It was a beautiful autumn day, and Casca was coming to realise that she hadn’t felt quite this shitty in a while.
It was hard to walk in a straight line – okay, that was an exaggeration. But it felt like it should’ve been hard to walk in a line. What time did we even get home last night? Six? Seven? I’m running on three hours of sleep, here…
She flashed her card for the guard manning the gate – probably unnecessary, since she’d been coming here once a week since late spring – and he waved her through. As always, walking through the over-wrought things brought a tiny spark of irritation drifting across the back of her skull.
…But today, unlike most days, she didn’t have the effort to spare to stamp it out.
Across the courtyard, through the entrance, and then she hung a left into the janitorial areas. The numerous hallways passed in something that wasn’t quite a blur, her feet moving on instinct while her mind conserved energy.
Ugh, knees. I thought it’d be my ankles bothering me, but they stopped throbbing before we even left the cave… Now it’s all knees.
Her finger tapped the ball at her belt. You’d better make it up to me, you hear?
The thought wasn’t serious; as much as she’d love to impress everyone with a strong new Pokémon today, it would be extremely stupid to release it anywhere other than a pre-prepared ground – surrounded by trained Pokémon, who could jump in if it decided it didn’t like following orders. Ugh, that’s gonna be a pain… Maybe I’ll just trade it to Hoshi when he catches something.
That thought, too, wasn’t very serious. Her man had gotten really attached to ‘his girls,’ as he called them – to the point it might be creepy if it wasn’t so adorable, she thought with a smile – and she doubted he’d be different with any other Pokémon he caught.
Up the stairs, around a bend, out into the main halls again, and – and she was there. Politics 101 stood out in gold-coloured paint on the heavy wooden door, and beyond… No, don’t think about how late you are. Just do it.
Casca straightened her back and twisted the knob, every effort she could muster concentrated on not looking like some piece of roadkill left to rot in a gutter. Heads turned as she walked into the room, and a speck of that effort was diverted to block a wince.
Four other aspiring agents mingled in the classroom, their leader – an actual Rocket Agent – leaning against the teacher’s desk. I was hoping June would be a bit later than me, but I guess she came on time… or I’m really late.
“Cascade,” Sierra said – not greeted, the woman would never be caught doing something so friendly – in cold tones. “We’ve been waiting for twenty minutes.” The where the fuck were you was left implied.
With relief and embarrassment mixing together in her chest, Casca shut the door. Whew, only twenty… that’s not good, but it's salvageable. She forced a smile as she replied, “Sorry Ma’am, late night – I was helping my man explore a deep, dark hole – if you know what I mean.”
Cudgel snorted and Mimi giggled, so she counted that as a win. “Oh?” the latter questioned, her voice girlish despite being half-again Casca’s age. “Did he find anything in there?”
“Just something with a long tongue,” Casca answered, setting off another round of giggles – this time Rose and June joined in, and the trepidation she’d felt since waking up mostly went away.
Only mostly though, since the agent was still fixing her with an icy glare.
Sierra Chispan was one of those classical Paldean beauties – or maybe pre-classical, even. Every time Casca looked at her the first word that popped up in her head was mannish, but that word was usually used as an insult, and that didn’t fit. Statuesque was better, but even that didn’t have quite the right… texture.
With long legs and an athletic figure topped by a round face, Sierra was beautiful without being necessarily feminine. Her long brown hair, wrapped in a tiered bun and held in place by an oversized pin, did little to dampen the image of someone born in an earlier era. The only part of her that looked delicate were her carefully sculpted eyebrows.
“Cascade,” the woman repeated, her voice still icy. “This is a serious matter. I’ll overlook this once, but I expect better – if you’re late again, I’ll be talking with the Senior Executives.”
Inside, Casca smiled. Bitch, please. Like we’ll even need to do this again, after today; I can see that shit peeking out from the boxes behind you. Outside, she turned her lips down in contrition. “Sorry, Ma’am. Hunting trip went long, you know how it is. Won’t happen again.”
“Ooh,” Mimi interjected. “Catch anything good?”
“A dugtrio. Another grunt found a lickitung, too.”
Eyes widened. “Oh, lucky!” “What’s that?” “The blond hunk?” “That’s not the worst Pokémon. Think they’d be interested in selling?”
Cudgel grunted from the corner, waiting until the murmur passed to speak. “Shit Pokémon. Yours is pretty good, though.” The muscular woman tilted her chin. “Would’ve been useful to have an evolved ground type earlier. Too bad we’re ending this today.”
“And on that note,” the irritated Sierra broke in, taking back control of the room. “Now that we’re all here, I’ll reveal today’s plan of action.”
She turned and brought out the objects Casca had noticed – a pile of folded-up uniforms, each one a uniform blue. “Our plant has managed to get them into position; the bulk of Vermilion’s Night Folk have fortified themselves in what they believe to be an out-of-use storage space. In actuality, they’ve barricaded themselves into a Rocket safehouse – one with an escape tunnel, which will be our ingress point.
“As such a large conflict would be difficult to hide from the authorities, we’ll not even try. Today’s mission will be undercover; the five of you will masquerade as a squad of Jenny, while I play the part of a supporting Pokémon Ranger. As such…” She turned and retrieved another prop, setting an armoured briefcase next to the police uniforms – and as she opened it Casca’s eyebrows rose.
Sierra extracted a pistol; she didn’t know the official name, but it was easily recognisable as the standard-issue Jenny firearm. Rose whistled, and Mimi’s eyes sparkled.
“…We’ve been generously gifted some special equipment to better sell the illusion. There are also functional facsimiles of the standard police badge, which I’ll coach you on wearing, stun batons, personal radios, and handcuffs. You are to subdue the Night Folk in a manner consistent with your cover; avoid lethal wounds and cuff them together after you’ve subdued their Pokémon. Rose, you will be in charge of interfacing with the genuine policia – you will memorise the passcodes and phone in the ‘arrests.’”
Rose nodded.
“Mimosa and Juniper, you will be on powder duty.”
Two more nods. By now, they'd done a half-dozen of these raids together; the trivial details had been ironed out already. And yet, she goes through it every time.
“And finally Ivy, Cascade, and I shall provide the subduing force. Any questions?”
Casca sank inside herself as Mimi asked something about their disguises, tuning things out as her eyes fixed to the pistol in Sierra’s hand.
You know… I’m not actually sure if I’ve ever killed anyone before. It was possible that some of her early missions, those frantic days that were mostly a blur in her memories, had ended with someone in the morgue… but if so, it had happened after she left. Hadn’t been anywhere she could see.
“Cascade.” The agent’s harsh bark penetrated into her skull – not unlike a bullet.
“Hm?” she grunted. “Sorry?”
Sierra was too composed to bare her teeth, but the twist of her lips said she wanted to. “Have you been keeping up with your marksman training, Grunt?”
Oh, that. “Yeah. Every third week, like clockwork.”
“It will have to do. Alright, suit up and help each other with the wigs – I want this done in time to write up the reports tonight.”
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Sierra liked to think of herself as uncommonly competent.
No, liked wasn’t enough; she had to be uncommonly competent, because how else could she have gotten this far with such stunningly incompetent help?
She suppressed a sigh as the girls assembled themselves into something almost, but not quite, resembling a gathering of professionals. Arcios mio…
“Cascade, help the others with their hair.” We’ve reviewed the disguise module three times in these last few weeks, how are you all still so bad at it? “Mimosa, the badge goes over your heart.”
Despite asking for potential agents, the Seniors had given her a gaggle of schoolgirls – oversized schoolgirls, in some cases, but distressingly literal in others.
Namely, Cascade and Juniper. While it was beneath her to dig for such trivial details, she would eat her traje if either of them exceeded twenty years of age. And Mimosa was hardly better; despite being near Sierra’s own age, the woman was easily the most juvenile of them.
The second adult was hardly better; Ivy was a blunt instrument – a fact she appeared to revel in, given her apodo. ‘Cudgel,’ indeed.
Rose was the only one she was remotely considering recommending for promotion; she was an able trainer, level-headed, and knew when to cut the chit-chat. She reminded Sierra of herself at that age, when she’d been approached by two strange foreigners and their powerful Pokémon…
Ah, she thought, I shouldn’t be thinking like an old woman so soon. That was a mere six years ago. It did feel so much longer, though. Vermilion was a busier place than Cortondo – much like the Levincia City she’d pined after as a teenager.
But where she’d failed in one ciudad del rayo, her career ending on inglorious defeat, this mirror city had raised her up. As much as her countrymen might spit and claw against the truth, Paldea was a bit part on the world stage, its Campeonas barely fit to be Elites in places like Unova or Kanto.
Better to be a mafioso than a reject, she thought, allowing her lips to turn upwards at the corners as the Rocket Grunts finally lined up.
No hair peeking through, make-up is reasonable, the badges and pistolas are worn properly enough…
“Acceptable,” she concluded. “We shall make our way into the tunnels from the nearby sewers.” Three groans sounded out, which she resolutely ignored. “Remember to maintain cover, and walk with purpose; you are law enforcement.”
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“You know, I expected it to smell worse.”
Casca turned to Cudgel, her nose scrunching at the verbal reminder of the stink. “Seriously? It smells exactly like I expected.” Like a fucking sewer.
The woman – who actually managed to fill out the uniform naturally, unlike the rest of them who needed finicky padding – shrugged. “It’s not much worse than an outhouse.”
“Your Pokémon disagrees!” Mimi called from behind.
“That’s just now Snout looks, the ugly-”
“Arcios me ayude…” came a mutter from the front. “Girls, we are about to see combat. Look alive.”
Cudgel rolled her eyes, while Casca just barely resisted the same impulse. “Yes Ma’am.” We get it, you’re a hardass Paldean gangster bitch. Ugh.
Maybe I should have called in sick like Hoshi; I’m actually feeling pretty not great. Which might just be the sewer, but either way she was just now realising that coming to a raid on so little sleep might do something to her ability to not get force-fed a round of Acid mixed with various powders. Blah… Whatever, it’s not like Candy will care how much sleep I’ve had.
“That’s right girl,” she half-whispered, patting the staryu on her top horn. “You’ve got this, right?” Her comment drew a round of whispers as the other girls reassured their own Pokémon, causing Sierra to send a backwards glare their way.
They continued in silence until the Rocket Agent stopped at a minimalistic – and mildly rusted – ladder, just iron bands driven directly into the concrete wall. “This is the one. Radios on and Safeguards up.”
Mimi’s vulpix and June’s seel applied the protective move as the rest of them psyched up. Last push. After this, I can finally get some well-earned downtime. Take Hoshi somewhere nice, maybe. Casca stepped up to the ladder as a weight settled on her back, followed closely by Cudgel and her drowzee. Hah, you know it’s kind of weird, her tired brain mused. I used to think Ivy was jacked, but Puce blows her out of the water without even trying. Less cute, too…
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Sierra ascended two rungs up, then signalled them with her hands. ‘Up,’ she signed. ‘Two seconds,’ ‘two seconds,’ ‘keep going.’
She and her fellow muscle nodded – and presumably the other two did as well, because the agent nodded and quickly scaled the rest of the ladder. A subtle creak from the trapdoor leading into the building, and Casca began to count.
One, tw-
“On the ground!” their leader’s voice came down from the opening. “This is the police!”
Two! Leaping up with her Pokémon clinging to her back, Casca ascended the ladder as fast as her limbs could move, adrenaline flooding her system with an energy she would probably pay for later.
As her head crested the opening Candy fired, nailing something behind while she scrambled. She found her feet, drew her cool electrified baton, and clicked it on with a yell of her own. “Get on your knees, scumbags!”
Maybe someone could accuse her of having a little too much fun, but come on; she was in a Jenny costume, doing cool spy shit while a houndoom and Paldean-electric-bird-she-didn’t-know-the-name-of wrecked a bunch of oddish and paras. A goon in the standard tacky Night Folk robes made a grab for her collar, and she hit him with the baton.
A dull fizz, and the dude – or dudette, the robes were completely shapeless – dropped. Oh, I like this. “Candy, watch my back.”
An enthusiastic “Huh!” sounded out from the weight on her back, and Casca started cuffing her first KO of the raid – just in time for Cudgel to pop up, Snout the drowzee following just behind.
“Rah!” she roared. “Surrender now, scum!”
Hah, unoriginal! Get your own insults, slowpoke!
Amid cries of “It’s the blues!” “Is that a Ranger?!” and “Oh Arcus it’s on fucking fire!” the other three Jenny-ized grunts emerged, and things went well – at least until the Night Folk got over their surprise.
Then things got messy.
“Candy, Rapid Spin!”
Her staryu ricocheted between three oddish, knocking two out and putting a third on its back – but before she could reorient on the gloom behind them, the nasty-smelling thing opened its mouth and sucked. Greenish streams emerged from Casca’s Pokémon, and the Gloom slurped them down like microwave ramen.
Candy used Rapid Spin again, but it was ineffectual; the Giga Drain had sapped enough vitality that she just bounced off its plum-coloured face. “Damn it!” Casca exclaimed. “Candy, return!”
Her staryu vanished back into her ball, and the Night Folk leader – they had some corny name for themselves like grand vizier or something, but she couldn’t give less of a shit at the moment – started to gloat.
“What’s wrong, girl?” came a male voice, lightly distorted from the fearow mask he wore to filter out the toxic fumes his group’s business produced. “Your pig friends too distracted to help you?” He wasn’t wrong; at some point in the melee she’d gotten pressed into the corner. “Sal, Toxic!”
She pressed her lips together as a shower of foul liquid sprayed across her face. Oh Arc that’s so bad, I’m gonna-!
While the Safeguard kept the horribly well-named move from not-so-slowly killing her, it did nothing for the smell or lumpy texture. Casca went to her knees, spewing half-digested hamburger across the already-stained warehouse floor.
“That’s right, suffer for- wait, you aren’t melt- ohshitSaluseSleep-!”
Her pistol barked three times, more muted than she remembered from her last round at the range, and the gloom screeched and spun as it clutched its face. “Toxic is a lethal move, asshole. Eat just cause.”
She shot the man in the leg and he went down howling. And fuck you too, she though, putting another one in the gloom’s read end. “MIMI! Get over here and torch this thing!”
Three things happened in the next ten seconds; her old street sister came by to help her out, Casca got Candy back on her feet with a Super Potion, and at the same time she had a little mini-freakout in her head.
Oh Arcus that would’ve killed me without the Safeguard oh fuck oh fuck the other ones weren’t like this!
It’s probably because we backed them into a corner, an unhelpfully lucid thought broke in. Or maybe because Sierra is setting them on fire with her big scary demon dog. Or that one guy was just a dick.
A hand on her shoulder almost made her twitch hard enough to shoot herself in the foot, and with a jittery motion she slapped the safety back on. “You okay?” Mimi spoke-shouted over the din.
Casca raised her head, and saw that on the other side of the warehouse Cudgel was breaking a man’s legs with her baton. Her head raised further, to watch flames play over a pile of what used to be drugs. Then she looked up to meet her friend’s eyes.
Mimi extended her hand, Casca took it, and they combined their strength to pull the curvy woman to her feet. “Just another day on the job,” she croaked.
“Right…” Mimi said, leaning in a beat later to speak in a whisper. “Also, my name’s Janet today. I mean who gives a shit but opsec, y’know?” She pulled away, revealing the playful smile on her lips. “Also, you smell worse than the sewer. Also, ‘just cause’ is like, only a thing in movies.”
Casca snorted, and very nearly vomited a second time as Toxic-juice got up her nose. “…Like a blue would care about that,” she managed, and Mimi giggled.
“Oh, that’s good! Anyway, let’s clean up.”
She cuffed the ‘criminal’ as Casca sprayed Candy down a second time, exhausting the canister. The staryu shuddered as she stood, limbs limp and drooping.
“Still feeling it, huh?” she comforted, and Candy’s gem pulsed once in what she was pretty sure was assent. “Almost done, and then you can rest.” She spread her arms wide, breathing in air heavy with Sleep, Stun, and Poison Powder – and all the shit the Night Folk had been making, too. “Let's get this gunk off me; give me a low-power Water Gun.”
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The fight took less than ten minutes, and while there were a few close calls Casca was pretty sure nobody would be filling a body bag by day’s end.
Even if some deserve it – fucking psychos. What, did you think the cops don’t shoot people? We didn’t even hide the guns, you fucking knew we had them!
She shook her head and sent the thought away with a yawn. Ugh, I’m coming down from my adrenaline high… “Sorry, could you repeat that? Lotta Sleep Powder flying around in there.”
The officer – a real one, unless things were a lot more wacky than she thought – nodded, making her beautiful blue curls bounce. “Yeah, I bet there was. Let me start from the top: name and badge number.”
Come on, brain- “Yelsa Kigumi, oh-one-nine, vee-see-bee.”
The Jenny nodded. “Reason for discharge of a weapon?”
“The gang fuck started throwing around Toxic.”
Her nose wrinkled, but the distaste was directed at the masked man having his leg bandaged next to the fleet of ambulances, not Casca – or rather, ‘Yelsa.’ “Nasty. I’ll copy that for ‘unauthorised lethal force against a Pokémon.’ Last one; any confiscated contraband?”
Casca shook her head. “Nope, the ranger set all that shit on fire. Shame too, this looked like their last holdout in the city. Crazy bi- uh, ranger probably got the money, too.” She hadn’t, but the fire was as good an excuse to explain the lack of cash as any.
Another nod, paired with a grimace. “Yeah, those types are always half-wild.” Whether she was talking about dark types, the rangers, or both wasn’t clarified. “That’s everything, you get yourself back to the station for a long shower.” Casca received a light knock on the shoulder, and then the Jenny turned and walked back to her squad car.
Thank you, Professor Hypno. I can almost forgive the hyper-creep vibe. With real badge numbers and the names to match, it would be hours before anybody noticed a quintet of officers had been in two places at once – if they ever did.
Across the parking lot exclamations rang out as Lilum Ghostwhite, Pokémon Ranger flew away, her foreign bird carrying her despite its mere ten-foot wingspan. One of the interviewers shook a fist, while the other shook her head.
‘Don’t bother,’ Casca read off the woman’s lips. ‘The Rangers never get written up – as long as they keep the routes clear, the League doesn’t care. Let’s get these powdermerchants packed away, and…’ She turned, and the rest of the conversation was lost.
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Twenty minutes later, they were back in a sewer – though this one, at least, was currently blocked off from the rest due to flooding damage.
“Finally,” June sighed as she pulled her wig off, letting her shoulder-length, dull purple hair free. “That form stuff took longer than the fight did. This where we ditch the pig skins?”
Rose shook her head, but she did so with a faint smile. “Sorry, but we have to dump those in the active sewers. No guarantee the muk will get it before someone sees, if we leave ‘em over here.”
June groaned, and Casca was… not quite there, for a minute.
A sharp sound drew her back as Cudgel snapped her fingers a few more times right in her face. “Orange, you there? Wake the fuck up.”
Casca waved her off. “I’m awake! Just… starting to feel it. Never shot someone before.”
The tall and broad woman snorted, and Casca belatedly realised that she was the only one who hadn’t stripped. She hurriedly moved to catch up, unbuttoning the uniform as Rose pulled a plastic garbage bag out of the loose, rain-damaged brickwork. From the bag came a cylindrical container and five bundles of identical clothing.
As Casca peeled the adhesive wig off – taking some of her real hair with it as she rushed – Sierra’s unofficial second-in-command sprayed herself down with something that smelled harsh and chemical. It wasn’t nearly as bad as even the diluted sewer stink, but it had a note of… artificiality that was incredibly unpleasant.
Scent blocker, don’t remember the actual name – damnit, how do the blues put up with all these buttons and straps? She finally pulled off her underwear just in time for the fourth of her peers to hand over the spray.
“Don’t swallow any,” June said, and Casca gave her a ‘do you think I’m an idiot?’ look – to which the Vermilion native replied by gesturing with her head, to where Mimi was puking up even more of her guts than Casca had earlier.
“…Noted,” she said, and got to work. As the spray covered her skin with a brief tingle the smell of the sewer, the lingering Toxic, and the burning drugs washed away. Twenty seconds later, as she pulled on a plain jogging outfit, the chemical scent had turned into something almost completely unnoticeable.
Done… almost. She took deep breaths as the five of them made their way back into the functional sewers, once again spacing out as they dumped their disguises, the guns, and everything else.
“Shame,” Rose commented as the bundles disappeared into the gloop, wads of living slime already sliding up from the bottom to investigate the disturbance. “Those were some good pistols. Can’t get pieces like those retail.”
“I liked the stick better,” Cudgel followed. “What about those?”
“How should I know?”
“I kind of liked the hair,” Mimi broke in as the muck started to froth, blue dye escaping the fabric as it dissolved. Normally muk don’t eat live meat, Casca thought morbidly, but these ones have been breaking down organic material for generations – if one of us fell in, would there be anything left the next day? “Nice shade of blue. Interesting to be a part of the clone army for just one day.”
June snorted. “Don’t spread weird rumours. If they were actual clones it wouldn’t be so obvious; it’s just an identity thing.”
The back-and-forth banter continued until they reached what should be a back alley manhole – and what was, actually, that very thing. The trip back to the academy was trivial, and Casca sort of half-slept through the whole thing, not really paying attention.
“Damn, girl,” Mimi commented as they dressed back up in their real clothes, still sitting where they’d left them in Politics 101. “You’re acting half-dead. Need a re-up on the Safeguard?”
Casca groaned, and June tapped her chin. “The Safeguard might be the problem, actually. Casca, you feel like you might pass out?”
“Yeaaah? Suuucks…” Casca slumped for a moment before valiantly pulling her other sock on.
June nodded. “Ah, that’s it. You’re exhausted, and Safeguard is seeing that as an imposition on your body’s aura from something outside.”
“Hey, who’s talking about conspiracies now?”
“Hey, it’s not a conspiracy. I used to date a guy from the basement, and he would go on and on about auras and math and shit.”
“The basement or the basement basement? ‘Cause one of those is a lot more respectable…”
“Oh, I think I remember him! What was his name… Bimmy? Jimmy?”
“James, Mimi. Honestly, you have such a bad head for names. I don’t even know why you want to be an agent…”
The words washed over her as she dressed and fixed her hair, too low on brainpower to discern one voice from the next. Then Sierra finally came back, took one look at her, and sent her off.
“Go home,” she said, something that might be pity peeking through the sculpture of her pale face. “Usually we would remove the Safeguard forcefully, but that would be inadvisable with all the narcotics you’ve inhaled.” Oh, great. “You will still be able to sleep, but the conditions must be natural.” She leaned forward, grey eyes steady with authority, and repeated herself. “Go home.”
“Don’t worry,” Rose assured. “We’ll make sure Mimi doesn’t take your pay and ‘forget’ to give it to you.”
“Hey!” the woman in question yelled. “I wouldn’t do that! It was an honest mistake!”
That managed to draw a chuckle from Casca’s throat despite the state of her body. You absolutely would. Streets turned you into a shark, girl.
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“…And then I came home,” Casca concluded. “Wrapped up and tried to sleep until you got home.”
Hoshi drew his fingers through her hair. “Sounds like a bad day.”
“Not all bad,” she allowed. “The pay will be good. The instructors hand out bonuses for action like you wouldn’t believe.”
He hummed. “That is good. Finished eating?”
Casca looked down at the dregs of soup left in her bowl. “I’ll finish it in a sec. Actually… could you run me a bath?”
Her man nodded, then planted a soft kiss on her forehead before leaving the bed. As the sound of running water reached her ears, she looked down at her soup and… brooded.
Because she’d glossed over a little part, right near the end – between her getting home and him doing the same. She had mostly tried to sleep, but also…
She’d replayed that moment over and over, where she’d shot the gloom and its trainer. Not just because she’d shot a man – though she was sure there’d be a few nightmares in her future about that – but because it was so easy to reverse the roles.
If the Jennys ever manage to catch on… If they raid the academy, the way we raided the Night Folk…
She wasn’t afraid of getting shot, except in the most abstract sense. No, if it ever came close to that she’d flop down and surrender immediately. But…
But Hoshi wouldn’t. The thought made her feel bad in an entirely different way from whatever it was the Safeguard was doing to her aura or whatever the fuck. Like some muscle deep in the middle of her body was clenching, trying to squeeze itself to death in her core.
She could hear the tone of the splashing change as Hoshi’s tiny-ass apartment tub gradually filled. It wasn’t- I didn’t expect it to be like this. To last this long or be this… strong. She finished the soup, choking it down despite not really being hungry. She’d only felt this emotion once before, and… that was the worst day of her life. Is this what love is? It hurts…
It really did. Hoshi came back and he helped her out of bed, and they had a half-sexy half-exhausted session of bathing. She felt better as she crawled back into bed, nude and slightly damp.
“Thanks, babe. I feel like a princess…” A sleepy princess. Hopefully I’m ‘naturally’ tired enough to nod off, now…
Hoshi smiled, and planted another kiss on her forehead. “You are a princess, sunshine.”
She whined. “Hoshi, that was terrible. That’s like, a grandma-level thing to say.”
One last kiss, this time on the lips. “Made you smile, though.”
As the sun set through the drawn blinds, Casca felt her man’s breathing even out beside her.
…He really is my man now, isn’t he? And as much as the thought made the thing inside her twist and writhe, that meant she was his woman. It was meant to be… easy. Easy come, easy go, no big attachments. Fun. I’m not having fun, right now.
And yet, the thought of it stopping made her want to die. Fuck. Casca Kichi is meant to be a bad bitch super-spy… She’s not meant to fall in love…
Eventually whatever arcane mysticism the move was judging her by allowed her to sleep, and Casca drifted down into a deep darkness. If there were dreams in that darkness, they didn’t survive the morning light.