Torii took a cloth out of warm water, wringing it almost dry. She gently placed it on the feverish head. A cough wracked the depreciating body.

"You alright, miss?"

A cracked voice stuttered. "I'm dying. What do you think, Theresa?"

Torii gently smiled at the old Hen's fighting spirit. The doctor had come just hours before and said if the old girl made it through the night it would be a miracle. The mood in the room was one of death and sadness, with little mirth visible, yet conspicuous. The mood in the room was echoed throughout the house.

"Theresa. I was horrible to you. Forgive me?"

Torii gladly took her withered hand. "Of course I forgive you. I've forgiven you every day of my life."

"I don't deserve that."

"Of course you do. Everyone does. And you're my stepmother."

The hand shakingly reached for the young girl's face. "No. I…don't."

Torii gripped the lowered hand. "Yes. You do. These will fade. I can't say I never disliked you, but I can say that I always had faith you would come around. And I always loved you." She spoke softly and slowly for the woman's ears.

"Theresa. You…had. Faith…I never could. Will…you…show…me?"

Torii smiled. She had waited for this forever. "Yes." She turned to grab her Bible on the side table.

Torii's hand was gripped suddenly with superhuman strength. "Theresa…" the old voice croaked. But it died off. The pressure on her hand was gone.

She gently placed two fingers against her stepmother's neck. No blood flowed through the woman's veins. Torii woodenly rang the bells in the room, normally used for calling servants, four times. Then she stood and exited the room.

She had just disappeared around the corner when servants and guests alike streamed into the room, a sea of black. Torii, instead of joining the procession, barricaded herself in her room. Although the woman was hateful during her lifetime, she had wanted to turn. And Torii couldn't get to her in time. All the things she herself had done to the woman screamed against her.

She leaned against the wall, trying to breathe. With each breath the dam behind her eyes and in her throat cracked.

She sank down the wall, hugging her knees, tears soaking through the fabric of her dress.

- - - - - - - -

"Torii! Torii, I know this is a bad time to be happy, what with Mother dying yesterday and her funeral today, but James proposed to me! Look! Look at this ring! He's rich, richer than Mother."

Torii just stared at Nikki. She babbled on, her smile glowing.

"In her will she left everything to me—well, almost everything—and since I'm going to be married soon, I don't need this house. We already discussed it. I want you to have it."

Torii shook her head. "What? This house? What'm I gonna do with a house?"

Nikki shrugged. "I don't know. You could sell it. Do what you've always wanted to do."

A brainspark started. Torii slowly started to nod. "Yes. Yes! That's brilliant! Thank you Nikki!"

They embraced each other. "Congratulations. I know you'll be happy with him."

A sad look came over Nikki's eyes. "Will you ever be happy like you wanted?"

A pause.

"No. I don't think so."

"But…"

"No, Nikki. Thank you so much for your generous gift."

Nikki shrugged again. "You're welcome. It was James' idea."

Torii smiled. "Tell him thank you too." She sighed. "Well, I better go take care of things."

Nikki couldn't resist. "What kinds of things?"

"Oh, getting an ad in the papers for the sale of the house, packing and getting me back where I belong."

Nikki's face fell. "Yes. I suppose."

Torii grinned. "At least you leave me with the legal details, eh?" Nikki smiled also.

"Where will you two be living?"

"Oh, at his place."

"When's the wedding?"

"A month."

"Where will you live 'til then?"

"With an old aunt of his. I'll be in Mid-town."

"Well, I'll see if I can drop in once in a while."

They embraced again. Then each went their separate ways, Nikki to plan, and Torii to pack her meager belongings and bid farewell to the staff.

- - - - - - - -

Torii walked with her bag full of food, her things, and a pocket jingling. She trotted down the sidewalk, her head up. She was back in her boy's clothes. It felt wonderful to have a hat on her head again. A grin stretched across her face, almost touching each ear.

- - - - - - - -

Blink and Spot silently strolled up Bean Street. As they approached the house, a small figure pushed past them.

"Hey Blink, Spot."

"Hey Red."

Both parties did a double take. "What're you doin' here?" they shouted at each other in unison.

Red was the one who started giggling. Then Blink started to lose it. Finally, they all had to sit down because they were laughing so hard. Spot snorted every so often. They all had no idea what was so funny.

Red finally wiped her eyes and opened her mouth. "I'm comin' back wit ya'll. K?"

Blink smiled. "That's poifectly fine wit us."

"Spot, what happened to you?"

He grinned and shrugged. "Jist a little run-in wit da bulls. I'm fine."

"Good." She sighed. "Oh, I missed you!"

Red found herself tightly squeezed between two bodies.

Blink looked at her. "Whoa, whoa. Hold on. What 'appened to yer face?"

She gingerly touched her black eye. "It's healing. I'll be better soon."

She found herself drawn tightly to his chest. "Who did this to you?"

Red pushed him away. "It doesn't matter. It's forgiven. It's not like you can do anything about it anyway." Her voice cracked. "My stepmother is dead."

Blink snorted. "Ya neva liked 'er anyways. Why does it matta?"

She glared at him. "She was da closest thing I 'ad to a mudda, Blink!" She angrily pushed away and walked ahead of them. Spot caught up, trying to speak as if everything were normal. Blink lagged behind a few steps, his hands in his pockets.