Green Tea

--- “Operation: Wedding-Peace” The morning in the Forger household began with suspicious silence. “That’s odd,” muttered Loid, peeking out of the bathroom with a toothbrush in his mouth. “By now, Anya is usually demanding pancakes, showing off her new ‘Ara-Chop Combat Move’, or building something out of pots and pans.” Yor peeked out of the kitchen, a chef's scarf tied around her head. Whisk in hand, face dusted with flour. “Maybe she’s… still asleep?” “Too suspicious,” Loid thought. He was about to check the kid’s room when something crashed in the hallway. “MY GREAT DRESS FELL DOWN!” came a desperate cry from Anya’s room. Yor and Loid exchanged looks. “I’m going in.” --- Meanwhile, chaos reigned in the kid’s room. The floor was covered in sheets, curtains, shoelaces, scraps of paper, plush animals—and a mission. In the middle of it stood Anya, wearing a white nightgown with a tablecloth tied over it like a cape, fastened with a bathrobe belt. “Papa! Mama! Today is a big day!” she declared, raising her hand with solemnity. “You’re getting married.” Loid leaned his forehead against the doorframe. Yor blushed to the tips of her ears. “A wedding?” he asked cautiously. “Yes!” Anya nodded with the seriousness of a general. “It’s not real! But also… not pretend! It’s a very important psychological ceremony for family bonding! I read about it in a book called Family Rituals.” “Where did you get that?” asked Loid. “I borrowed it from the neighbors. They were using it to prop up a shelf, but I rescued it!” Yor smiled. “Well… that’s kind of sweet?” “It’s dangerous,” whispered Loid. “If anyone finds out I participated in a mock wedding with a hired assassin for the sake of my ‘adopted daughter,’ I’m done.” “I hear fear in Papa’s voice!” said Anya, pointing at him. “That means we have to wedding even harder!” --- “We have exactly three hours to prepare,” Anya announced, placing a stool on the floor and climbing onto it. In her hands—a notebook titled: “OPERATION: WEDDING-PEACE” “Papa, you’ll wear a suit.” “But I have a mission—” Loid tried to protest. “Peace is more important!” Anya snapped, pointing to her penguin already dressed in a tie. “Penguin confirms.” Yor, glowing, nodded. “I have a white dress. There’s a borscht stain… but I’ll cover it with flour.” “You already tried that,” Loid said grimly. “You stained the ambassador and almost started a war.” Anya jotted everything down: Suit ✔️ Dress ✔️ Music ❌ Guests ❌ Bond — security ✔️ Rings… ❌ “We can make the rings out of foil!” she shouted, dashing to the kitchen, tripping along the way, but popping back up cheerfully, tissue in hand. --- The Rehearsal Begins Yor stood by the wall, trying not to trip on her hem. Loid wore a blazer he hadn’t used since dinner with General Vostalta. Anya walked around them, explaining: “You walk… like this. Slowly. Pretty music, like… ta-ra-ta-taaam, ta-ra-ta-taaam... Then you hold hands…” Yor reached out. Loid sighed and took it. And for a moment—everything stopped. Hand in hand. Eyes meeting—just for a second. Anya fell silent. Even Bond stopped scratching himself. “Uff…” Yor looked away quickly. “Time… for the penguin.” --- The penguin, standing on a box, looked at them like: I’ve been officiating weddings since 2007. Anya placed the Chimichimi doll beside Yor. “Maid of honor. Bond is security. Penguin is the priest. And Arachis lies in the center, as a symbol of marriage.” “What the…” Loid eyed the plush peanut Anya had placed on a pillow. “He’s sweet and strong, like love!” she said proudly. Yor nervously fixed her hair. “I’m… actually kind of nervous. Even if it’s just a game…” “It’s not a game, Mama. It’s the future,” said Anya so seriously that Loid once again wondered if she was secretly an agent. --- One Hour Before the Ceremony The apartment smelled like vanilla (Yor found a scented candle), Bond napped in a corner, Loid was in a perfectly pressed suit, and Yor stepped out in a white dress… even if the hem was dusted with flour. Loid froze. “You… look nice.” “Thank you…” Yor smiled softly, her eyes misty. Anya squeaked: “YOU’RE STANDING WRONG FOR A WEDDING! CLOSER!!! TOUCH SHOULDERS!!! ENOUGH SIDE-GLANCING!” --- At this point, Anya turned off the lights. The room glowed only from the candlelight. The penguin stood proudly. Everything was ready. The room went still. Only the candle’s flicker lit Loid’s glasses and the foil rings Anya had made. “I… will begin now,” Anya whispered, holding the penguin. “I officiate this ceremony… on behalf of the Penguinistic Republic of Family and Harmony.” “Is that a real country?” Loid asked. “Yes. I made it up last night,” Anya replied proudly. Penguin raised high, she spoke with mock seriousness: “We are gathered here today to unite… Papa and Mama… in a battle alliance. Based on love, respect, and tea. Lots of tea. Without wasabi.” Yor giggled softly. Loid looked away, but the corners of his mouth twitched. “Say your vows!” Anya commanded. “Papa, do you promise to protect Mama even if there’s a glove floating in her soup?” “Um… yes,” Loid smirked. “Even if the soup’s made of five hot sauces and toothpaste.” “And Mama!” Anya turned to Yor. “Do you promise to protect Papa even if he forgets the wedding day?” “Oh… I… yes. I’ll take care of him. Always,” Yor smiled a little warmer than usual. “Even if he forgets not just the wedding day, but lunch too.” Loid slowly turned to her. And for a moment, everything else disappeared—even Anya. Just the two of them. Looking at each other. Awkward. But real. Anya: “Now… THE RINGS!” She produced the foil rings—one slightly crumpled but still shiny. Loid took a ring and slowly slid it onto Yor’s finger. Yor, still looking down, did the same. No one spoke, but both of them blushed. “NOW YOU’RE A REAL FAMILY!” Anya shouted, hugging them both at once. “Uh…” Loid began. “What about… the kiss?” “ON THE CHEEK IS FINE! DON’T BE SHY!” Anya yelled, still clinging to them. Yor, suddenly brave, gently kissed Loid’s cheek. Loid didn’t react at first. He just… froze. “I… thank you for the ceremony,” he said, looking dazed. --- Later, when the candles had burned low, the toys were back in their places, and Anya was snoring, hugging the penguin, Loid stood by the window with Yor beside him. “That was sweet,” she said. “Yeah…” he looked at her. “You know… maybe we could… have a real one. One day.” Yor raised her eyebrows. “A real one?” Loid quickly corrected himself: “Well… if needed. For the mission. Or… for Anya.” Yor smiled gently. “For her—yes. Always.” --- The next morning at school: “Did you hear? Forger married her parents!” “What?! Her real ones?” “There was a Penguin Priest!” “And Damian turned red and buried his face in his notebook!” ---