Disclaimer: We don’t own Witch Hunter Robin. We do own Reika, Javan, Ophelia, her kids, and the pair of rude old women.
Amon: I can’t believe this.
Kitsune and Puff: Believe what?
Amon: You didn’t kill each other.
Puff: We complement each other. Like a katana and wakizashi.
Kitsune: We work just fine alone, but we work even better together. We just fight a lot.
Puff: You see, Kitsune and I are like day and night. One cannot exist without the other. Despite our differences.
Amon: … I still wish you had fought.
Kitsune: We’ll give you a display of how well we can work together. Pick out a bamboo sword, leave your gun on the table, and go hide somewhere.
Amon: *suspicious* Why?
Puff: We’re going to hunt you. We each get a bamboo sword to attack or defend. Go hide.
Amon: *snatches bamboo sword off of the table before disappearing down a hall*
Puff: Shall we?
Kitsune: I’ll take the left wing and you take the right.
Puff: I want the left!
Kitsune: I called it!
Puff: But I want the left wing!
Kitsune: Fine. I’ll take the left and you take the right.
Puff: Okay! *runs off*
Kitsune: It’s like taking candy from a baby. *snickers*
Chapter Eleven: Silent Treatment
Amon simply couldn’t believe what his daughter had suggested. It was going to be difficult to get himself out of the situation without upsetting either Robin or Javan. The hunter wisely elected to stay silent until he could come up with a way to escape relatively unharmed. Robin seemed to have the same idea; the girl had turned her head and was tinged pink.
“Well, what do you think?” Javan prompted, her patience growing thin. Amon was still lost in his own thoughts and Robin was thinking how fate seemed to be saying something to them. She pushed those kinds of thoughts away; she had to distract Javan.
“Why don’t we go play on the swings,” Robin suggested, praying that the little girl would decide it would be more fun to play than to wait for an answer.
“No, I want you and daddy to get married,” Javan said intensely, crossing her arms and narrowing her blue-gray eyes. Robin recoiled a fraction of an inch; the child was most definitely picking up on her father’s mannerisms.
“We don’t like each other,” Amon said sharply, startling his companions and then continued after a brief pause, “that way.”
“What way?” Javan inquired, her eyes beginning to pool with tears. Robin wrapped her arms around the crying girl, placing a calming hand on her dark hair. Amon felt irate green eyes lingering on him; apparently Robin didn’t like how he’d handled Javan’s ‘suggestion’. He tried to return the glare, but decided it would be best to keep to himself for a few minutes.
“Your father and I are just friends,” Robin said tenderly, letting her glare drop for a second to look Javan in the eyes but let it return when she looked back up at Amon, “I suppose.”
“You aren’t going to get married?” Javan asked, pouting like it was going out of style. Robin shook her head, her bangs catching on the gentle breeze. Amon found himself watching her out of the corner of his eye, though he did it very discreetly. He didn’t want to give the craft user the wrong idea.
“Why are you looking at me?” Robin questioned icily, trying to figure out how she could keep her eyes in two different spots. It didn’t work all too well and she had to settle for looking at Amon instead of the morose little child that had resentfully went to go back and play. The cold hunter turned his head so he could look at her completely, now that he had been found out.
“I was seeing how you dealt with children,” Amon responded unambiguously, his cool voice meshing well with the soft whispering of the wind through the tree leaves. Luckily, Robin accepted his answer at face value and didn’t read further into the subject; like the fact that Amon had still been staring at her after Javan had already ran off.
“You never answered me,” Robin said after an uncomfortable moment of silence. Amon raised an eyebrow to signify he didn’t know, or didn’t want to know, what she was talking about.
“I asked you if you would be worried about me if I called Ophelia and didn’t tell you. You never answered me,” Robin clarified, her voice utterly unreadable. Amon, despite maintaining his cold façade outside, cringed inside; he had been hoping that Robin had forgotten about his lack of response or, better yet, the entire conversation. He felt that he wasn’t on the best of terms with the craft user whom could incinerate him on a single impulse.
“You are valuable to the STN-J,” Amon stated firmly, watching his daughter play in the sandbox. Robin turned to look at him, her eyes wide with hurt, before slowly walking off.
“Robin!” Amon called out, standing to follow her. The craft user went and said something to Javan before walking to the cement path. The two-year-old ran over to her father in a huffy state, her black hair whipping in the wind and her eyes narrowed dangerously. Amon turned to observe his daughter, but was taken aback by her displeased mood.
“Daddy, what did you do to Robin?” Javan asked furiously, her hands set on her hips.
“I didn’t do anything,” Amon snapped back, not quite realizing he was getting embroiled in a verbal fight with a toddler.
“Then why did she look like she was going to cry?” Javan inquired, sounding much older than her two years. Amon didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t; he just glared and set himself back down on the park bench. Javan followed him, stomping her feet and pursing her lips into a faint line. The hunter realized that she had, in fact, inherited Reika’s temperament. His life could turn out to be a physical embodiment of the underworld if he didn’t handle things properly.
“What did Robin say?” Amon inquired politely, not letting his dark eyes stray from his irate daughter.
“She said that she was going to go back to the office,” Javan said coldly, letting Amon get a taste of his own medicine.
“Is that all?” Amon pushed, trying to squeeze every drop of information that he could out of the child.
“Yes, but her eyes were all big and sad,” Javan added sadly, hugging her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around herself. Amon simply couldn’t believe how mature-sounding his two-year-old was. Her maturity in some situations could either turn out to be like hitting pay dirt or it could be a death sentence, Amon decided.
“Let’s go back to the office,” Amon said, his voice not quite empty of emotion like normal; there was something unreadable hidden in his tone. The hunter lifted his daughter off of the bench, carrying her gently and allowing her to play with his hair all she wanted.
On the walk back to the office, Amon spotted those annoying old women again but they simply rushed off and left him alone. Most of the people on the paths were minding their own business, not paying much attention to the outside world; there were fewer people walking around so it was easy to just let your body go on autopilot.
The wind was soft, but unrelenting. A constant stirring of the green leaves and branches they were attached to. Amon and Javan’s dark hair danced on the breeze, the strands intermingling and becoming indistinguishable from one another. The hunter was pleased he had decided to put Javan in her pink jacket, even if it was a bit thin for the day’s weather.
“Where’s Robin?” Amon asked, stepping into the office and placing Javan on the ground. Doujima rushed to intercept the child, trying to tease her black hair back into staying flat; the wind had tousled both father and daughter’s hair, though Doujima wasn’t going to try and fix Amon’s. Not on her life, which is probably what would be missing if she attempted to touch Amon.
“She went out to investigate some old case files with Miho,” Doujima explained casually, pulling frilly dresses out of a backpack and holding them up to Javan. Amon went and stood over Michael’s desk, peering at the hacker’s laptop screen. After a moment, the hacker turned to look at the cold hunter.
“Do you know where they went?” Amon inquired coolly, placing one hand on the crowded desk.
“No, not really. Karasuma grabbed a stack of folders before they left,” Michael said, gesturing towards an empty spot on the edge of his desk, “But I think they may have just left to talk. Robin didn’t look like she was feeling up to hunting.” Amon set himself in a chair and crossed his arms before the conversation could advance any further. Michael watched him for a second from behind his amber glasses before he put his earphones back in and returned to his computer.
For at least an hour, nothing really productive happened in the office. Amon sat and brooded, Doujima shoved Javan into countless designer outfits, and Michael ended up playing some online RPG. Then Karasuma and Robin came back. The craft user looked a little better than when she had left the park, but completely ignored Amon when they greeted everyone.
“How did it go Miho?” Doujima asked, tying ribbons into Javan’s hair, “Anything interesting?”
“No, all the locations for the case files that I took were wrong. It seems that all the witches moved or something,” Karasuma sighed, letting herself fall into the chair next to Doujima.
“How’s Robin?” Doujima inquired, leaning over to speak directly into Karasuma’s ear.
“I couldn’t get her to talk. She just kept saying everything was fine when I asked. I gave up and came back,” Karasuma explained, “I really want to know what’s bugging her.” They both looked over at the fire user, sitting placidly at her assigned spot. Her green eyes seemed to be distant and clouded, as if her mind wasn’t even in the same dimension that her body was.
Amon was, despite not seeming interested in Robin’s current emotional state, trying to figure out what he had said wrong. It would not be fortunate on a hunt to have your partner not on speaking terms with you. That turn out to be a potential health hazard if you thought about it; all Robin had to say was she couldn’t find her glasses in time and missed her target. He could be barbeque. Amon a la flambé.
He, after reviewing the conversation at the park, decided that it would be in his best interest to think about it overnight. Perhaps by the next day, Robin would be willing to speak to him and he wouldn’t even have to worry about getting flamed. So, at the end of the workday, he snatched his daughter away from Doujima and her seemingly never-ending pile of outfits and went home.
Author’s Notes: Okay people, I have a few minor problems. First off, I need more reviews to get me motivated. Just a suggestion, though because all my reviews are so great and I cherish each one as a precious gift. ^_^ Next up, my asterisk symbol (you know the one on the eight key) is not longer accepted by ff.net as a symbol. Unless you all can see it and I can’t… but any way, that’s the symbol I use to show action and well it doesn’t work any more. So if you could give me some suggestions on (I’m testing you now to see if you read the AN. If you have please put the word ‘penguin’ in your review) what symbol to use for action. Like, what you may use in your stories or something because it’s really annoying to be looking at my own fic and not see it in it’s full glory.
To the Reviewers:
CuriousDreamWeaver: Yes, causes it’s so very hard to say no to their puppy-dog eyes…
Isis: See, I updated!!! (Though, probably not as fast as you wanted it to be…)
Malster: Hm, what to say what to say?
Wake-Robin: Yup, I think I finally threw in a nice healthy dose of fluff.
Suki1: Eh, a wee bit hyper are we? A good old fashion electric shock will cure you of that in no time flat. (Just kidding)
Konbyashii: I’ve fought off worse than clowns, my doll. Have you ever tried to beat your own mind? Drives one to madness, though I think I’m doing fine. *twitches*
Haruya: Ah, Javan is the ultimate cute child. So obedient yet so out spoken. Plus, she’s got an absolutely gorgeous daddy!!!
Cali1043: Really, was it too much? Like as in too long, or as in the content?
Slysilverinu: I think that Javan could (if I had wanted her to) have gotten them married without the rings. Just find a few pop tops and your good to go! But, alas, that would have completely thrown my plot out of whack and we don’t want that.
Bana: Who told you that? Oh, the fic, hm. That’s gonna be kind of hard to get out of. But yeah, probably. Not saying for sure, but they look so cute together. (Especially since I look a little like Robin. All I have to is lose a few pounds and track down a necklace like hers)
Speaker for Psychopaths: Don’t worry, precious, (everyone is like ‘what’s with the pet names?’ by now) I imagine things all the time. Like today I was sailing the seven seas but my boat capsized and all day I’ve been wondering if I’m dead ‘cause I can’t swim. (Don’t laugh, none of you)
Row: Unfortunately, I didn’t get much of a response of the vampire thing so that’s probably not going to happen. But, I may change my minds yet.
Allhart: The move went great. I’ve even hunted down one of those lovely folding screens…
Jazzywolf: It’s okay, don’t worry.