-Fyodor Dostoevsky

Necessity was the mother of invention, or so John had heard. Caught in mid-afternoon traffic, only slightly shy of Springfield's rush hour, John found himself plundering his magical arsenal for a way to speed through mundane traffic. Aside from literally destroying the vehicles in his path, he could only find one useful skill… and it was very much a secondary use, but one John couldn't believe he had never thought of.

After the third time he got cut off, John slammed down a Barrier, maximizing the distance it covered and heading for the edge as quickly as he could in the barren alternate version of Springfield. When he reached the eventual edge, the concrete and asphalt of Springfield falling away into infinitely mirrored nothingness, John parked himself on the sidewalk for a brief instant, deactivated the Barrier, and then reactivated it.

Parking on the mostly empty sidewalks meant that he didn't have to worry about moving vehicles plowing into him - whatever the Barrier did, it seemed to deposit him in a location with no other physical objects, either moving him or the pedestrians to avoid direct collisions. Once, he did have a man walk directly into his hood as he reappeared, seeing the man's frightened expression for only an instant before he summoned another Barrier and continued onward.

The stopping and starting was exceptionally frustrating, but John did move considerably faster this way than dealing with the idiots driving about that day, and it meant that he had a bit more time to think rather than focusing on the road. Oddly enough, John's thoughts - after their initial, overwhelming panic - started to drift toward surprisingly lighthearted things.

Like whose hair color the Nekos were more likely to share. Whether them being half-human would affect them, or if these strange magical races had a dominant nature to their genetics. What to name them. That one actually stuck with John - he'd spent so much time training, forging, and enhancing that… in many ways he had forgotten to think of the very mundane things like names.

"Maera and Mithra sound so similar… I know they're twins, but should I keep the trend going? Maybe if I…"

John's thoughts were somewhat coherent but couldn't hold against the flood of adrenaline and ecstasy, overwhelmed and always fluctuating the closer he grew to Brighton Manor. He covered the distance in record time, but from the moment he pulled into the front entrance's wide parking area, it was all John could do not to break into an open and aggressive sprint to the front door.

Multiple faces passed his own on his way into the deeper confines of the Brighton Manor, but none seemed as intense as his. Many peeled away after seeing John's reaction, his intense and almost manic look apparently evident on his face. John heard vague sounds of distress and exertion as he finally approached Tricia's makeshift laboratory, but the words he eventually made out were… nothing like what he was expecting.

"I can't handle this anymore! This is unholy, it's unnatural, it's-"

"It's perfectly natural. Now calm down, and continue to heal her, so that we don't have to worry about-"

"This is not natural, no matter how you describe it in such clinical, unfeeling-"

John threw the door to Tricia's laboratory wide open, casting his half-maddened gaze across the spectacle before him. Moira was shifting uncomfortably around Mithra's upper half, her hand never leaving the Neko's forehead, but clearly overwhelmed by the situation. Maera stood by her twin's side, mewling with affection as she held Mithra's clenching hand and nuzzled deeply into her twin's neck. Seras was sitting at Mithra's waist, reaching out to catch and console the kitten who was halfway freed from Mithra's nethers, her once-massive stomach now slightly deflated. John's anxiety, worry, and heart all melted at once as he took in the sight.

Seras was knelt by Mithra's waist, already prepared and readied to catch the next kitten, but behind Seras… John's words escaped him as he stood shocked at the sight. Three kittens were crawling half-blindly on the ground behind Seras, clawing bluntly at Seras' ankles and the towel that had been laid down for them, one exploring the bars set up as a makeshift baby pen. Tricia's drones flew rapidly and erratically around the pile of otherworldly kittens, scanning them as long as they could before hovering away, observing the needy, mewling Nekos.

"Oh… oh my god… how long has this been going on?" John asked, glancing around. Surprisingly it was Moira who answered - the one least involved in the process, only tapping her fingertips on Mithra's forehead, a golden light surrounding those hesitant digits.

"Since about three minutes before we called you," Moira breathed, trying her best to look away from Seras and the scene before her, but succeeding only in looking at John with an expression that could best be described as 'pleading'.

"Holy shit," John replied, kneeling down by Mithra's side, his hands subconsciously travelling to her brow. Between the deep breaths and obvious pain of her labor, Mithra found the strength to open her eyes long enough to meet John's irises, smirking and mewling softly before her voice erupted again into a cacophony of pain and exertion.

John said nothing else for the entirety of Mithra's labor. He heard the occasional interruption from Tricia, Seras, and Moira - and even Lord Brighton, who showed up after the fifth Neko child was born - but never heard anything worthy of response. All he could do was cup Mithra's palm and alternate between gasping and fighting back tears as each Neko child fell free of her womb, devolving nearly into sobbing by the time the sixth and final child fell free.

"Are you… are you done?"

The words were Moira's, breaking the long silence that had fallen across the room. Though her eyes were locked on Mithra, apparently amazed and shocked by the Neko's reproductive endurance, John found his will to respond before anyone else in that room.

"Only if she says she is. Is there a problem with that?"

"No, no problems, I just…"

Moira glanced down, and for the first time John followed her gaze for more than an instant. Moira's eyes seemed fixated on the latest Neko child to be born from Mithra's stressed nethers. As the new mother breathed heavily but more steadily with each second, recovering some form of her prior poise, the youngling gasped its first breaths. John felt the first tinges of a smile passing across his cheeks as the tiny Neko finally opened up its throat, erupting in a wild cry that was somehow more resilient than her older brothers’ and sisters’.

"Mewl! Mew! Mrow! Myaaa?!"

The Neko was a beautiful thing in its own right, a more perfect child than John had ever imagined, as was each of them. In all his fantasies, in every daydream he'd had, John's creativity had been stifled. He had only ever pictured some things resembling tinier Maera and Mithras, but what he saw in the latest of the newborn Nekos shocked him. Its resemblance was neither to him nor Mithra, but rather…

Seras had glanced at the tiny catgirl for a long time, longer than even John, and she did not set the child down with the rest after wiping her down ever so gently. When she extended her grip at last, she did not set the Neko down as she had the others - instead she proffered the young girl to John, offering him the Neko as if for approval.

John found himself accepting the tiny form of a ruby-haired Neko, her form so frail that John felt as if the slightest movement would break her. The Neko never showed the slightest sign of hesitance or seemed to share his fears as she romped through his grasp, rubbing her fresh nose and silky-soft face against every part of his skin in a way that was so adorable it nearly broke John's soul.

"I just… I didn't think this was so close," John breathed, gasping as he tried to catch his conscious mind up with reality. "I had no idea she would give birth so quickly, I didn't know… I mean… I'm sorry. I didn't want you all to have to deal with this."

"Children are one of the few surprises the Abyss can still give," Lord Brighton said, very slowly taking a seat beside John. One of his massive, plated arms wrapped around the shoulders of the young Gamer, pulling him tightly to Lord Brighton's chest. The bulky man, still clad in his full Order armor, reached out a finger and tickled the redheaded catgirl most recently born from Mithra under her chin, eliciting a squeal somewhere between human and inhuman glee. As Lord Brighton pet the youngest Neko, his smile widened and he continued in a loving tone.

"Don’t be ashamed of them, John Newman. I can see the innocence in their eyes, the drive and desire for learning that I saw so very long ago in my own daughter’s. They are a miracle - a divine gift from the Lady herself."

Moira had seemed uncertain what to think… uncertain, that was, until her father spoke those words. The Warden let herself kneel then, reaching out a hand almost unwillingly, stroking Mithra behind the ears as the Neko relaxed and enjoyed the end of her long struggles, her stress and exertion now gone. John smiled at Moira with tears in his eyes, their gaze meeting for just a moment.

"Now… have you thought of any names?"

Lord Brighton's words were calm but shocking, jarring to John as his gaze travelled back to the older Order warrior. He wasn't sure why - he'd been thinking of names on the way over. But now his mind was so lost in the whirlwind of emotions he'd all but forgotten them.

"It would do you good to have a firm name in mind from birth. We still have no idea whether they're more human or animal, or what urges run their minds. Consistency and discipline are key, regardless. Humans need as much structure and certainty as any pet. Surely you must have thought of something?"

John glanced at the Neko in his grasp, his thumbs unconsciously tickling underneath her chin. In his mind flashed a thousand images - the young catgirl wielding a blade, a shield, a hammer, a spear, a bow, a gun… working as a carpenter, a blacksmith, an electrician, a teacher, a student, a politician… crying, laughing, shouting, screaming…

The possibilities overwhelmed John. More now than ever he felt as if every decision he or his makeshift family made affected every possibility for the young Neko's future. It was all he could do to gently pry her away from his chest, freeing his breastplate from her clutching fingertips. John did his best to secure his footing underneath himself, trying to not seem weak or unsteady as he took the young, redheaded Neko and held her out slightly.

"I've thought a bit about the names. Her mother is Mithra. Her aunt is Maera. I don't have any names in my family that would be honorable. I don't have any legacies or wishes to pass down through their names. They're children of the Abyss, something I only recently discovered, and something I know less about than any of you that I didn't create. I kind of wanted them to start with "M", like their mother and aunt, but I also thought about naming them after important people. After seeing this little beauty, I thought they might both work out…"

John lifted the young catgirl under her shoulders and held her out slightly, offering her to the young Warden, ignoring the confused mewls for just a moment as he tearfully grinned at Moira.

"I was hoping you'd let me name this one Moira."

The Brighton heiress paused, her mouth half opened, half in a scowl and half in something John couldn't fully understand. Whatever she'd been about to say, whatever had been about to overcome her, Moira let the new waves of emotion crash over her as she started to slowly reach out a hand, her gauntlets clattering gently as the Warden started to shake.

"J-John… John Newman, you… you absolute fool…" Moira breathed, her words so quiet that John wasn't sure he heard them at all. A single streak of wetness flowed down her cheek, and then Moira was hesitantly grasping the newly born Neko, lifting her up. Higher and higher, until the newborn catgirl's face hovered high above the rest of them, her surprised but delighted mewls filling the room.

"I will never understand you. I will never see in them what you do," Moira breathed, her eyes meeting the young kitten's for an instant.

"…But I too can see their innocence. They are no monsters, they are no devilish creatures of foul magic. They're cute. They're… fluffy. I never imagined I would say this, John, but I do care for them a little. And… and I…"

Moira sputtered into tears, sobbing as she clutched the tiny kitten to her chest.

"And I will protect this… this newborn Moira as you will. This I swear."