aiko's otter den

raise your weapon - Dusk threw away his past, his life, everything, to become a spy to preserve order. He’s now got to don the look of a family man and get a wife and child, all to prevent a war! Meanwhile, Bam is a beleaguered law secretary, struggling with identity. Miseng is a child looking to stop running. Hijinks will ensue. SxF au

Now with art by yole!

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Chapter 5

Khun doesn’t pace. He is a calm, collected psychologist, a field that no one studied and was therefore groundbreaking and strong. He was confident and focused and had faith,

Dusk did not panic in the face of an impasse.

He does, however, kick himself in the face internally for not keeping under control. It may be for the best, for this child, and for children. Maybe if he spread the word of the kinds of teachers and educators filling the ranks of such a prestigious academy would reach Karaka’s ears and he’d be curious enough to investigate, and then he could slip and Dusk would have him.

He can’t wait a year to do this again. There’s no guarantee that he’ll be able to find another wife and child, or a better disguise or even—

“They were rather insufferable, weren’t they?”

Bam’s voice cuts through the swirling thoughts holding Khun’s mind hostage. He’s holding Miseng now, who is melting down in low, broken sobs. He can’t tell what she’s saying through the fabric of the dress, likely ruining the pattern of light roses against dark black. Bam doesn’t seem to mind.

“Get a lot of insufferable folks like that in your line of work?” It takes everything he has to look away, to brace with his anger and not say the words battering at his throat. ‘The ones at mine,’ he grits out through his fury. “Usually get intimidated by my lab coat.”

Bam laughs, soft and dry. There’s something cold in it, like a frozen glass. “When I put Hatz in day care, I had many people asking me those kinds of things.”‘Don’t you miss your mum?’ ‘Wouldn’t you like to have a new daddy?’ Lines like that. “Bam rocks Miseng, whose sniffles are dying down.” They were very frustrating. Hatz was too young to remember them, and I was busy worrying about feeding us both. So I usually had to bite my tongue, or I’d have gotten into a lot of trouble. My family needed me, after all. This time was different, though. It’s good you stopped it when you did.”

His hands still as Miseng sniffles. “Sorry,” she croaks.

All his anger dies away as he looks at the two of them. It’s not their fault. It’s not even his. They’ll need to send a new agent, sure, fine, whatever, but there’s still something he can do to help in the situation with them, surely. There are exchange programs throughout the year and clearly she’s academically qualified enough that with enough studying, she could transfer in. This operation is delicate, he mustn’t forget that. He can’t be ridiculous and dooming himself now.

A wry grin smooths his face into something like clouds on a summer day. Khun lets out a long breath and moves over. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes the snot and tears from her face. “It’s not your fault,” he says, and makes sure it sounds as true as he feels it is. “Okay? That proctor was rude and hurt you.”

He hadn’t really considered the fate of Miseng’s birth parents. Considering how many aliases of hers that Isu had found over multiple orphanages, he’s assuming she hadn’t exactly had any. But maybe she just didn’t remember them. He’s not sure which is worse, to be honest.

“A school that focuses on emotionally bullying children and allows it to pass is not what my wife would have wanted. We’ll fulfill her wishes some other way.” Even if it means transfers or seeing or anything else.

Miseng hiccups. “Papa, I—”

“You’re not at fault for crying. Crying is good for you.” He musses her hair a little, ruining the carefully brushed bob. “And besides, we have no proof they didn’t pass us anyway, though I will want a written apology first.”

That is the truth he keeps in mind. They had walked out mid-interview, but the rest of the test results were still there. It was possible that Operation Strix wasn’t a complete wash, but regardless, they had performed admirably. They had nothing to complain about.

Her splotchy face and puffy eyes crinkle into a nervous smile. “Okay…”

“We’ll wait and see how things go for now. Let’s go have dinner and get some rest.”

Bam smiles. “How do you all feel about some pasta and rolls?”

Miseng cheers up a little more, and their journey home is a lot brighter.

---

The letter arrives on fancy letterhead and ink that has never smudged. Probably on a typewriter, Bam thinks. He’s only used one of those for work before and they take powerful hands. If it wasn’t for his regular use of knives, he’d probably have a lot more trouble.

Khun -Aguero, it’s very hard to remember, if only because his coworkers never ask about him so he doesn’t get the practice— stares at it like it has a bomb. How silly, bombs are too bulky for that.

Miseng stands on the chair. He gently nudges her down. She sits down with a huff. The thud of the chair clattering makes Khun shift. Then he slowly picks up the envelope.

It’s rather cute, if Bam is being honest. It’s nice to see a man that loves their wife so much to honor their memory like this—

No. Bam shakes his head. That’s not the point. Khun-sis being a good man and husband is irrelevant. This is only a favor for a favor.

Right. Right!

Miseng looks at him with her nose scrunching. He makes to wave her off, but then Khun unfolds the envelope. He swallows and pulls out the thicker paper. Is everything from this school needlessly expensive?

His thoughts must show on his face more than they should because both fake wife and child make a strange noise behind their hands. His mouth twists into a playful scowl as he unfolds it.

Seconds pass. He reads it again. And again. It falls from Khun’s hand and Bam snatches it like a cat batting a toy. Miseng climbs onto his lap, cautiously squinting at the letters. Then Bam’s expression brightens, and he squeezes Miseng into a hug. He’s careful, because otherwise he’ll squish her like he did Hatz as a kid. That wasn’t fun.

“You did it!” He calls, laughing at the delighted squeal that leaves her mouth. Relief washes off of Khun in waves. Miseng whoops and runs around the room, only staying upright through sheer force of will.

“We did it, we did it!” she cheers, rolling onto the sofa. But she pauses, looking over at Khun. “Papa?”

Bam turns to look at him. “Khun?” he says, slowly. It’s almost in complete unison. Khun absently notes it as cute, which is something to unpack for a later date.

Khun lets out a long breath. “Do you want to go, Miseng?”

Miseng shifts on the couch. “Go?”

“Knowing those staff are going to be looking after you,” Khun lets out a long exhale. “Do you want to go?”

Miseng sits there for a long minute. When he’d offered his strength, his life even, to Luslec back then, Bam had lost a lot of choices, even if they’d all tried to make it otherwise. He wonders if this feels the same way. Then she looks up at them both, dull brown eyes sparkling, and nods.

“Yeah,” she says. “I worked hard. I wanna go, I’ll show them.”

Khun’s worn, weary face breaks out into a smile. “Then I suppose we have something to celebrate.”

“I’ll start dinner,” Bam offers, to give father and daughter some time alone. He supposes they’ll have to tell his wife.

It stings a little, but he ignores it.

---

Miseng told her (fake) parents that she would be all right. And she’d meant it. She was a big kid at a big kid’s school now and they couldn’t protect her in there.

Deep down, she knows they really couldn’t have protected her in many places, since this whole thing, you know, wasn’t really real, but imagining that they could be is nice.

“Are you ready?” Daddy’s voice is soft and encouraging. She reminds herself to call him “mama” when people ask. If she says anything else, he could get hurt or in trouble or have to leave, and all of those are bad. All of those would mess up papa’s operation and he needed to save the world, so it’d be okay.

“Yep!” She adjusts her beret and steps onto the bus. There are so many kids, so many excited thoughts barreling through her brain. Miseng is used to this, and it won’t be for that long. It’s training, she tells herself, to use her power and take over the entire school and become a Princess! A few kids look at her, but not for long, their thoughts sliding in and out and fighting in her brain. It’s easier to ignore the background noise.

Once she finds a seat, Miseng scans the crowd one more time. She sees them, standing out against all the many heads. There are a lot of blue ones, but she can easily see papa’s hat! Daddy leans on papa like they’re really married. Like a proud parent in stories.

If she had a mom, would they have sent her to school like this?

From here she can hear papa’s brain exploding like all the buildings in her favorite cartoons. He really likes daddy. Not that she blames him.

She waves until a big exclamation mark pops up in their heads and they wave back, smaller.

Then the bus rolls away. Miseng faces the front. She’s ready.

---

Miseng is not ready.

Tuning out the general thoughts of everyone around here is a lot easier. The class isn’t that big, so that should be even easier.

However, she needs to make friends with Prince Jahad. What a dumb name. There aren’t princes anymore, only spies and assassins!

(She forgets a king rules this country.)

She finds him. He’s taller than her, everyone else here is (she’ll get taller, she knows it!), but he’s also surrounded by people. Papa’s brain has a picture of him and his super obvious purple hair and with his nose in the air. He’s all… smug! Ugh.

This is for world peace. It’s for world peace.

“He’s noisy.”

Miseng turns to her left and sees a girl with bright green eyes and cute red ribbons in her hair. She’s holding an octopus. Her words are strong, but she’s smiling. It’s like her daddy’s smile when he’s distracted. “Hi! I’m Verdi. You are beautiful like a doll.”

“Um.” This feels like a thing most kids don’t say. Adults don’t say it for sure and are good adults. Papa told her that. “I’m Miseng!”

She holds out her hand to shake and Verdi lets go of the octopus with one hand to shake it. “You have fun manners. Let’s be friends.” Her voice hasn’t changed at all. Is that normal?

Her thoughts are bouncy, Miseng thinks, each idea rattling around like a candy in a jar for attention. But maybe she just says weird things normally, and this is a thing! “Okay!” She wants a friend. Any allies against Prince will be great!

Then the room shifts a little. She watches Prince looking around. He’s still introducing himself. Is his dad that important? Maybe his dad’s that important to him. Maybe that means he thinks he should have more friends. There are a lot of words about connections and reputation in that head of his.

“What do your parents do?” Verdi asks. She kicks one foot and wiggles an octopus tentacle. “You came in on a bus, right? You don’t get to live at school or driven here? What’s it like? Is everyone loud on the bus?”

Yes, but that’s not bad. She’s used to it being loud. “It’s bouncy,” she says instead of that. “And everyone’s loud, but I like it.”

Someone scoffs. She turns to see Prince. He’s glowering, purple eyes bright. It doesn’t feel like he’s angry, like he’s supposed to be sick? He looks… weird. Like he’s gonna be sick or something.

“You like going on that smelly death trap?” He approaches, crosses his arms. It makes him look like he’s pouting. “Why?”

Miseng blinks. The bus isn’t a big deal… rich people are sensitive. “It’s not for long,” she says, staring at home. “And when I get home, mama will be there, and she’ll say hello and hug me. It’s great.” She makes sure not to mention how happy he looks at home with those clothes papa bought or how her daddy sits and waits for her to need help with things and how papa tests her regularly to make sure she doesn’t feel dumb in these halls where she, an orphan, doesn’t belong. How her papa wipes her tears and lets her rest but also believes, so fervently, that she can do it.

She doesn’t say that this place isn’t very scary until she’s there alone, and she wants to be home, even in the lies, because the feeling is nice.

“I like the bus!” Miseng tells him. “It means I can watch people outside!” And read their thoughts.

Prince scoffs. His uniform is the same as hers, Miseng thinks. Maybe bigger, because she’s smaller, but he’s missing a tooth and his sleeves flap. Like hers. “Commoners are so weird,” he says. Someone laughs behind him. “Who cares about the people outside? They don’t even know who you are.”

“So?” Why is he so rude? Weren’t rich people supposed to have manners?

“So,” Prince drawls, pulling himself up to his full height. (So dumb! She knows she’s tiny!) “Weird commoners shouldn’t be here. I don’t know why they let you in. You should go back on your dumb bus and go home now. We don’t have time for stuff like that. Your weird mommy can teach you!”

Someone laughs again.

Miseng… she doesn’t really hear it. She doesn’t get it. Why is he so mean? What’s his problem?

She takes a deep breath, preparing to crack his mind like one of papa’s eggs on the floor.

Then Prince says, “Why’s a freak like you here, anyway? Did the teachers feel sorry for you?”

Her own head cracks. It’s blank, like a piece of paper. She marches forward, in quick, soft little steps. Verdi opens her mouth and goes unheard. But blood roars in her ears and world peace flies out of her head.

Daddy had gently shown her how to make a fist. Thumb out, fingers curled just right. “I hope you don’t have to,” he’d said, warm and sad. “But with all the murders going on and with kids, well… anything can happen. Don’t start something you can’t finish, okay?”

Miseng marches and without a sound or even a thought, punches Prince Jahad in his stupid face. It’s hard enough that she can feel it, and strong enough it knocks his face to the side. He stumbles back with a shout and Miseng-she, it—

“I’m not a freak!” she shouts. “I’m not! And I’m not stupid! You’re stupid!”

She hates him. She hates Prince Jahad!

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