitimate to deal with in similarly illegal ways.

“Yes...” And if they couldn’t, there was even less Hugo could do in his.

Even now their very time together was limited, and far more valuable to use on allowing Emizel what time he could have to be with his father before the end of the visiting session was called. Sometimes the least purposeful talk was the most valuable, at a time like this, to know the various ways they each wiled away their time now apart and whom with, to feel that bit closer to lives now forced apart.

It was enough, by the time an end was called for them, even if one would always want more time once it was snatched away.

“I’ll come again next month, Pops,” Emizel promised. “And, um, don’t worry about me; I-I’m doing okay now. I’ll be sure to make you proud!”

“Hmhm, you already have, Emizel. Very much so.”

~DOOD~

As they walked down this familiar corridor, “This is the same cell you and Killia were kept in. And Usalia before you,” Valvatorez couldn’t help but observe. And Christo could only smile awkwardly at the correction observation. “Is there some reason they always detain children in this one?”

“I really couldn’t say. I don’t have any seniority around here at all as a new recruit,” Christo said as he set to unlocking the cell door.

Valvatorez was displeased at the familiarity of walking into this one cell to meet yet another young and hostile victim of the system being dumped into his care.

This one merely scowled up at him with sharp, green eyes from the cell’s bed, ones shadowed beneath with the exhaustion of a lack of sleep, above gaunt cheeks drawn thin from weight loss.

“Kurtis Joaquin? My name is Valvatorez,” he introduced himself to the suspicious, adolescent young man. “You are to come with me into my care henceforth.”

Kurtis merely continued to scowl at him, before tracking across to Christo in the doorway. With a nod, Christo traded the encouraging signal needed for Kurtis to unfold his rather gangly limbs, weakly rising to his unsteady feet.

Valvatorez’s hands flinched to help steady the poor lad, but he couldn’t show any public caring yet, not in this place. All he could do was keep his pace slow as they headed out of the cell, Christo murmuring a soft, “Trust him,” to the departing detainee, and then headed out of the station as a whole.

“This way,” Valvatorez led him on down the street, hating to see the lad struggling so. But thankfully, “There’s a car we can take just around this corner.”

“Good...” Kurtis said somewhat hoarsely, swallowing his fatigue down for a deliberate moment to push on to that, to a respite where he could rest again.

Artina was waiting for them, and got the backdoor of her little car open in a hurry when she saw the state of the boy very much in need of her treatment after all. “Oh, how awful! Christo wasn’t exaggerating at all then – They really were depriving you of food and sleep there, Kurtis.”

“Mm.” He was glad to collapse into the back of this car of a nice-seeming, if somewhat odd, stranger. “I wouldn’t have been able to make it without that Christo guy helping me out.”

“We brought food and drinks with us, if you want them,” Valvatorez said, climbing into the other side of the back and digging them out from a bag there. “Or you’re welcome to nap on the ride back, although I’m afraid it’s not that far. And I apologise for how I had to treat you at the station, but given the power Carter and his associates hold there, it would have been ill-advised to begin any sort of discussion there.”

“Y-You know about Carter?” Kurtis asked, as he looked through the food on offer, opening up a granola bar and soya milkshake.

Artina started up the car as Valvatorez nodded. “Chief Alderman Carter and I have a... hmhm, history, I suppose you could say. He has vowed personal revenge on me, as a matter of fact.” That wasn’t something to be proud of, but he was apparently going to state it as if anyway. “But I was also warned by those others caught up in his machinations, such as Mayor Hugo, he would likely be planning something soon, possibly involving you and that other adopted child of his.”

“Jennifer...” That was enough to stop Kurtis wolfing down the food for a moment, mouth full of a frustrated melancholy instead.

“I’m sorry, about what happened to her-”

“No, she’s-!” He nearly choked for a moment, before calming back down. “She’s not dead; the news is wrong.” The two adults in the car startled in surprise, even if one of them had to keep her eyes on the road right now. “Neither is Police Captain Gordon. The location where they’re hiding out is what Carter was trying to get out of me with...” the food and sleep deprivation.

Both of which were quite obviously catching up with him now, as he polished off those snacks and looked too exhausted even to reach for more. “You can fill us in on everything later, after you’ve had a chance to recover, provided there is nothing of an emergency-level urgency right now.”

Kurtis shook his head, but that was the last action he got out before sleep claimed him, dozing off against the car interior for the rest of the ride.

It was far shorter than the chance they wished they could have given him to rest. And the two adults did discuss leaving him out there in the car to sleep once at the group home, but it was an ironic conversation that ended up waking the on-edge young man back up. At that point he may as well come in, yawning as he walked, to rest on a proper bed inside.

When it came to which bed though, “I’m afraid you will have to share while staying here, Kurtis,” Valvatorez said as he unlocked the gate to let them in. “The only bed spare is currently in Emizel’s room, but we can switch people around if either of you are uncomfortable with the arrangement.”

“Emizel? The mayor’s son?” Kurtis asked.

“Yes. Do you know him?”

“We met once. At a-” Yawn. “At some party thing Carter dragged me to.”

“Ah, I see.” Letting them now into the front door as well, “He has changed somewhat for his experiences of late; I think you will find him far more pleasant, mature company now.”

Kurtis raised an eyebrow, but there was no more time to enquire as they entered the main room where all of the kids were assembled; with only a few currently fighting, that was a testament to Killia’s ability to be able to take charge for short times when needed.

“Kurtis!” Emizel recognised him instantly. “Hey, you’re that boy Carter adopted. Man, you look like shit though.”

Kurtis could only smirk wearily at that. “Thanks.”

“Carter has been having the police mistreat Kurtis to try and force information out of him; he needs a good few days of rest and recovery now that he’s here with us,” Valvatorez explained. “Emizel, would you mind him sharing your room, as the only remaining space?”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s okay.” He got to his feet. “Should I go set up the other bed?”

“That would be appreciated,” Valvatorez agreed, while Kurtis indeed looked surprised at the other boy’s behaviour now.

“Wait, hang on, Measles,” Fuka grabbed him by the hoodie first. “You know the new guy? Dish the deets!”

Straightening his clothing back out, “I don’t know him well or anything,” Emizel said. “We just met one time at some thing my Dad dragged me to, and since we were the only two kids we were pushed together to talk. Kurtis is cool. Maybe tries a bit hard at the cool, big brother thing, but it’s fair because he knows lots of neat stuff and all.”

Well, that left Kurtis almost a little embarrassed as his new roommate headed past him upstairs to get to work, especially with all the other kids left behind staring at him now.

“If he’s Carter’s kid,” Laharl was the next to speak up now, “how do we know he’s not some sorta double agent? Maybe this is some kinda trick of his.”

While that narked Kurtis off a bit, “Kurtis’ physical ill state is very much real, Laharl, speaking as a medical professional,” Artina spoke up in his defence. “I don’t think anyone would go through something like this willingly just to infiltrate this place.”

“You’re Laharl?” Kurtis wanted to ask.

“That’s right – I’m the great Laharl Krichevskoy! You better remember that, if you want to become a vassal of mine.”

While that was adorably full of himself, “I used to hear Carter rueing your name and vying revenge when I would listen in at his office door,” Kurtis said, watching the shrimp in question puff up proudly. “It’s pretty amusing he was so easily outmatched by you.”

“Of course he was!” Laharl declared, suddenly quite warmed to their new arrival. “So, you were listening in on Carter’s plans, huh? What’s that bastard up to now – I need to squash him flat like the pathetic bug he is for daring to go against the Great Laharl!”

That was where Kurtis’ own amusement fell away, biting out instead, “We’re already too late. He arranged with the gangs for them to kidnap the other child he adopted, Jennifer, and get Police Captain Gordon killed trying to save her as an excuse to get the powers he needs to wipe the gangs out. Although in reality any who agree to work with him will be spared his little purge.”

“You said that Jennifer and Police Captain Gordon were not actually killed though, as the news reported?” Valvatorez enquired.

“I was able to work out enough of what Carter was planning to warn the two of them ahead of time,” Kurtis explained, having to lean himself against the doorframe now in exhaustion. “They still got Jennifer, but at the drop when Gordon should have gotten killed he didn’t fall into their trap. I was there and able to get the two of them out, but I got caught and falsely charged with helping the gang so Carter could...” He didn’t fancy filling in the rest of what he’d been put through in order to, “He’s trying to get their location out of me, because Jennifer and I created this AI called Thursday only we can use in order to communicate. I don’t... I don’t know what the plan is now but...”

That was evidently all he could manage for now, looking as if he may well fall asleep standing up there with the mere effort of trying to think about something so hard.

“We can sort that out when you are capable of taking action again,” Valvatorez intervened. “In the meantime don’t share that location with anyone, not even anyone here; Carter has enough cause against this place and its residents as it is, let alone if we were privy to such a fact as well.”

Kurtis tried to process the full ramifications of that, but in the end simply nodded for now.

“He will likely come after you still, even here, Kurtis.”

“I don’t care,” he declared fiercely, a surge of adrenaline supporting him for a moment. “I won’t let him... I already lost my parents and little sister, and even if... Even though he just adopted Jennifer because she was more innocent and photogenic a hostage for his schemes, she’s still like a sister to me now.”

There was a pause as Emizel came back down, reporting Kurtis’ bed was ready for him, one in which Laharl got up to come to their new resident’s side. “If you’re against Carter then you’re one of my vassals here now, new guy,” he announced with rather over-dramatic words. “And I, the Great Laharl, vow that we will get your sister back safely for you too!”

Smirking, “Thanks,” Kurtis offered back to the strange, young ally of his.

“I heard most of what you guys were discussing while I was upstairs,” Emizel joined in too. “I’ve been working on this stuff too for my father, but do you have any evidence we can use against Carter or his associates like that Vulcanus guy?”

“There will be time for all that soon, Rascal,” Valvatorez told him.

“Police Chief Vulcanus?” Kurtis did want to check though. “He came over often to see Carter, so it checks out if they were working together. Better than my initial worry they were hooking up or something,” he grimly joked. Anyway, mentally-scarring, mutual moustache mlms aside, “Yeah, I made copies and recordings and what stuff I could, I’ve got evidence.”

Nothing they could get into now though, not when Valvatorez insisted it was time for Kurtis to rest.

Artina helped him upstairs and through sorting himself out, Emizel hovering around in an attempt to be more helpful than he was actually being.

Valvatorez managed to get away from the chaos downstairs long enough to also bring in one other, very important part of proceedings. “All those staying here receive a set of matching jacket and hat, to mark our comradely family bonds,” he explained, and Emizel touched the brim of his prinny hat under his hood in illustration.

“All right,” Kurtis yawned tiredly. “What’s the catch though?” Because there had to be one with the circuitous route Valvatorez was taking in actually producing them.

“Ah yes. Simply the fact that yours are the last left in the shipment I received, and were not up to the promised standards of the rest.” While it was fair for there to be that hesitance on Kurtis’ face, what was actually produced for him were-

“Oh right. The green set,” Artina remembered, with light-hearted amusement.

Kurtis was thankfully also amused as Valvatorez set them on his dresser to be donned later. “Well, at least they match my hair.”

“It already matches the walls in here,” Emizel couldn’t help observing of the unique, stubbornly green bedroom.

“Thanks,” Kurtis still said though, beginning to lose the battle on keeping himself awake any longer.

So the three left him in peace, reconvening on the landing outside a little ways from his room. While there were not the most reassuring of sounds coming from downstairs, it was first important to briefly address the needs of their newest resident while they had the chance.

“It looks as if he’s down to only something like 70% of his normal body weight,” Artina judged medically. “Along with his sleep loss, it’s all issues that a healthy boy of his age should be able to recover from naturally in a few weeks at most; if there are any lingering problems after a month or two then let me know.”

Valvatorez nodded. “Is there anything in particular we should be doing to help him recover?”

“He simply needs lots of rest and good food most of all. And exercise when he’s up to it, after so long in that cramped cell. Simply be flexible and responsive to what he feels he needs.”

“I-I’ll try and do his chores for him, what I can at least,” Emizel spoke up. “Or, like, I’ve been keeping that room and bathroom clean for myself anyway, so I can do it for him too for now.”

“That would be helpful, yes,” Valvatorez agreed. “I’m make sure things like his laundry are seen to for the first short while.”

Emizel nodded, but a loud banging from downstairs distracted them all before he could put his opened mouth to use.

Valvatorez sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “Would you go and see to helping downstairs for now, Rascal?” Though the entrusted responsibility pleasantly surprised him, “I need to speak to Artina alone briefly,” there was also a more typical reason to it as well.

“All right.”

Once left alone, Artina couldn’t help but be curious, “What did you want to speak with me alone about, Mr. Instructor?”

“Ah... well,” Valvatorez hesitated, now he finally had the chance he’d been rehearsing many times in his head of late. “It seems possible things may become dangerous around here again now, with Carter’s involvement in everything that has sent Emizel and Kurtis here. I do not want you to be caught up in any of it, Artina, but I may need to call upon you for assistance, if you are amenable.”

“Of course, Mr. Instructor. Any time I can help you all here.” 

“Thank you,” he said, before being able to feel that wasn’t really enough, no. When she put herself on call and on the line for them so much like this, especially with all the trouble this place attracted. And for so little in return... “Honestly, thank you so much, Artina, for all you help out with here.” It surprised her to hear, which at least meant the sincerity of it came through to her. “You really- I couldn’t run this place without your assistance. And your... your friendship. Our friendship as it is...” he paused himself, but he could already feel the words that naturally wanted to come out. “It really is... one of the most valuable things in my life. A wonderful thing. And I... I wouldn’t want to change it for the world.”

Artina blinked at him a few times. Before comfortably settling into that warm smile of hers. “You’re so earnest, Mr. Weirdo. But thank you for saying that; people don’t normally make the time to say these things, and I feel just the same about our friendship.”

Valvatorez heard those words, and found himself nodding gladly to them. To the idea of their friendship continuing to exist just as it was.

~DOOD~

Kurtis started awake from a nap he hadn’t even realised he was taking, similarly startling the intruder to his room who had startled him in the first place. “Oh. Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” Killia reassured, moving to set the stack of clumsily folded clothes on Kurtis’ dresser. “Here okay?”

“Yeah.” Dragging his unwilling body to the edge and then up from his bed, “Thanks. It’s not enough I’m borrowing your clothes, but I’m also making you wash them for me as well still,” Kurtis chuckled briefly, rubbing his eyes awake.

“It’s fine.” Not that Killia didn’t see the humour in the situation too. “You’re still recovering, and Emizel isn’t up to handling that many chores by himself yet, so I don’t mind helping.”

“Still... I’ll try and make it up to you or something when I’m feeling better,” Kurtis felt only fair. “I’ve noticed you end up helping out a lot around here.”

“I guess,” Killia agreed with a smirk and hand on his hip. “I’m the only older teen here- Well, only responsible older teen here,” he amended, considering his current roommate. “There used to be another boy my age here, Christo, but he had a home to go back to once our names were cleared.”

Finally Kurtis seemed to find the wakefulness he’d been searching for. “Christo? Does he work for the police now?”

“Yeah, he’s the officer who helped you out. We met back when I was still on the streets, when he was doing a ‘practice patrol’ training himself to be a police officer by observing anyone he thought looked suspicious.” He couldn’t help but smile at the memory. “Even with everything we still ended up becoming friends, and I think it taught him a lot about what life’s like down here in the ‘Netherworld’ of town. And he certainly knows what it’s like to end up with false charges against you, so I’m not surprised he was willing to sneak you food and refuse to wake you up when they wanted him to.”

“Well, I’m glad for that then. Him and that one Virunga officer were the only reason I could deal with that, and I’m pretty sure that other guy was only decent to me because he was such a stickler to the rules.”

Killia nodded, “I think he’s mentioned the guy you’re talking about,” before looking about the room. “Is there anything else you need me to do?”

“I think I’m good. Thanks,” Kurtis said. “You’ve helped me out plenty already.”

Killia could only shrug. “I’d say it’s just because it’s good to have another guy my age here again-”

“Looking forward to having someone to help out being responsible around here?”

“Something like that.” He also continued, “But I also know what it’s like to be falsely accused of crimes you didn’t commit. And dealing with low weight and sleep issues from my hyperthyroidism. So I can’t help wanting to help, that’s all.”

“Oh. I get it,” Kurtis accepted casually. “Were you the one who advised Val on what foods to get me to put weight back on quicker, the soya protein milk and such?”

“Yeah, that was me. I just...” Perhaps he didn’t know anyone here that well yet, but somehow Kurtis still felt this degree of bashfulness on Killia was a rare sight for anyone to be witness to. “I want to become a professional cook, if I can. So I’ve been studying nutrition lately, and this seemed a good opportunity to put it to use. It’s... well, it’s easier than the cooking part is going.”

“Yeah?” Kurtis back-channelled, because he wanted to listen.

And having someone who wanted to listen... “I just... I don’t know any of these recipes and foods they talk about in books and stuff; I didn’t grow up getting to eat these things, without anyone to cook for me. And Val doesn’t have the budget for me to get all the ingredients I need to learn about, so I’m always having to substitute over half the items in every recipe I try. I wasn’t even taught how to eat using a knife and fork together as a kid, and yet they expect you to know how to zest a lemon or ‘fold in’ flour without explaining it,” Killia wanted to let it all spill out. And release a heavy sigh. “I haven’t been able to tell anyone about all this really, since I don’t want to make Val feel guilty about what he can’t do for me, or let anyone here down when they all have so much faith in me. They’re all so happy I’ve found something I want to do with my life, and so am I honestly.”

“Hm, I see,” Kurtis took in, thinking on it all. “Well, the things that you don’t know now can at least be learnt; I know how to do things like zest a lemon or fold in flour, if you need a hand as repayment for helping me out. I don’t have as much idea when it comes to the ingredients we can’t afford, but still.”

“Yeah, I know I can learn this stuff with time. It’s just frustrating, that’s all.” He naturally wanted to form a fist, and punch it into something, but kept himself calm, releasing it back to normal now. “I’m not used to having a goal like this, beyond simply surviving or learning a new martial arts move at most; I’m not used to how difficult it is to work towards something so big.”

“Ah.” Now Kurtis had to drop back down onto his bed, sitting heavily with that conversation topic. “I was always the opposite – I always wanted to be a police officer like my parents and grandfather, even though I changed my mind temporarily after the death of my family. But now, having seen just how corrupt it’s become, I can’t stand it anymore; I know my grandfather wouldn’t be proud either, if I ended up like that lot.” He was the one to sigh now, leaning back. “So now I don’t have a clue what to do with my life anymore. I could do anything... but it feels like there’s nothing I want anymore.”

“I remember that feeling. I guess being frustrated is better than that, at least.”

“Maybe,” Kurtis could only agree non-committally. “I don’t know what’s worse, to have no goals in life, or to have one you don’t feel you can reach.”

Killia made a noise of sympathising reflection. “I guess it’s like whether it’s worse to have had a good family and lost it, or to have never had one at all.” His fist curled up, but he had the control to merely hold it like that now. “...I’m still glad I met Lieze and Goldion, even if it wasn’t for long in the end.”

“It’s surprising how quickly someone can come to feel like family, isn’t it?” He was glad to watch that surprise on Killia’s face turning into a slow nod. “Sometimes it feels like I just end up dooming anyone who gets that close to me after my parents and sister, then my grandfather, then Gordon and now Jennifer... But I know better now than to give up on myself like that.”

“‘Give up on yourself’? How do- What do you mean by that?” Killia had to ask, because, “Goldion told me something like that, but I never understood what it meant.”

Settling a little more comfortably on his bed, Kurtis closed his eyes with a small smile; to bask in one’s own former folly like this... “After my parents and baby sister died, I blamed the police as my parents were officers killed off-duty by known criminals that hadn’t been stopped. I moved in with my grandfather, and started acting out against the police deliberately, showing I could hack into their police radios and outsmart them, graffiti their cars and such. Most of them considered me nothing but a criminal and nuisance, but Police Captain Gordon kept trying to get me to talk to him, to tell him why I was doing what I was. And... well, it’s complicated how, but eventually I realised the way he kept trying to get through to me was because he hadn’t given up on me. But I had, because I thought there wasn’t anything worth living my life for without my parents and sister there to see it happen.” He shrugged awkwardly about it now, to try to reconnect with such a past mindset so long since grown out of.

It was a spectre Killia still felt a shadow of the presence of too, that one could put somewhat more to peace once the words were now there for it. “...That was how I was... before I met Goldion and Lieze...”

“Pretty impressive to pull yourself out of, having grown up like that in the first place.”

That was something Killia could only shake his head fondly at. “They were the ones who pulled me out of it. ...So this Gordon did the same for you?” Kurtis nodded. “We’ll find a way to help him; everyone here helped clear my name too, and Val seems to know what’s going on with Carter better than perhaps anyway.”

“Thanks.” An understanding nod was all they needed to share, when apparently they already shared so much else it seemed. “...Hey,” Kurtis thought to ask. “¿También hablas español?”

Now finally they had something to shake Killia’s head at. “Sorry, I don’t speak Italian.”

Kurtis broke out in a light snort, because, “That was Spanish, tonto.”

~DOOD~

“I really do depend far too greatly on Killia around here,” Valvatorez sighed as he placed down a tray of half a dozen cups using one hand and four empty snack bowls pinched between the fingers of the others. Wiping his fingers clean on kitchen towel, the sight of all the birthday washing up to be done later could only make one wince. “Allowing the lad a chance to make his own birthday cake was quite enough, I can hardly expect him to help with all the clean up as well.”

“Do you want me to stay and help, Mr. Instructor?” Artina asked as she set down her load of plates beside one of the sinks as well.

“Ah, no, no! You’ve done more than your fair share merely in finding time to come over and assist with the party at all, Artina,” he insisted, already hearing the volume level in the lounge beginning to rise without an adult in the room. “I can’t have you neglecting your patients for us; I will find some way to manage, as is my proud and noble duty.”

She couldn’t help but lightly chuckle at him. “All right. But perhaps you really should consider getting an assistant around here, Mr. Instructor. For the sake of the children.”

With that final added sentence he couldn’t instantly object. Because indeed, “It isn’t fair to keep relying on the more responsible children like this, no...  Now he’s regained some strength Kurtis has also been doing what he can in managing the younger children, and they’ve quite taken to him, but...” He looked into the lounge, searching for the young man in question, yet coming up short.

“He does seem to be recovering well, and if it makes him feel better to help... Is something wrong, Mr. Instructor?”

“Ah, no...” Maybe he had just gone to the bathroom or something. And he wasn’t the only one seemingly missing from the room. Valvatorez looked out through the kitchen window to where Pleinair was stood out by the chain-link fence getting a bit of peace and quiet, staring at the city outside.

He perked up to see someone new heading out to join her, solving the mystery of where Kurtis had gone. It was a situation to consider for a moment, before he decided to turn and leave them be, even before the loud crashing from the lounge proved his decision to be the right one.

Outside was, by comparison, quiet enough for Pleinair’s ears to pick up on the footsteps walking up behind her, her and Usagi turning to check before they got too close.

Kurtis stopped there when noticed, hands held up placatingly. “It was getting pretty noisy in there for me too, but I’ll go find somewhere else quiet if you want.”

She stared at him for a moment, before shaking her head, turning back to stare out through the diamonds of the fence without paying him further mind.

He was going to take that rather ambiguous answer as consent he could stay, and join her to see what was so interesting about the empty streets outside stretching out from the T-junction she was watching. There were no cars or people coming down them, but perhaps that was the point here.

“...I still get overwhelmed by dealing with so many new people at once,” Kurtis began. “But even once I’m used to them I’m not sure if I could get used to so much noise.”

Pleinair continued to stare out without acknowledgement or reaction.

He spent a long moment thinking, before this time saying, “They’re all so noisy... it’s hard to feel like you belong if you aren’t loud and colourful like them.” Now her head twitched slightly. “I heard you were one of the first here; I bet it was quite different back then, when we weren’t all having to fend for ourselves to get what attention there is to go around.”

Her gaze dropped slightly, arms tightening around Usagi.

To say more would make the conversation feel too unbalanced towards him, so Kurtis switched to merely observing her instead. Because how did you reach out to someone who didn’t reply back, even when she might well still want to hear what you had to say?

Well, maybe she didn’t reply, but... “I imagine with ears that big, Usagi gets tired of how noisy they are even quicker than us,” Kurtis tried, falling back into rusty but eternal big brother instincts.

That did indeed get a response, in the form of her turning Usagi a little in her hands, supporting him to face her in one so she could consider that. “Usagi...” she began, before falling back to silent as she tried to find comfortable words for the rest, her other hand physically wavering with the stress of it at her side.

It was a movement Kurtis’ sharp eyes dropped to, before going back to the stuffed rabbit she always held instead. To say anything was a risk, both of not being right but also if her knowing he knew would be welcomed. Yet... “...I don’t think anyone would bully you for flapping your hands here, if it gets difficult to keep holding Usagi to stop yourself- Well, Laharl and that sort might say something the first time, but they’d shut up soon,” it seemed a risk that was worth it, to see what knowing someone else understood might do for her.

Her eyes certainly widened at the fact someone else could suss that, but a wariness kept her on that hesitant fence of actually discussing it with him.

Which was fair. “But that wouldn’t change everyone who was already mean to you in the past about it, would it?” He folded his own arms around himself. “Whenever I go to answer a question in class I still feel a hesitancy from all the kids who used to make fun of me for being too clever when I was younger; they used to call me a ‘robot’ or ‘cyborg’ for it, which I wish I’d tried to own more now, looking back.” Kurtis offered a smile, and in doing so realised how much of the talking he’d been doing.

She was staring at him thoughtfully, though something seemed to be softening about her demeanour in a subtle way. “Cyborg...” was all she said though.

“Yeah...” He didn’t know what to say to that, even faced with and slightly amused by it now. Although, it did give him the thought, “Have you ever looked into alternative and augmented communication? You know, things that can help speak for you.”

Pleinair nodded, but simply lifted Usagi to point to in further answer. “Usagi...”

That wasn’t... Well, it wasn’t a conventional form of AAC as he’d been thinking of. But maybe unconventional was what suited her then, if it was something she’d looked into and still made this decision. Maybe this was just what she chose for her life, even when other options were available. “Do you... just not like talking?”

Wordlessly, Pleinair nodded.

“That’s certainly fair.” She didn’t actually need any help. But as if a society like this could accept that. “It must get annoying, everyone trying to help you because they think you’re mute.” His hand rubbed over the back of his neck, because that included himself after this conversation.

“Mm...” The admission made her awkward though, toying with one of Usagi’s ears. “Rutile... likes to help... That’s why... friends...”

“Right.” It certainly was helpful when she would overcome her distaste to explain what needed to be made clear. But again, if people knew she could do that, and merely chose not to... Well, it would be rude to ask why someone would pick such a hard life for themself. “I guess you’ve got your reasons for your choices. And for being here, instead of with family.”

That word caused Pleinair to finally look away from him again, back out to the city beyond she’d been staring out to before. “Harada...”

Who? Family perhaps? But it seemed very much like something she did not want to talk about, even in her own way of talking. Was it difficult for her, maybe, when others talked of family? Or perhaps went through similar things to what she had? All with her being unable to even speak to explain herself or ask them to stop?

But she was capable of looking after herself, of speaking up when really necessary. So when she turned back to look at him, curious what he would say or ask her next, Kurtis just casually shrugged and let his back fall into the chain-link fence, being caught in its slight slack. “The whole talking so little is pretty cool really; maybe I should try it, but now I’d just look like I was copying you.” He glanced over, and was indeed rewarded with a small smile, even if it was one for trying too hard at this. “Maybe you’re even cooler than me.”

Pleinair simply stared at him long enough to cut through his flattery, forcing an awkward self-ruffling of his hair. But... she couldn’t help shaking her head fondly all the same. “Silly bro...”

Kurtis straightened up so keenly at that word, the wordless one between them now. He did try to find words, but after half a fruitless minute noticed they weren’t quite so alone anymore out here in the yard.

It was a realisation Pleinair made too from his attention being directed away from her, over to Seraphina and the birthday boy himself outside the back door, having what looked to be quite the fascinating private conversation. Something awkward, involving a lot of blushing, that no one else was meant to be observing.

“Hmm,” Kurtis couldn’t help a smirk though, because they were observing it. “It would be more the thing you ask someone on your birthday, not theirs, to go out with you. But this is Seraphina we’re talking about.”

“Tactless...”

Well, how could one not laugh at that?

Though one could at least attempt to keep their volume down, considering not doing so resulted in Killia and Seraphina looking round, the latter of which was overcome with a visible fury at their surprise audience.

One that, all things considered, was probably best responded to with, “Run...” Pleinair said.

“Run,” Kurtis agreed, already way ahead of her.

~DOOD~

And thus April approached its close with every bed in their little home now filled, except perhaps the space for a second in Valvatorez’s room.

Hence why Valvatorez had to stand at the closed gate, simply speaking through it to their ever-hopeful visitor, without being able to open it for her.

“But I’m a main character!” Asagi insisted. “I deserve to be sent here too! I won’t be part of the main story again otherwise!”

“I’m afraid we simply have no rooms left,” Valvatorez repeated to her. “Nor prinny clothes left to give out. Sorry.”

“Well, kick someone out then!” she demanded. “I have more right to be here than many of these other characters – Some of them had to be de-aged to fit in here, but I’m actually a teenager!”

All Valvatorez could do was shrug, because things were what they were.

“B-But this isn’t fair! I deserve to be a part of this story!”

“Well, perhaps if you’re lucky you’ll get a small mention somewhere,” he said. “I’m certain that you’ll be able to find yourself a home somewhere else.” And with that, what was there to do but turn back to the children actually in his care?

Leaving Asagi out on the street, forever itinerant, as always.

“You can’t do this to me!” she shouted after him. “I’ll make you live to regret denying me a role in this story, just wait and see!”

So she said. ...And then, after an awkwardly embarrassing wait around for nothing to happen, walked herself away.

~DOOD~

Chaos, as ever, reigned in the group home come evening when lessons were done and a dozen wild children were left to their own devices. Still, at least a couple of them could be responsible enough to look out for the others.

And look out in general, as Kurtis stepped up closer to one of the large windows, staring with a focused, increasingly frown-topped gaze.

“Hey, what’s up?” Emizel tilted back to look over his shoulder and the sofa back. “We’re nearly to the boss battle so come grab your controller again.”

“Someone’s watching us,” Kurtis answered, not looking away.

That got Emizel to pause, kneeling up as  he turned around properly. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

“What do they look like?” Etna came over rather keenly to the window, scanning to spot their observer herself.

“Silver hair, red jacket, black trousers... I don’t recognise him,” Kurtis said, not sure whether that was something to be more or less wary about in his present situation.

“Oh...” Etna deflated back down, not whom she was hoping to spot out there apparently. “Tch. Got my hopes up like a...” She wandered back off, muttering to herself.

“Someone go tell Val,” Kurtis said. “I’ll keep an eye on him here.”

“R-Right!” Rutile rushed off to do just that, as Emizel came to join Kurtis in keeping an eye on this strange man who had suddenly appeared and taken an interest in their group home.

~INSERT THE MAIN STORY HERE, DOOD!~

“Yeah, it’s been pretty hectic here today already, Pops,” from the hallway phone, Emizel watched Kurtis bring in the day’s post, leaping seamlessly over Rutile running a floor mop along the laminated planks then around stacked moving boxes, as he sifted through and called names out. “Everyone’s gonna start arriving soon for Killia and Seraphina’s big leaving party so that’s why I’m ringing earlier today. That and it’s meant to get super hot later this afternoon.”

He stood listening, untangling some of the knots that had gotten into the landline’s cord, as Usalia ran past to grab her new delivery of novelty, pencil sharpener-shaped carrot peelers.

“Oh, yeah, I guess it’s not so fun when it’s this hot and you’re stuck inside a prison,” he responded, stepping aside as Valvatorez came by with a stack of chairs from the classroom, heading for the lounge. “I’m so glad about getting to be home-schooled here instead of having to go back to that old, stuffy school next week when term starts, even if Val did make us do lessons all summer.”

He listened again, watching Killia emerge from the kitchen to crouch by his stack of moving boxes, searching through for his cake decorating set to take out.

“Yeah...” Emizel sighed, sticking a finger in his free ear to block out Seraphina’s spoilt complaints as she carried down a stack of her own moving boxes, dumping them unceremoniously right beside the bottom of the stairs. “It’s gonna be weird, leaving this place one day. I never would have thought I could get so attached to it, but... Heh.”

He smiled, listening, looking up briefly as Pleinair made her silent way past with a set of well-used party decorations for the main room.

“Yeah, hopefully I’ll be going home to live with you again when I leave, instead of moving into my own place.” At the paired sound of feet stomping down the stairs, Emizel glanced up. “Oh, is Fuka’s dad there with you? Ew, no! I don’t want to know about-! Hey, Fuka and Desco! Come talk to your dad while you’re here!” he yelled down the front hall. “Okay, I’ll talk to you again next week, Pops. I need to get going and help convince Fenrich to act in our new TikTok video. ...Oh my God, Dad, TikTok – I know you’re in prison and all but you’re not that old. No wonder I had to run your campaign’s social media accounts for you- I’m passing it over to Fuka and Desco now. Bye, Pops!”

He let Fuka wearily snatch the phone from him, she then leaning down slightly so Desco could stand on her tiptoes and get her ear to it as well. “Dad? You there?”

“Daddy!” Desco cheered, tucking her 3DS away in her pocket.

Emizel walked away as Fuka began their loving conversation with, “What the hell, Dad – I can’t believe you’ve still left us stuck here instead of coming to pick us up! How much longer is your work going to take?” not needing to walk far before more footsteps descended the stairs together with-

“Oh come on! You’re the only one who looks like a big brother to any of us, Fenrich bro!” Zeroken pleaded, hurrying to trail after Fenrich’s fast stride.

“How hard do I have to punch the word ‘no’ into those useless ears of yours for it to go in?” Fenrich snapped back, swinging round from the bottom of the stairs to head for the kitchen if he hadn’t tripped straight into three stacked boxes of Seraphina’s clothes placed right in the way. “Damn bitch, I told you to put your crap in the corner of the hall!”

The shout received no reply, and Fenrich didn’t bother waiting for one as he merely kicked the boxes back into the same place he had tripped over them for the next person to.

“It’s literally one line, that’s all,” Emizel backed Zeroken up, stepping well out of Fenrich’s way however.

“I’m not doing it!” Fenrich snapped over the sound of the front gate opening outside.

“I better get the door in case it’s Laharl,” Emizel ducked away.

Zeroken kept the pressure up as he pursued Fenrich, “Aw, come on!” whining all the way.

Emizel opened one half of the double front doors, startling slightly someone was so close on the other side. “O-Oh, it’s you, Jennifer.”

“Aw, you aren’t pleased to see me, Emizel?” she smiled, of a teasing lilt to her voice.

“It’s not- I was just expecting someone else, th-that’s all!” Emizel backed up so quickly he was in another room before she could say more. Sighing hard, “Dealing with girls is scary...”

“What’s going on, Jennifer?” Captain Gordon stepped in behind her, scanning the corridor for miscreants.

“I’m fine.” Honestly, this man... It was sweet of him to be so ridiculous for her.

Sliding the door shut behind their newly-arrived group, “Everything all right, Captain?” Christo asked.

Gordon huffed, unwilling to let it go as Jennifer headed into the main room. “I don’t know that I trust all these juvenile delinquents around my Jennifer...”

“Not even a graduated delinquent like myself?” Christo joked.

“A-Ah, I didn’t mean-!” he blustered. “You were only ever here under false charges, Constable Lamington! Although, you do hang around with unsavoury characters like that ‘Red Magnus’ fellow too often for my liking...”

Showing Gordon in to where they could find seats for the party, “He helped Killia and I when we were out on the streets, and he’s a useful informant,” Christo said.

“He’s still a gang overlord.”

“You’re just put out you don’t know what a ‘jabroni’ is, aren’t you?”

Gordon sulked as he dropped into one of the slightly undersized classroom chairs, “He’s never called me that...” failing to hide his pettiness from his subordinate officer.

Christo chuckled, looking over his shoulder before he sat out of the large windows lining the room, “Looks like we weren’t the last to arrive after all. I had better go help.”

Making his way back to the front door, Christo held it open just in time to allow the party’s final guests through.

“Keep your arms and legs in, and duck when we go through doorways – And don’t wriggle so much, damn it!”

“I’m not made of glass, big brother!”

Following through second, “Isn’t it exciting, Christo! Laharl finally got to bring his little sister home for the first time!” Flonne squealed, dragging Etna’s hand she was holding up into the air with her cheering.

“It’s only for one night, Flonne,” Etna reminded her, pulling their held hands back down.

“I know!” Yet love remained undaunted. “But I’m just so happy for them!”

Shaking her head at her girlfriend, “You’re so weird... You got everything okay back there?” Etna asked over her shoulder to Artina.

“Yep!” The last and final guest behind the girls, “Don’t worry about me; there’s a lot of stuff but it’s not that heavy,” Artina carried in the large medical bag, all of them heading after the ones who needed it.

“Move your ass, Zeroken!” Laharl yelled, navigating around the packed-in furniture; “that’s the best sofa, and you’ve got the softest spot on it!”

“Sorry, bro!”

“And get the best cushions for Sicily too – Who stole them?!”

“Big brother!” Sicily’s small fists thumped against his shoulders. “Stop making such a fuss! You’re being rude to everyone!”

“Hey, shut up!” he said, crouching to set her down from his back onto the softest spot very carefully. “They’re my vassals, and that’s their job to do as I say!” He held on a few extra seconds when her weight had lifted off him, slowly inching himself out from her newly settled position. “Now stay there – And put these around you,” he said, taking the room’s best cushions Zeroken and Rutile had brought over for him.

“I don’t need this many cushions! I’m going to drown in them!”

“The doctors said to make you as comfortable as possible,” Laharl insisted, stuffing them in around her. “So stop wriggling and be comfortable, damn it!”

“I don’t need cushions to be comfortable, big brother; I’m comfortable just being home with you,” Sicily insisted, but she gave up fighting him on the cushions nonetheless, preferring to turn her gaze around the frantic mess of the large room. “This place is just the best – It’s so messy!”

“You like the fact it’s a total dump?” Etna snorted lightly.

“Mm! The hospital is always so clean.” Her large, red eyes latched onto all the food bowls, the games consoles, the battered decorations and chattering people. “This place feels like an actual home! I’m so happy I get to be here with my big brother!”

Laharl started as if he’d been hit hard by such loving words, looking around for anything else to focus on. “Th-That’s... You need food and something to drink! What do you want? I’ll get you the best food we’ve got!”

“I’m happy to try anything,” She looked over all the bowls and plates of food already starting to get laid out, so many special types of party food you simply didn’t see at a healthy hospital always feeding its patients on a budget, “but not too much just yet. People have cake and ice cream and other special foods at a party, right? I want to have room to try all of them! And I don’t want to get too full to play games!” Sicily began bouncing in her seat slightly. “I want to join in with all the games too – Don’t make me sit out just because you think I’m weak, big brother!”

“I won’t, I won’t, jeez!”

“And- And I want to stay up late! I can stay up a little late, right?” she asked excitably. Before stopping bouncing suddenly, staring into space for a moment, falling quiet.

Laharl was there in an instant, “Hey, what’s wrong?” hands up ready to fret and fight whatever it was.

Artina swooped in with a more sensible steadying hand on Sicily’s shoulder, looking into her face. “Are you feeling faint, Sicily? You’ve gone pale.”

“Mm... I’m kinda...”

“It’s okay,” Artina reassured her, moving to intervene on instinct before stopping herself, turning to Laharl. “Laharl, come here and support her while she leans forward so she can get her head down to her knees.”

“R-Right.” His clumsy hands were nowhere near as suited as a gentle nurse’s, but they were the hands of family, the only family either of them had now.

Meanwhile, “Sicily, can you try and tense up all the big muscles in your arms and legs for me?” Artina coaxed. “I know you feel weak, but it’ll get your blood pressure up which will help.”

It was an awkward moment for everyone else, hardly able to chatter frivolously while a young girl was unwell in their presence but also unable to help either, simply stood or sat around the room waiting on this uncomfortable scene. Though it was a chance to get the most of the party food and remaining decorations set up for something to do, everything finally in place now.

It passed the time until, after a couple of false starts, Sicily was finally able to sit back up properly, energy rather deflated but at least smiling again. “Thanks, big brother.”

“J-Just don’t get so excited again, damn it...” Laharl brushed it off.

And so slowly a degree of ease could creep back into the room, with Artina at least sat beside Sicily for now.

“I’ll need to go back to my clinic at some point to check on Nemo and my other patients,” Artina clarified in forewarning, “but otherwise I’ll stay here tonight just in case, okay? Nemo can call if there’s any emergencies I need to see to.”

“Thank you, Artina,” Sicily said, cheer readily restoring into her face now. “You’re really kind.” Now her attention could turn outwards again, enjoying the sight of the party really getting into full flow. “All your matching clothes are so cute, big brother – I wish I had some!”

“No they’re not, they’re dumb!” he insisted, despite making zero effort to remove his prinny hat or jacket all the same.

“They’re not, they’re super cute!”

“They might be a little big,” Killia spoke up from behind her, able to come in while the cake completed its last few minutes setting its decorations, “but you’re welcome to mine after I leave.”

“Really?!”

“Ah, actually, I’m afraid that can’t be done,” Valvatorez had to intervene, catching the small group’s attention. “Killia and Seraphina, I need your prinny clothes back after this party to launder ready for our two new arrivals coming tomorrow.”

“You’re getting new kids already?” Killia asked, somewhat surprised at the very quick turn-around speed.

“Who are they?” Laharl demanded to know.

“Hmhm, it’s a surprise,” Valvatorez chuckled darkly, before brightening ridiculously; “I know absolutely nothing about the two of them either!”

“Mr. Instructor...” Artina had to ask, “are you sure you should be taking in two children you know absolutely nothing about?”

Overhearing the conversation from the other sofa, “New kids, huh?” Kurtis remarked, considering the possibilities. “Well, at least we won’t be down on numbers for the competition with La Pucelle orphanage next week.”

Emizel snorted lightly. “You actually care about that?”

“Hey, it may be done but that’s no reason to let them beat us.”

“You just care about beating Croix, don’t you?” Emizel said, smirking now.

“N-No, it’s just- It’s not like you aren’t competitive with that Culotte boy too,” Kurtis defended, turning his face up slightly so any blushing along the length of his nose wouldn’t be as visible.

“Maybe,” Emizel would concede, “but it’s not like with the two of you.”

Kurtis tried to shrug it off. “We’ve both staked our reputations on being the ‘cool one’, that’s all. I’ve been on the back-foot since Croix took up vaping, but I’ll show him once I get Fenrich to teach me how to ride a motorbike.”

“Oh my God,” the other boy rolled his eyes so hard they practically hurt, “just hurry up and fucking kiss him.”

Kurtis practically squawked with indignation, especially as Jennifer and Fuka dropped into the sofa on the other side of him to get in on this excellent teasing opportunity.

Watching them from over on the chairs, “Relax, Captain,” Christo couldn’t help but chuckle, watching Gordon’s leg bounce up and down with stress. “We’ve got the day off unless there’s an absolute emergency.”

“I know,” Gordon pouted and whined, “but the Sergeant’s going to be back on my case first thing tomorrow – I lose one button on my uniform and I know it’ll be like the end of the world to him! It’s not fair!”

“Hmhm, I know Virunga’s always been a stickler for the rules but I’m sure one single button can’t be that bad; he might not even notice it.”

“That’s true...” Gordon supposed. “It is only the button holding up my trousers, after all.”

“Ah...”

Thankfully came the saving grace of cake at that point, cutting short the conversations of those assembled. Everyone gathered to admire the white chocolate leaving cake decorated for Killia and Seraphina, and the...

“...Please tell me that doesn’t also taste of sardines,” Etna recoiled anyway from the sardine-shaped crime against cake set down on the centre table.

Killia chuckled. “It’s just blue food colouring in the icing; the cake underneath is plain vanilla.”

Still... there were quite a number of unconvinced faces around the room about taking a slice of the... uh...

“What is that cake for, Killia?” Valvatorez had to ask.

The cook in question merely smiled, looking to Artina. “Hmhm, don’t you know, Mr. Instructor?” she asked. “It’s been a whole year since you first opened this home- Well, thereabouts.”

“It has?” Valvatorez staggered slightly at the thought, before reflecting on those equally balmy summer days of frantic cleaning late last summer, right around... “My, my... A whole year already...”

“Amazing this place is still in one piece,” Emizel commented.

“And that no one’s ended up in the hospital, aside from Zeroken,” Kurtis added.

“You’ve already managed three graduates as well,” Christo added on a more positive note, pushing up his own glasses.

On that note, “Who are we able to get rid of next?” Fenrich asked.

“Ah...” Valvatorez considered. “Well, Kurtis will turn 18 in January, so will be the next to leave independently. But Hugo is scheduled to be released next Spring, so Rascal may well beat him to it.”

“Tch. Of course it’d be two of the less annoying ones...”

“Hey, our dad’s gonna come pick us up any day now, Valzy!” Fuka cut in. “Don’t forget about that!”

“Yes, yes.” Entertaining the pretence was second nature by now, even if it left a few of the less familiar in the room confused. “In any case!” With a clap of hands, Valvatorez drew all attention to this moment. “Here we all are together, old and new, resident and associated! Together to celebrate-” Quite the insistent knocking came from the front door, “-one whole year of comradeship-!”

“Door, plip!”

Valvatorez tutted, a hand on one hip. “Really now, just as I was getting to- Fenrich, you take over for me.” As leader and technically responsible adult, it was his duty to go and see whom their rude interruption was.

Leaving Fenrich staring at his audience, and them all staring at him. “...I don’t particularly like any of you, so I’m glad to see two of you leaving, even if he’s useful and not who I would have picked to get rid of,” he said. “And frankly, I’m amazed any of you have managed to put up with each other for a whole year-”

“-and I’m dreadfully sorry; I know the appointed handover date was tomorrow, but I simply cannot take care of these two for one moment longer.” The interruption at the front door upgraded itself to being a full-on intrusion as it now came walking in. A tall and elegant man in sparkly gold yet old-fashioned businesswear with cowboy boots, looking for all the world like a gay Geography teacher in a mid-life crisis, dragging in by the literal ear a feral-looking, white-haired boy hissing and struggling like a cat. A short, pink-haired girl also came in with them, strutting better than all the catwalk models alive put together. “I’m afraid you’ll have to take these two a day early,” the man insisted.

“Hey, what’s the big deal?!” the struggling boy said, failing to pull himself free just yet. “All I did was some experiments – It’s not like you need all of that make-up!”

“Q-Quiet you! Just the make-up would have been one thing,” the man insisted, trying to regain some dignity here, “but what you did to my poor roses as well... Oh!” An effeminate dandy simply shuddered to recall, apparently.

“So what?!” The boy finally pulled himself free, rubbing his ear now. “You don’t have to drag us all the way to this place; just hand us over to that senior class housemaster bitch.”

The man sighed. “If I hand you over to Ms. Salvatore, with her habit of shooting Nerf pellets at misbehavers, the air there would be composed of nothing but foam.”

“Yeah,” the girl backed up, “considering SOMEONE MAO just got us kicked out of even Bigstebowski’s care, and he’s, like, the most bullyable teacher on campus.”

“Yes, thank you, Miss Beryl...” This apparently long-suffering man was forced to sigh again. “And once more, my name is ‘Master Big Star’, not-”

“B-Beryl?” Rutile stood up, leaving Master Big Star once again ignored by all. “Is that you?”

“No way, Rutile?!” Raspberyl skipped towards her, struggling even to lean on the sofa back at her titchy height. “Do you live here?! Are we gonna be housemates?”

“Y-Yes, I do. I haven’t seen you in years, since I used to go to school!” Rutile equally delighted in the reunion. “If you’re staying here, you’re going to really like it – We have our own vegetable garden for growing our own food in, and daily exercise classes, as well as helping out with Artina’s charity initiatives sometimes. Oh! And we all get matching outfits too!”

“You do all that here?” Raspberyl said, ignoring Mao’s protests of abhorrence behind her, before putting a scheming little hand to her chin. “Dang, I’m gonna have to really step it up to stand out here...”

“You can’t leave me here!” Mao had meanwhile taken up with Master Big Star, yanking on the man’s sparkly coattails. “Exercise, vegetables, matching outfits – This place is a nightmare!”

“Well, you don’t have a choice I’m afraid, Master Mao,” Master Big Star did oh-so-delight in telling him. “Your legal guardianship has now been signed over to Mr. Valvatorez here.”

“What?! Damn it!” Angrily, Mao swung his gaze around to find this so-called- “Wait, Jennifer?!”

While she herself smiled at the recognition, Kurtis couldn’t help a sharp-eyed side-eye at the new boy. “You know him?”

“Mao and I were on the Pringer X enrichment programme for gifted students a few years back. Hm,” she reflected, “I guess you must have been too old or something. Anyway, it’s good to see you again, Mao.”

The feeling was apparently... well, Mao sure was staring at her. And then pushed up his glasses, leaning in closer. “Wow...! You’ve developed so much in just a few years, incredible...! I have to research this!”

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?!” Her foster-brother looked practically ready to vault the sofa, with Gordon not far behind him.

“Mao!” Raspberyl objected first though. “I can’t believe you!”

“The research would be for you, idiot!” he defended himself. “You’re the one who’s always complaining about being small and underdeveloped!”

“That’s-! You know I have a growth hormone problem!”

Well, apparently these two new residents could pick a fight with each other all by themselves, no assistance from the current residents needed. Little fists flew and teeth chomped down on skin, a self-contained brawl almost cartoon-like in its neat chaos.

It seemed such a natural and easy thing for the new duo that, “You two are dating?” Fuka could suss with good certainty.

Pulled apart by Master Big Star’s intervening hands, “We’re fiancés, actually,” Raspberyl explained. “Our parents set us up in an arranged marriage when we were really young.”

“You’re going to marry him?” It had to be asked. “Him?” Twice even.

“Are you sure an arranged marriage is what you want?” Artina also had to check, a little concerned.

“Yeah, why not?” Mao shrugged, tugging himself free and making the weakest of efforts to straighten out his clothes. “She does my cooking and cleaning for me, and I get sex out of it.”

“Ugh. Thanks, Mao.” That was the sort of thing Raspberyl just rolled her eyes about, apparently. “It’s fine. Someone’s gotta look after this idiot.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good reason to marry someone...” Artina had to say.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Fenrich said, slightly smirking and pointedly fiddling with his black silver ring on one hand as he let his gaze look sideways to the man stood beside him.

“Excuse me, Fenrich?” Valvatorez parried back to his husband, a camp hand glinting with an identical ring placed on one hip.

“Anyway,” Fenrich continued, returning to these new children, “do we have to take these two? They seem above average when it comes to being annoying.”

“I’m afraid it’s been agreed and formalised,” Master Big Star said, with a great degree of pleasure. “Miss Beryl really isn’t so bad. It’s only this one,” Mao looked ready to bite the finger being pointed at him, “that you need to watch out for.”

That looked to be a sentiment most in the room were already way ahead of him on.

“Ah well!” Valvatorez simply said anyway, clapping his hands together. “The two of you are now members of our family, whether you and we like it or not.” Mao’s expression voted for ‘not’. “Killia and Seraphina, if you wouldn’t mind passing over your prinny hats for now; keep your jackets, and I’ll wash them after you’re gone.”

“Quite gladly,” Seraphina got up to remove her hat, the one that she had still worn nearly the entire time she was here anyway, that she... maybe hesitated a little in finally taking off, and handing over to this new, pink-haired girl in her place. Still, at least seeing Raspberyl so excited to receive it eased the transition somewhat.

“Here.” Killia also offered his hat to their new inductee, ready for Mao to join this home of theirs and all of the extended ‘family’ that had formed around it currently gathered here in this room-

“Absolutely not!”

Killia stared down at the poor prinny hat that had been slapped to the floor, unsure what to do.

Valvatorez stepped in though, picking it up to straighten out neatly. And then force down on Mao’s fluffy head for him.

Lifting his head and the brim just enough to glare at this fool of a man, “I’m going to be your worst nightmare,” Mao warned him, every bit of intent necessary behind those words to make sure they came true.

“Hmhmhm,” Valvatorez chuckled, “I look forward to it!”