Ice Pie [SpyxFamily][Si]

[Nugar]

Quick note at the beginning, Spy x Family is a fairly new manga by Tatsuya Endo. There are only 15.5 chapters out, it's not super serious, and there's minimal lore or world building. The only setting details we have is 'vaguely cold war era West vs East Germany'. So I'm making a lot of shit up of the top of my head. You don't need to have read it to read this fic. In fact, I'll be diverging fairly quickly, and given how much lore/plot I'll have to make up, this will get AU pretty quick. Also. I list this as SI, but it's more of a generic 'person from our world' than 'me' specifically. This is so I can make a lot of references to Youjo Senki/Tanya the evil, for reasons you'll see, but Spy X Family is not an isekai.

Enjoy. Hope you comment, I'm going to need help figuring out bizzaro!cold war stuff.

Ice Pie
​

This place wasn't so bad. I mean, it was a run down, brutalist building made of bricks and stone, but the rooms were dry and the widows were tight. Mister Erhard, the guy running the orphanage, was an alcoholic, but then again, in this bizzaro eastern europe I found myself in, I'd have been more surprised if he wasn't. He kept us fed, didn't skim much off the top for his booze, and had a fairly sweet relationship with some seamstress woman who lived elsewhere that kept us clothed.

And he wasn't a pedo. Can't understate how great that is.

Not that pedos have been a problem for me, since I was reborn in bizzaro world, but as a tiny little blonde girl, I am aware of the potential threat.

Erhard didn't like me much, though. He was a bit superstitious, and let's be honest here. I was a bit weird as an adult in my past life. With all my memories, in the body of a little girl? Oh yeah. I'm bizarre as fuck. Too mature. I don't cry. I don't need constant help. I don't like playing with the other children. I spend too much time by myself.

Now, you'd think a 'mature' child that can dress, bathe, and feed herself would be a selling point for adoption. You'd be partially right. Although most couples prefer to adopt babies, some couples prefer to risk the chance of getting an already fucked up kid if it means they don't have to lose sleep and change diapers for a year or so. I've been 'adopted' twice, both from previous orphanages.

First couple were child farmers. One of those couples that adopts a shitload of children to get their government dole, then skims off the top to pay their own bills. Now, that's not necessarily the worst thing in the world, no worse than a small, private orphanage, if they at least keep up their end of the bargain. Food, clothes, place to sleep, at least some care. Enough to turn out a survivor if not a socially well-adjusted child.

I took one look at those kids, heard the fear in their voices whenever 'Mama Birgit' turned her hawkish gaze, and was gone before nightfall.

Nope. Nope nope nope. Not my mama.

Had some hope for the second couple. Quite a bit more well to do, actually talked to me a bit before adoption. They didn't have previous kids, probably some sort of fertility problem I'm guessing, not that I got that in depth with my own questions. I was, after all, trying to at least be an acceptably weird little girl. Got taken home, did some settling in stuff. I was cautiously optimistic. Lived with them for a bit over a month. Found out both were cheating on each other. Him moreso than her. Apparently, their failure to have a child naturally caused some pretty intense stress and fights. She blamed him and his 'weak seed'. He blamed her for being a failure as a woman. They needed a child to qualify for some sort of inheritance from a grandfather.

Well, that's not ideal, but it wasn't until some inter family shenanigans I wasn't really privy to happened that I realized it wasn't going to work out. The gist I got was, they were angling for a percentage of the inheritance, not a premade slice. So the other potential heirs, with their 'natural children', managed to have me ruled invalid. Divorce isn't really a common 'thing' around here, but either way, the writing was on the wall as far as I was concerned. Neither had any more then perfunctory interest in me, even at the best of times. Left, lied a bit, ended up in a new orphanage, daunted but not defeated.

Still, while this is arguably the best orphanage I've lived at, I sure don't want to be here until I'm 'of age' and end up a whore somewhere. Did I mention this is bizzaro world eastern europe? And the year is 1984? Oh my god I don't want to be an eastern european whore.

So when Erhard comes in with this tall, lanky blond guy dressed in a dapper grey suit and an upper crust air about him, I paid attention. I mean, I don't actually have any idea how good his suit was, but given how good it looked and how shitty this place really was, the idle thought that 'the money he spent on that suit could buy this place' crossed my mind.

I picked my toy up where it sat beside me and went to watch the rich man follow Erhard in, seeming to be a bit shocked when the greasy, balding drunk told him to pick the one he wanted.

Really, Erhard? I'm nocking a point off my review for this place, though admittedly, deference to rich people is a thing here. I realize asking for due diligence is an unreasonable expectation in this unreasonable place, but… ahhh, fuck it.

'What a rough place,' the gentleman mused, looking around at the half dozen of us kids playing in the hallway and common room as he entered. 'But the shadier the facility, the higher the chance of these kids having a murky background. It's more convenient if we have less records to change.'

Motherfucker what? He wants untraceable records? That's a big red flag!

'The mission is to create a family. As long as I have a child, I can make it work,' he thought silently to himself, seeming to nod in satisfaction.

What what what? That doesn't sound like a pedo, that sounds like some sort of-

'I wish I could do this on my own,' he continued musing, giving each snot nosed little runt the gimlet eye. 'But not even Westalia's most renown spy can disguise himself as a child.'

Oh.

My.

God.

I didn't have a real good grasp on history, even my own personal history I admit, but I did know the names of the, to me, most important countries around, and kinda a gist on the rest of it. Bizzaro world, bizzaro names. The best example I can think of is Tanya in Youjo Senki, with me as Tanya, with the sole major difference being this is bizzaro 80s cold war instead of bizzaro WW1. Hell, at first I thought this was Youjo Senki, but with a lot of country name drift.

United Albion replaced the UK. Francia is bizzaro France. Westalis is the name of bizzaro West Germany.

We currently live in Ostania, bizzaro East Germany. Basically, after some unholy abomination of WW2, the country got split. They even built a wall between them. However, about ten years ago or so, they tore the wall down and signed a bunch of treaties or something and mostly made nice.

The big difference is that unlike home, West and East didn't unify. In fact, they're pretty prickly to each other.

And this blond James Bond looking motherfucker right here is an honest to god cold war spy.

And me? Continuing with the Tanya theme, besides being tiny and blonde, I also had special powers.

I could read minds.

I stared at the ACTUAL SPY kid shopping in front of me with eyes about as big around as saucers.

"Oh right, if possible, I'd prefer someone who can read and write," he admitted cheerfully.

Oh my god. Was this happening? This was perfect! This is bizzaro fucking Youjo Senki! But a cold war spy thing instead of WW1 quidditch murder! Thank you, Being X! Or God, or however you wish to be called. Tanya resented you, but you're A-Okay in my books!

"Yeah, I know just the one," Erhard agreed. "Anya!"

He almost had to call me twice, even though I was close by. I was actually trembling I was so excited.

"She's our smartest kid," Erhard explained. "Don't talk much, but… Eh, she's a good kid," he added, looking at me. 'A creepy little brat, really,' he added mentally. 'Hope this guy gets her outta my hair asap.'

'Fuck you, you bald fuck,' I thought right back at him. I can't actually send thoughts, though. Just hear. My regular efforts to train my power probably contributed to him thinking I'm creepy, now that I think about it.

"C'mon, aren't you gonna say hi?" he prompted.

I opened my mouth to say something, but the spy's thoughts interrupted me.

'Eden Academy starts at age six. She's too small, too young.' Out loud, he said, 'Um, excuse me, but-"

"Six!" I blurted, standing as tall as I could. "I'm six years old!"

I'm lying through my teeth. I don't know my own birthday, much less how old I am, but I might be brushing five. I mean, physically.

"I don't think," Erhard began, giving me a dubious look, but I overrode him.

"I'm definitely six!" Shut up old man!

I could tell the man wasn't buying it. "Test me!" I demanded. "I can read and write and do math and everything! I'm just short!"

Come on, man, I could be the tiny psychic spy to his James bond! It's a match made in heaven! Don't take this from me!

"We don't have many books here, but I assure you she's good at reading," Erhard added, helping me out.

You just got that extra star on my yelp review, dude!

"I do have a newspaper," he allowed, pulling it from an inner coat pocket and handing it to me.

"Thank you, Sir," I said politely as I took it from him. I quickly scanned it and found the start of some article about a scuffle between Westalian and Osternian female athletes.

"Westalian female athlete, Patrica Schulth, who brought shame on herself and her nation in the Athenian Games, to be expelled from the Westalian athenian team." I gave it some bombast, really trying to impress. "The Albionese born Westalian runner was the cause of a disastrous accident in the 1984 games, tripping up heroic Ostanian athlete Katja Amsel in the 3000m race."

I think my complete ignorance of german actually helped me learn bizzaro german, since I went in with minimal preconceptions. My knowledge of english works to understand Albionese, but there's some words in there that weren't in my lexicon. To go back to the old analogy of english being three midgets in a trenchcoat, pretending to be one language, well, the midgets are the same, but they're wearing different clothes under there, and the trenchcoat has more pockets.

Mister Spy wasn't dismissing me out of hand, but I don't think I had sold him yet.

Hmm. I bet there's a crossword puzzle in here. I flipped through the paper, then asked for a pencil.

I ended up seated in Erhard's own chair, the paper on his desk, with the still unnamed spy leaning over my shoulder as I scanned the clues.

Hmm. One across, eleven letters, the tendency toward a stable equilibrium. Homeostasis. Four down, eleven letters again, 'to turn into vapor.' Evaporation, easy. No wait, that doesn't line up with that. What's this other clue that intersects, uh… ah, disconsolate. That means four is sublimation. Gotcha.

It started great. But this was like, Mensa's fucking crossword puzzle, and I started taking longer.

'Good start, but I guess even a smart child can't be asked to know 'causal closure'. And if that's a C in that space, that makes 32 across 'symplectomorphic map'.

What. Still, if he's going to unwittingly feed me the answers, I'm gonna take advantage.

Also, damn this guy was smart. I bet his education was both tasteful and expensive.

After about fifteen minutes, I had the crossword completed and handed it to him happily.

He was kind of staring at me. 'She actually got it! Where did she learn this stuff?!' He took the newspaper from my slightly shaking hand and marveled at it. 'What terrifying genius! With her, passing the entrance exam should be child's play!'

Abruptly, his head snapped to the side, focusing on Erhard.

"I'll take her!"

Aww yiss…

Again, though, when Erhard actually waved off the idea of paperwork and told him to just take me, he lost that goddamn star in his review. If I end up in a shallow grave somewhere, I'm going to haunt your greasy ass, Erhard.

Before we left, the man introduced himself as Lloyd Forger. Later, I was to discover it was actually spelled Loid, which is weird, but okay. He got my name, Anya, (it's like Tanya, but I don't like heights so fuck being an aerial mage!) and asked me if I had any belongings I needed to get.

The only thing I had, I kept with me always. My toy stuffed animal, Chimera. It was given to me by maybe!Mom, and is the only thing I've managed to keep throughout my adventures in surviving eastern europe's child welfare attempts.

It's pretty clearly a chimera. It has a lion head and body with a snake tail (with the snake head at the end of it so you know it's a snake). That's pure chimera. But instead of the goat head, it's got bat wings, so the overall effect is more like that of a manticore. But I was told it was a chimera, and you don't have to be a genius to see the narrative clue here.

My powers aren't the result of natural mutation.

I was made somewhere.

And if I get involved in spy stuff, I bet I get to eventually figure out who made me.



AN: Like I said, Spy X Family is not an isekai. Anya is a 'normal' psychic little girl. But add an insert and bam! Cold war spy Youjo Senki. High five, Being X!

 

[Liam-don]

Pa's a liar.
Ma's a baka.
Anya's a Tanya?

Spoiler

 

[Nugar]

Pa's a liar.
Ma's a baka.
Anya's a Tanya?

Spoiler

Click to shrink...

I think I'm going to set that as my profile picture for this.

 

[Nugar]

I ignored the waving of the children as we left together. I wasn't friends with any of them, and if I had to run away from my new daddy, I'd be looking for an entirely different orphanage again. I kept silent, and obediently followed the gentleman as we left.

"Listen up, little lady," he began.

"Anya has been my name until now," I interjected. "No last name. But I can get used to a new name if I must." I kinda liked Anya, since it was close to Tanya.

"Anya will be fine," he agreed. "And your new last name will be Forger."

I nodded, then put on my brightest, most outgoing child expression. "Hello, Mister! I'm Anya Forger! Are you my new Daddy?"

He smiled at me. "Yes, though I would prefer to be called 'Father.'" 'That seems fairly upper crust,' he thought.

I gave him a crude curtsy, dipping a little, and said, "Of course, Father. It wouldn't do for a family as dignified as ours to be seen as crude and plebian." I suddenly brightened and bounced a little on my feet. "Unless we're pretending to be lower class, right Papa? Huh? Right?"

He paused and gave me a considering look. 'She understands more than she should, but that could be a very good thing.' He nodded. "Yes, daughter. And don't forget, I have always been your father."

I nodded back. "What is father's name?" I deliberately did not say 'your name'.

"I am Loid Forger. I am a psychiatrist."

I nodded. "Daddy is a mind doctor! He helps people who feel bad!" I went back to my serious tones. "What specialty? Neurophysiology? Forensic? No offense, you don't seem to be comfortable enough with children to be a child psychiatrist."

His lip twitched a little, and I could sense the amusement in him. "I am a clinical psychologist, at the Vivante Klinik Berldam."

I nodded, committing the information to memory, then moved on. "It's been kind of sad since Mother left us." I paused. "Died? Abandoned us?"

"Died will be easiest to fake," he agreed, and we resumed walking. "Although I should be finding a mother for you soon."

I nodded. "I know how to stick to a story, Father." I walked in silence for a bit, then added quietly, "But we need to have a conversation in private. I need to know what you want. And you need to know what I want."

"What I want?" he asked. "I can't just want a family?"

I couldn't help myself, and snorted. "Father, I probably know more about how the adoption process goes than you do. You need me for a purpose, and to pretend otherwise insults both of our intelligence."

'Ah. I had not considered the challenges an intelligent child would provide. This may prove trickier than I thought.' He nodded slightly.

We traveled in silence after that, making our way through the streets of Berldam, the capital of Ostania, by foot and by taxi.

I spent the time listening to his thoughts.

Telepathy is weird. Not at all what entertainment media had prepared me for. For one thing, although I slip up and refer to it as such sometimes, it's not at all like 'reading'. Instead, it's more like, an extra set of ears, that are also antenna. It feels more like I'm hearing broadcasts from other people's minds. Really short ranged broadcasts, too. I might have a total range of a hundred meters or so, and that's stretching it. My actual, function range is more like about a third of that, and can be cut even further if there's too many people nearby, or the person is a static brain.

The clearest and easiest thing for me to pick up on is internal vocal thoughts, like I'm best tuned into the language centers in people's brains. When Loid looked at me and thought, 'This girl will be perfect for my mission,' he was essentially speaking to himself, in his brain. Verbal thoughts like that come in loud and clear, are easy to distinguish, and have the most range. I even get the tone the thought is in, making the emotions fairly clear.

However, purely visual thoughts are harder to distinguish. Action planning thoughts, like someone visualizing slapping me in the face, still come through, but are… fuzzier, for a lack of a better word. Like, my face in that image would be like an unfinished greyscale drawing, and there would be no background. Or if someone was memorizing the details of a painting, I'd get all the bits they focused on, but the surrounding bits quickly fade into bland obscurity. It's still useful information, but it's not like seeing through their eyes. I think the bits that broadcast the best are the details the brain is actually getting, not the impressionistic 'it's there but I'm not really looking at it, so my brain just glosses over it,' sort of thing where the brain just kinda guesses.

Like how we don't actually see during saccades, but our brain fills in the gap with extrapolation. The extrapolation does get broadcast, but it's noticeably fuzzy, and, like, shorter ranged than the actual visual data. It makes getting an accurate impression of another person's visuals almost impossible outside of about fifteen or twenty feet. I have a few theories about why this is, but no proof and nowhere to really start getting proof.

Also, reading memories? Forget it. Unless the person is actually thinking about the memory, going over it in their mind, I can't see it. All I get is surface thoughts. Pure emotions likewise come through badly, or not at all. Maybe because emotions are more of a neurochemical thing, not a neuroimpulse thing?

For that matter, I think I pick up on touch, as well, but only in really really close ranges. Inches at most. Little phantom pinpricks of sensation that mostly don't mean anything, but can transfer sensations. Like, if a kid sprained his finger, and I hold that hand, I get a phantom impression of that pain. As I start pulling my hand away, the sensation gets fainter and fuzzier, down to nothing at all. And if I hold his other hand, I'm too far from the hand generating the pain symptoms, and I get nothing.

Also, I can't seem to influence thoughts or talk directly to another person's mind… maybe. I've spent a lot of time trying to send thoughts and orders to other people, and even animals. Once, for about fifteen minutes before it flew off, a raven I was watching in a tree seemed to be doing what I thought at it to do.

But that only happened once, and it might be that the raven and I had similar ideas on what a raven in a tree should be doing.

Any discussion of telepathy would be incomplete without the drawbacks. Well, the media seems to have gotten that bit mostly right. That telepath from Code Geass, the one obsessed with CC. Forget his name. He's just about spot on as far as the drawbacks. You can't turn it off, and you can't unhear it. When I'm around a lot of people, it's like being in a noisy crowd, except you can't plug your ears. It gives me headaches, and it's very, very, VERY difficult to focus on a single mental voice in that crowd. I've always hated being around too many people, even in my first life. Here, it's just about full blown fear of crowds.

I don't like it.

At all.

There seems to be this… static that comes from other people. Like turning on an old analogue radio, and hearing the crackle of random noise coming through the speakers. It's really bad, and fuzzes out anything I might otherwise get, if the person is too far away. So the way I see it, each person more or less seems to have their own wavelength, or actually, a whole cluster of wavelengths for various mental senses, but they're really close together. Like listening to FM radio, and one person is everything from 99.5 to 100.7. The problem is, another person near them might be 98.9 to 100.1, with overlap. And the closer they are, the stronger the signal, but also with the problem that each sub frequency has its own strength. One person at fifty feet away with a mental voice on 101.3 will drown out another person's visual sense at 30 feet, but if the visual person gets closer, down to like, twenty feet, then the signals jumble into indistinguishable noise, at least until one gets closer.

Lastly, some people are just unclear in general. I call them static brains. People who don't seem to think a lot, and exist in more of an act-react sort of mindset. Children, especially, are static brains. Not a lot of coherent thought in most children.

My theory is that I'm literally picking up on electrical signals from nerves, which is why my telepathy seems to be more of a passive reception with limited range and static, and doesn't pick up on things like chemical emotions. I have no proof, but it's a working theory for now. Also, I think a lot of the static is from thoughts my brain can't translate. Like, I get mostly static from someone thinking in french, because I only understand a smattering of french and can't really think in it. And maybe people with bad eyesight produce more staticky visual thoughts.

Loid had a wonderfully clear mental voice. It was really nice to listen to, much more pleasant than anyone in recent memory. The benefits of a logical, organized mind, I suppose.

He didn't think much about the overall mission as we travelled, and instead seemed to be mentally shopping for food and supplies. It was like being near someone constantly talking quietly to themselves.

We got out in front of a rather nice building in a good neighborhood, the kind the upper middle class, or perhaps lower upper class, might live in. Though the building itself was probably older than the blocky, brutal architecture of the orphanage, it had more ornamentation to make it look nicer. I don't know the architectural style, but it seemed like a pretty good place to live, if you liked cities.

I didn't like cities, but they had their uses.

As soon as we entered the building, an old woman greeted us, and they exchanged names.

"Hello, we're the Forgers," Loid said, introducing both of us.

"Oh my, your daughter is adorable," she exclaimed, doing that exaggerated old lady gasp thing.

"Pleased to meet you, Ma'am," I replied, giving another curtsey.

"And so polite, too!"

Loid smiled, pleased with my performance. We continued to the apartment and he let us in.

For a place in the city, the three bedroom one bath apartment was actually really nice. The rooms were large and well appointed, with tasteful furniture in excellent condition. Some of it looks brand new and recently purchased, some of it, like the couch, had some signs of light wear, like it had come from an older place, implying continuity of life.

Nice.

He even had a TV, a positively huge one for the mid-80s. It had to be nearly 30 inches diagonal. More importantly, the apartment had a number of bookcases, already filled with books. I browsed through them briefly as Loid sat down in a chair and loosened his tie.

Sadly, all of the books were reference books and journals. Medicine, law, philosophy, just the sorts of things a well to do doctor would have. To my eye, though, most of them looked too new, with no signs of even the most minor crease in their spine. I'd need to put some wear and tear in them when I got the chance.

And make sure Loid saw me doing it, so I could continue my theme of being a reliable co-conspirator.

But that was for later. It's best not to hit someone with too much stuff all at once.

After I'd familiarized myself with the apartment and left Chimera on my new bed, I laboriously climbed up into a chair opposite Loid. It ain't easy being tiny.

Loid watched me with mild wariness, wondering if this is when the other shoe was going to drop and I was going to turn out too weird to be acceptable.

Apparently, things had been going too well, and he was getting paranoid.

"Okay," I began. "I don't believe either of us are willing to show all of our cards at the moment, but in the interests of cooperation with each other, here's some information about me."

Loid nodded cautiously.

"I am unusual," I admitted honestly. "I'm too smart for my age. I don't think like a normal child. I've been in three different orphanages and I only barely remember the woman that dropped me off in the first one. I remember her being scared, and telling me she loved me. Since then, I've had to learn how to survive. Have you ever been in an orphanage, Father?"

He nodded, his face softening a little, but his thoughts had a melancholy tone. "I was an orphan as well."

That made sense. I could see his handlers preferring a spy with no attachments.

"Then you know it's not easy. Bigger, meaner kids will take your food and belongings. The caretakers rarely care. It's cold in the winter and hot in the summer. You get sick a lot. People treat you badly."

He was nodding, remembering his own experiences.

"I've been adopted twice," I continued. "The first family was just in it for the money they got for taking care of children. They spent the money on themselves and us kids were left to fend for ourselves. If we acted up, we got beaten. I ran away, and found a different orphanage."

He was a little impressed, and also slightly angered.

"The second family acted like they wanted a daughter to love, but really it was just about some money they wanted from a grandfather, and when it fell apart, I had to run away again. I ended up at the orphanage where you found me."

"I see."

"So what I'm trying to explain here is, I know you want something from me. Everyone wants something, right? I don't have a problem with that. If you want a trained pet, able to repeat lines on command, I can do that. If you want a partner who can act a role? I can do that, too. Honestly, especially given you didn't pay anything for me, you got a really good deal."

Here's where I stood up in my chair and leaned forward, my hands on top of the table.

"Here's the deal. I have things I want, as well." I gave him a challenging stare.

Loid stared back at me, his thoughts running too fast for me to really understand them. Finally, he said, "I'm listening."

I nodded. "Good. I want consideration. Everything has risks, but I want you to at least put forth an effort to keep me safe. I doubt you will tell me anything, but I promise to keep your secrets. Just make sure you tell me everything I need to know to do my part. Most importantly, when you've gotten what you want from me, I don't want to be thrown away."

He straightened a little, and I might have detected a note of approval in his mental 'hmm.'

"If you can't keep me, I'll understand. However, I do not want to go back to an orphanage. I want good caretakers. It doesn't have to be a real family, but I'd prefer someone who can at least keep me fed, housed, and arrange for a good education. A little money here and there, nothing unreasonable. I may be a genius compared to most of the people around me, but I'm still a child, and as hard as I've tried, I cannot make it in the world on my own. Not until I'm older." I gave him a quirk of my lips.

"You want reassurances. That's understandable, and very forward thinking of you," he admitted.

"I realize I have no way of enforcing my demands," I admitted. "Not without compromising secrecy, which would violate my own promise. I'll keep your secrets no matter what." I wanted to be real clear on that part, and hopefully head off any shallow grave bad ends. "But if there's an honorable bone in you, that's my price. I will do what you ask to the best of my abilities, which should be far better than most other children. And in return, you ensure I have a future. Okay?"

Loid smiled at me. 'I hadn't even considered what I would do with her after the mission. Damn headquarters, they didn't give me enough time to plan this out like I want. But her demands are reasonable. If she's as smart and easy to deal with during the entire operation as she is right now, I should be able to find a good home for her myself, even if central doesn't want to foot the bill.'

"We have a deal then, Anya Forger," he said, holding his hand out for a shake in a way that was mostly honest and only minimally condescending.

"We have a deal, Father," I agreed, shaking his hand.

'If nothing else, she'd actually be an incredible early recruit for the spy program," he thought. 'Yes, Anya, that's why I do this. So you, and all the other children, have a future.'


AN: Continuing on. As always, comments appreciated, I'm happy to discuss mechanics, and I use all spelling and grammar corrections people give me.

 

[Akuma-Heika]

The simultaneous first person view is a little disorienting. Biggest criticism I have. Not sure how to improve it though, considering it is done via telepathy.

Other than that, I enjoyed it!

You are also missing a threadmark for ch1.

 

[Nugar]

"Pass the entrance exam to Eden Academy and make friends with certain children, particularly Damien Desmond. Work to become a member of the elite Imperial Scholars group, which requires me to be awarded eight 'stellas' or stars. My primary goal is to be on such good terms with the families, again, particularly the Desmond family, that we are invited to their estates for social events."

"That is correct," he agreed. "These families are the most elite, most powerful, and most reclusive in Ostania. The only way to arrange meetings with them is to become part of their social group, and the most practical way of doing that is to have a child become part of the same school group as their children."

"I understand, Father," I said solemnly. "I will become one of the top students at Eden Academy."

"To accomplish this, our first goal is for you to pass the entrance exam. I have some materials coming that will assist us in this goal."

"Materials?" I asked.

"Study guides, textbooks…"

I smiled in anticipation.

"…and a copy of the exam and the answers to the questions." 'Will she be concerned about cheating?'

"Wonderful, Father. Any methods may be used to complete our goal, yes?"

He nodded again in approval.

I gave him a grin. "And as the old saying goes, 'If you're not cheating, you're not trying.'" I grew serious again. "Although I'm confident in my ability to pass most tests, especially any for a normal girl my age, I do have a few weak areas in my knowledge. None of the orphanages I stayed at had any history books, and I only read a few while staying with families. Also, while I can fake it a little, my manners are not those of the upper crust. I will require training in how to act properly. I may also require help with proper pronunciation if I am to fit in."

"Those are all very good points, Anya. I'll see about getting appropriate study material." He made a hmm sound. "I will be able to teach you most of it, but I might have to bring in some experts."

"I can speak, understand, read, and write in albionese about as well as I speak germanian. However, I only know a few words in russcovia and francian. My accent is also terrible." I paused as another thought hit me. "Oh, and my handwriting is bad. I haven't had much time to practice."

Loid smiled happily. "All of those are valid concerns, but you won't be expected to be perfect at the beginning. So long as you pass the exam, we should have time to bring you up to acceptable levels of proficiency. And with a child as intelligent and composed as you are, I shouldn't have many worries."

"Just remember. You don't throw me away at the end of this, and I'll do whatever you need," I reminded.

We shook on it once more.

After that, we went shopping. At first, he didn't want to take me, which is understandable. From personal experience I can tell you that shopping with children is worse than going clothes shopping with a girlfriend. But I pointed out that there were things I needed he probably wouldn't guess, and most of all, I needed some books.

As a bit of a bibliophile, not having ready access to reading material in this life had suuuuucked. I read once in a Heinlein book that reading withdrawal was as bad as coming off cocaine, though not as bad as heroin.

Shopping went pretty smooth, though. Got some soap and shampoo suitable for a girl. Some new underwear, a couple of simple dresses, some food, toiletries, and some writing and art supplies. Tablets, pencils, pens and such. Books were fast and easy to get. Went to a book store, asked the clerk what books were considered essential in various genres, and ended up with a starter stack of six children's literature books. The only really extra things I got were fruits and some albionish breakfast teas. Rather than cooking that night, we got some food to go. The Turkish worker invasion of the germanys had been a thing here as well, so we had what was basically doner kebabs.

Once we got back, Father said he needed to go take care of some business. He didn't think it directly, but I'm pretty sure he was reporting success to his handler, and maybe handling paperwork stuff. As much as I'd like to pick his handler's brain, I didn't argue. We had already made a short list of important events. My 'birthday', which we were putting as July 12, 1978, to make me just turned six. Grandparents dead, former home was in Rostoak, no aunts or uncles.

With him gone, and honestly since I we feeling pretty tired, I got a bath and went to bed. The bath was lovely. You never really get to be clean and scent free in a run-down orphanage full of snot nosed little brats.

For the first time in a long time, I fell asleep in a clean bed feeling comfortable and safe. For that alone, I'd do my best for the spy who adopted me.

The next day, I got woken up for breakfast.

"You're a good cook, Papa," I informed him, tucking in to freshly warmed bread with honey and jam, and sausage with boiled eggs. "Sorry I don't like the yolk, but I do like the white part of the eggs," I added.

"Is there anything you would prefer?" He asked, mentally glad he had gone to the nearby bakery first thing.

"I like eggs scrambled and over easy, too," I replied. "And muesli with fruit, or sometimes pastries… I'm not very picky, I think." I paused. "Except for solid egg yolk. I don't like it fried or boiled. It's good when its warm and runny in over easy eggs, though."

He nodded, eating his own meal and occasionally glancing at a newspaper. 'I guess any child can be a little picky,' he mused.

"I can eat it, if I have to, though," I added, a little irked at being thought as picky. It was just one thing I didn't like, come on. "I can eat anything and pretend to like it. But if I don't have to, I'd rather not."

He paid my mild protests no mind.

After breakfast, he had an announcement. "Originally, I was going to go meet him myself, but I suppose there's no harm in having him come here. A friend of mine is coming here with those supplies I asked for. While we're waiting, let's get started on test preparation."

"Reporting for duty, Sir!" I snapped, standing at attention.

First thing we did was some writing practice. My own script style was a horrifying amalgamation of loopy french ronde style and plain print. Ostanian normalschrift has some pretty noticeable differences. Also, my spelling wasn't great. I didn't have a lifetime of germanic spelling embedded in my head, just a couple years of semifrequent reading.

Hilariously, in complete counterpoint to how learning usually goes, my fundamentals were lacking, but I was great at the advanced stuff. Except history, again.

I was going to have to do a lot of writing drills. It was going to suck.

Ah, well. At least I wasn't going to be stuck trying to do everything in blackletter. Thank Being X for small mercies.

Father's friend, Frankie, showed up mid-morning with a sack full of books, the application for Eden Academy, and a copy of the test and answers.

Frankie was a kind of nerdy looking guy with bushy black hair and thick black glasses. He had kind of a squareish sort of face and jaw that, on a handsomer man would look manly, but really just made him look lumpy and unfinished. I think he was a bit shorter than Loid but the almost afro hair he had going on made him just a bit taller.

"Hi uncle Frankie! Haven't seen you since before we moved to Berlingto!" I said brightly, giving him the hug of an old friend. "Papa said you were going to help me study for the test."

"Uncle Frankie?" he murmured, giving me a strange look. "We've never met before."

Really?

"Really?" I asked, turning to give Loid a look that wordlessly asked, 'this guy can't even play along?'

"Of course, Frankie. You're an old friend of the family, right?" Loid prompted with a tiny smile.

"Silly Uncle Frankie. Of course we've met before. And we'll meet more often now we're living in Berlingto, right?" I prompted as well.

He coughed, catching on. "Oh! Oh, yes. Right. Yes, Uncle Frankie is here to help you study." He awkwardly patted me on the head.

I rolled my eyes a little and moved to escape the touch. Headpat privileges are for people who can improvise.

"Like I said, Anya has the potential to be a little professional," Loid explained. "The mission will be considerably easier to accomplish with her active assistance."

"Does she-" Frankie cut himself off, then gave a silent plea with his eyes at Father. 'Does she know you're really a spy?'

"I know what I need to know. I don't ask questions that don't directly involve the mission," I answered for him. "What I don't know, I can't give away."

Frankie looked genuinely astonished. 'Loid wasn't kidding! This child is unreal!'

"I said she was intelligent," Loid added. "And surprisingly discrete. Let's set her up here at the table. We can talk in another room."

"I want to try taking the test without any cheats, first. I'm sure I can pass it, but I know I don't know everything."

It's important to know what you don't know.

At my request, I was allowed to do a practice run on the test, but without any refresher or peeking at the answers. Papa and Uncle Frankie went to Papa's bedroom to talk without being overheard. I very deliberately stayed at the dining table and worked on the test.

It's easy to pretend to respect other people's privacy when you hear everything they think. Oh, and speaking out loud? Uses the same language centers that speaking mentally does. I can hear everything they say.

Which is mostly boring. Some cheerful words of hope about this mission being practically in the bag, some estimates of time frames for the mission, and the things they could do to keep me on top of the academic standings.

Frankie was a spy as well, of course, but he was more sigint, signal intelligence, than Loid's humanint, social sort of spying. This was the mid-80s so computers were rare and expensive, and analog radio and telephone were very much the kings of transmission. Fortunately for us, Eden Academy was both stupendously well-funded and on the cutting edge. They had a mainframe and terminal system set up, and while it had required physical access to the hardware on site, he'd managed to get the information.

Apparently, however, the test itself was available in various social circles. The rich and powerful, whose children were obviously going to be accepted, received the test well in advance and had plenty of time to prepare their children to pass. The truly slow or stupid could and would be failed out, but even an unexceptional child could be coached to pass given enough time.

I also gleaned a few details about Father's spy moniker 'Twilight'. Frankie was proud of it, and really considered it to apply to the both of them, as they were partners, though he deferred to Father in terms of leadership and ability. Father didn't think much about the title, other than the useful fact that rumors of 'Twilight' activity in a place usually sent the local authorities into a frenzy.

I couldn't afford to just listen to them all day, though, so I tuned them out and focused on the test.

Whew, man, let me tell you. They're not fucking around with this entrance exam. If you weren't one of the elite, carefully coached to pass, you'd have to be the kind of young genius the powerful like to groom into useful servants. This was a test for six year olds. First graders, in american terms. It presumed functional literacy and mathematics, and went right past 'See Spot run. Spot is the name of the ____?' and straight to 'The superlative form of the word 'bad' is _____."

Damn, son. I mean, obviously I know the answer, it's not hard. But I'm an adult. I should be expected to know the answer. And if this is just the entrance exam stuff, how god damned hard is this stuff going to be? I'm smart, and I have a great memory. I am not, however, actually a genius with a photographic memory. I'm just cheating my ass off with decades of extra experience.

Six year olds? More like sixth graders. This was going to be a lot more work than I thought.

I had a headache by the time I was through with the test and handed it over to the adults. Father got Frankie to grade it, using the answer sheet he'd stolen.

While he did that, I got tea and some fruit from Father and collapsed on the couch. My butt was a little sore, too. Working at the dining room table had involved a stack of books and a cushion to elevate my tiny loli ass high enough to reach the top. Being small sucked.

"I'm going to need my own desk and chair for studying," I pointed out. "We probably should personalize the house a bit more, too. Some pictures on the walls, some posters or something."

Father agreed.

Waiting for the test to be graded, I also had cause to wonder how my memory worked. I had the brain of a six year old, right? Well, actually, probably more like a four or five year old, and I was psychic, but still. How did my past life memories, possibly written in my soul, get accessed by my physical thinkmeats? I don't even have a hypothesis.

In the end, Frankie deemed that I had passed with a correct percentage of 92%, which I was a bit offended by. I mean, yes, the test was hard for a six year old, but I am an adult. Even allowing for several history questions I knew I had guessed at, it should have been better than a 92.

I felt stupid after I reviewed the ones I missed with the correct answers, though. Little details half remembered tripped me up. Also, my spelling tended to be interpretive rather than correct.

Ah, well. Can't remember everything. Both Frankie and Father were convinced that I'd have no trouble getting into the academy with a 92. And after some review and practice over the next few days? I'd ace that test.

Of course, when, days later, I found myself in a large auditorium full of fidgeting, complaining, mentally screaming children, it was a bit of a different story. It's hard to concentrate in that kind of noise, even if it was just brain noise for the most part. Headache central. Like, migraine. Terrible.

I passed, of course.

With a 99%. I was not happy. All that and I still missed one?

Talk about a blow to the old adult ego.

Neither Father nor Frankie were upset, though. 99% on a test as exacting as the Eden Academy entrance exam was pretty much a guarantee for acceptance. I was rewarded with a bit of a shopping spree to fill out my room.

Things were looking great. I was feeling healthier and more energetic with good nutrition, I had new, clean clothes, I got a haircut, I had books to read, snacks, everything I'd missed except for the collective entertainment resource of several decade old internet.

Then the letter came from Eden Academy, inviting us to the secondary exam.

A three person interview.

No exceptions would be made, not even for death or illness. Only children from proper families were allowed to attend Eden Academy, no matter what they scored.

We had a child.

We had a Pa.

There is no Ma.

 

[TopHatWearer]

That's going to be a problem. Time for Anya to get a Mommy then!

 

[Luker number 5]

Would bringing a small urn of ashes count?

 

[Hypervane]

Would bringing a small urn of ashes count?

Click to shrink...

No exceptions would be made, not even for death

Click to shrink...

I mean, as long as they don't expect lively conversation, I don't see the problem.

Really enjoying this so far Nugar! I haven't seen any SpyXFamily fanfiction yet but this is definitely a great start! Love the sassy attitude of SInya. To be honest, I don't remember what superlative even means, so I'd probably fail that test (or get the same grade Anya did).

Can't wait for an Interlude after the strangeness of SInya finally reaches too high!

 

[Nugar]

Several days passed. The first, and most obvious thing for my father, the secret Westalian agent 'Twilight' to do, was to simply contact his handler and request the addition of a female spy to the team.

A fellow spy could be read into the mission, would be practiced in deception, and could easily be ordered into the role.

Perhaps that's why we couldn't get one. It would be too easy.

Does this world run on narrative structures? I mean, I'm already pretty convinced that there is literally a higher power arranging things. I don't have any proof, I mean, I suppose it's statistically possible that somewhere in the infinite infinities of the omniverse I, an otherwise fairly ordinary person, could be reborn as a loli telepath and adopted by a cold war spy. Infinity means infinite possibilities, after all.

But as much as I try to be a logical being, I am only human, and I can't help but anthropomorphize. This is just so similar to stories I've read and dreamed up that calling the mysterious forces that put me in this situation 'Being X' is compulsive.

I'm not even mad, like Tanya. I genuinely appreciate this second chance. This place is pretty neat. I like living again. There's a world of possibilities here, I mean, it's similar to my original world, and I'm far enough back in time that with some hard work, I could be the next Steve Jobs, Jeff Bezos, Elon Musk, Larry Page, Sergey Brin, Pierre Omidyar, all rolled into one.

I could fucking RULE this place.

AND I have psychic powers?!?

If Being X wants me to, I'll build a billion dollar cathedral and found a brand new church dedicated to whatever it wants.

I mean, yes. As an intelligent, logical person, I see the inequalities of this stupidly elite school for the children of the rich and powerful. It may educate, but it's primary mission is to keep the power in the hands of the powerful and out of the hands of the plebeians. Wealth disparity and the problems of late stage capitalism are known to me.

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.

All that sucks. It's unfair. Okay, I valued free will enough that I wouldn't blame God for the evils perpetuated by man. The freedom to be awesome is valuable enough to be worth putting up with the shitheads being free to suck, but still, I had a hard time giving the Abrahamic God any real credit. God, to me, if it existed, was probably more of a 'wind up the universe and let it go to see what happens' sort of deity than one that would actually poke around with miracles and want worship.

A God that would poke around with miracles, but still leaves the vast majority of the world in such a state? That wasn't the kind of God I would worship. I had Opinions.

So then, why would I enthusiastically worship this 'Being X' god or God if it desired?

Because everyone has a price, and a new, much more interesting and pleasant life was more than enough to pay for me. The potential of this world was far above and beyond my dreams, you just don't know. Even if I failed, and died penniless and obscure and in pain in some sort of eastern european shithole whorehouse, I would have no beef with this God.

Because if that happened, I could see it as my own failure. Maybe, if Loid hadn't shown up and adopted me, I might have been a little more bitter. Starting off as an orphan in fucking bizzaro East Germany is hard mode, after all. But I've got advantages now. I've got all the potential in the world, and some actual help from some people I could respect.

If I fuck up and squander this the way I did my last life, well.

That's on me.

But as determined as I am, I'm also nervous. This is SUPER IMPORTANT and I DO NOT want to FUCK this up.

So when father came home with bad news, telling me, both through inadvertent mental comments and actual words, that the recent past had seen too many Westalian female operatives killed or exposed, and there were none that fit the requirements for our mission available, I got a little upset.

Not screaming or crying or anything, but after a little bit of sitting around, both of us wondering what we were going to do next, I did have some stomach upset and had to go to the bathroom.

I had to calm myself down. I could not afford to freak out every time some little problem cropped up. Was I not secretly an adult? Was I not capable of mastering my emotions, buckling down, and overcoming obstacles? I had a goddamn job to do! Straighten up and don't be a pussy, me!

"Why are your cheeks so red?" Father asked me when I returned to the living room.

'Because I was slapping sense into someone,' I didn't say. Instead, I ignored the question.

"So what's our next step?" I asked.

"I put in a request for outside assistance. It may not be granted, so we keep looking. I'm actually thinking I will see if Frankie can fill the role."

I gave him a dubious look. "Uncle Frankie? Uncle 'I've never seen this child before in my life,' Frankie? Big square head, built like a fireplug?"

Loid winced a little. "While it's true he has no talent for people, he can act if he's properly prepared. And true love transcends shallow appearances?"

A day, and a lot of latex mask and makeup work later, we stared from our positions on the couch as Frankie did the catwalk pose in front of us.

Okay. In fairness, you shouldn't judge people based on their appearance. Frankie did look like a woman. Better, even, than many drag queens or trans women I've seen. Father was truly skilled, and worked with his features instead of just trying to cover them up. Unfortunately, that meant that Frankie ended up looking about sixty years old, or maybe an eastern european forty, chubby, moderately wealthy, and slightly vain. Too much rouge on the cheeks, far too elaborate earrings, winged eyeglasses, and a perm.

In a bingo parlor, or church, Frankie wouldn't get a second look.

But here…

Whoof, damn she ugly.

"It's no good, I suppose," Loid said regretfully. "Looks like it's impossible for you to play the mother, Frankie."

"We need a Ma, not a Grandma," I agreed sadly.

"With your skills, why couldn't you have done better?" he asked, rather annoyed.

"There are limits," Loid countered. "Masks add to your features, they can't take them away. You've got a large head, Frankie."

Frankie fumed and staggered off in his high heels to change back.

Loid plotted.

Me? I worried.

This was seriously a deal breaker. If I was going to get into this school, I needed a mother. If I couldn't get into the school, the mission was a failure. Loid's handlers weren't going to put up the money or effort I needed to have an acceptable living situation until I was an adult, not for a failed mission. Most likely, the best I could get would be a nicer orphanage and the occasional checkup.

And I liked Loid. I mean, it took work, and constant mental reinforcement, to see him as a father, but the fact is, I liked his brain. He had a very smooth, orderly mental voice with minimal static. It was soothing. And his job as a spy was fascinating.

Maybe I should just admit I was a psychic? The thought had crossed my head a few times. Surely he wouldn't dump a telepath, a frighteningly useful tool in his line of work, back into the orphanage system.

But… He'd probably tell his handlers. He seemed like a loyal sort, a genuine believer in doing what was good for his country rather than a sociopathic womanizing thrill seeker the way James Bond often seemed to be. Loid's handlers might find me useful enough to preserve as an asset… Or they might cut me apart to see what makes me tick and try to make more of me.

Either way, the more people who knew my secret, the more likely it was I'd be targeted by someone who DID want to cut me open to see what makes me tick.

I did low key plan to tell Loid eventually, but I wanted us to have more of a connection first. I needed him to feel protective, indebted, or, ideally, love for me first. I wouldn't mind being his secret asset. His handler and supporting organization, even if they were mostly good people, would be hard pressed to keep me a secret even if they wanted to. Something always happens, be it now or in the future. Even if I was lucky enough to stay a secret until I was a trillionaire, some Edward Snowden motherfucker would out me eventually.

Would I risk telling him I was a telepath if this mission failed?

I don't know.

There was little I could do to help the situation. Frankie stole employee records and census data. Loid hit bars and browsed the singles ads in the newspapers.

"The problem is, you need a woman who's okay with a previous child, is elegant enough to seem upper-class, and is willing to legally marry you on sight. She also has to be either smart enough to play along, or stupid enough to not notice how irregular all this is," Frankie stated, dropping a huge stack of bios on the table. "If a goddess like that existed, I'd love to meet her."

"Thanks, Frankie."

"Meeting women is hard. I'm not even picky, and I still can't find a date around here," he complained.

"Have you tried just being yourself?" I asked curiously.

"Of course! That's what all the dating guides say!" he griped, throwing his arms up.

I squinted at him. "Maybe… Don't do that? Try being someone nicer." I paused. "Handsomer. You know how to play a role, right?"

He glared at me, then over at Father. "Now even the kid is making fun of me. How is this fair?"

Loid ignored his whining. "Actually, things are tough all over." 'With the loss of so many female agents, and agents in general, they're sending even more missions my way. Short, simple missions, but it's still cutting into my prep time for this.'

He had been disappearing pretty often, at all times of the night and day. I focused on my studies, but had plenty of time for reading, and I had even watched a little bit of TV. The news was interesting from a propaganda perspective, but what passed for entertainment was fun only in the 'wow this is so bad' sort of way.

"It seems that there's been a rash of betrayal and double agents," Frankie admitted.

"It might be good that we didn't get a mother assigned to us if that's the case," I mused as I made some tea. I had to climb up a stool to reach things, but I could do it. "If you had another agent for a wife and she betrayed us, we could all end up shot. I know it's a problem, but I'd like to avoid the risk of a traitor."

Hmm, but I can read minds. Would I be able to catch her before she betrayed us? People don't think about everything they're doing all of the time. In fact, whenever we're pretending to be father and daughter, even Loid's thoughts wouldn't necessarily give him away. He doesn't think things like, 'Oh, here I am with my pretend daughter.' He sinks himself into the mindset.

Really, the only unusual thing about his mental voices, compared to those around him, is how alert he is, always watching and mentally cataloging things like whether or not someone is likely to be armed, or if details don't match appearances.

Frankie took a cup of tea from me, then didn't quite do a spit take.

Huh? Did I say something?

"How do you know about that?" he blurted.

"You said 'agents' out loud, Frankie," Loid said, giving him a reproving look.

"Oh," Frankie said with a gulp, then his expression changed again. "Wait. That doesn't actually explain everything, she should be surprised."

I blinked. Oh. OH! Oh shit. Thank God he did actually say that out loud. It's really easy to accidentally respond to mental comments.

I looked guiltily over at Loid. "Sorry, Father! We've been so casual while we worked on this problem, I let it slip." I scrunched my nose up, thinking hard and fast. "A-and and and… I just have an active imagination!" I exclaimed, finally getting something I could work with. "I don't know anything, I just have an active imagination, and I like that Spy Wars show on TV." I grinned, fake guilelessly, at the two of them. "Papa and Uncle Frankie are great for playing along, but I know the difference between TV and real life!"

We all kind of looked at each other awkwardly, while I kept the fake, determined smile on my face.

"She knew?" Frankie demanded, once again, not playing along with my improvisation.

Damn it, Frankie, you are such a shitty spy.

"She is intelligent, you know," Loid replied dismissively, going back to reading bios.

"I promise to be more careful," I said, cringing a bit. "I'd never slip up like that around people not in the know."

I'm pretty sure that's a lie, actually. I could totally see myself slipping up. I'd have to double down on being careful. This period with Loid has been the most conversation I've ever had in this life, and I clearly haven't fully adapted to telepathy.

"It's fine. I knew you'd figure it out eventually." Father didn't seem concerned.

"And we're okay with this?" Frankie asked, taking umbrage to the lack of concern.

"What do you want?" Father asked, turning the page he was reading. "Like you said, we either needed someone smart enough to play the role, or naive enough to not notice the irregularities. We got intelligence. It is what it is."

Huh. Father was surprisingly cool about this. I guess I'd kind of expected him to be all Batman type super paranoid if any of his secrets were found out. But then again, he's supposed to be a master of dealing with people. I guess knowing when to trust was just as important as knowing how to deceive.

I sat down with a cup of tea and gazed at him in genuine admiration. Dude had skills.

Patting Frankie on the arm, I said, "It was going to get stupidly obvious when I was asked to plant devices in the homes of my classmates. Realistically, you needed someone like me."

Frankie shrugged and bobbled his head in acknowledgement.

One of our clocks chimed two P.M, and I glanced at it. "Papa, don't forget our appointment at the tailor."

He nodded, glancing at the time, then getting up and stretching. "Mother or not, you'll still need nice clothing for the interview. An off the shelf dress won't do."

I nodded.

"See if you can find any likely candidates in these files, Frankie. We should be back within the hour."

"Alright. Take care, Boss."

xxxxxxxxx

So we went to a tailor. Well, an änderungsatelier, because german. A high class place, like where Father would get his suits, except this one clearly catered more to women and girls, judging by all the dresses hanging on mannequins. And this place was just french enough in appearance they probably called them mannequins, instead of like, some horrifying german frankenword, like schaufensterpuppe or something.

I've been doing a lot of vocabulary review, sue me.

Anyway, I'd been switching back and forth between three different off the shelf dresses since the early shopping I'd done with Father. Now we were going for a whole new wardrobe of the sort that would see me fit in with the children of the wealthy. Thank god Father had an impeccable eye for fashion, even women's fashion.

None of my prior life experiences had prepared me for this kind of experience. I mean, there's getting a tuxedo fitted or something, and then there's tailoring.

Now, I don't much like standing on a wooden stool in just a pair of panties while some woman measures every part of me, but I can deal.

The thing is, I had to keep standing there while more and more dresses were thrown on, eyed critically, then either replaced or put in the keep pile. Not just dresses, but also tights, hose, jackets, coats, hats, scarves, mittens, gloves, and socks.

We'd have to go elsewhere for shoes.

The tailor lady was brusque but professional. She posed me like a doll, I stayed there. Everything was impersonal, her thoughts completely focused on her job, with no time for judgement.

Father sat in the waiting room, musing about the various women. Apparently, the seamstress was married, and that was about all the time I had to listen to his thoughts. However, when the measurements were finished and the modest, yet enormously expensive, pile of clothes were being bundled for the final alterations, I went back to the waiting area to find Father talking with a woman.

I found out after a bit that her name was Yor, and she was a beauty. Tall for a woman, though nowhere near Loid's height, lithe and slender with bundled black hair under a head scarf and bangs down to her modest but noticeable chest. What really stood out to me, even as sexless as I am in this underage female body, were her legs. Long, in black tights, and muscled like a ballerina. She wore short, high heeled ankle boots to go with it.

She seemed nice, and her thoughts were of asking Father to a dinner tonight!

Nice!

Father's thoughts were that she seemed too sharp and intelligent, and would be too risky to ask.

No! Not nice!

"Who's this, Papa? Did you meet someone nice?" I asked, putting extra zing into my steps as I went over.

'Oh no, I almost asked out someone married with a child!' she thought guiltily.

Before THAT thought got any traction, I stepped all over it with the grace of a lumbering water buffalo, which I could do because I was a child.

"You've been sad since Mama died. You need more friends!" I chided.

I almost said he needed to find me a new Mama, but that might be pushing her too hard.

Yor's thoughts went from guilty and ashamed back to hopeful.

Hell, yeah, Father. You suave devil, you. Get you some.

"You're… a single father?" she asked.

He gave her a sadly rueful grin. "Yes, my wife passed two years ago. So I'm raising her on my own, without a woman's touch." 'It would be really convenient if she would pretend to be my wife,' he admitted to himself. 'She's intelligent, but just like Anya, if she plays along, the mission will be that much easier.'

'So, there's no problem with asking him to pretend to be my lover!' she thought jubilantly.

…huh? She what now?

She then asked him that.

Straight out loud, no beating around the bush. Even Father was kind of surprised.

"You want me to pretend to be your lover?" Father asked, once we were outside and just sort of loitering.

"I'm 27, and I've never been married or had a boyfriend," she admitted, ashamed. "And the women at the office are getting nosey. Also, when I was on the phone with my brother, I sort of lied and said I had someone I was going to a party with. So I really need a date. If it's not a bother, do you think you could be my date to the party?"

"Oh. Uh-" Loid began, but she continued.

"I don't have any ulterior motives, and I promise to pay you back," she lied hurriedly, but then trailed off quietly. 'If I don't get a boyfriend soon, even a pretend one, people are going to start guessing my secret! I don't want to get dragged away by the secret police!'

"Understood," Father said, "I'll accept. But on one condition."

"Really?! That's wonderful! Name it."

And then he spun this tale he had come up with and I contributed to. Of a lovely, but dead wife who valued education, and wanted only the best for me. And how he had promised to get me into Eden Academy so I would have the absolute best education and chance at a good life. But how the requirements at Eden were strict and unforgiving, and required all children to be in a normal family of a married man and woman. And the deadline for an interview was coming up, and he needed someone to pretend to be his wife, for the sake of me, the daughter.

Yor was indeed pretty sharp, I gathered from reading her thoughts. That, or she was extremely practiced at dealing with liars. Perhaps both. The whole time, she was looking for tells. Nervous glances, twitches, not meeting her eyes, all sort of things.

The thing is, Loid is literally a professional liar. He's very, very good at it.

So there were no tells, which resulted in her believing him completely, trusting in her ability to detect lies, where a more foolish woman might harbor doubts, knowing that she could be deceived.

Wow. I mean, hahah, she got fooled specifically because she was smart. Papa's a hell of a spy. He'd make a frightening con artist.

Though, I suppose some spy jobs might also be considered patriotic cons.

Yor was moved by Father's tale of love lost and promises to be kept. She thought he was a nice man.

Father, of course, was inwardly planning on how to do this favor for her now, then more, and finally convince her to play along with the marriage.

And you know? From listening to her, I think she would be a pretty good pick. She's either a lesbian, or possibly asexual, because she did not seem physically attracted to him in any of her thoughts, and was more focused on keeping some 'secret'. Unmarried at her age was starting to make her look suspicious in the heavily 'normalized' environment of her office work at one of the government buildings.

This could result in cover for both of them. Loid wouldn't care if she was a lesbian, so long as she kept it discrete, and it'd be even easier for an ace. He wasn't actually looking for a lover, just someone to pretend. And since she was looking for the same thing…

I'm sorry for doubting you, Being X. Though this is another tick on the 'active higher being manipulating events and or narrative contrivances' possibility.

I mean, what are the odds we're going to run into a beautiful lesbian that needs a beard right when we need a mommy?

 

[Akuma-Heika]

telephone were very much the kings of transmission

Click to shrink...

FTFY

! I haven't seen any SpyXFamily fanfiction yet

Click to shrink...

Didn't realize it was a series. Novels?

I'm not even mad, like Tanya. I genuinely appreciate this second chance. This place is pretty neat. I like living again. There's a world of possibilities here, I mean, it's similar to my original world, and I'm far enough back in time that with some hard work, I could be the next Steve Jobs, Jeff Bezos, Elon Musk, Larry Page, Sergey Brin, Pierre Omidyar, all rolled into one.

Click to shrink...

A lot of differences between your situation and hers though. Immensely better living conditions, not living in Europe during a delayed, and thus enhanced, WW1, and survival after means you are far better off

Okay, I valued free will enough that I wouldn't blame God for the evils perpetuated by man. The freedom to be awesome is valuable enough to be worth putting up with the shitheads being free to suck,

Click to shrink...

I like how you are blunt on this. To paraphrase, "Why does He allow evil to exist? Because wiping it out would be xenocide, you idiot."

Edit for chapter 4 materal:

'Oh no, I almost asked out someone married with a child!' she thought guiltily.

Click to shrink...

I am surprised she didn't come to such a conclusion earlier, when a guy is sitting around alone in a high end store for females...

So there were no tells, which resulted in her believing him completely, trusting in her ability to detect lies, where a more foolish woman might harbor doubts, knowing that she could be deceived.

Click to shrink...

Might want to reword this. Currently, it reads to me that a more foolish woman would believe she was being deceived, specifically because she couldn't even find a trace of a deception. The only people where not finding anything that looked off to cause alarms to go off would be the paranoid, spys, or victims. While being a fool isn't mutually exclusive with any of these, it isn't mutually inclusive either.

Well, I am going to pass out now. Good night/morning people.

 

[Liam-don]

This is neat so far, and an enjoyable read as usual from you, but it's also kind of... flat?

As you said, Spy x Family is zany spy action story. You removed much of the zaniness by turning the 5 years old with an overactive imagination and no impulse control into a second straightman. You even smoothed out Loiid's internal dialogue into a well-oiled machine that never has wild assumptions or think outlandish thoughts. Then by making your lone point of view character a sane person, rather than the foolishly childish girl she was in the original, you remove yourself from the action entirely.

What remains is... slice-of-life? Grade schooler drama? Something rather bland compared to the original anyway.

This is still cold war spy stuff as advertised, but more Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy than Casino Royale.

 

[Nugar]

This is neat so far, and an enjoyable read as usual from you, but it's also kind of... flat?

As you said, Spy x Family is zany spy action story. You removed much of the zaniness by turning the 5 years old with an overactive imagination and no impulse control into a second straightman. You even smoothed out Loiid's internal dialogue into a well-oiled machine that never has wild assumptions or think outlandish thoughts. Then by making your lone point of view character a sane person, rather than the foolishly childish girl she was in the original, you remove yourself from the action entirely.

What remains is... slice-of-life? Grade schooler drama? Something rather bland compared to the original anyway.

This is still cold war spy stuff as advertised, but more Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy than Casino Royale.

Click to shrink...

Yeah. It is kinda flat. I went into this with no plan, no plot, and nothing but a sudden maniacal urge to write, because it's been a while since I've been able to write, and my life is currently falling apart and I had to do something or go insane. (Health issues that largely made me feel bad enough to stop writing have gotten worse, and now I'm basically losing the best job I've ever had because I'm so sick, and bill collectors are snapping at my heels, and I kind of want it all to stop.) So I'm finally unhappy enough to really write, and I'm just throwing words down.

The thing is, SpyXFamily isn't actually that great of a manga. It's kinda fun, but it's also kinda stupid. And I have a competent people fetish. 'Smart' people doing dumb shit turns me off. Loid is a goddamn adult, and a spy. Why is he gonna blush and stammer at the thought of kissing Yor? It's fucking stupid. I hate it.

Now, Yor is much more comfortable with killing than affection. I'm fine with her being a twittering virgin. But I'm not going to have Loid be a generic anime protagonist.

And yeah, with Anya now having a mature mind, a lot of the comedy the manga relied on will be unavailable. I'm trying to make up for that with a certain amount of snark, but as you said, it's a bit flat.

My future plans did largely involve 'serious' spy mission plots. Anya as a briefcase loli, carried by Loid, using her psychic powers to help him complete missions. Later on, when she's more trusted, Yor there with him, murdering folks.

The family that slays together stays together.

Hell, that's probably another reason this feels kinda flat. All of Loid's action adventure scenes are off camera, since I'm doing it first person and Anya isn't there for those events. It does need more adventure.

In the manga, the first family adventure bit they do is when the mugger steals the old woman's money. I don't want to just rehash that, so I need something else.

Also, I'm not even sure if I should keep working on this. I'm back into a writing mindset, maybe I should resume No Promises or something.

I don't know. All I know is I'm a very unhappy person right now.

 

[Liam-don]

I don't know. All I know is I'm a very unhappy person right now.

Click to shrink...

How am I supposed to be happy you're back to writing when you put it that way, jeez?

Hope your troubles get sorted out the best way they can.

 

[Hypervane]

Didn't realize it was a series. Novels?

Click to shrink...

It's--

a manga.

Click to shrink...

Uh, yeah. That. You can find it on Mangarock, or wherever you prefer. It's fun and zany comedy stuff, so if you're into that, have a gander!

Also, I'm not even sure if I should keep working on this. I'm back into a writing mindset, maybe I should resume No Promises or something.

I don't know. All I know is I'm a very unhappy person right now.

Click to shrink...

Whatever the case, I'm enjoying this. I haven't read any of your other stuff but SIyna's internal narration is a delightful contrast to the typical sociopathic stuff you find. Even if the world isn't as zany as the manga, it clearly seems so in her head and her thoughts are just fun to follow. So like, if this makes you happy then please continue! I'll be reading it, in any case.

My future plans did largely involve 'serious' spy mission plots. Anya as a briefcase loli, carried by Loid, using her psychic powers to help him complete missions. Later on, when she's more trusted, Yor there with him, murdering folks.

The family that slays together stays together.

Click to shrink...

Now there's a great summary!

 

[Akuma-Heika]

It's--

Uh, yeah. That. You can find it on Mangarock, or wherever you prefer. It's fun and zany comedy stuff, so if you're into that, have a gander!


Whatever the case, I'm enjoying this. I haven't read any of your other stuff but SIyna's internal narration is a delightful contrast to the typical sociopathic stuff you find. Even if the world isn't as zany as the manga, it clearly seems so in her head and her thoughts are just fun to follow. So like, if this makes you happy then please continue! I'll be reading it, in any case.

Now there's a great summary!

Click to shrink...

Huh. Based on the tone of your fic, I was expecting a Western Novel. While Spy work does exist in the East, it usually has a different tone. Need to check it out!

 

[TopHatWearer]

I for one am really enjoying this story. After reading your first two chapters I went and read spyxfaimly and honestly I prefer your story. I guess that's because that kind of wild zany humor isn't my favorite. I hope you continue writing and that things start to get better for you.

 

[Nugar]

Someone on SV, probably looking for Spy x Family fics given the anime is now out, necroed the thread on SV. I'd literally forgotten the details of this story in the years since. You ever go back and read something you'd written and be like, '...why'.

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.


xxxxxxxxx
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.


xxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxx


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.'


xxxxxxxxx
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.

xxxxxxxxx

"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.

x
x
x
x


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.

 

[Akuma-Heika]

Forgot all about this

Need to reread; guessing the new anime psyched you up

 

[Zaztra Vandesh]

I hope Yor and Loid do end up genuinely fell in love tho

 

[Nugar]

I hope Yor and Loid do end up genuinely fell in love tho

Click to shrink...

Seems that way.

 

[TopHatWearer]

It's nice to see this updated ^_^ I really enjoyed it when it first came out.

 

[zephyrbarnes]

Just discovered this fic... love it.

 

[Askasknot]

This is great I need more cotton candy in my life XD
I look forward to seeing where you take this!!!

 

[Nugar]

xxxxxxxxx
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.


xxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxx


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.

xxxxxxxxx
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.


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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.

 

[DeclanDSI]

This has been a pretty fun si story so far. I'm looking forward to more.

 

[Marduk]

'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.'

Click to shrink...

"You know in hindsight; maybe the orphanage wasnt that bad?"

 

[Argentorum]

Quality spy x family content. Exactly what I needed

 

[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.

 

[Grimmouse197]

So is she going to tell him about the super dangerous assassin that he happened to pick up?