No-Name needed a moment to register and when she did, she regretted it.

“You are… you can’t…” Naked fear rose like the tide, engulfing whatever steadiness she had managed to build. Father was strong and tall and angry and hateful. He wasn’t crooked and sad and alone like that wreck slumping before her. He didn’t say sorry!

“You can’t just…”

She was lost in the stormy sea. Memories assaulted her, and she didn’t know if the Father she saw in them was good or bad, a tyrant or a parent. How was that fair? Why couldn’t she even be sure of herself?

Bile clogged her throat and before she knew she was screaming.

“You can’t say that you’re sorry! It‘s not fair!” She bellowed. She hated the stark terror in her voice, but couldn’t find the strength to care.

He didn’t answer. Instead he dared to remain like that, bowed and repentant.

Anger surged and the pain of the wounds became nothing. In the blink of an eye she was on him, scratching, biting, kicking.

“You can’t!” She screamed. “You can’t! You can’t! You can’t!” Again and again, she screamed because there was no word to truly say all the things that threatened to burst through her chest.

She would be overjoyed if he fought back, if he talked, something! But he didn’t even give her the satisfaction, taking everything she handed, barely flinching, with not even a sound.

In the end, the tide was exhausted and she found herself sobbing against him, alone and empty and miserable.

“I felt strong when i hated you!” She wheezed. “Even that you want to take away from me. It wasn’t enough to leave me! It wasn’t enough!”

She weakly beat little fists against his chest and Gorren let her. The scratches pockmarking his skin stung, but they were nothing before the guilt piercing his heart.

“I am sorry.”

What else could he say?

She trembled in his arms and not knowing how to hold her only added to what he already felt.

“It’s not fair.” She squeaked.

“I know.” He murmured.

“You left me.”

“I did.”

“You abandoned me.”

“Yes.”

“And now what?”

“…i am sorry.”

Her glistening eyes almost glowed with furious despair when she turned them upon him.

“Stop saying that! You’re not Argus!” She slumped, her forces leaving her. Despite everything, she enjoyed him being close to her and hated that it was so. “I won’t forgive you…” She whispered.

“You don’t need to.”

“I can’t! I just can’t!”

“You don’t need to.”

“You don’t know what it was like…”

“I do.”

There was the deepest understanding in those simple words, but she couldn’t aknowledging it, she refused to.

“And what then? What do you want from me? What should i do?” She couldn’t keep despair from ringing in that question.

She breathed in at seeing the deep, endless sadness in Father’s gaze.

“I want you to be happy.”

She wanted to say “you should have thought about that before”, but that traitorous part of her, that small, stupid part that still dared to hope despite everything, checked her, like a little vice around her heart.

She hid her face against his chest, because she was just going to accept it all if she didn’t.

“I won’t.” She squeaked and by this point she didn‘t know what she was answering to. “It’s not fair.”

She could hear his breath, hear his thumping heart. She realized with dismay that it was the first time she had been this close to Father.

“You… you don’t have to.” He grumbled. “My mistake is unforgivable. I don’t ask that you forget it.” No-Name hadn’t heard many voices in her short life, but Father’s was by far the saddest. “I just ask you that you let me a chance to do good by you. I… i am not a good father, i reckon i never will, but i will do my best to make you happy.”

It was too much, too much all at once. Her head was pounding.

Her eyes prickled something fierce. She hated it, but couldn’t stop the tears from running.

“You abandoned me.” She sobbed.

“Yes.” Father’s hand on her shoulder was the slightest touch.

“You left me.”

“I did.”

“Do you…” She struggled to choke out those words. “Do you promise you will never, ever, do it again? That you will never leave me again?”

His fingers on his shoulder gave the slightest clench.

“Never.”

The conviction, the invincible, unshakeable conviction of that single word. No-Name swallowed. She wanted more, she needed more, She racked the fount of strange knowledge and images that billowed in her brain for solutions.

“Here!” She said, pointing her pinkie against his surprised face like it was a weapon. “Promise! Do it!”

Father’s surprise turned to a slight frown. “How do you…” He paused. The solemnity taking hold of his features made No-Name felt very silly. Still, he raised his own pinky to cross with her own.

She almost winced at how cold Father’s hand felt, but then steadied herself. This was important!

“Promise?” She asked.

“Promise,” Gorren replied.

For a moment, alone with the person that she had hated and loved more than anything in her brief life, she could almost believe it.

The mattress felt heavenly as she sank into it. Father didn’t get up yet, watching her with a weary focus.

“Father?” She asked, too exhausted to feel anything else anymore. Sleep was already rising to clutch her. “Will you give me a name?” She had been thinking about it since Argus mentioned it.

Gorren tucked her in, nodding with the dimmest glint of softness. “When you wake up, you will have the best name i can think of.”

She wanted to mumble a thanks, but didn’t know if it was the right thing to say. Before she could decide, she was already asleep, her cheeks stained with tears.

Gorren daintily wiped them off with his thumb, before staggering to his feet.

The door gave a soft click as he carefully closed it behind himself. Whatever tense energy sustaining him waned at that moment, and he slumped down.

Nama was there, a shadow amidst shadows.

“I am not cut to be a father.” He said. Was that exhaustion normal? He felt like a pack of angry vagrants had beaten him black and blue. And it wasn’t like he had done anything more than just sitting and talking.

“There are those, yes.” The Goddess agreed good-naturedly. “Good job. I almost thought you didn’t have it in you.”

Gorren rested the back of his head against the door. He lacked even the strength to be outraged. That damned phantom really had her nose in too many of his personal business.

“Did you ever hear about privacy?” He grumbled, giving voice at his thoughts but without really feeling it.

The dark figure gave a minute shrug. It really was her signature tic, it seemed. Gorren decided it suited her. Damn expressionless mask.

“You’re welcome.”

“Of what?” The cool surface of the door felt good against the tired emptiness in his chest. “Did something really change?” The uncertainty was a hard pill to swallow, and so was being forced to ask, but in that moment he couldn’t bring himself to care. His scratches prickled something fierce.

“Of course.” Nama said. “You bought yourself a chance with her. It changes everything, don’t you think?”

Gorren felt sarcasm well up, unsure if it was aimed at the Goddess’ sudden soft tone or that small hope. But hope was cruel, and so he couldn’t just dismiss it.

“I don’t know if i can.” He murmured. “I don’t know if i am good enough.”

“Hey now. Is that doubt i am hearing? From the great and mighty Gorren An-Tudok?”

Gorren didn’t answer. He surely wasn’t feeling great and mighty right now.

“You know how this works.” Nama continued smoothly. “You try. If you succeed, good job. If you fail…” Another shrug.

Gorren mustered a glare. “I fucking hate you.”

“Everybody does.” She said cheerfully. She tapped her staff against his leg, not without a smidge of irony. “So, what will it be, big man?”

He sighed. His finger prickled where it had been touching her daughter’s - the word felt like a stone lodged where his heart was supposed to be -, and it wasn’t about any scratch this time. What other choice there could be?

“I’ll do my best.” He said. “I’ll try to be as good as a father i can be.”

“Good enough.”

Gorren half-expected for something to happen. Even his experiments usually ended in some conclusive way, be it a marvelous new insight in the dimensional barriers or a necrophage infestation in the arm. It made sense for that life-changing decision to be underlined by something just as grand, a peal of thunder in the distance, maybe, or a small earthquake.

But nope, all he got was a smarmy Death Goddess clapping politely. He wasn’t sure if being impressed or just annoyed.

He shook his head. Life is like a thief in the night. It sneaks on you when you’re not looking. Without fanfare, day after day.

It didn’t matter. What it did was the clump of determination lodged in his chest. Gods, he wanted this. How he wanted it. For a chance, to succeed. There and then, he swore to himself that he wouldn’t squander it. He would be a good father to those two kids, no matter what storm came, no matter if the sky crumbled, no matter what.

There was selfishness there, he knew, but couldn’t bring himself to care, not there not now.

All of you that are dead, i am not trying to replace you. I will never forget you. I just want this. I just need this.

He sighed, half-hoping that the dead hadn‘t been listening and the remaining half that they were. What a mess.

He paused, remembering something.

The question was out just as he realized that Nama might well be already gone. She wasn’t, waiting patiently in the shadows.

Gorren didn’t miss the feeling of anticipation emanating from her. For what had to be the hundrenth time, he wondered what her angle was about this.

“I want to ask you something.” He began calmly.

The Goddess gestured for him to go on.

“My daughter knew things she shouldn’t have been able to.” He stated.

“And?”

Gorren bared his teeth. “What have you done with that rite of yours?”

Even he knew that trying to stare down the Goddess of Death wasn’t the smartest of ideas, but this was about his children - the word was still enough to send a thrill down his spine -. He would stare down even worse for them. And, well, after all the shit she had been giving him, it was just poetic justice.

Unfazed, Nama hummed thoughtfully. As always, she moved at her own pace “Nah, it wasn‘t that” she said. “They are your children, aren’t they? It’s only natural that they inherit something.”

Gorren frowned. “My own memories?”

“Their coming to life wasn‘t normal, for neither of the two.” Nama punctuated her explanation with a small shrug.

Gorren repressed the need to chew on his lip. As much as something else being able to access his memories was deeply offending, his primary concern was toward something else.

“How much?” He asked, and couldn’t keep urgency from filtering out.

Nama touched the side of her mask with a long finger, a gesture that he had learned to be the same as a man scratching his chin. On her, even such a human gesture became eerie.

“Dunno.” She said in a mildly disinterested tone. “Could be much, could be little. You can never be sure about these things.”

Gorren thinned his lips into a line. That wasn’t good enough, not of a long shot.

An old image passed him by, a grassland under a full moon. He banished it away before it could summon more of itself.

He took a decision.

“They won’t need it.” He declared. “I will erase it all.”

“You sure?” Nama teased him. “That sounds a lot like taking away their birthright.”

Gorren snorted at the notion. “Nonsense.” He swept with his hand in a decisive motion. “I won’t have my children risk to bear my own weights. No matter if the chance is small, i will erase it. You told me to be a good father, haven’t you? Well, this is the best i can ever think of for them. They will not suffer my own memories.”

Nama stood unfazed under his intense stare for a moment, before nodding.

“Sounds fair.”

Gorren’s eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t asking.”

She chuckled. “You’re starting to get back on your feet.”

Not really. Laying there for a spell sounded like a pretty good idea to him, but he wasn’t going to tell her that.

“Be happy!” She said, giving him another thump with her staff. “You did great!”

Gorren swatted wearily at her. “I am happy. Why, can’t you see it? I practically burst with excitement.”

She chuckled, earning a flat look.

“You should though. This might be a new beginning.”

He wasn’t unsure if she was mocking him or really being encouraging. With her, it could easily be one or the other; or both; or neither. Still, the words stuck.

A new beginning. How would i love that.

Ah, he almost forgot. He needed to think about a name for her. It was high time for that. Also, he had been neglecting poor Argus in all this mess. He would need to amend, and make sure that the sleeping draught wasn’t too strong. Ah, this was what happened when he did things too hastily.

What else there was? Ah, right, his books. He had forgotten them in the room. But first, he needed to prepare for the memory wipe process. Here something he did happily and without doubts. Bad memories should remain just that, and die with the one that carried them. Then, the stuff back in Blackstone. How long since he had shown up? And his experiments, of course. He couldn’t neglect those. Ah, also his training. He needed to start arranging things for that. There was a lot of stuff to do. A lot…

In the end, he dozed off there, sitting on the floor, with his back against the door of the room where his two children slept.

Nama chuckled a bit at seeing him like this, then disappeared, letting him to his rest.