CHAPTER NINTEEN: Knowing each other more
As Blade prepared for work, a small, curious voice interrupted his thoughts.
“What’s that?”
He turned, scanning the room for whatever had caught her attention, but found nothing unusual. His confusion deepened until she stepped closer, her tiny fingers brushing against a scar etched into his side, just beneath his ribs.
“And this?” she asked, pointing to another mark on his upper arm.
Blade stilled. No one had ever asked about his scars before. No one had cared enough to.
“You have so many tattoos, Uncle,” she murmured, eyes wide with astonishment.
“Tattoos?” He almost laughed at the absurdity of it. It was the first time anyone had mistaken his scars for something beautiful. Yet, the thought was oddly pleasant.
A rare smile tugged at his lips. “They’re called tattoos of honor,” he told her, voice softer than usual. “I earned each one in battle.”
Her eyes shimmered with sincerity. “If I work really hard, will I get a tattoo of honor too?”
Blade crouched, brushing his hand gently over her head. “I hope not, Lenora. But if you work hard—really hard—you’ll earn something even better.”
As he rose to slip on a local shirt Frizzy had given him, he felt her lingering gaze. From a distance, his back resembled an intricate tapestry, each scar woven into the next, a silent testament to the life he had lived. To her innocent eyes, it was art.
A soft knock interrupted them. The door swung open, revealing Frizzy.
“Hey, guys.”
Lenora beamed and darted toward him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
Blade fastened the last button on his shirt before giving Frizzy a sidelong glance. “Shouldn’t you be asleep after your night shift?”
Frizzy shrugged, effortlessly hoisting Lenora onto his hip. “I’m used to it now. Can’t sleep even when I try.”
From his position near the cupboard, Blade caught their reflection—a picture of ease he hadn’t known in years. He sighed, turning fully.
“Haven’t I told you to stop pampering the girl?”
Frizzy barely spared him a glance. “She’s five, Blade. She’s supposed to be pampered.” Then, lowering his voice, he asked Lenora, “What do you want for breakfast?”
She leaned in conspiratorially. “Milk and baked yam… with that peppered meat from the vendor across the street.”
Frizzy chuckled. “You mean the one he sells?”
She nodded, grinning.
“Go on, tell Uncle to give you the money.”
“What if he refuses?” she whispered back.
“You’ll never know unless you try.”
Encouraged, Lenora wriggled free and sprinted toward Blade. Wrapping her small arms around his leg—since that was as far as she could reach—she clung to him like a starfish.
Blade paused, his attempt at tying his shoulder-length hair into a bun momentarily forgotten.
“What is it, Lenor?”
She peered up at him, eyes impossibly round. “Uncle, can you leave some extra money before you go to work today? I want to buy what the vendor… sells across the street.”
Lifting his leg slightly, he carried her with it. She clung tighter, giggling.
“Who’s really asking? You or Frizzy?” His brow arched.
“Me.”
He exhaled, feigning reluctance. “How much?”
“Fifteen coins.”
She was trying to look cuter than she already was—Blade could tell.
“Fine,” he relented, “but on one condition. You buy it before I leave.”
“Deal.”
Satisfied, Blade lowered his leg gently, and Lenora hugged both of them, her joy so radiant it was contagious.
“Thank you, Uncle!”
Blade didn’t understand why food made her this happy, but he was glad. For once, that bright, innocent smile—the one she had once given Milani—was now his.
“I’ll go with her,” Frizzy offered.
“No.” Blade’s refusal was immediate. “Let her handle things on her own. If we keep spoon-feeding her, she won’t grow.”
Frizzy studied him, then smirked. “Or is it that you still don’t trust me alone with her?” He leaned against the doorframe. “It’s been two months, and you’re still on edge.”
Blade met his gaze, mirroring the smirk. “Glad you noticed.”
He turned back to his work, voice calm but firm. “And I don’t see anything wrong with staying on edge. You and I come from different worlds—it’s only natural that we see things differently.”
_____________________________________________✍
“Aren’t you going out today?” Lenora asked, pausing to catch her breath after an intense training session.
The alleyway they called home had been transformed into a makeshift courtyard, a space where she tirelessly honed her skills. For the first time in a while, Blade allowed himself to sit back and take in the view—the bustling street beyond, the people moving about their day, and Lenora herself, finally taking the shape he had envisioned for her.
“What, you’re not happy I’m actually spending time with you?” He feigned offense.
She arched a skeptical brow, nose high in mock suspicion. “Really? You’re staying home all day? Wait… Did business slow down, or are you sick?”
A laugh burst from his lips, sharp and unexpected. She stared at him, eyes brightening like the moon against a starry sky.
“I’m just tired,” he admitted, voice dipping into something softer. “I wanted to spend the day with you, that’s all. Besides, you owe me a treat for yesterday. You and Frizzy enjoyed it alone.”
He pouted, and she flinched so dramatically he almost laughed again.
“Don’t pout. That doesn’t suit you,” she said bluntly.
His smile vanished in an instant. Embarrassing.
“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, pushing past the moment, “I’ll be here all day. Whether you like it or not, I’m going nowhere.”
Her face lit up. “Do you want to see what I’ve been practicing?”
He raised a brow, taking a slow sip from the cup of water resting on the stool beside him. “What is this? I thought you hated my training.”
She hesitated for a beat before flashing a grin. “But it makes you happy, Uncle.”
Blade stilled. The weight of those words sank deep.
“You’re training just to make me happy?” Disbelief coated his voice.
“Why else?”
A scoff left him. “Wow… That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard all day.”
She stood there, watching him, as if unsure whether he was angry.
He leaned forward, his wooden chair creaking beneath him. “Come here.”
Her movements were careful as she stepped closer. He adjusted the stool for her, setting aside the glass cup before motioning for her to sit. She obeyed, folding herself into the seat, her long skirt concealing the tremble in her legs.
“Let’s have an honest conversation, shall we?” His voice dipped, taking on a more serious edge.
She nodded slowly.
“Tell me, Lenora—how have I always seemed to you?”
She hesitated, brows knitting together in confusion. He sighed, breaking it down.
“Was I always so scary?”
This time, she nodded without a second thought.
“How scary?”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Like a monster that hated me.”
Blade blinked. “Hold on. A monster? Sister Lenora, isn’t that a bit much?” He exhaled in mock exasperation. “And why would I hate you? Have I ever pointed a gun at you?”
She nodded—vigorously.
His hand flew to his chest. “When was that?!”
“The day Sister Milani wanted to take me out, and you said no. You were holding that poosh poosh.”
He frowned. “Poosh poosh?”
She mimicked a gun with her fingers. “Poosh poosh!”
Ah. Understanding dawned. “You mean a gun?”
She nodded.
“So that’s why you think I hate you? Because of a poosh poosh?”
“And you always yell at me. You even sent Sister Milani away because you didn’t want me around,” she added, eyes solemn.
Blade fell silent, struck by the innocence of her perception.
With a sigh, he studied her. “That’s why you think I hate you?”
“Yes. But not anymore,” she said with quiet certainty. “If I do what you ask, you won’t yell at me anymore. You’ll treat me like a friend.”
“Lenora,” he murmured, shaking his head, “you’ve got it all wrong.”
She frowned, waiting.
Blade rose to his feet in one fluid motion, snatching up a small bird that had landed nearby to peck at scattered grains. With practiced ease, he sank back into his seat, the creature struggling weakly in his grasp.
“See this bird?” He held it up, and she nodded, eyes locked on it.
Without warning, he began to tighten his grip. The bird flailed, its cries growing desperate.
“Uncle, stop! You’ll kill it!” Lenora lunged forward, hands clutching his in a desperate attempt to pry them open.
He stilled.
“Did your heart hurt for the bird?”
Instead of answering, she slapped his hand away, freeing it. The bird fluttered off, vanishing into the sky.
“The bird did nothing wrong!” she scolded, brows furrowed in righteous anger.
“And you did nothing wrong either,” he said evenly, “but there are people in this world who would squeeze and suffocate you just like that bird.”
She stared at him, bewildered. “Why? What did I do to them?”
“You don’t have to do anything.”
“But not everyone is like that. Sister Milani isn’t like that.” She jutted her chin out defiantly.
He inclined his head. “I agree. But how do you know who is and who isn’t? Do you wait until they hurt you?”
Her lips parted slightly before she settled on a question of her own. “Is that why you sent her away?”
“Sister Milani left on her own,” he said, voice even. “She had something to take care of. I just… didn’t tell you.”
Lenora’s faith in Milani was absolute. He wouldn’t be the one to shatter it.
“Listen, Lenor. There are people out there—the same people who killed your parents—who want you dead, too. I’m training you so that if you ever face them, you’ll know how to protect yourself. They won’t hesitate just because you’re a child. They don’t show mercy, and they never will—”
“ENOUGH!”
The roar of outrage cut him off.
Blade turned, only to find Frizzy standing behind Lenora, hands clamped over her ears.
“Are you serious right now?” Frizzy seethed. “How the hell could you say that to a kid?”
Blade’s eyes narrowed. “And who said you could butt into our conversation?”
Frizzy scoffed, disbelief laced in every syllable. “I thought you were just clueless about raising a child. I didn’t realize you were malicious. You’re painting the world black before she even has a chance to see its colors. Just because your life was hell doesn’t mean hers has to be.”
With a scornful shake of his head, Frizzy carefully helped Lenora to her feet and led her inside.
Blade stood there, frozen, as the door slammed shut in his face.
