Chapter 19: Tea, Feathers, and Bad Decisions Waiting to Happen
Kairo woke up the way he always did when he had to actually do something that Day, it wasn't a gentle or slow wake either, Not even naturally either, really.
He just… woke up. . . .Like something in the universe had tapped him on the shoulder and gone, "Right, that's enough of that." He didn't even question that whatever force that woke him kinda felt British too, and Kairo decided not to look any further into that train of thought.
Kairo loved sleep but There was no groggy middle ground, no rolling over and pretending sleep might come back if he tried hard enough. His eyes opened, his mind snapped into place, and just like that, he was fully awake, alert, and very aware that the day had started whether he liked it or not.
It was one of the more annoying side effects of being… whatever he was.
"Brilliant," he muttered to himself, voice still soft with sleep but already carrying that familiar edge of dry complaint and the state of mind of someone leaving their very comfy bed. "Love that for me."
He sat up in his bed, blankets falling around him, silver-white hair sticking up in soft, chaotic sleep-time angles. Around him, the room ticked quietly, dozens of clocks marking time in their own little ways, all of them technically unnecessary.
Because he didn't need them. Kairo liked them, for sure, but He never needed them.
Kairo stretched, arms reaching high above his head, then flopped forward dramatically onto his pillow for a second, face buried as if he could protest reality by sheer stubbornness alone and unwillingness to leave the bed, while his mind may be awake and ready for the day, his body and soul were not.
"Five more minutes," he mumbled.
Aurielis, still hanging from her hook on the wall, said nothing.
Which meant she was either asleep… or choosing not to engage.
Kairo lifted his head, squinting at her.
"…traitor," he added.
Still nothing.
He sighed, pushing himself upright again. As much as he liked sleep, and he really, really liked sleep, there was no point fighting it now. His body was done resting, his mind was already moving, and the day had officially begun whether he approved of it or not. Plus, he had things to do today anyway . . .
"Fine," he said, like he was granting the universe permission, "let's get this over with."
He hopped out of bed, padding across the room in his Duck Prince pajamas, which he was absolutely not thinking about too hard right now. He reached up, gently taking Aurielis from her hook.
She was quiet. Still.
He turned her over in his hands, studying the golden watch face like it might give him answers.
"You're sleeping more," he said quietly, not accusing, just noticing.
Aurielis did not respond.
He hesitated for a second, then shrugged and slipped her around his neck anyway.
"Too bad," he added. "You're coming with me."
Still no response.
"Rude . . . but i do miss you . . . sometimes . . . but It's not like I care or anything…"
And then, because time liked to play favorites with him, everything after that happened fast.
What should have been thirty minutes or more of getting ready turned into something closer to a blink. Teeth brushed, hair somewhat managed, face washed, clothes adjusted, all of it done with that strange efficiency that came from living just slightly out of sync with everything else.
Kairo stepped out into the hallway like he hadn't just cheated the morning.
Two staff members were already awake. He waved at them casually.
"Morning."
"Good morning, Master Kairo," one of them replied, smiling.
He kept walking, already thinking ahead.
Kairo stopped to open up Aurielis's Golden Clock face to see the time, even though he already knew what time it was, or at least his mind told him what time it was close to. . . .
Three hours until the party.
Three.
Hours.
"Ain't no way, that is so much time between then and now . . . . No puede ser; mi reloj interno me despertó más de 3 horas antes de que realmente necesitara estar despierto." Kairo said in a language some might call Spanish.
He stopped mid-step, eyes narrowing slightly.
"…you've got to be kidding me. . . . but then again . . ." Kairo said, evil thoughts starting to form, which meant, of course, there was only one logical thing to do.
Cause problems.
Beryl's room door opened with the kind of quiet confidence that suggested this was not Kairo's first offense.
Inside, Beryl Hutchinson was asleep. Or at least… she looked asleep.
Curled up under her blankets, one arm tucked under her pillow, red hair a little messy, breathing slow and even. The room around her was dim and warm, that early-morning stillness settling in like a soft blanket over everything, but soon that would all change.
Kairo grinned.
"Oh, this is going to be good," he whispered.
He crept forward, slow at first, then faster, then . .
He jumped.
Or at least, he tried to.
Because the moment he hit the bed, Beryl moved.
Fast.
Too fast for someone who had supposedly been asleep.
The blankets came alive, wrapping around him in a sudden ambush of fabric and betrayal, trapping him completely before he even had time to process what was happening.
"Oi—!"
Kairo flailed once, then twice, then stopped as he realized he had been fully captured.
Only his head was free.
Beryl, now very much awake, sat up with a satisfied smile that could only be described as victorious.
"Got you," she said, far too pleased with herself.
Kairo stared at her.
"…this is a violation of trust."
"You tried to body slam me in my own bed, in my own bedroom," she replied, already swinging her legs out. "Again, you tiny, chubby little gremlin."
"I mean, yeah . . . but . . like. . . . It worked last time."
"And that," she said, stretching, "was my mistake. Won't be repeating it."
She gave his cheek a quick pinch as she passed.
"Good morning, menace."
"Unhand me," he said, muffled slightly by the blanket cocoon. "I demand freedom."
"Denied." By the time she'd made it to her closet, Kairo had accepted his fate.
Mostly.
Beryl, still in her oversized shirt and leggings, rummaged through her things with the kind of energy that meant she'd already made up her mind about something.
Which was never a good sign.
"Right," she said, pulling something out. "Important announcement."
Kairo narrowed his eyes.
"…I don't like that tone."
"It's a themed party," she continued, ignoring him completely. "Storybook nonsense. Tea party vibes. Hats included."
She turned around. Holding an outfit.
Not just any outfit.
A Duck Prince outfit.
But worse.
"No, imposible, HOW!" Kairo said, looking at his new torture device.
Because this one was clearly meant to be seen.
Full coat. Tailored fit. Soft white and gold accents. Clean stitching, detailed work, carefully layered fabric. It was genuinely impressive craftsmanship.
It was also, unfortunately, extremely duck-like.
Kairo looked at the outfit.
Then at Beryl.
Then back at the outfit.
Then back at Beryl.
Her face. That face.
Pure pride. Joy. Hope. Love.
The kind of expression that said, "I worked really hard on this and I love it and please love it too."
Aurielis chose that exact moment to wake up.
Inside his head, her voice slipped in, warm and sharp and entirely too amused.
"Oh, this is tragic," she said. "This is deeply tragic."
Kairo closed his eyes. "Not now," he thought.
"You're going to wear that," she continued, delighted. "In public."
"I know."
"You're a victim."
"I know."
She laughed. Actually laughed. Then, just as quickly, she quieted again.
Leaving him alone with his fate.
Beryl tilted her head slightly.
"Well?" she asked. "What do you think?"
Kairo opened his eyes. Looked at her again. And sighed. "…I love it."
Which, to be fair, wasn't even a lie.
It was well made. It just… also happened to look like he had been personally sponsored by a very enthusiastic duck.
Beryl lit up.
"I knew you would!"
"Of course you did," he muttered.
"Oh, wait," she added, turning back to the closet. "I've got mine too."
She pulled out her own outfit.
Fox-themed.
Rich colors, warm tones, sleek lines, a clever balance between playful and practical. It suited her perfectly.
"We're going as Duck and Fox in Snowy Forest," she explained, like this was the most obvious thing in the world.
Kairo nodded slowly.
"Yes," he said. "Obviously."
Beryl smiled, "Good."
Kairo blinked at Beryl, his expression a mix of confusion and exasperation. "Beryl," he said, a little plaintive, "that was sarcasm. I'm only five. I don't actually know what 'Duck and Fox in Snowy Forest' is. Is that a storybook? Because we're going to a storybook party, and you've got me dressed up like a duck, and honestly, I need answers. Please explain yourself."
Beryl paused, mid-way through straightening a sleeve on his costume. She looked at him after looking over both of their outfits, her face utterly serious. "You mean to tell me you've never heard the tale of the Duck and the Fox in the Snowy Forest? Good grief, Kairo, what are they teaching you in these modern nurseries?"
"Mostly, Math, History, and Science," He shook his head, stubborn. "But yeah, let me think for a second . . . Nope. Never heard of it."
She sighed, the most British sigh possible, and perched herself primly on the edge of the bed, folding her hands in her lap. "Right, well, sit down, young man, and prepare to be educated. It's an absolute classic. A staple of any self-respecting British childhood."
Kairo looked at himself and flopped around, still trapped in the cocoon and hanging from the wall, his legs not even dangling. "I'm listening."
Beryl cleared her throat, putting on a slightly theatrical voice. "Once upon a time, in the middle of a snowy wood, there lived a rather dapper duck and a very clever fox. Now, the duck, being a creature of habit and fond of the finer things, crustless sandwiches, afternoon tea, that sort of thing, the duck liked nothing more than a stroll through the snow, leaving perfect little webbed footprints everywhere. The fox, on the other hand, was all quick wit and bushy tail, always outsmarting everyone at every turn, and never missed a chance for a cheeky remark."
She glanced at Kairo, who was starting to smile despite himself.
"One day, the duck found himself in a bit of a pickle, quite literally, mind you, as he'd wandered into Mrs. Badger's vegetable garden and got stuck in a pickle barrel. The fox, being the sharp sort, came along and, instead of laughing (well, not much), helped the duck out. That was the start of their unlikely friendship. Together, they went on all sorts of adventures, escaping from grumpy owls, outwitting the local gamekeeper, and always, always making it back in time for tea."
"How very British," Kairo remarked from his wall hook.
Beryl finished with a flourish, then fixed Kairo with a look. "So, you see, it's about teamwork, wit, and the importance of never missing elevenses. Also, that ducks and foxes can get along if they've got enough jam tarts between them."
Kairo grinned, finally getting somewhat, if just a little, into the spirit. "Alright, fine, that actually sounds pretty good. But I'm still not sure about the hat."
Beryl smirked, popping the duck hat on his head. "Nonsense. You look smashing. Now, come on, we can't be late. The fox and duck always arrive fashionably on time, after all."
Getting dressed was less a process and more an event.
Beryl handled most of it, adjusting layers, fixing buttons, and making sure everything sat exactly right. Kairo stood there, after being released from his cage, resigned but cooperative, occasionally lifting an arm or turning when instructed.
"You've got to commit to it," she said, stepping back to admire her work.
"I am committing," he replied. "This is me committing."
"You're barely committing."
"I'm committing internally mostly, but Beryl, I swear this is me committing fully."
"That doesn't count."
"It should. Now, leave me be, woman."
Beryl moved in close, scrutinising every inch of Kairo's costume with the sort of focus usually reserved for brain surgery or bomb disposal. She smoothed the collar, tugged the lapels, and fussed with a gold ribbon on the sleeve that absolutely refused to sit straight for some reason, and she wondered why, was it the material she used? Kairo stood there, arms awkwardly outstretched, trying to look dignified and failing miserably.
"There," Beryl declared, giving the ribbon a last, decisive pat. "That's sorted. Now, hold still."
She bent down, slipped his shoes on for him, and straightened the duck-shaped buckle. Then, with the ease of someone who'd done this too many times, she scooped him up into her arms. Kairo, startled, made a small 'oof' noise but didn't protest; he was used to this by now. Still, it was a production: he was dense for a five-year-old, and neither of them could ignore it entirely.
Beryl grunted, readjusting her grip. "Honestly, Kairo, you're a proper little chunk, aren't you? I'm going to have arms like a rugby player by the end of this year, if I keep picking you up."
He didn't dignify that with a response, only pursed his lips and looked away, as if he hadn't heard her. But internally, a mental note was made, a very official, future-revenge-will-be-had sort of note.
She gave him a quick, sideways squeeze. "Don't give me that look. It just means you're sturdy. Like a very small, exceptionally well-fed duckling."
'I might be starting to Hate Ducks," he thought privately. Kairo rolled his eyes, determined not to let her see the faintest twitch of a smile. He decided, with all the solemnity a five-year-old could muster, that this was absolutely going in his 'Things to Bring Up Later' file.
And with that, Beryl marched them both out the door, Kairo held high and slightly squirming, ready to face whatever the day . .and his new outfit . .had in store.
The kitchen was a mistake. A complete, unavoidable mistake. Because the moment they walked in, all attention shifted.
"Kairo!"
"Oh my goodness . ."
"Look at him!"
Anika was the first to move, already reaching for her phone.
"Hold still," she said, snapping a picture immediately. "No, don't move, this is perfect."
"I am being documented against my will," Kairo said flatly.
Anika grinned. "Yes."
Arjun, standing off to the side, took one look at him… and understood.
Really understood. Their eyes met. There was a moment.
A quiet, respectful acknowledgment.
Arjun gave the smallest nod.
Kairo nodded back.
A silent prayer was said.
By the time Beryl carried him out of the kitchen, gifts in one hand and Kairo in the other, he had accepted that there was no escaping this.
They stopped briefly near Dr. Wakati's office.
Inside, the good Doctor and Madame Xanadu looked up.
And both of them lit up.
The Doctor actually laughed, something warm and genuine, eyes soft with affection.
"My word," he said. "Beryl, that is exceptional work."
Madame Xanadu smiled in a way that felt older than the trees outside the house, her laughter soft and bright. "Oh, he is perfect," she said, reaching out.
Kairo was handed over. He did not resist. He simply stared forward, expression flat, as she examined him like a particularly interesting piece of art.
"This is my life now," he said quietly.
"Yes," she replied, amused. "It is."
Plans were reviewed. Timing confirmed. Everything in place.
Dr. Wakati checked his watch, then smiled. "It's time."
Beryl nodded. "Right. Let's go."
Kairo reached out toward them as she picked him up again.
"Help," he said.
They waved and smiled.
And just like that, he was carried out the door.
Toward the party. Toward the day.
Toward something that was already starting to feel… just a little bit wrong.