It was decades ago, perhaps even a century ago. The rain refused to stop.

The storm had raged through the city for days on end. Desperate souls ran through the streets seeking cover, their feet splashing in the thin layer of clouded water that flooded the roads. Those without homes or family found themselves with nowhere to turn to, left to bear the rain that poured down on them mercilessly. The world they found themselves in was not one of charity.

Yet, to an elder's dismay, one homeless child found shelter from the relentless, thundering skies.

That shelter happened to be the elder's own business, a small, quaint bookstore. The last thing the man desired was a boy of the streets scaring away his potential customers with his filth. However, the man also acknowledged the fact that all of his potential customers were likely at home, snuggled up in their wool blankets.

The old man stood behind the counter and huffed, watching the child from a distance. The young boy sat with crossed legs, holed up in the corner of the shop between two large bookshelves. The light was dim, but the boy's dirt-coated face still focused on the book that laid open in his lap. His dark eyes scanned up and down each page at a steady pace, allowing each word to sink deeply into his mind.

The elder took note of the size of the book, as well as the child's small stature. "Hey, kid. What book is that?"

The boy refused to look up from his book. "War and Peace."

"... I'm not a fan of jokes, kid."

"I'm not joking."

"And I'm not a fool. You're lucky I don't throw you out into the rain, the least you could do is be honest."

"I am being honest."

"Clearly you are not. War and Peace is a book far too advanced for a squirt like you to understand or even—"

"'In captivity, in the shed, Pierre has learned, not with his mind, but with his whole being, that man is created for happiness, that happiness is within him, in the satisfying of natural human needs, and that all unhappiness comes not from lack, but from superfluity.'" The boy read aloud, before finally raising his head to peer back at the skeptic. "You know, I find it intriguing. Everyone seems to ponder their existence, or what exactly 'humanity' is. You know, they wonder what it means to be human, or what it means to be happy and content. Then they all draw different conclusions. I wonder what conclusion I'll come to."

The elder was dead silent. His eyesight was poor, though his eyes still narrowed as he attempted to analyze the abnormal child before him. The boy's face was flat, expressionless, as if his own display of intelligence was insignificant and the man's shock was unwarranted. That disposition only furthered his agitation.

"Fine. You're a prodigy. How old even are you? You look like you can't be a day past eight."

"I'm one. Give or take, I'm not too sure." The boy lowered his head, planning to dive back into his world of printed words. The elder, with a low sound of frustration rising from the depths of his throat, growled.

"Excuse me? Didn't just tell you that I am no fan of jokes?"

"I'm not joking." The boy lifted his head again. "Do you mind? I'm reading."

"Do I mind? Yes, I do! I can see that you're reading, boy!" The elder spat. "This isn't a library, you know! You gotta buy the book before you sit down and read the damn thing!"

"We both know I'm broke. So just let me read."

"Why you little—!"

The bell above the door chimed as it opened, interrupting the man's shouts. A short girl, who appeared to be about fifteen, walked in with her footsteps gentle, a striking golden hood draped over her head. Though it was cast in shadow, her face made an immediate impression, being both youthful and fair. Her cheeks blushed a bright red, though she wore a calm countenance.

Her eased posture, her relaxed demeanor, it surrounded her with an air of serenity. The small boy was disinterested, focusing his attention back onto the book. The elder, however, was captured by her deep, bright yellow eyes that seemed to modestly glow in the low light.

"Good evening madam. Don't mind the boy, shoo him away if you must. Look around! See if there is a book to your liking! I could offer a few recommendations if you'd like."

"I have no interest in reading." The girl lowered her hood, revealing her long, silver hair. "I simply wanted to dry off."

The Elder scoffed. "Oh, so you think this is some sort of lounge, too? Are you in cahoots with the brat? Damn loiterers, why they all gotta be pestering me today?"

The old man continued to mumble, his words eventually mixing together and becoming incoherent. He gazed down at his feet, feeling his agitation slowly climb up his spine. When he felt like was about to burst, when he felt that his frustration was about to morph into screams and shouts, he lifted his head to find that the girl's face was mere inches away from his.

Their eyes locked. The girl's unwavering stare made the man feel as if he were being sucked into an endless vacuum. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't look away as she began to speak with a velvety ring in her voice.

"Does my presence trouble you? I would like it if I could simply dry off without your nasty attitude."

The elder gulped, but he didn't move. For a moment, which to him felt like an eternity, they were both dead silent. There was nothing but silence until his body lost its tensions, his shoulders eased and slumped forward. He nodded his head.

"I understand, madam. I apologize. Dry off, take all the time ya need."

"What a good boy you are." The girl patted the old man's head like he was a small toddler. "I hope you don't mind excusing yourself for a bit. I want to have a private discussion with that child right over there."

"... Are you trying to kick me out of my own shop?"

"Oh goodness no, don't take it the wrong way." The girl peered back at the child, too absorbed in the book to realize that her sight had laid upon him. "I just have an important matter to discuss with him."

"What do you have to discuss with a pathetic street child like him?" The elder tapped his fingers on his desk, no tolerance for what he considered nonsense. She returned her focus onto him, as he found himself locked in the gaze of the girl's alluring eyes once again.

"If I wanted you to know, I wouldn't be asking you to leave. Don't worry, our discussion will be rather short. I'm sure you understand. Well, even if you don't, you wouldn't want to disrespect the wishes of a lady, would you?"

The old man took in a giant gulp of air and loudly sighed with defeat. "It'd better be short. You got five minutes, I could only deal with standing in the rain for so long."

The girl nodded her head. "Understood. Please, do get going. Neither of us has all day, I'm sure of that."

"Don't rush me." The elder clicked his tongue and grumbled, shoving his wrinkled hands into the pockets of his apron. With a slouched posture, the man limped his way from behind the counter and to the door. He stepped about, before slamming it closed like an angry child, leaving the girl and the young boy alone.

The boy didn't give her the opportunity to make the first statement, speaking without looking up to meet her gaze. "Do you actually want to talk to me, or did you just want to get rid of the shopkeeper?"

The girl raised both eyebrows, tilting her head as she stepped closer to the boy. "So, you were paying attention. I thought you were all caught up in that book of yours."

"Couldn't help but listen." His eyes remained locked on the book's pages. "I'm impressed you actually got him to leave."

"Persuasion is one of my greatest talents. I also have quite the eye for a person's potential."

"Neat."

"'Neat?' Why yes, it's very, very neat. I could sense weakness, I could sense strength. I could sense what someone is destined to become, to obtain. Do you want to know what I sense in you?"

"Not really."

The boy flipped a page to continue reading. To his displeasure, a hand suddenly gripped onto the edge of the book and pulled it away from his lap. At first, his face simply scrunched up in annoyance, but when he raised his head, he flinched. The girl has crouched down, sitting with her knees up to lower herself to his eye level. She wore a smirk, a knowing, plotting smirk, but the boy couldn't decipher why. He couldn't decipher why she smirked, or why it froze him still. And then there were those golden eyes.

Their magnetism, he didn't know why, but they made him sweat. His breathing grew heavy, causing the girl's smile to fade. She extended her hand, and gently touched his cheek.

"Why so nervous? I simply took your book because you were being a disrespectful young man. I am your senior, you should look me in the eye when I speak with you."

The boy went to smack her hand away, but when he raised his own hand, he found himself hesitating. He couldn't understand why. He couldn't understand why his body was trembling. It was like at the back of his mind, he was screaming at himself to be wary, but why? The girl's face was kind and harmless, but mischievous, her eyes were soft and kind. But magnetic.

His mind was racing, but he managed to spit out a single one worded question. "Senior?"

"Your senior, young spirit."

The boy took in a gasp of air, stunned. He went to speak, but the girl put a finger to his lips.

"How do I know? That's what you were going to ask me, right? As I said, I have an eye for potential. Your potential, it's incredible. I'm a spirit myself, you know. I'm a spirit whose strength lies in the strength of others. And you, you are the same. Your 'psychic connections', they are filled with so much possibility."

The girl's smile returned, beaming bright. The boy narrowed his eyes and slowly shook his head.

"I don't get what you're talking about. What potential? My powers are as basic as they could get. If I get someone to say 'I agree' while shaking their hand, I could read their thoughts. That's it."

"Stupid, stupid boy."

The boy felt his throat constrict. He wanted to lash out, he hated the idea of letting her insults slide, but he still found himself holding back. The girl continued to brush her hand against his cheek, the tips of her fingers ice cold but strangely soothing.

"When you get someone to agree to a psychic connection, you could do much more than peeking into their minds." The girl's tone was gentle. "I could see it, young spirit, I could see all the things you could do if you simply focus and practice. You could see pasts, analyze psyches, extract valuable information. You could manipulate memories, delete them if you so desire. You could shape and remold personalities. Hell, you could turn living people into your personal puppets, all you have to do is make them say two little words while grabbing your hand."

"..." The boy stopped, his eyes finally drifting away from the girl's and back to his lap. "I dunno if I want to do that kind of stuff."

"Silly young spirit." The girl put a finger to the boy's chin and lifted his head to recreate eye contact. "Are you ignoring who you are meant to be? Who you were born to become?"

The boy was silent.

"Do you want to remain a dirty rat, young spirit?" The girl removed her hand from his face and showed him her palm. It was covered in the boy's grime and filth. "Or do you want to become someone powerful, someone who could grasp onto whatever it is they desire? Let me send you down that path, let me look after you. Let me raise you from your dirt, and train you, young spirit."

The boy stared at the girl's palm and the dirt that had once coated his face. She wasn't wrong, he was practically a rat, constantly scavenging for food and shelter. Perhaps he should consider this all, consider become something better. He had no reason to believe the girl was deceiving him, but it was difficult to just spit out an answer.

"What is your name?"

The girl suddenly asked a simple question, or what should be a simple question. The boy was caught off guard, opening his mouth to find no words escaping. He pushed himself back further into his corner.

"What's wrong, young spirit?"

"I don't have one."

"What?"

"I don't have a name."

The boy pressed his lips together, turning his head away from the girl. However, she continued to smile, finding his embarrassment endearing. Yet, her eyebrows still knitted together in a mixture of surprise and confusion.

"You haven't given yourself a name?"

"No."

"Why not? It's not an uncommon thing for spirits to name themselves."

"Did you name yourself?"

"...No. My name was given to me," the girl answered. "It's Aya. It was given to me by an old human woman shortly after my birth."

"That's how it's meant to be. A name is meant to be bestowed upon someone by another, for better or for worse. A name is not meant to be given by one's self." The boy looked back towards Aya. "So, even if I am a spirit, I won't give myself a name. I'll wait."

"Oh. I see." Aya reached forward and patted the boy's head. "Then today is your lucky day. You won't have to wait any longer."

The boy's eyes, which had previously maintained a serious air, grew bright as they widened. He was awestruck, slack-jawed as he leaned closer towards Aya.

"Really?"

"Yes." Aya's dirt covered palm extended out towards the boy once again. "I'll give you a name, but only under one condition. I want you to accept my offer and come with me. Allow me to care for you, and set you down a bright—"

She didn't finish her sentence, abruptly stopping when the boy grabbed hold of her hand. He nodded his head and said one word.

"Yeah."

Aya's cloudy eyes continued to beam as she shook the boy's hand.

"Perfect. Let's go, before the old man returns. You are my little divine gift, filled with so much possibility, I must care for you right away. Let's get you all cleaned up." For a moment, she paused, before saying the one thing the boy truly wanted to hear.

"Theo."

* * *

It was decades after their first meeting, and it was late in the night. Theo, with a book tucked under his arm and a bag stuffed with gold strapped around his shoulder, headed home successful. His own success pained him. He felt like something utterly gross and vile.

He had many regrets, piling on top of one another, beginning the day he first agreed to be trained by Aya. That day, she took him to her apartment, or rather, her penthouse. It was quite spacious, and the boy was immediately awestruck by the decor and furnishing. The entire place showcased wealth, catching him off guard. At first, he kept silent on that matter.

Aya cleaned him, fed him, gave him new clothing that was too large for his small body, but still, he couldn't stop wondering how this spirit has managed to afford such a luxurious living space. When he inevitably caved in to his curiosity, and asked, that's when she finally told him.

His first instinct was to run, but he kept still. He kept still as Aya explained who she really was, and although he was unnerved, he felt like his body could barely move. His mind went blank as she explained herself with ease.

The Gray Promise, a group not well known, but those who knew its name feared it. A mercenary group, comprised of various species of all shapes and sizes. It also had a remarkable, abnormal amount of spirits. They've stolen, they've sabotaged, they've killed, they've done anything and everything as long as you could pay the right price. Aya, the spirit with a gift, the spirit who could sense and understand the powers within others, was their proud leader.

And though she has never directly told him, Theo eventually came to discover she took most of the earnings from missions, reaped through the work of minions under her command, for herself.

Aya offered Theo a permanent room within her home, although it wouldn't be for free. He would work for her. He wanted to reject her, but he faced an intangible mental block, and once again, he accepted her offer. He told himself he was doing it for shelter, that he was simply doing it because he had to. But even then, even on day one, he knew something was off. It was something about Aya, there had to be something wrong. Something he was missing.

Or it was just paranoia.

Nonetheless, he ignored that off-putting feeling for the decades and decades that passed him by. He became exactly what she told him he could be, only to his grief. Yet, he remained by her side, entranced by that sweet voice and misty pair of eyes. Just like yesterday, just like today. Just like today.

He was given a target, like always. This time it was a well-known spirit, one who has gained a reputation for trickery and theft, gleefully swindling cash for herself. Like always, he acted. He behaved like a small innocent child, tricking his target into making a psychic connection. It was the same procedure, get them to say "I accept" while shaking his hand.

Then, like always, he gained control of the strings that now connected them, the strings only he had access to. His puppet's mind went blank, he forced them to sit on their knees silently. He then dove into their mind.

Like always, he wrote down the information on a notepad as he poked and prodded at his puppet's innermost thoughts. The target's strengths, their weakness, when they are most vulnerable, when they are most prepared for a fight. It was all valuable information, exactly what was needed for the request given to Aya.

Like always, he also found extra information in the target's mind. He knew where they hid their valuables, just how many riches they had. It didn't matter to him in the slightest, but Aya always told him to scavenge for any extra prizes he could find. Or rather, she threatened him to scavenge. In the end, it caused him less trouble to simply obey.

So, like always, he swiped the target's gold and released them from his psychic grasp. As they slowly got up with a spinning head, Theo made a quick exit. He felt an overwhelming sense of dread, knowing that the spirit he just met was doomed to die. Too bad their death had a price, a price someone paid. 

With that said and done, Theo headed home with his book, and his bag stuffed with gold. It was a long walk, but he soon found himself at the apartment complex he called home. He stepped into the elevator and pressed the button to the top floor. Once he reached the top and opened the door to the penthouse, a smooth voice greeted him. 

"Ah, Theo. I was worried about you. What took you so long?"

Aya sat in a lounge chair with her legs crossed, reading a fashion magazine. Theo threw his heavy bag onto the table that stood in the middle of the living room, avoiding eye contact with the girl. He didn't address her question.

"The notepad is in the bag, along with all the information you need. I hope whatever hitman you send makes good use of it." Theo's continued to dodge Aya's eyes as he attempted to keep the conversation brief. He scurried towards the hall, planning to hide away in his room.

Aya lowered her magazine onto her lap and folded her arms. "Where do you think you're going?"

Theo stopped right at the hall's entrance, turning his head as he finally looked to her face. She pressed her lips together, before gesturing towards the second lounge chair right beside her.

"Sit," she said.

Theo's forehead creased with annoyance. "Why? I already did what you—"

"I told you to sit."

Aya scowled, a dark shadow cast over her eyes. Theo felt his legs start to tremble, as if they were about to collapse under the pressure of her gaze. He ignored the sensation, stepping away from the hall and seating himself into the lounge chair. The instant he sat down, Aya sprouted up onto her feet. The magazine fell to the floor, though she didn't pay it any attention as she stepped over it.

"You aren't going to like this. You really are not going to like this." Aya began to pace back and forth, putting a finger to her chin. "I thought long and hard about this, though. So don't be such a stubborn brat please."

"I'm not a stubborn brat."

"You say as you pout like a child." Aya rolled her eyes. "Anyways, I've been thinking about how silly our little system is."

"Our system?"

"Yes, our system. You gather information, you come back, you give me the information, then I send someone else to do the deed, and they will need compensation for their work. Doesn't that sound silly to you?"

"No." Theo's hands clenched the armrests as he suppressed the growing tension in his body. He prayed he was wrong about what she was about to say. "It's the system we've been using for decades. It works, doesn't it?"

"I remember you telling me, 'I can never commit a murder.' Do you remember telling me that, Theo?"

Aya stopped in front of Theo, facing him. She looked down at him with those golden eyes, which seemed to glisten brighter and brighter with each passing moment. Theo's grip on the armrests tightened. He knew exactly what she was going to ask.

"...Yeah." He felt himself fall into a trance, staring deeply at her eyes. He then blinked, bringing him back to his senses as he shifted his gaze to the ground. "I mean, yeah. I told you I could never murder anyone, especially not someone I have made a psychic connection with." 

Aya cocked her head to the side. "Why not? If I told you to murder someone, you should just do it."

Theo flinched at her words. "I thought we had an understanding, Aya. When I make a psychic connection with someone, we become, well, connected. I become... empathetic. I begin to care. I gain an understanding—"

"Enough with your excuses!" Within an instant, Aya became unhinged. She grabbed Theo's shirt collar, pulling him off of the chair and letting his feet dangle in the air.

"Aya—"

"Don't Aya me!" Aya snapped. "I don't care what bullshit reasons you give me, you do not realize how useful you could be to me! Why don't you just pop a bullet into your puppet's head once you gain control over them? Do you know how much easier that would make things? How much easier my life would be?"

Theo's legs began to kick as he struggled against Aya's grip. "I don't care about that! I won't do it! Never!"

"Didn't I just tell you not to be a stubborn brat?" Aya threw Theo back into the chair. She leaned forward, hovering mere inches away from the boy's face. "The target I have just given you, she's a fellow spirit, yes? You will be my hitman, you will go do the deed yourself. You will shoot that woman in the head."

Theo pushed himself further back into the chair, trying to distance himself as far from Aya as possible. She only leaned closer as she gripped onto the side of the chair, making it hard for him to breathe. In a desperate attempt to smack her away, he raised his hand and slapped Aya across the cheek.

"I will not! I will not!" Theo began to flail his arms and legs. "Get off me already!"

"...You're going to regret this childish behavior of yours, Theo."

Aya slammed her palms onto the sides of Theo's face. She tightly gripped his head as he winced with discomfort. He stopped struggling as he locked his eyes with hers. He felt pathetic as he felt his eyes well up with hot tears.

"... I don't mean to be so hard on you." Aya's demeanor shifted once again, returning to something more cold and calculated. "I just really think you could be my best asset. Listen to me, I mean you no harm. What I'm doing is in your best interest—"

"It's your eyes."

Aya instantly froze. Her hands slowly slid off of Theo's cheeks and dropped to the ground. "What... do you mean?"

Theo hesitated, biting his lip before bursting out into a rueful laugh. "Oh my god, how did it take me so long to notice! Now of all times, that's just fantastic!"

"Theo—"

"You could see the power in others, yes yes, you could do that! But that's not all, oh no, that's not all!" Theo held onto his stomach as his laughter became uncontrollable. "You control others, too! That's what I was missing! I'm such an idiot! You've been brainwashing me, right? Making me do whatever you want! You call me a puppeteer, Aya, but really, I've just been your puppet all along!" 

As Theo regained control of himself, Aya sat on her knees with a stunned expression. She took a heavy, heavy sigh, hanging her head. Once the boy's laughter stopped completely, she looked up at him yet again, but this time as an equal rather than a pawn.

"My fears were correct. I'm losing my grip on you. Or rather, I've been losing my grip on you, and I've finally lost it." She shook her head. "Usually I would call my ability 'flawless', perfectly reliable. But then there are people like you."

"People like me? You mean people who could see past your bullshit?"

"Yes. People who could figure me out. Usually, it happens much quicker. Perhaps you figured it out merely due to overexposure."

"It doesn't matter how I figured it out. I'm leaving, Aya. I'm done being controlled by you." With both his hands, Theo pushed the girl out of his way as he leaped from the chair. He went to walk right past her, but she latched onto his spiky hair with her hand.

"Are you nuts?! You know the rules, brat!" Aya harshly tugged at his hair, causing him to cry out in pain. "You don't just 'leave', Theo! You only leave the Gray Promise with a knife in your chest or a bullet in your brain!"

"Would you really kill me?!" Theo cried out.

Theo's shout cut straight through Aya's sudden rage. She released his hair, only to grab onto his hand. The boy shuddered at the touch.

"... I couldn't do that to you. I've... raised you. But you have to think about this, Theo! I never told you this, but there is so much more you could do!" Aya grabbed Theo's free hand with her own, her voice hindered by the sound of desperation. "You could bypass your own rules! You won't have to worry about getting anyone to say 'I accept' anymore! You'd just be able to take over anyone's mind, whoever you desire, whenever you wish!"

"Funny you mention that when I'm about to leave." Theo's eyes narrowed at the now desperate spirit. "I'm guessing you never told me this because you didn't want me to look into your own mind, Aya. You never wanted me to be able to control you. No wonder you never agreed to a psychic connection..."

Theo yanked his hands away from Aya's, who was now speechless. She didn't bother to stop the boy from stomping towards the door, ready to exit from the only life he has truly known. She knew Theo, she knew the way he thinks, and she knew he would never even think of coming back no matter what she said.

But she still called out to him once he grabbed onto the doorknob.

"I hope you don't expect to find companionship among spirits. I see your true abilities, I see what you truly are. All spirits will see is someone weak, someone useless. They'll spit on you, Theo. Dismiss you. Laugh at you. Find the wrong one, and they'll kill you."

"I'm fine with that." Theo dismissed the warning as he opened the door. " Anything is better than this."

"One last thing."

Theo turned back to watch Aya stand up. She folded her arms and huffed.

"I can't stop you from leaving. I honestly want to kick your ass, but I know you'll be too stubborn to listen anyway. What I really don't want to do is have you killed, but you will have to cooperate with me on some level for that to be properly avoided."

Aya's tone was stern, making sweat build up on Theo's neck. 

"You could never speak of me, or the Gray Promise, or anything you know about me or the Gray Promise. You know I have access to a lot of things Theo, a lot of dangerous people with useful intel. If I need you found, you will be found. If I need you dead, you will be dead." Aya put a finger to her lips. "But that won't be necessary if you keep your mouth shut, understand?"

Theo felt his arm quivering in fear, but he simply nodded his head. "I understand."

He stepped out, closed the door behind him, and never looked back.

He never ever looked back.