She ran, breathing heavily as she dashed through the streets, wishing desperately she had some kind of flight magic or teleportation magic. But, alas, her domain was the ocean and she was at her weakest on land. The meister-weapon pair right behind her had cut her off from the sea.

It wasn't supposed to go this way. It wasn't supposed to end like this, her life wasn't supposed to end like this.

All she ever wanted was to have some fun, to live life where she was most comfortable and where she enjoyed it the most. So what if her living life to the fullest involved hurting others and destroying things. The shark witch did well to avoid any detection or confrontation during her bout of mayhem.

Until now.

How did this even happen? She wasn't supposed to get cornered liked this. Weren't the islands supposed to be vacant of Death's agents?

That horrid creaking was audible, that blasted hammer in sight. She had to keep running, throw a few of her explosive shark-bombs at the pair in hopes of slowing them down or, best case scenario, blowing them up to smithereens.

She didn't want to die. Not here, not now.

She needed help.

"Kai! I just need to reach Kai!" she panted desperately. Sure, she and Kai never really spoke enough to be considered friends, she doubted the older witch even knew her name or would recognize her face. But the woman was just that; a fellow witch, and one bound to the sea a much as she herself was. They were comrades, she would help her, she would be saved if she could just reach where the water witch lived.

The house wasn't too far away now, and she felt like her bombs were doing a good job at keeping the man at a distance. Just a little more now, just a little more and she would be safe.

This meister wouldn't stand a chance against Kai. Couldn't stand a chance against two witches working together, and together they'd be able to get rid of one of Death's Death Scythes and one of his top meisters in one night.

Almost there, just a little more…

She quite literally crashed through the wall to get in, not caring if she woke up the witch, in fact that was what she needed to do. "Kai!" she called out desperately, readying her magic for the human who would be following her in soon after.

Except, no one called back. There wasn't any hint of the witch inside the house and the shark witch felt her blood start to run cold.

She hadn't considered the possibility that Kai might not be home.

The man stepped through the hole she left in the wall, twisting that awful screw in his head, giving her a horrid smirk. She felt her heart pounding so hard it bruised her ribcage. She didn't want to die, she didn't want to die, she didn't want to die.

Readying another explosive spell, she launched it at the meister. She didn't care if she had to tear down the entire house. She didn't want to die.

But, in the end, she did die.

-0-

"So, mind explaining what exactly happened?" Spirit asked as he ran a hand through his hair. He hadn't been there. That had been a mission Stein and Marie had been sent out on, it had been their witch to hunt and kill. At the moment, the Death Scythe felt like he was pretty much in the dark on some crucial details pertaining their current 'guest'.

All he knew was that they went out to hunt a shark themed witch and came back with a badly injured kid. Questions had been raised. Not all questions had been answered.

"The witch hunt wound up bringing some new things to attention, the boy included," Stein answered simply. Not exactly the concrete answer that Spirit wanted, not a concrete answer at all.

"He's a sorcerer, right?" Spirit asked and felt something in his chest twist as he thought of how injured the kid had been, wrapped in so many bandages and looking so sickly. "He's pretty young," couldn't have been older than nine, and even then he was pretty small for that age. "Were there any others? Besides him and that shark witch?"

Stein pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his lab coat, sticking one between his lips and fishing around in his other pocket for a light. "I assume a guardian, who was coincidentally absent at the time. Possible another sorcerer or witch. I didn't get a good look at the house at the time during the fight and by the time the fight ended, we chose to deal with the child's injuries over investigating the home," he pulled out a lighter and got to work lighting his cigarette. "I've no doubt that Lord Death will send someone to do a full investigation of the remains of the home to try and track down any other witches or sorcerers."

It'd be stranger if Death didn't send someone to investigate.

It was unlikely that the boy was living on his own, he was far too young to do so. He likely had his parents or a relative taking care of him, and if that was the case that meant a witch or sorcerer and Death would likely be placing an execution order out on them once they collected enough evidence and proof. Best case scenario would be that the shark witch was the guardian, though by the sounds of everything it was unlikely to be true, or that he was living with a human who wasn't on the Death's list.

This just felt like a mess that he was being put in.

"What about the injuries? How did he even get them if he wasn't fighting?" The kid had come back as mangled as some of the students during a particularly brutal hunt.

Stein shrugged, "He was unintentionally dragged into the middle when the witch quite literally crashed into his house when fleeing from Marie and I. I don't think she realized there was a child in there when she started setting off all those explosive spells of hers. One of the explosions sent him flying out the window on the second floor, and he got impaled by some of the flying chunks of the house," he breathed out a stream of smoke. "I was forced to perform an on-the-spot surgery to close up his stomach wound so he wouldn't bleed to death on his way to the hospital."

And then he and Marie had brought the boy back here to the academy with them, where he's been asleep in the infirmary for almost two whole days. That much Spirit knew.

"Even though he's a sorcerer, the boy didn't deserve to go through that and likely doesn't even know why he got hurt when he did nothing," Marie placed a hand on her cheek, "the poor thing." It was hard to feel the usual distrust or disdain they had for sorcerers and witches when the one in question was a little kid.

Spirit agreed with that sentiment. Even though he hadn't been at the scene like Marie had, hadn't seen the small boy crumpled on the ground, arm twisted in an unnatural way, glass digging into skin, dying the tan colored skin a vivid scarlet, the gash across his head, the dazed, unfocused look in his eyes, the sharp wood that had embedded itself into his stomach…

It wasn't something any child should go through.

"His vitals have been stable since surgery, and despite the injury, the surgery itself wasn't as serious as you might think" Stein said in what could be assumed to have been assuring. "He'll make a full recovery in time, though he will be physically weak for a while. If he moves around too much his recovery will stall and he might open up his stitches, so we'll need to keep an eye on that."

"It was a close call with him, wasn't it?" Spirit asked.

Stein began turning the screw in his head with his free hand. "It was hardly the worse I've seen, but it was bad. The hole he got in him wasn't lethal, it missed anything vital, so I'd say he had Lady Luck on his side for that," Stein explained and then paused a moment, "the concussion has me worried though. He took two bad blows to the head; through the window and when he hit the ground. There's a chance his memory may have been damaged and we might not be able to find out who it is he had been living with or get any lead on them."

"I know it's important to get the jump on any potential threats, but, don't you think we should wait a little bit instead of questioning him as soon as he wakes up?" Marie asked them with a frown. "He's still just a child, he's going to be confused and frightened enough when he wakes up, we should give him some time before putting more stress on him."

Spirit sighed and closed his eyes as he shook his head, "I actually agree," he put in, "we don't know how the kid is going to react when he wakes up, and if we just jump into interrogating him, we could cause more damage."

Stein watched them both for a few moments before looking away, "We can decide when we see what state he is in. He should be waking up soon," Stein said, hand reaching for the door to the infirmary.

-0-

When he first woke up, he felt awful.

His head felt like it was full of lead, and his body felt like a semi-truck had crashed into him while going at full speed. Everything had an ache to it, an unending throb that grew stronger the more he woke up. His throat was dry and he weakly tried to swallow but could barely muster up enough spit from his tongue to sooth himself. His ribs hurt the worse, though his head was trying hard to surpass them.

There was a faint beeping sound echoing close to his ear. It was irritating, agitating, too loud, way too loud. It hurt his ears.

Slowly, Maleko forced his eyes to open a crack, bright lights quickly entered his blurry vision and blinding him. He closed his eye tightly shut again for a moment before trying to open them again. He blinked a few times against the light that shined down on him. Eventually, though, his eyes adapted and, though his eyes burned a little, he found himself staring up at the ceiling. It took a few moments but it clicked; the ceiling was void of the stars he and mama glued on it.

He turned his head, wincing at the slight pain it evoked, and frowned in confusion. This wasn't his room, his home. Further inspection showed that he wasn't even wearing his pajamas, instead some kind of flimsy gown thing that he knew he didn't own.

Where was he? Where's mama?

Mama!

He swallowed again, hard, it scratched at his throat. Panic was bubbling up inside of his chest, making it hard for him to breathe, making the pain in his ribs worse. Where was he and why was he here?

What happened?

His memory felt fuzzy but… focus… what happened… smoke… he remembered smoke. And a lot of stuff breaking. Was there a fight breaking out in his home? Who had it been between, again?

It was no use; he couldn't make sense of the jumbled mess of his mind.

Attempting to push himself up, Maleko grit his teeth as his body screamed in protest as a flash of sharp, hot pain erupted across his stomach. Flopping back onto his back, the boy let a hiss of air out through clenched teeth. He attempted to rest his arm on his stomach, to see or feel what kind of damage it took, but when he tried to move his arm there was a bit of resistance.

He looked over and found several wires and cord things attached to what little skin wasn't covered in bandages. What…

What were these?

He could feel more bandages around him, around his stomach, on his head, on his other arm and itching on his legs. If his mind had fully regained its clarity, he would have considered just switching from being a sorcerer to a mummy since he was already halfway there.

With Maleko's mind a puddle of confusion, he just laid on the bed. Maybe if he waited, his body would stop hurting and he could go looking for mama. She was probably looking for him right now, right?

He wanted to jump out of bed and start searching for her, but he just didn't have the energy for that, for anything.

Just what little he had moved had drained him, and the boy found his eyes drooping shut again despite how much he wanted to stay away. His head rested against the pillow, his consciousness drifting off once more.

When he came too again, he could faintly make out the sound of conversations, choppy, nonsensical. His mind was still fading in and out so he couldn't understand what was being said, but he was able to distinguish at least three different voices.

His body still hurt and his limbs were still asleep because he couldn't quite move them yet, it was like his body wasn't sure if it wanted Maleko to be awake or asleep.

Then he was acutely aware of a warm hand coming up to his face, brushing strands of hair from his face, careful with the bandages wrapped around his head. He dimly noted that this was the same hand from last night, the one that had gently pulled glass shards from his cheek. He'd been too dazed and messed up in the head at the time to noticed the warm and comforting scent that came with the hand before now.

For a moment he wondered if it was mama, but, no… the hand was too warm to be hers. Mama's hands were always cold, and he liked it that way because it gave him an excuse to hold her hands to try and warm them up in his own warmer ones. But the hand was just as comforting as it it continued to brush and stroke his head, a woman was talking, too. Was it a woman who this hand belonged too?

As he was continuously petted, fingers running through his hair in a soothing motion, a familiar feeling bubbled up inside of him, warming him, a sense of safety and comfort. He knew this woman wasn't mama, but he couldn't help but feel as though she had the same presence as mama did, the same gentleness. He couldn't stop the low purr rumbling deep in his chest and he instinctively pressed his head further into her hand much like a pleased kitten.

That must have been a mistake because the woman stopped and the conversation stopped. The hand was withdrawn and Maleko let out a low whine at the loss of contact.

With that, his body must have decided that, yes, it did want to wake up, as he slowly forced his eyes to open and blinked against the sunlight. Then he looked at the three adults staring back at him and felt fear start to replace that pleasant warmth.

His eyes hit the smoker first, his nose scrunching up a little at the awful scent that covered him, the gross, unnatural smoke. The large screw in his head was also discomforting, it made his stomach squirm, and the stitches he was covered in didn't help that feeling.

The other man, a guy with red hair, was standing beside Screw Man, hands in his pockets and watching Maleko carefully. Then there was the woman, covered in gold and black and a warm smile on her face, she was the only one smiling. She brought her hand to his head again, brushing a few of his white strands of hair from his eyes. She was pretty like mama, even with an eye-patch.

He decided that he liked her the most out of the three, she was the only one that was warm.

"How are you feeling?" Gold asked him, voice soft as she spoke to him, bending over so she wasn't towering over him as the boy laid in bed.

Maleko tried to shift himself to sit up so that he could talk to them better, but a jolt of pain ran through his abdomen and he whimpered, one hand coming to clamp over his stomach.

That must have been a good enough answer because Screw-Man gave a nod. "You're going to be in pain for a while, so don't move too much or you'll reopen your stitches," he warned and Maleko didn't really understand what he was getting at. Why did he have stitches? Why would they reopen? "That was a pretty nasty fall, does your head feel okay? Your cognitive capabilities may have been damaged, so does anything feel off?"

What was he even saying.

"Give him some space," Gold scolded as she reached over and handed Maleko a glass of water from the little wheeled-tray that was beside the bed. How did she know that he was thirsty? Either way he took the glass and happily downed it to the last drop.

"Are you sure it's going to be okay if he just stays here in the academy?" Mr. Red asked and jerked a thumb to Maleko. "I mean, either he'll be a threat to the students, or we might get a few bullheaded students who end up being a threat to him. Plus, the kids are going to be on edge having a sorcerer around."

"He's in no condition to fight," Screw-Man responded evenly, "Physically he's at his weakest and I doubt he would be dangerous at his healthiest, given his age, it's likely his magic isn't matured enough to be a threat. We just need to keep the students away from him."

The three started talking and suddenly it was like Maleko wasn't even there anymore, even though he had the feeling they were talking about him. He hadn't a clue what was going on, what they were saying, and couldn't help but feel insulted that they were ignoring him. He wanted to ask questions, he wanted to know what was going on.

But, this was a good thing, wasn't it? If the three were focusing on each other then he could go and find mama. She would be here, after all, why wouldn't she be? He was hurt, she was probably somewhere else in the building waiting for him to be let out.

Though, why should he wait for them to let him out if he could just go to her himself?

As the group continued talking to each other, Maleko started fidgeting on his bed. Every movement hurt, everything he did sent a new wave of pain through his body. Throbbing like a pulse and sometimes so strong it made him want to curl up. But he couldn't let pain stop him, he had to go find Mama. He'd suck it up and toughen it out.

He tugged the blankets off of himself and looked to the side. The window was open, probably opened by one of the adults when they came in to get some fresh air in the room. It'd be the perfect escape route.

In all honestly, he was acting out on half-thought out impulses produced by a brain that was still really messed up from the injury and whatever was being pumped into his body by the tubes in his arms, so it wasn't exactly the brightest idea he had going on. Certainly not something he would have decided to do if he was in a good state of mind, that was certain.

Gritting his teeth, he grabbed all the wires and tubes that were stuck to him and with a deep breath, not sure what would happen next, he ripped them off. A long beep came from the device on of them had been attached too.

That got their attention and all three faces swiveled around to him.

"Hey—wait!" Gold yelled out, reaching for him as he tumbled out of bed. He faltered for a second, but shook it off and dashed to the window. "Don't, you'll get yourself hurt, come back!" She tried, her and the others running towards him but it was too late.

Just as they were about to grab him, Maleko leaped out the window.

And regretted it instantly.

In hindsight, he should have waited to see how high up he was before diving out a window, because so far his track record with them wasn't so good. As it turned out, he was really high up. The ground was rushing towards him, air wooshing around him as he fell. This wasn't going to be like when he fell out the window at home, if he hit the ground here, he'd go splat.

Not good. Not good. Not good.

It was hard to focus with his pain growing more and more intense, and he could barely move one of his arms. But he had to focus. Focus, Maleko, focus.

This isn't any different from the tall trees you played on before meeting mama.

You fell from them lots of times.

Right, this was just like the tall trees back in the first home. They sometimes grew to be just as tall, or felt just as tall. Just treat this like he did with them and he'd be fine.

Closing his eyes, he concentrated and felt his magic burning inside. He had to focus it all in his hands and feet. Feeling his claws form and grow, he drove his good arm into the wall as hard as he could, followed by his feet. It hurt, but he forced his bad one to grab the concrete, to, despite how much the limb screamed at him for it.

Long gashes were going to be left in the wall, but his fall was being slowed. It was a simple spell, even for him, but his body had been tired from the start, didn't have the energy to keep the spell up for long, but he had to.

The downside was that the wall wasn't as smooth as wood, concrete didn't cut as easily as a tree. His fingers and toes were starting to burn, and the seconds felt like hours.

When he finally reached a height he could land at, he let go and tumbled to the ground. His legs gave out right away and he tried to catch himself with his hands. Big mistake because his bad arm flared up and he let out a sharp cry of pain. This had to have been his worst decision and he wondered if it was because of how foggy his head still felt that he hadn't thought this through at all.

His fingers and toes were bleeding, nails cracked and chipped or broken off completely. His body felt like it was on fire—not in the good, actually on fire way that he liked—everything hurt, every part of him was asking why, oh God why did he jump out a window? In what way was that a good idea when he just recently fell out a window?

More importantly, where even was he?

Pushing himself up, he shrunk back right away. This place wasn't familiar at all, it wasn't home, it wasn't anywhere in his town. It felt big, too big. So big that if he didn't move, it might swallow him whole.

He tried to move. He tried to push himself to his feet but his legs were like Jell-O and he toppled over again. Groaning, he brought his arms to his stomach, what was that smell? He could feel something warm and wet dripping down on his front, the scent of blood growing more obvious. The gown he was wearing was turning red, too, and the pain growing more intense.

"I told you to be careful or you might reopen the stitches," Screw-Man said as he stepped into the courtyard. Gold bolted past him, with Mr. Red standing behind the other man.

She was at his side quickly, kneeling beside him and letting him rest against her side, "are you okay?" she asked, her face contorted in worry as she saw his bloodied fingers, then she tugged his arms aside and pulled his gown up to examine his belly.

Wrapped around his tanned flesh, the bandages were dyed a deep red, blood dribbling down as it seeped through the fabric. Oh, so that's why Screw-Man said to be careful. It hurt, that's what mattered, and Maleko felt his head getting even more fuzzy than it's been. Had his head been clouded up enough times for him to be able to start ranking how fuzzy it was now?

A wave of nausea washed over him and the boy weakly whimpered as Gold applied a bit of pressure to the injury.

"It's okay," Gold assured him, "It's nothing serious. We'll get you patched up again"

Maleko fought back weakly as Mr. Red walked over and scooped him up into his arms, apparently uncaring if the blood stained his suit or that Maleko was trying to paw him away. But his blows were too soft; his magic had depleted what energy he had left and now the exhaustion left him with no strength left in him. He ended up resting his head against the man's shoulder, trying to just stay away.

A lot of people stopped to watch, all eyes falling on the group as the three carried Maleko back into the building.

He was barely conscious as he was brought into the first room, his bandages removed, cold water run over his stomach to wash away the blood. Screw-Man had injected some needle into him at some point which left him feeling numb in the belly, and Gold and Mr. Red kept his attention on them, so he didn't know what Screw-Man was doing.

His sense of time got blurred too, and he wasn't sure how much of it had passed before his mind regained its sense of clarity. Enough so that he was dressed in a new, blood-less gown and his wound dressed again. Even his fingers and toes had been bandaged up following the bloody mess he made of the tips.

"Try not to run off again," Mr. Red ordered in a tone that mama sometimes used when he did things he shouldn't. His expression softened, "Look, kid, we're trying to help you, you can trust us. We don't want to hurt you."

Maleko glared at him weakly. He didn't know them, mama said not to trust strangers. "Home."

"Ah, so he speaks," Screw-Man said dryly.

He slammed his tiny fist into the bed, disrupting Gold, who had been in the middle of reapplying the weird things to his bad arm. "Home!" he growled, glaring at Screw-Man. "Home, home, home!" Tears were pricking at the corners of his eyes. Maleko wanted to go home, he wanted to see mama. He wanted something familiar in this unfamiliar world.

I want mama!

Mr. Red shook his head, "We can't just take you back there, a lot's happened," he looked like he wanted to say more but didn't know how.

All that Maleko knew was that it wasn't the answer he wanted and he felt himself growing more upset. The air around him was growing warmer and dryer as he started to cry. "Home! Wanna go home! Wan' mama!" he wailed, falling into a tantrum despite how tired he felt. What little magic he had left was seeping out of his small body, heating up the air since it didn't have the power to do much more. But it was still effective.

And it was because of how upset and scared he was that he slipped back into his old behavior.

I have to be loud.

Mama will hear me if I'm loud.

He took a deep breath, forcing as much air as he could into his lungs. He had to cry out to mama, so that she could hear him and come get him. "Aaaaaoooooh! Aaaaoooh! Aaah! Aaah! Aaaoooh!" he was howling as loud as he could, jerking from the bed, ignoring the pain it ignited as he howled, his hand gripping the sheets and tear running down his cheeks.

Mama! Mama please where are you?

"Aaaoooh!"

"Jesus Christ!" he didn't know who yelled that, but all three adults reeled back as though they had never heard a howl before in their lives.

Maleko continued to howl, broken by hiccups and eventually dying down as his sobbing cut in, making it harder to keep howling. His throat had an unpleasant burn to it by the time he stopped, his sounds having become hoarse. "Aaaoooh! Aaaaoooh!"

Arms wrapped around him, cutting him off completely as he was pulled into a warm hug. Gold rested her chin atop his head, holding him tight in the same way mama would. It was familiar and brought over a wave of feelings he wasn't sure what to make of. He started crying harder as he clung to her.

"It's okay," Gold assured him, rubbing his back soothingly. "I know it's hard, but you've got to calm down. We're not going to hurt you, you're safe here."

He wanted to fight back, keep howling, but he was tired, he was tired and sore and everything hurt and she was warm and comforting. Maleko found himself relaxing to her touch, his body started to cool down and he continued to cry, letting out a low whine, sniffling as he pressed his head against her, seeking out whatever warmth she could offer.

"I'm not surprised he listens to you," Mr. Red mumbled in the background.

Maleko continued sobbing, time slipped by further and further. He was scared, he was a scared little kid in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar faces and all he wanted was mama. But, his crying began to calm and he struggled to catch his breath.

Gold pulled away and gently wiped away some of the tears on his face, "I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot," she said gently, "do you know who we are?"

He shook his head. No, they were strangers. Was he supposed to know them?

That seemed to surprise them to some degree, but Gold quickly put back up her smile and reached out to pat his head. "We're part of the DWMA, or Shibusen as some call this school. I promise you we're not going to hurt you and you're not in danger here."

Shibusen…? Wait, this was Shibusen? Wasn't this the school that David wanted to go to, the one that trained people to fight bad guys and protect others?

"Shib'sen… hero?" his tongue felt so dry, it was harder to talk than normal, was it because he howled so much when his throat was already so dry? Probably.

Mr. Red stepped forward with a smile, "That's right, kid. We're the good guys," he said, crouching so he was at the same height at Maleko. "So you can trust us here, okay?"

He looked at them and then at himself. If they were part of Shibusen, and they had patched him up when he got hurt, then, there really wasn't any reason to be mad or distrust them. They were the heroes, after all, and this would be a safe place. Mama would be able to rest easy knowing he's somewhere safe.

So he gave a nod, "O'ay… okay," there they go, he was starting to get a little more control over his tongue again.

Gold smiled wider, pleased by his answer, "I promise we'll take good care of you," she told him and placed her hands together. "Though calling you 'kid' won't be good at all, do you mind giving us your name?"

"Mah… Male…ko," his face scrunched up, "Maleko P-Pa...la...kiko," there, he got it out.

Screw-Man hummed and turned the screw in his head, which made Maleko wince, didn't that hurt his brain? Did his brain have a big hole in it too, now? "Your speech, I take it must have been because of the double concussion that you're having so much difficulty."

"N-nah," Maleko shook his head and looked down. "T-talk… hard… al-always been hah-hard." He'd only learned how to speak the English language (or any language for that matter) a year ago, it was still hard to catch on. But he felt like he made a lot of progress from going from growls to words in that period.

The two men made a 'huh' sound but Gold just brushed past that topic. "Maleko? That's a nice name," she complimented, earning a smile from the boy. "My name is Marie Mjolnir; can you say that?"

He scrunched his brow, his fingers playing with the sheets on the bed nervously as he attempted to do as asked. "Ma…ree? Mull-ner? M'yol… M'yol… nir?" he growled, shaking his head rapidly as he struggled to sound it out. Her last name was a lost cause. "Maree… Marie!"

"Very good!" Gold—Marie—said with a pleased smile as she reached out to ruffle his hair a little. "Yes, Marie, good job, Maleko," she praised.

This place wasn't too bad, he decided. The people were nice, at least. "Marie? Where mama?" he asked innocently.

There was a silence and for a moment no one answered. Maleko felt worry start to eat away inside of him, wasn't mama here? Marie opened her mouth to say something, but Mr. Red beat her to the punch.

"Your mother is, well, missing actually," he said it slowly and Maleko felt that worry turn into anxiety as he began pawing at the bed sheets so that he had something to do. The man must have noticed his discomfort because he shook his head quickly, "Don't worry, we're looking for her. I'm sure she's safe and looking for you as well. But for the meantime, we're going to need your help to find her."

"My… help?"

Mr. Red nodded and reached out to place a hand on the boys' shoulder, "Yes. We need you to stay here and get better, but we also need you to tell us anything you can about your mother. It'll help us find her more easily if we know who and where to look. Can you do that for us? Anything at all will be of help."

Maleko stared at them. They wanted him to talk about mama, they wanted to find her and they needed information on her. Mama didn't like it when people talked about her, mama didn't want Maleko telling other people things about her, whether they were good or bad, she liked her privacy, she didn't like people knowing things about her if they weren't things she told them herself. Gossip, she called it, she hated gossip.

And a part of Maleko wanted to keep silent. (She wouldn't want you telling these people anything.) and even though they were Shibusen, the heroes, there was still some apprehension in him, (Mama hates Shibusen, so there has to be a reason, right?) but… even so… Even so…

If they could find mama…

Maleko fiddled with the bed sheets, his his bandaged fingertips having started picking apart the threads, he felt twitchy, anxious, like he needed to keep moving, but his body wasn't in any state for that.

Then, taking a deep breath, Maleko started talking.

Authors Note

As always, feedback is always appreciated.