The day had been long, brutal, and a little frustrating.
What started with Mizue’s casual obsession to “teach her to talk” had spiraled into an endless gauntlet of pointing, repeating, and badgering.
By late evening, Kyuu could finally manage simple words — “food,” “sleep,” “Orby” — and string together clumsy little phrases that almost made sense.
She even threw her first tantrum, loudly refusing soup Yura tried to feed her, not understanding what the substance was, which Mizue found hilarious.
Progress was messy, but true.
It was sometime deep into the night when Mizue finally leaned back in her chair, yawning lazily, while Yura sat slumped against the wall like a broken puppet.
In front of them, Kyuu blinked slowly at the floating words Mizue had been scribbling midair. Her head tilted forward. Then jerked back. Then tilted again.
A tiny snore escaped her lips.
Mizue smiled to herself. “Finally,” she said, tossing her chalk aside.
“Yura, she’s done for. Clean her up, tuck her in, and try not to screw it up too badly.”
Yura peeled her face off the wall. “What do you mean me?! I’m not a babysitter! I’m—I’m a student!”
Mizue flicked her wand lazily. A floating mana-hand bopped Yura lightly on the head.
“Student, servant, same difference,” she said sweetly. “Go on. Shoo.”
Yura groaned but pushed herself up, dragging her feet toward Kyuu.
Mizue waved her wand again, dissolving the barrier trapping Orby.
Orby immediately flopped onto the floor with a hollow plop, lying there motionless, like a casualty of war.
Mizue didn’t even react.
She simply stretched her arms overhead and yawned again.
Kyuu, half-asleep, was pulled away by Yura.
Orby sluggishly wobbled upright and slowly began following her out of the room.
Yura stumbled down the dorm hallway, grumbling under her breath, dragging Kyuu behind her like an awkward puppy on a leash. Orby trailed them both like a sad balloon.
Finally reaching her room, Yura flipped on the lights, dumped her armload of supplies, and pointed at the bathroom.
“Bath. We’re doing it. No arguments.”
Kyuu blinked at her, still glassy-eyed.
Yura ran the bath — warm, comfortable, normal — but Kyuu simply stood at the edge of the tub, staring at the swirling water like it was some kind of sorcery.
Poke. Poke.
“Drink?” Kyuu mumbled, poking the surface and shaking her hand as the water stuck to it.
Yura sighed.
“No, dummy. It’s a “bath”. And you’re getting in.”
She stripped Kyuu out of the plain clothes she had been wearing and gently pushed her into the tub.
Kyuu sat stiffly, legs stuck straight out like sticks, arms plastered to her sides, eyes wide.
“You’re supposed to relax,” Yura muttered, kneeling behind her. She scooped up soap, working it into a lather in her hands before starting to scrub Kyuu’s limp hair.
Kyuu made a low, curious noise as bubbles formed around her head.
“Hold still,” Yura warned.
She filled a wooden cup with clean water.
“Okay. Listen up. I’m gonna rinse. When I say now, you shut your eyes. Reaaal tight. Like you’re gonna die if you open them. Got it?”
Kyuu nodded once, very seriously.
Yura lifted the cup.
“Now.”
Kyuu immediately clenched her whole body, squeezing her eyes shut so hard her entire face scrunched up like she was awaiting execution.
Yura snorted, biting back a laugh, and carefully poured the water over Kyuu’s head.
For one perfect second, it worked.
Then — Kyuu, curious to visuallize the sensation of water, tilted her face up mid-pour.
A thick stream of soapy water went straight into her open eyes.
“AHHHhhhhhHHH—!!” Kyuu shrieked, flailing her arms wildly, smacking and splashing Yura, soaking the bathroom floor in the process.
“I said shut your eyes, dummy!” Yura shouted, grabbing her shoulders.
“Hold still! You’re making it worse! You’re — stop — no punching!”
Kyuu continued flailing helplessly, emitting long warbling cries like a drowning goose.
Yura, drenched and sputtering, managed to force Kyuu’s head under the faucet long enough to rinse her face clean.
Kyuu slumped forward against Yura’s chest with a pitiful groan.
“Drama queen,” Yura muttered, wrapping a towel around her soggy, mess of a head.
After what felt like an eternity of suffering, Yura finally got Kyuu dried, bundled into an oversized academy T-shirt, and dragged her into bed.
Kyuu wriggled under the blanket, blinking sleepily up at Yura.
Orby flopped onto the floor nearby with a soft plap, refusing to move another inch.
Yura sighed, tucking the blanket around Kyuu properly.
Kyuu murmured something faint and half-formed.
“…Good… ?”
Yura, sinking onto the floor with her hair still dripping and her sanity on life support, stared at the ceiling.
“Yeah,” she muttered. “Sure. Good day.”
Kyuu yawned, curled up tight, and fell asleep almost instantly.
Yura lay sprawled next to the bed, breathing heavily, the distant drip of bathwater the only sound.
She was too tired to move.
She could only hope that tommorrow would be less stressful.
