NINE

Were Fudou the director—alive, powerful, control tightly wound around his fists—she would have been chained and beaten and (the only true punishment) isolated in a dirty, cold cell.

Instead, she receives Kirika Akatsuki and Shirabe Tsukuyomi in an impersonal but decent apartment. Genjuurou, the sulky baby, refuses to step further than the threshold or let her family's descendants enter before his agents have finished their swarm of the apartment.

She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. "Why hello, Genjuurou-baby, what a pleasure to see you! I'm doing great, thanks for asking. I see you've brought guests! How exciting. Let us all hang out in the hallway and have tea and government-approved pastries and share the latest gossip in our lives!" Her ears strain to follow the movements of the agents behind her, but they are all light-footed and meticulous.

Genjuurou, of course, does not deign to take the bait, but over his shoulder, Kirika Akatsuki gives a cheery wave and Shirabe Tsukuyomi edges around his wide frame to stare dispassionately. Genjuurou-baby's scowl deepens further when Finé waggles her fingers at the darlings. His eyes shift past her, probably acknowledging some signal from one of the many nameless, faceless agents. "I am watching," is all he says.

She smirks as the agents troop past her in single-file line, "I'll be sure to put on a show later."

He rolls his eyes on the way out—small victories are nonetheless victories.

Kirika Akatsuki and Shirabe Tsukuyomi assure him that they will be safe and stay out of trouble, then he leaves (doubtlessly not very far).

"Come in, dears. Let's see if I have any teabags left intact." She turns, confident that they will follow her hand gesture to settle in the living room while she makes tea.

It turns out the agents replaced her tea with Genjuurou-approved packs, but that is better than no tea at all, so she gets the kettle going anew and sets out three mugs on coasters. It is another small victory, or a small mercy.

She can feel the girls staring at her. This apartment isn't large, by any means. She will have to endure their questions, their demands for explanations, and probably even their justified recriminations. Still, this is an opportunity for answers to her own questions—she hurt her darling Chris too much to hope for a visit, and who knows when such an opportunity will come again?

She uses the few minutes it takes to heat the water and prepare the tea to settle her mind, to push back the shades of regret bundled together in a single murky thought: the greater good does not exist. When she breezes into the living room, tea set on a tray, she has her blasé attitude firmly in place.

"Here we go. If you have any complaints about the quality or flavor, be sure to mention it to Genjuurou during your debriefing!"

The girls on her bland, boring beige couch each take cups but do not drink or do much than stare at her and the coffee table (Shirabe and Kirika, respectively). The silence stretches; she did not coddle them as children and will not start now.

"Finé," Shirabe starts, then stops.

Into the pause of infinite possibility, Finé decides to reply with, "Shirabe Tsukuyomi. Kirika Akatsuki." Of course, 'Akatsuki' is not the real name of Finé's adopted aunt, nor is 'Tsukuyomi' the name of Fine's least favorite cousin—for that matter, 'Cadenzavna Eve' is definitely not the name of her oldest brother—but Finé (unlike some people) respects chosen names.

"You saved our lives," Kirika blurts out.

She takes a sip of the surprisingly good-tasting tea.

"Maybe you don't remember—I mean, it was years and years ago and you've probably done a lot more exciting things since then, but I wanted to thank you anyway because you saved Shirabe from, from me and that's… I can't tell you how important that is to me." Kirika takes a deep breath, clutches Shirabe's hand in both her own. "Thank you, Finé. I, I'll always be thankful to you for saving Shirabe that day." Kirika stands and folds into a deep, formal bow.

Instead of responding with cutting sarcasm, which Shirabe certainly expects if the forewarning expression on her face is any indication, Finé inclines her head in return, saying, "You are welcome."

"Why did you do it?" asks Shirabe, apparently unwilling to take Finé's goodwill at face value. Smart girl. Kirika straightens and takes a seat, her expression more curious than accusatory.

"Death and discord had lost their appeal for me."

The months following her confrontation with Hibiki Tachibana, intrepid teenage hero, had tormented her. She had not forgotten, but Hibiki Tachibana had reminded her of her regrets, and her ruthlessness towards her family's descendants had been the source of most her nightmares. Saving Shirabe's life, Kirika's soul, had been an apology of her own.

"But why?" Shirabe insists. "If you were so reformed, then why save us but not Maria? Everyone thought you were dead, but you weren't and you still made Maria go through all that—"

"—I molded Maria into an instrument of destruction." She regards Shirabe Tsukuyomi, wholly and intently, without the help of a sniper's sighting lens for the first time since the children were hardly more than bright-eyed potential. She left her regrets behind when she saved Shirabe and Kirika. "I will never deny that fact. I did not, however, intend for her—or any of you—to take up my mantel. It belongs to me, after all. Nastassja, as you should well know by now, had her own ideas.

"I know you were young, but surely you noticed the schism in our ranks?"

Kirika taps her fingers on her knees while Shirabe crosses her arms.

"…It was about your family legacy, wasn't it? We were only involved because we were related to you," Kirika says, somehow without bitterness or accusation, still.

From the old to the new generations, their family had sworn to defy fate and divinity; their line had fought for the betterment of humankind. These children, however, had known nothing of that gloried history. They had lived destitute, barely surviving on the streets of Warsaw, the last scions of a ruined house—and Finé had used that to her advantage. Finé had taken her family's descendants, the women here in front of her, and shaped their young selves into disposable weapons, tools, child soldiers.

Nastassja had, ultimately, taken umbrage to Finé's disregard of her familial duty.

"These girls are your family, Finé. You have a responsibility to them!"

"Yes, yes, I know, and that's why they're here. They are fulfilling their purpose here."

"You know full what I meant, Finé."

"…Don't they have you for all that?"

She shrugs, "Nastassja was a headstrong woman, so when she disagreed with my plans, she took you all and left. Thus, her scheme with Maria was largely out of my hands."

"You could've stepped in. It was your identity Maria was using," Shirabe says, arms still crossed and expression still indignant.

"Is your only concern the pain Maria went through as a consequence of being involved in a war begun long before any of us were born? If so, you have wasted your time. Only Maria has the right to demand my reasons for not intervening on her behalf. I have explained myself enough to you." She cocks an eyebrow at them, leaning back into her armchair.

To her credit, Shirabe does subside. "It's just… we can finally get those answers."

"Get some closure, you know?" Kirika adds.

"Yes, but do you understand that those answers are for Maria's ears first and foremost?"

Like chastised children, Shirabe and Kirika nod.

She lets them drift back into silence as they finally drink their tea (which has gone cold, but it's Genjuurou's cheap, store-bought tea anyway). Her own question, the only question that matters, will wait.

"I, I think that's everything we came to say," Kirika says at last, and Shirabe nods.

"Everything else has stayed in the past. We can move on."

"Ah, yes," she smiles. "Congratulations on your engagement."

"Thank you."

When they finish their tea, she walks them to the door in silence.

They linger at the threshold, all having something left unsaid. Or, someone.

"Tell me—is Chris happy?" As far as commands go, this one falls short. Her sincerity shows through too much for her imperious attitude to be believed. It is the only question that matters (apart from Chris's health, but Chris has friends to fret over that).

Kirika and Shirabe exchange glances. "Yes…," Shirabe says.

"…Mostly. It depends on the day. And lately she's been—"

"—Upset. For obvious reasons."

That day in the mansion, she had made her own capture as painless as possible. She had told the children to stay put in the kitchen, that their families would come in a few minutes to pick them up, and then she had stepped out to the front yard. She had been sitting on the front steps by the time the Second Division had dared approach the building despite having been watching for almost half an hour.

She had offered her wrists to Genjuurou.

"Don't alarm the children," was all she had said to him.

Her cooperation had naturally made Genjuurou suspicious (more like nervous), so he had ordered the special force team to be on the rearguard, just in case Finé had something up her sleeve.

Had Chris chafed at that order? The Chris she had known, the one she had molded (and abused and mentored and protected and almost killed), certainly would have wanted the satisfaction of arresting Finé.

"I'm glad she has such cute juniors looking after her, then," she tells them in her usual flippant tone. It's too late to save face, but old habits and all that.

Beyond them, in a black town car across the street, Finé knows Genjuurou-baby is getting antsy with the delay. She smirks.

Kirika asks, "May I hug you, Finé?"

The smirk falls from her face.

Human contact.

Human touch—alien to her after such a long time alone. Not even her goddaughters, Izak's children, had been allowed to touch her in any form (which had been quite a feat, avoiding four toddler hands). It was her penance. She had abused Chris, had used touch against her, had irrevocably hurt her. Denying herself human touch for just over a decade—well, it was of no use to Chris, but it had been something.

(Ne, Chris? Will anything ever be enough?)

She… nods, says yes.

Kirika… hugs her. Shirabe smiles at her over Kirika's shoulder.


a/n:

uh... Finé/Nastassja? Also, I didn't expect this chapter's length (I'm rusty); parts felt unwieldy, so please let me know what you thought!

Someone reminded me I have a writing tumblr (teddy-tries-writing DOT tumblr DOT com). I've posted a short story I wrote for my intro to fiction class, if anyone's interested.

One more thing: I'm thinking of a name change. I've been Dessert_Maniac for four years now. Maybe it's time to move on?