"Hello, little girl. What is that you are drawing?"
"... a butterfly. The ones in the park."
"Well, that is a beautiful butterfly you have."
"T... thank you..."
Charles Ashford. Head of the Ashford name, a businessman of high standing with single bachelor plastered all over his aged face. He has come to the point where he must seek an heir, but cannot father a child naturally. Thus, whilst he still has his years, the man resorted to adoption. Searching for the child of another to inherit the Ashford name and fortune.
Charles found that his search bared no fruit, however.
Finding a child worthy of such honor and privilege was no easy matter. The child must be gifted and academic, a rare occurrence for those... orphans. After all, gifted children are useful for their families. None of the children tested through conventional methods were up to Ashford standards. The academically successful either belong to another family name, or have a history of being undesirable and rotten due to their spoiled upbringings once their intelligence was discovered.
Going through common orphanages was the better option, but there laid another issue. Only a fool would discard a good child. As much as Charles did not want to admit it, the typical orphan was a gambit of intelligence. When they are young, they have "room to grow" in vague amounts, all dependent on nature on top of their nurture. Upon reaching testing age, the child's intelligence may often be either average or poor, leading to a wasted effort. It was not impossible to find success, of course, but... average was not what Charles was looking for.
It broke Charles's heart to know how picky he was, but he must be strong. He may contribute and invest all he wants in their futures, but the man was searching to parent an heir. For a child born under another name, they must not be average. They must be exceptional. They must have the potential to lead, to maintain and to grow the Ashford name. Just as Charles did, and his father before him. A prized jewel that needed to shine amongst the Ashford collection through hardship and dedication.
And he found one such gem in the orphanage on 7th. A red eyed child with long black hair, meek in mannerisms and modest in attire. While the other children were off playing, this one was by her lonesome underneath the dining room table. Charles curiously went to greet the girl whilst the staff were preparing documents.
"Hmm. By any chance, is this a monarch butterfly?"
"No... it's a viceroy."
"A viceroy?"
"Yes... this part of the wing. There is a line... monarchs don't have that... s... so..."
Monarch butterflies. Viceroy butterflies. Monarchs and viceroys. Kings and queens, and their representatives. In the civilized, human world, a viceroy is quite literally a vice royal. A vice-king. A public face for a country empowered to act in the sovereign's name, as if they were the very king of that country. Not unlike the natural world, where viceroy butterflies mimic the monarch butterfly for survival, utilizing the colorful properties to avert predators due to looking unpalatable.
The two types of butterflies share the most minute of details that separate them, details that most would disregard and group into mere butterflies. This little girl has the care and precision to detail to draw a butterfly to the exact detail. With a simple pencil and a box of crayons, she put to paper a beautiful work of nature. Having the word to back up her vision, able to discern the most miniscule of characteristics in these insects. Impressive.
"Ah... fascinating creatures, these are. My, and you've colored it red?"
"... yes... red is... pretty..."
"It is, yes. Quite the artwork... and you've signed it as well. Cursive?"
"Y... Yes... it is nice... the letters look pretty..."
The signature read, "Chouko." Charles later learned more about this little girl while examining the documentation, seeing her name stand out amongst the forms presented to him. Chouko was six years of age, with half-Japanese and half-English blood in her veins. Beyond this information, her origins allude the orphanage, as she was simply left on the doorstep one day.
She had yet to be enlisted in the education system, but showed an active desire to learn. Caretakers have experience with the girl being a quick study, able to retain information far better than any of the other kids. Chouko has miraculously managed to memorize each page of the orphanage's books, capable of reciting anything she's read from memory.
This includes several pages of pop up books, fairy tales, and - comedically, one time - the basic ideas from Shakespeare's MacBeth, brought into the orphanage one time by a caretaker's son. Although Chouko didn't fully understand the secondary school book, nor did she finish the entire work, she is aware of what happens. She was found lying in her bed, decently far into the novel before the caretakers confiscated it.
In fact, Chouko's near insatiable connection with books was revealed much later to the man. The caretakers refrained from mentioning her behavioral issues. On top of her taking the novel from the son, she regularly bothered staff with requests for new books every so often when bored. Something that the orphanage could not readily do in an instant, so she was told by caretakers to play with the children instead.
Whenever talking with the other children, however, Chouko often attempted to talk about and discuss the books to the dismay of the children that have yet to be read the orphanage's stories. Thus, she would spend playtime either by her lonesome or with her mouth closed at all times. The root cause to her... passive, timid self when she spoke with Charles.
"Chouko. Is that your name?"
"Y... Yes... C... Chouko... I am Chouko..."
"Chouko... fascinating. You have a wonderful name, Chouko."
"... thank you..."
In this very moment, Charles had a hunch that Chouko was the excellent child he was looking for. Even before knowing anything else about her, her name alone caused Charles to ponder. The meaning of the name, Chouko, was "butterfly child". The butterfly a symbol for the soul in various Japanese folklore, with ancient mythology holding beliefs that butterflies were the messengers of the gods.
There was some poetic beauty with this butterfly child, in this very moment, drawing a butterfly. Artistically drawing her very own namesake, possibly showing reverence to the name her parents have bestowed upon her. Charles found significance in this coincidence, especially with how knowledgeable he was about his own name. Great men throughout history shared the name, Charles, from royals and rulers to several pioneers of science and arts.
A part of him, in that moment, believed that if there was anyone deserving of the prestige of being heir to the Ashford fortune, Chouko is a strong contender. Polite, well mannered, artistically skilled. She has plentiful amounts of potential. Potential fit for an upstanding lady of the Ashford name.
Charles was not going to let this opportunity pass him by. He took the chance.
"If, by chance, the orphanage will permit me to do so, would you like to be adopted today?"
"... today...?"
"Not to get your hopes up, but yes. I see a promising potential future with you as an Ashford, Chouko. As my daughter."
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"... then... sure..."
And thus, once the paperwork was in order, Charles became the father and primary caretaker of Chouko Ashford. The little girl allowing herself in that moment to be excited as she was led through the front exit, brought to a large and shiny black car driven by a fancy man known as a chauffeur.
Chouko, before she knew it was real, had to prepare for the possibility that this man was lying to her. That he couldn't adopt her. Yet, a part of her felt a bubbling excitement if he was telling the truth. Chouko had no friends at the orphanage, she has already exhausted all of the books here, and she spent most of her time underneath just the table anyway.
Maybe the man adopting her has a better table to hide under, more books to read and more things to do. So, with all of her heart, she wished it was real, she hoped it was real, and it was. Chouko sat down in the backseat alongside her father, astonished as she comfortably rode in the car. That was the first time she was ever in a car.
There was something indescribably precious to Charles about seeing a child's joy unfolding before him, especially one that he was now caring for.
"Chouko, do you like big houses?"
"... big... houses? Like... uhm... this- big?"
"No, no, your new home is much larger. I cannot wait for you to see it for yourself."
"U-Uhm... I see..."
The car takes a right at a gate, stopping right in front of it. The black, metallic bars of the gate catching Chouko's eyes. A man in a box is seen, looking to the passengers in the back seat. A wave and a smile to the little girl, with Chouko staring back... waving back to him.
Then, with a press of a button, the gates open and the car drives along. Chouko stares out the window to see expansive fields of grass. Well kept, well tended. Tiny little spots of white circles shining on the side of the path.
Once close enough, the little girl catches a glimpse of the big house. A massive manor comes closer to the car, its windows brightly lit in yellow and white. Two stories tall, something Chouko gets a better look at when the car circles around the water fountain...
Chouko stares in astonishment as she is helped out of the car. Her hand holding her new father's hand, led closer to the manor with each step. For a moment, her hand begins to shake, as she was scared and intimidated by the sheer size of her new home.
Charles gently wraps his fingers to hold Chouko's hand as well. Reassuring her and leading her forward, looking down to her and smiling.
"I am here. Are you uncomfortable? Is something upsetting you about the manor?"
"... a-are there- any monsters in there...?"
"Of course not, Chouko. If there were, I will keep you company, and I will keep you safe."
"O... oh... okay...!"
Chouko looked at her father, and her red eyes blinked at him a couple of times. She felt safe in that moment, and walked with him into the manor.
Witnessing the manor's interior decor from the foyer, Chouko faced a mansion with pure white walls lined with pillars, a hallway straight to the front with stairways up to a second floor, and hallways to her left and right. Charles first took Chouko up the stairs and to the left, the two passing by numerous doors as they wandered. Chouko did not know what was behind any of them, as the doors were completely unmarked.
The sheer... amount of rooms was dizzying. Chouko was used to there only being four rooms at the orphanage: a large bedroom with dozens of beds for everyone, a kitchen and dining room, and the main area for story time, play time, and so on. This intimidated her, less than a monster but more than her old shelter.
Chouko wondered, did her father adopt more people? These finely suited and dressed adults that roamed the halls, having been exposed to maids and butlers for the first time in her life...
Eventually, the pair turned right around the hallway corner, and made it to one room in particular. A massive, expansive room decorated with the finest drawers Charles could provide. Gender neutral in color, as he knew not for certain if his heir would be a boy or a girl. The room had pure white wallpaper and well polished wood floors. One queen sized bed with quilted sheets, handwoven pillows and a fluffy teddy bear atop it.
"This will be your bedroom, Chouko. For now, I must tend to other affairs, and will leave you to explore at your leisure. The men and women in this house are here to help."
"..."
"... is something the matter, Chouko? Is the room currently not to your liking? Staff are also available to decorate it as you see fit."
"It's... u... uhm... c... can... can I- uhm- come with you t-to your room...? I- I'm- I'm, uh, I-"
Charles gently walked along, leading Chouko away from her bedroom. He was more than happy to bring his daughter to his bedroom, if it assists with making her feel like home.
Keeping her company, Charles brought her to his room. It felt even more grand than her own bedroom. His style was more dark and refined, with darker wood in his floors and furniture. His wallpapers split between an upper half of rich, dark green laced with polka dots, and a lower half design of dark brown wood panels. His bedframe a rich dark oak to match, king sized with fine and fluffy white sheets.
The man sat down at his desk, positioned at the right-most windowsill. Beginning to tend to paperwork that the head butler has left, reviewing his businesses and such.
Chouko idly looked around the room, free to explore it. At the left-most window, she saw a massive piece of furniture with legs and a seat. Was this a table? But... it didn't look like one, it was weirdly shaped and too large to sit at... except this one part that was narrow and could not fit things that go on a table. Just books and paper above it...
"... uhm... Father... w... what is this?"
"Ah. That is a piano, Chouko. A beautiful instrument that plays music. In my free time, I find it comforting to indulge myself in my musical passions."
"Uhm... uh... c... can I, uhm, try... playing it?"
"... if you so wish. There is a booklet that you may read to... assist with your playing."
Charles felt a little uneasy as his newest daughter requested to play the piano. He found himself getting up from his desk, departing from the room and excusing himself to ask the maids to provide some refreshments.
A deep sigh escaped Charles's lips once he was out of the room. This unease he felt was, hopefully, not towards Chouko. Rather, how she takes to the piano. The fault lied within himself, as he is a very passionate aficionado of classical music. "Indulge myself in my musical passions"... truly undersold his passion, especially with his critic tendencies.
His heart was afraid that he will feel upset at Chouko's attempts. Afraid that his demanding expectations will be soiled by a child learning piano for the first time. Afraid that the girl will detest the piano, detest his passion.
He stalled for time to delay it. Delay his reaction to Chouko. Taking his time to personally request tea and biscuits from the best maid in his employment, one specializing in brewing a staple in this household: the citrusy Earl Grey. A middle classman's tea, yet- quite posh for a man of his status to enjoy.
Charles prefers his Earl Grey with lemon and honey, and instructed the maid to provide additional options for Chouko. A bowl of sugar cubes, small cups of milk and honey so that she may experiment with the tea, three extra lemon slices, and additional biscuits. Children do love their sweets, after all.
Eventually, the maid came back with a tray. Two white cups of tea brimmed with a sky blue, matching the imported teapot and the saucers they rest atop. All the ingredients as instructed, the tea hot and ready.
Charles mentally prepared himself for whatever outcome awaited in that room, walking back whilst accompanying the maid. Every few steps, he took a deep breath to calm and ease his nerves, saving the tea as a last resort if the worst were to occur.
... and Charles arrived at the room, staying outside. Hearing... something that pleasantly surprised him. Arm held out to gesture the maid to stop in place, as he peeked into his room with wonder.
In the time Charles has been gone, Chouko demonstrated her gifted proficiency with reading. As a beginner, she was understanding how the white and black keys on the piano work, had a bit of knowledge about beginner's sheet music, and spent some time playing the basic works of the instructional book in the short amount of time she was given.
... and, out of curiosity, she upgraded herself to playing Debussy's Clair de Lune around the time Charles came back.
One of Charles's personal favorite pieces. One that conveys beauty, tranquility. A representation of the moonlight, its subtle stillness representative of Symbolist poet Paul Verlaine's work of the same name. It happened to be the sheet music he kept on the music stand, the song he had last previously played.
Tears trailed down Charles's eyes. Chouko, once again, moved his heart. A mere six year old capable of playing the basics of such a work, albeit with the occasional mistake due to physical limitations... it was breathtaking. He could not believe that such a girl would be abandoned, left in an orphanage. Having her talents go unnurtured, left a ruby in an encasement of brick and stone. She was a beginner, yes, and the subtle differences between her smaller hands and his very own are different in quality.
Yet, he could feel no disappointment for his newest care, feeling nothing but pride.
He started to walk into the room, steps slow and quiet to not disturb the girl's work. This was to no avail, as she diverts her attention to him shortly after his attempt. Her fingers stopping upon noticing his quiet approach, looking at him nervously.
"U... Uhm... welcome- back... I... uh... I was just..."
"Chouko... you're..."
"... w... well, I, uhm... I saw the... the paper, and- uhm... tried to-"
"That was beautiful... please, allow me to join you."
He delayed his work as he took a seat with Chouko. Sitting to her left, knowing that the left side of Claire de Lune is more complicated than the right. For quite some time, they played together, with Charles instructing Chouko every step of the way.
The sun sets some time after, their tea lukewarm on a spare table. Not an ounce consumed, lost in their melodious duet. In this very moment, they were, themselves, basking in the tranquility of the moonlight. Eventually brought out of it once Chouko became hungry, and dinner was made posthaste. This marks the very beginning of their fond memories together.
A father, and his precious little girl.