AN: This fic is a gift for Arpidggio's birthday. Cross posted from ao3.

hello pidgerton. in march of 2024, purple dmed me (the great and powerful suffjaruwu) into collabing for your birthday. naturally, i accepted. naturally, purple said that we would be collabing on a oneshot. naturally, we forgor that we are both serial yappers, and so the fic has absolutely ballooned in size. naturally, there are now multiple chapters, and you will be notified of this fic for weeks on end. happy birthday. and merry christmas. and happy new year. it's a new you. WOAH. WE FOUND THE NEW YOU! IT WAS ON OUR DOCUMENT ALL ALONG! this does not release you from having to write "to find a new you", which is such an excellent fic that everyone that reads this should also read thank you to turacoverdin and speedcar for betareading! :D and for keeping this a secret.

lastly, purpleton has kept his promise that he'll publish a fic before the end of the year. congrats! he will now be stuck continuing to write it. forever. guh. (this is his words, not mine. great news for me!) hope you enjoy!

"Five, six, seven, eigh—"

"Laddie, you know that isn't anywhere near enough, why bother counting? Don't you think you're wasting your breath?"

The rhythmic clink of metal comes to an abrupt stop. Otto looks up at his ground dragon from the coins set on the makeshift stand of his wagon. "You know, Frufoo," he says primly, "it's only really wasted when you stop me from counting right when I start." Otto raises his chin and adjusts the hat on his head with an air of professionalism. "A merchant needs to tally up stock at the end of the day, after all."

Frufoo takes a pointed glance up at the sky. "End of the day? It's barely even sunset, laddie. How about you get up and back to work?"

Otto's pleasant smile droops into a scowl. "Three years of travel together, and all you do is nag and distract me!" he snaps. "How about you try talking to these privileged nobles and convincing them to buy all this out of season oil, huh?!" He slams his hand down on the back of his wagon and the impact sends the coins hurtling in different directions.

"Dammit!" Otto cries out, dropping to his knees in a mad scramble to pick up the coins. "I can't lose my profit right after I just got it!"

Frufoo lets out a deep laugh at his expense. "You only make it so easy to tease you because you're you, laddie." She moves her tail to gather up a few of the coins, stopping them from rolling too far and pushing them closer to Otto. "But because you're you, I know you're perfectly capable of doing anything you set your mind to."

"Gee, thanks." He grumbles like a little kid, scooping up the last of the stray currency into his hat.

Frufoo shakes her head at him. "Even if what you set your mind to is blowing all your earnings on liquor every night."

"Hey!" Otto snaps again, careful not to jostle the coins as he tucks them into his hat's secret pocket. "It's not my fault the bartender gives me a good rate!"

"He only gives you that because you're there every night, laddie. Remind me again how many times I've seen you show up back at the wagon drunk? You really should thank me more for watching over you. And your smelly wagon."

Otto gets up and dusts off his pants with a disgruntled glare at Frufoo. "I—I do clean the wagon, you've seen me do it, don't go pretending otherwise! You can't exactly—"

"Laddie, I think you've got your next customer," Frufoo interrupts. She sighs and relaxes in the afternoon sun as she tosses a glance behind Otto. "Doesn't that man seem suitably rich to bail you out of your poor choices?"

"I-I was just unlucky, that's all!" Otto says, turning around to follow Frufoo's gaze. It's late in the afternoon, the traffic on the street is thinned compared to some hours earlier in the day, but there are still many people going about their business. Even so, Otto can parse through the lot of them to see who Frufoo is referring to.

There's a well-dressed man, clearly the perfect picture of a noble, bumbling about without any sense of purpose in his steps. His dark blue hair reaches to his shoulders, and his thin build is padded by the money in his pockets. He gives a lingering glance toward Otto's cart—his yellow eyes resting more on Otto than any of his merchandise. Otto returns a polite smile on reflex, and it serves to beckon the man over.

Placing his hat back on, Otto makes himself presentable and asks the approaching man, "Good afternoon, sir. May I interest you in some oi—"

"Yes. You may interest me indeed," the man says, tilting his head with a wide smile. He doesn't break eye contact as he extends his hand toward Otto. "The name is Henry Casanova. What's yours, handsome?"

Otto immediately turns red. He glances behind him just to see if Henry meant someone else, then back to Henry, then to Frufoo sitting there so Frufoo can give him a matching confused look, then back to Henry. Otto laughs nervously and reaches to take Henry's hand. "I'm Otto S—"

Henry seizes it in both of his own and brings his face almost close enough to touch. "Pleasure to meet you, Otto. I'll cut to the chase. You, me, name your price."

Otto freezes up and shrieks, "Wh-What price?!"

"Laddie, I know the guy seems like a bit of a prick," Frufoo chimes in, warily eyeing Henry as she stands up again, "but maybe it's worth taking his money before shooing him off? For once, take some payment without giving someone a service, instead of the other way around."

Keeping himself from clicking his tongue at that last part, Otto looks over to her. Frufoo may have a point. He could probably pay off his debt and cover food expenses for weeks if he plays his cards right. The man has had no intention to deceive in any of his words—as slick with uncomfortable implications as they are—and Frufoo would always be ready at a moment's notice to run or attack.

If Otto will end up driving him away just like everyone else, he might as well make the most of Henry's money while he's interested in squandering it.

"Well, Casanova-san," Otto starts again, but his face is grabbed and his sights are dragged to look back into Henry's eyes.

"Please, Otto-chan, call me Henry." He exhales heavy and Otto can feel the heat of it crawl on his skin. "There's no need to look away. Just keep your eyes on me and I'll make all your troubles disappear."

As logically sound as taking advantage of Henry's interest in Otto might be, Otto doesn't know if he wants to keep his eyes on Henry—even the way he said it is giving Otto the bad kind of goosebumps, let alone that intense staring he's doing. So Otto looks over Henry's shoulder instead, subtle enough for Henry to not catch it. Just to avert his gaze at first, but then Otto's focus drifts there too. There's something on the other side of the street—someone Otto didn't see before with Henry standing in the way.

Past this overly forward man whose cologne is heavy enough to make Otto nauseous and the activity of the market which persists into the warmly lit late afternoon, there's a small boy pressed against the far wall. He notes the boy's feline ears, flattened against his orange hair, and the way the boy's tail stays low to the ground, flicking this way and that. The boy's eyes are wide, frantically darting around the street with dilated pupils—scanning the passersby, buildings, everything around yet nothing and no one returns the gesture. His shoulders are hunched in too, almost hiding in the near spotless white robe he's wearing, as his claws tug anxiously at the red bow near his neck.

That scared, lonely child—Henry must have passed over him, not giving him a second glance let alone a first. All that money jingling in Henry's pockets, and not a bit of it goes toward helping anyone but himself. Make all your troubles disappear, Henry said. Yeah. Sure. Someone comes in wanting to throw the solution to all of Otto's problems right into his lap, and it's because the only good traits Otto got from his parents are their looks.

The kid across the street keeps trying and failing to reach out for help. Otto's expression grows stern with each second that passes of seeing it go on, while Henry's waiting with baited breath and his focus squarely on his own desires. Turn around and give a stranger your attention for reasons that aren't selfish, Otto thinks to tell Henry. But it'd be a fool's errand. Otto and Henry could never be on the same page.

"For goodness sake, not this again…" Frufoo huffs at him from her standing position. Her tail swishes back and forth worriedly. "Laddie, I know what you're thinking, but you're already burning daylight as is. Don't go out on a limb for a stranger who might not even earn you a copper coin. Focus on what's in front of you, either by taking this noble's money or having me chase him off. There's no need to get into more trouble."

Of course, Henry ignores any of Frufoo's words as he stares into Otto's face—her rumbling vocalizations incoherent and insignificant to any normal person. And even if one did care about what she had to say, like Otto's little brother Regin has ever since he was a child, they could never fully understand her. Otto's never met anyone else who could comprehend the language of animals like he could. All others with that ability died before he was born. Only he survived through his hell, holding onto a sense of self despite the persistent voices he heard constantly through his Divine Protection.

Otto was frequently lost as a child because of it. He always wandered away from his family without realizing, distracted by all the various animals that liked to surround him, troubling the Suwens regularly by just how often he drifted away from them—and with no way to return alone, no way to communicate with strangers, he was left isolated time and time again. Until his family found him and helped him find his way back.

They're the only reason he's still alive.

And now it's twenty years later. Henry and every damn person on the street won't stop for even a moment to help this random kid who's lost in the middle of the marketplace. Frufoo's hovering behind Otto's back and the only thing stopping her from shoving Henry away is him being way too close to Otto. And the only thing stopping Otto from accepting that offer that's too good to refuse is…

"So what do you say, Otto-chan?" Henry presses.

It would be so easy to say yes, wring Henry dry of all his money and then run off, burning bridges once Otto has everything he needs. Ruthless utilization of every asset, discarding them when they become a liability—that's a core tenant of being a merchant, a requirement to forge one's own path in an unfair, unforgiving world.

Reaching his hand to remove Henry's off his cheek, Otto takes a step back. It's a shame Otto's always failed to achieve the mercantile ideals his family instilled in him. "I apologize, Casanova-san, but I will have to decline your proposal. I—"

"Decline? Decline?" Henry raises his voice and glares at Otto. "You're lucky to even know my name. Do you have any idea who I am? How many people would kill to feel my touch? I'm worth more than all the money your soft, delicate hands have handled in your entire life!"

"Alright, that's enough," Frufoo says, before stepping forward and growling at Henry over Otto's shoulder. "Get out, you bastard."

Henry scoffs and crosses his arms, not sparing a glance at Frufoo as she begins to assert herself. "Figures your ground dragon would be as ill-mannered as you, Oliver."

Blearily—through the weird haze of being flirted with for the first and worst time in his life—all Otto can think is: Oliver?!

Otto ducks behind Frufoo as she snarls, "Ill-mannered? I'll show you ill-mannered after you didn't even leave any coins before showing your true colors." She rears back only to slam her massive head into Henry, who shrieks as he falls onto the street.

"You'll fucking pay for that, Owen," Henry seethes as he gets up and dusts himself off. Otto can only stare, completely dumbfounded at the rest of what Henry spits out. "You'll come crawling back and we'll see who's really got luscious locks and supple hips. Cute, soft-skinned bastard."

Henry spins on his heel, storming away and down the street, still grumbling under his breath. Otto sighs to himself. Scratching the back of his head, Otto tries not to linger on the feeling of Henry's touch on his skin or the—the comments Henry made. Frufoo's still standing in front of Otto and his cart, so he raises a hand to pat Frufoo's back. "It's fine now, Frufoo," Otto mumbles. "You're going to block out any more customers that are—" Aren't. "—interested in what I, Owen-chan, have to sell."

"And that little boy across the street is going to buy your oil?" Frufoo says with a stern glare. "Give me a break, laddie. I decide to trust your judgment with this 'Harold Casaway' and the guy starts ranting at you and feeling you up! Forget what I said about getting back to work, we should just leave now and try again tomorrow."

"You worry too much, Frufoo," Otto replies, waving his hand dismissively and eyeing the boy across the street. Otto, of course, also decides to ignore the sound of Frufoo scoffing at him again. "I won't be gone long. I'll just bring him to a guard and I'll be back before Water Time," he adds, already making his way toward the child.

Frufoo sighs at him with all the weight of spending years living alongside him. "Alright, laddie," she says, "I'll keep worrying enough for the both of us. See you when you're back here black out drunk at Earth Time."

Ignoring that last comment—because Otto will most definitely not be black out drunk at Earth Time—Otto slaps his usual polite smile onto his face. "Hello there!" Otto calls out. The boy's eyes flick over to Otto at the sound of the merchant's cautious footsteps approaching him. Otto softens his voice and asks, "Is something the matter? You seem quite distressed."

Otto doesn't hold the boy's gaze for too long or stray too close. No prolonged eye contact so he doesn't seem aggressive. Keep a good distance. It comes easy for Otto, used to the rules of feline communication.

Cats were some of the animals Otto talked to the most since he was small, and gaining their trust was always an honor. The attitude they kept, the confidence they had in knowing what they needed—cat demihumans could be far different, sure, but it's always good to make a safe bet.

"H-hello," the boy replies, giving Otto a curt bow. "I'm, um, lookin' for my captain, but… I forgot which way ta go…" He trails off, looking away from Otto as a feeling of guilt drags his sights down.

When Otto was little, the place he got lost in the most frequently was the market. It happened more times than Otto could count, and it was often Otto's older brother Oslo who was saddled with the responsibility of looking for him. Mom and Dad were working, Regin was either not born yet or too young to help, and it's not like any of Otto's family members expected him to wander off because he wanted to stare at an animal that kept chirping at him. Well, they didn't expect it the first few times, at least.

In Picoutatte, information is everything. Before he became known as the town troublemaker, Otto used to just be the Suwen family's timid, voiceless son. No one took an interest in him unless he was causing problems. Henry wasn't so different from everyone else, after all. Vain and fickle. A little like Diadora, at her worst, but maybe she did like Oslo for more than just looks.

Otto sucks in a breath and says, "I am Otto Suwen." He gets down on one knee before the boy, meeting him at eye level. "What's your name?"

The boy raises his head just enough to look Otto in the eyes. "My name's Hetaro."

In just a few words, the Kararagi accent in Hetaro's voice comes across so obviously. It's a curious little detail. What's a Kararagian child doing in the Lugunican capital of all places? "It's nice to meet you, Hetaro," Otto says, keeping his voice level and gentle as he tucks away that thought. "Just—if I may ask, how exactly did you end up here all alone?"

Hetaro's tail swishes nervously back and forth. "My big sister Mimi's in trouble, and Tivey told me ta go get help, but—"

"But you became separated, yes?" Otto finishes. He stands up and offers his hand to Hetaro. "Maybe I can be of assistance. Where did you last see your siblings?"

Hetaro blinks up at Otto's hand. "An alleyway in the slums…"

Ah. Shit. An alleyway in the slums, Hetaro says, like it's no big deal going into the most dangerous part of town to find missing children. Otto prays to gods he doesn't believe in that Hetaro's siblings aren't trapped in some convoluted and unlucky situation that'd take ages to solve.

So Otto tries for a reassuring smile when he says, "Can you take me there, Hetaro?"

Hetaro hesitates. Reaching out slowly, he takes Otto's hand in his with the same timid manner he's shown this whole time—and then he yanks on Otto's hand as he breaks out into a run so fast that Otto immediately trips over himself and slams into the ground face-first.

Ow. His nose better not be broken on top of everything else today.

Otto muffles his coughing into the hood of his cloak as he tries to wave away all the dust Hetaro just kicked up. "Hold—hold on, I haven't even—" He pauses to spend a very long and embarrassing second hacking up what feels like one of his lungs. He then spends another long and embarrassing second peeling himself off the floor and staggering to his feet. "—taken a step yet."

"Sorry, Otto-san!" Hetaro blurts out. When he glances back, there's a barely-stymied energy to him; his tail twitches, his legs are bent enough to kick off at a moment's notice, and he doesn't fully turn around to finish speaking to Otto. "I can go slower if ya need, but we gotta go!"

"I," Otto wheezes, "Yeah, I think that would be for the best, if you don't mind, but please don't let me slow you down too much!"

Hetaro gives a curt nod and then starts moving once more. He's going at a slightly slower pace this time, enough so that Otto can—just barely—keep himself from face planting again, but Hetaro still travels at a breakneck speed as the two of them traverse the streets.

The alleyways fly by in a blur. Hetaro, for a lost child in the middle of the big city, seems to have a sense of direction so good that he's quickly turning every corner and ducking into various alley shortcuts that Otto can barely squeeze through. But Hetaro's supposed to be lost right now, isn't he? Isn't that the whole point of dragging Otto along to find his siblings?

Ah, right, Hetaro was looking for his captain. Whoever that is. Still, Hetaro's navigation is accurate and certain to an unnatural degree. Perhaps it's some kind of ability—maybe related to him being part-cat, maybe not—but it doesn't matter to Otto anyhow. Children in this world are born with all sorts of powers, so it isn't anything out of the realm of possibility. Otto knows firsthand that Divine Protections can leave you isolated from the moment of your birth, so it's important to not lose those few people in the world you can relate to.

That means Hetaro just needs to find his siblings. And Otto just needs to leave the moment that's done. He's got one eye on the sky and the other on Hetaro in front of him, because the sun's going to set eventually and time's not something he has in spades. Otto tries to not think about how every wasted second is another closer to proving Frufoo correct once again. And she's always correct.

Otto weighs the pros and cons. Helping children, siblings no less, is surely an admirable endeavor. Normal and ethical people can do a good deed without a clear benefit for themselves in it, right? It'll make up for his crippling debt for sure.

Unfortunately, that sentiment doesn't stop the whopping eight-ish coins in Otto's hat from screaming at him, or clean the dust and dirt from his outfit that all this running's splattered onto it. But the next alleyway flies by in another blur, the last one right before the merchant district ends and the slums start.

And then Otto feels a droplet of water land on his wrist. Which is strange, considering the bright blue skies above his head—but then they come to a screeching halt. Hetaro's been dragging Otto around this whole time like a ground dragon would pull a carriage, which is as humiliating as it sounds, so Hetaro's sense of urgency vanishing abruptly like that leaves Otto confused.

It's great that he's being given a moment to catch his breath, but why stop? Otto opens his mouth to ask Hetaro, Is something the matter again? but then another droplet lands on Otto's sleeve. Otto glances down at the growing wetness soaking his wrist, and that's when he sees that the droplet is a vivid red.

It's blood. Obviously. Of course it's blood. The Otto Suwen bad luck happens all the time, but there's blood from what? From where? Washing it from his outfit is going to be such a pain in the ass, but—

Otto's eyes dart right to Hetaro—more specifically, right to the cut slashed across Hetaro's cheek and the blood bubbling up to the surface.

His heart lurches out of his chest. "Heta—"

Hetaro launches forward again even faster than before. Otto's arm jerks harshly along like the limb's about to be torn off his body. Hetaro's gripping Otto's hand strong enough that Otto thinks he hears his bones cracking, too, but he hopes that's just the gravel they're running on. It would be extremely embarrassing to die to a child like this after everything else he's survived.

It would also be rather embarrassing if that was Otto's last thought before he died, so Otto grits his teeth and—

Hetaro grinds to another halt so sudden that the momentum sends Otto crashing to the ground again. He bites back a startled cry, scrambling to his feet. They're at the mouth of an alley, a dead end. But they can't afford to keep their guards down, because they're not alone.

Another child that looks exactly like Hetaro stands in front of them, back turned, hissing at someone deeper into the alleyway—a tall and cloaked figure holding another child identical to Hetaro. The third child is unconscious and the figure has a knife to the child's cheek, right beside the braids framing her face. Mimi, Otto remembers. The kidnapper—because Otto has a feeling that this is more than a random mugging—presses the blade deep enough to cut into Mimi's skin.

The matching cut on Hetaro's cheek oozes out more blood, and Otto catches a glimpse of yet another matching cut on the side of Hetaro's brother's face. Hetaro's brother—Tivey, most likely—still doesn't seem to notice the fact that Otto and Hetaro are there. The child's frozen in place, his hisses turning into growling, his hands tightening around the staff he's holding. The kidnapper's own face stays obscured, but Otto can see the silhouette of their lips pressed into a thin line as they glance warily at Otto and Hetaro.

Out of the corner of Otto's eye, Hetaro stiffens like he's about to make another move.

Of course, Hetaro's fast and likely highly capable. But if he and his two siblings really are connected in a way that causes them to share the same injuries, can the rest of their abilities still be counted on when one of them is already unconscious?

Otto keeps his eyes on the kidnapper. He sucks in a breath, like he's about to dip underwater, and taps into his Divine Protection. Vague insect buzzes, distant bird chirps, closer rat squeaks, even closer raccoon chitters—

Hetaro charges down the alleyway with a yowl, claws bared like he's trying to tear the kidnapper limb from limb. Otto grabs onto Hetaro's shoulder and a cat-like hiss escapes Otto's lips— "Careful!"

The kidnapper yanks out another dagger from the inside of their cloak and stabs it into the back of Mimi's leg. Hetaro falls away from Otto's grip mid-sprint, slamming his nose right into the dirt. Tivey sways where he stands and falls to his knees.

"Elder sister! Big bro!" Tivey calls out.

The kidnapper pauses for a moment, grip loosening slightly on Mimi. Otto tries to grab Hetaro again, seeing Hetaro twitch on the floor with his every muscle tensing up. That can't be a good sign, nothing in this situation is acceptable and they need to leave—Otto isn't a damn knight, who the hell does he think he is—so he keeps one eye on the enemy and another on the entrance to the alley as he reaches for Hetaro. But then Hetaro drags his little face off the floor and screams.

A wave of mana bursts out of Hetaro's mouth, weaponizing the air with intense oscillating vibrations, erupting into the alleyway with all the force of a magic stone explosion. Otto slaps his hands over his ears on instinct, even if the sound isn't anywhere near as bad as when he was a child. The kidnapper almost drops Mimi, but they pivot on their feet, hiding behind the girl's small body like a meat shield. With a deft motion, they smash their fist into her throat before Hetaro's shockwave can knock them both to the ground.

Hetaro's scream cuts off, ending with a hoarse whimper—which morphs into a small cry when another cut opens up on his throat. It perfectly matches the one on Mimi's neck, her unconscious body still limp in the kidnapper's arms. The dagger, drenched with the blood from her leg, now drips onto her chest. Hetaro goes very still, glancing up between his brother and his sister.

He yells as loud as his strained voice can manage, face twitching with rage, "Big sis…!"

Otto's heart pounds. Logically fucking speaking, he could try to run and pretend this didn't happen, but there's no point in that now. Standing by doing exactly nothing while children get hurt looks incredibly bad. And if Otto doesn't do something, the winning party of the fight will probably eat him alive. Even if they don't, Otto will forever see them in his nightmares. What's the pros and cons of doing more now? Well, it's—

Otto opens his mouth and screeches, high and shrill and animalistic, loud enough to irritate the ears. He counts the seconds in his head. One. The cloaked figure recoils back—only to find that there's nothing. Two. There are no shockwaves of destructive mana. No special, all-powerful attack. Three. The scream dies soon after. Four. Otto's just standing there, panting with his hands curled into fists. Five. Otto can hear faint, scurrying footsteps scratching across the ground from the next alleyway over. Six. Otto's scream echoes and fades in the silence. Hetaro and his brother glance at Otto with matching confused faces. Otto briefly wishes he was buried six feet under if it meant saving face. Seven. The kidnapper looks up at the sky and shakes their head like they're trying to get rid of the lingering ringing in their ears. Eight.

A raccoon pounces from the nearest rooftop and screeches back what Otto himself screamed: "Attack intruder!" Otto made his scream sound like the call of a baby raccoon on purpose, after all.

The raccoon lands right on the figure's cloak and starts clawing at their head. They drop Mimi, her body crashing to the ground as the kidnapper stumbles back into the wall and flails out in desperate thrashes, failing to pry the raccoon off of them. Hetaro pulls himself up just enough to crawl toward his sister. The blood from the siblings' leg wounds oozes out onto the ground, turning it red as Hetaro painfully drags his body against the floor.

"W-Wait!" Otto shouts, already reaching a hand out. "You'll make your wounds worse—"

Tivey lurches to his feet, holding the staff in one hand and helping Hetaro up with the other. The two of them lean on each other, further balancing themselves with their staff, as they quickly make their way to Mimi. Working in tandem, they hoist their sister up between them and drag her towards the entrance to the alley. For the first time since he's gotten there, Otto sees Mimi begin to stir. Maybe she'll regain consciousness soon? Or maybe that's just hopeful thinking on Otto's part.

Either way, anything's better than being as limp as a ragdoll. Though, it probably makes it more difficult to move Mimi. But against all odds, Hetaro and Tivey are awfully efficient in their rescue efforts, taking full advantage of the kidnapper fighting off a still-shrieking raccoon—for as long as the enraged mother can bear down on the intruder, at least.

Otto can respect that. Normally a leg wound like that would incapacitate most—even seasoned fighters—but if Hetaro and Tivey can still move despite that shared wound, that means it's less shared wound and more shared burden.

Hah, Otto almost forgot that this sort of teamwork even existed.

He gives one last glance to the trio of orange cats. They're so similar in appearance and age that Otto reasons they must be triplets. And despite the anxiety that was clear in the brothers' faces, the grunts Otto can hear as they limp away, the amount of blood they've stained the floor with—never once did either of them panic or buckle under the pressure. Otto tries not to think about how much hardship the three of them must've had to endure together.

Instead, Otto steps directly in front of them, standing between them and the current bit of hardship they've been reckoning with. He searches his brain for all the self-defense lessons his family signed him up for when he was a child. It comes to him like muscle memory, gathering up the little mana he has from within himself. The triplets have reached the alley's entrance, but they won't be safe until there isn't someone a raccoon and a dozen steps away from kidnapping them again. One well-placed Dona could end this sooner.

"My apologies," the kidnapper mutters under their breath—right before managing to grab onto the raccoon and lightly throwing her aside.

The raccoon crashes into a wall and scrambles away with a loud whine. Otto silently watches her leave, briefly pays his respects—Sorry for using you like that, sorry for not even saying sorry out loud—and takes a step forward. The kidnapper's cloak is messy in places, areas of fabric worn from the raccoon's clawing. The way they're half turned away from Otto, hand on their head like they've got a headache, might indicate that they're going to turn tail and run themselves.

Good. This'll be over soon. Otto can head back to Frufoo and say he at least didn't take too long trying to help children for no profit whatsoever. Otto readies his Dona, the word right on the tip of his tongue as—

Otto sees a flash of color at the corner of his eye and stops. A massive and muscular swordsman decked head to toe in dark, metal armor—twice Otto's height and wide enough to block Otto from leaving the alleyway—stands to his right.

…what the hell? Where did this man appear from? And why does Otto sense intent from the swordsman without any words being spoken? Otto shakes his head, focuses on his spell again. It's fine. He'll make this quick and then start running right after. There's an unspecified desire to protect wafting off of the stranger, which is unusual, but if he wants to stand there ominously staring, so be it. It's not as if Otto didn't do that frequently as a child, so this is really no big deal and nothing to worry abou—

The swordsman charges at Otto like a bull.

"F-Fuck!" Otto squeaks. Forget the goddamn spell, forget the intentions, just get the hell out of the way. Otto reels backwards in a desperate attempt to run, run, run—and then his foot catches on a stray crack in the ground. His ankle twists with a sharp stab of pain. He trips forward and sideways, his head crashing right into the brick wall beside him.

Then Otto slams into the ground with a thud. He lands on his back, his entire body aching as he groans and coughs up some stray dust that got into his mouth. His hat fell off in the chaos, somewhere. "Curse my fucking luck," Otto whines. Unlike Hetaro, he's got no surprise trump card to show off after his stumble.

A stray beam of light catches in his eyes, and he stares up at the sky—shit, is the sun setting already, or is the thrumming in Otto's head exploding his eyesight that badly? Another light catches Otto's eye, right at the corners again. He turns, struggling to raise his head up, and when he looks down the alleyway, the swordsman's gone now like he never even existed. Instead, the kidnapper's cloak swishes on past him. They ignore him in favor of chasing after the triplets.

That's rather irritating. Otto's entire body is aching, he feels like he'll collapse in on himself at any moment, and despite the far-too-immense effort he's put into this, it's amounting into absolutely nothing except one of the worst days of his life.

And it's not like he's the only one having a terrible time. The panicked screeching of the mother as she was tossed aside from her target lingers in his ears. The need to protect from that swordsman who vanished. The waves of mana that Hetaro cried out, which Otto barely stopped from seeping into his skull with hands on his head. Disoriented, imbalanced, off-kilter. This is an echo of that familiar hell of his Divine Protection—the very thing that killed everyone else with it. The very thing his family warned him not to drown in.

Otto looks at the kidnapper walking down the alleyway, and drags himself up by the skin of his teeth. He won't let these siblings be torn apart again. If he can't rely on looks, on smarts, on tactics, then all Otto has is the instinct he was born with. Otto sinks himself into the mindset of a parent protecting their child, and lunges at the kidnapper's legs like a rabid raccoon.

The figure topples over as Otto screeches out another "Attack intruder!", this time as an adult male raccoon rather than a baby. He claws at the kidnapper like one too, thrashing at them with his whole body weight. His nails aren't as sharp as claws, but he damn well tries to make them bleed.

"Fucking bastard—" the kidnapper mutters, reaching for the dagger in their cloak. Otto lunges forward and bites at the hand reaching for the weapon. He catches their forearm in his teeth, and holds on tight, shaking his head side to side as the taste of iron enters his mouth. With how messy his hair's gotten, Otto probably looks as rabid as he's acting.

"FUCK!" the kidnapper screams, shoving their free hand into a pocket of their cloak. Otto unclenches his jaw, ready to chomp down on their other arm. He lunges for their hand again, but as it retracts from the pocket, they shove a damp cloth right into Otto's wide-open mouth, slamming it closed with a swift punch to the underside of his jaw.

Otto tries to resist, some sense returning to him, hacking and spitting to dislodge the cloth. The kidnapper turns the tables on him as he does, flipping him over and pinning him down to the ground. Otto struggles against their grip, writhing and wriggling and kicking his feet, but he's losing strength by the second.

Off in the not-so-far-away distance, Otto hears the sound of three screams put together ringing in his ears. He lifts his head weakly, squinting at the sight of the triplets standing together with their mouths open in their unified magic scream, but even with the noise, his head feels heavy.

The kidnapper lets go of him, but he feels so, so heavy. His eyes are already slipping closed before he can even force them open. He should be pretty damn used to getting beat up with the amount of times it's happened throughout his life, but the one millionth time is the charm, it seems.

The ground feels awfully cold underneath Otto's cheek. The last thing he thinks before falling unconscious is—

Fuck my life. I proved Frufoo right again.

Then the world goes dark.

Mimi closes her mouth and chases after the kidnapper. She doesn't quite understand why she was just sleeping, but all she needs to know is that Tivey and Hetaro are hurt, and that this mean person is why. Mimi's the super duper strongest Vice Captain! No one gets away with hurting her little brothers!

"Elder sister!" Tivey calls from behind, and Mimi glances back while still running down the alleyway. "We can't get separated again! Our assailant may lead us ta another trap if we pursue 'em!"

Tivey's smart, but it doesn't matter if there's a trap because Mimi's awake this time. She'll just beat up the bad guy and be right back.

"Big sis! Yer bleeding on the ground, please at least heal yer leg first!" Hetaro says too, his ears drooping in worry.

Mimi slows down, because it's the elder sister's duty to stop her little brothers from crying. Mimi remembers when they were kittens and the traffickers stabbed four holes in her tummy. Even if Tivey is forgetful, Mimi can still hear in her mind the sound of his begging in between sobs. And Hetaro's a coward, he'd cry really really easy if she wasn't so awesome.

"It can't be helped," Mimi says, stopping and turning around. She walks back to her brothers with a bit of a limp, seeing that Hetaro and Tivey have a cut on their cheeks and a wound on their legs too. Hovering a hand over each of their injuries, she uses her magic to start healing them all.

"Big bro," Tivey says to Hetaro, "Who exactly is this man?"

Mimi looks over at who Tivey pointed to. It's a skinny guy in green taking a nap on the floor. "Is that the guy who went SKREEEE before Mimi started wakin' up?"

"Yes, big sis, he is," Hetaro replies, idly rubbing his healing throat, "I didn't expect that of him at all."

"And immediately followin' his animalistic call, a raccoon jumped out from behind that there dumpster and started attackin' our assailant," Tivey says, stretching out his right leg. "That's actually the reason they dropped ya, elder sister."

"SKREEEEEEEE!" Mimi yells. She waits a few seconds but no raccoons come. That's boring, but maybe it'll take some practice before she can do it too. Just like when the captain taught her to go all GAAAAAAWN.

"Still," Tivey says, turning to Hetaro again, "that doesn't quite explain who he is, big bro."

Hetaro fiddles with his hands. "Well, I got lost lookin' for the inn and Otto-san said he could provide assistance…"

"Otottoto," Mimi mutters. What a funny guy, his name sounds like oops!

"Big bro…" Tivey rubs the bridge of his nose. "When I said ta get help I meant the captain or some local guards. Why'd ya bring a random merchant who held ya back? If anythin', this Otto-san's involvement was counterproductive."

Hetaro fully slumps down, but that won't do at all. "Hetaro, don'tcha worry so much!" Mimi says, finishing her healing and clapping her younger brother on the shoulders. "Mimi's the eldest siblin'. Mimi's supposed to protect ya and Tivey. So if anyone's ta blame, it's Mimi."

Mimi gives a big toothy grin. "And since Mimi's so awesome, no one's to blame! Mimi just hasta be even more awesome in the future! Mimi'll be the best at wakin' up on time! I'll get another full point for it!"

Tivey gives a heavy sigh, handing Mimi back her staff. "Elder sister, I don't believe that logic is quite sound."

Hetaro's ears perk up and he smiles. "You can do it, big sis!"

Still holding her staff, Mimi places a hand on both of her hips, nodding to herself in satisfaction. When she was a kitten, before ma'lady took them in, they were saved by a strange old man in the slums of Banan. His name was Roshi, and he's the one Tivey begged for help after the traffickers hurt her and Hetaro real bad.

Roshi taught Mimi and her brothers many things, and one day he told Mimi that if she became second to none at something, she'd get a full point. So Mimi declared that she'd become the best at a hundred things, and Roshi told her that would make her his hundred full points daughter.

Mimi remembers that, because Roshi also told her to not be the kind of person who breaks promises. She doesn't know exactly how many things she's second to none at, but the more the merrier! If it ends up over a hundred, she'll just have even more full points!

Walking over to the sleeping oops guy, Tivey says, "Puttin' aside the matter of why he's involved, we hafta decide what ta do now that he is."

Mimi follows after Tivey. She takes her staff and starts poking at the guy's head, rocking it back and forth against the floor. The way his gray hair scrubs against it makes it look like Mimi's using a mop! He's a heavy sleeper though, for someone with such big circles under his eyes. If she couldn't hear him snoring, she might not think he was alive!

"I reckon the kidnapper put the same cloth in Otto-san's mouth as they did to big sis," Hetaro says, walking past Mimi and picking up the green hat laying next to the guy.

"Oh, so then Oops-san should finish nappin' in a few minutes, right?" Mimi asks, done playing with her mop.

"Big sis, it's Otto-san," Hetaro tries to correct her. He puts the hat on the guy's head, hiding as much of the messy hair underneath as he can.

"Well, elder sister, it kept ya under for a good thirty minutes, and we know from past experience that our demihuman physiology makes us more tolerant ta sedatives." Tivey adjusts his monocle, brushing Otto's hair out of the way to inspect his ears. "While this merchant seems ta be a normal human. It could be hours before he wakes."

"Mhm, mhm," Mimi nods along, "Mimi's fizzy fallen tree makes Mimi taller than seven bibs. Which means Otter-san is gonna take a longer nap."

"Hmmm," Hetaro puts a hand to his chin, looking like Julius when he's thinking real hard, "Are ya sure he's a normal human? With how he screeched, maybe he really is Otter-san?"

"Hetaro," Mimi asks, "Did he tell ya his last name?"

"Suwen… I think."

"Oh! Otter Swimmin'! We should toss him in the river ta wake him up!"

Tivey sighs again. First Joshua copied Tivey's monocle. Then it was Hetaro thinking like Julius. And now Tivey copies Joshua's sighing? Mimi hopes Julius doesn't copy Hetaro's cowardly nature, ma'lady wouldn't like that at all.

What does that mean Mimi will start doing? There's no big sister for her to copy!

"Otters can't breathe under water, elder sister," Tivey says, and Mimi listens to him before her head starts to hurt. "And just look at him, does he look like a demihuman ta you? Tossin' him in the river would probably just drown him."

Mimi uses her staff to poke Otto some more. Maybe he's hiding fur under all those clothes?

"Either way," Tivey says, "we can't just leave him here."

"Abandonin' someone so weak wouldn't be chivalrous!" Mimi declares. It took her some time, but Hetaro corrected her enough that now she can say that word right! Or maybe she's copying Julius too!

"I agree with big sis, maybe we can bring him back ta his wagon?" Hetaro suggests. "I found him sellin' stuff in the merchant district."

"The boss lady does always tell us ta never leave merchandise unattended," Tivey says.

"Then it's settled!" Mimi picks up Otto effortlessly, lugging him over her shoulders. But because of their difference in height, Otto's legs drag on the ground as she walks. She reaches the threshold of the alley and turns around. "Lead the way, Hetaro!"

Hetaro quickly jogs out of the alley. "Umm, I think it was left first."

Tivey follows behind them both, rubbing his forehead. "What're we gonna tell the captain? We were supposed ta get snacks and come right back…"

"Ya worry too much, Tivey! The captain—" Ricardo Welkin. "—goes ta drink and comes back late all the time!" Mimi Pearlbaton says with enthusiasm, as though she wasn't drugged unconscious mere minutes ago.

"Big sis," Hetaro Pearlbaton says, his tenacious nature hidden under a deceptively timid demeanor, "drinkin' at a bar and goin' for a shoppin' trip in the market aren't quite the same."

"Indeed." Tivey Pearlbaton adjusts his monocle as he observes with precise calculation: "Besides, the boss lady—" Anastasia Hoshin. "—reprimands him for it every time. I don't know if it's the best example ta follow."

"But no matter how much ma'lady scolds the captain, they still get along 'cause they're family. So don'tcha worry, everythin'll be fine! Leave it to Mimi, I'll report ta the captain myself!"

Tivey and Hetaro look at each other. Mimi doesn't see their exasperation, yet the Pearlbaton triplets stand as the backbone of the Iron Fang for a reason. It would be foolish to underestimate their coordination.

"Big bro," Tivey sighs, "for now I think ya should just focus on navigation."
Hetaro gives a firm nod. "Oh, right! We have to hurry and get Otto-san—" Otto Suwen. An unplanned nuisance. "—back ta his wagon!" Located in the merchant district. The question is where exactly, and where they'll be headed afterward.

Mimi keeps walking even without her brothers following. Otto's pitiful body trails on the ground with every step Mimi takes, of course.

"Big sis!" Hetaro calls out, running after her. Ever the loyal and loving younger sibling. "Come back! That's the wrong way!"

Carmine stops listening to them because it's giving her even more of a headache. She learned all she needs to know for now anyway, and she can't waste even a second of rest. She doesn't exactly get that in spades.

With a sigh, Carmine turns her body and rests her back against the roof's edge. She yanks her cloak off and slumps to the floor. In a practiced motion she's done a million times before, Carmine reaches both her gloved hands to the edge of her balaclava, but her right arm twitches. She glances over. A green spotlight illuminates the still bleeding bite mark on her forearm.

"That bastard…" Carmine seethes. She pushes through the pain—it's mild, for her standards—and exposes her head to the afternoon air. A breeze rolls past and she takes a deep breath, feeling the heat radiating off her skin.

A flashing green light gets her attention again. Carmine softens and turns her head to her spirit companion. "Yeah, Sunny, I know," she mumbles. Sunny's already spinning around her in a desperate attempt to do what she's asking for before she even says it. "Thank you. Can you check if I have any injuries other than the bite mark, please?"

Carmine leans forward, and removes her black suit jacket, revealing the black vest and button-up shirt underneath. Including the cloak, usually this many layers stops her from getting so much as a scratch. It's a rather practical uniform for several different uses.

Sunny comes to a stop beside Carmine's head and flashes red. "Thank you again," Carmine says, reaching out a hand as if to pet Sunny. She can't really touch Sunny, but they go to float above her palm regardless. She holds them for a brief moment, just for Sunny's sake, then sighs and drops her hand. There's still more to do now; she can feel Sunny staring at her, waiting for more instruction. "That merchant ended up doing more damage than the mercenaries or the raccoon. What a pain in my ass."

Carmine closes her eyes and tilts her head back. She pictures her own body in her mind, identifying the shape of her wound just by feeling the lingering pain in her arm. That bastard chewed a hole through her jacket sleeve no doubt.

It's a stain on her perfect record.

Carmine checks on the multiple hidden knives on her body without needing to look. With small twitches of her calves, left bicep, and right thigh—she stashed the one usually on her right bicep in her cloak after what that bastard did—every blade is accounted for. Sunny could shine a light for her, but it's faster this way. Can't take their help for granted regardless, no matter how much she wants to keep them by her side indefinitely.

She calms her breathing, feeling the sweat drip down her back. The breeze gently brushes her short burgundy red hair, and cools her freckled face. If she was allowed to feel the sun more, she'd have more freckles than this—but that's useless to dwell on now. She takes a deep breath through that damned crooked nose of hers, and opens her brown eyes to finally see what Sunny's up to.

A massive armor-clad figure stands before her, gripping an otter in green clothes in one hand and a bucket of water in the other. Noiselessly, the figure mimes giving it a bath as the otter lashes out in furious futile resistance.

A grin creeps at the corners of Carmine's lips. Carmine almost doesn't notice it until the figure dissipates and Sunny flashes an excited red—the same color as her hair. When Sunny turns red, they always choose that same shade. Carmine's lips flatten back to normal, and she tells them, "Good job tricking that merchant pisshead, Sunny. Please go check on the raccoon for me, will ya?"

Flashing red once again in confirmation, Sunny floats away out of sight. Carmine's face falls as soon as they're gone. She looks down at her bite wound; it's barely visible with the sun setting. Perhaps it was good that Sunny hadn't tried that swordsman trick with the triplets. If knocking that bumbling oaf of a merchant off balance did all this, then doing so with the Pearlbatons would have spelled disaster.

Carmine was right to go for the eldest first, but from now on they'll be too on guard. Can't separate them again. She drags a hand through her hair, hard enough to tug at the strands, and grumbles, "I don't have orders for what to do in this scenario…"
Otto Suwen. Suwen. A prominent merchant family from the Commercial City of Picoutatte. Not important enough for Carmine to have any other first names memorized, but they all have a recognizable last name that indicates they've been well-established for generations. That, and it's not as if every merchant family in existence has a child with the power to speak to animals. Because of these unique traits, she'll have to include him in her report, and she'll certainly be blamed for getting him involved.

Carmine stiffens at the thought of being reprimanded, falling from the good graces she's climbed to, and presses her back firmly against the cold wall. But a red light gets her attention, sparing her from dwelling any longer on that thought.

"So, the raccoon's safe, after all," Carmine mutters under her breath. "That's good to hear." She reaches a hand out to touch the shoes she's wearing, but Sunny floats in front of her, insistently flashing a very bright green over her bite wound. "I don't have time to bandage it right now," she explains. "We have to get going."

Sunny briefly flashes blue at this. Carmine softens her voice just for them. "I'm sorry, Sunny."

Her hand passes right through the yang spirit, and she brushes the dial on the shoes—pushing some of her mana into the mechanism. With the pushback it gives, there's at least half the charge remaining. That should be enough to trail the triplets to the merchant district, along with mana to spare in case she needs to retreat.

Carmine stands, swiping her suit jacket back onto her arms as she does so. She pulls the balaclava onto her head, dons her cloak just as swiftly, and goes to stand at the edge of the roof. "Sunny," Carmine calls, all of these motions second nature by now. She gives Sunny a small salute. "Lead the way."

Sunny flashes red, then yellow, and stays yellow as they zoom forward in a straight line through the air. Carmine kicks off the ground, and—aided by the metia shoes issued to her—leaps to the next rooftop, lands with a graceful roll, then pushes onwards, following after Sunny.

Her breathing is as even and as precise as her every movement. The shoes give her a boost, but they don't do anything for the way back down—and she knows exactly what to do to combat that. Carmine leaps again and again, contorting herself mid-air to prepare for a landing, and she absorbs the shock of crashing to the ground over and over as best as the human body can.

Sunny raises in the air sharply, shooting up above a five story building right in front of her. Carmine prepares herself as she runs, scanning the area ahead—no stairs, just a vertical brick wall with a handful of boarded up windows laid into it.

The boots can't send her a full three stories up in a single jump.

Carmine leaps again without slowing her sprint. She grabs onto the ledge of the fourth story window, her black gloves protecting the skin on her fingers from abrasion. She's still for barely half a second. Then she swings her legs back, her body a pendulum held by just by the strength of her grip—her right forearm screaming at her in a sharp pain at the strain—and she uses the shoes to kick off against the brick wall.

She does so at full force and at a slight upward angle. It's still insufficient to reach the top of the building, so she begins to fall again. Contorting her body into position mid-air, she lands on the sliver of ledge the boarded up window provides—standing where she was just hanging from on the fourth story.

From there, it's simple. Carmine takes one more calculated leap up, hoists her body up the final ledge, and emerges onto the roof of the five story building. The whole endeavor takes less than half a minute, but she has no time to spare. Carmine pushes forward without stopping to rest; Sunny knows to not wait for her.

The next few roofs are all of a similar height. They're passing through a failed housing project at the intersection of the commoner and merchant districts. Construction took years, a great deal of taxpayer-funded government money, and now they're left to rot. The proximity to the slums supposedly drove away any tenants, and no one wants to take responsibility for how much investment these large apartments took to create.

Officially, most of them are vacant, only the buildings closest to a main road still leased out and occupied. This leaves the abandoned spaces to serve as nothing more than a brief sanctuary from the law for a variety of small-time criminals in the slums. Thieves hide in the maze of empty halls while evading guards, smugglers store contraband in sealed off rooms in between sales, and worst of all are the traffickers. Lowlife slavers squat here, slithering in from Kararagi ever since the practice was put to an end there too, all looking to turn a profit on human suffering.

The leased out buildings aren't much better. None of them are used as apartments anymore, instead repurposed into a handful of shady businesses, adjacent to the capital's primary gambling den. Carmine doesn't linger. She knows damn well what organization has control over every corner of this place.

The Scales are not to be trifled with, and the entire apartment complex is one big cover for their many operations. To disturb their gambling den, to quarrel with the criminals taking refuge in the abandoned buildings, to even acknowledge the human trafficking—it's like swatting at a hornet's nest, and anyone foolish enough to do that would be either chased out of the city or killed, if not both.

They're disgusting, the lot of them, but they're here to stay. She hears the muffled cries of pain from under her feet as she crosses over the most isolated rooms, and she ignores them. Everyone in a position like that has done something to deserve it. Consequences come with every mistake, and it's only natural to suffer when failure knocks on one's door. With the hand Carmine's been dealt, she can't afford to fail any more than she has, and she certainly can't afford to reach out and attempt to be some hero for all the other slaves running around the capital. That's what the knights are for—or what they're supposed to be for, if they weren't a band of corrupt fools.

Keeping her eye on the yellow light, she spots Sunny take a sudden right turn. Carmine scans the wall ahead and maintains her sprint. She flings herself forward in an arc, flipping her whole body upside down. There's a flag pole that's jammed into the side of the building, and she catches it with her feet, pinning the pole between the shoes and her shins.

The pole creaks loudly at the sudden tension, Carmine pulling it at a deliberate angle with her whole body weight. The tension snaps back, flinging her in the direction Sunny turned toward. Flipping her body right-side up as she cuts through the air, she spots the yellow light coming to a stop up ahead. Carmine lands right behind Sunny and dives into a roll to minimize any whiplash.

She stops there afterward, frozen in place. For a moment, it's like she's on a stage again—waiting for the audience to cheer before she moves into her next position.

Carmine looks up to see the armor-clad swordsman giving her a silent round of applause. With how she landed, she guesses it looked like she rolled right into a kneeling bow. Even after all this time, Sunny's never lost their love for theatrics. She exhales through her crooked nose, and her mind touches upon old memories. What Carmine would have given to have boots like these when she was young.

What Carmine did give to perform.

She banishes the thought, and looks to see Sunny's their neutral white color again. Carmine stands and whispers, "Cloak me," before peeking her head over the edge of the roof. Looking down, she finds—

"This one must be Otto-san's," Hetaro says, gesturing to the unattended wagon parked in the far corner of the market.

"It's rather out of the way, don'tcha think?" Tivey asks, raising a brow.

"Maybe Otto-san was gettin' tired! So he closed up shop early for the day! See how badly he needed this nap?" Mimi says, practically jumping in place. Carmine notes that she needs to up the dosage next time. If she gets a next time.

"The boss lady would never settle affairs so early," Tivey replies, shaking his head. He turns to Hetaro. "When did ya run into him, big bro? I somewhat lost track of time when…" Tivey trails off.

"It wasn't even Water Time," Hetaro notes, looking up and around, likely for a time tower. His gaze passes right through where Carmine's observing from. Sunny's doing good work as usual.

The triplets stop talking and look at the wagon. The ground dragon that was laying there stands up and begins growling at them. Of course the bastard would have one as ill-tempered as him.

"Whoa!" Mimi says, stepping in front of her brothers with Otto on her back. "Don'tcha worry, we're just here to return Otto-san, see?" She grabs him by the back of his head and raises it up while still unconscious, as though he were a puppet. Or some kind of life-sized toy.

The ground dragon growls louder, taking a step toward Mimi. Guess it's equally fitting that his dragon would be so arrogant. Even animals can tell at a glance when someone's in a different league of strength from them. It usually takes a protective instinct to rouse this kind of anger.

Carmine thinks of the raccoon. So then how—

Hetaro walks forward to stand beside his sister. "My apologies, ground dragon-san. Otto-san helped me save big sis and Tivey, and got himself hurt in the process. Could we leave him in yer care?"

Tivey adjusts his monocle. That seems to be a recurring habit of his. "Ground dragons ain't quite like ligers, Hetaro. They're proud creatures, and don't typically listen to reason."

To the surprise of them all, the ground dragon stops growling. It gestures with its head to its side, but never takes its eyes off of Mimi.

Approaching slowly—slowly for someone as energetic as Mimi, that is—she hoists Otto off her shoulders and tosses him onto the ground next to the dragon. It swipes its tail at her, but she easily ducks out of the way and backs up. Carmine supposes it's because Mimi was handling that dipshit merchant like he was a sack of tatoes.

Hetaro speaks to the ground dragon once again as Mimi rejoins her siblings. "Thank ya for yer help. We hafta be goin' now, but we'll be back to offer Otto-san our thanks when he wakes up."

"If he hasn't skipped town by then," Tivey adds, smart enough to see how unreliable the likes of traveling merchants are.

"Do ya think he'll swim away?" Mimi questions, and the thought of Sunny's earlier otter joke threatens to raise the edge of Carmine's lips.

Tivey and Hetaro both sigh, and all three give a curt, undeserved bow to the dragon and the merchant, before turning and walking off.

Sunny floats next to Carmine, blinking yellow. "No, not yet, Sunny," she says, eyes fixed on the sight below. "One second."

Carmine watches as the ground dragon huffs and lays back down. It—she pulls Otto close with her tail, putting him in a more comfortable sleeping position. It's almost like she's… cuddling him.

"Ground dragons can be considerate like that?" Carmine mutters, unsure what to make of the sight. She stares for a few more seconds, before turning to Sunny.

She sees the swordsman again, this time with a small plush doll version of both the figures below in their hands. Sunny puts the two of them together, the armor flashing red as the not-objects connect. The swordsman lifts their head and looks directly at Carmine.

"I…" Carmine starts, "I don't think that's possible, Sunny." She furrows her brow, but decides she doesn't have time for this. She sighs, shaking her head. The swordsman vanishes, and Sunny returns to being an orb of white light.
"Alright, now we follow," Carmine announces. She gives Sunny another salute, just like old times. "Sunny, lead the way."

The spirit flashes red before turning yellow and flying off. Carmine follows after Sunny, as always, and this time, she hopes Sunny will guide her to the Pearlbatons' captain. She can't defeat the triplets in a three on one fight, but if Ricardo Welkin is as prone to fits of drinking as the Pearlbatons claim, perhaps she can catch him off guard.

Carmine comes to a brief stop. She can't afford to let that damn merchant get in the way again, but she still lets herself glance at him and his ground dragon, one last time. She sees—no, she thinks she sees the merchant cuddle into his dragon, the two of them curled into each other.

She looks away. There are more important things to focus on.

That was just a trick of the light.

AN:

suffaru: FOR A WHOLE FUCKING YEARR I GET PURPLE IN MY DMS PURPLE IN MY DISCORD VCS GOING HEY WOULDNT IT BE FUCKED UP IF *MOST TEETH GRITTING WALL JUMPING AGONY INDUCING PLOTPOINT YOUVE EVER HEARD* I WAKE UP AND PURPLE ESSAY IN MY DMS I GO TO CLASS I OPEN MY PHONE PURPLE ESSAY IN MY DMS I GET BACK HOME FROM SCHOOL PURPLE ESSAY JUMPSCARE YOU KNOW PURPLE WAS MY FAVORITE COLOR BEFORE THECOLOURPURPLE DISCORD HAS SPENT MONTHSSSS BREATHING DOWN MY NECK LIKE THE WORLDS MOST PERSISTENT ENGLISH TEACHER WE SCHEDULE MEETINGS PLANNING OUT THE FIC HE MAKES THE MOST BATSHIT THING IVE EVER HEARD ON THE SPOT AND THEN I GO BACK INTO MY DUMB REZERO INNER CIRCLES AND PRETEND IT NEVER HAPPENED THIS HAS BEEN A SECRET FOR A YEARRRRRR ALJSDLFSDFLSDLFLDFLD

purple: ch2 next week