"Really?"
I think I should pull Kiko back for this conversation.
Grabbing kiko hand, I start pulling her back. At the same time, I look around me. Taking account of what's around me and everything that happened for THIS to happen.
Everything started normally. Two days after my grandfather came.
Someone else visited, Kiko and my aunt.
Which is GREAT! I kinda wished to see them again...even if I hate the little demon. Little demon that's tightening her hand around my own hand.
The reason for this tightening is the tone my mother used. Not on any of us, not on any of the childrens.
But the tone she used against her own sister, well, sister in law I guess. Pretty sure she's father sister and not the opposite.
Those details doesn't matter much though, because the only thing that matters is what I'm hearing, what me and Kiko, are hearing.
My mother.
My sweet and calm mother is talking with such coldness in her voice that it genuinely made me jolt because of how random it was.
And yes.
It was random.
I still don't know what caused this yet, so let's go back in the past and try to figure it out together.
Let's go a dozen of minutes back in the past, to when kiko and her aunt arrived.
As usual, everything was fine.
I was sacrificed to kiko. And we did our usual stuff, the dancing, helped her draw some stuff too, all while she showed me all her progress, she progressed well, she can almost draw understandable things now.
Which is...progress for the little devil.
She showed me how fast she could run, which is kinda fast for a four years old I'll admit.
And then she started jumping around and even tried to teach me how to run
And I did it, kind of. It wasn't the best run in the world. But it was a run. It was faster than walking at least.
We celebrated, the adults looked at us with fondness, had their little fun.
EVERYTHING WAS PERFECT, in the best of the world.
Well, not fully perfect.
Because I know my aunt, and I know that she was beating around the bush, she tried multiple times to start off a conversation with my parents. About...something.
But she was or shut down by my mother pointing at what kind of adorable stuff we were doing.
Or didn't found an opportunity to talk about it.
One of those adorable stuff Kiko did was to talk about her friends.
Her other friends she met some weeks ago, somewhere. She talked about it.
She had fun talking about them in her own childish and adorable ways.
So yeah. She talked about it, at first she talked about a long haired black girl, the strongest girl in the world as she called her.
She talked about how she's only nine years old and already strong enough to beat up adults!
And...I'll admit it, weird thing to hear. Yeah, pretty weird, it's not everyday that you hear about nine years old being able to beat adults after all.
Even I tilted my head at that, wondering if that was just the exaggeration of a child or if there was something wrong with this world.
Any curiosity of mine has been thoroughly destroyed when I turned around to see the reactions of the adult at this information, if they'll laugh along, or talk about a weird martial art prodigy everyone knows about and...
And instead I was greeted by a death glare from my mother. Going straight to my aunt.
My father, who was standing and doing something in the kitchen froze too as he heard that.
My aunt looked...weird, she had a weird resigned smile as she listened to her daughter talk about her new friends.
The next friend she talked about was a beautiful girl, she was older than the strongest girl. Twelve years old, but apparently she was super smart, and super beautiful, and that's all a super girl like Kiko wants to be.
So she likes her a lot, and she talks with her a lot, and this beautiful girl is even giving her advice and lets Kiko call her sis, like sister but reduced.
Which is...kind of adorable.
And it would be
If it wasn't for my mother looking at my aunt like she was some kind of insect that should be crushed and burned by holy fire.
And then Kiko kept up her talk.
Compeltly unaware of the tension building as she started talking about weird things that worried even me, knives? Sharp things? Fighting? And training?
All with the enthusiasm of a four years old.
And then, when Kiko was done. Her mother, sitting on a chair, found herself nodding. One time, two times, a dozen of times really, every nod was slightly weaker than the others.
Her face was weird. She was a mix of sad and resigned, then, she said it.
"I put her in..." And she didn't got the time to finish her sentence before my mother said:
"Really?"
And here we are.
Here I am.
In the middle of my living room. Holding the hand of Kiko, hand who's tightening by the second as even she, starts to pick up on the mood.
My father is still frozen in the kitchen. Back to us. I don't even know what he's staring at.
My aunt answers my mom though "Yes. Really."
Without any fucking hesitation, I turn around and start pulling Kiko away in my room. There's no fucking way I'm letting her listen to whatever the fuck is about to be said.
While I leave, I hear words being exchanged, back to back like in a ping pong match.
I expected some insults, or some screaming. Considering the mood, but apart from coldness from my mother, and a weird mix of guilt I don't like to hear from my aunt.
There's no screaming.
Maybe they still remember we're here.
Maybe not.
"Is that a joke?"
There's a sigh from my aunt, behind me. "You know how dad is"
"It doesn't fuc-! It doesn't matter, you ca-!"
My father turns around and see me leave straight to my room before the tension explodes, he looks at me, I look at him, he looks weird.
Before he can say anything. I give him a single glance and say "I'll show Kiko my room"
Okay, that was the best words that ever came out of my mouth, but I don't really have the luxury to care about hiding my eloquence right now.
The only thing that really matters right now is leaving.
So open the door.
Ignore the words.
Enter the room.
Close the door.
And let the words get muffled.
I hold Kiko hand tight, matching the amount of force she's putting through mine.
For a while, we stand here. In my new barren room, nothing but a crib and a handheld mirror on a box as decoration.
And for a while, I think. About what I just heard. About what the fuck any of this meant.
My thoughts get interrupted by a shifting kid on my left.
"What did I do wrong?"
Slowly, I turn my head to look up at the little devil.
And for once, I pull her closer and give her a big hug. Even if it's a bit awkward with the size difference, I try to let her face rest on my chest, doing my best to reassure a kid.
"Nothing." Hell to acting, I continue "You did nothing wrong kiko, why don't you tell me about your new friends again?"
Two months later, I'll figure out that this was the last time I'll ever see Kiko or my aunt.