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Summary
Yoru is having another one of her episodes.
A wholly pointless endeavor, you see. Still, for these crucial first few months of life, it would be best to keep their shared daughter fed and content. There was no taming the Dihui Star, nor was it ever their true intent. Like all of the other Nursefathers, she had been tossed here with the landfill for a purpose. A singular purpose.
A purpose that is crying inconsolably in her crib.
“Make her stop,” Yoru says, back turned to him.
Make her stop! Stop what? That white kimono answers nothing. Its blue accents meld into the warm colored background of infinite corridors, giving her an appearance of mist—unfocused, unformed. This illusion, of course, was provoked only by her clothing. She herself was a woman of firm presence.
“Rien, you witless bastard,” she growls, glancing over her shoulder. The veil could not conceal the gleam of red eyes. Then, she repeats emphatically, “Make her stop crying.”
On cue, like raindrops, his god beckons.
Beep.
To Rien:
Obey The Pinky Nursefather Shiomi Yoru's request.
So be it.