Ice Pie [SpyxFamily][SI]

[Lambeard]

Oh, and I keep forgetting, but this is the cold war, and the looming threat of a potential nuclear exchange is a very real issue that I sort of gloss over because most of my life experience is in a world where WW3 is a distant and unlikely event while brushfire wars and terrorism are more immediate threats.

Click to shrink...

Well that paragraph didn't age well at all.

 

[Nugar]

Well that paragraph didn't age well at all.

Click to shrink...

Picture this. I'm sitting here in my chair. I read this comment about that old statement. I kind of look around at... everything. I kind of half chuckle as a few tears escape my eye.

I award you with my saddest 'lol'.

So anyway. I've seized on a certain mania, much like the impulse that made me start this thing way back when SpyxFamily first came out. Here's two short chapters I wrote this past week. One more is currently exclusive to patrons.


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xxxxxxxxx Chapter five:


"So you've got a date Saturday evening with a girl who wants a cover as badly as you do. That's kinda impressive, Father."

He nodded. "It's an unlikely event but it might be our salvation." He frowned slightly. 'It might be too convenient. The odds of someone learning of my mission and putting her in to be a double agent is low, but so is a woman, who's that beautiful, being desperate for a date,' he mused to himself.

Hmm. Her thoughts definitely didn't indicate she was a double agent. I'll keep an psychic eye on her, of course, but I think she's legit. I better try to keep Loid from talking himself out of a deal with her.

Heh, the man is rightfully paranoid, but I think the real problem here is that he's savvy and intelligent enough that narrative convenience slash literal deus ex makes him suspicious.

"So she's definitely beautiful, and I got the impression she's fairly smart. Being unmarried I could see, but she's never had a boyfriend? What do you think, Father? Strict religious upbringing or just not attracted to men?"

"Ah, that's a good question, Anya," he replied. "I was thinking it was suspicious, but you're right, there are a number of perfectly legitimate reasons for her to be in this position. Nasty rumors about her might even explain why she's so desperate for a date."

I nodded, putting the conversation on pause until we got back inside the apartment. Loid carried the big bags of clothes for us. I carried what I could when I could, but I couldn't contribute much. We still needed to pick up shoes, and it was also getting about time for a grocery run.

Once we got inside, we found Frankie at the dining table, still sorting through various census data, building a pool of unmarried women between the ages of eighteen and forty.

"Good news, Uncle Frankie. Father got himself a date for Saturday," I announced cheerfully. "It's almost as if women would throw themselves at him."

Frankie rolled his eyes, but did look at Loid, who nodded.

"I need everything you can get on Yor Briar. She actually did approach me, claiming to need a date to an event. She's black haired, late twenties, red-brown eyes, and built like a ballerina. She claims she's never so much as had a boyfriend, and was starting to stand out as strange."

"That is suspiciously convenient," he admitted. "Lesbian or strictly religious?"

"Or just not attracted to anyone at all," I added, mildly concerned that Frankie had drawn the same conclusions. "Or it could be even stranger circumstances."

"I'll talk to Frankie about it. Go put up what clothes you can right now, we'll be leaving again shortly."

I nodded, and laboriously dragged the bags of clothing one by one to my room. I felt a little chastised. I'd gotten a little too familiar there. Being seen as a co-conspirator could be a good thing, but equally they probably didn't need my inane amateur comments.

They didn't say anything about it, not even in their minds, but that kind of unvoiced irritation doesn't come through psychic telepathy at all.

So anyway. Most of the stuff we'd bought was custom tailored, made right there in the store. None of it was starched stiff, so it could go right in my closet and drawers. The closet worried me a bit, but it had a second, lower pole I could actually reach. I made quick enough work of it that I was actually made it back in the living room before Loid called for me.

"So you'll babysit Anya Saturday evening. I doubt you have any trouble. We'll grab some snacks while we're out," Loid finished.

"What about when the both of us need to do something?" he asked.

"We'll hire a sitter. Anything suspicious is well hidden and Anya will tell us if something happens." He glanced over at me. "All done?"

I nodded.

Together, the two of us went shopping.

Shoes didn't take long. Two pair of standard, if high end, girl's shoes, a pair of exercise trainers, and a pair of boots for bad weather. We'd need winter gear eventually but we were fine for now.

Afterward, we hit a grocery store. I never went to Germany in my first life, but I had heard they didn't go for the mega market type stores. Most of the stores we went to seemed more like some sort of bodega type place. Although not the dismal hellscape of 1984 East Germany, Ostania definitely lacked the variety I was used to seeing in the twenty first century.

Lots of fresh stuff, a lot of dried bulk foods, but relatively low in the kind of processed foods and frozen 'heat and eat' stuff I was used to seeing.

I had a particular love of fruit and fruit juices, but here it was pretty much a choice between apple or orange. Snack pastries and cookies were things you got from a bakery, not a grocery store, though sometimes the store was a combo. So for common, extended shelf life snack foods, nuts and hard candies were the main option.

Ostania, like Germany, has a love of hazelnuts. They're decent. Chestnuts are more my thing, and are also common. My favorite nut is the pecan, which wasn't available. Walnuts are good in things but too bitter and woody for me to eat them straight. I personally don't care for peanuts much, but I do like peanut butter. We got both, because I'm not the only one in the house.

Candy is okay. I particularly like anything sour lemon flavored. They had a few options. Again, most people go to an actual candy shop if they want candy.

The main reason I bring this up is because of what happened at the cash register. The old guy manning it rang everything up, told Loid he had a dime in change, and then made a frog croaking sound in his throat. Almost like he was choking.

Except I was listening to his thoughts. He didn't add up shit, he just took Loids money and gave him a dime back. Then congratulated himself for the 'natural sounding ribbit' and making contact with the agent.

I realized I had missed whatever code phrase Loid had given him. Dammit. To sooth my ego a bit, I asked for the receipt and pretended to go over it as we left the store.

"You gave him two twenties," I noted, still looking at the purchase list.

"Hmm?" Loid asked.

"He owed you four fifty-five." I gave him my best effort at a piercing look. "You know he overcharged you. If it was just a matter of keeping the change, he wouldn't have given you a dime back. And he ribbitted." I deliberately raised one eyebrow.

He shook his head a little. "Keeping everything a secret from you was never going to be possible, was it?"

Heh, with my telepathy? No, no it wasn't.

I just smiled and shook my head.


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The dime was hollow and had microcode in it! Holy shit actual spy bullshit. Loid used a jeweler's loupe to read it.

Unfortunately, it turned out to be an emergency mission requiring both him and Frankie, during the Saturday daytime.

So I got to meet my new babysitter. A fiftyish woman with grown kids and too much time on her hands, one Franziska Blucher.

Deranged neighing?

But no. Just a lonely old widow.

Now, I only somewhat resent that I had to have an adult present. Frankly, I even argued that it was a security risk, and I should be trusted alone, but Loid pointed out that the blowback from him being found out to leave his daughter at home alone was a far more likely risk than any snooping busybody.

So I spent the day reading. Knocked out all the children's lit entertainment, and also got some vocabulary work done.

Writing drills suck.

Having an old woman around didn't help. While she praised my diligence, she also wanted to 'talk' and 'play'. Absolutely would not leave me along for more than fifteen minutes before interrupting again. I think she was bored. There was nothing untoward in her thoughts, but this was definitely not how she saw the day going.

I know I should really work on her, get details and suchlike, but I had so much stuff to do and also I'm not good with small talk. Ultimately, we worked out a deal where 'as a reward' after each book I blitzed through, we'd play a card game and chat, and by chat I mean she'd ramble about her kids before they'd grown up and flew the coop.

Eventually, I got tired. My official bedtime was nine, and I sacked out.

I woke up when Loid got home, his thoughts buzzing. It didn't take long for Frau Blucher to hurry off into the night, and when I crept outside my bedroom, I found Loid holding ice wrapped in a washcloth to the side of his head.

"She hit you?!?" I exclaimed.

"No, no. This is from the mission earlier. It had some complications, spilled over into our 'date'. I actually messed up and ended up claiming we'd been married for a year," he explained loudly as I hurried into the bathroom and grabbed a suspiciously well stocked medical kit.

He didn't trust me to treat him, but admittedly even reaching his head was difficult, so I sat down in another chair and watched him tend to his wounds.

"Honestly, other than being a little naïve and credulous, she genuinely seems like a nice woman. Apparently the reason she never dated was that she worked as an escort after her parents died and she had to provide for both her and her younger brother, at least until they were old enough to have real jobs."

"Oh, dang, she worked as a whore? That could definitely put you off relationships," I admitted.

"Does that bother you?" he asked. "I'm not going to ask where you learned about prostitution."

"No, no. She did what she had to do, for her family. That's pretty impressive. I'm more surprised you're okay with it. Most men seem to hold prostitutes in contempt even if they go to them themselves." I paused, as he was staring at me with one raised eyebrow. "Hey, you know what most young orphan girls end up having to do for food and shelter. Obviously I wanted to know what was likely to happen to me."

He winced and nodded. "I'm glad we're on the same page. It really speaks well of her, to have that kind of strength and willingness to sacrifice."

I nodded.

"So, some stuff happened," he said, clearly glossing over having actually been wounded. "We actually got attacked by some of my enemies after the party. She seemed to buy my hasty explanation of violent psychiatric patients, which probably means she's a bit dim witted, but she also knocked one out that charged us before I could even react, which was surprising."

"I saw her muscles, and the way she stands," I admitted.

"Yeah, I hate to think how many of her clients, or otherwise, must have attacked her for her to put that much effort into learning self-defense. She's a strange mix of incredibly competent and strong of will, but also kind of credulous. I'm not sure how much I'd want to be around her otherwise, but for our mission, she does seem ideal. She's going to move in tomorrow."

"That's amazing," I said quietly. "I genuinely think you must be the best spy in the world."

"Thanks," he said kind of awkwardly. Inwardly, he disagreed. 'The best spies are completely unknown, though. Even the rumor of Twilight being somewhere gets people stirred up. But I suppose I have had a long streak of good luck. Let's hope it stays that way.'


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xxxxxxxxx Chapter six start


Man I miss music. Not that there's no music here, but while I do enjoy classics, our role as 'upper class' means I can't just go down to some underground record shop and start trying to find the alt universe Sex Pistols or something. And Loid had a nice, for the era, TV, but had missed getting a record player. So we largely helped New Mama Yor move in without musical accompaniment.

I wasn't the help I could have been. Loid, as the big strong man, got the big stuff she wanted to keep, and all I could get was small boxes. But she got more and more anxious as I tested boxes to see what I could carry, so I ended up backing off and finding make work to look busy. Dusting things, moving our stuff, that kind of thing.

Might be another point towards being neurodivergent, might just be perfectly natural apprehension at having her stuff gone through for the first time in decades. She did basically raise her brother and herself alone through hard work. It's understandable that she might be a bit territorial.

Loid was right to give her a separate bedroom. I made a note to never go in unless invited.

She's kind of quiet, but I do notice her eyes lingering on me. I couldn't pick up anything telepathically, it wasn't like she was actively talking about me to herself mentally. Just the kind of quietly studious consideration people do sometimes.

Actually, that appeared to be her default mental state. When she did think something, like Loid, it came through clear and static free. She had a lovely mental voice. But she rarely actually thought like that.

Getting close, though, I could feel the way her nerves lit up in waves as she walked, or lifted, or just stood there in a perfectly relaxed but also weirdly high strung pose.

Like, she was constantly on guard for a physical attack, maybe?

She did seem unusually physical. Father's words came back to me.

'I hate to think how many of her clients, or otherwise, must have attacked her for her to put that much effort into learning self-defense.'

Hopefully, we could be something nice in her life.

I made a point of smiling at her when she looked at me. A few reassuring words might help, but I'm not sure what to say given my inherent weirdness. She's got a lot to be stressed over, so I decided to go for 'quietly supportive'.

She did smile back at me whenever I smiled at her. Seemed natural enough. A point against neurdivergence? Or at least against certain kinds of neurodivergence.

Once she got all her stuff in, though, I took her hand and gave it a squeeze. "I'm glad you're living with us now."

A little wordy for a six year old, but she didn't seem to notice.

She smiled back. "I'm glad to be living with you, too."

And she did seem to relax a bit. Might be deception. Again, that kind of wordless emotion was more of a neurochemical thing than the kind of mental voice I could read. Man I wish my telepathy had come with empathy as well. You could almost say I was somewhat neurodivergent as well. I wasn't great with picking up on people's vibes.

I was kinda huggy, though. I've always liked physical contact, and Yor's physicality was fascinating to feel, so I lingered near her for the most part.

Her legs were like pythons wrestling under tights, man. And they were longer than I was tall.

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"I've called in a favor and gotten our wedding certificate backdated a year," Loid explained two days later. "Since it would be suspicious for us to get married right before the school interview."

Yor nodded, accepting that easily.

"And I'll come up with an excuse for your brother about why we've maintained separate apartments until now."

"I'll keep my old place for a while, just in case," she replied. 'Although, now that I've got permission from the shop keeper, I shouldn't have anything to worry about,' she mused.

He nodded. "That's a good idea. I won't pretend that this situation will be easy." He paused while she nodded. "Now, Anya has a genius level intellect, so there's nothing to worry about for her grades. However, there are certain pretenses and mannerisms we'll have to maintain as a family for her to be acceptable at Eden Academy. They are the very top echelon of the wealthy and powerful in the country."

"I'm weird so I've got to learn how to behave properly," I added from my own seat near Yor. "I'm not a troublemaker but until now Father has just let me be me, and that's not going to be good enough for Eden."

"An oversight," Loid commented. "Anya soaks up information like a sponge but doesn't seem to have any social advantages." 'Genius, although useful, does have its disadvantages,' he thought.

Ow. Like, ow. I hadn't realized he'd picked up on my kryptonite so easily. We hadn't even spent much time around people for me to be awkward.

He is some sort of super spy, though. Maxed social knowledge IS to be expected.

Yor was looking at me, with a little bit of surprise.

I squashed my mild embarrassment and dove in anyway. "So if we're going to pretend that we've been a family for a year, we're going to have to get used to each other."

"As well as successfully mimicking the traits of the upper class," Loid added. "So to start, I've prepared a series of likely questions we'll be asked at the interview. As Anya prefers, we should go over them with no preparation to see our weaknesses, then take some time to prepare, and try it again."

"I understand," Yor replied. 'Like a teacher putting a student on the mat the first day, so that the student knows how much they need to learn.'

I perked up at that. Her having a history of martial arts made plenty of sense. Surprised she didn't say 'sensei', but this is Europe. Maybe some descendant of ringen, since we're in a Germanic area. Maybe I've had a subconscious assumption of expecting to run into Japanese stuff since Youjo Senki was a manga, but there's no real reason to think that other than my predisposed tendency to assign the narrative structures of my past life into this one.

With that said, we launched into a faux interview.

It was…

Well, I did okay. Not great. I got flustered and bobbled some words I probably should have practiced saying aloud before trying to use them.

Yor, though. Oof. Definitely not a social master like Loid.

But that's fine. Really. You take the test unprepared to see what you're weak on. Even Yor, who definitely ended up the most stressed of the three of us, ended up acknowledging it not as a setback, but merely a step on the path to success.

It had been a stressful couple of hours, so we went out to the park.

As a family.

Honestly, it was kind of nice.

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AN: I freely admit there's not much here in terms of literary merit. It's really more the fanfiction equivilent of getting a wad of cotton candy thrown at you. At least actual divergences from canon are becoming more clear.

Next chapter is available on my Patreon.

 

[BlackoutSampler]

Looks like Yor isn't becoming quite as fast friends with Anya as in canon. Makes sense, as she's much more a child at heart than Lyod, so the more serious Anya here isn't quite vibing on the same wavelength.

 

[verycoolname]

This is weirdly sweet, and the intelligence feels natural.

 

[matureraven]

"Yeah, I hate to think how many of her client

Click to shrink...

If I did not know canon or that she's an assassin, i'd say she's probably a dominatrix. hahah

 

[Nugar]

Looks like Yor isn't becoming quite as fast friends with Anya as in canon. Makes sense, as she's much more a child at heart than Lyod, so the more serious Anya here isn't quite vibing on the same wavelength.

Click to shrink...

I'm a thinky person like Loid. I'd cuddle the shit out of Yor, though.

This is weirdly sweet, and the intelligence feels natural.

Click to shrink...

Thanks! This will never be literature, the least it can do is be entertaining.

If I did not know canon or that she's an assassin, i'd say she's probably a dominatrix. hahah

Click to shrink...

There's a lot of things odd about Yor. Also, I'd shy away from inviting a strange assassin into my spy home. It's not quite pirates vs ninja rivalry, but still something to be leery of. So since this world does run on narratives...

 

[verycoolname]

I'm a thinky person like Loid. I'd cuddle the shit out of Yor, though.

Click to shrink...

...Didn't she accidentally break her little brother's bones giving him a hug?

 

[Nugar]

...Didn't she accidentally break her little brother's bones giving him a hug?

Click to shrink...

Danger hugs!

No but seriously there's literally generations of both men and women willing to die by thighs.

And none of that matters. Yor needs hugs.

 

[BritishGrenadier]

Ive got to say I'm greatful the necro. I had the entirety of the translated spyxfamily stuff since my brother wanted to read it. and now this gem has gotten my interest in the original story high enough to read it. thank you

 

[NuclearBurrito]

...Didn't she accidentally break her little brother's bones giving him a hug?

Click to shrink...

worth it

More importantly HOLY SHIT a double upload

Christmas came early and made my day several times over!

 

[Nugar]

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xxxxxxxxx Start chapter seven.


'Her hands are so cute and tiny. It takes me back to when I used to hold my little brother's hand,' Yor mused, holding my hand as we walked together.

Loid trailed a bit behind. They had tried holding hands briefly, but Yor had gotten a little flustered. Actually, I think maybe she did like men? Loid is, of course, stupidly handsome. I found a natural way of lubricating their social interactions by inserting myself and briefly demanding attention to shake them out of feedback loops.

Loid was surprisingly quick to worry when Yor had fluffed the 'interview'. Hazard of being a professional who worked with professionals, I guess. And he'd lucked up and got me for a child, and while I was no spy, I was better prepared to play a role than could be reasonably expected. Yor was a great find for the mission, but social stuff was clearly her weak point.

Yor was still thinking about me, and her formerly tiny little brother. 'Hahhh. She's just as delicate as he was. I'd better be careful. Don't want a repeat of that time I hugged him too hard and broke two of his ribs.' She gently squeezed my hand, clearly feeling the tiny little bones roll around each other.

!

Damn, girl!

Physical comedy or tragic 'I hurt those I love the most' drama?

Man, let's hope its physical comedy. I had to resist the urge to yank my hand back. The way I perceived her as holding my hand shifted from 'oh what a cute little girl' to the kind of 'this animal is so delicate I could accidentally crush it' feeling I got from holding small animals like kittens or birds or mice. Not so much the urge to hurt, but the awareness of 'other'.

"Father is very smart and very skilled," I told Yor, "but he's wrong sometimes too. He's so used to knowing how to do everything that he's sometimes impatient when other people don't instantly pick up things. I know he's worried about getting me into the best school, but don't let him push you too hard. If you need some time prepare, remind him." I turned and gave him the stink eye. "Remember, Father. This is a team effort, that's the point of a family."

For his part, Loid did look a little bit bashful. "I'm sorry, Yor. Anya is right, as usual. I allowed my worry to make me treat you coldly."

She shook her head. "No, it's all right. I understand that the answers I gave were not sufficient. And you haven't treated me badly at all. You've just been quiet. I understand the need to think."

Huh. Yeah, actually, all his complaints were in his head. Unlike Yor, who only uses her mental voice occasionally, Loid keeps a running commentary going in his head, and I'd lost track of the difference between spoken words and thought.

"Well, that's why we're taking a break in the park. It's a stressful time for everyone, and it's a new environment for you. As Anya said, if I'm pushing you too hard, please say something. You're doing us a tremendous favor, and shouldering most of the hard work as well. What do you say to getting a nice meal, and then finding some entertainment? Upper class stuff so we can practice our roles, but less intense and stressful as just sitting down at the table and studying."

"That sounds nice," she replied, offering him her hand.

Arm in arm, with me on her other side, we left the park and headed for an evening of upper class entertainment.


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A fancy restaurant was our first stop, early in the evening. Really more around tea time, since we'd gotten out and about early.

Under the guise of teaching me, Loid had gauged Yor's knowledge of fancy etiquette.

I mean, and mine. Mine was certainly lacking. I had vaguely remembered something about starting from the outside and working my way in, and a few other tidbits, but that was about it. And some of that was wrong.

The biggest thing that threw me was the way Europeans keep the knife in the right hand and use the fork in the left, where Americans tend to use the knife in their right, cut things up, then swap hands. I do consider the European way superior, but it's tricky to overcome a lifetime of doing it the other way.

Yor knew most of it, though she clearly hadn't spent much if any time at the truly fancy places like we were at. She marveled at the silverware, which was admittedly pretty swanky. Most of it was genuine silver, unless I miss my guess. And like Yor, I was kind of surprised at the knives being actually sharp. Most of my experience at nice restaurants involved the usual American standard of serrated knives, which disguised their dull blades by simply tearing through food.

I don't like serrated knives.

But these were elegant, sharp, and, judging by the way Yor spun one around a finger, well balanced.

'I've never killed someone seated at a fancy restaurant,' Yor thought to herself. 'I'll have to remember the quality of their blades.'

…whaaaaaaaat?

"Anya, don't stare like that, it's rude," Loid chided.

My eyes must have been as big around as the plates under our food. My thoughts were sputtering like a cold diesel engine. What-wut-WHAT-huh-wat-Wat-WHAT.

Yor held the knife in a thrusting grip, making a few tiny motions like stab, stab, which she followed through into slicing up her meat drizzled in some sort of sauce which now no longer mattered in the slightest.

But, once I thought about it, it made sense. She was clearly an expert at self-defense. Training and probable inclination plus probably a good chunk of talent. Plus one of the most dangerous jobs in the world, short of literally being in active combat. Men do terrible things to women, after all.

I managed to overcome my shock and returned to my meal. I was going to get the merlu koskera but I managed to remember that the time I'd tried it before, it had slices of hard boiled eggs. I could pick around the yolks but it was easier to just get something else. I got sole meuniere. It's hard to go wrong with butter fried anything.

One of the major benefits to this new life was enjoying the change in taste buds. I get to try everything for the first time again. A few things had already stood out. I'd never cared much for sauerkraut in my first life, but I liked it here. I hadn't liked German potato salad, kartoffelsalat, at all in my past life, but despite the vinegar on my delicate loli tongue, it had proven considerably more palatable when Loid made it. And peanuts had proven to be a surprisingly nice snack, far tastier than I'd ever considered them before, even more so than the hazelnuts.

Still didn't like hard egg yolk, though, or spatzle, or most pastas, really. And walnuts were still too bitter and woody. I also considered cauliflower to be a pale imitation of good broccoli. Really, the main change seemed to be that my new taste buds handled vinegary flavors better.

It was a nice meal. Genuinely tasty, and the tiny little rich people proportions were perfectly adequate for my coin wallet sized stomach. We got some etiquette lessons in, and made a plan to incorporate them into our meals at home until they were habit.

Unfortunately, that was the last of the really pleasant experiences that evening.

After that, we went to an opera.

I'd largely been neutral on the topic of operas in my past life. I like music, and I like orchestra music, but the bombastic singing in other languages was meh at best.

But now, I wasn't watching it from behind a TV screen. I was actually in the audience.

Between the crowd's futz of mental noise and the bellowing Italian-

Italian? What was Italy called here, again? Dangit.

-of the woman dressed as either Athena, Queen of the Zombie-Stags or Dra'nakyuek, Genarch Primate of Dying Stars as she blathered on about betrayal, sin, heartbreak, and murder. I didn't even understand Italian and I could tell that whatever this thing was, it was at least as depressing as that one with the fucking clown.

Between the headache from the crowd and the growing contempt for opera, I'd drawn up into a ball and had my hands over my ears to try and stave off at least the audible horror.

I made the mistake of glancing over to see Yor's reaction.

Poor woman.

I couldn't pick up on her thoughts due to the static from everyone else, but the expression on her face…

It kinda reminded me of this video I saw once of this dog, just sitting on the ground while multiple people around him yelled incoherently at each other. Not scared, because he's clearly not the target, but not happy either. Mostly, it was just confusion tinged with worry. Eyes so wide you could see the whites, darting back and forth. If it was an anime she'd have question marks floating over her head.

It was almost funny, but mostly just kind of upsetting because she was clearly uncomfortable and stressed.

I leaned over to Loid and spoke quietly. "Maybe not the opera, next time. Even rich people don't like everything. Let's try a play, or ballet, or a symphony or something. All this noise is giving me a headache."

He nodded, though he did seem disappointed. Like it was another complication to the plan.

After that, we'd headed home, and ended up going by some sort of political rally thing. Loid said something about patriotism and political camps being important for the hoity toity to have visible strong opinions on.

Oh man.

Remember how I said emotions don't really come through mental thought?

I was wrong.

I was so wrong.

What a fucking nightmare. On top of the bit of headache I already had from Dra'nakyuek and the audience earlier, a crowd of angry men shouting both audibly and in their heads was a nightmare. Holy shit, you just don't even know. I thought social stuff was my kryptonite before. I actually started crying and instinctively trying to pull out of the crowd.

Horrible. Just the actual worst.

I mean, the noise sucked but it was just so astonishingly vile. Even if I could catch maybe one actual word in a hundred the sheer vitriol being expressed made me feel like my brain was being boiled in hate and hot sauce.

Like the kind of shitty, way too fucking hot stuff they sold at low end hardware stores and such. With names like FATAL ANAL MALESTROM and DISTILLED TONGUE RAPE SAUCE. Now imagine a big pot of that shit with a bunch of the kind of people it's marketed to standing around bellowing about immigrants and snowflakes and fags, and they're all poking at you and yelling directly at you because it's all your fault and they want you to agree with them and how dare you look away even for a second because another one of them is yelling at you and you're getting bruised from finger jabs and going deaf and their greasy sweaty spittle is flecking your face.

Now bathe in it. All that hate and chemical pain up in your everywhere. I have no mouth yet I must scream style jar of fucking torture.

But I did have a mouth.

And I did scream.


It ain't easy, being psychic.

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xxxxxxxxx Start chapter eight.


I didn't faint or anything, but Yor was quick to snatch me up from the ground and retreat from the crowd, which I was sure to appreciate whenever I was capable of appreciating things again.

"I think the crowd scared her," Yor told Loid. "She might be a very self-possessed little girl, but that's a lot of angry men shouting over there."

"Head hurts," I mumbled, squeezing the bridge of my nose.. "Everyone is so loud. All shouting."

I don't know what else they said, but we ended up going home. My headache faded almost immediately as we got far enough away from the crowd, but I still felt drained.

Once we got home, I requested orange juice. It had a kind of chemical tang to it, and I rolled a sip over my tongue, thinking about it.

The oranges were almost certainly imported.

Old juice.

Preservatives…

Sodium benzoate, potassium sorbate, malic acid? Maybe some additional vitamin C and E?

I got up and got the waxed cardboard box out of the refrigerator. Yep, pretty much nailed it, plus some 'orange essential oils. I was surprised to see honey on there as well.

This stuff was probably considered pretty expensive. I put the carton back in the fridge.

Both Loid and Yor were staring at me. Yor looked worried. Loid looked pensive.

I toddled back over to the couch and climbed back up. Man it sucks being tiny.

"So. That's never happened before," I announced with faux cheer.

"Anya, honey, what happened?" Yor asked.

I shook my head. "It was like too much noise all at once. Crowds have always given me headaches, but that many people shouting was even worse. Just pounding in my head, making my ears hurt. The only other time it's ever been even close to that bad was when I was taking the entrance exam for Eden. All those sounds of kids mumbling and talking and crying and fidgeting made it hard to concentrate, but it still wasn't that bad compared to this."

"Hyper stimulation?" Loid asked. 'I may need to review the literature about savants. That's a complication I don't need.'

I opened my mouth, then closed it and thought about it. I wonder what literature there is available on savants, idiot savants, and other stuff this far back. I mean, I know that I'm not-

Well, actually, I am pretty goddamn divergent, ain't I? Telepathy ain't typical.

"…Maybe?" I hazarded.


xxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxx


So I went to bed. Kind of a downer ending on the day.

I mean, on one hand, it's not really a big deal. Lots of people don't like crowds. Hell, I didn't like them in my first life, though they never caused any kind of debilitating effect like they did here. Of course, I wasn't psychic in my last life. Was this an old me thing exacerbated by new me hardware? A purely new me thing?

I mean, shit, I was like four or five, given my own imperfect memories. My new birth certificate was a lie I only got away with by having reincarnated knowledge. I can't expect to have all the resiliencies of an adult anymore.

Yor was still kind of stressed by the whole change in circumstances she had, and now worried about me.

But what really sucked was listening to Loid second guess himself.

In one evening I'd gone from a reliable co-conspirator to a liability.

And that hurt.


xxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxx


Breakfast the next morning was a quiet affair. I'd slept badly. Loid stayed up late. Yor looked chic as always, but also a bit apprehensive?

I joked about my weakness to social stuff, but this newly discovered problem seems to be genuinely a problem. I'm cute, I can probably get a pass on being awkward. But breaking down in a crowd...

But I'm a child! Barely more than a toddler! It's probably not a real problem, just a reminder that I am not, in fact, all knowing, all competent?

Loid's worrying, though. Some of those books are getting fresh creases in their spines.

Too many hits close together, I think. I keep focusing on Yor's stress level, because I worry about her. Loid's the professional, right? He can handle it.

But the dude literally got injured on a job in a firefight last Saturday. He's got a massive job to do and they keep sending him little jobs and the guy has GOT to be managing some sort of trauma, possibly including PTSD. To function as a master spy, he's used to controlling all of the variables.

I give Frankie a little bit of shit but I'm one hundred percent certain he's a master at what he focuses on, and he's Loids main support. The only other person Loid relies on is himself, because he can control himself.

Shit.

Would it be better if I told him what he had stumbled upon in that shitty orphanage, I.E. me?

Or would that just mean I was too valuable to risk and I'd get whisked away to a Westalis lab? This ain't a USA vs USSR proxy war. I'm not even sure who the 'good' guys are here, if such a thing exists.

And I sure as fuck wouldn't want to end up nabbed by the CIA or whatever anyway.

Yor got a call before she went off to work. I didn't really listen in during the call, which was definitely a fucking mistake.

Because of what Yor thought as she went back into her room to change clothes.

'The Shopkeeper told me I'd have at least a week before another assassination, maybe two. Oh well. At least it's during the day, and work is covered. We still need to practice for that interview when I get home.'

Spoiler: Uh. What.

AN: More on my patreon.

 

[Clotho]

I just love spy family, can't wait for Anya to get a dog.
Edit:
So we haves superspy father, super assasin for a mother, all that is left is a dog who can see a future and meeting an uncle who is a member of secret police.
Did I forget anyone?

 

[ForwardRewind]

Of course, I wasn't psychic in my last life.

Click to shrink...

Nonsense. You don't know that for sure. The stress of dealing with it could have simply had you block off your own access to being able to read minds.

 

[BF110C4]

I just love spy family, can't wait for Anya to get a dog.
Edit:
So we haves superspy father, super assasin for a mother, all that is left is a dog who can see a future and meeting an uncle who is a member of secret police.
Did I forget anyone?

Click to shrink...

The female super-spy stealth tsundere borderline yandere which tries to act as the Betty to Yor's Veronica and fails due to her evil thoughts putting Anya in red alert mode (she planned to use a hyper-strict shedule to force her surrogate daughter to become an elite student).

 

[Lambeard]

Considering how well this Anya is getting along with Loid I'm curious to see how he connects with Yor. In the original she was just a sort nice mother figure with a cool background which is more than enough for canon Anya but how Yor wil react and get along with an actually smart child remains to be seen.

 

[Nugar]

xxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxx Start chapter nine.


I'm not too sure about this whole 'new mama' thing, at least now that I've found out she's not a goddamn escort, she's a fucking assassin.

How did I miss this?

No, seriously, how? I hear people's thoughts!

What in the actual fuck do I do about this?

Should I do anything about this?

I kinda need to do something about this, don't I?

But... Maybe not?

I've been thinking about this whole situation in terms of narrative logic.

I know, I know. A character in a story thinking about being a character in a story is the kind of bullshit that gets old really, really fast. But I'm exactly the kind of nerd that can't NOT think about it. So, despite my best efforts, I'm kinda dwelling on it.

The existence of spies is something I'm used to being a thing in both lives.

The existence of telepaths was fictional speculation in my last life, real in this life.

But the idea of a James Bond-esque dude adopting a tiny telepath without knowing it is the kind of thing I can only really frame in terms of a story. It's too unlikely. Too many coincidences have to line up.

I attribute these things to a Being X, aka probably God.

I guess it would be kinda weaksauce if the mother figure was just some regular woman. That wouldn't be narratively balanced at all.

An escort might balance that a bit, especially with a tragic past and various issues. So far, I'd kinda been thinking about the potential story I'm in being something along the lines of Firestarter, or maybe more 'Hanna', with the super soldier teen girl raised by a CIA agent.

In either of those, a 'hooker with a heart of gold' type character would fit pretty well.

An assassin?

It's not…. NOT on theme.

Ugh. I have lied to Loid. I literally have no talent for acting. Too much of a literature nerd, too focused on themes and tropes to shut up and be a real person. And it's even worse here, because like Loid, I can't help but notice the 'invisible' stagehands setting up props.

This show is gonna be shit. Actually a shitshow. No one's going to want to read about me or watch me on screen. For fucks sake Tanya was less autistic than I'm being.

This is it. My darkest hour.

I'm literally handling my reincarnation worse than Tanya fucking 'I have no idea how to communicate' Degurechaff.

I'm a Muppet that desperately needs the guiding hand of a proper actor up my ass.

Loid came and sat down beside me, startling the hell out of me.

I hadn't even realized I'd ended up sitting on the couch, staring blankly at nothing, lost in my own head.

"It occurs to me," Loid started quietly, "that I have done you a disservice."

"What?" I asked. "No, why? I'd be rotting in that orphanage without you!" I protested.

He shook his head. "No, that's not what I'm talking about," he replied.

"Hmm?"

"You are not an agent. You're not even a civilian. You are a child-"

"Hey!" I protested. "I'm not just a child!" I didn't like where he was going with this at all.

"Not just any child, I admit. You're extremely mature for your age, and you're the kind of precocious genius that only occurs once in a generation or two." He put his hand on my shoulder and leaned closer. "But Anya, you're still not an adult, and it's wrong for me to put that kind of pressure on you. No, it's even more wrong for me to allow you to put that kind of pressure on yourself."

???

Now I'm not even sure where he's going with this at all.

"Come here," he said, pulling me into his lap.

Uh.

What.

This is kinda gay, not going to lie.

Wait, no it's not. What?

What even are my feelings? Am… Am I…

Crying?

I don't like crying! Crying sucks! This whole thing sucks!

"I remember what it was like, you know," he told me quietly, wrapping his big arms around me. They were so long compared to my little frame that it felt like they both went around me twice. "The orphanage. I remember having fights over toys. Over food. There's no one you can rely on but yourself. Anything you wanted to keep, you have to hide. Any time you felt sick, or sad, or lonely, you had to keep it to yourself, or you'd get picked on. Abused. The other kids were rivals. The adults were scary."

I nodded, dashing at the tears in my eyes. I wasn't sobbing, but I just could not god damn turn off the water faucets in my eyes.

Loid continued. "I think, no, I know I had it easier than you. I was taller. Stronger. It was easier to blend in."

"B-boys aren't really stronger than girls," I protested with a little bit of a tremor. "You're just forced to repress it and pretend."

He chuckled a few times. "Anya. I'm not talking about boys versus girls here. But boys do have it easier. They just have to put up with other boys. Girls have to put up with girls, and the way boys treat girls."

Seems like bullshit to me, but it was hard to argue from my previous perspective because I couldn't tell him about my previous perspective. Though admittedly, I was faced with the incipient horror of growing up as a probable whore in eastern Europe. He might have a point.

"No, what I'm saying is that I was basically normal. I fit in."

"You're literally the top spy in Europe, mister Twilight," I replied as sardonically as possible given I was blind with tears.

He froze briefly, then I felt him shrug. "Been eavesdropping, huh Anya?"

"Sorry," I said meekly, realizing that I'd fucked up. Again. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't going to sell me off or something."

He chuckled once. "Yeah. That's what I'm talking about. Maybe I was a little better at fighting, at sports, at school. But I'm a spy, Anya. I was selected and trained because I already had the right mindset. I've always had the gift at blending in. Whereas you stand out the moment you open your mouth. So for all that time, you kept your mouth shut, didn't you? Hiding your intelligence. Paying attention. Listening. Watching for threats."

I gave him a kind of halfhearted shrug, and a reluctant nod.

"But you know what I've noticed most about you?"

I shook my head, eyes squeezed shut.

"You're very empathic. You care about others a lot, don't you?"

I made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, shaking my head. Empath? Hah! I can't pick up on emotions for shit! Pure telepath here, bud!

"You disagree?" he asked, sounding like he was smiling. "Anya, think back to yesterday, right after we did the mock interview."

Yeah? What about it?

"I was disappointed, remember?"

"yeah"

"I'm under a lot of stress. I don't say that as an excuse for my behavior, but it's true. This mission, Anya, it's important. There are a lot of people in both Westalis and Ostania who think their problems will be solved if they can just beat the other country in a war. But you know what that would mean, right? Hundreds of thousands, even millions of people would be hurt. So all my work as a spy here isn't to beat Ostania, it's to support the people keeping the peace. I can't go into details, but my job isn't just about stopping the bad people, it's about helping the good people, and trying to convince the ones in the middle that peace is what's best for everyone."

"Like the Desmonds?"

He nodded. "Lord Desmond is a major player in the Ostanian government, and in business. If I know what he knows, I'll know how we can convince him that he should work for peace and not war. Ordinarily I would never support a mission that involves children. Children should be kept safe, not caught up in the messy world of spying."

"Glad you did," I mumbled, looking away from him.

Loid hugged me harder. "I am, too, Anya. I would have never met a special girl like you if I hadn't."

I'm daddy's special girl. Gaaaaaay.

"And you've tried so hard to be a big help. And you are a big help. I knew Eden Academy was exclusive, but I didn't realize how hard they tried to keep it that way. That test was ridiculous, Anya. There was stuff on there I didn't learn until middle school, even high school. I know adults who couldn't pass that test on the first try. The only way a child was likely to pass that test was exactly what they had planned. Their parents got the test and spent months having tutors teach them to pass it. And you passed it the first time you saw it."

I am an adult, Loid.

"But you know what really stood out? When I was worried about how badly Yor was doing in the fake interview, you stepped in. You saw how stressed I was making her. You saw how worried I was. And you tried to fix it. And you did a good job. Yor isn't a spy. I shouldn't expect her to be able to instantly improvise. She's not trained to do it."

But she probably is trained in thirty-seven ways to kill a man with only a thumb. And that's its own hornets' nest of problems.

"You're so smart, and you're so responsible, and you tried to take it all on yourself. Because you're a bit scared, aren't you? We're not a real family yet, but this is the closest you've gotten, isn't it?"

Shit. He might be right. I don't want to miss out on this. Not just because it's an adventure, but because I like Loid. I like the sound of his mind.

And dammit, I like Yor, too. I liked going out with them yesterday. Sure, the end of the evening kind of sucked, but the other? It was nice.

But even if he does keep his promise to make sure I get a home once this mission ends, I can guarantee it won't be with him. Whatever kind of narrative bullshit in this world allows spies to become famous probably won't let him have the kind of time he would need to actually adopt me. Maybe if I told him about my telepathy, but that sounds… risky.

"You're very smart, and you're good at watching people. But what you don't know is that it's not your job to keep everything together. And I shouldn't slip up enough that you feel you need to."

His words were quiet, kind of self-recriminatory.

"Yor fell into our home when we needed her most. You're exactly the kind of child Eden Academy is supposed to find and elevate to the upper class. We've got all the tools we need to succeed, Anya. All of them. A Mama, a Papa, and you. We can do this, don't worry."

"I'm going to speak up if I see you make a mistake," I told him, craning my head so I could look up at him.

He smiled and rubbed my back. "As you should, Anya."

Oh man, that rubbing. I couldn't help it and kind of arched my back into his hand.

"Oh, do you have a sore back?" he asked.

"Itchy," I said. It's not really a lie, but not really the truth. Frankly, I just enjoy scratches more than rubs.

Loid started scratching my back through my dress, slowly increasing in vigor.

Oh man. Bliss. If this was an anime I'd sprout cat ears and a tail and arch my back like a bridge.

"So it's okay, Anya. There's only one thing you need to remember."

I was barely paying attention anymore. Oh man, I forgot how good a good back scratching felt. I haven't had good physical contact like this since my memories of this life started forming.

"I won't throw you away for not being perfect. But it's easier to make plans to get around complications if I know about the complication ahead of time."

He sounded stern then, and a flash of fear cut through the haze of pleasure.

But… yeah.

"I get headaches in crowds," I admitted. "All the noise, all the people, it's too much. The audience at the opera is about as many people in close proximity as I can handle. Honestly, the test I took at Eden had too many kids in there. It's why I missed some. I could barely concentrate."

The shame. I don't think, logically, that I should feel it. But I do. Shame.

My erstwhile father nodded. "Thank you for being brave enough to tell me that, Anya. It's something to ask the Headmaster about. Tell me, what do you know about savants?"

"Enough to know that I don't fit all of the symptoms."

I'm not autistic or a savant, I'm a reincarnate. But I can't say that.

"True," he agreed. "But there's a growing amount of research that indicates it's less a specific condition and more of a sliding scale of degrees. Many, if not all, of the brightest people in the world share certain personality traits to one degree or another. You're definitely one of the brightest people in the world, so looking at those traits can give us a framework to understanding. And one of the most standout symptoms is the way certain people with savant syndromes react to noise and hyper stimulation."

I'm not autistic. I'm a reincarnate. With telepathy. Who hates the noise and pressure of crowds.

"I understand emotions, though," I protested.

"Yes, you do. You're quite empathic. But hyper-empathy is another trait, actually. But the point is, Anya, I'm not diagnosing you with a defect, far from it. You're a very bright little girl and you don't have to feel defensive. What I'm saying is, you don't have to hide when you're bothered by things. Tell me, and we'll come up with a plan. Okay? We're a family now. It was you that said we'd figure it out together, or what was the point of a family at all, right?"

So here I am, sitting in the lap of an adult blond man who's telling me-

-well, okay, maybe he's paraphrasing, like, A LOT-

"-Okay, Papa."

x
x
x
x


AN: More on my patreon.

Some people have complained about 'character noticing the story' stuff. I've also heard, not specifically about this story but in a more general sense, complaints about isekais/SIs that focus too much, or any at all, on the mechanics of isekai/SI stories BEING isekai. On one hand, there's that author urge to explain. Skippy the spacebat. Rob the bored omnipotent. Just the HOLY SHITness of going to another world, which would be a massive wrench in the logical framework we all build to explain the HEREness of here.

We read too many fucking isekais and SI stories to be at all entertained by yet another asshole being shocked and amazed that 'they're in another world'!

It's better if you just ignore it and launch into the story. We're all primed to willingly suspend that particular bit of disbelief in the goal of finding acceptable entertainment escapism to avoid the 'Holy shit we're living in the worst timeline. Like, seriously, holy shit guys, what the fuck, the entire goddamn world is actually a dumpsterfire right fucking now and it's actually gettting WORSE fuuuuuck'.

But. I didn't exactly go into this story with a plan. And because I didn't have a plan, I sorta ended up writing SiAnya as if actually I was her. Not the more idealized, already grown up with it and accepting it sort of SI I have with No Promises, or the more generalized 'not an SI just someone from our world' I've done in other pseudoSI type isekai stories. Me. About as unfiltered me as it gets. And I'm a fairly weird dude. Typical nerd, and I think a lot about stories and narrative works.

So, honestly, I would be having those thoughts. It ain't ideal. In a better world, I'd have cleaned it up and cut all that. But it's already happened, so it's what we've got.

However, I did make plans to get rid of it in future chapters. A sort of mini character development arc, that ends in acceptance of, and sinking into, the role of a psychic little girl with a spy for a father and an assassin for a mother.

This chapter was the peak of that. The conclusion is the next chapter I just sent to patrons. And while a little bit of, not fourth wall breaking so much as, 'If God is really watching, the least we can do is be entertaining' will probably still crop up a little bit here and there, the character knowing they're in a story stuff is concluded.

Anya is learning from Loid, overcoming her feeling that 'this can't be real', and accepting her situation. She's still going to be credulous, believing that she's living in a world where literally anything can happen, but at least she'll stop trying to peek behind the curtain.

 

[Badger.Black]

That was honestly really cute to see Loid sit down with his daughter and be a damn good dad for someone who grew up in an orphanage without one and became a spy. Like, that is some really good Dad-ing on his part what he just gone did, not knowing she is a reincarnate and a psychic.

Also, I, at least, am enjoying Insert Anya's thinking on tropes. But then I kinda think in a similar way so I'm probably not the best judge on that.

TL;DR: Loid good dad, I like.

 

[Another Guy]

I'm pretty sure that Loid is 2/3 way of the "I will not become attached... I become Dad" route that many men pass throught, this is a very good example.

We read too many fucking isekais and SI stories to be at all entertained by yet another asshole being shocked and amazed that 'they're in another world'!

Click to shrink...

Yes. To all of this, yes. The amount of IS angsting at the start of a Isekai situation are too many and it gets too tiresome after a while, specially if they don't grow to accept it and are stuck in it, sometimes there timeskips of months and they still are stuck in the same mentality and that just frustrate.

I can see some character developtment with that talk, and I hope it continues. About the character trait of thinking in tropes and narrative... It really depends on who like it (some do some doens't), I don't particularly care as long as the charater understand that what they are living is their reality and reality doesn't work like what they think, that people they interact with are not following a script, that this is not a game, that action have consecuences, and that they can't live thinking they can follow a set pattern. Dont get rid of the trait, everyone is quirky in their own way, just don't let that what define the character in its entirety.

Good chapter and good work, overall.

 

[Nugar]

xxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxx Start chapter ten.


Yor came home right on time, exactly like she'd spent the day at her usual job.

Not at all like she'd changed clothes, went out, killed a man, went to her old apartment, cleaned up, changed back, and came 'home'.

Papa and I were waiting for her.

He used the excuse of taking time off from work to help prepare me for the school. Studying mostly, but also going over the interview.

But mostly studying. And that was mostly writing drills.

Fucking normalschrift. My hand is tired. Damn my original education in Louisiana, one of like two places in the US that does French everything, including handwriting. The stylistic difference between French ronde and German normalschrift is the difference between wiping your ass with silk and punching a man in the throat.

In between, we covered vocabulary, mostly pronunciation. My efforts to pronounce big words was rather hit or miss.

We also prepared a light supper, 'abendbrot'. Papa made eintopf, which was basically a crock pot stew. Lots of carrots, potatoes, lentils, and tender chunks of pork that was falling apart into shreds. Served with warmed up brotchen, these crusty little rolls which were pretty tasty.

Honestly, to break character for a moment, I wanted to cut the end of one off, pack it full of stew, and cram it in my face.

Yor had this look of wonder on her face when she came in.

"Mama's home!" I cheered, and threw myself at her in a full body tackle-hug.

Well, it'd be a proper glomp if I was 200% taller. As it was, it was more a glomp-let. I ended up hugging her left thigh, because she hesitated too long before bending down and catching me.

Papa took her light coat and hung it up, before offering but not demanding a hug.

They didn't hug.

Little steps.

"Papa and I studied a lot today!" I told her. "We practiced handwriting and vocabulary," I added, enunciating distinctly. "How was your day, Momma?"

Whoops, a little slip there. 'Momma' was my first life. I was trying to go for a mix of 'Mother' and 'Mama' here.

"It was fine," she lied.

She actually briefly, mentally, regretted that she had to lie, but didn't think of any details.

"But it's a lot better now that I'm here." She paused, then added, "Home." She said it with a tone of slight wonder, like she was trying out the word and finding she liked it. The smile she gave me was super effective.

My assassin Mama can't be this cute?

"Would you like to eat now, or wait a bit?" Papa asked.

"I think I'll change clothes and wash, so perhaps, fifteen minutes?" she replied hesitantly.

Loid smiled and nodded. "I'll warm the bread. What would you like to drink?"

"Ah, water to start with, perhaps a glass of wine?"

He nodded, and she left to change.

I gave him a thumbs up behind her back when he glanced my way. This was happening. We were doing this.

Soon we were sitting down and eating.

The whole German thing of a heavy lunch and a light supper always struck me as a little weird, given the issues of having a lot of food during a working day on a lunchbreak. Easier to do on a weekend or holiday. But eintopf is much the same as any other crock pot stew, and for a moment homesickness or nostalgia or a mix of both was hitting me like a brick.

Loid lead Yor through a bit of gentle chitchat. How was work, was anything coming up, that kind of thing.

After supper, where they each drank one glass of wine, Loid poured them each a cup of coffee while talks turned to more pressing matters.

Not a full on study session like we tried before, but more a general planning session for my education.

"Music is a good idea. I don't know how to play anything, but Anya is very bright, so her everyday studies shouldn't take long," Yor offered.

Loid nodded seriously. "That's an angle I hadn't considered. Recitals and such could be good ways of attracting positive attention."

"I'm up for it," I agreed. "But I have no experience whatsoever, and I don't believe I'll be able to be a prodigy in music," I added in warning.

In my first life, I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. But I did like music, and young is the best age to learn.

"We can arrange for some lessons, and try to see if there's anything that suits you." Loid paused, then continued. "If you find it fun, anything is possible, but for the purposes of standing out, something suitable for solo or small group performances might be best. Violin, cello, piano, or such."

He had a good point. I'm not much for piano, but stringed instruments are nice. Brass, too, but the days of drum and bass, or alternative pop, or electronic music where a particularly funky solo with a French horn or something can stand out is too far in the future. No, we're in the environment of classical music. The Desmonds aren't going to ask for a private performance from a tiny strawberry blonde girl with a tuba.

"I wanna take fencing at some point!" I blurted.

Germany. Home of schlager fencing. Now, getting face scars as a girl would probably be a bad idea, but they probably had women's' fencing somewhere. I'd fenced in college in my first life, was decentish at it. Now that I was psychic, and in alt Germany, I wanted to get my sword on.

"Mama, you look really strong," I added. "Can you teach me to exercise like you?"

Yor smiled at me. "That's a great idea, Anya. I'd love to spend time with you. It's important for a young woman to be fit and agile. Instead of music, we might also look into ballet."

Loid nodded, his lips drawn down into an impressed expression. "Yes, that's a great idea. Do you know ballet, Dear?"

She blushed just a touch at his endearing nickname. "I haven't danced in years, but yes, I did ballet during my training. It's a wonderful way to learn balance, flexibility, and timing."

Training. Not 'schooling'. Ballet trained assassins.

Not going to lie, that sounded cool as hell. Anyone who thinks ballet is a thing for girly girls has never gotten a good look at a ballerina's legs.

Or their fucked up feet, with calluses like a back-swamp coonass who only wears shoes to church.

"That sounds fun, Mama!" I agreed enthusiastically. I mean, I wouldn't mind learning the violin. But I'd love to learn physical stuff from Yor.

I finally had a plan to bond with assassin-mom!

We wrapped things up fairly soon after that. There were still things to memorize, plans to show certain family traits and such, but the most important thing was internalizing it. Not just pretending to be a character, but internalizing it.

Living it.

And so far?

We were doing great!

Yor relaxed into the setting. Loid wasn't as tense. I wasn't stuck trying to mediate between them.

It genuinely felt nice. Almost like a real family. Being friendly acquaintances was the first step to real trust, and I was fucking STOKED at the idea of being psychic Penny Gadget to Loid's James Bond and Yor's Femme Nikita.

We tried watching some TV, but it was a mix of weird Ostanian propaganda-news, some sort of long running drama, a family comedy sitcom, a sort of action-thriller about spies, and a mix of things like business reports and documentary stuff.

None of it grabbed our attentions. Loid got his news elsewhere. Yor just didn't watch TV and seemed almost as perplexed by it as she did the opera. I was somewhat interested by the documentary stuff, but the one that was on at the time was about African lions, and you can only deal with a few years of Big Cat Week before you get pretty tired of lions, especially low tech, low detail stuff made for general audiences.

I was eyeing the bookshelf pretty hard, and I think Loid was, too, when Yor, the physical one of us, suggested we get some air and go to the park. It was still early evening, still plenty of light outside, so we agreed.

Yor took us a ways away via a cab ride, to a park she knew of outside the main city hub.

Surprisingly, it was more like New York City Central Park and less like some grey eastern Europe plot of scraggly trees, trash, and desperate proles sleeping in corners.

Actually, it was pretty nice. One of the things I still can't figure out about this place is how a country that reminds me so much of communist East Germany can be so full of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Like, from Loid's thoughts, and possibly something to do with Yor's secret profession, there's definitely a secret police, spying, surveillance, and quiet 'disappearances' of regular citizens in the background.

But it's almost like some sort of weird superhero thing, where there's villains and heroes and they fight, but other than major events, regular people aren't involved. I never overhear thoughts of like, 'Gotta look normal, or I'll end up in the gulag,' type stuff. I've never caught anyone thinking 'well if I turn in my neighbor for being a spy, the suspicion will be off me for at least a few months'.

On the other hand, I have overheard a fair amount of nationalistic thoughts, especially at that political rally that was so nasty. And Loid, an agent for the OTHER country, Westalis, wouldn't be here and busy as a one legged man in an ass kicking contest if there wasn't reason.

Also, Yor's thoughts about her assassin job implied she was called up two or three times a month.

So I really do not have a good understanding of what's going on around me.

But for the moment, we were in a nice cobblestone square on top of a hill, overlooking a sloped forest on one side and residential buildings on the other. Kids a bit older than me played soccer in the street. People went about their business, looking neither hurried nor afraid.

"I don't come here often, but when I'm particularly tired, and just feel down, I find myself here," Yor explained as we gathered at the railing keeping people from falling down the slope.

It was concrete, not something really expensive like wrought iron or stone, but it had actual aesthetic shape, and wasn't like brutalist slats or something.

"I had no idea this place existed," Loid admitted. "It's lovely."

"I like it," I agreed. "It has people, but it's not too crowded. And the air smells fresh." The streets and sidewalks had people walking or riding bicycles, and a few scooters and motorcycles in the distance, but there were nearly no cars. No car noise, no exhaust fumes.

If this was the goal, maybe people in the FuckCars movement had a point.

"When I remember that what I do is helping all these people, it gives me the energy to go back to work," Yor said quietly.

An idealistic assassin? Killer with a heart of gold?

I want to sneer, but then I really look at her, Loid doing the same behind me.

Yor Briar is a lovely woman. Not really 'young'. Even though she's just in her mid to late twenties, she mostly comes off as self-assured and driven, even when she's out of her element. I have no eye for fashion but she always dresses chic. Like you could photograph her at any point and put her in the pages of any women's magazine. Beautiful and attractive, but not in a way that begs for attention. Sexual without being sexy, just dressed for the weather and for the pleasure of looking good, without inviting comment or approach.

In my mind, she looked upper crust, but without throwing money around. She was so impressive I was a little intimidated. In another world, she'd have been way out of my league. In this one, she felt more like an impossible ideal to strive for. Seriously, virtually none of the 'Bond girls' in the films could stand beside her without looking like a cheap imitation.

Loid wasn't thinking aloud, but I got the feeling that he, too, was impressed.

She was an assassin, though. Objectively, that's a bad thing. How she manages to function without becoming sociopathic or jaded in sheer self-defense mystifies me. The only other mental state I'm aware of that allows people to kill often without turning into an emotionally deadened monster is to be a fanatic for some sort of cause.

Maybe? She believes she's doing it for the good of the regular people.

But hell, Loid is clearly killing people on occasion, too. And he genuinely believes he's doing it as an only choice to protect people at large. Sort of a 'greater good' philosophy.

Generally, I'm with the people who eye 'greater good' arguments with skepticism. It's fine to say 'greater good' until you're the one getting sacrificed. And also, the people inclined to 'greater good' type arguments never include themselves in the pool of potential sacrifices, because they're too 'necessary'. The whole thing is shaky, built on a house of cards rolling down a highway paved with good intentions. Scary shit, and absolutely the kind of thing I'm inclined to go against.

But… what if it's real this time?

That's a question I can't yet answer, and equally can't unthink.

I mean, look around me. Non-shithole East Germany? Happy, prosperous people?

What if their efforts really are what's enabling this?

Because… it kinda seems like it is? From my outsider perspective, this place is nice.

Then it becomes more of a 'Those who walk away from Omelas' situation.

Because as a US citizen, aware of the problems but still devoted to the freedoms… Murder ain't right. I have no idea what sort of person I'd be if I was actually a native to the situation, but with my current set of experiences and morals, I'd absolutely leave Omelas. No amount of happiness is worth the sacrifice of one innocent. No matter how many people rely on it, no matter how many would die, or be miserable, or how many evils would rise without it, nothing is worth one innocent life.

I could never get into Star Trek. Prime directive, greater good, none of that bullshit.

Fuck your happiness. I matter. My choice matters. And so does his, and hers, and everyone's.

But… what if you're sacrificing the people who want to sacrifice others? What if Omelas wasn't powered by the pain of an innocent child.

What if, instead, it merely required the lack of privacy of a larger group of people who are mostly thought to be varying degrees of evil? A few innocents get mixed in, but generally don't get anything worse than having their secrets gone through. And virtually no true innocents get caught up in the purges. The assassination targets are the most evil, problematic people they're able to target. Some real shitheads get missed, a few less guilty people inadvertently get murdered. But they're trying their best.

In a perfect world, no. My morals say that no amount of innocent blood is acceptable. But, better though this world is compared to my last, it's still clearly not a perfect Heaven.

'Better that ten guilty people escape than one innocent suffer.'

Blackstone's ratio.

This is a better world, so what would the ratio be here? One hundred to one? A thousand?

Even at a thousand to one, for every million violent crimes, you'd have a thousand innocents on the chopping block.

I have no idea what the Ostanian crime rate is like, but would the accidental murder of ten innocents a year be a rate the population at large would accept?

In my original world, I guarantee it. They accept a lot worse than that. Here, in a world with better overall karma?

I'm not even six years old. I can't make good judgements on this.

Loid is a good person. Yor is a good person.

I guess I just have to accept what I'm given, and do the best I can with it.

Shouting from below caught my attention.

"He took my purse!" an old lady screamed as a man sprinted away down the sidewalk.

"She should have been more careful," Loid noted callously, dismissing the crime as something he couldn't do anything about.

Huh, well, no place is every completely free of HOLY SHIT

Yor went over the railing and down the slope like a police malinois going after a protester of color. I mean holy shit that is batman comic fast. Not quite anime flash step but definitely faster than any parkour efforts I've ever seen. She didn't slide, she RAN down the grassy slopes, slowing herself down by landing hard on the switchbacks of level sidewalk and stairs that terraced the side of the hill away from the trees.

The soles of her trendy, fashionable leather short boots, with low heel I might add, made heavy THWOK sounds as she hit each section of sidewalk, braking to lower speeds before hurtling down the next slope, her war cry of "You'll pay for that, thief!' splitting the air.

"Ah. We'd better-" Loid began, picking me up.

"Yeah," I agreed, too surprised to really react as the spy began running with me in his arms.

We went down the slope at considerably lower speed, breaking off from Yor's path to hopefully cut the corner and catch up with her faster.

For their part, both the thief and Yor disappeared around a corner, their footfalls quickly fading out.

Yor came back briefly to check on the old woman, and Loid started to head back in her direction, but she took off again down an alley.

"We'll have to cut him off," I said excitedly.

Loid was getting into the chase, and he didn't disagree.

The next ten minutes or so were spent pounding down the street, taking a few back alleys here and there. Loid was in excellent shape, and not particularly hampered by my modest weight. We went down alleys and upstairs.

'He'll head for the crowd near the market. It's the best place to lose a trail,' Loid thought.

But when we got there, staring down at the crowd from a raised walkway, his shoulders slumped. The thief had clearly beaten us, if he was there, because we didn't see any runners dropping to a stroll.

And in the press of people going about their evening, it was impossible to pick out one man they hadn't even gotten a good look at.

'Ah. I think Yor will be disappointed we lost him,' Loid thought

Except that wasn't the case. There were dozens of people, yes, but they were calm people going about their business. Mentally quiet people, focused more on navigating the crowd and only occasionally thinking about their next stop.

The triumphant glee of a guy mentally counting bills, delighted in getting one over on a stupid old lady came through loud and clear.

"There he is," I said, pointing.

"Loid?" Yor asked, running upstairs to the walkway to join us.

'Aha, she's right,' Loid thought with fierce glee. 'He changed his coat and put on a hat, but he still moves the same!' Turning to his new wife, he barked a quick instruction. "Yor, watch Anya! I'm going to get the thief!"

And then I got to watch Loid, blond James Bond in the flesh, sprint down the raised walkway and leap off, falling fifteen feet or so onto the hapless thief like a hawk swooping on a mouse.

Death from above mother fucker!

We quickly joined him below as he explained to the startled crowd that the guy was a thief and purse snatcher.

Clearly a professional one, too, or at least habitual. He had other wallets on him, and had probably been stalking the streets all day.

Loid seemed a little embarrassed to be the center of attention as the guy was taken away and the purse, with money, was returned to the old lady.

Ultimately, Papa and Mama did the whole 'aw shucks' routine with the old lady and each other. Mutual admiration, Yor's sense of justice, Loid's successful take down, my quick spotting of the guy.

The old woman even said it, like a moral at the end of a thirty minute episode, or the blessing of God X the Director.

"What a wonderful family you are."

You know what? I was fucking stoked. Forget the existential implications. Forget the moral quandaries and philosophical conundrums.

Super spy Papa.

Assassin with a heart of gold Mama.

(False) genius psychic tot me.

"Hell yeah!" I whispered to myself.

"Anya!" Loid said, startled. "Who taught you to say that?"

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AN: More on my patreon.

After some teething problems getting the new family set up, things are finally starting to work out. Anya just has to quit poking at the man beind the curtain and get out there and BE.

 

[StrangerDanger51]

Lovely chapter, as always. Looking forward to the next one.

 

[Dakkan Sall]

"Hell yeah!" I whispered to myself.

"Anya!" Loid said, startled. "Who taught you to say that?"

Click to shrink...

Well, at least she has the ability to use "Somebody at the orphanage" as an excuse for that kind of thing. At least to tell Twilight. If it was Yor on the other hand, that might be a bit harder to find an explanation.

I mean, kids learning curse words will happen anyway, but at least having a handy excuse wouldn't be amiss.

 

[Another Guy]

You know, I give it 1-2 years top, before the transition from "This family is an arrengement of convenience" to "We are a family" cement itself really HARD (And probably a few more before Anya become a big sis), because even if this SI!Anya is not like the childish OG!Anya (acting like the glue for the relationship via stoking the flames of parental instinct and being a ball of perpetual sunshine) she is still, pretty much, drawing them together via normal bonding... and this is still just a precious. The academy is going to be fun!

 

[Snowandmax]

"Anya!" Loid said, startled. "Who taught you to say that?"

Click to shrink...

"You did."

"What when?"

"When you and momma where watching The TV together."

 

[XenonPrime]

I have enjoyed this story very much! There's a lovely sense of ongoing connection and emotional complexity along with a solid pacing and conclusion to the chapters.

Bravo!

 

[Blaflaix]

Telepathy is weird. Not at all what entertainment media had prepared me for.

Click to shrink...

I appreciate how much thought you put into the mind-reading.
Specifically I appreciate that you put any thought into the mind-reading, unlike most stories.

Most stories go entirely plot-driven.

Need to know something?
They can read memories in Swahili from when they were 2 years old.
Need them not to know something?
Basic arithmetic turns into an unbreakable wall in the mind.
Climactic battle?
Now they have Reality Warping!

I actually read a fanfic where the "genre-savvy" character told a mind-reader that they should be spending their time trying to warp reality.
Why did they suggest this person waste their life on a wild goose chase?
Because they saw it in anime "all the time" so obviously it's an incontrovertible law of reality.