He was too busy holding his head between his hands and squeezing his eyes shut, no doubt awaiting the fatal blow that would never arrive. When he realized that nothing had hurt him, his eyes cracked open and she caught sight of a dark, coal- black iris. His features were slightly slanted in a characteristic manner; one of his parents must have been Asian.

The little human gulped, and apparently tried to make himself melt into the walls of the oven. He did not succeed.

“…W-who are you?”

Speaking. Did she remember how to do it?

“What’s your name?”

Surprising even herself, she got down on one knee and looked at the cramped oven and let her gaze explore the boy’s features.

“Beatrice.”

Hm. Her voice – it still worked. Interesting.

“Hi. Um, I’m Kei.”

She held out a hand in a fingerless glove, and he started at the movement. He looked at the limb, and the person it was attached to. Finally, he reached forward and grasped it, reminding her that yes, it had been long since she had held a warm hand.