What's that? Six months since the last update? We'd better do something about that. :3
(You know the drill by now - updates should be landing every Sunday unless something catastrophic happens. I'm sitting on about 25k of finished work, so I should be good for about a month. Enjoy!)
-----
“I said I’m fine, dad.”
Mokou held the phone to her ear with her one good arm - the one that didn’t send a jolt of pain up her shoulder every time she moved it. Technically she should have taken a sizable dose of morphine to help with that, but she’d never been a fan of medicine she didn’t produce herself.
“You don’t sound fine,” answered a gruff voice on the other end of the line. “You haven’t been getting yourself into trouble again, have you?”
“No! No, of course not.” Mokou sat upright in her hospital bed and immediately regretted it as another dull ache rushed along her spine. She held back a growl of pain for fear it would give her lie away. “I’m just having a sleepover with some friends for a few days.”
“A sleepover?” Mokou could almost feel her father glaring at her over the phone line. The silence that followed was almost as painful as her injuries, carrying on for what felt like forever.
At last, a grunt of resignation echoed through the line. “Well, alright. You’re a young woman now, so I can hardly judge how you live your life. Just give your old man a warning once in a while, alright?”
Mokou nodded. She’d have sent him a message earlier, but she’d only recently recovered enough to hold a phone without half of her muscles complaining about it.
“Sure thing,” she answered. “And...well, sorry for worrying you.”
“It’s fine, Mokou.” For a moment the voice on the line grew softer. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”
The Siren stuck her tongue out. She considered poking fun at her old man, but giving him more reasons to be annoyed with her seemed like a bad move.
“Anyway, I’ve gotta run.” Mokou said. “Goodnight, greyhips.”
As she folded her phone over, Mokou could already feel another pair of eyes locked onto her.
“Greyhips?” Sango said. “What sort of nickname is that?”
“Oh, shut up. I’m sure you’ve got a silly name for your old man, too.”
Sango rolled her eyes. “I wish. The only name my dad answers to is ‘sir’.”
“...Seriously?”
“Imagine having a dad that’s also your boss.” Sango puckered her lips, staring up at the ceiling. “You can imagine how awkward family dinners were.”
Mokou pondered the idea for a moment. ’Pass the salt, sir’. ‘May I be excused, sir?’ ‘So how was work, sir?’ She began to wonder if Sango’s relaxed nature was a subtle act of defiance.
“He never even let me help out after I joined the Pearl. The only reason he let me come out here was because no-one else fit the job,” Sango continued. “Most of the White Pearl are old fogies now, and they figured the Sirens would get on best with a girl my age. If it wasn’t for that, I’d be out doing patrol work miles away from any real action.”
Mokou leaned over towards Sango, ignoring the stinging pain in her spine. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I think you’re the friendliest dolphin I’ve ever met.”
Sango frowned. “That’s pretty faint praise.”
“I make a habit of being honest.” Mokou’s smile faltered slightly. “For real, though, you shouldn’t be so harsh on your old man. He probably doesn’t want you to get hurt, even if he’s too proud to admit it.”
“You think so?”
“Trust me, I’ve got some experience in that department. It took a lot of pestering for me to pull old greyhips out of his shell.”
Sango giggled at the nickname as if it were a joke all on its own. The tension in her shoulders began to fade.
“I suppose family is like that, huh?” she said. “Even if they don’t see eye-to-eye, they’ll always look out for each other.”
Mokou nodded. “Yeah, something like that.” Without thinking, she turned her attention to the curtain that split the room in half. “Even those two.”
Sango followed Mokou’s gaze, her eyes twinkling with understanding. There was no need to name names; both of them had heard the bickering echo through the hallway.
“I don’t understand what happened,” Sango said, a hand on her chin. “They looked like they were getting on so well...”
“They were still high from finding each other,” Mokou answered as she fell back into bed. “Now they’ve had a chance to get to know each other, and they don’t like what they see.”
“Shouldn’t we get them to stop fighting?”
Mokou shrugged. “It’s not our place to interfere. Besides, I get the feeling a chance to vent their frustrations is exactly what those two need.”
Sango seemed tentative, but finally nodded in acceptance. “Right. You humans have a saying about that, don’t you? ‘Blood is slicker than water’ or something.”
“It’s ‘thicker’, Sango-san.”
“Ohhh. I was wondering why it didn’t make any sense.”
-----
“Sakuyaaaa, where are you?”
Remilia groaned on the other side of the line. It was rare for the young girl to act her age, Sakuya thought to herself. She made a note to disappear more often.
“Apologies, milady. I’ve been...preoccupied for the last few days.” She rubbed at the side of her head, at the still-raw mark where Rin’s kick had struck her. The danger had passed, but every few minutes she would be struck by a dizzy spell that made it difficult to stand. Coming back to work in that condition was not an option.
“Patchy says she’s got plans for you when you get back. Something about burning you at the stake.”
“I’m sure she does,” Sakuya said with a chuckle. “How’s Flandre?”
Another grumble. “I haven’t seen her all day. She’s been working with that Kirisame woman every waking moment. I’ve been passing the time trying to teach Meiling how to play chess, but she’s having trouble grasping how en passant works.”
In the background, Sakuya could hear the door guard murmuring about how Remilia was making up rules as she went along. The look on her face had to be priceless right now. It was a shame Sakuya wouldn’t get to see it.
“Anyway, make sure to come back to the mansion as soon as you’re available. I’ve been trying my hand at making tea in your absence, but I’ve yet to make a brew as well-balanced as yours. What’s your secret?”
“If I told you that, you wouldn’t have a reason to employ me, would you?.” Sakuya stuck her tongue out, forgetting herself for a moment. “Goodbye, milady. I’ll see you soon.” She hung up, flopping backwards onto her bed and sighing.
Youmu’s eyes hadn’t turned away from her for the entire phone call. The swordsman was staring straight at her, her expression heavy with disdain.
And now we’re back to this again, Sakuya thought. Youmu had been like this since they’d been ‘admitted’ into the hospital. Her glare carried an overpowering tone of holier-than-thou, like a schoolteacher punishing a misbehaving pupil. It wasn’t the first time Sakuya had been given that look, but she hadn’t expected it from her own sister.
Sakuya had learned from experience that there were two ways she could react to this. She could ignore Youmu entirely, or stir up the swordsman’s emotions and start a fight. She knew that arguing with Youmu would lead to nothing but trouble - but putting down the goody-two-shoes was too cathartic for her to resist.
“Oh, come on. You aren’t still mad, are you?” Sakuya rolled her eyes. Youmu’s glare only grew more intense as she sat up in the bed opposite Sakuya.
“How can you talk like that, Miyo?” Youmu sounded hurt, almost offended. “You broke into the Institute’s offices illegally. You were ready to kill a woman in cold blood.”
“A murderer, I’d like to clarify.” Sakuya raised a single finger to emphasise the point.
“It doesn’t matter. Murder is still murder.” Youmu growled, a flame flickering in her eyes. “You were so much kinder when you visited me. Was that all an act?”
“It was because I knew you’d overreact like this.” Sakuya tried to box her ears with her pillow. “Look, can we leave this discussion for later? I’m getting a headache.”
She couldn’t hear Youmu’s response, but the curled-up brows and wild hand gestures got the point across. Of course there was no headache, though Sakuya didn’t doubt that if she listened to her sister for long enough all the blood vessels in her brain would burst in unison.
All that training’s made her brain gone soft, Sakuya thought to herself. She’s so obsessed with honour that she can’t bring herself to make anything resembling a difficult choice.
It was a logical line of reasoning from where Sakuya was standing. She didn’t understand why Youmu couldn’t grasp the idea - there were no complex moral questions or difficult concepts to understand. There was simply what had to be done.
The world’s not as black-and-white as she thinks it is. Sakuya sighed. But how do I get her to understand that?
“Look, Youmu...” Reluctantly, she pulled her head back out of the pillow and faced forward again. “I’m not going to claim I’m some pariah of justice. But right now, I can’t afford to be. The Black Claw isn’t going to play fair, so neither can I.”
Youmu’s glare was as intense as before. “So you’re willing to stoop to their level, then.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“But it’s what you meant.”
And just like that, the argument was over. Sakuya grimaced. Their fights never seemed to end in one side admitting defeat. As usual, both girls looked away and stared intently at anything that wasn’t each other.
Sakuya buried her face in her pillow. These fights felt like a sugar rush to her - they gave her a brief euphoria, only to send her crashing down soon afterward. Youmu was her sister, the one she’d spent years hunting down. Was this honestly the right way to treat her?
She wrestled with the point in silence, refusing to let Youmu see her hesitate. Now her head really was starting to hurt.
Forget it. I’ll think this over when I’m not stuck in a hospital bed.
The world went hazy, and Sakuya felt her consciousness slip away again. It was a welcome reprieve.
In her dreams, everything was so much simpler.
-----
The hideaway was horribly cramped. Over the last few days he had undertaken some research, examining the length of the building to find a spot where he could stretch his arms out without hitting a wall.
No luck so far.
Rinnosuke Morichika cursed. He owned penthouses with attics larger than this. It was like the last decade of toil and struggle had never happened, and he was back at the bottom rung of the ladder of life.
And if the lack of space wasn’t enough, the tedium had been wearing away at his sanity. He considered himself an educated businessman, but there wasn’t room here to store even a fraction of his collection of books. He’d turned to television to cope, but the plights of the common man felt horribly beneath him.
At last he retreated onto the internet, that delicious miasma of anonymity. He poked at the sites of the CIA and MI6, going as far as he could while remaining on the right side of the law. The secret services fascinated him - in his opinion, the only difference between their business and his was that they had the gall to claim they were a force of good. Rinnosuke would never resort to such rhetoric - he was out for himself, and so was everybody else.
But prodding at the black suits could only offer so much fun. Rinnosuke was not a hacker, and with nothing but a monitor and a keyboard there was only so much he could accomplish. There was a barrier between him and the rest of the world, a plastic bubble that was slowly suffocating him. He’d had no visitors other than a daily delivery of fresh food, and he hadn’t stepped out of the house in weeks.
The worst part was knowing that he had done this to himself. He’d made sure to keep this hideout a secret from everyone beyond his upper echelon of associates. It was a last resort, only to be tended to when Rinnosuke couldn’t afford to be found by the authorities.
He had been scared - no, concerned. Fear was not an emotion Rinnosuke would allow himself to feel. Even in the knowledge that another agent of ‘justice’ was sniffing at his trail, and that she was coming dangerously close to a breakthrough.
Sumire Raikoji, he thought to himself. It’s her fault that I’ve been reduced to this.
He hadn’t even cared about her to begin with. She wasn’t the first young gun to try and bring the law down on him. If he had just fed her a little misdirection earlier, she wouldn’t have been a problem.
But Rinnosuke had underestimated the young lawyer. Her senses were sharp, and her instincts unnervingly accurate. She had picked on tiny details, following them as far as they would go. She had put together the skeleton of a case against him - and at the rate she was working, the police might be out to arrest him within the fortnight.
She wasn’t working alone. There was no way a newcomer like Sumire could be so observant. She had an accomplice, someone with a few years of experience under their belt. They’d been clever enough not to investigate the case for themselves, sending an underling to gather the facts in their stead. Sumire was merely a pawn, but the king controlling her was out of Rinnosuke’s reach.
The reasonable plan was to wait. He knew that. If he hid for long enough Sumire would assume he’d fled the country, and eventually he would be forgotten. But that could take months, even years, and he would have to endure it in what was effectively solitary confinement. Perhaps his body and mind would survive, but cowering like a rat for so long would be a grievous injury to his pride.
Rinnosuke made a choice he’d been pondering over for days now. He pulled up a window on the computer, logging into a private server. It was something one of the tech-heads had installed months ago, but until now he’d never had a good reason to use it. His fingers were slow and careful across the keys as he entered his password, signing in under the username Kourin.
It was a beautiful system, now that he saw it. The server was indirectly connected to the email accounts of dozens, maybe hundreds of operatives. The mail it sent would be passed through half a dozen proxies, making it nigh-untraceable. It was a fast yet covert way to send an order across the city, even if he couldn’t make it in person.
Yes, a wonderful setup. A shame the engineer had to start questioning his morals by the time payday rolled around. They still hadn’t pulled him out of the ocean, Rinnosuke thought to himself.
With a firm resolve, he started to write up a letter. He chose his words carefully - just vague enough that in a court it could be argued that they were harmless, but strong enough that no-one could possibly miss his actual intent.
Time to teach you a lesson, he thought to himself as he pressed the Enter key. Don’t push out a pawn if you aren’t willing to play a gambit.
The email went on its way, traversing Gensouto faster than Rinnosuke could blink. He leaned backwards into his chair - at least, as far back as there was room for. With any luck, this would bring the investigations against him to a definite halt. He reached into a minifridge at his side, pulling out a bottle of champagne he’d been saving for a special occasion.
It slipped out of his hand when he heard the door knock.
Rinnosuke’s body went rigid, animal instincts flaring up. It wasn’t time for his daily grocery delivery. Marketers had explicit orders not to stop here. He’d warned his associates to stay away on pain of death. So who did that leave?
“Morichika. It’s me.”
Oh. Of course. Her. In the heat of the moment, Rinnosuke had forgotten she existed. His pulse slowed to a brisk pace as he tip-toed towards the door, looking out the peephole to be safe. He saw a woman in a long black dress, her expression caught in that fine line between boredom and contempt. He took a quick peek behind her, making sure that she hadn’t been tailed before finally opening the door.
“It’s been a while, Levi.”
The woman’s face didn’t even falter as he spoke her name. At least, it was the only name she had given him. She brushed him aside as she entered, finding one of the few chairs and lodging herself in it. Her gait had an unusual haste to it, he realised, as if something had left her impatient. Perhaps she was as displeased with the current state of affairs as he was.
“How’d you find me?” he asked. He tried to drop the question subtly, but it was honestly a pressing issue for him. There were maybe half a dozen men in the city who knew about this hideout, and Levi shouldn’t have known how to find any of them.
As always, Levi answered with a glare. She was a woman of many questions and few answers, refusing even to show herself to his business associates, but that was what Rinnosuke had found strangely alluring about her. She was probably a spy of some sort, but she had been hard to place - CIA? KGB? Or some other society he’d never heard of?
He could tolerate a little mystery in return for the funds Levi had offered him. She’d donated billions of yen to his causes, and the business had exploded as a result. In return she had asked for practically nothing, merely requesting the right to use his hired help now and again. Perhaps her superior wanted to get on Rinnosuke’s good side now so they could call in a favour later.
“...Well.” After letting the question hang unanswered for a while, Rinnosuke was wise enough to move on. “I’m guessing you had to work for it, at least. Sorry I’ve been so hard to find recently. A little preoccupied, if you know what I mean.”
Levi nodded, her head barely shuffling. Everything she did felt strangely subdued, like there was some primal force she was holding back. It had unnerved Rinnosuke had first, but he’d gradually been desensitised to it.
“Do you need my help?” she asked.
“No. Definitely not.” Rinnosuke shook his head violently. “I’ve got this all taken care of, trust me. In a few days I’ll be-”
“Under suspicion for the murder of a young lawyer?” Levi interjected. Rinnosuke stopped, gulping without realising it. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise up.
“Don’t worry. I was prepared for this.” One side of Levi’s mouth rose half an inch. “I have a simple, foolproof plan that’ll make sure the police never bother you ever again. And since I’m feeling generous, I’ll even do it for free.”
Rinnosuke’s heart leaped. From anyone else that offer would have been impossible, but Levi was just enough of an enigma for him to buy into it. He tried to hide his surprise, coughing and straightening his collar.
“Well if you put it that way, I can’t refuse. What do I have to do?”
Levi’s lip twitched again. “Oh, it’s just one little thing. It’s very simple, actually.”
He had just enough time to see her pull something metallic from her pocket.
Then came the flash.
-----
“Too slow!”
Jozu yelled as her fist came crashing down. Satori brought up her saber, smacking the broad side against the shark’s wrist to send her punch off target. It bought her just enough room to crane her neck to the side. The wind ran cold along her skin as the strike flew by.
Her sword arm was still extended, so Satori couldn’t counter with it. She brought a knee forward, ramming it square into Jozu’s stomach. The shark growled, but didn’t fall backwards more than a step or two. By the time Satori had managed to pull her arm back, her opponent was already going in for another attack.
What’s she going for? Satori tried to follow the tiny movements of Jozu’s muscles. Sweat ran down her face in beads. Her reactions were shot, so all she could do was predict the move before it happened. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem, but Jozu was a special case. The cacophony that was her mind left Satori nothing to take advantage of.
There wasn’t enough time. On instinct alone, Satori brought the blade up in front of her face. Time slowed to a crawl, giving her just enough time to see a smirk spread across Jozu’s lips. The fist curled downward, losing no momentum as it hurtled straight towards Satori’s chest.
It stopped less than an inch from her skin.
“If this was a real fight, you’d be dead by now.” Jozu smiled. She spoke of battle in the same way most people would discuss the weather. “Looks like I win again.”
Satori groaned. She pulled her helmet off, throwing it into the far corner of her cell before falling to her knees. They’d spent an hour sparring together, and for half of that she’d been surviving on sheer muscle memory. Initially she’d managed to take a bout or two from the shark, but the longer they fought the more dominant Jozu had become.
“What was the score again?” Jozu said, spinning her arm around in her shoulder. “Twenty-two to five?”
“Six.” Satori raised an extra finger, giving the shark a sharp glance. “And it’s hardly a fair comparison. How often am I going to fight someone with a defect like yours?”
“It’s a talent, not a defect.” Jozu stuck her nose up, arms folded as she sat down next to Satori. “It took years to get that much control of myself, and it’s the one thing stopping me from eating you right now.”
“Right, right.” Satori smirked. No matter how strong she was mentally, Jozu’s emotions were easy to toy with. There were times when she just couldn’t resist poking fun at the shark. A bit of relief now and again kept the edge off of her situation.
For a moment, they sat in silence. There was an unspoken bond between the two that made Satori feel comfortable simply by being close to Jozu. She wasn’t just a sparring partner, or even a bodyguard - she was a friend, the only one Satori felt she could rely on anymore. Especially now that her own family were out of the picture.
“Still, I’m surprised,” Jozu said, shattering the silence. “I wasn’t expecting you to ask for more sparring sessions after you heard the news. Hell, I was ready for you to just give up on the fight altogether.”
Satori nodded. It had been tempting to surrender, and she’d given it a lot of thought. She could still remember her superior’s words, the echoes of the tides as she spoke.
Your sister is lost, Komeiji. Her voice had been blunt and heartless. Perhaps that was what Satori had needed - a viewpoint unaffected by emotion. The Pearl has slipped tales of heroism into her mind, as they have with all of their recruits. They remain blind to the truth behind this war, and their master plants lies in their minds to keep them docile.
In all honesty, Satori had been ready for that answer. When she’d run into the Sirens at the orphanage, she’d glimpsed into their minds. All of them had bought into the belief that the White Pearl was the answer to the war, rather than what had started it in the first place. They’d passed the point of reason long ago.
“I almost gave in, I’ll admit.” Satori saw no need to act stronger than she was, leaning onto Jozu’s shoulder. “I said that I would kill her, but in the end I can’t turn my blade on my own sister. She doesn’t even know what she’s doing anymore.”
“So what are you going to do?” Jozu’s voice was pointed, almost more of a threat than a question. “You can’t stop fighting, but you can’t hide from her forever either. Sooner or later, you’re gonna meet her on the battlefield.”
Satori nodded. “I know. I’m not as naive as my sister is.” She looked down at the back of her right hand, where her violet Teardrop was lodged into the metal. “But I think I might have an idea. The Teardrop is the source of a Siren’s power, right?”
Jozu’s eyebrows rose. “So you’re thinking of disarming her. You realise that’ll be a lot harder than just sticking a sword in her chest, don’t you?”
The Siren winked. “That’s why I figured I could use some extra tutoring.”
The realisation washed over Jozu slowly but surely. Her lips formed into a tiny o, holding form for a few seconds before she let out a mighty sigh.
Moments later, she started to ruffle at Satori’s hair.
“Y’know, I’ve heard a lot of bad things about you humans. But you just might be alright after all.”
Now it was Satori’s turn to be embarrassed. She bowed her head down so the shark wouldn’t see her blush. “Says the woman whose race eats humans for lunch,” she countered.
“I told you, we don’t do it that often!” Jozu growled, her toying with Satori’s hair getting rougher. “You humans have just given us a really bad press, that’s all.”
Satori laughed so hard that it hurt to breathe. It felt inappropriate, but at the same time it was exactly what she needed. She looked over at the sword still resting in her hand, struggling to remember a moment when she hadn’t been training. Jozu had been her only source of relief, and even then she’d been careful not to fall too far from her stoicism.
To hell with it. Satori let her blade fall to the floor as her laughing spree continued. All work and no play makes me a dull girl.
Jozu flinched, letting go of Satori and stepping backwards. “Uh...are you alright?”
Satori felt tears welling in her eyes as she nodded. “I’m fine, Jozu. Better than I’ve been in a long time.”
-----
The morning came three hours too early for Nazrin’s taste.
It wasn’t the sunlight that woke her up - even in the brightest days her hiding spot was pitch black. It was the sound of the zoo coming to life that did the trick - employees running about, creatures calling out for food, and the first few visitors trickling in through the gates.
Nazrin didn’t want to move, but she didn’t have much of a choice. The familiar rumbling of her stomach forced her to rise up on all fours, her tail stretching and coiling around itself. A small yellow ribbon was wrapped around it, bouncing slightly as she stepped out of the darkness.
She looked out from underneath the cage. The usual stands were opening up across from her, selling junk food at obscene prices. They’d been easy picks on her first few days here, but the vendors were beginning to catch on. One of them was wielding his spatula as a weapon when he wasn’t flipping burgers with it, and his glare was permanently locked on the foot of the cage.
Nazrin growled, her throat almost as rough as her stomach. She slipped out under the side of the cage rather than opting for a head-on approach. A brick wall ran around the exhibit, and here there were enough holes in the structure for Nazrin to pull herself up. The cage’s inhabitant - a leopard slobbering on its breakfast - gave her little more than a bored glance before returning to its meal. One of the benefits of being so low on the food chain was that all of the real predators wouldn’t lower themselves to chasing mice.
The brick wall she was climbing looped around behind the stands. She found herself standing right behind her target as he gave his burgers another loving flip. The food on the grill was far too hot for her to handle, but he’d set aside some of it to cool down in the morning air. Stealing a whole patty was beyond her, but she could rip off a piece and run off with it.
She took a few careful steps backward. This was going to take a careful jump, and if she messed it up she’d either be a pancake or a mouse-kebab. She watched the human’s head bob about, waited for him to look down at his handiwork.
Then she leaped off the wall, landing neatly on the vendor’s head.
“The hell?!”
The man’s reaction was less than pleasant, as one hand reached up to grab at Nazrin. She slipped through its fingers, jumping down onto the stand itself. The human was too caught up with his headwear to see her move. By the time he’d caught on, she had already claimed her prize and started a dash back to her cage.
“You little piece of shit!”
For all the grease and warts clinging to his face, the human was much faster than Nazrin had anticipated. In three paces he’d covered the distance between her and the cage, blocking her with his spatula at the ready. She broke to the right, her tiny feet pattering across the stone as her heart raced in her chest.
The vendor chased after her with a new-found determination. She’d made a mistake in frequenting the same food stands - now the human considered her a personal enemy, and would follow her as far as he could. He swatted his weapon down at her, and the sound of it barely missing her sent another wave of adrenaline into her bloodstream.
Nazrin’s eyes bounced around her surroundings, looking for any sort of opening she could slip into. She checked for space beneath the passing cages, but unlike the leopard’s cage these ones were placed on the floor rather than propped up on wheels. The next building was a few hundred meters away, and there was only so long she could keep away from him for.
That left one option - jumping into an actual cage, but that would be escaping one predator to fall into the hands of another. She’d have to choose her living partner carefully.
Wolves, bobcats, mountain lions...why did I have to pick the meat-eating side of the zoo?!
Every option was worse than the one before it. Maybe hunters wouldn’t chase after Nazrin, but they wouldn’t turn down a free breakfast. All the while the vendor’s swings came closer, nipping at her tail more than once. Escape seemed all but impossible.
A foot popped up from behind one of the cages, and Nazrin ran straight into it.
“Whoa!” the foot’s owner cried. “What’s going on here?”
Nazrin’s head still spun from the impact. By the time she could see straight, she was already being picked off of the ground and lifted up by the human she’d run into. The chunk of burger fell from her mouth, uneaten.
“Hey, what’re ya doin’?” The vendor came to a stop, panting and gasping as the exertion caught up with him. “That little rat just tried to make off with my goddamn produce!”
Nazrin quickly looked over her saviour. A girl in her late teens, she wore a long-sleeved orange shirt to signify her place as a member of the zoo’s staff. Her short brown hair was ruffled about, as if she’d walked through a hedge on the way here. There was still a leaf caught in her hair, in fact.
“Hm. A stray animal, you say?” The employee reached down and stroked at Nazrin’s hand, her fingers surprisingly soft. The mouse nuzzled against them, the warmth alien and nostalgic all at once. “Don’t worry, sir. I’ll take care of this for you.”
“You’re gonna stick it in the incinerator, right?” The man spat as he spoke, eyes still locked on Nazrin. “That’ll stop the little rodent from pilfering my stand again.”
The employee closed her eyes for an instant, and when she opened them again they were filled with a newfound disdain. Her grip on Nazrin grew a little tighter.
“Sir, it’s our job to look after these animals, not execute them. If you’re willing to kill another living being that simply needed something to eat, I suggest you move your stand somewhere else.”
She turned on her feet before the man could answer, stomping away from the cages and towards the employee area. Her grip on Nazrin was tight enough to keep the mouse from slipping away, but all things considered Nazrin didn’t even want to escape.
She helped me, Nazrin thought to herself. This human just saved my life.
She had all but given up on humans after what had happened to her master. She’d thought that no-one would ever look out for her again.
Perhaps she had been wrong.
“You alright?” The girl ran her pinky along the length of Nazrin’s tail with a careful stroke. “Don’t worry. Mami-chan’s gonna take good care of you.”
And for what felt like the first time in forever, Nazrin believed that.
