A Family of Her Own

The Yagamis died the same night that the storms came.

Storms. Consider that concept. To many reading this, storms are mere inconveniences, a time when things get wet, dark, and cold. When one is on its way, we go inside, close the doors, shut the windows, maybe bring a few valuable possessions and fix up the odd leak, and just wait. It could even be exciting, a fun break in the normally calm weather. And when they are over, we go outside, clean up the mess, and go on with our lives.

Even in a wild land such as Gensokyo, where civilization is a luxury rather than a standard, there are places where storms aren't much more than a time throw up the protection charms, get everyone inside, and keep themselves entertained until the cacophony had passed. Sure, there was danger and damage, but they were temporary problems, not life-changing disasters.

To all of the above, I say this: try living in Wilds sometime. Try keeping your family alive as torrents of rain thick as a waterfall come gushing out of the skies, as blasts of wind powerful enough to throw a full-grown man off his feet rip through the countryside, as lightning rips down from above to strike anything foolish enough to poke its head up, as hillsides collapse, as rivers turn into raging floods, as cellars are swamped and food stores ruined and roofs destroyed and walls pulverized. Out there, far from the safety of the Human Village, the Youkai Mountain, or any other pockets of stability, storms are far from troubling changes in the weather. Whipped up by the untamed country's natural magics, the storms of Gensokyo are monsters to be feared and respected, and no amount of preparation can guarantee your safety.

But the worst of it wasn't even the storms themselves. Those were dangers, yes, sometimes even lethally so, but the worst of it were the darker sorts of youkai, the savage sort that kept travelers close to the paths in large groups to avoid. That sort was bad enough, but something about the stormy season whipped them up into a frenzy, and then no one, not even other youkai, were safe.

As such, as soon as the skies started to turn gray and those sensitive to such things felt an all-too-familiar tingle, the call went out. All across the Wilds farmers, loggers, hunters, travelers, and anyone else who lived out there gathered their families together and made for the shelter provided by great halls of the villages and hamlets.

By the time the first of the rains started to fall, the great hall of Three Springs Village was already packed. From his place by the door, Elder Suzuki surveyed the place. Everyone in the village itself was already there, as were most of the inhabitants of the local farmsteads. The children of the Aoki Yume Children's Home and their caretakers were of course all there, having been among the first to be brought over. A few new faces were there as well, mostly travelers and the occasional magician. There were even a few youkai there as well, mostly low-power fairies and other spirits known to be friendly to the village. They were also welcome. After all, the storms threatened them as well.

However, it wasn't everyone. Elder Suzuki was halfway through his sixties, and he had seen many a stormy season come and go. As such, he knew the name of everyone that ought to have been there. And there were still three families missing: the Momoes, the Yagamis, and the Naitos. A team of the village's strongest was out there, sent to find them and bring them to safety, along with any other stragglers they might find. Elder Suzuki prayed for their safety as well.

Despite how crowded the place was, it was eerily quiet. Oh sure, people were talking, eating, and even laughing, but it was mostly in hushed voices, and any laughter died quickly. Everyone seemed to be on edge, listening for the first sign of an approaching youkai gang. Tensions were high, and occasionally an argument would break out, though it was always quickly diffused by the others before it could become a fight.

As for Elder Suzuki, he remained sitting right where he was by the door, all of his senses extended, and what magic he knew was focused on the ring of warning charms set up around the village. The moment anyone set foot past the border, be it Human or otherwise, he would know. That was the worst of it, waiting for that signal, not knowing if when the alarm was sounded, it was going to be their friends or something else.

Silvia, one of the women, walked up to him with a steaming bowl of hot onion soup and a cup of water. He would have preferred wine, but he needed to keep his head clear, so he just accepted them with a nod of thanks.

"Has there been any sign?" she asked as he blew onto the steaming broth.

"Not yet," he said.

Silvia bit her lower lip. She had friends out there, he knew. She had worked on the Momoes' farm while growing up, and her husband's brother was part of the team that had been sent to seek them out.

Sighing, he reached over and gently took her hand. "They'll be fine," he said. "Hiromu's leading the team, and he's the most capable man I know. If anyone can bring them home, it's him."

"I know," she said. "It's just-"

Then Elder Suzuki went stiff. The low tingle on the back of his neck had suddenly flared up. Someone had just crossed over the border, setting off the alarm charms.

Then another one did.

Then another.

And another.

Seeing the look in his eyes, Silvia spun around, stuck her fingers in his mouth, and whistled shrilly. What little noise there was silence immediately, and everyone turned to see her gesturing for everyone to remain silent.

His heart pounding, Elder Suzuki extended his senses, trying to get some hint of who was coming. Normally the charms themselves would tell him, but in that rain it was all they could do just to send any kind of signal. Whoever it was, there was a lot of them and they were heading for the great hall.

Then, through the door and through the rain, Elder Suzuki heard voices. Human voices.

"It's us!" called a familiar voice, followed by a heavy knocking at the large door.

Elder Suzuki felt some small relief, but didn't allow himself to relax just yet. He got up, opened the small panel in the door, and peered out.

Then he finally let out the breath he was holding. "It's them!" he called. "Open the door!"

The locks were undone and the heavy door creaked open. A blast of wind roared inside, and heavy rain pelted at anyone standing anywhere near the door.

In they came, eight men escorting a miserable gaggle of men, women, children, and even five more fairies and a couple of other youkai as well. As the young men helped them inside, Elder Suzuki quickly scanned the group, checking off names from the list in his head. To his further relief, the entire team had made it back. He also saw the entire Momoe family there, as well as the rest of their household. Silvia rushed forward to embrace them as her husband ran over to greet his brother.

The Naitos were there as well, which was very good news. They were hunters and furriers that lived far from the village and had little in the way of defenses. Of all those threatened by the storm, they would have been among the most vulnerable.

"Elder Suzuki!" called the young man leading the group. Though his features were covered by the thick hood of his heavy coat, Elder Suzuki recognized him immediately.

"Hiromu," he said, placing a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Well done."

Behind them, the last of the stragglers was brought inside, and the doors closed with a heavy thud, exiling the storm outside. As the other watchers bolted and locked up, Elder Suzuki looked over the group again. "Did you find them all?" he asked. "I don't see the Yagamis."

Hiromu pulled the hood off, revealing a mustached face that was very wet and very tired. "No," he said. "I found everyone I could, but…"

Elder Suzuki's heart fell. It was as he feared then. "Come," he said, hoping to get all the details before anything grisly was let slip. "Warm yourself by the fire."

As the group dispersed to their families, Elder Suzuki and Hiromu walked over to where the other elders were sitting around a blazing fire pit. Someone gave Hiromu a cup of warm wine, which he accepted with a grateful nod and practically collapsed as he sat down.

"What happened?" Elder Suzuki said after Hiromu finished draining the cup.

Hiromu set the cup aside and wiped his mouth with his arm. "It was bad," he said. "The Yagamis' farm was the furthest out, so we had to go there last. But it wouldn't have mattered. A youkai gang had hit it before we even set out."

A small murmur of dismay went up from the group. Elder Suzuki closed his eyes and whispered a prayer for the souls of their friends.

Hiromu continued. "It was a slaughter. I saw old Junko split in half. The farmhands had all been ripped to pieces, same as Rocco. It looked like they had been trying to defend the place. And the girls-"

"That's enough," Elder Suzuki said hastily. He already had enough mental images of people he knew being murdered and defiled. "We don't need to know that."

"Of course. I apologize."

"No need. There were no survivors then?"

Then Hiromu smiled, showing those white teeth that had helped made him a favorite of the young women of the village. "Well now, I wouldn't say that." He leaned back and craned his neck to look over to one of the men that had been part of his rescue party. "Watanabe! Bring her over here."

Watanabe walked over to them. It was then that Elder Suzuki noticed the small bundle wrapped in blankets held in the man's arms.

Elder Suzuki's brow rose. "Really?" he said.

Watanabe nodded and smiled. He pulled aside the blankets, revealing the small, chubby face of a sleeping infant girl, one only a couple months old.

She had her mother's straw-blonde hair and her father's round little nose. Though he had seen many a marriage in his time, Elder Suzuki still remembered the day that the child's parents were wed. Rocco Yagami had been so nervous that he nearly repeated the same line of his vows no fewer than three times before Elder Suzuki had gently reminded him of the next part. Not that Miho, his bride, had done much better. She had been so lightheaded that she almost had walked right past her groom and right into the wall. She had claimed that it had been the fault of the veil. But when the two of them had been joined in the eyes of their family, of their friends, of their ancestors, of the sky, and of the gods, they looked so radiant together that their earlier missteps had not mattered in the slightest.

And when they had welcomed their first daughter into the world, it had been difficult to imagine couple that had been more happy or more proud.

Elder Suzuki had seen so much death in his years, so many friends gone, so many fine people taken before their time. The Wilds were hard, often cruel, and even if one escaped becoming a snack for the youkai or evil spirits, then there were several dozen other ways to die, from disease to disaster. It was always hardest when it happened to children, while was far too often the case, especially when man-eating youkai were involved. They took children. They preferred children, and there was quite often little left to be found.

The Yagamis and their household were all good people, and they would be mourned. Still, Elder Suzuki knew what a miracle it was that even one had survived, much less their youngest.

"How?" he said.

"Their safe room," Hiromu answered. "They had it made special, hidden beneath the barn. Would've passed right by it, but as it turns out, Watanabe here helped them build it." He clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Did a damned good job of it too, thing was so hard to find. Found her tucked away down there, fast asleep."

Watanabe smiled proudly, though it didn't last long. He had been Rocco's friend after all.

"Amazing," Elder Suzuki said, shaking his head. "Though I wonder why no one was down there with her."

"Who knows?" Hiromu said with a shrug. "The dead keep their secrets, and keep them well. I'm just glad we found her."

"I remember right after she was born," Watanabe said sadly. "Rocco was in the tavern, and he was just so happy, buying drinks for everyone and singing songs. I said to him, 'Rocco, you've got four now, and they're all girls! When will you make a proper heir?' You know what he did? He looked at me like I was crazy and said, 'Let me tell you something: when my girls grow up, they'll be able to whip any boys in the village hollow. Guarantee it. I don't need no boys when I have them.'" He shook his head and sighed. "Gods, the poor bastard."

Elder Suzuki laid a hand on his shoulder. "He would rejoice, knowing that even one escaped alive."

"I know. But still…"

It was then that the tiny bundle in the stocky man's arms starting to stir. The girl blinked her brown eyes. Then her face contorted and she started to cry.

"Oh," Watanabe said, looking alarmed. "I, ah, don't really know what to-"

Turning to the rest of the crowd, Elder Suzuki raised his voice. "Satoko!" he called over to a small group of adults surrounded by children. "Satoko Yume!"

The middle-aged woman in charge of the Aoki Yume's Children's Home looked up in surprise.

Elder Suzuki crooked a finger, beckoning her over.

Still bewildered, Satoko gently set down the young boy she had been holding and made her way over to Elder Suzuki and the others. "What's wrong?" she said when she neared.

In answer, Watanabe showed her the fussing girl in her arms.

"Oh!" Satoko said in realization. "Oh, the poor thing. She's all alone, isn't she?"

"Only survivor of a youkai attack," Hiromu told her as Watanabe passed the child over. "Whole family gone."

"It was the Yagamis," Elder Suzuki said. "They had a farm, far out in the Wilds. Apparently they got hit before the storms even started."

To this, Satoko bowed her head. "The good spirits guide them safely across the River Suzune."

"Agreed," Elder Suzuki said. "Her name is Rumia. You…will look after her, won't you?"

"Of course I will!" She sat down and started rocking Rumia back and forth, shushing her soothingly. "That's what I do, after all. Rumia is more than welcome-"

"Is that a baby?"

The new voice was loud, childish, and obnoxious. Everyone looked up to see a small blue-haired fairy with six crystalline wings rushing toward them.

Most of their group scowled, no doubt partially because of the rude interruption but also because none of them were feeling particularly friendly toward youkai of any kind. Elder Suzuki was much more tolerant of their magical neighbors, so long as they were of the benign variety, but even he wasn't exactly in the mood to put up with their nonsense.

Heedless of this, the fairy shoved herself practically into the flustered Satoko's lap, trying to see the child. "C'mon, let me see!"

"All right, no," Hiromu said, getting up. He seized the fairly by the arm and roughly yanked her away.

"Hey!" she said, whirling to face him. Planting her hands on her hips, she thrust her lip out and scowled. "Don't touch me, or I'll freeze your arm off!"

"Try it," Hiromu warned. "Try it, and I'll-"

Elder Suzuki cleared his throat, drawing both of their attention. "The child is scared and tired and needs her rest," he said to the fairy. "So it's best to leave her alone."

The fairy's scowl deepened. "But I wanna see the baby!" she whined.

"Didn't you hear him? Leave the poor thing alone!" Hiromu waved the fairy off. "Go on. Get!"

The fairy gave him one last glower. She stuck out her little pink tongue and pulled down one eyelid with her finger before turning to run off back to her friends.

"Obnoxious little nuisance," Hiromu growled as everyone settled back down. "Why do we even let them in?"

"Nuisances they might be, but even they deserve protection from the storms and what the storm brings," Elder Suzuki told him, his tone gently chiding.

Hiromu sighed. "Fair," he admitted.

That done, Elder Suzuki turned his attention back to the squirming bundle in Satoko's arms. She was rocking little Rumia back and forth, whispering to her in soothing tones.

Elder Suzuki shook his head. The poor Yagamis. They did not deserve what had happened to them; no one did. It was just one of the many dangers that they had to accept living out in the Wilds like they did, but it never made it easier when it happened.

As for Rumia, the fates had done her a cruel turn, but at the very least she was alive and would be cared for and loved. Satoko was a good woman, who cared deeply for the children that had been brought into her house.

Then he cast a dour glance, not at anyone within the hall, but to the northwest, where sat the Human Village, the center of Gensokyo's Human population.

Satoko was a good woman, and those she cared for were innocents in need of all the support and protection that could be provided.

Unfortunately, not everyone agreed.

…

Twelve years later…

This was torture.

Rumia felt the yawn forming and didn't even try to stifle it. What was the point? Everyone else was ending toward sleep, lulled off by the warm Sun and Ms. Haruna's droning voice.

Ms. Haruna Ishii looked like a boulder. She stood about a meter and a half high, was nearly as wide as she was tall, had no neck, and a face like a pit bull's. No one knew her age, and no one had ever mustered up the courage to ask. And while she certainly knew a lot about numbers and what one might do with them, she had never bothered to figure out a way to pass that knowledge in a way that didn't immediately make Rumia's eyes start to cross and her brain to shut off all non-critical functions purely out of self-defense.

To help keep herself awake, Rumia looked around the room, hoping to find something interesting to amuse herself.

Unfortunately, all she found were more kids looking as bored as she was.

Fat Keiichi Matsuda was scribbling something on his chalkboard that probably had nothing to do with numbers. Loopy Kana Anaberal, who was usually at least interesting to watch, wasn't doing anything weirder than follow dust motes in sunbeams with her eyes. Even Rumia's mortal enemy Haruko was of one mind with Rumia in that she was struggling mightily to keep her eyes open. The only one that seemed to be paying any sort of significant attention was that outsider girl Melissa Garcia, and that was probably because she honestly didn't speak great Japanese and was trying to just make sense of anything she was hearing.

Rumia sighed. If the other kids couldn't be counted on to be entertaining, them what good were they?

Then she turned her head to look over to the opposite side of the classroom, where her two closest friends were sitting, one right in the front of the other. The one in the front was Kohta Momoi, a boy her age with naturally spiky black hair and eyelids so narrow that it often difficult to tell if they were open or closed, a quirk that he often exploited to his advantage, as he was now. Kohta sat with his back leaning against the chair at a slight angle, face directed toward the blackboard, and hands folded on the desk in front of him. At a glance it would appear that he was paying rapt attention, but he was in fact fast asleep, having long figured out the perfect pose to let his body settle into without giving away the game. Rumia deeply envied him for that.

Behind him was a girl who did not share his skills or natural advantages and was struggling mightily to keep from nodding off. Though she was of the same age as Rumia and Kohta, she looked to be only about half that, with a scrawny little body and shimmering silver hair cut straight just below her ears. Keine Kamishirasawa had been at the orphanage as long as Rumia and Kohta, but she didn't complete their trio until a few years ago, when the two of them had caught a few of the others bullying her and had driven them off. While neither of them were averse to killing a few idle minutes by tormenting some of their fellow orphans, they preferred to save that sort of thing to those who really deserved it and could at least fight back. Picking on someone just because they were smaller than everyone else and looked kind of weird was just unsportsmanlike. After that, Keine stuck around with them for safety, and before they knew it their duo had grown by one.

Rumia eyed the two, calculations running in her mind. Getting their attention without attracting Ms. Ishii's attention was going to be tricky, as a few unfortunate failed past attempts had taught her. At the moment Ms. Ishii was facing the kids as she droned on and on, but sooner or later she would turn around. To prepare, Rumia scribbled a brief message on a piece of paper. Then she stealthily tore up a second paper into pieces and crumpled them up. That done, she waited.

Oblivious to the conspiracy that was hatching right under her nose, Ms. Ishii went on and on about stuff that nobody cared about. Rumia tensed up. Any second now. Come on, any second now.

Then Ms. Ishii turned her back to the class to write something boring on the chalkboard. Now!

Rumia tossed one of the paper wads right at Keine. It had to be Keine. There was no guarantee that she would be able to wake Kohta with that alone, and even if she did, if he awoke too abruptly it might catch Ms. Ishii's attention, as they had learned on one unfortunate occasion.

Unfortunately, her first toss failed to clear the classroom and hit the floor right next to Keine's chair without her so much as noticing.

Scowling, Rumia tried again. This time her aim was true and the wad landed neatly on Keine's desk. Startled, the silver-haired girl jerked back to full wakefulness and blinked down at the new addition to the clutter on her desk. Then, putting two and two together, she glanced over to Rumia, one eyebrow quirked in askance.

In answer, Rumia held up her chalkboard. On it was just a quick sketch of a chocolate chip cookie and a question mark.

Eyes widening in realization, Keine quickly glanced back to Ms. Ishii to see if she was going to look their way anytime soon. When it was clear that she wasn't, Keine looked back to Rumia, smiled, and gave a quick nod.

Okay, that was two of them. Number three would be up to Keine. She slowly reached up and gently shook Kohta's shoulder, which they had learned was the best way to wake him without scaring him. It wouldn't do to have him cry out in surprise, after all.

Kohta jerked slightly, but made no sound. He glanced over his shoulder at Keine, who then directed his attention to Rumia. Within the space of three seconds, Kohta had scanned the message, comprehended it, and gave Rumia a sly grin and a quick thumb's up. All right, three for three. The game was set.

Then Ms. Ishii turned toward them again, and they quickly snapped back to their original positions, all traces of their plan removed. Rumia was satisfied. Their path was now set, and all she had to do was wait those last few minutes in order to carry things out.

…

Night was falling on the orphanage. Classes were done, sunlight was retreating, and the belabored staff were all taking a few much-needed moments to relax.

In other words, the perfect time to strike.

Three small figures crept down the hall on hands and knees, careful to avoid any boards that creaked, shoes off and socks covering both their hands and feet. Ahead of them, the door to the kitchen was slightly open, and from within a low, repetitive sound could be heard.

Slice. Slice. Slice.

The three of them lined up along the crack of the door, Kohta on the bottom, Rumia on his back, and Keine on hers. The three of them peered in.

The Children's Home kitchen was a long, rectangular brick room, lined with counters. A wooden table sat in the middle of it like an island, and on the right-hand side were windows to the outside, right over the sink. The evening meal was being prepared, and all sorts of ingredients were out. A young woman stood at one of the counter, methodically slicing onions with a large knife.

Slice. Slice. Slice.

The three children exchanged grim looks. Their path was a dangerous one, but rewarding. On top of a shelf at the far end of the kitchen sat a large ceramic jar. And within that jar was their prize.

Cookies. Sweet, succulent cookies. A prize more than worth a little risk. They just had to get past the woman.

And…therein lay the problem.

Keine slid off of Rumia's back and Rumia off of Kohta's. The three of them retreated back from the door and huddled together. Nothing was said. Rumia merely nodded, and the other two scampered off down the hall, to the door to the outside.

Now alone, Rumia inched back to the door and watched. The others would do their part. All she had to do was wait.

Oblivious to the heist taking place right under her nose, the woman continued on, reducing leeks to pieces in slow, mechanical fashion.

Slice. Slice. Slice.

Rumia tensed up. Any second now, any second…

"WAAAAAAHHHH!"

Showtime.

The woman's head jerked up, and she abandoned what she was doing to rush over to the window. Throwing it open, she practically leaned her whole body out and called, "What happened?"

"Keine's hurt!" Kohta's voice called back. "She slipped on a rock and skinned her shin! Oh my gods, there's blood everywhere!"

The woman sighed. "Oh, for the love of-" She shook her head. "Hold on, I'm coming!" She flung open a cabinet, grabbed a bag of bandages and other treatments and shot outside. She didn't even bother with the door but instead leapt right through the window in one smooth, graceful motion.

Rumia's window of opportunity was now open, but it wouldn't be for long. She bolted into the room, scampering across the floor, under the table, and toward the far counter. Snatching up a three-legged stool, she propped it against the counter and climbed on top. Then she stood on her tiptoes and stretched up, reaching for the jar.

Almost there. I'm almost there. The jar was just out of reach. Stretching her legs even further, Rumia's fingers brushed the jar's edge.

Then a wooden spoon came whistling through the air and struck the back of her hand.

Crying out in pain and surprise, Rumia lost her balance and, to her horror, started to fall backward.

Time slowed. Rumia watched as the shelf and its maddeningly faraway treasure moved further and further away. Her gaze moved up to center on the ceiling, which was also drawing away. She was dimly aware of the impact that awaited her, and to her surprise she was not afraid.

Well, I guess this is it. Oh well. Everyone has to die sometime.

Then she stopped.

Rumia gasped out loud. She had stopped in a vertical position, at a perfect ninety-degree angle from the stool, her heels still on the edge of the stool top, with the rest of her body hovering in the air, unaffected by gravity.

I'm flying, she thought numbly. Holy cow, she was flying! She didn't need to take the class after all; she had figured it out all by herself!

A wealth of possibilities revealed itself to her mind. She could shoot through the sky, dipping and darting through the clouds. She could play with the fairies, chase birds, be unstoppable at tag, anything! She could hover on the ceiling, just out of sight, and drop whatever she wanted on whatever poor sap that wandered by! She could go wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted, and nobody would be able to-

Then Rumia became aware of something pressing against her back, and her joy evaporated. She was not flying after all. Quite the contrary, something was holding her up.

A sinking feeling started to form in her stomach, and her gaze went upward. Sure enough, there was a face glowering down at her, that of a woman with pale skin, dark red eyes, and silvery lavender hair that was almost white.

The woman smiled, and Rumia cringed. Oh crap.

Suddenly the hand set against her back suddenly yanked back, pulling Rumia off the chair. The woman held her up by the back of her collar, lifting the child up as easily as if Rumia were a stuffed animal.

It was then that Rumia saw that she was not alone. Both Kohta and Keine were also dangling by their collars in the woman's other hand. Kohta looked quite put out, probably annoyed that their perfect plan had failed so spectacularly, while Keine just had her head bowed in shame. Her knee was still dripping with the chicken blood they had smeared all over it for effect.

"Well, well, well," said Miss Fujiwara no Mokou, the orphanage's cook. "Look who it is. Really, guys? Really? This trick again? I mean, fool me once and all that. Did you really think you could pull it twice?"

Rumia sighed and slumped.

"And come on. Now? You're pulling this now, with flying lessons right around the corner? Can you really afford getting another strike? You know they'll just make you sit them out."

Rumia jerked in shock, and given the stricken looks on their faces her friends felt the same. Oh crap, they hadn't thought of that.

"So now I'm wondering if I should just turn you three in now. I mean, I'd hate to leave you all tethered to the ground for the rest of your lives while all your friends go soaring through the air, but rules are rules."

"It was me!" Kohta suddenly blurted out. "It was my idea, I talked them into it! So don't-"

"Yeah, no," Miss Mokou said flatly. "That's really noble of you and all, but give me a break. It doesn't matter which one of you gets the original idea, the other two are always down for anything. Seriously, it's like your minds are linked or something. Besides, aren't heists usually Rumia's thing?"

Still dangling in the air, Rumia crossed her arms and sulked.

"That's what I thought." Then Miss Mokou got a thoughtful look. "Still, kids will be kids, and making you sit out flying lessons seems a little harsh, so…"

The three waited with bated breath as Miss Mokou mulled over the situation. If one were to ask Rumia, the cook was taking her sweet time doing it too.

"Okay, how about this?" Miss Mokou said at last. "I won't turn you in, and exchange you three get dishes duty."

That was it? What a relief. Cleaning dishes wasn't any fun, but it was loads better than never getting to learn how to fly.

"For the rest of the week."

Oof. Ouch. Rumia grimaced. A whole week of scrubbing pots and bowls sounded like a nightmare. There were so many mouths to feed that the sink was often a disaster area by the end of the day. Sometimes it would take them hours to get through them all, and they always felt greasy disgusting when it was over.

Still…it was better than the alternative.

"Well?"

Rumia exchanged a look with her friends. They didn't seem anymore happy about it than she was, but after a moment they all nodded.

"Good to hear." Mokou abruptly dropped to the floor, which caused Keine to squeak with surprise. "Now shoo. Off with you."

As the three failed bandits retreated from the kitchen, Kohta muttered to the others, "We should have just left her in the snow."

"I heard that," Mokou called after them. "Just for that, you get the big pot."

"Nice job, lunkhead," Rumia whispered back as Kohta's face fell with dismay.