"You always have an answer ready," Lyra says, climbing the stairs with light steps. "I'll get some clothes for her. Hang tight, I'll take care of those cuts."
I lean back against the chair, letting out a heavy sigh. My gaze slides to the girl sitting beside me. The kitsune. She straightens up, subtly raising her ears — the right one trembles, as if catching something in the air.
Despite her empty pink eyes, I feel she's aware of my presence. Maybe it's my energy. Maybe just intuition. Kitsunes have that reputation — sensitive to human intentions, almost like they can sense thoughts. I admit I don't know much about them, just enough to understand you can't fool one.
The house still smells of alcohol, dried blood, and cleaning products. A strange contrast with her smooth skin and the sweet scent she gives off, like cherry blossoms after rain. She remains silent, eyes searching the void, but her body alert.
Lyra returns, carrying some bags hanging from her arms.
"Clothes?"
"Do you think I'm what, a decorative ornament?" she snaps, dropping the bags to the floor with a thud. She pulls out a simple pink hooded dress, clearly made to measure. It even has a small hole in the back. For the tail, I guess.
She throws me an impatient look.
"Turn around."
"You're going to stab me in the back, huh?"
"I should, but not today. I'm just going to dress her. Turn around already, smartass."
I give a half-smile and turn, even with the throbbing pain in my shoulders. I hear fabric being unfolded, a zipper, the soft rustle of something carefully being pulled over her small body. Even as a doctor, Lyra has an almost... human touch. Warm. Doesn't fit with the reputation of the Empress she serves.
But maybe not everything needs to make sense in this world.
"You can look now."
I turn slowly. The kitsune is now wearing the pink dress. She holds the fabric between her fingers, uncomfortable, shifting her shoulders as if still getting used to the feel of the cloth. But what catches my attention is the tail passing perfectly through the hole in the back, as if the dress was custom-made for her.
"Kitsune clothes?" I raise an eyebrow, curious.
"Of course. You think I'd bring a human dress for a mystical creature with a tail?"
She crosses her arms, proud of her choice. Then her sharp gaze falls on me.
"Now, care to explain where the hell your shirt went?"
"Ah… about that…" I run a hand through the back of my neck, embarrassed. "A crazy scientist wanted to confirm if I was human. Tore it off with the excitement of opening a Christmas present."
"Even I have my doubts, honestly," she replies, grabbing needle and thread from the first aid kit. "But if it bleeds... it's human enough."
"Yeah… I guess we can say that."
"Jacket." Lyra holds out her hand without hesitation, her clinical gaze already examining me before I sit down.
I mumble something unintelligible and take off the white jacket, tossing it on the nearest chair. Lyra doesn't wait a second — she pushes me firmly into the upholstery and adjusts my arm like it's a porcelain piece. Cold and efficient.
Her fingers press the skin around the wound.
"No bullet lodged. Grazed it... but deep enough to cause trouble," she comments as she already pushes the needle into the exposed flesh.
"Ugh… damn, warn me first, at least," I close my left eye, teeth clenched.
"You're alive, aren't you?" she retorts, not stopping her hands. "What did you find out there?"
"That..." I take a deep breath — "the races... are having their organs trafficked too."
She lifts her gaze for a second, her brown eyes shifting to the kitsune sitting next to us. She remains silent, her thin ears covered in black fur moving with every sound, catching everything, even without reacting.
"A whole black market in the shadow of the city…" Lyra whispers. "Weird. Good thing I brought her in one piece."
"Definitely," I murmur, watching the Kitsune, who now seems a bit more comfortable on the couch. Her tail slowly curls around her legs.
Lyra finishes the stitches, cuts the thread precisely, and moves to the other side, now examining the wound on my waist. Her fingertips touch the skin lightly, almost as if searching for something invisible.
"This one doesn't need stitches. It'll just be a little annoying."
"Thank God," I breathe a sigh of relief and lean forward to grab my jacket, putting it on carefully. The cold fabric brushes against the fresh bandages.
"No going out at night until this heals. Got it?"
"You're exaggerating. I wasn't even that deep this time."
"Sirius…" Lyra crosses her arms, her tone more serious now. "Can you go one day without clashing with the Empress?"
"She gave me a reason. I wasn't the one who went looking for trouble."
"She waited an entire day to sink her claws into all this." She rolls her eyes. "I can't believe I still get surprised by her…"
I approach slowly. The wooden floor creaks beneath my boots. The dim light in the room casts long shadows over the girl's face. Or rather… the Kitsune's.
I reach out and touch her hand — cold, small, hesitant. She lifts her face, trying to find my eyes, but her empty gaze just passes through the space. Even without seeing, she seems to feel every movement I make.
"Listen carefully," I say, my voice low and steady. "I'm going to take you to my place. You'll be safe there. And I… will take care of you."
She remains silent. But her fingers gently squeeze mine, saying more than words could.
Lyra crosses her arms nearby, her lab coat still stained with dried blood.
"And I'll come by every two days to check on you. To see how you're recovering," she says, her tone a mix of care and pragmatism. Her brown eyes soften for a moment as she looks at the Kitsune.
The girl slowly nods, as if processing everything. Then, carefully, she rises from the couch, leaning her weight on me. Her long gray tail slides slowly over the floor.
I place a firm hand on her waist while holding the bags in the other.
"Use the teleport," Lyra says, already walking ahead. "You don't want to be seen walking those streets with the Nix patrol around. Especially at this hour."
"Not in the mood to run into the Empress's dogs today," I murmur.
We descend together to the basement. The lights are dim, the steps damp and worn. I feel her tension with every step, her body light and trembling under my hand. When we arrive, the teleport circle glows faintly on the metal floor.
But something's wrong. Something that's been bothering me from the start.
I don't know her name.
I stop beside the circle and look at her. Her black hair falls over her shoulders, slightly messy, her ears moving, sensing the environment. I turn toward her, my voice softer now.
"Hey… what's your name?"
"She won't answer," Lyra says, leaning against the concrete wall. "She's lost her voice. Wait for it to come back first."
But before I can say anything, the Kitsune moves her lips. Slowly. Precisely. As if she had practiced it a thousand times in silence.
"Kiyomi."
Lyra and I exchange a glance.
"Kiyomi?" I repeat.
She nods, a subtle gesture. Good. Because calling her just "Kitsune" would sound like I adopted a pet, not saved a life.
I hold her hand tighter. She responds to the touch as if it were natural already.
"Activate teleport," I say.
The white light intensifies beneath our feet, wrapping our bodies in a soft, pulsing glow. For a second, everything dissolves: the pain, the tension, the smell of dried blood and alcohol in the air.
And then we disappear from Lyra's sight.
[…]
Morning light streams through the mansion's windows, tinting the hallways with pale golden hues. The cold floor creaks beneath my feet as I walk slowly toward her room. I stayed up late again. Not that it's news. But if I don't get up now, Aerolin will call and destroy what's left of my sacred sleep with that tone of hers—"orders disguised as kindness." Between being woken by an elf or getting up on my own, I choose the less painful option.
The bedroom door slides open with a soft metallic whisper. Kiyomi sits quietly on the edge of the bed. Her ears perk up at my footsteps. She turns her face toward me, guided only by sound.
"I'll make you something to eat," I say, voice low and almost dragging, reaching out my hand.
Her delicate fingers touch mine. She leans carefully, sliding her hand up my arm to rest on my shoulder. There's fragility in the gesture, but also something… firm. As if, even wounded, she refuses to seem helpless.
We walk down the hallway together in silence. The scent of coffee and waxed wood still lingers in the air from last night. When we reach the kitchen, I pull out a chair at the table—safer than the stool at the counter. With my luck, she'd fall, and I'd have to listen to Lyra calling me irresponsible.
"Hmm… I guess toast isn't a good idea for her throat, huh?" I murmur, more to myself than anyone else.
A holographic screen appears beside me with a soft beep. Translucent blue, thin as a blade of light.
"Aegis, call Lyra."
"Calling Lyra," replies the system's synthetic voice.
Kiyomi turns her face, clearly surprised by the source of the voice. She sniffs the air subtly, as if the sound had a scent.
Lyra's image appears on the screen—messy hair, half-closed eyes, looking like someone who definitely didn't expect to be awake at seven in the morning.
"It's nice to be important… to get a call from you at this hour, Sirius," she grumbles, crossing her arms while yawning.
I give a slight crooked smile, resting my elbow on the counter.
"Good morning to you too, doctor. I need to know what Kiyomi can eat. And before you curse me, no, I wasn't going to give her coffee and cookies. Not yet."
"Sirius…" Lyra sighs, rubbing her face, "just light stuff. Porridge, cut fruits, unsweetened tea. Nothing acidic, nothing crunchy, nothing that will scratch."
"So no bacon with pepper. Got it."
"And if she coughs or tries to talk, give her room temperature water, understood?"
I nod.
"Understood, ICU boss. Now go back to sleep."
"Screw you, Sirius."
The screen shuts off with a final beep.
I look at Kiyomi. She still seems fascinated by the technology, even without seeing anything. She moves her ears slightly, probably following my footsteps by sound.
I grab the kettle, start making tea, and prepare some fruit.
"Calm down, little fox. In ten minutes you'll be better fed than I've been in the last three days."
I quickly prepare the tea. The water still gives off that soft steam as I pour it into the cup. The fruits, cut into small pieces, rest on a white plate. All light, just like Lyra recommended. Nothing that would irritate her throat. Nothing to make her suffer more than she already has.
I set everything on the table. Kiyomi carefully reaches out and gropes until she finds the fork—but it slips from her fingers and falls. Almost falls. My reflexes act first; I catch the handle before it hits the floor.
"I'll take care of this," I murmur.
I spear a piece of peeled apple and calmly bring it to her mouth.
"Here. You can eat."
She hesitates for a second, then parts her lips. I give her space to set the pace herself. The apple disappears between her teeth with a gentle bite. No words. No sound. Just the calm breathing through her nose. There's a fragile peace in the air—as if any louder noise might shatter it.
I hold the cup and she touches my fingers, guiding my hand to her mouth. Her eyes remain closed as she sips the tea slowly. Each sip feels more like a survival ritual than a simple meal.
When she finishes, I quietly stand up, take the plate and cup, and head to the sink. Water runs between my fingers as I wash the dishes—hot, but not enough to bother me. Before I say anything, a holographic screen lights up to my right with a subtle incoming call sound. Lyra.
"I thought you'd gone back to bed," I comment, turning on the faucet.
Lyra appears on the other side, hair tied up messily, shirt crooked, with the face of someone awake only because the world's anger outweighs sleep.
"Since I was woken up like an emergency alarm, I took the chance to check the morning news," she rolls her eyes. "Turn it on."
"Aegis, turn on the television," I order, my hand still submerged in the sink foam.
The TV in the living room turns on, visible from the kitchen. Images fill the screen with a deep background music. The news ticker at the bottom hits like a punch in the stomach:
"Terrorist Kronos carries out new attack"
I give a crooked, almost amused smile.
"Nix could use better screenwriters. Every self-respecting dictatorship calls anyone who thinks differently a terrorist... even if the so-called 'terrorist' only took out half a dozen armed traffickers."
"She's going to make an official statement later," Lyra says, eyes fixed on me. "I suppose you're not going to give your childhood friend any attention, right?"
I sigh and rinse the plate.
"Childhood friend, huh?" I laugh dryly, without humor. "We bumped into each other a few times as teens. That's it. And honestly…" I narrow my eyes, "like I'm going to applaud a hologram dictator. I've got more important things to do. Like helping a blind girl find her way around a twenty-three-room house."
Lyra nods, serious now.
"Take good care of her, Sirius."
"Always." I hang up.
The image fades in the air with one last bluish glow. Silence returns to the kitchen.
I turn my head. Kiyomi is still sitting quietly at the table. Her hands rest on her lap, ears slightly tilted. It seems she heard everything, even if she didn't fully understand.
"It's okay," I say softly, almost a whisper. "As long as I'm around, no one's going to touch you."
She doesn't respond, but the way the tip of her ear moves… tells me she heard.