My Adopted Sister is a Demon

Part 2: Rori

Rori.

The girl, Rori, smiled at me. Her teeth were straight and white like pearls. Her eyes were very red, a color that only albino people could have, and they were quite angular in shape.

"She's Asian," I said flatly.

Dad nodded. "Me and Kaya were hoping to find a child of our race, but Rori stuck out like a needle in a haystack. You think she'll fit in nicely here, don't you Ossie? With our weird family of ours?"

Our family's not weird, it's unique, I wanted to say, but I couldn't. I couldn't stop looking at Rori. I couldn't stop studying her black hair that was tied up into pigtails and her round face with those angular red eyes. She was Asian. Definitely Asian. Japanese at the least.

Rori's childish grin faltered. She looked at me the same way I was looking at her. I bet she was studying my short brown hair, my green eyes, and my body that looked neither male or female. Maybe she was debating what sex I was. And there was no way I was going to let her guess other wise.

I took out my hand. "The name's Ossie. Ossie River," I said.

She took my hand and gave it a firm shake. "Rori." Her voice was high, higher than most of the other kids. It sounded like she swallowed a container full of helium. It sounded sort of annoying.

Rori let go of my hand and glanced around the room. It used to be the guest room, and I guess I wasn't surprised that she would be taking it.

Through all this time, the voice in the back of my head continued to speak. She's a demon, she's a demon, it kept chanting. However, I countered it. No, there is no demon. She's just a little girl who's new to the family and who needs my help and support. She is not a demon and she will never be. I continued to counter it until the voice saying that Rori was a demon eventually faded into my subconscious, in which I couldn't hear it any more echoing in my head.

Which was when I noticed Rori standing on her toes to get a closer look at me.

"Your eyes are green," she said. "They're very pretty."

"Thanks."

My eyes. Dad said once that my mom had green eyes, and that I apparently inherited the gene from her. There are no pictures of her anywhere in the house, and I was too young to remember her face when I was small, but I do remember one thing. She shone. Not like light bulb-shining, but more like she literally emitted something that made her look like she was glowing. Now, I've had enough epidemics with reality to know that magic and creatures like demons and angels don't exist, and so I always knew that she couldn't be magical. And if she was than that would mean I would be, right? If Magic was real, which it isn't, there might not be any clear rules to how someone's descendant could inherit magical abilities. But if could just all depend. In all of the fantasy books I've read, it never clearly did state that magic runs in families, but more like magic can be used by anyone that is capable of learning and understanding how magic flows and works and stuff. The stories also accumulated green with being a 'color' of magic, which was a thing. And my eyes are green, so that could mean something.

"How old are you?" Rori asked.

"14."

"Oh." Oddly, she sounded quite relieved that I was older than her. Or close enough to the same age she was.

"You?" I shot back.

She smiled. "I just turned 10."

Just? I wondered. I would've thought that my parents were smart enough to bring her home before the girl's birthday, but I guess beggars can't be choosers.