2004
Two years after Yoru's enrolled in school
Second floor classroom
1:34 PM
"-and softly blow into the recorder." A cacophony of sharp notes split across the room right after Yoru's music teacher – Ms. Smalls – finished. "Softly!"
"Let's go again." The girl looked around herself, her eyes spotting a canvas of blank faces as her gaze swept across the room. "Blow like you're slowly blowing up a balloon."
Another noise reverberated across the room, quieter and less harsh this time.
"Better." The brunette nodded. "Now, I'm going to show you the 'G' note."
It's been two years since Yoru's been enrolled into her elementary school. She's now eight and in third grade, which means classes like art and music are now a part of her schedule. The girl's school only had so many art and music teachers, so her grade was split in two halves: one that had music and another that had art.
"Put your thumb on the bottom hole…" The music teacher continued her lesson. "And put three fingers on the first three holes. Now, softly blow into it."
'Two years…' Yoru thought as another stream of notes flowed through the room, much less sharp than the previous one.
It's also been two years since she'd last seen Ai. The child didn't want to bother John about it, but every night spent without her sister feels like another brick had fallen onto her shoulder.
'No, bad thoughts.' The girl shook her head. 'There is a time and place for them and that's not right now. Focus on what's happening right now and what I feel about it.'
She continued blowing into the recorder alongside the rest of her class, repeating the same three notes Ms. Smalls had taught the class until some semblance of accuracy and cohesion was achieved. B, A, G. B, A, G.
"That was good everyone!" Yoru hummed as Ms. Smalls praised the class. "Now, we're going to do something different. Let's all do a G note, but blow quickly like this!"
Instead of blowing one sharp note, the teacher blew two quick notes in rapid succession twice.
'Music class is… kind of fun.' The girl mused as she maneuvered her fingers and blew into her recorder like her teacher demonstrated. 'It isn't like PE fun where I run around and play games, but more… like calm fun.'
"Good!" The brunette clapped her hands when most of the class blew the correct note. Now, can everyone do the same thing for the 'A' note?"
'I want to do this more.' The Japanese child continued her thoughts once she placed her middle finger down on the recorder. 'Maybe I can ask Ms. Smalls if I can do more of this.'
Yoru blew into her plastic instrument, letting her rapid-fire A notes float through the air alongside the rest of her classmates. The teacher praised the gaggle of kids once more before the bell rang just seconds later.
"Alright everybody!" The girl removed the recorder from her lips and placed it into its leather case. "Let's pack up and line up at the door!"
The violet-haired child zipped the leather container shut and tossed it into her backpack before making her way toward the line forming at the exit.
It took another minute or so before Ms. Smalls let the class go. But when the woman finally gave permission, some all but sprinted out of the room to meet their regular teacher.
However, Yoru doesn't follow them. Instead, she walked over to the brown-haired woman.
"Ms. Smalls?" The girl called out. "Can I ask you something?"
Her English has gotten much better in the two years since she's been enrolled. The hours the child spent studying the language both inside and outside of school had quickly brought her up to speed with her classmates.
"What is it, Yoru?" The educator quickly glanced at the door.
"Is there a way for me to do more music?" Yoru asked.
"Our school has a band." Ms. Smalls answered. "But that's only for fourth and fifth-graders."
"Oh." The Wick's gaze fell on her shoes. "So, I can only play the recorder in music class?"
"Well, I can get a music club set up." The brunette admitted upon seeing the girl's gloomy expression. "But I don't know how many students would want to join."
"Clubs are after school, right?" The woman nodded at the question.
"Yes." Ms. Smalls affirmed. "They're usually on Fridays from two to three."
"I think I can join." Yoru informed her teacher after she quickly sorted about her schedule. "But I need to talk to John about it."
"Maybe you can ask some of your friends." The educator suggested. "I need more than one interested person before I can ask Principal Rodreguiez to let me make the club."
"Alright." The purple-haired child nodded before looking toward the music room's door. "Thank you Ms. Smalls! I'll see you next week!"
"Alright, take care Yoru!" The woman waved goodbye to her student as she quickly made her way out of the classroom.
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End of the day
Outside of Yoru's elementary school
3:16 PM
"Yoru." John greeted his ward when she pulled the passenger door open. "How was school today?"
"It was good." Yoru responded, pulling the Lexus's door shut with a soft thunk. "I had music class."
"Was it fun?" The hitman asked as the girl buckled her seatbelt.
"Yeah, I liked it." She nodded. "Learning the notes and blowing into the recorder was fun. I want to do more, but Ms. Smalls said that the band is only for fourth and fifth graders."
"There's no club for it?" The assassin pulled out of the parking spot.
"No." The girl shook her head. "Ms. Smalls said that more than one person needs to want it before she can ask the principal."
"Hmm." John hummed. "Got anyone in mind?"
"...Maybe." Yoru took a moment to think. "I know a girl that plays the piano, but I don't know if she wants to ask Ms. Smalls about the club with me."
"Sometimes, 'maybe' is the best we get." The Soviet responded as he got onto the highway. "Better to ask and be rejected than never getting the chance to be accepted."
"Yeah, you're right." The child nodded at her guardian's answer. "I'll ask Sierra at lunch tomorrow."
The two Wicks fell into a silent lull. Yoru stared out of the car window, her eyes honing in on the various landmarks adorning the highway John is driving through. Familiar trees, buildings, and light poles zoomed by as the car cruises down the road at a firm sixty miles per hour.
Eventually, the child's eyelids grew heavy. The girl leaned her head onto the door panel, drifting off into the warm embrace of sleep.
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An hour and a half later
Outside of a theater
4:52 PM
Yoru cracked open her eyelids once the car came to a stop. She pushed herself off of the car door, doing a light stretch before rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
"This isn't the Continental." The child remarked upon looking out the window.
Instead of the triangular building she was usually dropped off at, the SUV was stopped in front of a theater. The show the establishment is running – The Rite of Spring – flanked its name: Tarkovsky Theater.
"No, it isn't." John affirmed as he stepped out of the vehicle.
"Come," He motioned for his ward to step out as well.
Yoru did as she was told, unlocking and pushing on the SUV's door before exiting the automobile.
*Be-Boop* *Tuck*
"John, why are we here?" The girl inquired right as her guardian locked the car with a beep.
"Do you remember what we talked about two weeks ago?" The Soviet began walking toward the theater.
"Umm…" The violet-eyed child racked her brain as she quickly followed John into the theater. "Is it… the one where I asked if I can become an assassin like you?"
The hitman nodded.
"Then that means…" Yoru's eyes widened. "This is where you learned everything you know. Am I gonna learn how to be like you?"
John didn't answer her this time. Instead, he motioned for her to stop when they stepped inside the venue. The Soviet then continued on toward the reception as the girl found somewhere to sit.
"Good afternoon, how may I help you?" The worker manning the front desk asked as the assassin strode closer.
"I would like to see the Director, Andrei." The man hummed upon nodding at John's request.
"She's busy at the moment, John." Andrei informed the hitman. "Are you able to wait until she finishes up?"
The assassin nodded.
"Great." The receptionist remarked. "Feel free to hang around or leave. Your номер телефона is still the same, yeah?"
John nodded once more. But as he turned to leave, the green-eyed man called out to him.
"By the way," The Soviet turned around. "Who's that ребёнок that came in with you? She yours?"
"Adopted." The bearded-man responded.
"Huh." Andrei remarked. "Wonder how that happened. I don't think fatherhood would be on your ledger."
"...It was a surprise for me too." John answered after a brief pause.
"Are you here to sign her up?" The worker crossed his fingers and leaned onto the desk.
"That depends on the Director." The ex-Marine replied.
"So the ребёнок is the one that wanted in, huh." The brunette caught the assassin's undertone. "I think I know what's happening."
John silently stared at his acquaintance.
"I don't think you have anything to worry about, John." Andrei ignored the pointed look levied at him.
"I would disagree." The hitman responded, unamused.
"Look," The receptionist raised both of his hands. "I'm just saying, either she passes or she doesn't. If she passes, she still has a decade to change her mind."
"If she decided that wetwork is for her at the end," The brown-eyed man continued. "She'll be as tough as steel and sharper than a knife. The family made you and Javier. She'll be in good hands."
"Javier is dead." The assassin frankly replied.
"... Okay, bad example." Andrei admitted rather sheepishly. "But know this, John. Your daughter has something most of us don't. She has options. She doesn't have to be stuck doing contracts for the rest of her life if she decided that it wasn't for her somewhere down the line."
"She's the type that won't stop until whatever she sets her mind to is finished." John simply responded. "I'm scared she'll burn herself out."
*Beep*
The secretary's phone beeped almost right after the hitman's admission.
"The director is ready for you." The brunette informed the former Marine after glancing at his device's front screen. "She'll be in her office."
John nodded and beckoned Yoru to follow him.
"Good luck Малышка." Andrei called out to the violet-haired girl after she passed him. "The Director isn't easy to impress."
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Outside the Director's office
John pushed open a set of cedar doors, revealing a vintage room that smelled of aged wood and alcohol. Yoru stepped into the foyer, her gaze trailing across many old, yellowed lamps and ceramic antiques. Her eyes eventually rested on the bar, where the bartender raised a brow at her entrance whilst polishing a glass.
"Hello little one." The girl stopped in her tracks. "Your name is Yoru, correct?"
"H-yes." The child stumbled, almost answering in Japanese instead of English. "My name is Yoru."
Yoru didn't even notice the woman when she walked in. Even though she was looking all across the room, the Wick didn't register the adult's presence until she had talked to her.
The African – at least, that's what the Japanese girl thought she was – looked up from her toward the back of the room.
"Jardani." She greeted the hitman as he strode toward his ward. "Long time no see."
"It's been a while, Nogi." John nodded.
"I see that you already taught her some of the basics." Though her expression remained stony, Yoru had enough experience reading her guardian to know that Nogi was pleased.
"Is the Director ready for us?" The former Marine inquired, purposefully ignoring his former classmate's comment.
"She is." The woman answered, and John started to move.
"But your daughter goes in alone." She held up her hand to stop him. "You still remember our procedures, yes?"
John stayed silent at the assassin's words.
"Go on Малышка." Nogi turned toward Yoru. "The Director is just beyond those doors."
The girl looked toward where the adult pointed at, her gaze stopping on a black door. The violet-haired child looked back at her guardian, giving him a nod before she set off for what's beyond the gate.
The smell of tobacco and aged paper were the first thing she noticed. Her eyes quickly spotted the sources of the scents. A cigar – recently put out considering its lack of a burning end – rests in a crystal ashtray and thick tomes line the shelves circling the entire room.
The Director glances at Yoru, momentarily averting her eyes from the papers in her hands. That one look made the Wick pause. It was as if she was suddenly strapped to a glass slide to be put under a microscope.
"Come here." The woman softly beckoned.
The girl did as she was told, willing her legs to bring her closer to the theater's enigmatic proprietor.
"Sit." Yoru's gaze shifted to one of the chairs directly facing the Director before taking a seat.
"You know who I am, yes?" The girl looked up to see the Soviet placed the papers in her hand flat on the desk.
"You're the director of this theater." The eight-year-old answered. "And the leader of the Ruska Roma."
"You are correct." The woman nodded. "And I assume Jardani hadn't told you more than that?"
"No, Mister Wick hadn't." The child nodded.
"... Ma'am." Yoru added soon after.
"You don't need to be that courteous toward me, Yoru." The Director let a small smile grace her lips. "We're family, after all."
"Family?" The girl tilted her head.
"Yes." The head of the Ruska Roma confirmed. "Jardani is my son, and you are his daughter. That makes you my granddaughter."
The Wick nodded. John's relation to the Director was something he never brought up. The hitman likely had his own reasons for it, so she didn't feel the need to pry.
"Now," the woman continued. "The Ruska Roma is always looking for new recruits. Had you been anyone else, I would've accepted you on the spot. I see a hunger in your eyes, a desire to be more than you currently are."
"Why didn't you?" Yoru questioned, interlacing her fingers on her lap to help stem the anxiety that started to creep like vines.
"Almost every child I have taken in has had their futures taken away from them by circumstances outside of their control." The Soviet responded. "You – on the other hand – had one potential future closed off, but Jardani had given you another."
"So, I have to wonder." A dangerous look entered the theater head's eyes. "Why are you choosing to throw away the opportunity my son has so graciously given you? Is it out of a misguided sense of justice? Or do you simply not see how fortunate you are?"
The Director's gaze made Yoru feel small. It made her feel like she was five again, helpless while she watched her mother slap Ai for spilling juice on a dress.
"I… know how lucky I am." But the girl wouldn't let herself be cowed; not again, never again. "John gave me so much, and I don't know if I should have it."
"But…" She continued, tightening her fingers' grip on each other to steel herself. "I know there are so many other kids that don't have what I had. So many are still hurting because they don't have anyone to help them."
"That is true." The Ruska Roma matriarch nodded. "But why do you care?"
Yoru pursed her lips at her callous question.
"I want to help them." The child answered. "I want to be strong enough to give them a chance. Just like what John did for me."
"There are many others who're suffering like you once did." The Director acknowledged. "Children in broken homes, children without parents, children whose innocence have been ripped away from them one way or another. But you are just one girl. You cannot help them all."
"However," The woman tilted her head at the Japanese girl. "You still haven't answered my question. Why do you care?"
Yoru closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, holding in the scented air inside her lungs for a couple of moments before letting it go.
"If I can help at least one," The eight-year-old opened her eyes. "Then I'll be happy. And I like being happy."
The Soviet studied her adoptive granddaughter's face after her admission. Yoru bristled under the Director's scrutiny, but didn't falter. Exactly who that 'one' is left unsaid, but Ruska Roma head had a good idea of who the girl was referring to.
"I see." The woman finally broke the tense silence that had formed between the two. "Welcome to the family, Yoru."
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John looked toward the door right as Yoru stepped out. From the way her eyes were shimmering with excitement, there's no doubt that the Director had judged her worthy to be a part of the family.
The hitman stood up to receive his ward as she strolled over toward him.
"Jardani." The Director called out.
The assassin looked up at his adoptive mother.
"I'd like to have a talk." The woman clarified her intentions.
John nodded before looking down at Yoru.
"Can you wait here?" The girl nodded, and the ex-soldier made his way into the Director's office.
"You have a question." The woman remarked – a statement, not a question – as they stepped into her office.
"I do." John responded as the head of the Ruska Roma sat down.
"Then ask, Jardani." The Director beckoned.
"Why did you accept her?" The hitman took a seat of his own.
"You see it too, don't you?" The question was rhetorical, but was one that needed to be said aloud.
"I do." The assassin would be blind or simply willfully ignorant to not to. He was too experienced – too bloodied – to be either.
"There is conviction in her eyes." The theater proprietor intoned. "Your daughter knows what she wants, and she needs a little push to start to reach for it."
"She wouldn't back down, even if that means flying in the face of your wishes." John solemnly nodded at the older Soviet's words.
"I didn't want her to go down the same path I did." The former Marine admitted. "This life isn't easy to leave."
"You're afraid the underworld will break her." The Director observed.
"Yoru isn't fragile, but she's not invincible." The well-dressed man said. "I'm afraid of what will happen when she has nothing more left to give to a world that only knows how to take."
"Yoru is a good girl." The woman noted. "But one with a heart of glass."
"However, so long as you keep the pillars holding her up from shattering," She continued. "Then the business will never break her."
"How do I do that?" John had all but demanded the answer.
"Some of them you can't control." The Director began just as disappointment shadowed the assassin's eyes. "Whether those break or not relies completely on her."
"But luckily for you," The Soviet looked the hitman dead in the eye. "Her strongest pillar is one that you could."
"What is it?" He asked, a spark of hope leapt into his expression.
"You, Jardani." The Ruska Roma matriarch pointed at her son, almost exactly where his heart is. "You will be what'll stop her from shattering."
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Three weeks later
Ruska Roma sparring room
5:17 PM
*THUD*
"Ahack!" Yoru let out a wet noise as her back slammed into the floor.
The child looked up at her opponent, a fellow student named Liza. The Russian's dirty-blonde hair slapped against her chest as she recovered from throwing the Wick to the ground.
Before Yoru could get back up, Liza jumped onto her. The violet-haired girl could only cover herself with her arms as the older kid unleashed a flurry of blows.
*Thwap*
*Thwap*
*Thwap*
"That is enough." Nogi called out, but not before the blonde's fist landed another blow onto Yoru's ear. "Seperate."
Liza dismounted from the Wick and retreated back to her corner. Yoru rolled to her side and tried to push herself up. The child's arms gave out from under her, too battered from her spar with the older girl to serve as proper supports.
Yoru grit her teeth, pushing through the pain to try once more. This time, she was able to get to her feet and put her arms up in the stance Nogi had shown her weeks prior.
*BEEP*
'Everything hurts.' The Wick thought to herself as Liza moved toward her following the starting bell.
The padded ground did little to absorb Yoru's prior fall. Every blow that came from the other girl's gloved fists stung as the violet-eyed child flexed her forearms.
'But,' Her eyes narrowed as the Russian stopped just outside of her range. 'I've been through worse.'
Liza snapped a roundhouse kick to Yoru's leg. The girl lifted her foot, letting the force of the kick disperse into hard shin bone instead of soft muscle.
The Wick then planted her foot down and quickly slid into her opponent's range. It was a risky move, exchanging stability for a quick burst of speed. Liza had taken advantage of that just last round, baiting her younger classmate into dashing in before using her unstable footing to throw her to the ground.
However, the blonde had strayed too close this time, being only one step beyond Yoru's range instead of two.
The Japanese girl swung, her fist barely missing the taller girl's chin. That didn't deter Yoru. She continued, unleashing a mixture of jabs, hooks, and uppercuts at Liza, forcing the Russian onto the backfoot to avoid those blows.
But the Wick's assault can't last forever. Eventually, one of her crosses went wide. Combined with her stamina running empty from several rounds of intense sparring, Yoru couldn't cover her opening in time for her opponent's counterpunch.
Liza's fist crashed into the eight-year-old's cheek. The other girl wasn't strong enough to knock the violet-haired child off balance, but that blow was enough to disorientate.
Yoru's next punch stalled as her brain bounced around her skill. By the time she could muster enough clarity to respond, Liza had stolen her tempo and gone on the offense.
The blonde shot her arm out, looking to wrap her fingers around the younger child's gi or her arms in preparation for a takedown. Yoru managed to dodge the first two grabs, but her opponent's longer strides meant that she quickly caught up to the Wick.
By that point, the fight was over. Liza was older, taller, and – most importantly – stronger than Yoru. Struggle as she might, the violet-eyed girl couldn't find a way to overpower her.
*THUD*
Her back hit the floor, and her breath was driven out of her chest once more.
"That's enough." This time, Nogi stopped the fight before it could escalate into another ground and pound. "Go shower and change. You two are finished for the day."
Yoru only coughed in response, nodding before flipping onto her knees. She stood, stumbling almost drunkenly before regaining enough balance to make her way to the locker rooms.
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Twenty minutes later
Yoru let out a shuddering breath as she plopped down on one of the locker room benches. She grabbed the towel draped around her neck and began drying her water-logged hair.
It's been a couple of days since Nogi determined she was good enough to begin sparring with others in her age group, but the girl felt like she hasn't made any progress.
Every class ended the same way: with her sprawled out on the floor, exhausted and sore all over. It doesn't matter whether she's doing ballet or sambo, she's never good enough to please the Director or beat any of her classmates.
The child was pushed to her limits every time she stepped foot in the theater. Her feet and legs ached from the long hours of dancing. Her arms and back uncontrollably twitched in exhaustion from the many drills and exercises Nogi put her through.
But did all those hours of effort and pain bear fruit? No, none that Yoru can see. The Wick sighed before stuffing the wet towel and her sweat-soaked clothing into a plastic bag. She didn't expect that training would be easy – John and the Director had made it very clear it wouldn't – but the girl didn't expect to not make progress at all.
Yoru walked out of the locker room, but right before she could cross the doorway, she caught sight of something in her peripherals.
"Nogi?" She turned to look at her trainer.
"You need to be more aware of your surroundings." The woman chided. "That was sloppy."
"I'm sorry, Nogi." The violet-haired child bowed her head.
"Don't be sorry." Nogi responded with the wisdom and frostiness of a glacier. "Be better."
Yoru nodded and looked up.
"Do… Do you want to talk to me?" The Wick hesitantly asked.
A thousand things flashed across the girl's mind when her teacher nodded. What could the instructor want to talk to her about?
'Don't tell me…' Panic clutched her heart like a clawed fist. 'She's… forcing me to go?'
Even though Yoru didn't stay at the theater's dormitories like all of her classmates, rumors had a way of making it to everyone. Whispers about how some not so great children disappear into the night, never to be seen roaming the halls ever again.
What happened to them? It depends on who you ask. The more hopeful ones say that they have been adopted out, found a new family that doesn't train them to wield weapons. The more cynical, however, have darker theories.
"Your frustration." Nogi began. "Don't think I haven't noticed it."
"Frustration?" The girl tilted her head.
"Frustration." The woman repeated. "You know what that is, right?"
"Yes," The Japanese child nodded.
A beat passed.
"Is it… bad?" Yoru hesitantly asked.
"It could be." The instructor's expression betrayed nothing.
The girl remained silent.
"Tell me," Nogi continued when she realized her student wasn't going to speak. "What is causing that fire in your head?"
"I…" Yoru absentmindedly gripped her forearms as she tried to think of an answer.
Nogi stayed quiet, giving the Wick room to respond.
"I'm angry at… myself." The child admitted after a lot of thought.
"Why?" The instructor raised yet another question.
"Because…" The violet-haired girl pursed her lips. "Because I can't beat her."
"Why do you think that you can beat her?" Yoru blinked.
"It's been only three weeks since you were enrolled." The African continued when her student stayed quiet. "And three days since your first spar."
"I don't feel like I'm getting better." The child admitted. "I've only sparred with Liza and I never got a good hit on her."
"That is to be expected," Nogi remarked. "I would be very disappointed in her if she becomes that sloppy."
"She's been here for four years and has two extra years on you." The trainer asserted as Yoru looked downtrodden at her words. "Your training is barely a drop in a bucket compared to hers."
"You have talent." There was almost a ghost of a smile on the woman's face. "Worry about sharpening yourself first before caring about how others cut."
Nogi turned and disappeared into the hallway's shadows, leaving the Wick to stew on her words.
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The next day
School cafeteria
11:49 AM
Yoru threaded her left leg through the gap between the lunch table's flat seat and top before swinging her other limb though the same opening.
"Hi Yoru!" The girl looked up.
Sierra greeted the Japanese child with a bright smile as she set down her tray.
"Hi Sierra." Yoru returned the greeting to her fellow club member. "How are you?"
"I'm fine, thank you very much." The bubbly brunette replied.
The Wick nodded at her classmate's answer before removing her backpack from her shoulders and placing it beside her.
"Ooh, what are you eating?" Sierra curiously asked as Yoru began setting out glass tupperware.
"Just some food John packed for me." The Japanese girl turned toward the American as she took out a thermos.
"Your dad cooks?" The violet-eyed child paused at that comment.
"He's…" Yoru stopped herself; the Soviet was her father by law, after all. "Yeah, he does."
"What'd he make?" Her classmate asked yet another question, not noticing the Wick's slip-up.
"Some kasha, fish, and pea soup." The girl grabbed onto Sierra's question like a lifeline. "Oh, he also packed me some tea."
"Hmm. That sounds nice." The American nodded. "I wish my mom would make lunch for me. Cafeteria food is kinda yucky."
Yoru glanced at what was in her clubmate's tray. A scoop of fried brown rice served with fried plantains and soggy steamed green beans greeted her.
'Yeah, they can't compare to what John made for me' The child nodded along as she listened to Sierra complain about her meal. 'School food is not great. I wonder if it's like that everywhere.'
'I wonder if Ai is eating well.' The thought came up unprompted and left a tight feeling in Yoru's chest.
"-but I really like the chicken sliders they give us sometimes." The Wick's attention snapped to the brunette to stop herself from spiraling. "The sauce is tasty."
"Is it? I've never had it before." The girl started opening her lunch, occupying herself with as many tasks as possible to distract herself.
Yoru knew that doing this won't make the problem better – and she will bring it up with her therapist later in the week – but the child can't deal with this right now.
"Really?" Sierra was in disbelief. "You've never eaten it before?"
The Japanese girl shook her head and her clubmate launched into a long spiel about the deliciousosity – if that's even a word – of the 'second bestest sauce in the world'.
"By the way, Sierra." Yoru interrupted her schoolmate. "Can I ask you something?"
"Hmm?" The American tilted her head for a brief moment. "Sure! Whaddya wanna ask?"
"What would you do if you had a problem you can't solve?" The Wick inquired.
"I would ask my mom." Sierra answered like it's the most obvious question in the world.
Well, that is definitely not an option. Nevermind the fact that Yoru's mother is halfway across the world and she doesn't have any way of contacting her, the one thing she will never do is ask that woman to help with anything. The girl had learned it the hard way.
"What if you can't ask your mom?" The child tried another angle.
"Then I'll ask my dad." The brunette responded just as quickly. "If I can't ask him, then I'll ask my older brother. They always have answers for me!"
"[I see…]" Yoru muttered in Japanese under her breath. "Thank you, Sierra."
"No problem." Sierra affirmed. "Anything for a friend."
"Friend?" The Wick was surprised for the umpteenth time this period.
"Yeah." The American responded. "We are friends, aren't we?"
"Y-yes." Yoru quickly amended once her classmate began to look like a kicked puppy. "We are friends."
"Good!" Sunshine rebounded into Sierra's face like a spring. "Now do you want me to tell you why green beans are yucky?"
"You're not going to have time to finish if you keep talking." Yoru pointed at the cafeteria's clock with her chopsticks.
"Oh, right." The brunette dug her spork and began shoveling the mound of now cold fried rice into her mouth. "-Fanks -woru."
The girl nodded. Friend. That is a nice word.
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That night
John's Home
8:13 PM
"John?" The hitman looked up from the file he's reviewing when he heard his ward call for him.
"What is it?" He straightened the sheets and placed them onto the coffee table.
"I…" Yoru paused.
John didn't try to rush her as she tried to find the proper words. The child wasn't the type to ask for help even if she needed it. The assassin recognized this independent streak as a defense mechanism, one he had used when he was younger but to a lesser extent.
"I need help." Yoru went with the simplest option.
"What for?" The Soviet swept the papers aside, signalling to the girl that all of his attention was going to be on her.
"The Ruska Roma." John blinked.
"Did something happen?" His ward shifted at his question.
"Nothing out of the… normal." The child stumbled as she blanked on the right term for a moment. "It's… I…"
"I'm not good enough to be in there." The hitman's face softened at Yoru's admission.
"Why don't you think you are?" The assassin asked another softball question to coax an answer out of the eight-year-old.
"... I never win." The voice that came out of the Japanese girl was small, almost meek. "Even though I try my best, I don't win."
"I see." John could spot the younger Wick's violet orbs beginning to mist over.
"Nogi said that you've been doing very well." The former Marine assured Yoru. "And I agree. Having the basics down in just three weeks is amazing."
"Mhm…" The child nodded, but she wasn't convinced just yet.
"Why is winning important to you?" The hitman tried another angle.
The girl went silent at her guardian's question. She stared at the ground, eyes purposefully averting from John.
"My classmates talk about you." Yoru finally responded after a couple of seconds. "Baba Yaga, the greatest to come out of the Ruska Roma."
"They expect me to be as good as you." She continued. "But I'm not. I can't even land one hit whenever I spar."
"Then they expect too much." The assassin replied. "I wasn't always this good."
"You're still way better than me." The girl retorted. "You probably can beat anyone after training for two weeks."
"I didn't start sparring until three weeks in." John's correction made Yoru pause. "Got knocked around for another two weeks before I landed a clean punch."
"Do you know why?" The child shook her head at his question.
"It's because you won't always be the better fighter." The Soviet answered. "There is always someone stronger, faster, smarter than you are."
"Nogi didn't tell me this." The younger Wick murmured.
"It's the family's way to check who has the right mindset to be in the business." The hitman responded. "You can get stronger, faster and smarter, but you can't learn to keep fighting even when victory seems impossible. Either you can, or you can't."
"So don't worry about how others see you." John continued, now with his ward's gaze fully on him. "The only thing that matters is if you are improving. If you can't win, then land as many hits as possible. If you can't hit them, then see how long you last."
"You only need to live up to your expectations." A fire had sparked in Yoru's eyes. "As long as you're better than how you were last time, you are good enough to be there."
"I understand." The violet-haired girl nodded. "Thank you, John."
"Anytime." The assassin returned the gesture before reaching for the papers he set aside earlier, picking up from where he left off as the child walked off with a determined look on her face.
Then – with the hitman's gaze no longer on her – Yoru curled her right hand into a fist, pulling it back and-
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The next day
Ruska Roma
5:14 PM
*Fosh*
Liza jerked her head to the side, letting Yoru's punch displace air beside her ear. The Russian let loose a left jab, but the younger girl retreated and moved outside of her range.
Something is different about the Wick today. Her opponent disengaged more, opting to bait the blonde into committing to attacks before moving in when she couldn't pivot so easily.
Liza was more accustomed to Yoru being on the offensive. This new passiveness had taken the older student off guard, forcing her outside of her comfort zone. There was none of the explosive movement – the aggression – that made up the core of the girl's usual fighting style.
Yoru and the Russian circled each other, maintaining a distance that is just outside each others' range. Liza held the advantage here. The shorter girl must go inside of her range before the blonde was in hers.
However – although the ten-year-old held the indisputable edge in this spar – the two can't keep circling each other. Nogi would not allow such a thing to happen in her class. Either one of them needs to start doing something soon, or they would both be punished.
Yoru and Liza were locked in a game of chicken. Both combatants were testing the other to see how much they are willing to risk their instructor's wrath.
The violet-haired child's next step put her just within the taller girl's range. However, the blonde knew that this was a trap. The Wick is baiting her, just like every other time she went into Liza's range.
But is she willing to risk it? Both of them hadn't had a decisive exchange in quite some time. Liza will need to look at Nogi's face to gauge how long she has until she needs to do something and Nogi… Nogi is standing somewhere behind her.
The Russian bit her lip. This is not a good situation to be in. Yoru is not going to make a move because if she hasn't been aggressive for the entire spar, she's not going to start now. But the taller girl doesn't know how much time she has left until her instructor calls the match and punishes both of them for being too passive.
Surely looking over her shoulder wouldn't hurt, right? Just one quick look and that's all she'll need to make a decision. Liza knows that taking your eyes off of your opponent is bad, but she'll have enough time to move out of the way once Yoru starts to capitalize.
With her choice made, the Russian whipped her head around to look at Nogi.
*Thump*
But right as Yoru left her peripheral vision, a low thud reverberated across the room. Liza spun her head around to see the shorter girl about to let loose a low roundhouse with her lead leg.
The blonde lifted her lead leg so the Wick's kick will land on her shin instead of her more vulnerable thigh. But instead of following through, Yoru took a large step forward and-
*Twap*
Pain blistered across the left side of Liza's face as white-hot electricity shot across her jaw.
The older girl gritted her teeth and ducked, narrowly avoiding the Wick's followup punch before launching herself at her opponent.
*THUD*
Yoru's back hit the sparring room floor, the impact driving the breath out of the younger girl. Liza mounted her in an instant, fist raised in preparation to return the favor.
"STOP!" Nogi called out, and the Russian froze. "Seperate."
The blonde begrudgingly got off of the Wick, glumly walking over to her corner as Yoru did the same. She had failed, the pain on her face made the feeling of defeat sting even more.
"Good job." Her instructor's voice had an edge of pride to it. But that pride wasn't directed at her.
Liza looked up. Yoru was smiling. She's happy. Happy that she punched her in the face. Happy that she won because she cheated.
The blonde clenched her hand into a fist so tight that her knuckles turned bone white. Why does she get everything? She is the daughter of the Baba Yaga, she had a home to return to, and she's being praised for something anyone can do.
Yoru eventually noticed that the Russian was boring holes into her with her stare and the two locked eyes.
'I hate her.' Liza decided as brown met violet. 'I really, really hate her.'