Chapter Text
The first time Death saw Samira Mohan, the girl was seven years old and was about to be run over by a truck, trying to save a black cat in the middle of the crosswalk. Death heard Samira's mother scream the girl's name and saw Samira’s father run toward the little girl to grab and drag her to the safety of the sidewalk.
But Vanan Mohan was too slow. He wasn’t going to make it.
And that, for some reason, bothered Death.
Maybe it was the fact that little Samira didn’t care about getting hurt, only about saving an innocent life. Or maybe it was that, when the kid saw the truck, she wrapped her body around the cat to protect it. As if that would work. Whatever was the reason, it made Death act. So he snapped his fingers, and time slowed.
Then, Death stepped forward and moved the little girl closer to the sidewalk, guiding her small body out of the truck’s path. He reached toward Vanan Mohan and extended the man’s arm just enough for his hand to catch the pink hood of Samira’s raincoat. Finally, Death walked toward the truck, placed a hand over the radiator grille, and pushed. The vehicle rolled back some meters under the force.
Satisfied with himself, Death walked to the other side of the street and snapped his fingers again. Time resumed and Death watched when, both the father and daughter, fell backward onto the sidewalk from the force of the pull. Before little Samira could recover, her mother rushed forward, yanked her off her father’s chest, and dragged her toward a nearby bench. The black cat followed close behind, tail low but determined.
“What were you thinking!” Diyana Mohan snapped. “You crossed in green! Are you stupid or what!”
“He was going to die!” Samira whimpered, pointing at the cat.
“And you too, idiot!”
Samira’s eyes filled with tears, her lips trembling as a sob threatened to break free.
Vanan stepped in.
“That’s enough,” he said directly to his wife.
Diyana looked ready to argue, but Vanan ignored her. Instead, he crouched down in front of his daughter, his expression softening.
“You were very brave, my sun,” he said gently. “But never do that again. Promise me.”
“I promise, appa,” she sniffled.
“No need to cry now” he added, brushing a tear from her cheek. "What do you say we get some ice cream to lift our spirits?”
“Vanan!" Diyana began, frustration clear in her voice. At the same time, little Samira shook her head stubbornly.
“I don’t want ice cream.”
“Then what do you want, my sun?”
She hesitated only a second before asking, then dropped the bomb.
“Can we adopt Mr. Whiskers?”
Death, watching from afar, couldn’t help but laugh.
What a clever little thing she was.
“Absolutely not!” Diyana replied immediately.
“But he needs a home!” Samira whined, her voice cracking as tears welled up again.
Vanan sighed, already knowing he had lost this battle. He stood, walked over, and picked up the black cat, who offered no resistance, before carrying it back to little Samira.
“Vanan, stop being so indulgent with her!”
“I think it would be good for her.” Vanam said calmly.
“Idiotic man. You’re going to regret this,” Diyana muttered, turning sharply and walking away.
Vanan looked back at his daughter, holding the cat out to her.
“You have to take care of him. Do you hear me, princess?”
“Yes, appa.”
“Alright then,” he said with a small smile. “Let’s take Mr. Whiskers home.”
Death smiled at the sight of little Samira hugging the black cat again as she walked alongside her father. He wondered, for the first time in centuries, what would become of that selfless human being when a few years passed.
Would pink still be her favorite color in high school?
Would the relationship with her mother improve over the years?
Would little Samira study to become a veterinarian?
Death couldn’t wait to find out the answers.
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