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“Take this, Thorn Princess!”
The bodyguard's arm flies forward. Yor barely dodges his sword, her thoughts running. He's well-trained. Usually they go down in under three minutes.
She hops back, trying to predict his chaotic movement. He runs forward to close the distance and swings again. His knife misses her, but not her bangs. The sword cuts them off, ebony strands falling to the ground.
Does he know how long that takes to style!? Yor curses. “You'll pay for that!!!”
She dodges around him, stabbing him in his knife arm, then kicks him in his lower back. He flies forward, head hitting the ground.
That's what you get, punk!
****
A few hours later, outside the Forger apartment…
Yor holds her miniature “vanity mirror”(actually a reflective device to blind enemies during battle) in her hand. She stares at her reflection, and her unwanted haircut. Her hair is mostly the same, but without her bangs, it doesn't feel the same.
Now what? Everyone knows me by those. Now I look like Yuri…not that that's a bad thing, but Yuri should have an identity outside of me…
She tries to style her hair, running her fingers through her hair. She's never been good at styling herself, outside of seduction missions. Except she noticed Garden rarely tasked her with them, after she nearly failed one.
How was I supposed to know the difference between rouge and burgundy? Everything looks like blood anyways…
She sighs, “Well, I have to come home anyways…” and opens the door.
Anya sits in front of the TV, Bond lying next to her. She occasionally pets him, and he wags his tail in response. The late afternoon sun filters in through the shades, casting orange-yellow light.
Yor tries to step inside slowly, hoping Anya won't see her. She miscalculates the distance between a flooring accent and her foot, and steps on it. She almost falls over, but catches herself. But the sound of her accident alerts Bond anyways.
He raises his head, turns around, and barks. Anya turns around, “Welcome home-” she begins. When she sees Yor's haircut, her eyes go wide. “Uncle Yuri?!”
“No no, it's me, mama-”
“MAMA?!” Anya exclaims, jaw dropped.
Anya hears Yor's thoughts, Stupid bodyguard! Cutting my hair off like that…
Anya thinks to herself, Ohhhh, so mama's hair got stabbed! What if papa doesn't like her with short hair? WHAT IF SPIES CAN'T DATE WOMEN WITH SHORT HAIR?! I never see Bondman save short haired women…so it must be a rule! Maybe if it looks all slick, papa will like it…?
“Uhhh, mama! I have a- uh- school project!” Anya hops up, waddling over to her. “Where I have to style hair for…” she pauses, “because it's an uprighty and noble thing to do! So maybe I could style your hair…?”
Yor thinks about it, it might be a great chance to know Anya better… then answers. “Well, if it's for school…okay! But let's get it done before papa gets home.”
***
Yor sits in a kitchen chair, while Anya stands on the table.
“Anya, be careful with scissors. They can be really sharp!” Not to mention rusted, or infected, or can make nasty cuts…that assassin who wields scissors freaks me out…
The scissors tremble in Anya's hands. “Uhh, don't worry mama! Anya is totesally capable!”
I don't know how to style! Eden College was focused on academics, not fashion. Everything she knew about fashion was from Becky.
Bond stares at them, and whines. He hides his head in his paws.
Bond! Think of something! Pleassssse! Anya begs.
As if on cue, Anya sees Bond's vision. In it, Loid steps back, eyes wide, covering his mouth. Yor's cheeks are flushed, tears running down her cheek.
AHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Papa doesn't like short haaaaaair!
“Uh, Anya, is everything alright?” Yor asks.
“EVERYTHING FINE MAMA! let the master of styling handles it!” Anya answers.
She examines Yor's hair. There's random strands sticking out around the top. Some look burnt, some look cut. I'll cuts that…!
Anya trims the area, then looks lower, above Yor's neck. There's a long, thin scar down the back of her neck. “Uh, mama, when did you gets hurt…?”
“Oh! T-that! When I was your age, me and your uncle were roughhousing,” Yor says, but she thinks it was one of my first missions, before we recruited the scissor assassin, “and he pushed me back, and I hit a tree! Haha! Silly kid stuff!” He used my critical lack of dodging skills against me. He aimed at the most vulnerable part of my back! I bled so much…
WHY IS MAMA'S LIFE SO SCARY!? Anya thinks, trying to avoid the scar.
***
Meanwhile…
Loid stops at a crosswalk, waiting for pedestrians to cross.
How can they walk so calmly? No no Loid, remember, they're not aware… Loid had been pursuing a notorious assassin for a week. He was infamous for using scissors, and supposedly worked for Garden now. While he didn't harm civilians, he had heard how often Garden assassins infiltrate and hide among society. They're not even working for peace or justice, just for money… this assassin in particular had been loitering around Franky's stall. Franky was terrified, and had begged Loid to look into it.
He better not be panicking…again…
Loid turns on the corner, and once he sees the apartment, pulls to the side to park.
He looks up, unconsciously, and sees his apartment's windows. He can see Yor, nervous. The sunlight catches something silver and sharp, aimed at her.
No…!
Loid rushes out of the car, slamming the door behind him. He fumbles with his keys as he climbs up the stairs. Fear overriding logic, he kicks the door down. He runs up the fleet of stairs, reaching for his gun.
When he gets to their floor, he briefly thinks of waiting. Maybe he wants me to rush in, Loid thinks.
He hears a scream, That’s Yor!
“Mama!” Anya cries out. Did that sick freak target Anya too!? He hears Bond’s borf quiet, pained. And an innocent animal, too!
Loid runs up and kicks the door down–
And finds Yor unharmed.
“Mama! I swear we can make it better!” Anya cries, scissors up in the air.
Bond’s paws cover his eyes. He lifts one briefly, then lowers it back down, borf-ing again.
Loid looks at Yor–
And blinks.
Her hair is cut short, elegant even. It highlights the strength in her jaw, and the way her cheekbones frame her lower eyes.
Loid covers his mouth. “Yor…you look…beautiful.”
Yor’s cheeks flush, and she cries. “R-really!?”
“Y–yes…” Loid tries to regain his strength, Remain calm, Twilight…ignore how her eyes pierce right into your eyes now…!
Anya hears his thoughts and smile. So papa likes short hair? Maybe his spy organstation hires short haired women!
Anya looks at the gun, “Uhh, papa…why do you have a gun!?”
Yor notices, but remains calm. It’s a dud, I think. I’ve never seen that model.
“O–oh, this?” Loid smiles and fails, pointing at the gun. “It’s a– uh– prop one, for self-defense. I teach my patients a lot you know, helps them conquer their fears.”
He clears his throat afterward. “But uh– I’m going to go call Uncle Franky.”
“But why?” Yor asks, standing up slowly. He notices how her cut black strands fall, and he shudders.
“Because…uh…I think a…dinner would be nice.”
“A dinner ooting!?” Anya cheers.
“Uh, actually Anya, one for just…me and Yor. Franky can watch over you while we’re gone.” He blushes, and looks down. “If you’ll accept my offer, Yor?”
She clasps her hands, “I’d love to! Let me find a nice dress–”
“Suit would be fine!” Loid adds. “Uh, a change of…p–pace…”
“But I’ll look like Yuri…”
“Yor…trust me. You…you don’t look anything like him.”
Anya’s stomach growl. “Can uncle Franky take me on the ooting too? We’ll sit elsewhere, promise!”
“O–of course, Anya.” Loid regains his composure for a moment. “Go get dressed. I’ll serve Bond a special dinner too, since he can’t come with us.”
“Yay! Ooting, ooting…” Anya hums as she runs off.
“Oh, Anya wait–” Yor calls, “Did you tell your father you did my haircut?” Well, most of it.
Anya freezes. “Uh…yeah. Uhm…did Anya do good, papa?”
She did this?! Loid thinks, What is Eden teaching her? Well, if it goes toward a Stella Star…
“You did a great job, Anya.” Loid says warmly. “May I give you a hug?”
“Okie!” Anya runs back over to him, nearly tripping over the carpet. She hugs his leg first, then he kneels down and gives her a hug. Her stomach growls and she pulls away. “Tummy! Hungee! Must dress!” And runs off.
“Loid, I don’t know if I have any suits, now that I think about it…” Yor thinks. “Can I borrow one of the ones you don’t use?”
“Yes, yes you may.” He says with an awkward smile, blushing.
Oh Twilight, you had to marry a woman who could embody your sole weakness…
cool women.