The drag contest? A weird joke, but fine. Any other year but this one, it was entirely voluntary right up to the day of, so that one got a pass.

But an actual beauty pageant? For teenage girls, with an audience of mostly guys? That was creepy. Again, it usually got a pass since it was voluntary, but a certain new teacher just had to get her hands on the controls. She cranked it all the way up from ‘off-putting’ to ‘what were you thinking?’

Not that most of the crowd complained.

“Man, we scored this year!”

“I know, right? Yukiko-chan and Risette? I think the universe is paying us all back for how sucky this year started!”

“Hey, quiet down! You really want Narukami to know you’re eyeing up his girlfriend?”

 Even if they weren’t vocal about doing so (and
setting aside that Rise wasn’t his girlfriend
), Yu knew. He knew without
actively
 trying to read the crowd. They acted like any other audience for the ‘Miss’ Pageant, but now that it was real women
who
 were coming to the stage, he felt like the sheer weight of their combined stares should have pressed its boards into wood pulp.

Sex sells. Plain and simple. He knew a few brokers who’d have all of Yasogami by their wallets in an hour if they had the chance.

Surprisingly, there were more than a few girls in the audience, too. It looked to be about a third, by Yu’s estimate. None of them were staring down the stage with the same slack-jawed demeanor as the guys, so he ruled
out the possibility of them being
 a gay crowd covertly expressing their orientation. What could they be hoping to get out of this? He tried to tune into a group of them talking nearby. They had the decency to whisper properly, but with a little effort, he could still make out what they were saying.

“You’re kidding, right? It’s not even a fair fight. Kashiwagi is going to get her butt handed back to her.”

“Yeah, but like, by who? Sure, Risette is popular and all, but Amagi is a local legend. You know, that stupid Amagi Challenge?”

Ah. That explained it. From the looks of things, Kashiwagi had earned a great deal of scorn. Rise was her main target, but any girl who had a mote of popularity was fair game for her ridicule. No one was going to openly call out a teacher, though. The next best thing? Watching her go up in smoke against the student body she tried to lord over.

Yu occupied himself with his idle observations and eavesdropping. Much could be learned if you were willing to drift into the background and listen. Parsing out the din of a hundred overlapping conversations wasn’t quite as relaxing as sinking in the babbling of a river, especially the Samegawa, but it beat letting his mind roam on memories best left buried.

“Say, wasn’t Shirogane signed up, too?”

 “Wait, what? The Detective Prince,
that
 Shirogane!?”

 Hmm. There was a new thread
from one of the women clusters
. Yu tilted his head just so. Enough to hear them more closely, but not so much as to make them suspect him.

 “
I heard someone put her name on the board, and Kashiwagi wouldn’t let her drop it.”

“Ugh, that’s horrible… But, she does have a mysterious charm to her. Think she could take the win?”

In the span of a sentence, their thoughts turned from empathy to examining it as another part of the act. Disgusting.

“Hmm… I don’t know. She hides so much under that big coat, and looking around, I think most of the votes here will be looking for a fuller figure.”

 “I guess so. She’ll
have
 to show what’s under that thing for the swimsuit part, though. She might surprise us.”

 That was when it became harder to hear them. Not because the chat ended, nor because they lowered their voices, but because the tapping of Kanji’s foot drowned them out. He was staring at the back of the next seat, his hands locked together over his mouth.
The look in his eyes was one of rabid anxiety.

“Just had to be a swimsuit part. Would’ve been fine if she could stay in her coat, but no, they’re making her do that shit.” He must’ve been overhearing them, too. Knowing Kanji, it was gnawing at him all day, and them talking about it in earshot made those thoughts even more ravenous. “What pinhead thought that was a good idea?”

Yu couldn’t do much to assuage Kanji’s worries directly, but he could probably help derail them for a few moments.

 “Hanako.” His voice was a puff of air, only holding his words long enough for himself and Kanji to hear them. “She and Kashiwagi talk a lot. I overheard them brainstorming ways to show up the others, and Hanako said that Rise might
use some fancy idol costumes to ‘trick,’ her words, the guys into thinking she’s pretty. It was a short jump from there to taking away the clothes advantage as much as possible.”

“...Yeah, that makes sense.” Kanji brought his thumbs up to massage the bridge of his nose. It was like his brain was having indigestion at the thought. “And, sure as shit, Kashiwagi couldn’t help herself when she realized she could make guys look at her in the next smallest thing to underwear.”

As quickly as the fires in him were stoked, they simmered down, leaving Kanji once more as a wildly crackling mess. In any other setting, Yu would have applauded him for not lingering on his anger to cope. Considering what he was stuck on instead, though, it wouldn’t have been the best timing. Maybe he could bring it up later, depending on how this went.

Any further need for distraction ended with the heavy clack of stage lights. Conversations sped up to finish their final thoughts, then died out.

From stage left, the announcer emerged, refreshed and ready to rumble. He left the goofy pink wig behind, letting his short, windswept hair breathe. He kept the sunglasses and bow tie, though, which was understandable. Those bright lights could do a number on the eyes, and the bow kept some heat off his neck. Maybe he skipped the wig specifically because it was getting too stuffy. Even with the pink streak gone, his voice still bounced with
pep
.

 “
Welcome back to the show, everyone! I hope you saved some energy, because now, it’s time for the Miss Yasogami Pageant!”

As the crowd went wild, Chie stared out from stage right. She knew how it must have looked when she stormed off for the dressing room with all that thunder, but now that she was actually at the show itself, her heels were quickly going cold.

“So… This is how it looked for those guys, huh? It, uh… It’s really something...”

 “
It’s okay, Chie. Focus on your breathing.” Rise was doing just that, honing in on the methodical rise and fall of her chest. Besides that, she was as cool as a summer breeze. “Remember what I showed you for the concert and you’ll be just fine.”

“This isn’t like the concert, though.” Even as Yukiko tried to follow Rise’s advice, she couldn’t help the unease welling up inside her. How her Shadow managed to flaunt for a camera before, she would never know. “Everyone there was having fun with us. Now, they’re the only ones having fun.”

“Butterflies in you stomach? What a shame.” Well, them and a few key others. Whenever Kashiwagi deigned her competition worthy of her attention, her gaze was always laced with bitter cruelty. She rarely shied from baring her fangs, but now, in the dark where no one else could see her, the real ugliness of her heart bloomed like bouquet of hemlock.

But then, you couldn’t have a bouquet with only one flower. Enter Hanako.

 “It’s no fun to beat someone that’s not even trying. Why not let them run away?
Then we wouldn’t have to wait so long to win.
”
Her own taunts were so funny to her that she went into a fit of mocking laughter, broken up by labored snorts for air.

That sound. That gasping, croaking sound set the hairs on the back of Chie’s neck to rise. She remembered all too well when that pig’s snoring kept her from sleeping. When she was driven so mad that she risked expulsion just to get away from it. Suddenly, whatever she was worried about went out the window. It was a whole lot easier for her to focus when she was pissed off.

“And before we forget, let’s welcome our guest judge for the evening, Mr. Teddie!” The announcer stepped aside, letting the winner of the last pageant take his rightful place.

 When he reached the stage, the real reason why the announcer wasn’t wearing that wig came to light. It was sitting proudly on top of Teddie’s head. He had even personalized it, moving the rose bro
o
ch from his shirt up to the side of his new afro, right where the pick would have been sticking out in
an old disco video. He was dancing the part as well, sliding on stage with his arms spinning around each other and his head bobbing. The crowd ate it up, cheering and laughing almost as much as when he won that spot in the first place.

 “Thank you all for the warm welcome! But, I’m sure we have something even
hotter
, right?”

 “That we do, my friends!”
The announcer pulled out a handful of cards, fanning himself off with them as he continued. “Yasogami is a land of beauties, and a handful of them have come here today to prove they’re the best of the best!”

Right. They ‘came’ here, Naoto thought to herself. Much like how lions and tigers ‘came’ to the zoo. She was glad she could disappear behind the dueling egos backstage, but how long would that last in front of a crowd? She could only hope.

Her hopes fizzled as the announcer began to read his list.

“First up is the mysterious transfer student, of the first-year’s class one, Miss…!”

 “
Hey!
”

 Naoto jumped from one shock to another as any and all pretense of civility fell from Kashiwagi like a musty coat. She glared from behind the curtain with murderous intent at the student who dared place someone ahead of her. He was paralyzed by her interjection, which was surely heard beyond the stage as well, but he was thrown back into gear when she tapped at her nonexistent watch. He cleared his throat, hastily shuffled through his cards, and began again. Much to Naoto’s relief, she saw her card had been relegated to the bottom of the deck.

 “
My bad, folks. What I meant to say was, our first contestant is, naturally, the very first brave beauty who answered our call...” Even spooked into compliance, that announcer tilted the show in his favor, albeit subtly. Kashiwagi couldn’t see the way he rolled his eyes from behind him, but the audience in front of him caught it loud and clear.

Kanji seemed to enjoy it, breaking out of his spiraling panic to crack a grin.

“That ain’t helping her vote, is it?”

Teddie ran to the other end of the stage, leaving one judge on each side.

“The terrific teacher here to tutor the tots thereafter…!”

And like that, Kanji lost his grin. In fact, he was downright bewildered.

“Senpai, when and why the Hell did you teach that bear sarcasm?”

“Wasn’t me.” Yu lifted his palms in surrender, a light chuckle breezing out with the claim. “He probably picked it up from Yosuke.”

“Kashiwagi-sensei!”

Oh, now that was interesting, Yu thought. Both of the judges said her name, but he noticed that Teddie only mouthed the honorific. He didn’t actually call her ‘sensei.’ Of course, Kashiwagi herself didn’t notice as she strutted to the stage, much to the tepid cheers of the audience. She must have filled in the missing clamor herself, as she didn’t drop her sexier-than-thou demeanor.

 “
Good afternoon, my dear students. Are you ready for a
special lesson
?”

The crowd’s response was superficially positive, but behind the polite clapping and the one-or-two people who actually liked her act, a few guys muttered what they really thought.

“Yep, just like having class with her.”

“She really thinks she knows what we like, doesn’t she?”

“You know, setting aside how she’s twice our age.”

“Eh, if it were only that...”

Any and all praise, no matter how watered down it was, got soaked up by the dry sponge of Kashiwagi’s heart. She basked under the stage lights as a sunflower, tilting her head back in a haughty laugh. Yukiko rolled her eyes, but Rise was using hers diligently.

“Hey, look, I can see her crow’s feet.”

“Finally, someone else noticed those things!”

“Ah, how wonderful to have such adoring fans.” Kashiwagi was deaf to criticism, turning to the backstage with an invitational wave. “Hanako, dear, come here and feel the love.”

“Okay, Ms. Kashiwagi!”

The announcer put on a brave face, but he visibly withered inside as the reins of his show were yanked from his hands. He sighed away from the microphone before attempting to cover the usurpation.

“And here comes our second contestant, from the second-year class three, Hanako-chan!” He decided to skip the gag portion of his written notes. He had an intense premonition that there would be enough of an introduction already. The mild applause refreshed for the second coming, and...

“Hey, you like what you see!?”

...Yep, there it was.

The two of them waved out to the crowd, but the way they held their noses up said that the cheering, no matter how much they enjoyed it, was to be expected. It was only natural for them to be showered with all the attention they wanted.

Teddie stood in the wings for a few moments, glancing between them and their ‘adoring’ public. Kanji happened to glance over just as an idea struck the pink-haired bear.

For a brief second, he swore up and down that it looked like an assassin closing in with a knife. It was gone before he could commit it to memory, leaving him to wonder if he hadn’t just imagined the unadulterated malice in their softest member’s face.

“Wow, you two are positively glowing!” Teddie was acting all happy and bouncy, like usual. Maybe Kanji was mistaken after all. Just as he was shaking the fever dream, though, he saw a glint of steel in Ted’s eyes. And his smile was a little too wide, a little too sharp. Hungry. “Is our humble pageant all you hoped it would be?”

“Yes, it’s lovely!” Kashiwagi preened on, unaware of Teddie’s piercing stare. “Stars can only shine their brightest on the right stage. And this, hmhm, is the perfect stage for us.”

“Everyone knew we were great before, but now we can show them our best!”

“Too true, Hanako, too true!” Kashiwagi laughed into her hand, winking coyly at the students. “I only hope our bright selves haven’t blinded everyone. Otherwise they won’t even see the other… contestants.”

Further back in the audience, many openly winced at the claim. She was trying to mask her contempt for girls who weren’t her or her bootlickers, but it wasn’t working. Everyone already knew she thought at least one of them was ‘jailbait.’ Kanji wasn’t surprised, but he was disgusted nonetheless.

“Someone should tell her she ain’t in a swimsuit yet. Way too early for this much bare ego.” As Kanji shook his head, he noticed that Yu was smirking. He relaxed in his seat like he was thoroughly engrossed in the show. “Senpai, don’t you see this shit every day? Why’s it got you hooked now?”

“Did you notice Teddie?” It was almost like Yu had marched right on by the question, but Kanji trusted him to not be so dismissive. He must’ve been going somewhere with this.

“You mean how he looked like he was gonna jump her and slit her throat?”

“That, and what he said. Did he ask them to gloat?”

“Uh, no. The question was kinda… normal, I guess. Just what they thought about the...” That’s when it clicked. Kanji was left staring as he stumbled into what caught Yu’s attention. “What they thought about the pageant. And those two think it’s an excuse to show off.”

“A classic trap.” Yu wished he had brought some popcorn. This was turning out to be quite the spectacle. “Hand someone else the shovels, and let them start digging. Leaves them holding all the dirt.”

“...Again, what the Hell are you teaching this bear?”

“More than I thought, obviously.”

“I hope you’re having fun so far, but we’re just getting started!” The announcer sprung in as soon as there was a lull in their dialogue. He didn’t lose his last show to Bara-Monroe or the Ice Queen, and he wasn’t about to lose it to two girls who didn’t know a high school pageant from a red carpet event. “Our third contestant is a firebrand from the second-year class two. Many unlucky guys out there know her well as the hot-tempered dragon guarding one fair maiden’s heart.”

“Wha- Is that what they all think of me!?” She could have played ignorant, but Chie saw recognition run in streams through the crowd. In fact, she could remember a couple of those faces particularly well. She knew Yosuke’s would be among them if he had been there.

“Introducing Chie Satonaka! Come on out, Chie!”

“You’ve got this.” Yukiko saw her off with a smile and a firm fist pump. “You wooed me without even trying, so those guys should be a breeze.”

Ha. Good to see Yukiko could look back and laugh. If nothing else, Chie could call that a victory. She still felt the thrums of pressure as she made to present, something Rise couldn’t ignore.

“Remember. Just breathe, and keep your eyes on the prize.”

Right. The prize. As Chie made her way to center stage, followed by the gaze of a cheering crowd, she saw Kashiwagi and Hanako all but looking down their noses at her. Those smug jerks. Her temper flared, and the frost of caution melted from her steps. Those two were her opponents here, no one else.

It was hard to think that way when she faced the crowd to introduce herself. Suddenly, it was like staring into the headlights of a passenger plane as it came crashing down on her head. Just as she was about to lose her cool, Teddie jumped in and blotted out a solid quarter of the staring student body.

“Welcome to the show, Chie-chan! Are you as fired up as the other girls here?”

Chie felt a pang of familiarity in how he said that. It was almost like when he was the one watching over their battles. He used that exact tone of voice when pointing out enemy weaknesses. Was that what he was doing, pointing out the gap in their enemy’s defenses?

Because, it was kind of working. She was about to retreat into her shell, but she couldn’t beat them if she shrank in on herself now! No way! Teddie won his way into that wig by being bolder than the rest, and if Chie couldn’t muster up more guts than a red-and-blue pretty boy bear, what kind of fighter was she!?

“You bet I am!” She snarled through her grin and spat smoke as she pointed defiantly into the crowd. “If you think you’re getting close to anyone else up here with me around, you’ve got another thing coming!”

They wanted to call her a vicious dragon? Fine. Then she’d give them what they wanted! Those knights she struck down as they ventured after Yukiko’s attention saw their old foe return, and while some slumped into their seats at the sting of old wounds, many others chose to laugh and clap.

“Hey, from way over here, isn’t her attitude kind of charming?”

“I get what you mean. Now that she’s not barking after us, she’s like a… scrappy underdog taking on Kashiwagi.”

Kanji overheard them, and he shook his head.

“They’re just happy she’s taking on someone they don’t like this time.” Still, Kanji looked on at Chie’s vigor with no small amount of respect. She was owning her reputation well.

“Woo, it’s getting hot up here! How could we possibly make it hotter?” The energy was spiraling up around the stage. From Teddie, to Chie, and now back to the announcer. He signaled a pass to the audience as he launched the hot potato like a fastball. “How about with the princess this dragon’s been keeping to herself? Freed from the tallest tower to walk among the peasants, it’s Yukiko Amagi of the second-year class two!”

The crowds were especially loud as the potato detonated in their fingers. Kanji covered his ears so he wasn’t deafened by the verbal blast.

“Damn, they really have a thing for Yukiko-senpai.”

“Clearly.”

He and Yu shared a look. They weren’t about to out her aloud, but they knew what they were both thinking. ‘Too bad she doesn’t have a thing for them.’

“Okay, you deal with people all the time. Just like hostessing at the Inn.” Yukiko breathed in, and when it came out, it was like a robe being draped over her. Her head was straight forward, and her steps were short and even. Rise nodded approvingly.

“Pulling inspiration from different places, nice! That’s how you give people a one-of-a-kind act.”

“I-is that so?” It was probably too late to be asking herself, but did Naoto have any transferable skill sets like that? Professional interviews, no matter how sensationalized, differed a bit too much. As did her elementary school keyboard concerts, or the full concert she played in a few scant weeks ago.

As Naoto let herself get lost down another whirlpool of half-baked solutions, Yukiko entered the light to overwhelming applause. The hands she had crossed in front of her tightened their grip slightly, but beyond that, she held off any visible reaction.

Teddie noticed this, as well as the distinct manner she portrayed herself. She settled into her spot on the stage, and he was there to greet her.

“Thank you for gracing us this evening, Amagi-chan. And, might I say, your complexion is dazzling in these stark lights. Is this the famous Amagi Inn hot springs at work?”

“Yes, it is.” Yukiko let her cheeks relax and tick up in the most subdued of smiles. “The warm mineral water is relaxing and cleansing. If you’re ever in the area, please give us a visit.” She bent down in a smooth bow, and as she came up, the waves of her hair trailed gently along. She was as the river, aloof, yet mesmerizing in her grace.

The crowd more than made up for her own lack of zeal, their cheering redoubled. This was the Yukiko Amagi so many of them pined for. Distant, but almost within reach, like a spirit dancing in the mist.

Yu almost had to laugh. It was like watching sailors telling each other about the mermaids they saw at sea. Yukiko was playing the part of the legend they wanted swimmingly. And, at the same time, she was weaving in endorsements for her family’s business. It was a class act, one he would have to compliment her on later. And Ted for catching onto it, of course.

“Thank you very much for the invitation, Yukiko-chan! It sounds like a lovely time.” The announcer gave away a hint of his burgeoning excitement as he saw who was on his next card. He cleared his throat, then launched back into the performance with enthusiasm to spare. “Now, we’ve seen the fire and finesse of our very own Inaba, but how will it hold up against the best that Japan at large has to offer? Please, put your hands together for Rise Kujikawa!”

Some small part of Yu noticed that he failed to mention which class she was from. But then, no one really needed to have who Rise was clarified. They all knew her. The auditorium was already sounding like one of her normal venues with the racket that the guys were raising. The girls largely sighed and rolled their eyes at the idol fever, though a few joined in on the fun.

His attention returned to the stage just in time to see Rise skipping up front. She was waving both hands in quick, sweeping greetings, making sure they faced every direction at least once. It was a small way of making the audience feel like she was aware of, and grateful to, each and every person in attendance even though her eyes were closed. A way to keep the initial burst of those stage lights from blinding her and making her wince, most likely.

“Hi-hi! My name’s Rise Kujikawa!”

Ah, ‘my name is’ instead of ‘I am.’ She was acting as if this was her first appearance, her chosen response providing her name instead of assuming people already knew it. No subtlety of the kind cut back on just how loud the crowd was at her entrance, but it implicitly undercut the idea that she was at all conceited in her fame.

“I’ve only been in town a little while, but it’s a great place and I’m one hundred percent thrilled to be here!”

Now, that was how you endeared yourself to people. Where Kashiwagi’s introduction felt like she expected them to like her already, Rise’s went out of its way to make them feel special even though they actually liked her from the get-go. Or, more aptly, that was part of the reason why people liked her. She never forgot she was there for them, not the other way around.

It was a shame the structures built up around idolhood wore her down so much, Yu thought. She was a natural talent. Some investors just didn’t know how to properly care for a good thing when they found it. Short-sighted pricks.

When Rise opened her eyes, her gaze happened to link with Yu’s. There was an initial thrust of shame in how obvious he made it that he was looking right at her. After everything he had put her through these last few months? But then, she smiled a little wider. Almost imperceptibly so. A wave of warmth washed over Yu’s heart, and for a little while, he felt clean again.

Mother always warned him about girls like her. They knew how to entice your fortune right out of your pocket, and you wouldn’t even know it until you were looking at her from the other side of a divorce hearing.

Well, Mother-dearest could go choke on her fortune. Yu was actually happy here. In fact, he was so happy that he didn’t notice time pass as the announcer thanked Rise and she moved back into line with everyone else. He only snapped out of it when Kanji elbowed him in the ribs.

“Earth to La La Land, you there Senpai?” He had a wry grin on his mug, and a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Yu felt the pink rising to his cheeks.

“Yes. I am. Sorry, don’t know what happened.”

“Sure you don’t.”

Yu hadn’t felt this short on words for several months.

But to Naoto, it was a new experience entirely. No matter how she twisted the pieces, she couldn’t find a way out of this predicament. And now, standing alone backstage, she knew her luck was running dry. The flap of shuffling note cards filled her with dread.

“Now that we’ve seen the beauty, here comes the brains. An enigma stalking the murky streets, she’s stepping into broad daylight for all to see!”

While Naoto respected the creativity behind her introduction, it felt like a handful of mud being slapped in her face. Her supposed brains weren’t doing her much good. Their gears were clogged by all this filth.

“Next is the mysterious transfer student, of the first-year’s class one, Ms. Naoto Shirogane!”

Her waning pride was a bitter lump to swallow as she shuffled out of her vestigial cover. The trench behind her, she was left to face the booming cheers and piercing gazes of no man’s land. They were staring at her, picking her apart like maggots chewing through a rabbit’s corpse.

She sank deep in the shame, hiding behind the flaps of her coat’s neckline. It didn’t do much to cover up her missing hat, however. Normally, the longest strands of her hair were tucked up so that it didn’t surpass her chin. Now, the navy blue locks flowed free, rolling down almost to her shoulders. That one gap in her disguise shattered the illusion of androgyny she carefully constructed. She stood on that stage, undeniably, as a girl, and most everyone down below watched her with certain expectations.

One smart guy noticed how unsettled Naoto was, and he found a devilish grin. A pair of fingers lifted up to his lips. He took a deep breath. He was ready to blast the high and mighty Detective Prince with the whistle to end all catcalls.

A sharp slap to the back of his head made all the air whump out of him like a broken whoopie cushion. He spun around in his seat, ready to give the bastard who hit him a piece of his mind.

All that rage froze in his throat when he saw the scowl chiseled onto Kanji’s face. There was murder in those eyes. The would-be catcaller slowly turned around, sat down, and tried to make himself look as small and meaningless as possible.

The exchange slipped past Naoto’s notice. Her field of view was fuzzy at best, like her brain was preemptively repressing the experience. She couldn’t see any single person, but she was sharply aware of their combined presence. It was one thing to be watched by a normal studio audience for a news broadcast. It was another for that audience to be all but picking the clothes off her with their eyes. She was crushed under the weight of their hungry expectations. Her voice could only escape as a mouse-like squeak.

“H-Hello. I’m… Naoto Shirogane.” Her normal tone was unfamiliar on her tongue. It was physically easier to speak, but mentally, it hacked at her confidence with every letter. This wasn’t what the person she wanted to be sounded like. Not at all. A detective spoke with confidence, not demure resignation. She felt her stomach churning…

“It’s great to have you here, Shirogane-san.” She was shocked when one person came into clear view. Teddie was as goofy looking as ever with that wig on, but the way he spoke was more measured than usual. Loud and performative, but not immature. It was a few paces closer to the sort of announcer she was used to conversing with. “If you don’t mind me saying, though, you seem a little high strung at the moment. Let me guess, work’s been rough?”

Oh thank God. A professional topic. And it came bundled with an excuse for how reclusive she was behaving. What little control she had left over herself immediately piloted the rest of her shambling meat suit to follow that thread.

“To put it lightly. I was up late… investigating a robbery.” The thing that was stolen being her self-respect. Oh, look, she found a few grains of it. She would need that in a bit. “Crime never sleeps. And neither do I, apparently.”

Okay, she sounded like a narcoleptic Batman, but it was preferable to sounding like a curvy airhead. She could stomach this result.

“I think I speak for everyone when I say, thank you for your service.” The announcer filled in for her lacking energy, tipping over in a bow so low that one of his legs lifted off the ground behind him. “And for finding the time to join our show! We’ll have some coffee waiting for you during intermission.”

She gave him a halfhearted nod of acknowledgment before scurrying to the end of the lineup. She was still visible, but much less so in the shadows of more popular girls. Rise leaned over an inch and whispered.

“You’re doing great. Just one more part to get through and we’re done.”

“Perhaps.” Now that she was allowed to breathe again, Naoto was reminded of how hard her heart was pounding. Her chest was being repeatedly battered by a drumstick. “But it’s the next part I’m dreading most.”

“And with that, all six uniquely beautiful contestants are on stage!” The announcer stepped up to the forefront, conveniently standing right in front of Naoto. His blessing, though, came with a curse. “But sit tight, because this year, there’s a twist! By the suggestion of one enthusiastic sponsor, the Miss Yasogami Pageant will now feature a swimsuit competition!”

He held out the microphone expectantly, but the rebound added was only a drop in the bucket next to the earth-shattering cheers leased by his ravenous crowd. Caught in the middle of it, Kanji’s anger was left to simmer.

“Don’t these idiots know there’s swimsuit shit all over the net for free?”

“Rule one of adult entertainment; the market doesn’t bloat. People always want more.”

“Fucking animals.”

The announcer took back his mic with a flourish, nearly yelling to be heard.

“We’ll take a short break while our contestants change. Don’t go anywhere, because the show will go on in just ten minutes! After you, ladies.”

“Let’s go, Hanako-chan. It’s time to sweep these pretenders off their feet.”

“Hehe, yeah!” Hanako was close on Kashiwagi’s heels, the two sustaining each other’s egos as their ‘adoring’ public was left in the dust.

“Grr… Still hate them. Hate them SO much.” Chie hoped they choked on their chortles. Yukiko walked by, her aloof act creaking open as the mics went silent.

“Just stick it out a little longer. It’ll be great to watch them eat their words, right?”

“Oh it better be. If I go through all of this and don’t get a front row seat to it blowing up in their faces, I’ll blow up!”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get that seat, Chie-senpai.” Rise winked as she passed. “Those two think that slapping on a swimsuit and jiggling a bit is enough. There’s a technique to this sort of thing, though. You want some tips?”

Naoto was the last girl on stage, trudging along behind the rest. Every second under the harsh lights was draining her, and soon, her skin would be exposed to its searing rays. She glanced out at the audience one last time, knowing that they would eat her alive anew in a few short minutes.

But she didn’t see the wide, faceless mob this time. Instead, she somehow found herself looking right at Kanji. He was staring down at the row in front of him with a scowl. When he looked up and saw her, his expression softened. He gave all the sympathy he had to her in that exchange, and sealed it with a low thumb-up.

It was a small gesture, and she only saw it for a second before slinking into the dark backstage again, but any assurance was welcome. At least there was one person down in that pit who was on her side in all this.

-

The first thing Naoto did when she got to her makeshift changing room was throw her coat over the mirror. The curtains hung up around her kept anyone else from seeing her, and now, she couldn’t see herself.

It was a comfort that couldn’t last long. She kept her eyes level as she changed from there. The most she saw was her exposed shoulders. Even with these layers of defense, when she picked up her… stage outfit, she shuddered at the sheer lack of layers.

It was the best Rise could find in her size, though. That woman was infuriating sometimes, but if she could have found a more reserved option, she would have gotten it for Naoto. Junes didn’t stock school-sanctioned one-piece swimsuits. All they had were bikinis. And for Naoto’s size, there wasn’t anything available with longer skirts like Yukiko’s, nor concealing sportswear like Chie’s. It was just a pair of cups and brief bottom piece. It might as well have been waterproof underwear.

At least it was a flattering color. Dark blue, a cool, calming shade. Maybe she could hide in the dark of the stage yet.

It wasn’t too uncomfortable to put on or wear either. The bottom didn’t cut into her skin, and the top was supportive enough without squeezing excessively.

Oh joy, so she could use the full capacity of her lungs to hyperventilate when everyone started staring at her. That was just wonderful. No, really. Next she’ll get the choice of what knife to plunge into her own heart.

She was in her swimsuit relatively quickly. It was on before anyone else. But she couldn’t bring herself to leave the booth from there. She sat in front of the coat-blocked mirror and shut down. She would hold onto whatever privacy she could get for as long as she could keep it, because after this, her body would be an open secret. What privacy could she get when everyone had seen her stripped down like this?

The classroom door opened and closed a few times. The others were finishing up. Soon, the excuses would run out. Their footsteps grew quieter and quieter, until only one set remained in the room with her. The last one left came close to her booth.

“Are you okay? Do you need help? Or, someone to talk to?” Rise’s voice was soft and worried. She must have thought Naoto was blacking out again, just like when they found out about the involuntary sign up.

“I’m roughly as okay as I can be, given the circumstances. And the… swimsuit wasn’t difficult to put on. Thank you for helping me find this one.”

“No problem. I’m always here if you need me.” She didn’t sound convinced that Naoto was alright. Naoto wasn’t much convinced either. “So, how do you think you look?”

“I don’t know. I covered the mirror.”

“Ah. I see.” A silly question, but not one she could really be blamed for. “Shows like this suck, right? They call it a beauty pageant, but the judges are always narrow-minded about what looks good or not. People have different tastes. The girls in them have different tastes.”

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, they say. In Naoto’s experience, it was a quote that everyone knew, but that very few used earnestly.

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do with this small talk, Rise, but it’s only delaying the inevitable.”

“I’m actually trying to make a point!” Rise took a breath to gather herself, then she continued. “That narrow view I mentioned, it hurts a lot more than just girls in pageants. People think that a girl trying to look good anywhere is vain, or stupid, or some crap like that. It’s people who think like that who made you so worried about being seen as a girl at all. Right?”

“...You could say so, yes.” The sting of exclusion was still fresh. It always would be, she feared. If it was between her and Rise, maybe she could open up about it. “In an isolated sector such as law enforcement, people look for whatever they can to discredit newcomers. The cards were already stacked against me, since they saw my name and age and thought I was just some brat parading around in my parents’ shoes. If they saw me as a girl on top of that, or saw anything about me that so much as hinted that I wasn’t serious… I never would have made it this far. Doors would have slammed shut.”

“I realize that linking all of it to just my gender was a mistake on my part, that they still saw me as a brat and excluded me anyway… But...”

“But you’re still afraid that them seeing you as anything but the Detective Prince will make you lose everything you’ve worked for.”

Naoto didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Rise had hit the nail on the head, and it hurt.

“...You see what I mean? They look at a girl being a girl and see stuff like this. Beauty pageants and skimpy outfits. But people are more than just that. I mean, do you look at me and just see some dumb idol?”

“No… I see someone with a passion for making people feel better. Someone who has worked hard to get where she is.” Naoto crossed her arms on her desk, and she glanced back with a small, wry smile. “And I see a devil who enjoys pressing people’s buttons a little too much.”

“You’re dang right!” It was good to laugh. Naoto spent enough of her life not being able to do that. “What I’m trying to say is, people will always try to put you into boxes you don’t belong in. You can let them, you can try to make them put you in a different box… Or, you can be yourself. Anyone whose opinion is worthwhile will see you for who you really are. You think someone will really look at your record, at all the crooks you’ve caught, and throw it all away just because you’re a girl? Only an idiot would do that.”

Rise’s idea sounded… nice. Utopian, even. But, it felt too out of reach.

“That’s easier said than done, you know. After all the repression I’ve undergone, I can’t even look at myself without feeling sick. Let alone allowing anyone else to see more than my face.”

“And that is why I’m making you an offer.” A note of determination hit Rise’s tone, a sharp pang of confidence that made Naoto listen. “Like I said before, everyone has their own tastes in looks. This showy swimsuit stuff? Obviously not you, but it’s what you’ve been forced into thinking a girl should look like. It’s what all those kids out there think looks good. But I want to help you find what you think looks good.”

Naoto nearly laughed again, but much more pointedly.

“Are you genuinely trying to help me… with a makeover?”

“Hey, laugh all you want, but I’m serious.” Rise turned around, leaving with one last pearl of wisdom. “The first step in making others accept you is being able to accept yourself. And I know one of the first times I was ever able to accept myself, was the first time I could look in the mirror and like what I see. Everyone deserves that much.”

Rise tapped away after that, the door closing behind her with finality. Naoto was left alone with her thoughts, and Rise’s thoughts.

She spoke a lot of truth. Being buried in unfair expectations was a sad fact of life. Responding to them somehow came naturally, either by sinking into them or actively refuting them. What kind of person would it take to march through them without a second thought?

‘Haven’t we been screwed over by stuff like that enough?’

Kanji’s advice arose as briskly as it first arrived. Rules that weren’t even rules… Boxes that you were filtered into without reason… Those things were linked. Naoto was preemptively sorted out as a bratty little girl, and bratty little girls, they decided, didn’t deserve respect as a detective.

It was a straightforward claim. If X, then Y.

But the statement was flawed. Despite being a girl, Naoto had filled the role of her station. She was among the few who knew the supernatural bent of the Inaba murders. She was closer than anyone to finding the killer. She was a Shirogane, through-and-through, not just some brat dumped into the name by circumstance.

They couldn’t call her a brat and retain their respect, so they would call out her womanhood instead. And yet, she wasn’t a brat either. Neither the root of their disrespect nor the smokescreen meant to cover it held water. It was all a fallacious cycle of self-aggrandizement to which they meant to sacrifice her for their precious status quo. And she had allowed it to chew her up, to mangle her view of herself.

She had allowed them to create shame in the idea of being anything less than perfect. In the idea of simply being herself.

She looked up at the covered mirror, and with a dry gulp, she reached towards it. Her fingers were heavy. Her bones were leaden weights. Her heart pounded, and her lungs tried to make her take in air to compensate, but she forced her breathing to remain slow and constant. She wouldn’t fuel the trepidation of her heart, and when it burned through its fuel, it slowed.

She reached the coat. And she pulled it down.

The face staring back at her wasn’t some monster. It wasn’t repulsive, no matter what the wheezing of her stomach said. It was just a face. Her own face, bordered by her own hair. The tips of it laid daintily on her collarbone, coming to little blue curls as they rested. She lifted her heavy hand and made her stiff fingers run through it. Her hair was soft and smooth all the way down. She let her fingertips linger at the curled ends of her hair, rolling it between them. These longer strands, that she had hidden for so long, were still pleasant to the touch.

She took in the shape of her face, too. Now that it wasn’t tucked between a high collar and a low cap, she noticed that the sides of her head were gently curved. They paired well with the long strands of hair running beside them. This was the first time she had looked at herself so directly since she was twelve, at least. When did her features become so… soft?

And yet, when she looked at her eyes, her gaze wasn’t any less attentive. They flicked to every minute detail, finding and exploring the curves and bumps of her appearance with studied ease. The thoughts in her head didn’t suddenly cloud, either. If anything, having something brand new to examine like this was a treat to her inquisitive mind.

No matter what she looked like, nor what she registered as how she looked, she was still the same Naoto inside. She was still the Detective Prince. She was still a Shirogane.

But then, that was about as far as she was willing to explore at the moment. She noticed that she was holding her coat in a way that hid anything below her neck from view. She wasn’t ready to see that particular aspect of herself just yet. Exposure therapy worked best in increments.

It was for the best anyway. This swimsuit, she decided, was absolutely not for her.

And why was she wearing it? Just to appease the ego of one powerless teacher? Did Kashiwagi think her fair game just because she was, technically, a girl with notoriety? The same narrow box she stuffed Rise and Yukiko into? Ludicrous. Simply ludicrous.

Her internal ranting was interrupted by a knock on the classroom door. It didn’t open, but a voice came through it instead. She recognized him as one of the stagehands for the pageant.

“Excuse me, Shirogane-chan? The show is about to start. Is everything alright?”

Naoto took one more look at herself in the mirror. She looked into her eyes, as if discussing it with herself, then nodded in agreement.

“Yes, everything is fine. Tell them to run the show without me.”

“Huh? I mean, the show is already going. Your part is coming up...”

“And I have decided to not participate further. I apologize for any inconveniences, but my choice is final.”

“Um… Okay. If you say so.” Seeing no way to cut through the awkwardness on his part, the stagehand opted instead to leave it at that. He walked away, Naoto’s resignation in hand.

Kashiwagi would certainly take it as a victory. She would think Naoto left because she couldn’t handle competing against her anymore.

She could think that as much as she wanted. Naoto truly could not care less. Right then, all she cared about was getting out of that glorified bra and into clothes that were more her taste.

Ah, speaking of taste, she forgot all about her coffee. It was cold, but she was fine with that. Her eyes were wide open.

-

Rise skipped back into the line, her feet kicking up to obscure just enough of her backside to keep anyone from getting too clear a view of her butt. A professional tease was a delicate balance of what was and wasn’t shown. It wasn’t easy to strike that happy middle without an editor splicing film, but Rise knew enough to get close to the mark all on her own.

She tried to impart that knowledge onto Chie and Yukiko, but the two still felt wildly out of their depths sandwiched between a trained idol, two clearly untrained attention seekers, and a whole lot of hungry glares. Yukiko’s distanced act was looking more and more like an unevenly painted daruma doll. She wished they hadn’t bothered to paint in her eyes.

“How did you keep up with stuff like this every day?”

“I didn’t.” Rise kept her happy-go-lucky demeanor outwardly shining while her voice hissed like a deflating balloon. “Now you see why I dropped being an idol.”

“...Yeah, I definitely understand.”

Rise didn’t lie about how tiring it all was, but at the same time, she sort of missed the thrills that came with the back-breaking work. The hearty applause she got for her performance was a warm broth she had yet to find a substitute for. It was fulfilling to be back in the saddle one more time.

“Thank you very much, Risette!” Their announcer was all charged up. One performer’s spirit jump-started another’s, and he was running all the way home with it. “Don’t use up all that excitement just yet, people, because we still have one more beauty to behold!”

“Here it comes.” Kanji shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. The guy in front of him jumped on reflex, but it flew under his radar. The only shithead trying something funny now was a teacher, and Kanji couldn’t slap her for it even if he wanted to. He was about half-and-half on that, honestly. Which way he tipped depended on the next few minutes.

“You did everything you could. We all did.” Yu hunkered down, his eyes shaded over by the tilt of his head. “Now, we’ll see if it worked.”

“Last time, everyone put your hands together for…!” The announcer raised a finger to the sky as if to call down the thunder, but the weatherman was distracted by someone inching out of stage left. A stagehand was barely visible, a hand cupped around his mouth. His whispers scratched the mic. Not even Yu could decipher it. Only the announcer was privy to the details. “Really? You’re sure about that? Okay, okay.” The stagehand vanished, and their host stuttered back into character with a conspicuous cough.

“There’s been a small change of plans, unfortunately. It seems Naoto-chan has opted out of this part of the show.”

“Ha!” Kashiwagi didn’t need a microphone to be heard all around the room. Her haughty laugh likely crossed the school on its own. “That’s one twerp down, three to go. We’re on a roll, Hanako-chan!”

“Huh. Would you look at that.” The tension that had been coiling up in Kanji as a hissing cobra misfired all at once. He didn’t know what to do with the broiling nerves he had been sitting on now. “She actually took my advice. Heh. Who would’ve thought.”

Yu let out a sigh, though it wasn’t in relief. It was more like the beep of a bomb being disarmed. The announcer pointed to the back of the auditorium, and other stagehands began passing out slips of paper and pens.

“With that, all our contestants have strutted their stuff, but who among them shined the brightest? That’s for you in the audience to decide!”

“Make your choice! But keep it a secret!” Teddie huddled with a finger held over his lips. “Where’s the suspense if it isn’t a surprise?”

The lead-up was part of the fun, sure, but Yu knew who Kanji was picking. His Kohai didn’t wait a second past getting his ballot to fill it out. Yu took a few seconds more to decide, but this last round sealed his vote rather well. Took guts to show up in a swimsuit. It took more to throw it back in a corrupt despot’s face.

Though, he voted with some certainty that his and Kanji’s calls would be little more than cries into the void. Guys showed up wanting skin, and Naoto hadn’t shown them any. He heard a few among them chatting about it against Teddie’s request, and every name on that stage popped up across the board. It was a chorus of unorganized chicken scratch.

But then, he noticed that there was much more consistency among the softer tones. His eyebrows lifted with great intrigue.

Helpers collected their ballots in a sealed box, and after a few minutes backstage, the results were handed to the announcer on one last slip of paper.

“And the votes are in! Hold onto your seats, because this will be winner takes all.” He opened the final tally with a fanciful flourish, though he exposed its face only to himself and Teddie. The latter made quick work of the numbers.

“It looks like you fellas out there were in a heated struggle for the top pick. It’s neck-and-neck across the stage for the guys’ votes!”

“But for all your struggling, the decision was made by an uproar of support from the ladies. It’s a landslide! We’ve never had a gap like this, people!” Spotlights followed them as they spread to opposite sides of the stage. A drum roll tapped along as they held out for any suspense they could wring from the moment. “Miss Yasogami 2011 is…!”

The lights dimmed. Everyone was at the edge of their seats, waiting for one brilliant beam to rain down on the victor. They were all blinded when the whole stage lit up, and the hosts proclaimed, “Miss Naoto Shirogane!”

There was much bewilderment to be had. The guys were looking around like a bunch of chickens dumped in an unfamiliar coop. About a sixth of them were left to cheer for their pick, and though Yu and Kanji ranked among them, they held their peace for the moment. Yu in particular found it pleasing to turn his ears on the quiet cheers and high-fives spreading among the girls.

He was almost as pleased to see how Kashiwagi and Hanako’s faces withered at the revelation. The dams were breaking. And it seemed Yu’s own prodigy was as keenly aware of it. Teddie took a sidelong look at their devastation, and that evil gleam came back with unsheathed fury.

“Yes, her dedication to the detective arts let her steal all your hearts, as the competition falls apart! She might not be here, but if we clap hard enough, she’ll have to hear us anyway! Come on, make some noise for our big winner!”

Though many of their votes were for naught, no one in the audience wanted to be a party pooper. They clapped and hooted and hollered per Ted’s orchestration, their exuberance crashing hard against the fragile shores of Kashiwagi’s ego. The dam burst, and as she grit her teeth to hold it in, her frustrations came screaming out as a torrent of tears.

“H-how… How… How could I lose a BEAUTY PAGEANT!?”

Beside her, Hanako felt no rage. Only crushing defeat. She sobbed and hiccuped as their fantasies shattered around them like so much glass.

“Miss Kashiwagi… I-I can’t believe thi-i-is!”

“Oh Hanako!”

The two receded into their bubble of self-pity, a star imploding into a black hole of despair. With them sucking up all the sadness in the room, Chie snickered in the abundant leftover happiness.

“Got stuck in this dumb swimsuit by Yosuke again. Worked myself up for a fight. And we were all beaten by someone who didn’t even show up. That’s… actually pretty funny.”

“Shame she wasn’t here to see it herself.” Yukiko watched the high-and-mighty Kashiwagi lose all her bluster as closely as possible. She was going to relay it all to their champion, down to the smallest detail.

Meanwhile, Rise could only nod, graceful in defeat.

“I knew you had it in you, Naoto.”

Yu couldn’t hide his smirk if he tried. All around him, obscured by the clamor of Ted’s calculated assault on their enemies’ weak point, the girls celebrated their victory. This wasn’t just a bunch of people having the same idea on a whim. It was a conspiracy to put a shared enemy in her place, and Naoto was their unwitting ringleader.

His mother told him how dangerous a conniving woman could be. Perhaps she wasn’t completely full of it, for once.

His eye trailed over to Kanji, who found a good use for his nervous energy. He craned back in his seat, faced up at the heavens, and he laughed. He was a captain at the head of his ship, watching a galleon sink before him. The crown wasn’t his that day, but he sure as Hell felt like the king of the world.


Alicante Academy was an amalgamation of every fancy boarding school shown in movies and on television. The buildings were red brick, the lawns were immaculate Kentucky green, and the uniforms were plagiarized from much older schools in much older countries. The dark gray commemorative plate near the entrance proclaimed the institution’s establishment in 1872.

Raphael found his own way to the Administrative Building, accepted a thick stack of paperwork from the woman behind the counter, and followed a senior student named Underhill along winding, gravel pathways to his designated dorm building.

“That’s the Science Building,” Underhill said, gesturing to a wide, rectangular box with polarized windows. “You’ll be spending at least half your class hours in there, so try to memorize the floor plan as soon as you can.” His long, pale arm swung in the opposite direction. “Gym’s over there: workout room, Olympic pool, and three halls for indoor activities like tennis, basketball, soccer, archery, kendo, what-have-you. Outdoor courts, track and field, and shooting ranges are behind the chapel on the back forty with the horse stables.”

Because of course they have horse stables.

Raphael rolled his eyes. He trailed after Underhill who rattled off more orientation stuff, moving rapidly past three or four other buildings before they arrived at the dormitory.

“This is Blackthorn Hall, your home for the next two years.”

The building was not what Raphael had expected. It was an old two-story Tudor, whimsical chimneys and all. Triangular gables protruded from the length of the steeply pitched roof, framing diamond-grill casement windows. Craftsman timber on top of old-world masonry.

Raphael wanted to puke. Everything about the place was anathema to him.

“You’ll get used to it,” Underhill said as if he’d read his mind.

His room on the second floor was little more than a shoe box with a twin bed, a desk, and a window.

“We don’t do roommates at Alicante,” Underhill explained, “but that means some of the rooms are pretty small, and naturally, seniors get first choice.”

“It’s fine.”

Raphael wasn’t even lying. He couldn’t care less if they stuck him in a coffin and buried him alive.

“Right-o.” Underhill shot him a funny look, but at least he didn’t pry. “Dinner starts at six. Mess hall’s in the Lightwood Building. Don’t be late.”

The door closed behind him, leaving Raphael alone with his thoughts. He pulled out his phone. No messages. It was 4:48 pm. He didn’t remember what being hungry felt like.

With no interest in anything, and nothing but meaningless time stretching ahead of him, Raphael dropped the suitcase on the bed and walked away.

“Hey, are you the new guy?”

He fled from the unpleasantly chipper voice behind him, and burst through the pressed wood front door with its fake iron hinges, no idea where to go except out.

The gravel pathways extended across the grounds. Raphael followed them for lack of any other kind of direction. The next time he looked up from his feet, he was standing in front of the chapel Underhill had mentioned earlier.

It was a small stone building with stained glass windows, a single steeple, and an old copper weather-vane with a bright green patina at the top of its shingled spire. The door at the entrance was thick, actual wood. Dark brown and weathered, it smelled like moss and furniture polish, and the black iron bar handle was worn to a smooth gray shine where people’s hands had grasped it a million times.

Raphael curled his fingers around the handle and pulled. The door was heavy. It felt solid and real like nothing else had in days.

The church was quiet. His footsteps echoed on the stone floors and the pew creaked in protest when he sat down, halfway between the entrance and the altar. He wasn’t ready to go up there and kneel. He wasn’t ready to talk.

So, he sat quietly and looked at the familiar surroundings and tried to remember all the times his father had taken them to Sunday mass. Raphael didn’t remember the first time, of course, because he’d been going from birth.

This was the type of church where they should have held the funeral service. Camille hadn’t even allowed them that dignity. Instead, she’d arranged for a non-denominational service at the funeral home in Connecticut, right next to a bland, beige room with empty caskets.

His family’s remains had been cremated within twenty-four hours of arriving at the New York City morgue. A clerical error. Bile rose in Raphael’s throat every time he thought about it. His parents and siblings were dead, burned, gone.

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.

He should be with them.

A heavy hand on his shoulder jolted him awake. Raphael had no idea when he had fallen asleep or what time it was. He looked up into the concerned face of the priest who had woken him.

The man was in his thirties. His tight black curls were shorn close to his head and the lower half of his light brown face was covered by a neatly trimmed beard. His bushy brows furrowed, but there was a gentle smile on his wide lips.

“I’m sorry to disturb your sleep, son, but I have to lock up for the night.”

“What time is it?” Raphael asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“Nine-thirty,” the father said.

Raphael’s eyes were wide open. He had slept clear through dinner.

“I’m afraid it’s past curfew.” The father stepped back, allowing him to scramble out of the pew.

“I’m sorry, Father,” he said honestly. “I have no idea how this happened.”

“It’s all right. We all take comfort in the Lord’s presence.”

“Yeah.” Raphael swallowed uncomfortably, acutely aware that he had never said a word to God the whole time he’d been here.

“Why don’t I take you back to your dorm?” the father offered, motioning toward the door. “I might be able to negotiate some leniency from your Residential Head.”

“I couldn’t…” Raphael didn’t deserve leniency, definitely not at the expense of someone else.

“Nonsense.” The father placed a hand on his shoulder and ushered him out the door. “I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t make sure you get back safe.” He paused as if something had just occurred to him. “This is the first time I’ve seen you. You must be a new student. What’s your name?”

“Raphael Santiago, Father.”

“Raphael,” the father repeated his name with a smile. “The healer.” He locked the door to the church behind them and guided Raphael onto the gravel path that led back to the main building complex. “My name is Victor Aldertree. I’m the school chaplain.”

They walked in silence back to Blackthorn House, and Raphael was relieved that Father Aldertree didn’t ask him any questions.

The head of Raphael’s dorm was Iris Rouse, a pale, narrow-faced woman with a long nose, thin lips, and a sharp tongue. She was not impressed by his chaperone.

“I don’t care if he’s out feeding the homeless or converting people to your cause. Curfew is at 9 pm.” Her gaze moved sharply from Father Aldertree to Raphael. “That’s one demerit.”

“Actually,” said Father Aldertree smoothly, “curfew can be extended under special circumstances with permission from a member of the faculty. I have enlisted Raphael to help clean the chapel before closing.”

Raphael snapped his head around to look at Father Aldteree, shame slithering down the nape of his neck. The priest had just lied on his behalf. He opened his mouth to protest, but the father cut him off with a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Raphael will be needed between the hours of 8:30 and 9:30 pm, Monday through Saturday. Additional hours may be needed on Sundays. I’ll be happy to send you a copy of the permission form.”

Ms. Rouse’s eyes narrowed even further as she looked between the two of them. Raphael wasn’t sure she wouldn’t slam the door in their faces until she stepped aside with a derisive sniff.

“Make sure you do,” she said.

Raphael slipped past her with hunched shoulders and only turned back long enough to throw a grateful look at Father Aldertree who stood on the doorstep as if no evil could touch him.

“Good night, Raphael.”

“Thank you for your kindness, Father.”

The next morning, Raphael dressed in his brand-new uniform for the first time. The arctic green blazer clashed with his dark honey skin tone, and the silver-and-mint striped tie was a backhanded slap in the face of fashion.

His itinerary for the day started with a morning assembly in the auditorium of the Lightwood Building at 7:45 am. He found his way to the building in question by following the map in the school's app and the hundreds of students in arctic green blazers that dragged him along like a churning river.

The swell pushed up a flight of wide stone steps, divided between two sets of glass double-doors, and spilled into a large entrance hall with granite floors and panoramic windows. Raphael let the stream carry him forward, down a long hallway until they all ended up in an auditorium big enough to sit two hundred people with room to spare.

He watched the other students pick seats at random, any rows except the first two directly in front of the stage, and ended up somewhere toward the back, one seat away from the very end of the row close to the sound-proof wall.

The hard plastic seats on either side of him were still empty by the time the teachers climbed the steps onto the stage. Raphael breathed a sigh of relief. He allowed himself to relax and draped his arm over the seat on his left.

A square-jawed woman in her late fifties, presumably Headmistress Imogen Herondale, stepped up to the high-tech podium at the center of the stage and cleared her throat. Her makeup was too dark for her sallow complexion, and the microphone whined at her first attempt to speak into it. She clearly had trouble moderating her voice.

“Good morning,” she said.

Her next words flew right over Raphael’s head because someone slipped into the seat beside him and, in the same liquid motion, snuggled up against his side.

“Thanks for saving me a seat, cinna-bun. Did I miss anything important?”

The irreverent purr belonged to a lithe boy with golden-brown skin, spiky black hair, and a stunning pair of dark brown cat-eyes.

“Whu-um-huh?” Raphael’s brain was having trouble making coherent words.

“Pleasure to meet you,” purred the cat-eyed boy. “I’m Magnus. Now, hush, we wouldn’t want to miss what I’m sure is going to be a riveting speech by our merciless leader.”

Raphael was too stunned to move when Magnus grabbed his arm, snuggled closer and linked their fingers on his bony shoulder, keeping Raphael trapped in a position that made them look like a couple.

He tried to pull his arm free. Magnus tightened his grip. His skinny fingers were unnaturally warm and strong, and the edges of several rings bit sharply into Raphael’s skin. He relented.

Up on the stage, Headmistress Herondale had continued her prepared speech, blissfully ignorant of what was happening in the back rows.

“We are here to welcome three new students into our fold: Clarissa Fray, daughter of alumna Jocelyn Fairchild, and Simon Lewis, recipient of the Fairchild scholarship, both from Manhattan, New York, as well as Raphael Santiago from New Haven, Connecticut, whose aunt, Senator Camille Belcourt, has graciously agreed to sponsor our upcoming Fall Formal.”

The students cheered.

“Ow, ease up on the grip, cinna-bun,” Magnus murmured in his ear.

“Miss Fray, Mister Lewis, and Mister Santiago, would you please rise?” the headmistress ordered them with a sweeping motion of her hands.

Raphael unclenched his fingers, and Magnus released him so he could get up. The two other students stood up on the opposite side of the center aisle, closer to the front. The girl was a tiny red-head and the boy a lanky brunet who wouldn’t let go of the girl’s hand even though he was vibrating with anxiety.

“Welcome,” Headmistress Herondale looked at each of them before she turned her predatory gaze to the crowd at large. “Please, ensure that the transition for our newcomers is as smooth as possible and show them that our motto extends not only to flesh and blood but to everyone here at Alicante Academy. Familia Ante Omnia.”

While the student body dutifully chorused the school motto, Magnus muttered beside him, “Familia anima obruat.”

Raphael had never taken Latin. He could cobble together the official school motto, thanks to being bilingual in English and Spanish, but Magnus’s phrase was a mystery. All he knew for sure was that the enigmatic boy didn’t agree with the idea of putting ‘family before everything’.

Raphael dropped back into his chair and pointedly crossed his arms in front of his chest. Magnus ignored the gesture and leaned closer. Vexed and embarrassed, Raphael stewed in silence while Headmistress Herondale went on and on about the upcoming dance.

“Fall Formal, seriously?” he growled between clenched teeth. “Why not just call it Homecoming like everyone else?”

Magnus chuckled. “Darling, we’re more special than that,” he purred, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin on Raphael’s neck. “We have one of these for every season. Spring Fling, Summer Slummer, Fall Fuckfest, and the Winter Wonderland. Of course, that’s not the official nomenclature.”

Raphael could feel heat climb up his neck and spread on his face like lava. Why did he have to ask? He hooked two fingers behind the Windsor knot in his tie and pulled, suddenly feeling suffocated by the ugly-ass uniform and everything that came with it.

“Awful, aren’t they?” Magnus flipped the length of Raphael’s tie between his index and middle finger. “It’s like they’re trying to get us used to being on a very tight leash.”

Raphael noticed that Magnus wore his tie loose, with a haphazard knot dangling in front of his sternum.

“I hate the colors,” he admitted.

“That’s because they were chosen to flatter their pasty-ass complexions.”

Raphael followed Magnus’s dancing fingers to the two rows right in front of the stage. The seats everyone else had avoided were now taken by a gang of eight, four boys and four girls.

“Who are they?”

Magnus somehow slid even closer and placed his lips right by Raphael’s ear, making him want to crawl out of his skin.

“The blond bad boy at the end of the front row is Jace Herondale. Next to him is Helen Blackthorn, then her special friend Aline Penhallow, and next to her is Isabelle Lightwood. Notice a theme?”

Every family name Magnus had mentioned belonged to a building on campus, and the boy named Jace was probably directly related to the Headmistress. Raphael nodded, and Magnus made a sarcastic little affirmative noise in his throat before he continued.

“Second row features Sebastian Verlac and Jonathan Morgenstern, Lydia Branwell and… Oh. My. If that’s who I think it is, someone grew up tall and hot.” He shook himself. “Sorry. What I meant to say was, I think that’s Alexander Lightwood, back from an extended stay in rehab. Excuse me, Europe.”

Raphael closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The concept of high school royalty wasn’t new to him. Despite that, his previous school was an all-boys Catholic school where guys like Magnus and “special friends” like Helen and Aline simply didn’t exist.

The absence of his best friend Lily hit Raphael like a sucker punch in the ribs. She would have put herself between him and Magnus and provided the snarky quips that Raphael could never come up with on his own. Instead, Raphael swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded dumbly.

Headmistress Herondale’s sharp order of “Dismissed!” unexpectedly saved him from having to try to say something clever.

There was a cacophony of noise as everyone got up from their chairs at the same time and broke into disparate conversations. Raphael wanted to use the opportunity to get away, but Magnus made it impossible, sticking to his side like glitter glue.

“What’s your first class?”

“I don’t know.” Raphael shrugged and pulled out his phone to check. “AP Physics?”

“Bummer. Are you in AP Chem?” Magnus nearly climbed on him to get a peek at the screen.

“No.”

While Raphael tried to squirm out of his grip, Magnus opened his mouth to say something else but he never got the chance.

“Magnus!”

A sharp female voice barked somewhere behind them. It belonged to a tall black girl who stalked up the gravel path like a soldier. Her eyes were narrowed to the point that all you could see were the thick, long lashes, and the tiny braids in her elaborate up-do rustled with every resolute thump of her heavy boots on the ground.

Magnus froze and held Raphael stiffly to his side. “Don’t move. Pretty sure her vision is based on movement.”

“Where have you been?” The girl stopped right in front of them and made a disgusted noise in her throat. “Ugh, you look like you just crawled out of bed … and not your bed.”

Her nimble fingers flew through Magnus’s hair, fixed his collar, and straightened his tie, all before Magnus had a chance to even raise his hands in protest.

“Catarina, stop fussing,” Magnus whined.

“I will if you stop showing up to morning assembly disheveled and reeking of sex.”

“I do not reek of sex,” Magnus insisted, only to turn wide eyes on Raphael. “Do I?”

Raphael took an involuntary deep breath. He had no idea what sex smelled like, but Magnus smelled like sage and spearmint chewing gum.

“No?”

“Don’t sound so hesitant,” Magnus complained and sniffed at himself. “No, I’m fine.”

“Who’s he?” Catarina asked, pointing a finger at Raphael before she turned her head to muster him like he was trying to join the army.

“Weren’t you paying attention?” Magnus teased. “He’s Raphael Santiago from New Hav—”

“New York,” Raphael interrupted sharply. “I’m Raphael Santiago from Harlem, New York City. My parents were Antonio and Guadalupe Santiago.”

Magnus muttered something under his breath that sounded like, “Prepare to die.”

“What?” Raphael’s vision turned dark.

“Sorry, cinna-bun.” Magnus snickered. “You were having a very ‘Inigo Montoya’ moment there.”

The death of his parents was not the punchline of a joke. Raphael exploded.

“Fuck you!” He roared and pushed Magnus away from him. “They meant everything to me. You might not give a shit about family, asshole, but if you ever – ever – joke about their death again, I will kill you.” His hands were shaking, his heart was pounding, and he could barely see through the darkness blurring his vision.

“Whoa, shit. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Good going, dipshit.” Catarina slapped Magnus upside the head.

“I had no idea.” Magnus flapped his hands in distress. “Honestly, Raphael, I would never have made that joke if I’d known. I swear. Please, let me make it up to you?”

Make it up to him? This wasn’t like Magnus had accidentally spilled a drink on his shirt or stepped on his toes. Raphael hoped the expression on his face managed to convey what he was thinking because words, as always, failed him.

“I get it,” Magnus said, and his quiet voice for once lacked any purr or drawl. He met Raphael’s gaze head on, all playfulness vanished like it had never existed. “I lost my mom when I was nine.”

Raphael knew he was telling the truth. The loss was carved on Magnus’s soft, rounded features, older and more subdued than Raphael’s own pain, but there all the same. He accepted the apology with a stiff nod.

It took Magnus less than five seconds to drop the shroud of glamour back over his face and break out in a brilliant smile.

“I pick him,” he announced, firmly cupping his hands around Raphael’s shoulders.

“Excuse me?” Raphael shook his head, confused.

“Are you sure?” Catarina sounded skeptical. “You just screwed up big time, magpie. Maybe he doesn’t want to be picked.”

Raphael was losing his patience, overwhelmed by Magnus and Catarina’s ability to switch gears so quickly. Lily could have kept up with them, which reminded him that she wasn’t there, which only irritated him more.

“What are you talking about?”

“You, cinna-bun.” Magnus booped the tip of his nose. “Every year since Sophomore, Catarina and I each pick one person whom we take under our wing and raise to the heights of Olympus, using the considerable powers of our popularity and style. This year, I pick you. You’ll be my final project, my pièce de résistance, David to my Michelangelo.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Oh, don’t be a spoilsport. If you don’t let me pick you, they’ll assign Underhill as your student mentor and you will d—” Magnus cut himself off, switched gears again, and continued in a sultry drawl. “You will be so bored you’ll come back begging me to pick you.”

Catarina snickered. “That’s a challenge if I ever heard one.”

Raphael clenched his jaw. “I don’t beg.”

Magnus pouted, furrowed his brows, and widened his eyes in a creepily convincing impression of a cajoling puss-in-boots. Raphael rattled off his father’s favorite expletives under his breath and looked to heaven for patience and guidance.

He was stuck at this school for the foreseeable future without any of his friends. Aside from Father Aldertree, Magnus was the only person who had approached him, and it seemed that despite his overbearing personality, there was a genuine soul underneath it all who at least was able to partially understand what Raphael was going through.

“Fine.”

“Wonderful!” Magnus actually jumped on his heels and clapped his hands. “But first things first, we gotta get you to class. You do not want to be late for AP Physics with Ms. Graymark. That woman is fierce. And let me see your schedule so I can figure out if we have any free periods at the same time.”

Catarina remained behind in the middle of the gravel path. “And what am I supposed to do?”

Magnus looked back over his shoulder. “Find your own pick. Time’s ticking. Only two weeks till FF.” He rolled his hand in an elegant shooing motion.

Classes were not significantly different from Raphael’s old school. The plethora of individual styles of clothing on his new teachers took some getting used to, but the basic personality types were by and large the same. He made a mental note to steer clear of the I-just-wanna-be-your-pal Econ teacher.

Raphael went through the first part of the day on autopilot, walking into the mess hall around 11:30 am because his schedule said so. He accepted his tray of food without looking at it and picked a solitary spot near the windows.

It turned out he did share the same lunch hour as Magnus and Catarina when they suddenly surrounded him. A loaded food tray clattered down next to his on either side. Magnus dropped onto the chair to Raphael’s left while Cat scraped her chair closer to him on the right.

“I picked someone,” she announced proudly.

“That was quick,” commented Magnus as he reached for his glass of orange juice.

“It was divine intervention, really. A sign from God.” She fluttered her hand and reached around Raphael with cat-like speed to snatch the brownie from Magnus’s tray.

“Hey!” Magnus protested. “I wanted that!”

Raphael pushed his tray closer to him. “You can have mine.”

“Thanks, cinna-bun, you’re the best.” Magnus kissed the air in his direction and snatched the brownie from his tray. “So, who’d you pick?” he asked Catarina with a glare as she shoved Magnus’s brownie into her mouth.

“Phy-mon Loo-iph.”

“Try that again with less than a pound in your mouth.”

Catarina crossed her eyes at Magnus and somehow managed to stick her tongue out without getting brownie everywhere. Then she gulped down the food with a bit of juice and repeated herself more clearly.

“Simon Lewis,” she said. “We have Comp Lit together and he dropped his pencils in front of me.”

Magnus rolled his eyes and even Raphael couldn’t stop himself from raising his brows with a grimace of pity and disbelief.

“You pick the guy who’s trying to upskirt you on his first day?”

“No! That’s the thing.” She bounced with excitement, stifling a cackle. “It was a genuine accident. Like he didn’t drop a pencil, he dropped all his pencils. We’re talking dozens of them. He must be an artist or something. I don’t know. Anyway, he got so flustered, he banged his head on the desk, twice, and the whole time he’s babbling about how he’s not looking up my skirt and he didn’t mean to and I swear he had his eyes legit squeezed shut, trying to fish for his pencils blind. It was so damn cute. How could I not pick him?”

Magnus and Raphael exchanged a look.

Magnus sighed exaggeratedly. “Cat has this thing for lost causes. If they allowed pets here, she’d be the one with a zoo full of strays stashed in her room.”

“Not fair,” Cat grumbled. “Plus, he’s hot, too. Like nerd-hot. I don’t know, it’s something about the way he wears his glasses, maybe? Anyway, he has the biggest brown puppy eyes and I’m pretty sure there’s a toned body under that uniform. I’ll find out when we go shopping.”

Magnus snickered. “The poor boy. Does he even know you picked him yet?”

Cat bit her lip and shoved a fork full of macaroni and cheese in her mouth. She looked altogether too interested in her food for a moment. Raphael knew that expression, had seen it on Lily’s face a million times when she hadn’t thought one of her crazy plans all the way through.

He chuckled. Then he caught himself and quickly sobered up, feeling guilty.

“Hey, that was a real smile.” Of course, Magnus couldn’t just let it go. “Nay, a whole chuckle!”

Raphael sank low in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

Magnus flashed his eyes at Catarina, drawing attention to the thick lines of guy-liner that emphasized their shape.

“So, what? Were you just planning to sneak up behind him, drop a hood over his head, and kidnap him to the mall this weekend?”

“No!” she protested, shoving a few more bites of food in her mouth. “I’ll figure it out,” she mumbled. Her umber cheeks suddenly developed a deep cherry undertone. “God, I’m starving.”

“Here.” Raphael pushed his tray in her direction, putting her out of her misery. “You can have mine. I wasn’t hungry anyway.”

“Thanks, babe,” she said with a genuine smile and pulled his tray in front of her.

Magnus drummed his fingers against his chin and pursed his lips in a dramatic fashion.

“Oh, I know!” he suddenly exclaimed, a spark of something truly wicked in his eyes. “Invite him to my party tonight. Bring him as your plus one. A couple drinks, a wink, a nudge, maybe a hug against your ample, loving bosom. He’ll be yours before he knows what happened.”

Raphael’s eyes froze in a hard stare as he furrowed his brows at Magnus. He couldn’t understand how Magnus talked so casually about breaking the rules and about Cat’s body. The only bosoms that ever got mentioned at full volume around Raphael’s old school belonged to Jesus Christ or the Holy Virgin.

Cat didn’t seem fazed. Her hand flew around Raphael to smack Magnus in the shoulder and she rolled her eyes.

“You know you’re just jealous you don’t have the same awesome powers my boobs can wield.”

“Oh, honey, you know I do. My powers just happen to be farther due south.” Magnus waggled his brows.

Raphael felt the lava crawl up his neck and all over his face. He brought a hand up against his forehead and reached for his phone with the other. Lunch had to be over soon.

“Don’t be embarrassed, cinna-bun,” Magnus purred in his ear. “You’ll get used to us. Now, tell me, what house are you in? Just so I know where to pick you up tonight.”

Raphael glared through his fingers. “I’m not going to some unsanctioned party. I almost got a demerit last night for staying out past curfew as it is.”

Magnus interlaced his fingers, pulled out the cajoling puss-in-boots eyes, and wheedled. “Please? I promise it’ll be fun, and small, and you won’t get caught.”

“No.” Raphael shook his head firmly.

“But—"

“Don’t push him, magpie,” Cat said sharply. “You heard him say no.”

“Fine.” Magnus sat back with a pout that would have made a five-year-old proud. “Spoilsport.”

“Besides,” Raphael pointed out. “I already have some place I need to be tonight. I’m helping out at the chapel until 9:30.”

“Yeah, right,” Magnus drawled. “Tell me another one, choir boy.”

Raphael’s back stiffened. He had figured that Magnus wasn’t religious, but he still didn’t like the way he had made it sound.

“Wait,” Magnus said the next second. “You’re serious. This is actually a thing for you.”

Suddenly there was a nervous tension in Magnus that hadn’t been there before. He pulled back and sat up straighter, all his flirtatious behavior gone up in smoke.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” he said quietly.

“Why?” Raphael asked with an edge to his voice. “Afraid to be hanging out with a religious nut? Don’t want to be seen with a bible thumper?”

Cat choked on her food.

Magnus stiffened. His slim shoulders tightened and he blinked glittering eyes at Raphael.

“More like I’m not interested to hear I’ll burn in hell when you catch me making out with a guy.”

Raphael narrowed his eyes. “Just because I believe in God, doesn’t mean that I agree with every single one of his followers or what they said. Leviticus was just one of them, and he was wrong about shrimp and mixed fabrics, too.”

Magnus relaxed marginally. “So, we’re good?”

Raphael shrugged. “If you can keep yourself from making fun of me,” he said, glancing in Cat’s direction before he added, “or God.”

Cat looked confused for a second until her eyes widened and she realized what Raphael was referring to.

“You know,” she said, “I kinda meant that. I mean, what are the chances that I’m desperately looking for a person, and then the perfect guy, the new guy, actually sits next to me and drops a whole bunch of pencils right in front of me. There’s got to be some higher power involved in that, right?”

Raphael looked her up and down, trying to gauge how serious she was. Cat swallowed nervously and looked down at her lap. She fiddled with the collar of her perfectly straight uniform and revealed a delicate gold chain around her neck. A tiny gold cross dangled from the end.

“Team Jesus, represent,” she mumbled quickly and shoved the cross back under her shirt. “But don’t make a big deal out of it. Okay?”

He raised one eyebrow, looking at her skeptically, but there was a tiny part of him that felt better. Relieved. Like he wasn’t all alone.

“Okay.”

The second half of the day passed by in a blur of lectures and assignments. Raphael skipped dinner in favor of hiding in his room, not interested in a repeat of listening to Cat and Magnus chatter about the party or Magnus trying to not-so-subtly get Raphael’s dorm info out of him.

At a quarter past eight, Raphael left Blackthorn Hall and made his way to the chapel to meet Father Aldertree. He had no idea what sort of help the father needed at the chapel on a daily basis, but Raphael was happy to have an excuse to spend time at the church. He still wasn’t ready to talk to God, but at least he could show that he hadn’t turned his back.


Chapter 62

September 5th, 1994

Hogwarts

If there was anything to be said about Mad-Eye Moody's teaching methods, it was that they were certainly 'unconventional.' From the very first day in DADA, the eccentric man had made it abundantly clear that he didn't give a rats arse about the Ministry approved curriculum and would be teaching them more about the dark arts than how to defend against them. Not that Harry could complain, considering all of the illegal and highly dangerous spells he'd learned on his own over the years.

At the end of the first week, Moody introduced the class to the unforgivables. Moody's chosen victim was a small bird with black wings and dark eyes. It was sat innocently in a cage atop his desk at the beginning of class and most didn't notice the timid little thing's presence until the professor brought attention to it by flicking open the cage. The bird was in the middle of its desperate escape when it was hit by a plume of hazy yellow smoke and changed courses, slowly flying back to Moody's desk.

From there, the wizard's mismatched eyes filled with wild anticipation as his fun began and he made the bird fly all over the room. It nipped at fingertips and tittered cheerfully in ears, eliciting a wonderful chorus of laughter and shouts of surprise. At one point, it even attacked a Hufflepuff's hair with its small wings, ruffling the carefully styled locks much to the squawked indignation of the girl. Harry was one of the few who watched in apprehension, knowing that the Imperius curse was no laughing matter, it could make people do horrible things, and that there was a reason it was called an 'unforgivable.'

Something darkened in Moody's expression as he forced the bird over to a basin of water and it flapped helplessly over the still surface, unable to fight against the curse. Laughter dried up quickly at the panicked chirps coming from the small creature.

"Shall I make it drown itself? I could." The simplicity of the statement had the entire class slowly realizing the power of the curse and just how dangerous it could be. After a moment of silence, Moody brought the bird back to his desk and looked out over the room of pale faces that didn't meet his eyes. "Some might say that the imperius curse is the least harmful of the three, but I'd beg to differ. Every day, we take advantage of our free will, unable to imagine what it would be like to be imprisoned within our own bodies, completely at the mercy of another."

Moody looked down at the bird on his desk, still under the influence of the unforgivable.

"Does anyone what the next one is?" Moody spat out in distaste as he scanned the room. Knowing where he was going with that line of questions. Harry spoke after Moody prompted with an impatient gesture.

"The cruciatus curse, sir," Harry answered blankly, hoping that he was wrong about what might happen next. Harry hated unnecessary suffering and especially hated the Unforgivables after what had happened during the World Cup. He would not react well if Moody tried to torture the bird, in front of a class full of near-children, no less.

"Crucio!" Harry closed his eyes as the bird he had been looking at began to screech and flap helplessly against the desk as it suffered unimaginable pain. He heard the startled and distressed complaints of his peers at the gruesome display, even though their 'instructor' seemed to be lost within his own mind as he tortured the innocent creature.

Realizing that 'Moody' would not be stopping any time soon, Harry took matters into his own hands. Not moving an inch, Harry sent a wandless cutting curse at the bird's neck causing the little creature to crumple onto the desk, suddenly still and put out of his misery. Moody jolted, shock momentarily sparking in his face before he seemed to come back to himself and clear his throat as he realized what he'd done.

Moody looked up at Harry, then, something unreadable in his eyes as the air slowly warmed. Harry's face remained completely blank under the professor's scrutiny. Their staring was interrupted by one of the other students speaking up in the otherwise silent class.

"Professor, does the cruciatus curse usually kill its victims like that?"

"Only if the victim is very weak or ill before-hand and after a long period of time." He answered distractedly. The same student spoke up again.

"Was the bird sick?"

At this, Moody's eyes shifted to a chilling glacial green that pierced through him and left a cold sweat on the back of his neck.

"Perhaps." Was all the man said before returning to his lesson—though he seemed rather distant and a bit shocked for the rest of it—choosing to teach the last unforgivable only in theory since his test subject was already gone.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The week following was far more interesting than the first, seeing as Moody made it his duty to make sure that his students knew how to actually fight off an imperius curse. After the rather grim note, the previous lesson had been left on, Moody had decided to once again aim for a more light-hearted approach and kept the commands he made of the students under the curse quite silly. Such as, jumping on one foot or making animal noises.

Harry lingered near the back of the class, trying—unsuccessfully—to go unnoticed, as he despised the idea of being under the influence of the curse. Harry would be the first to admit that he had problems relinquishing control to another. If it could be helped, he knew he would never do as such unless it was to someone he completely trusted. And he certainly did not trust Moody that much!

Eventually, though, Moody called Harry forward with an interesting light in his eyes. Harry barely had time to prepare himself before the Imperius rolled onto him

Harry could feel the insistent press of Moody's will against his own, but his mental shields where unyielding and he remained outwardly unaffected. Professor Moody grinned at the challenge and doubled down on Harry. A faint sheen of sweat formed on Harry's forehead as he continued to resist. Harry had very little practice with the imperius curse—which meant none—and so he was putting unnecessary amounts of energy and magic into resisting the cruse. He was doing it with brute magical force, and it was already beginning to drain him.

He only technically needed to shield his mind, but he couldn't risk shifting his magic while the blunt edge of the curse was pressing in on him. The briefest moment of hesitation could allow Moody in to control him. By the time Moody finally relented, he was also sweating and a bit red-faced as he grinned almost victoriously. Harry was breathing a little heavy and had to quickly swipe the sweat from his brow, but was composed once again after only a minute or two. Moody had boasted to the class about Harry's success in resisting and even made Harry share some techniques he'd used.

Well, that was fun Harry thought.

Moody's approach to teaching DADA was undeniably rough and brazen. Harry had even heard that one of the Gryffindor students had had a particularly hard time with the initial unforgivables lesson and had to be comforted after class. However, nobody dared go and complain to their head of house or another professor about the unconventional methods. Because, despite the slight danger and uncomfortably gruesome topics, none of them could deny that Moody was an amazing instructor. Moody didn't tiptoe around anything because of their age and was working hard to make sure that they knew as much as possible.


By the time morning came around, Camilo's eyes had returned to normal and he'd managed to get some more sleep than before.

This time, when they gently coaxed him awake, he didn't panic and immediately shift.

Pepa took that as a good sign, showering her hijo in love and affection, and making him laugh.

The sound was like music to her ears and if it wasn't so important to get Camilo eating regularly again, she'd cuddle with him all day in the blanket fort Felix had helped him build the night before.

Seeing him cuddled up in a nest of blankets and pillows with Lola secure in his arms had been enough to bring tears to her eyes.

She still could hardly believe that her baby was home. She'd been so afraid to go to sleep. What if she did and woke up only to find out that it had all been a dream?

That would break her.

Eventually, Felix had convinced her to join him and Camilo in the fort and waking up to find her hijo's peaceful sleeping face right there helped calm her initial panic.

"How are you feeling mijo?" She asked as they got ready for the day. "Are your eyes better?"

He nodded before briefly disappearing under his ruana as he tugged it over his head. He'd changed clothes again, keeping to the familiar colours of yellow and brown.

He looked better at least. Less like he was about to collapse if the wind blew wrong.

His ruana hid most of how thin he was except for his face and he held his chameleon plush close to his chest.

That had been a brilliant move on Felix’s part. The toy meant a lot to Camilo and he hadn't had it for two years. The comfort it brought him was worth learning about the state of her baby's room.

She hoped they could fix that soon.

"Are you ready?" Felix asked gently. "You don't have to go if you don't want to. We can have breakfast up here and Dolores will join us in a heartbeat."

Camilo shook his head though. "I want to eat with mi familia," he mumbled into the top of the plush's head.

Pepa smiled gently at him and walked over to wrap her arm around his shoulders.

"And they will be thrilled to see you there," she reassured.

He leaned into her side and smiled up at her. His smiles were still a little dim but they were more frequent at least.

Felix moved to stand on Camilo's other side and ruffled his hair.

"Let's get some breakfast hmm?" He suggested.

They walked out of the room together and Pepa felt like she was walking on air.

Casita flipped her tiles at their feet and Camilo smiled a little.

"Hola Casita. I missed you," he murmured.

Their house shuffled her roof tiles happily and Pepa knew without a doubt that if anyone tried to touch Camilo right now, Casita would physically throw them out a second-story window.

As they moved towards the stairs which Casita helpfully shifted towards them,  Camilo stumbled to a stop.

They looked down at him in concern before following his shocked gaze.

Pepa swallowed hard as she looked at the dark door.

"It went dark right after you went missing," Felix told him quietly. "Locked up too. Casita only opened it last night so that I could get Lola."

Camilo looked shaken by the sight so Pepa nudged him.

"Just gives me an excuse to cuddle with you more," she told him in a whisper and was relieved when he smiled a bit in response.

He glanced at the door one more time before they headed down the stairs.

The kitchen was noisy as usual, already bustling with activity.

Camilo leaned a little further into Pepa's side as they got closer but he didn't hesitate so they walked in.

Dolores was immediately there, smiling at the sight of the chameleon toy before she tugged Camilo into a hug. He returned it happily while Julieta came over with Antonio.

"Gracias," Pepa told her hermana gratefully as she accepted her youngest.

When she looked back at her niños, she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Camilo was already craning his head to try and see his hermanito.

He was too adorable.

Felix shooed them all to the table where Camilo sat next to Pepa with Dolores on his other side.

Felix sat next to their hija and Pepa couldn't blame him for wanting to keep their niños between them.

Camilo was still trying to peer at Antonio so Pepa shifted a bit to let him get a better look.

She was doing her best to ignore her mamá for the moment. She didn't want to lose her temper again.

Isabela, Luisa and Mirabel greeted Camilo with beaming smiles that he did his best to return before focusing on Antonio again.

"Morning Antonio," he whispered to the curious baby.

Antonio waved his arms at Camilo with a wide grin. It was enough to draw a proper smile from Camilo again.

Julieta quickly got everyone seated and eating and Pepa didn't miss how she'd prepared Camilo's favourite breakfast.

Her hijo was quick to tuck into the food and Pepa couldn't be happier.

Her family was together and eating at the same table again.

A quiet part of her mind pointed out that Bruno wasn't there so it wasn't the whole family.

She didn't want to ruin Camilo's first family breakfast back though, so she pushed that thought aside.

"Everyone's back together," Dolores murmured.

Pepa glanced at her to find her staring intensely at the family tree. A little odd but it had been a hectic time lately. Dolores was still just sixteen so it was understandable if she acted a little oddly after all of that.

"Sí," she murmured, heart heavy in her chest as she thought of Bruno.

She couldn't help but wonder if he would have seen the danger coming if he'd stayed.

She couldn't help but wonder if they would have blamed him for any vision he did have.

She'd never know.

And it was her own fault.

Behind the kitchen wall, a man in a tattered ruana covered his mouth to muffle his relieved sobs at the sight of his sobrino.

Alive.

Camilo was alive.