All children deserve parents...

(Chapter-specific trigger warnings:
- Underage drinking
- Dissociation (a child has just been strangled, what did you expect?)
A slightly more 'feel-good' chapter than the previous one, then.)

"Chyvon. That's your name, isn't it?"

Imel did her best to put on a soft voice, one that sounded welcoming enough to put the little boy in front of her at ease. It didn't seem to work, however, and the boy called Chyvon remained silent, his eyes riveted on some point in space. He seemed to find the table particularly interesting. Imel had fought to have his handcuffs removed, hoping that tongues would then be loosened, but this was far from the case. She couldn't blame the child, she was just in a bad mood. She had more important things to do.

She looked out of the interrogation room for a moment. She couldn't see the guards standing at the back, but she could almost feel their annoyance at the lack of progress. Nevertheless, she couldn't bring herself to swap places with one of the guards behind the glass, who didn't let her see anything. She knew only too well that they would have no patience, and certainly didn't want to imagine what would happen then.

"I just want you to know that we're here to help you, okay? I'm not going to hurt you." With that, she made a move to take his hand, but he pulled back.

With a sigh, Imel sat back in her chair. She'd never questioned a child before, and the experience wasn't the best, she had to admit. She tapped her nails on the table, before collecting herself, and looking at the boy.

"Would you like something to eat?"

Imel felt a sense of victory wash over her when she saw that the boy shook his head in denial. True, he hadn't spoken, but at least he was answering, in a way.

"Would you like to play a game, then?"

Chyvon's eyes lifted to hers.

Touché.

Imel had never lost in War before. The card game was relatively simple, and she had, one might say, insolent luck. And yet... The boy's luck was the rudest thing she'd ever seen. She even came to think that he had tampered with the cards, but the results were the same when she asked for another pack.

"Well... How about adding a little challenge?"

The boy had just finished amassing the cards when she began, and he simply nodded.

"If I win, I get to ask you a question, and you're obliged to answer. What about you? What do you want?"

Chyvon seemed to think for a moment, as he shuffled the cards. Lord, Imel had never seen a child that age shuffle cards like that. He looked as if he'd been doing it all his life - which had only just begun, technically.

"Same thing." He replied in a reedy voice, continuing his business.

Imel wasn't too keen on the idea itself, especially with the guards watching right behind. She hoped Chyvon didn't have any tendencies to poke around where she didn't want to reveal anything.

So, one game followed another. One after the other. She was reassured by the kind of questions Chyvon was asking.

"How old are you?"

"What's your favorite color?"

"Do you prefer dogs or cats?"

"What town are you from?"

"Is the capital as pretty as they say?"

And Imel felt decidedly more and more crushed by this child who never lost. It wasn't... realistic. Something was wrong.

So she asked to play a game of old maid. The rules were simple. Pair up cards until you ran out, which meant not having the joker in your hand. Luck was of the essence, but above all, Imel could pride herself on never letting anything show on her face.

Yet Chyvon didn't touch the joker once, as she had it in her hand. He didn't even look in its direction. It couldn't be... The kid wasn't human!

So, when only one card remained in Chyvon's hand, and two in Imel's, the young woman began to lose patience, which Chyvon watched. And she saw it, that brief moment when Chyvon changed course after their eyes met. So he drew the joker, and made a simple shuffle under the table so she wouldn't know where the card she needed to win was.

When he straightened up, elbows on the table, Imel grimaced. He wasn't giving anything away either, this boy, so it wasn't easy to deduce anything. And, as she directed her hand to the card on her left, he interrupted her.

"No, not that one."

She looked at him confused, and he didn't drop the matter. Even worse, he handed her the right card, placing the left one on the table.

"Here."

So Imel took it. The ace of clubs.

...

Lusamina waited patiently by the window. It was long past lunchtime, so she had already eaten. She'd even fed Ging, who confessed that he didn't really know where he could eat around here, except in the rocky ends of the country. Lusamina didn't know what he was talking about, so he told her all about what he'd seen in the mountains around the steaming porridge.

The little girl listened patiently, and even enjoyed this account of a world she knew all too little about. Her knowledge of the country was limited to Peijin and the surrounding towns, and perhaps to what she had seen on the news. That said, the news scared her sometimes, so she didn't dare go out too much. She'd stopped counting the number of times she'd seen on the evening programs that yet another person had been killed in a conflict of interests.

She was beginning to lose hope. Imel was nowhere in sight, and this simple fact depressed her to no end. It seemed that Ging, also sitting cross-legged in front of the TV, noticed this and asked her to come closer with a wave of his hand. She sat down next to him and watched in fascination as he fiddled with the cables to show her something other than Jol-ik's narcissistic propaganda, and instead colorful images in a language she didn't know.

"They're called cartoons." Ging explained in a low voice. "Normally, that's what kids watch. But then, kids here are a bit... Anyway."

Lusamina was mesmerized by what she was seeing. It was so absurd to see these animals in aggressive colors, grotesquely depicted, moving on two legs and singing, and talking, and...

And yet, she really liked what she saw. So she sat as usual, knees drawn up against her chest, as she watched the images evolve through nasally voices and surreal settings.

"Lulu, can I ask you a question?" Ging then asked, pulling Lusamina's attention away from the screen. "You don't have to answer... I mean, you won't answer, but- Your reaction will tell me everything."

He turned his head towards her, and waited for her to do the same.

"Why are you in Zetsu all the time?"

...

"Do you know if your mother was involved in anything concerning the Kakin Empire?"

Might as well get straight to the point. She wasn't sure she could win every time. However, surprise upon surprise decidedly, Chyvon raised his eyebrows.

"I don't know what the Kakin Empire is."

Then he picked up the cards to shuffle them again. Imel saw red, and grabbed the boy's wrist as he yelped in pain. She stood up abruptly, pulling him towards her, until both were standing, leaning over the table on which the cards were scattered.

"Are you shitting me? Say you're shitting me!"

Chyvon didn't know what to say. He didn't cry. He didn't start screaming, begging her to let go of him, no. His face closed completely, and he stared into space again. No matter how she shook him, tried to bring him back to her with the game, spoke to him in a low voice... No, he was gone. Except physically, there was nothing left of him.

Imel was ushered out of the room by the other guards, and kicked the first trash can she came across. It seemed everything was against her. She knew that no one would be able to get that kid to talk all day, so she still couldn't get home to see little Lusamina, who, by the way, must have been scared to death without her. The poor thing couldn't manage a day on her own, so spending the night without anyone?

Images, each more horrifying than the last, flashed before Imel's eyes. Trembling, she approached the nearest phone booth. She had to answer, she had to answer, she had to-

Tut... Tuuut... Tuuuuuut...

The number you have tried to reach is not available.

Huh?

Please try-

She dialed again, starting to nibble the skin of her thumb around the nail. She tapped her heel on the floor, and waited again. She wanted to hear the little 'hmm?' that was so characteristic of little Lusamina who had to answer, but couldn't quite physically.

The number you tried to reach is not available.

She gripped the phone with a strength that surprised even herself. But she only hurt her hand in the end.

...

"Yeah, you must have been awakened very early then, then."

Ging and Lusamina were lying on the roof of the building where the little girl lived with Imel.

"And for it to be this good, I'd say... What, when you were a year old? Maybe less. How old are you?"

She held up eight fingers, and he nodded gently.

"Definitely less, then."

Ging seemed thoughtful for a moment, before rolling over until he was settled on his side. He rested his head on his closed fist before scrutinizing Lusamina indecipherably. She responded with a simple, confused look at this very special attention, which didn't necessarily make her uncomfortable, but which didn't please her all the same.

"You live with someone here, yeah? The woman who tried to shoot me?"

Lusamina nodded slowly, waiting for him to continue.

"Would she know, mayhaps, where you were taught to have a Zetsu like that?"

Lusamina replied with a brief shrug. She didn't even know what it was herself, and Imel had never remarked on any Zetsu, or even on that Nen he kept talking about. He mumbled something about this 'damn generation of new users', then turned to her again.

"Well. I'm bored. I'm going for a walk, do you want to come?"

She nodded, once more, and they both stood up.

"That explains a lot, actually." Ging was talking more to himself than to her, as he jumped onto the neighboring building below. "When you consider that I didn't feel you coming that day."

Lusamina understood less and less what he was saying.

She didn't protest when he took her to those parts of town where Imel hadn't wanted her to set foot. After all, Ging was very strong, she could feel it, so why be afraid? The man behind the counter didn't bat an eyelid at the sight of the duo entering the tavern. He simply asked them what they wanted, before handing them each a pint of a liquid Lusamina didn't recognize. But it strongly resembled urine. She squinted at this mental image, and so couldn't hold back the surge of disgust when she saw Ging greedily drinking the contents of the imposing container. When he felt her gaze on him, however, he put down his glass - if you could call it that - and tilted his head to one side.

"Aren't you drinking? Beer won't eat you, you know..."

Lusamina looked at him falsely amused. She knew that. So she brought the container to her lips, and took a difficult sip, which stayed in her esophagus for a moment. The drink was bitter, thick and hard to swallow all at once. She blinked several times, feeling the surprisingly pleasant aftertaste that had remained on her tongue.

"So?" Ging asked with a tentative tilt of his head, a knowing smile plastered on his face.

She took another sip as an answer.