A/N: So this idea came to me after writing Chapter 5 of 'The Crowned Heart of the Caribbean Caper', specifically the flashback scene. I initially created Emily for the sole purpose of giving Shadowsan a reason to break into Wolfe's classroom, but something about her just captured my creativity.

If you haven't read 'Crowned Heart', that's okay. Think of this as a standalone piece. :)

Betcha A Dollar

Six hours and twenty-seven minutes of sunlight had passed as quickly as one might expect, the sun setting just shy of 3:30pm and plunging Helsinki back into a familiar darkness. The distant city lights were well beyond view from the second-floor window of the historic manor, located roughly thirty minutes north of Finland's southern capital. To give credit where it was due, VILE could not have selected a region better suited to his skillset; the temperatures were only slightly below the icy winters of his youth, and the dense forests provided ample amounts of shadow for him to pass through. But only so much could be said for location alone, and all of that shadow amounted to nothing within a brightly lit party, where even the likes of himself were destined to stand out.

Shadowsan turned away from the window, catching a glimpse of his appearance as he proceeded towards the staircase. He was dressed in black from head to toe, including a simple Venetian mask covering the upper half of his face, though his attire was well beyond his usual inconspicuous clothing. While a turtleneck and blazer hardly suited such an event, the ensemble would have been significantly more comfortable than the baroque-inspired tailcoat and vest he was currently wearing, trimmed with a silk cravat, silver swirls and onyx buttons. The only upside to this being a 'Kings & Queens' masquerade ball was that sneaking in his katana had been fairly straightforward, requiring little more than him passing the weapon off as a secured prop.

An unmistakeably hearty laughter bellowed around the ballroom, Shadowsan instantly locating the manor's owner as he descended the sculpted-wood staircase. Nikko Koskinen – wealthy businessman and shareholder of Iittala, Finland's famous glassware company – stood to the side of the dance floor, surrounded by his associates. He was known locally as "New Saint Nick" for the millions of Finnish markka he donated to children's charities each year, his grand annual gala being the crown jewel of those efforts, simultaneously kickstarting the holiday season and raising funds to purchase toys for children who would otherwise go without. As far as Shadowsan could tell from the joyous conversations he had managed to overhear, this year's festivities were par for the course – all according to plan, just as VILE demanded.

Various styles of dress graced the venue, ranging from detailed reconstructions of historical outfits to elaborate, fantasy-inspired works of art. The ballroom had been kept cool for the guests as they mingled and danced in their thick, layered costumes, and a handful of ladies had donned their partners' coats, stubbornly refusing to compromise their looks for additional warmth. Though it seemed not everyone was bothered by the chill. Far across the room, a lovely young woman loitered by the buffet table, cherry-picking hors d'oeuvres from a wide selection of meats, cheeses and local produce – that is, she stood holding a plate as she surveyed the spread, shying away from everything available.

Shadowsan spared himself a glance at Koskinen, finding the man still engaged with his peers, then casually walked towards the buffet table. The woman seemed to notice him, returning her unused plate as he approached. She too stepped towards him, smiling coyly as he bowed and offered her his hand.

He cleared his throat to adjust his phonology. "Haluatko tanssia, neiti?"

The woman brushed a blonde curl behind her ear, blushing behind her own mask. "Well ain't you a regular Prince of Darkness?"

She delicately took his hand, allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor. Shadowsan guided her hand to his shoulder, the pair assuming an intimate waltzing position as he spoke softly into her ear. "Anything to report?"

The woman mimicked his hushed tone. "You mean besides being bored out my mind?"

He growled under his breath. "Enamel, we talked about this."

"I don't see why The Wolf couldn't handle it. He's a master at working these kind of events."

"Knowing our former mentor, he is likely taking one of his leaves again."

Enamel scoffed. "Meanwhile we're being sent to take candy from a lit'ral baby…"

Shadowsan tugged her closer, further lowering his voice. "We will not be taking anything if you do not keep your voice down."

"Whatever… This is about me. I fought tooth and nail to prove myself at the Academy, and those guys still see me as some sick little girl. I could do way more if they'd just gimme a chance."

Her frustration was not without merit. In just a few moments, Nikko Koskinen would address the crowd, toasting another year of generous donations and singing the praises of the hospitals and orphanages set to receive those funds. The same speech as every year, barring one further paragraph: after over a decade of failed attempts, he and his wife had finally welcomed a baby girl with the help of IVF treatments. In honour of the joyous occasion, Koskinen would publicly announce the name of his newborn daughter to friends and colleagues alike, before presenting the child with a priceless gift commissioned from Iittala, rumoured to contain real diamonds. The gift would then be set aside for the ceremonial Lighting of the Christmas Tree, creating a five-second period of vulnerability as the manor lights were turned off and the Christmas lights were turned on, with an additional ten-to-thirty seconds before anyone noticed the item was gone. Fittingly frozen landscape aside, the caper was practically an insult, made worse by the knowledge that they were stationed in one of the safest countries in the world.

Shadowsan sighed. She deserved better… worse—more. She could quite literally give anyone a run for their money. Out of forty thieves, she was the only student who came close to being in his league, and the Faculty knew it. Why else would both Instructor Wolfe and Coach Brunt have regularly pit them against one another, if not as recognition that they were the other's only viable sparring partner? Would Countess Cleo have praised her charming, innocent demeanour in their etiquette classes without events such as these in mind, events that required operatives to hide in plain sight? He had been present when she selected her codename – Enamel, her overlooked strength the protective coating that shielded the fragile crown beneath – adamant that it might finally earn their respect, and he knew how it pained her to know that she still had so much left to prove.

He adjusted their position to address her directly. "Your health makes you a liability. It would serve you well to remember that."

"Uffda… That's harsh, even from you."

"I am merely suggesting that you play the long game," he assured her. "If you truly wish to succeed within VILE, your best chance is to keep your head down. Allow the medical field time to find a more effective solution to your allergies."

"I 'spose you're right…" She smiled up at him. "At least I get to be here with my oldest friend."

"We are operatives, Enamel. That does not make us friends."

"You keep telling ya'self that. And since we're talking li'bilities, your acting needs work."

Shadowsan raised an eyebrow.

"You're too stiff. Loosen up, live a little!"

"Ninja do not jeopardise their cover with unnecessary theatrics."

Enamel smirked, raising an arm above her head. She went limp in his arms, Shadowsan instinctively lunging forward to catch her as she fell backwards. It was only when she burst into a fit of giggles that he took note of their position – a classic ballroom dip – and he growled as he pulled her upright.

"It wouldn't kill you to embrace your wicked side."

Shadowsan scoffed, finally cracking a smile. "Says the one of us who begged for the handover to transpire in Lapland, of all places."

"I'm Minnesotan." She gave his shoulder a light swat. "You shoulda seen it coming."

He rolled his eyes at her, and in doing so noticed a woman entering the ballroom. Somewhere in her late-thirties, she wore a loose-fitting gold dress that flattered the slight swell of her stomach, her arms wrapped protectively around a swaddled infant. Koskinen's wife had been absent thus far, rumour indicating that she had not entirely settled into motherhood. From the sounds of it, she may have been experiencing postpartum depression – a term he had recently seen mentioned in the medical journals Enamel took an interest in – so her presence showed an admirable amount of fortitude.

Koskinen also noticed her, promptly excusing himself and hastening to join her. They conversed for a spell, before he signalled for the band to wrap up their set.

"It's go-time."

Shadowsan nodded, kissing the back of Enamel's hand as they bowed to each other, the music tapering out around them as they parted ways. Those paying attention clapped politely as Koskinen and his wife took to the stage, the man tapping his wedding ring against a crystal champagne flute and standing behind a microphone. Slowly but surely, the chinking drew the crowd from their own activities, all oblivious to the operatives lurking in their midst as they turned to their host.

"Kauden terveisiä! Good evening, honoured guests!"

Shadowsan slipped into the shadows. No one so much as blinked in his direction as he crept towards the stage, taking his position not far from the steps on the right side of the constructed platform. He spotted Enamel across the ballroom, gingerly making her way towards him in a long-winded fashion – a standard procedure to rebuff suspicions of them attending together. Servers also weaved through the crowd, offering guests champagne as Koskinen recited his usual formalities, but Shadowsan kept his eye trained on a well-dressed man in the corner, holding a large box in his hands.

"—but before I do, I would first like to thank the mighty Tulikettu for this wonderful display it has blessed us with tonight."

The curtains had been drawn at every window, allowing the crowd to see the Northern Lights stretching across the sky. Koskinen waited for a few moments as his guests marvelled at the lightshow, then promptly went back to his speech.

"My friends from afar may know it as the firefox, but many northern and eastern Finns know the folklore of the Tulikettu – how as it runs along the fells, the fox's flaming tail whips crystals of ice into the darkness, setting the skies ablaze. According to legend, any man to catch the creature would be rich for the rest of his life. I cannot speak for the hunters of Old, but my wife and I have also spent years seeking an elusive spirit. And now that she has finally graced us with her presence…" the man paused, turning to look at his daughter, "she has indeed brought great wealth to our lives."

A resounding 'aww' followed the man's sentiment.

Koskinen raised his flute to the crowd, his eyes creasing around the corners. "To my darling kit. To Aurora."

"To Aurora!"

The crowd chorused the toast, soon morphing into general sounds of merriment. On cue, the well-dressed man brought the box on stage, taking Koskinen's flute to allow the host to slip on a pair of white gloves. His wife watched curiously as he opened the box and lifted something from the sponge-like foam within, smiling as he held it up to the light. The blown glass structure resembled an arctic fox, translucent wisps of colour passing through the material. True to the rumours, its surface – predominantly the tail – was embedded with dozens of tiny diamonds, reflecting the overhead lights in rainbows across the stage. Little Aurora also seemed to light up, her tiny hands reaching for the dancing streams as her parents gushed over her.

For one brief moment, Shadowsan's gaze fell, though he immediately recomposed himself when Enamel appeared beside him. She nodded in encouragement, already gathering the hidden folds in her dress.

Koskinen returned to the microphone. "And now, without further ado…"

Shadowsan took a cautious step towards the stage, fingers flexed.

"May this year's Christmas Season begin in three, two—"

"Get your hands off me!"

The crowd parted almost perfectly down the middle – like a scene from a movie – revealing a frustrated woman stood at the centre of the ballroom. Shadowsan growled to himself; the man she was speaking to was the same one he had seen stumbling around since the early hours of the evening, readily taking the invitation for social drinking to its extremes.

Koskinen seemed equally displeased, getting down from the stage to approach the pair. "Neiti, do you know this man?"

"No, and he refuses to leave me alone."

Koskinen nodded, turning to the man in question. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Mind your business, Old Man," he slurred. "Tyttö doesn't know what she wants…"

Shadowsan's hand tightened around the hilt of his katana. The lout had nerve to put words in the woman's mouth, especially in an effort to undermine her discomfort. Still, he had to remain focused. His intervention would only serve to get him thrown out once they realised that he was carrying a genuine weapon.

Enamel tapped his shoulder, standing on her toes to reach his ear. "Shadowsan, the sculpture…"

He looked towards the stage; sure enough, the well-dressed man from earlier was talking to Koskinen's wife, who soon nodded in approval as he placed the sculpture back in its box and carried it away.

"I will not ask you again. Please leave my house."

"Make me!"

The drunken man took a purposeful swing… and missed entirely, instead tripping over the host's outstretched foot, passing out somewhere on the way down. Koskinen shook his head, kneeling beside the man as he called out to one of his attendants. "Juhani, kindly call the police."

Shadowsan reached for Enamel's hand. "We cannot risk being questioned by the authorities."

She took his arm in an elegant fashion, the pair slipping through the crowd as they exited the ballroom. Turning on their heels, they both ran for their planned escape route.

"What about the sculpture?"

"The mission is over, Enamel."

"It has to be in the baby's room, right? You keep a lookout, and I'll—"

"Emily, stop." Shadowsan grabbed her shoulders. "It is not worth it."

She shoved him back. "Of course, you can say that. No one's ever doubted your skill."

"This is not the place to discuss this. We need to get out of here before—"

"Anteeksi, is something wrong?"

A server stood nearby, empty tray at his side.

"Go!" Shadowsan readied himself, Enamel sprinting forward. The server shielded himself with his tray as she shoved past. He turned, then collapsed. Shadowsan released the man's neck, laying him down before following Enamel.

They were meant to exit through the back patio, but the kitchen door swung on its hinges. He shrugged it off, pushing through the doors. Cooks stood wide-eyed at their stations, sautéing fish and simmering stews forgotten as he shot through. He quickly caught up to Enamel, the pair racing towards a pathway leading down the steep hillside.

"Watch the ice!"

His warning came too late, Enamel colliding into his back. They veered right, straight off the path. Twigs snapped as they tumbled between the trees, their masks being ripped away in the fall. Shadowsan clutched his katana, shielding it more than himself as their momentum lessened, finally spitting them into the forests below.

Shadowsan groaned, sitting himself up in the snow. The trees blurred and span around him, slowly coming back into focus. "Enamel, are you alright?"

There was no response.

"Enamel?" He looked around, and then he saw her. "Emily!"

She lay nearby, frantically tugging at her dress. Violent coughs rattled her body, a frightened look in her eyes. Shellfish—that's what they were cooking!

"Hold on!" Shadowsan rushed over, drawing his katana. She managed to roll onto her stomach, allowing him to slice through the tight ribbons lacing her corset. He tore the dress away, revealing her stealth suit underneath. She had the good sense to add cut-outs on the outer thighs, leaving the administration point clearly visible for less knowledgeable operatives. He snatched an EpiPen from one of the shin pockets, quickly injecting the shot of epinephrine.

"Su—"

He gently 'shh'ed her, lying her on her back. "Just breathe."

She followed his instruction, taking deep, gulping breaths to fill her starved lungs. They caught it quickly – thank goodness! – while the swelling was minimal, and within seconds, her body relaxed, her breathing becoming less laboured.

Shadowsan got to his feet, sheathing his katana and stepping far enough aside to be out of her earshot. He then reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, black flip phone. The device was Doctor Bellum's newest invention, an "improved" model of current cell phone designs with a newly added videocall feature. It survived the fall and seemed to find reception, but it rang for what felt like an eternity.

"Come on… pick up!"

At last, the call connected, a stretched image of the Faculty appearing on the small screen.

"Eureka!" Shadowsan struggled to make out the scientist as she turned to the others. "And you told me I was wasting resources… Shadowsan, do you have a visual?"

"The caper is off. Enamel—"

Maelstrom interrupted. "Don't tell me the girl has compromised our operations again."

"Your 'operations' are the least of my concerns. Enamel was exposed to shellfish. We need to be rescued now."

The professor was clearly unmoved, but Coach Brunt gave an urgent nod, leaning across the table to address her colleague. "Doc, where are the Cleaners?"

Bellum tapped away at yet another device. "Tallinn, Estonia, overseeing the caper at Kadriorg Palace. If they leave now, they can be in Helsinki within the hour."

"Enamel does not have an hour!" Shadowsan snapped. "It is below freezing, and she needs urgent medical attention."

Maelstrom sneered, his mutterings to the Faculty barely audible to the ninja. "All in favour of letting nature take its course?"

I could kill him. Never in his life had Shadowsan felt true bloodlust; even as an assassin, he had never harmed anyone on his own accord. In that moment, however, he almost felt capable of it, the smugness on the man's face triggering something in the deepest, darkest pit of his soul. Brunt raised from her seat, and he silently thanked her intervention.

"Do I need to remind you VILE is a crime family? Shadowsan, what's your position?"

"I am not sure…" He tried to recall their movements, mapping the uniform terrain in his mind. "We ran out through the kitchen exit. There was a path, but we fell down the hill."

Brunt clicked her tongue, studying something offscreen. "There's a road just south-east of y'all. We'll have local EMS find you there and the Cleaners can intercept once the coast is clear."

"Coach Brunt, are you forgetting that VILE has strict policies on capture?"

At this, Countess Cleo finally chimed in. "Honestly, Gunnar, there's capture and there's cardiac arrest. I vote in Coach's favour, and that includes on Dexter's behalf."

Despite the poor video quality, Shadowsan noticed Maelstrom's expression turn sour, the man seemingly grumbling into his hands at that final remark. Was it possible he knew about—

"Shadowsan, head south-east until you reach the main road," Brunt instructed. "I'll send emergency services your way."

He ended the call without a second thought, switching out the phone for his VILE-issued compass.

"Those guys planning my funeral yet?"

Enamel lay still on the snowy bank, watching him from the corner of her glazed, amber eyes. The swelling had decreased, but she still looked pale and shaky. The material VILE used for their stealth suits was decently insulated, but it would not keep her warm for long. For now, it was relief enough to see her alert, though he hoped against hope that she had not overheard the Faculty's (i.e. Maelstrom's) reaction to her condition.

Shadowsan walked back to her, sinking into the snow with every step. "Brunt is sending for an ambulance. We need to head for the main road."

She rolled her eyes. "Lotta help that is when I need to lie flat…"

"I can handle it." He removed his coat, laying it on the ground to wrap around her shoulders. "I have thrown ruffians triple your size over my shoulder."

"Okay, Hercules, I gotcha…" she joked, groaning as he moved her. "We got about twenty minutes before it wears off."

"Then we had best start moving." He positioned the compass in his hand, gripping it there as he picked her up bridal-style. He turned on the spot until the needle pointed south-east, then set off into the darkness.

"Hey, remember when I was complaining about Finland being uneventful?" Enamel sniggered. "That was fun…"

"How are you so calm?"

"I grew up in hospitals, remember? This is just another tiistai for me."

Shadowsan growled.

"Oh, c'mon." She swatted his chest, though the action felt like little more than a half-hearted tap. "That was funny."

"This is no laughing matter."

"Fine. But just so you know, it's when I stop cracking wise that you need to worry."

"Noted."

Under different circumstances, he might have found the forest beautiful. Trees towered overhead – he did not care to identify them, but he would hazard a guess they were either pine or birch – their limbs laden with thick snow and blocking most of the sky. The stars were out in full force, indistinguishable from the falling snowflakes that fluttered in the breeze. The occasional woodland creature scampered past in the distance, as a fresh earthy scent wafted in the air.

For the most part, Shadowsan kept his eyes fixed on the compass. The needle shuddered over the south-east mark, flinching to either side as he navigated the landscape. The ground crunched beneath his feet, the accumulated snowfall reaching past his ankles as he walked. Countless, continual steps that seemed to move him no further ahead. He held Enamel closer; she would make it. She had to.

"You know, you're pretty calm too…"

He was unsure what to make of her statement. "We are in a dangerous situation. Critical thinking is imperative."

Enamel shook her head. "I'm not buyin' it… No one's this comfortable around death without prior experience."

Shadowsan rounded a few trees, glancing down at the compass.

"You've gotta know there were rumours…"

"And you have to know that we are not meant to disclose personal information."

"We're on our own out here, and I need to stay conscious," she reasoned. "I may enjoy my gossip, but I'm no tattletale. So… how did you get VILE's attention?"

Shadowsan sighed in defeat. "I left home when I was sixteen, after joining the Yakuza."

"Japanese gangster, eh? So were you committing the crimes or just witnessing 'em?"

Indeed, there had been questions during his time at the Academy, most of which he had simply ignored and most of which came from Lady Dokuso. They were on different class rotations – just as they had once run with separate branches of the Yakuza – but she took personal offense at his skill, no doubt fuelled by being one of the failed students from the previous year. He had worked hard to keep his secrets and could not afford to give VILE cause to doubt his allegiance. Then again, this was Enamel. He had no reason to doubt her…

"In the beginning, I only planned to be a thief. But I had specific talents, ones that mimicked those of ninja… so they pushed for me to steal more than mere commodities for them."

Enamel nodded, a look of sympathy crossing her face. "And you knew what they'd do if you said 'no'."

"They forced me so far into the darkness that I became a shadow of my former self…"

"So when you chose 'Shadowsan' as your codename…"

"It was my penance for the road I once chose."

Enamel was quiet for a moment. "And…"

"And?"

"None of this tells me how you became a thief."

His body went stiff, his heartrate increasing. "I am not sure I know what it is you are asking…"

She clearly was not having it. "For a guy who claims to be all darkness and shadows, you got a real 'fallen samurai' vibe goin' on. I'm no expert in ancient Japan, but I'm pretty sure ninjas don't have to restrain themselves from defending a woman's honour."

Crud. In the moment, he hoped that she had not noticed. He had no excuse, no false testimony to bear. His honour may be tarnished, but his moral compass was clear.

Enamel persisted, "I used to pawn items from my foster homes when they threw me back. Whatever you did, it can't be worse than that."

"I can assure you that it is."

"Then prove it. Tell me."

There will be no deterring her. Shadowsan bowed his head in shame. "I was raised in Matsumoto Castle—I do not remember my parents, but I know my father upheld the family tradition of overseeing the castle museum."

"When you say you don't remember them…"

"Car accident. I was… I was young at the time."

"Siblings?"

His mouth went dry. "One. My older brother, Hideo."

"I'm guessing he raised you?"

"He tried to. He became a scholar, and I just grew angry at the world. I stormed out one night and wound up in the back alleys. I boasted to the Yakuza of stealing something valuable, and they offered me a place in their ranks. If I could prove my stories."

"Let me guess… your katana?"

"It was the museum's most precious artifact. The daisho meant everything to my brother."

She closed her eyes for a spell, bobbing her head in thought. "That's why you hold back… You weren't stealing for fun. You were seeking attention."

"By becoming a thief?"

"Why do you think I started stealing from my foster families? They did nothing to help me, so I helped myself at their expense."

To her credit, the sentiment did sound familiar. "I realised too late the mistake I was making. I looked into that blade, and… I saw the great dishonour I was about to commit."

Enamel opened her eyes, looking up at him quizzically. "Wait a minute… You picked the sword up, realised your mistake, then… stole it anyway? You coulda just put it back. No one had to know."

"When I turned around, Hideo was there, holding the short sword. He told me that…" his voice wavered. "That I would have to take it from him."

"'From him'…"

He chose not to respond, and Enamel's eyebrows knitted together.

"He drew a sword on you!? You, his own brother?"

"In self-defence."

"Defence against what!?" she fumed. "You were sixteen when this happened. By law, that makes you a child. You're still impress'nable at that age, and all kids make mistakes. Honestly, your brother's more in the wrong than you were."

"What?" Shadowsan looked her straight in the eye, searching for any hint of satire. The accusation was beyond foolish, ludicrous even. What could Hideo possibly have to seek forgiveness for?

"He put his academia before his role as your guardian. Nurtured kids don't become crim'nals."

"We are not speaking of a few picked pockets." He checked the compass again. "I dishonoured my family name."

"You were a child! You didn't need honour, you needed love, and you acted out 'cause you weren't getting it. Belief me, I know what that feels like."

"What I 'needed' was to control my arrogance. Hideo was a better man than I cared to admit. He was disciplined, he respected our culture, he worked gruelling hours to support us without a single complaint—"

Enamel shook her head. "Don't you hear ya'self? You talk about him like he was sculpted from marble. Of course you couldn't live up to that! No one could!"

"My brother is an honourable man—"

"That doesn't make him faultless. Either he didn't notice what was going on with you or he chose to ignore it, then when he felt you'd gone too far—"

"I did go too far! What I did was unforgivable!"

"No, it's not. Suhara…" She reached up to turn his face towards her, straining herself in doing so. "You may 'ave stolen that sword, but Hideo's the one who messed up. He shoulda tried to make amends, not just assumed guilt. A real brother wouldn't antagonise you like that."

Shadowsan allowed himself a moment to dwell on her words. He remembered that night as clearly as if it were yesterday: his brother shaking in horror, the drawn sword in his hands, and he himself reaching for his own in knee-jerk fear. How differently may things have gone had Hideo not been there, or at least not startled him? Though rare and inconsequential, there had been times in his youth where they were almost cordial. Could he have sought forgiveness? Earned redemption? No, he decided. Emily meant well, but she was naïve to the importance of honour in his country. The importance of discipline. There should not have been a need to correct himself. He deserved the judgement, and its punishment.

"I made my own bed. That cannot be changed."

She clearly was not satisfied with his answer, but fortunately chose not to press the matter. A minute of silence passed between them, tempers cooling in the frigid air, before she posed a new subject: "D'you ever think about it? A life without VILE?"

His frown deepened. "I do not entertain the idea."

"I've always wanted to see Japan in the springtime, all the flowers…" she mused. "Never had the guts to do it though. Even without my food lim'tations, I'd be too scared of getting stung."

"Maybe I could take you someday. Show you around, protect you from the bees…"

"Yah! Gawsh, I'd pay buckets to see you pull a Mr Miyagi!"

Shadowsan groaned. While laying low after their first caper together, she had badgered him into watching 'The Karate Kid' with her, proclaiming it to be her favourite film. To this day, he rued giving in; she knew as much, and she used that knowledge whenever possible.

"That was clearly achieved through special effects. Catching flies with chopsticks is both impossible and entirely impractical."

"For you, maybe."

Shadowsan ignored her giggles, until they were replaced by heavy, wheezing coughs. Her lips and throat began to swell, her pale skin now appearing darker in the dim light – whether from the allergy or the cold, he could not be sure. He set her down and retrieved another EpiPen, ripping the cap off with his teeth. She was shaking now – and he struggled to administer the second dose – further weakened by her low body temperature. Once again, the swelling went down some, but her condition did not improve. Her chest heaved, almost whistling as she gasped for air. She reached for him.

"I'm here, Emily… You must keep fighting."

A low rumble rushed somewhere nearby; a muffled, airy sound that instantly caught his attention. He hastily bundled her back into his arms and ran. Twigs snapping. Snow caving in beneath him. His compass all but forgotten, until finally the forest gave way to a long, straight road. The vehicle's sirens were off, but it was clearly a police car, disappearing in the direction of Koskinen's manor. An ambulance would not be far behind…

"I can't… f-feel anything…"

"Do not talk like that." Shadowsan dropped to the ground, laying her out across the asphalt. It was a dire risk to take – just one less-than-vigilant driver would eradicate them in a heartbeat – but they could not afford to be missed. For a main road, the stretch was deserted, lined on either side with trees that stood like mountains. Without the forest to shield them, the winds blustered down the channel like air through a pipeline. Perhaps the only upside came from directly above – the Northern Lights, vibrant streaks of colour weaving through a plethora of stars. "You need to stay awake, remember?"

Emily only whimpered as he rested her head in his lap, cuddling closer to him as he vigorously rubbed her arms. He should have thought to retrieve her dress; the garment had been mostly tulle and other flimsy fabrics, but it may have sufficed as a makeshift blanket. He pulled his coat more tightly around her, trying his best to appear optimistic.

"You have never told me the reason for your fascination with Japan…"

"So we're tradin' sob stories, eh?"

"Tell me."

Emily attempted a laugh, the sound falling short. "My childhood hospital stay… There was— There was more to it."

"How so?"

"When I got sick—" She flinched. "Guess my folks just d-didn't wanna deal. They packed a bag, dumped me outside the children's hospital… then they just d-drove away, left me there… Cops tried to find 'em, but they skipped town, never came back."

He held his tongue. He had made grave mistakes before, and would likely make more under VILE, but could he ever bring himself to harm a child? That took a particular brand of evil. Perhaps there were extenuating circumstances, but that did not excuse her parents' ruthlessness.

"There was this— one Japanese-American nurse, Himari… She'd a-always bring me sweets her family sent over and… and make origami bouquets f-for my room. She even read me this book… about a sick girl who made pa-paper cranes so she could wish to get b-better."

"Sadako Sasaki," Shadowsan stated. "Hideo told me that story when I was a boy. Orizuru were the first thing I learned to make…"

Emily smiled a little and continued. "She wanted to ad-dopt me, but something went wrong— with the paperwork, and… I was put in the s-s-system instead. Being bounced between foster homes, I'd n-never felt more alone. So I s-started folding, and when I reached my thousan'th crane, I— I wished for one real friend. Just one person… to t-truly believe in me."

A pang of guilt struck his heart. All the times she made jokes about them being friends, all the times he rebuffed her… He wanted to go back and change his response, make use of every empty space where he simply dismissed her. "Em—"

"I'm s-still wish-shing…"

She shuddered violently in his arms. Shadowsan looked around. No lights. No sirens. No sign of help. Emily was barely conscious, and even he was starting to feel the chill; he had managed well enough whilst he was moving, but now suffered without the added layer of his tailcoat. She needed it more, but who knew how much longer they could last in these conditions? He needed a talking point, quickly. Something potent enough to rouse her interest, to keep her awake. Something like… oh. He shook his head. Do it for Emily…

"You were right before."

Emily looked up at him.

"CleoWolf— Dextess— Whatever you were calling them…"

"You saw 'em together?" She brightened ever so slightly.

"Yes."

"Oh my— how? When!?"

Shadowsan bit the inside of his lip. There was not much to tell; he had only seen them once in what could be considered a rather… compromising situation. He would likely take the explicit details to his grave, but what he had witnessed felt more transactional than loving. Still, this revelation had seemed to garner one last ember of strength, and he was not about to squander that.

Hopefully my acting skills are not as lacking as she believes, Shadowsan thought before pressing on. "The night you left your EpiPen in Wolfe's classroom… I was about to sneak back out when they came in. Apparently, there are… um, strict rules against operatives forming romantic relationships, so they are only able to meet after curfew. They were… so enthralled with each other that they never even noticed me."

"I-I knew it!" Emily trembled, a small smile playing at her lips. "They m-must'a had a gr-great love story."

"Perhaps…" Highly doubtful.

"You're g-gonna have one too, y'know. Someday…"

An involuntary laugh escaped him. Was the cold making her delusional? Or was that a result of the epinephrine? Surely it had to be one of the two. Did she honestly expect him to believe that a woman would entrust her heart to someone like him?

"I saw you at the ball. H-how you looked at Aurora… After everything you've gone through— y-you deserve to be part… part of a fam'ly."

He swallowed the lump in his throat. In truth, if only for one moment, he had pondered the notion of having a family to call his own. A wife perhaps, maybe even some children. Briefly, of course, because rationally he knew it was too late for a thief and assassin to form such bonds. A piece of him died the night he took out his first hit – a good piece, the one final piece that still held a twinge of hope for redemption. He felt the pain of its loss as strongly as if it had been physically ripped from his chest, but in that moment, he did not grieve. Not for himself, not for the man he killed, not even for the honour of his sullied blade. He willed those feelings elsewhere, content simply to survive. But alas, the thought slipped in, promptly followed by the bitter sting of heartbreak.

"I appreciate what— what you are trying to do, but… It is too late for me."

"Don't talk like that. B-beneath all that— s-self-imposed darkness, your heart is still pure. You're just… lost, is all… You'll find y-your own firefox. You jus' gotta wait a bit longer. She'll bring you h-home again, I swear… I-I know you don't believe it, but— I believe it… e-enough for both of us. Okay? S-she's out there, and she's… spirited and-and passionate and… She'll drive you crazy, but she'll give you rene-newed purpose. You're gonna love her… so much, Su. She's g-gonna be… the light of— of your life."

He could no longer tell which of them was shivering more, icy moisture burning against his face.

"H-hey…" Emily held up a hand, a single paper bill fluttering between her middle and index fingers. "Betcha a dollar."

Shadowsan took it, his hand shaking. Heaven only knew where she got it from, likewise where she had been carrying it. Trying to locate anything in the dozens of pockets she had sewn into her stealth suit was a test of skill few had the patience for, but to her credit, the dollar had survived their earlier fall. It creased between his quivering fingers, the wind determined to tear its edges, so he tucked it into his own pocket.

The distant trill of sirens caught his attention, his whole body shaking with overwhelming relief. Emily had stilled in his arms, blinking up at the sky with ice-covered lashes.

"Suhara…"

"Y-yes, Emily?"

"…Happy birthday."

His breath caught in his throat. "It's o-only Decemb-ber 1st."

"I know, but…" she spoke with shallow respirations, "just in case…"

In case she dies. Her meaning was clear: she did not believe she would live those last four days before his twenty-first. What he would do for a thousand paper cranes, for the power to wish her well… His vision blurred as snowflakes formed in his eyes, and he held her tight against his trembling form. "Y-you're g-going to m-m-ake it, Emily. Please… j-just hold on…"

She said nothing. He rubbed at her arms, but his body felt sluggish, the cold lulling him someplace else. The Northern Lights seemed dimmer now, red and blue reflecting off the snow-covered trees. Two bright lights emerged from the distance, rapidly morphing into one, until the world went white.

Heat. From the moment he began to regain consciousness, he was aware of an overbearing warmth weighing him down. It was almost painful, searing through the chill that had settled deep in his core. He tried to push against it, only for a tender force to ease him back down.

"Good to see you awake."

Shadowsan opened his eyes. A heavy-set woman stood over him, holding a blood pressure monitor in one hand and inflating it with the other.

"Try to save your strength, okay?"

"Where—"

"You're in an ambulance. Can you tell me your name?"

He thought the question over. Voicing his name was a self-evident breach of protocol, but using his codename would only serve to rouse suspicion. She would likely overestimate his condition if he opted not to respond, but he was too tired to construct a convincing lie. His arm throbbed as she removed the inflatable cuff and a thought crossed his mind, one born of genuine concern. "Where is Emily?"

The paramedic took a breath, removing heating packs from his armpits and abdomen. "I'm sorry, dear. Your friend was gone by the time we found you."

He bolted upright. Through the dizziness, his gaze landed on a dainty shape across from him, covered in full by a cold, white sheet. Emily. Had it just been the cold, he could have deceived himself into believing she slipped away with a wistful smile, envisioning herself to be in some powdered-sugar wonderland where flowers blossomed and fairies danced on snowflakes. But the shellfish…

"Was she in pain?"

The woman refused to meet his eye, carefully inserting a tympanic thermometer into his ear. She busied herself with the device, holding it steady until it beeped, the hollow sound lingering as she noted the result and changed the plastic lens filter. "We saw the needle marks on her leg. You gave her a fighting chance, remember that."

The ambulance came to a curt stop. The paramedic hurried up to the cab, urgently speaking in Finnish to a male driver. Though his view was greatly obstructed, Shadowsan could just make out the shape of a helicopter in the road, and two silhouettes approaching as the driver rolled down his window to speak.

"Mikä on ongelma?"

"Ice on the road. We were sent to transfer the patients directly to hospital."

The woman spoke this time. "Of course. Come round the back."

Shadowsan bowed his head, knowing all too well who the Russian men were sent by. Sure enough, when she returned to open the back doors of the ambulance, Vlad and Boris were waiting, stood outside in hospital attire and seemingly unphased by the arctic conditions. The poor woman was none the wiser, focused solely on her duty of care.

"Female patient was pronounced dead at the scene. Male is conscious and being treated for a mild case of hypothermia. We've done most of the work, but make sure he stays warm—"

He chose not to listen any further, instead watching as Boris entered the ambulance. Without a word – and far more carelessly than he would have liked – the man collected Emily's body, her arm slipping out from under the sheet as he carried her away. That same arm had been proudly held above their heads just an hour ago, the sound of her laughter briefly shaking his awareness of their surroundings. For one fleeting moment, he was Suhara again, the sound momentarily loosening the grip of the shadows that haunted him. She had always had that effect on him, possessing an innocent charm that reawakened the dormant embers of his honour. For all his attempts to deny it, she had been the closest he had to a real friend. And now, just as quickly as she had burned across his sky, her light was gone, leaving him without a picture to remember her by.

"Your turn, dear."

The paramedic held out a hand. Shadowsan nodded absently, pushing himself off the stretcher. The ground swayed beneath him as he retrieved his coat and katana, so he allowed her to help him out of the ambulance. "Kiitos."

She transferred his weight to Vlad, the man guiding him towards the helicopter. Boris was already waiting, stood beside the open door with a dark green thermos in his hand. No sooner had he passed the item, he moved to take the pilot's seat, leaving Shadowsan to sit down as Vlad placed a blanket over his shoulders. The men were truly emotionless, not that he particularly felt like discussing emotions in that moment.

Across from him, Vlad waited as a computer monitor tried to connect back to the Faculty, Maelstrom taking the call.

"Extraction complete. Enamel did not make it."

"Thank you, Cleaners," Maelstrom replied, sporting his usual callous grin. "Your next item of business is to return to VILE Island for standard debriefing."

Vlad simply nodded, joining Boris in the cockpit as the helicopter took off. Maelstrom ended the call without a word, only for it to be immediately reinstated. Coach Brunt – facing Maelstrom and clearly annoyed – appeared onscreen, her expression softening as she looked back towards him. "How you holdin' up, sugar?"

He had heard this 'Mama Bear' routine was common with the younger recruits. He did not care for it personally, but at least it carried enough courtesy for her to ask.

"Tell me the truth. What will happen to Enamel?"

Brunt gave a brief but respectful nod. "Protocol dictates she'll be cremated. An operative can volunteer to scatter the ashes, otherwise they'll be disposed of all quiet-like."

"I wish to volunteer."

"Alrighty then. We'll see you when you get back."

With one last, sympathetic look from Brunt, the screen once again went black, leaving him alone at the back of the helicopter. The numbness had not left him, his mind stalling as it tried to process the night's events; the Faculty would expect a full report, the failed caper now feeling like a distant memory. And Emily… Would they give him time? Where would he even take her? Japan was the only location she ever spoke favourably of, but he could not see VILE remaining patient until the spring. The fuyuzakura trees in Gunma and Saitama would be in sparse bloom by now, nestled between the fiery reds and oranges of late autumn. Then again, being so close to Tokyo, the regions were destined to be tourist traps, tightly packed with prying eyes. Perhaps the Kushiro Marsh in Hokkaido would be better. Let her settle into the wetlands where thousands of red-crowned cranes would flock each winter. She would like that… right?

He stared down at the thermos in his hands, the faint scent of green tea doing nothing to ground him. It pained him to think how little he knew her; tonight had not been their only caper, and yet only now did he understand one fraction of her life. Worse yet, what exactly did he know about her? That she was robbed of a real childhood? That she had been abandoned and belittled by nearly all who knew her? That despite it all, she could fool herself into seeing some good in him, someone still worthy of his brother's forgiveness. In another life – and were they closer brothers – he might have gone back home, fallen to his knees and wept. For Hideo, for Emily, for the lives they never had… And for those sunlit days that were never meant to last.

For the better part of six and a half hours, Shadowsan sat in silence, paying no mind to the warm tears streaming down his windburned cheeks.

"She is nearly gone! Prepare air support!"

Shadowsan drew his katana, holding his ground as the Cleaners raced towards the helicopter pad. They would blame Black Sheep for the damage – her mischievous ways a blessing in that moment – never questioning the precise, symmetrical cuts that had severed the engine wires. His frustration regarding her last escape attempt had been born more from the knowledge that the men had been present, too cold and calculating to care if they harmed her. Tonight she would make it, and hopefully he as well…

He posed himself – ever-committed to the role he had adopted in recent years – and started running, descending the stairs in leaping strides. Whatever the girl had done with Booker, the others would find her soon enough, assuming they had not done so already. Maelstrom would waste no time in notifying the captain, a man both knew had not become less violent with age. Black Sheep could certainly pass for an artful dodger, but her combat skills were limited, and he knew all too well that VILE were not above hanging their own out to dry.

He breached the shoreline; the captain lay unconscious across the pier, a loaded harpoon gun at his side and Black Sheep stood at the helm of the boat. Who knew how she overpowered the man, but his pride in her was immeasurable. Pride could wait. For now, just run…

She had clearly seen him, now frantically searching the control panel. He found solace in knowing that she had been given no instruction on driving any form of vehicle, hoping it would buy him a few invaluable minutes. But she was always a fast learner. She jumped back onto the pier, likely retrieving the keys from the captain's pocket.

I am running out of time. He had felt her weighted obedience, the lack of passion in her classes; he knew she was biding her time and had prepared himself accordingly. Tonight was the last chance for them both, but he would not jeopardise her escape to secure his own. He willed as much venom into his voice as he could muster, fuelled by thoughts of everything he wanted her safe from. A life of crime, the Faculty, VILE…

"BLACK SHEEP!"

The girl glanced over her shoulder. He ran down the final set of stairs, pushing himself until his muscles burned. He was close, painfully close. Mere boat lengths away as she jumped back onboard. Close enough to feel the reverberations from the vessel as its engine roared to life. Close enough to see the resolved look on Black Sheep's face as she backed the boat away…

I cannot reach her now. The sinking feeling settled in his stomach, and he braced himself to stop at the very end of the pier. He may still have been able to jump the final distance if he maintained his momentum, but had he missed – fallen into the deep waters below – he knew her empathetic heart would strain if he were hurt. If she were not compelled to save him outright, she would certainly consider it, wasting precious time she did not have. So instead, he simply glared, grappling for some emotion to hide his relief.

"I pass, you fail."

She was too far gone for him to hear, but he read the words on her lips. He had hoped to give her the coat exam again once they made it out, give her the do-over she so desperately craved. His previous stunt – however pure his intensions – had been a difficult pain to inflict upon her. Whatever else she inherited from her father, she possessed The Wolf's skill. She was the finest pickpocket he ever trained, and to make her believe otherwise was a wound that could fester for years if left unchecked. He sheathed his katana; it was not much, but it would let her know that she was in the clear. It would give her the validation of knowing she had bested him.

The motor revved as Black Sheep turned the boat around. Some of the spray hit him in the process – it felt deserved, though probably not intentional – but he stood perfectly still as she sped away. She straightened her course for the open sea, quickly becoming a mere speck of light amidst the whitecaps. Only then did his façade crack, the emotions rushing to the forefront.

Shadowsan dropped to his knees. He was by no means an unfit man, nor an emotional one, though the sprint had exhausted him in more ways than one. He may have sensed her impending escape, but he never suspected she would steal the coming year's hard drive. VILE would acquire a replacement soon enough, no damage done, and she would begin a new life somewhere. He would be freed of the great burden he carried, yet somehow, he still felt a crushing weight in his chest; he would remain in the shadows, and he would never see her again… Might another chance to join her present itself? He supposed it would have to if Black Sheep sought to find her mother or any other living relatives, though he could not fathom how such a chance would transpire. What became of him was of little concern anyway. She will be safe – that is what matters most.

Memories washed over him. From what little he had known of infant development, he calculated that she was somewhere around nine to ten months old when he brought her to the island. It took time for VILE to enlist the many caretakers who aided in raising her, so the task of watching her that first year was split between Coach Brunt and himself. Brunt insisted upon taking the daytime shifts to prevent any lost "beauty sleep", thinking she drew the preferrable straw of bringing her to classes and openly showering her with affection. It was far from that simple; even allowing the poor girl to attempt feeding herself took weeks of convincing on his part. Brunt would sometimes ask him to assure her that the nightshifts were worse; selfishly he did, because the nights were theirs alone to share.

Black Sheep almost seemed wise to the game, promptly throwing a tantrum the second she finished her dinner each night and fussing all the way back to her nursery. No sooner did he close the door behind them though, the smiles and babbles returned. He suspected she appreciated the mental stimulation he strived to give her: letting her play in the bathtub, encouraging her movement, reading to her before bedtime. They really only had an hour or so before she fell asleep (usually in his arms), but him being present to hear her first intent utterance of 'san' was more than enough for him. Wrong as it may be, he had truly grown to love her as his own daughter, more deeply and more selflessly than any of his colleagues.

His chances to raise her had been infrequent at best. He would answer her questions about Japan and teach her self-defence whenever it felt appropriate to do so, and she would slink into his classroom for first-aid whenever she hurt herself, sometimes allowing herself to cry after putting on a brave face to impress Brunt. She quickly outgrew his meagre excuses, so he resolved to watch her play from afar, but the bubble burst soon enough. Even he had a private laugh at the sight of Booker following that first water balloon attack, but the incident was promptly followed by other pranks, and he watched on in despair as his playful little kit became a mischievous yet tender-hearted young lady, old enough to steal and eager to please. There was no avoiding the harsh reality of what the future held, what he had seen done to other graduates who refused a path of evil, and he alone had the desire to stop it. So he hid behind bravado – playing the part of despising her to keep her safe, from VILE and from himself – but through it all, he never lost sight of her. For all her talk of bringing rain, she ran with so much fire, barely disturbing the dust in her wake. At least, that is how the others may have seen it; he saw every spark she set adrift, each one glowing embers that set his long-blackened world ablaze with colour.

Shadowsan reached into his kimono, retrieving a single dollar bill from one of its pockets. He had gone through dozens over the years – being that his students were not always careful to preserve what they were stealing – but this one remained in pristine condition, bearing only the damage it sustained on that distant Tuesday night. He was almost grateful Booker's visits occurred on December 1st, Black Sheep's yearly pranks providing the perfect cover for his worse than usual moods. He could no longer conger an image of her face, but the sound of her voice remained crisp and clear. She would have liked Black Sheep – that much he knew without question. For twenty long years, he refused to let time erase her, kept her dollar in a locked drawer in his classroom and prayed for the sun to return. He would keep praying. After all, she had been right about everything else.

"I believe this is yours."

He got to his feet and held out the dollar, ready to drop it into the ocean. Nature had other plans, it seemed; a gust of wind rushed past him, snatching the bill from his grasp without inflicting a single crease on the delicate paper. He watched it go with poignant nostalgia. The dollar twirled in mid-air as it floated away on a musical, laugh-like breeze, following the backwash of his fire-tailed kitsune—the light of his life.

"Sayōnara, old friend."

A/N: For the record, I totally wasn't listening to 'Unsaid Emily' while writing this… Okay, I absolutely was. My heart!

I see Shadowsan and Emily as having a similar dynamic to Carmen and Gray (at least how I personally see them): close friends, sibling-like, maybe a hint of unrequited love. As readers of my other fics know, I'm proudly aboard the shipping vessel that is the SV Sulotta, but I could get behind the idea that Emily had a bit of a crush on him (this is Shadowsan we're talking about).

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this story. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts! :)

Translations:

Haluatko tanssia, neiti? = Do you want to dance, miss?
Kauden terveisiä! = Season's Greetings!
Tyttö = Girl
Anteeksi = Sorry
tiistai = Tuesday
Mikä on ongelma? = What is the problem?
Kiitos. = Thank you.
Sayōnara = Goodbye