2005
Months later
School Cafeteria
10:41 AM
"-And then my brother went all pow, pow, boom!" Jason – a brown-haired boy with hazel eyes – dramatically recounted. "And my Mario flew off the stage."
"I still don't know how he did that," he dejectedly continued. "It went from forty to two hundred so fast!"
"Well," Sierra piped up. "He went pow, pow, boom on you. That's how."
Yoru snorted as she chewed on some kasha.
"Hey!" The girl sat back with a smug smile, heedless of her male friend's indignant cry.
Jason is a fellow music club member. He joined to get extra practice on his guitar and struck up a friendship over their shared passion for Smash Bros. The pianist introduced him to Yoru, which led to the three forming a small friend group.
"By the way, Jason," Sierra called out after taking a bite of her chicken burger. "What character was your brother playing?"
"Um… Jigglypuff?" The student replied. "Is that what the round pink thingie is called?"
"Hmm." The brunette tapped her chin. "Jigglypuff is very good against Mario. Did your brother make you go first?"
"Yeah." Jason nodded. "He always picks after I do."
"That's why you never beat him." Sierra tapped the plastic lunch table. "He always chooses characters who are good against yours. You must make him pick the same time you do."
"And you just need to get good." The child continued, much to her fellow student's dismay.
"Oh come on!" The guitarist protested. "I'm asking you because you're good at Smash Bros, Sierra!"
The two devolved into more chatter as Yoru continued eating. She'd heard of the game before and had played it when she went over to Jason's house, but fighting games weren't her forte. Learning the movesets of a dozen-something characters isn't something the violet-haired twin is really interested in.
But the child didn't mind. She shared other interests with either one of them and hung out with them often.
"Jason," Yoru called out when her friends' conversation lulled. "Did you finish the history homework?"
Jason's face paled. He hadn't. He was too busy playing smash bros with his older brother last night to do it.
"Oh shoot!!" The boy rushed to pull up his backpack. "I have that next period!!"
The purple-eyed girl quickly shoveled as much food into her mouth as she could before downing it with borscht.
"I'll help you fill it out." She set her thermos down with a dull thunk after swallowing. "Change some stuff so Ms. Beverly won't get suspicious."
Yoru reached into her bag and pulled out her completed worksheet.
"Are you sure?" Sierra tilted her head as her Japanese friend handed her paper over. "Cheating is bad."
"Jason let me copy his English homework last time," the purple-eyed girl simply replied. "Ms. Stevens doesn't check with other teachers like Ms. Beverly."
"But homework helps you study for tests and quizzes." The American retorted. "That's why you're not doing very good on the essays."
"Well, I learned English like, three years ago." Yoru rebutted.
"Three years is a long time!" the pianist countered as her friend shoveled more food into her mouth.
"And you still have three times as long to learn English," the Wick responded. "I'll figure it out someday."
"I'm done!" Jason slammed his completed paper on the table.
"Give it here." Yoru extended her hand. "I'll look it over so you don't get caught."
"Questions two, five, and six are wrong, Yoru." Sierra pointed out after glancing at the worksheet. "You two will both get in trouble if you have the same answer."
"Oh." The brown-haired boy intoned as his friend handed the homework back to him.
"Why are you letting him copy off of you?" The child asked as Jason hastily erased his answers. "You're not even good at history."
"If I can help, I will," Yoru responded. "He's my friend."
*BRRRRIIIIINNNGGG*
"I'm done! Again!" The guitarist declared right as the lunch bell rang. "Thank you so much, Yoru!"
Sierra shook her head in disappointment while the Wick packed up her tupperware. The Japanese girl looked over at her friend and mirthfully shrugged.
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Hours Later
New York Ruska Roma
4:07 PM
"Let's go through the dance again." Alena – the dance instructor – clapped her hands to draw the class's attention. "Back to your starting positions."
The child obliged and returned to her place on the floor. Soft piano notes and humming strings filled the air before the first few girls began moving their arms.
Up, down. Up, down, a twirl, then a leg raise. They skipped and turned around, signaling for the next group to begin.
Yoru and a few other girls made their way to the center with tiny, light steps. They bowed deep enough so their hands would've touched the floor if their limbs were fully extended and then spun.
Alena watched their choreography like a hawk scanning a lake. Any mistake stood out like a shadow of a fish swimming too close to the water's surface. Her brows slightly furrowed as a girl leaned too far forwards, breaking the otherwise geometric grace of the others' composition.
But that was neither here nor there. Admonishments are for after the set was complete.
She stopped the music after the class all went "backstage" to complete their performance.
"Liza." The instructor called out the biggest offender first. "You rushed too far ahead. You moved too fast, and your group desynced."
The blonde bit her lip at the admonishment. Though the punishment was never physical, as it was with Nogi, disappointing Alena had consequences just as severe.
To dance well means to have grit and control. The Ruska Roma has no need for those who lack either. That's why ballet is more than a front to the institution: it's a filter as well as supplemental combat training.
"Control yourself." The Russian continued. "Have patience. Your turn will come."
She then called out other names, pointing out their mistakes before moving on to the next girl. Her voice was like a rapier: quick, quiet, and deadly even when lacking in hardness.
Everyone in the room knows what she left unsaid. Either the mistakes get fixed, or there wouldn't be a place for them here.
"Yoru." Alena eventually got to the violet-haired girl. "You need to be softer. Your timing and moves are good, but you put too much power behind them. People notice. This is a dance studio, not a sparring ring."
The Wick stood out as the only one who didn't get admonished for an obvious mistake. The other students exchanged glances, and though no one spoke, they all knew what the others were thinking.
"Clean up and change." The instructor ordered. "Nogi will see you all in ten."
She turned around, and the class began shuffling toward the locker room. Yoru joined the group of kids congealing in front of the locker room's entrance. A dozen or so children stared at her before quickly making their way to their own locker.
Some girls tried pranking her by splattering mud all over the insides of her locker once. Yoru's spare clothes and towels were ruined, and her phone was smashed into little more than scrap.
It turns out, Yoru was a natural when it came to two-handed weapons. No one had dared to try anything similar after that particular exercise.
The child was aware of her classmates' jealousy. In just one year, the girl had climbed from the bottom to the very top, surpassing those who had been there for far longer than she had.
Why is that? Yoru doesn't know. Though she doesn't consider herself a violent person, the child took to the lessons like a fish to water regardless. Nogi said it's natural talent. Her classmates said it's because she's the Baba Yaga's daughter.
But no matter the reason, the girl got better with every spar. Soon, she could very well run out of worthy opponents to fight.
Yoru opened her locker and grabbed her Gi. She quickly changed into her sparring clothes and met her class in the training hall. However, something was different. Instead of being greeted by an empty room, there was a group of boys waiting for them.
The Wick looked over to her classmates, all of whom sported expressions of varying confusion. Yoru took a seat at an empty spot on the mat and waited for Nogi.
A few minutes later, their instructor arrived. The Wick didn't even notice her before the woman was well beyond the entrance of the room.
"Good afternoon," Nogi greeted upon reaching the center of the room.
"Good afternoon, Nogi." Everyone echoed.
"Now, I'm sure all of you realized that we're doing something different today." The assassin began pacing, looking around but eyeing no one in particular. "But there is a reason for that."
"Before today, the classes were separated by gender." Nogi continued. "Girls fought against girls, and boys fought against boys. That changes today."
She swept her gaze across the boys' side, now clearly eyeing one in particular.
"I've taught all of you how to fight, but there is something you all must understand." The woman now looked directly at Yoru. "Boys and girls fight differently. There are things boys can do better than girls, and things girls can do better than boys."
"Yoru, Modest, stand." Yoru and a blonde-haired boy obeyed. "Come to the center."
The two children walked to the center of the room. The girl looked her green-eyed opponent up and down. He's taller, his shoulders broader and his arms thicker. She cannot outmuscle him like the other girls, and from the way he's also eyeing her, he knows that.
"You two are the best fighters in your class," Nogi remarked. "I want you to spar."
The two took several steps back while the instructor put two minutes on the clock. When the device beeped, the two got into their respective stances and began circling.
'He's slower.' Yoru realized as she analyzed him. 'His steps are heavier than mine.'
'He naturally puts his hands at chest level.' The girl continued her appraisal. 'His legs are wide, and he's leaning forwards. He's a grappler.'
The hitwoman-in-training shifted her feet, slightly widening her stance so she wouldn't be swept off her feet as easily. Modest did the same, bringing his feet closer together and straightening his body to prevent them from being easy targets for Yoru to nip.
Then – as if an invisible string had been cut – the two moved. The blonde rushed in, closing the distance to pounce on her like a leopard.
The girl stepped back, dodging the grab in the nick of time. Her left fist shot out in a counterattack, but her opponent slipped under her strike and lunged once more.
'He's aggressive!' Yoru's mind raced as she sidestepped another grapple.
The girls in her class were always more cautious when it came to sparring with her because she had gotten really good at submissions. They all knew that if they got in too close, the Wick would throw them to the ground and choke them out.
Therefore, Yoru had gotten good at gauging distances and striking when her opponents had gotten too close. Her skill with takedowns and submissions hung over her classmates as a sword of Damocles. If the girl's sparring partner was too passive, she would tenderize their bodies with blows and exhaust them. If they were too aggressive, all it took was one mistake for the child to turn the tables and choke them out.
But to be forced on the defensive with aggressive grappling? This wasn't something she was used to. Modest hadn't given her a moment to think, to breathe, and properly dissect the other fighter's habits.
Yoru countered aggressive grappling by outmuscling her opponent, which she couldn't do here. Fighting Modest – a stronger student with much longer reach – forced bad habits to surface. Habits she never had to fix because none of her classmates could take advantage of them.
However…
'He's slowing down.' The girl realized after one of the fighter's grabs went wider than usual. 'He's gassing out.'
'If that's the case…' The assassin-in-training narrowed her eyes as the boy's momentum began to wane, giving her precious moments to concoct a quick plan.
She dodged Modest's next grapple with barely half an inch to spare. Yoru slipped back in range right as the blonde prepared for another grab.
*Pow*
The Wick connected a cross with her opponent's face. Knuckle bone met jaw, and Modest's head snapped backward. However, he didn't get stunned like the girl expected. Instead, the Russian recovered the instant the Yoru committed to throwing a hook with her other hand.
*Thud*
He dropped down low before launching himself at Yoru. Modest wrapped his arms around the purple-haired child's leg just as her left hand sailed over his head.
The girl's eyes widened in shock. She sharply jerked her limb back in an attempt to shake her opponent off, but his grip remained ironclad.
Modest clamped Yoru's leg between his and lifted her up. Now with all of the assassin-in-training's weight driven into her back leg, the blonde pushed her sideways with his shoulder.
The Wick hopped around in a circle as she attempted to regain balance. The boy took a step back, sending Yoru tumbling to the ground.
*Thud*
Now that his opponent was in a vulnerable position, Modest was on her like a wolf. Yoru tried defending herself as best she could, but there was little she could do with her back to the ground and the boy's entire weight pressing onto her body.
*POW*
A hammer fist slipped through the Japanese girl's desperate blocks, slamming into her eye the same way a rock flung from a trebuchet arcs over a castle's walls.
"STOP!" Modest's fist halted right as Nogi's voice echoed through the room. "Separate!"
The blonde got up and offered a hand to the hitwoman-in-training.
"Good match." He said as Yoru grasped onto his arm.
"Yeah." The child stood up. "Good match."
The Wick returned to her corner. She gingerly touched the spot her opponent slammed his fist into, sharply exhaling when a jolt of pain echoed from where her finger contacted.
"Why did you fail?" Nogi inquired after kneeling in front of her.
"He was too strong." The instructor frowned at her response.
"Do you really believe that strength has anything to do with whether you win or lose?"
"But he is!" Yoru protested.
"Tell me why you lost against Liza then," Nogi demanded. "You are stronger than her now, aren't you? She hasn't been able to overpower you for months."
The girl went silent at the question. That was true, wasn't it? Her record against Liza was 83-59 in her favor, but the Russian had recently eked out a hard-fought victory.
"Remember this, Yoru." The African continued. "You will always be smaller and at a disadvantage. No amount of training will ever change the blueprint your body was born with."
The hitwoman-in-training clenched her fist.
"Lean into your strengths, a girl's strengths," Nogi advised. "Not his. Force him to fight on your terms. Fight like a girl."
The woman stepped off the mat, and the two fighters looked at each other.
"Begin!" At her signal, the second round began.
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An hour later
Outside of Tarkovsky Theater
5:26 PM
*Thump*
"How was your day?" John inquired as his ward got into his car.
The hitman looked into the rearview mirror, blinking once he saw Yoru holding an ice pack to her right eye. The girl didn't say anything, only huffing and roughly pulling a seatbelt over her body.
The assassin didn't pry. It was obvious the younger Wick was in no mood to talk about what happened in the Ruska Roma today.
"I'm planning to make [beef stroganoff] tonight," John announced as he shifted his car into drive mode. "Do you want to have anything else?"
Yoru stayed silent as the vehicle began to move.
"...Can I have mango juice?" She replied a couple of seconds after her guardian turned at a crowded intersection.
"Of course." The man nodded.
"Thanks." The violet-haired child stared out the window when the car turned onto a six-lane roadway.
As the barren branches of trees preparing for winter flew past them, a fragment of John's mind began to prick at him. There was something he'd forgotten, but he wasn't sure exactly what it was.
The assassin's eyes sharpened. He didn't like this foreboding feeling; he could do nothing about it. The hitman ran through his mental checklist of possible threats, but still came up empty. What could he have possibly forgotten?
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Later
John's home
6:01
*Bzzt*
John picked up and flipped open his phone, fully expecting a text from his boss. Instead, it was from Helen, a woman he met months ago and started seeing recently.
Helen: Are you free this Saturday?
The assassin set down his fork to message back.
John: I'll have to check with my boss, but I should be.
Helen: Great! There's a new exhibition I want to check out.
Helen: [Link]
"Who are you texting?" John looked up from his phone to see Yoru's scrutinizing gaze.
"It's not Viggo." She continued when the hitman didn't answer. "You look serious when you message him."
"Actually," The girl paused for a moment. "You never smiled at messages. At least, not until a month ago. You also started going out on weekends. What is going on, John?"
"I've been seeing someone." The Soviet replied. "I met her a couple of months ago."
"I… see." The violet-eyed Wick's expression changed in an instant. Something within her had shattered like glass.
"I'm not hungry." Yoru pushed her chair out from the table.
"You barely ate." John glanced at his ward's plate.
"I said I'm not hungry." The girl asserted with a twinge of bitterness as she walked around the table.
"Yoru?" Yoru stormed out of the kitchen, heedless of John's call.
"I don't want to talk to you!!" The youngest Wick shouted while she stomped up the stairs.
John set his phone down on the table and pushed his chair away. The man quickly strode out of the kitchen, making his way up the stairs and to his ward's room.
He stopped at the door. The assassin attempted to reach out, but Yoru's face, after he told her about Helen, suddenly stabbed him in the stomach. John exhaled – choosing to bite the bullet instead – and pushed those feelings down. There was no use dilly-dallying; he needed to find out why she was upset.
*Tuk tuk tuk*
"Yoru?" The hitman called out after knocking on the door.
"Go away!" Came her response, a shout muffled by the wooden barrier between them.
"Why are you so upset at me?" The assassin questioned.
"I don't want to talk to you!!" Once again, no dice.
"Was it something I did?" John tried once more.
"... Stop talking to me." This time, Yoru's rebuke came out as barely a whisper through the door. "You don't care."
The man tried asking many times afterward, but his ward clammed up after that brief display of vulnerability. No matter what angle the ex-Marine tried to pry at, he was always turned away with some variation of "stop talking to me" or "leave."
"Yoru…" John tried one last time, his patience wearing thin like old linen. "Please tell me what's wrong."
"Don't talk to me!" His question did as much to the wall Yoru's built as a bowl of soup.
The assassin opened his mouth, but closed it. He silently turned around and went down the stairs. Unbeknownst to the hitman, his ward clutched an old wolf plushie – the same one he bought her when she was recovering from her near-death fall – with dew-like tears rolling down her cheeks.
The orange of the setting sun filtered through the window, making her tears glisten as the liquid refracted light.
Yoru heard her guardian's footsteps get quieter as he returned to the kitchen. She had gotten what she wanted, but it only made the twisted feeling in her stomach tighter.
The child sniffled. Now that John had left, she wanted nothing more than to call out. To plead with him not to go.
"Yoru-chan? Ai-chan? I want you two to meet someone!"
But the girl held back. She held back because she knew deep down that it was useless, that he'd leave no matter what she did.
His eyes. That glimmer of hope – of joy – when thinking of another person. The look of love reserved for someone that wasn't her. It was just like her mother.
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An hour and a half later
7:46 PM
"Yoru?" John called out outside Yoru's door an hour and a half after she retreated into her room.
Silence was his answer.
"I'll leave it here if you still want it." The hitman set down the plastic-wrapped plate alongside a thermos and some silverware. "Leave it outside after you're done. I'll clean it up."
He walked away, not turning around even when he heard the door open. The girl didn't want to see him right now, and he'd respect her wishes. The assassin went into his bedroom, sitting on his bed as he tried to figure out what went wrong.
Yoru had been a good kid the entire time she was under his care. She rarely argued, was polite, and rarely caused trouble. This was the first time the girl had acted out at all, and John had no idea how to deal with her.
Who could he ask? There was barely anyone close to him who could give him reasonable advice. The two that he was close enough to have that kind of talk with wouldn't give advice that would work for Yoru.
She wouldn't take well to stern parenting or being left to her own devices to stew. The Director had put it best during their talk. Yoru has a heart of glass. Too much pressure in the wrong places and she collapses.
John didn't know what he could do in this situation. The hitman never expected someone like Yoru to come into his life. He had accepted that he would die alone, bleeding out in some forgotten corner after a job gone wrong or being taken care of by another assassin when he was long past his prime. The Soviet didn't once think he would become the caretaker of a little girl, an innocent soul that didn't deserve the hand she was given.
John took her in because she was his responsibility after he hauled her bloodied body out of that alleyway. It was a miracle she recovered, and the man considered himself just as lucky she chose to go with him.
But now everything he had built with her hangs on the precipice of what he will choose to do next. He couldn't do nothing; something would begin to give if he let the problem fester. One wrong move would be enough to make everything collapse around him.
'No.' The hitman wanted to hit himself for overlooking something so simple. 'There is someone I can ask.'
He took out his phone, opened his contacts list, and scrolled to the one person who could help him: Helen.
John: I need help.
It was a long shot, but it was his only option. While he trusted Caine and Koji with his life, they had raised their daughters under very different circumstances. Mia was raised completely separated from the underworld, while Akira had been expected to take over the Shimazu clan after Koji stepped down. What had worked for them wouldn't necessarily work for Yoru.
Minutes ticked by. John anxiously tapped his foot on the carpet as he waited for the woman to answer.
Helen: What is it?
Finally, her message arrived with a corresponding ping. The assassin explained the situation to her as best he could. When the final text was sent, Helen didn't reply for half a minute.
The Wick's stomach dropped as the pause went on. Did he come on too hard? Was this something she should even deal with?
Helen: Okay
Helen: I see the situation.
Those two messages were a bucket of ice water in the desert. A tidal wave of relief washed over John before he sagged his shoulders.
Helen: Just to make sure, Yoru is your adoptive daughter, right?
John: Yes.
Helen: I think she thinks you're going to abandon her.
John's brows furrowed as he read the last part of Helen's message.
John: Abandon her?
Helen: Did she ever talk about her bio mom with you?
John: No.
John: She talks about it to her therapist, but I never asked for details.
John: I'm not good with those things.
Helen: Well, you need to clearly show her that you're not going to do that.
John: But I won't.
Helen: Yoru doesn't know that.
The Soviet blinked. He wanted to hit himself again. What Helen pointed out was blindingly obvious in hindsight, but he had gotten so used to his ward being able to read him that he'd completely forgotten. Interpretations aren't perfect, and Yoru's impression of him dating the American has been colored by her abandonment issues.
John: Oh.
Helen: Yeah, oh.
Helen: You might want to start trying to make up to her.
Helen: Actions speak louder than words.
John: I don't know where to start with that.
Helen: Is there something she likes? You should try getting something for her.
John: Mangos.
John: She likes mangos.
Helen: Then try making something with mangos for her. I think she'll appreciate it.
The assassin nodded at her advice.
John: Thank you, Helen.
Helen: Anytime, John. Still on for Saturday?
John: I'll get back to you on that.
John closed his phone and started making his way to his computer. He needs to do some research.
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Two days later
Classroom
3:43 PM
Sophia Smalls – an elementary school music teacher – peeked at her watch as the final notes of a chorus died down. The clock read 3:43, two minutes before clubs were supposed to wrap up.
"And that's it for today." She elected to end early, seeing as cleaning up would take some time. "Good work today!"
"Thank you, Ms. Smalls!" A chorus of voices answered her. The sound of rustling ensued as the students packed away their chord sheets into their folders.
The woman's eyes trailed over the gathered group of students. A total of nine children made up her music club, all playing an assortment of different instruments with differing levels of experience. From those who have played since they're toddlers to those who've never picked one up before joining, the club welcomed them all with open arms.
The instructor sought to create a space where her students felt comfortable. That, combined with her storied background in the arts, made her very attuned to emotions. After all, what is music if not a vector for the artist to convey theirs to their audience?
"Yoru?" Sophia called out while the violet-haired girl put her recorder away. "Can you stay after for a little bit? Don't worry, it isn't anything bad."
The purple-eyed child looked taken aback for a second, but quickly nodded. Yoru's friends flashed her looks of understanding before filtering out of the room with the rest of the club.
"Is everything okay, Yoru?" The woman inquired. "You seem a little out of it today."
"...I'm fine." The Wick evasively responded after a pause. "It's… It's nothing."
"You're usually really excited to play the recorder." She pressed on. "But not today, so it can't be nothing."
Yoru visibly wilted under her music teacher's gaze.
"Is there some trouble at home?" The Japanese girl pursed her lips; Sophia had hit the nail on the head. "You can talk to me, Yoru."
"John got a girlfriend." A wave of understanding crashed into the instructor after hearing the child's answer. "He's going to leave me."
'It's like looking in a mirror.' The woman thought. 'Except, I was more angry than sad at that time.'
"Why would you think that?" Sophia questioned. "John doesn't seem like the type of person to do that. He really cares about you."
"I know he would." Yoru's conviction made the instructor's heart ache. "That's what my mom was going to do when she got a boyfriend."
"Yoru, honey, can I tell you a story?" The Wick tilted her head at her teacher's question before eventually nodding.
"My biological dad wasn't in my life for my early years," Sophia began. "It's just been me and my mom for as long as I can remember. When I was just a little bit older than you, she introduced me to her new boyfriend."
"I wasn't thrilled about it, and I initially rejected him." She continued as she led the child to an empty seat. "Pretty handily. But – bless him – he was a patient man and let me meet him at my own pace."
"Whatever you choose to do, Yoru." The woman turned toward Yoru, gently patting her on the shoulder. "Just know, you still have people who care about you. You have Sierra, Jason, and everyone in music club."
"Do I have you too?" The question was raw, almost too pure in its vulnerability.
"Yes, of course." Sophia nodded with a soft smile on her face. "You have me as well."
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Hours later
John's home
5:51 PM
John's Lexus slowly rolled into his garage, lazily coming to a stop right before the concrete ramp that led into the home. The man unbuckled his seatbelt, opening the car door as the garage's roller blinds lumbered shut.
The assassin shut the automobile's door a couple of seconds prior to his ward. John locked the vehicle with a loud beep, then went to a shoe rack to switch his dress shoes for slippers. Yoru did the same, and the two went up the stairs into the home proper.
'Something's different.' The Soviet noted. 'Her steps seem lighter. Did something happen at school? Or maybe at the theater?'
Whatever it is, he supposed that it was a good thing. The house had been too quiet ever since their… argument.
Yoru's nose twitched, pausing in her step as a scent wafted through the air.
*Sniff* *Sniff*
The girl took in two quick whiffs through her nose, picking up the faint notes of sugar, cream, and… mangoes.
"Is that cake?" She turned to her guardian.
"Yes." John nodded, seeing as he had no reason to lie.
The hitman bought the ingredients right after he finished all his jobs for the day and spent the entire afternoon following a recipe he found online. He set the oven timer right before he went to pick Yoru up. As luck would have it, it appeared that he arrived home just in time.
"Is she coming over?" She didn't say who she was referring to, but John instantly knew that she meant Helen.
"No." The Soviet replied. "I would ask you first."
The child blinked. Once, twice.
"Oh." She breathed out, looking away from her guardian. "I see."
The assassin then continued up the stairs. Yoru followed him, walking step by step until the two entered the kitchen.
John walked over to the oven, opening it to reveal… a tray of very sad-looking cupcakes. He could almost hear the boowomp sound effect play as mashed potato-like frosting slid off one of the confections.
The cupcakes weren't steaming, and there was no blast of heat coming from the oven. The machine had likely been shut off for a long time now, having finished its cooking process long before the two Wicks made it home.
"These look…" The hitman could hear the gears in his ward's head turn as she tried to find the word to describe what he made. "Unique?"
"The recipe wasn't very clear on how much of what I should add." The Soviet shut the oven door behind him.
John placed the baking tray on the countertop. Yoru carefully grabbed one of the cupcakes, giving the confection a couple of quick taps to make sure it wasn't hot enough to burn her mouth. She brought the treat to her mouth and took a bite.
"It's good." As a cupcake, what the hitman made was terrible. The inside was a little bit gooey, and the frosting was sticky. But she smiled regardless. Yoru couldn't help it. Despite its appearance, the sweet was somehow the tastiest thing she'd ever eaten.
Her guardian raised an eyebrow and took a bit himself. He grimaced at the pungent sweet mango flavor and the bizarre texture of the confection.
But if his daughter is happy with what he's made, then who is he to complain?
[... .... .- -.. --- .-- / --- ..-. / .- -. / .. -.. --- .-.. ---... / .-.. . .- ...- .. -. --. / - .... . / .-.. .. ..-. . / -.-- --- ..- / -.- -. . .--]
Days later
John's home
1:58 PM
*Ding Dong*
Yoru strolled toward the front door when she heard the doorbell ring. According to John, he was due to go on a date today sometime in the afternoon.
The girl pushed a stool beneath the peephole and stood on the tip of her toes to look through it. A woman with shoulder-length brown hair stood in front of the door. She looked dressed up, wearing light makeup with a purse slung over her shoulder.
Yoru slid the door chain into place, stepping off the stool before unlocking the door. She opened the front entrance, her face just peeking out enough to look at the woman.
"Are you Helen?" The child asked, cautious of the brunette patiently waiting to be let inside.
"Oh." She intoned, crouching down to meet the assassin-in-training at eye level. "Are you Yoru?"
"Yes or no." Yoru tried to be as threatening as she could be, but came off more like a fluffy kitten due to how small she is.
"Yes, honey." Helen nodded. "My name is Helen. It's nice to meet you."
*Tuck*
The girl shut the door upon the woman's confirmation.
"Come in." She said, opening her home's front entrance now that the doorchain was undone. "John's still getting ready upstairs."
The brunette nodded, but the Wick stopped her just before she could step inside.
"No shoes in the house," Yoru informed her. "I'll get you some slippers."
She hurried over to a cabinet, crouching down to take out a pair of house shoes out from storage.
Helen smiled when the child brought her the sandal-like footwear. She slipped off her high heels before stepping inside and following Yoru into the kitchen.
"How did you meet John?" The child made small talk as she filled an electric kettle. "He doesn't have much going on except work and me."
"We met at a restaurant." The woman replied as the hitwoman-in-training sprinkled some leaves into two ceramic mugs. "The whole place was packed, but John let me sit at his table. I started talking to him because he seemed like an interesting man."
Yoru nodded, then asked Helen more about her guardian. Throughout their talk, a feeling of warm comfort bloomed in her chest.
When John came downstairs a little while later, he found the two engrossed in conversation on the couch. Two steaming mugs sat on the coffee table, their contents barely touched. The smile on the violet-haired girl's face was so bright it could've illuminated the dark side of the moon.
The hitman couldn't help but curl his lips upwards. In all the ways their meeting could have gone, he never expected it to go this smoothly.
'Maybe retirement is something I should be thinking of after all.' John thought as he observed the scene. 'This peace, I wouldn't mind having it for the rest of my life.'