Prompt: "I think someone had a little accident with the finger paints." (Zero and Marina and a toddler from hell creating havoc on the Karyuu)

I didn't really want to make an OC child, so I sort of stole one from elsewhere. A+ for you if you recognize where.


Marina was yelling for me at the other end of the hall, and I had a good guess as to why. It likely had something to do with the rainbow smudges of paint dabbed against the wall in row after row of fingerprints. "It's washable," I called back as Marina began to storm toward me. Down on one knee, I'd taken an interest in the attempt to form Analyzer with pudgy fingers that hadn't quite learned how to move evenly yet.

"I just can't believe you let her have paint unsupervised," Marina scolded. "It's everywhere."

"I don't blame her. The walls all being gray is pretty boring." I stood and turned to find she didn't appreciate the joke, her brows knitted and her finger tapping against her crossed arms. "Alright-alright, I'll take care of it." Her shoulders were tense under my hands.

"I don't believe you. You're too soft when it comes to giving her proper punishment, and you know it."

"Punishment?" I frowned. "But she's three."

She raised a brow. "And she's old enough to know better. She'll need to be put in time out and will help clean the walls until they are spotless."

Marina had a strange habit of treating children just like the men she commanded, and while I didn't exactly approve, there wasn't much I could do about it. Honestly, if it wasn't for her, Sasha probably would have run the ship. The three year-old and Marina had that much in common in a way.

"Well, if you're going to have her serve her time, you'll have to find her first." I eyed the trails of paint. "At least it won't be too difficult."

"One of these days she's going to run into something dangerous," Marina sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "This ship isn't a child safe zone. Isn't there someone on Earth who can keep her?"

I didn't even take a moment to consider my answer. "No. The men always make sure she doesn't get into anything dangerous. She's fine."

For once, Marina caved, though she still shook her head. "I just worry about her, captain."

I was more worried about whatever she was likely making a mess of at that moment. She was a little devil. Placing my arm around Marina's shoulders, I began leading her along the walls covered in handprints not even the size of my palm. "She knows how to strap herself down in the case of a sudden fight, can help out with nearly everything in the kitchen, and can tie her shoes all because you showed her how. I think there's a lot more to her than what you're worrying about."

I didn't need to worry as much, because she was within my grasp. I could protect her here. If she was on Earth, it would have eaten away at my gut until I was a nervous wreck. We weren't supposed to have children onboard, but Sasha wasn't an average child. I wasn't completely sure what she was, but she'd been alone when we found her, and she wasn't anymore.

Her lilac eyes were focused intently on the project in front of her as she sat on her legs in front of a new canvas – the wall beside my room. Her purple dress was possibly ruined, with half the tray of paint wiped on it. I assumed it had been used as a tool to clean off her hand when she wanted a new color. Her hair too, so long it reached the back of her knees when she stood, was covered in coats of the seven colors from the tray that sat beside her. Marina heaved a sigh. "It's your turn to give her a bath."

"It's fine. I can handle it." Sasha didn't bother to look up even as my boots were right next to her. "What are you working on there?"

"Not done," she said with a pout.

"Ah." I was trying not to smile, trying to be stern. "You know that the walls aren't the place you should be painting on. That was why we gave you all that paper. All this paint on the walls will need to be cleaned up."

She didn't like the idea one bit, puffing her cheeks and refusing to talk to me.

"And you'll be the one cleaning it up," Marina said more firmly than I could manage. "You'll also need a bath, and that dress is probably ruined, meaning you can't wear it anymore."

I felt it was best not to mention that not only was the paint washable, but Sasha wasn't a fan of the dress anyway.

"I'm done," she said, standing up and purposefully wiping her hands on the dress. I knelt down for her to see what could possibly be so important. "See," she pointed. "That one is me, and that one's Daddy, and that one's Mommy."

"Oh, I see," I smiled. Though the uneven stick figures didn't exactly resemble people, the color schemes were clearly meant to represent the three of us. I wanted to tell her it was nice, but Marina might have hit me.

Sasha noticed she still had an excess of paint on her hands, frowning as she tried to wipe it off. It apparently wasn't working, since I found her suddenly using my shoulder as a towel instead. "Little one," I frowned. "I think next time you'll just be getting crayons."