Dayton: The Junior Guardian Chronicles: Episode 75

Dayton waited until the water stopped moving. 

Not because she was being soft. Because she was being careful. 

When Ezra finally climbed out and stood on the porcelain slope, slick and smaller than he should ever be, Dayton lowered her hand into the sink without a word. Palm up. A platform. An offer that was also an expectation. 

Ezra hesitated, then stepped on. 

Dayton lifted him out with the same controlled steadiness she’d used all day, like she was carrying something fragile that still might bite. She set him on the counter for half a second, grabbed a corner of a clean washcloth, and gently dabbed him dry. Not babying. Not rough. Just… correct. The way her training manual would’ve wanted. 

Ezra’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t pull away. 

“Okay,” Dayton said, mostly to herself, as she wrapped the cloth around him like a small towel cape. “We’re done with bathroom world.” 

She offered her shoulder. “Switch.” 

Ezra looked up at her face like he was trying to find the trick. Then he stepped onto her palm, and she transferred him to her shoulder with a smoothness that would’ve made Sara Reeves proud. Dayton adjusted her posture automatically, keeping him steady as she left the bathroom. 

The hallway outside was dim, the house quiet in that late night way where every sound feels like it belongs to someone else. The living room TV murmured faintly, her mom’s show still going in the background. Dayton didn’t turn her head toward it. She just walked. 

Ezra watched the world pass at shoulder height. From here, the house looked almost normal. Not small, not safe, but… survivable. 

Dayton slowed as she reached her bedroom door. She paused, hand on the knob, like she was deciding how to say something without making it sound like she was asking permission. 

When she spoke, her voice came out smaller than her usual swagger. 

“So,” she said. “Here’s the thing.” 

Ezra didn’t answer. He stayed quiet, listening, which was new. 

Dayton nudged the door open with her hip and stepped inside. The room looked the same as it had that morning, but it didn’t feel the same. Her bed. Her desk. Her posters. Her life. And now, him. 

She walked to the bed and lowered her hand. “Switch,” she said again, softer. 

Ezra stepped down onto her palm, then onto the comforter. The down sank under his feet like snow, swallowing him a little. Dayton watched him steady himself. 

Then she sat on the edge of the bed, knees bouncing once, like she had nervous energy she didn’t want to admit to. 

“Okay,” Dayton said, exhaling through her nose. “I’m just gonna say it straight.” 

Ezra looked up. 

Dayton met his eyes and didn’t flinch. 

“Now that you’re my little,” she said, “you’re… on Team Dayton.” 

Ezra’s expression tightened. “Is that supposed to be comforting.” 

“It’s supposed to be true,” Dayton shot back automatically, then caught herself and lowered her voice. “Like… I’m not saying we’re best friends. I’m not saying we’re doing movie montage bonding or whatever.” 

She rubbed her thumb along the seam of her pajama pants, eyes flicking away for half a second before returning. “I’m saying I’m gonna take care of you. For real. I’m gonna protect you and watch over you and do it the right way.” 

Ezra stared like he was trying to find the angle. The threat. The trick. 

Dayton rolled her eyes, bristling. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not my mom. I’m not the district.” 

A tiny pause. 

“And this doesn’t have to be a fight,” she added, quieter. “It can be… a reset.” 

Ezra’s voice came low. “A reset.” 

“Yeah,” Dayton said, and the word came out like she was forcing it to be simple. “Like, we already did the worst part. We already did the screaming in your head part. We already said stuff out loud that was… gross.” 

She swallowed. “So now we do the part where we figure it out.” 

Ezra’s gaze dropped to the comforter, to the tiny dents his feet had made earlier. “You can’t reset something like this,” he said. “Not with a speech.” 

Dayton’s cheeks flushed, and she hated that it happened. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. 

“I’m not doing a speech,” she said, annoyed. “I’m doing… terms and conditions.” 

Ezra’s mouth twitched once, almost a smile, then disappeared like it had never existed. 

Dayton saw it anyway. 

“You don’t have to like me,” she said. “You don’t have to forgive me. You don’t even have to talk to me unless you need something.” 

She pointed toward his habitat, sitting on her dresser like a quiet, waiting fact. It looked neat. Prepared. Like a tiny apartment in a box. 

“But you do have to understand this,” Dayton said. “I’m not letting you get hurt. Not by my mom. Not by SEA. Not by anyone. If you’re in my house, you’re mine to protect.” 

Ezra looked up again. “That’s still ownership,” he said. 

Dayton nodded once. No dodge. 

“I know,” she said. “And I’m not gonna pretend it’s not. But I’m also not gonna be the kind of guardian who acts like you’re not a little who deserves some respect.” 

She tilted her head, eyes sharp again, but not cruel. “You can hate the system all you want. It’s not changing tomorrow. So, the best I can do is… not make it worse.” 

Ezra’s throat worked. 

“And you,” Dayton added, voice firm now, “can stop trying to turn every decent thing I do into manipulation. Sometimes it’s just me doing what I’m supposed to do.” 

A second passed. 

“And maybe,” she said, softer, “what I want to do.” 

The room went quiet. The only sound was the faint hum of her laptop fan and the faraway TV. Dayton’s phone buzzed once on the bed, a Discord notification, but she ignored it. 

Ezra looked around her room, taking it in like it was his new border. His new world. 

“You’re asking me to cooperate,” he said at last. 

“I’m telling you it’ll be easier if you do,” Dayton replied, then grimaced because it came out too harsh. She tried again, more honest. “I’m asking because… I don’t want to do this angry.” 

Ezra breathed out slowly, shoulders lifting and falling. When he spoke, his voice was quieter, more tired than defiant. 

“And what happens if I don’t cooperate.” 

Dayton didn’t smile. She didn’t gloat. She just answered like it was a rule she’d memorized. 

“Then we still do the routine,” she said. “Food. Water. Safety. Habitat. You still get cared for.” 

She met his gaze. “I’m not gonna punish you for being mad. I get it.” 

Ezra’s eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger, but in scrutiny. “You get it.” 

Dayton’s mouth tightened. “I get… enough.” 

She stood, then reached out and tapped the top of the habitat lightly with one finger. “This is yours. Door stays latched at night. Not because I don’t trust you.” She paused. “Okay, also because I don’t trust you. But mostly because I don’t trust the floor and potential predators.” 

Ezra huffed a tiny sound that might’ve been a laugh if he’d been bigger. 

Dayton pretended she didn’t notice. 

She gently scooped him up again and carried him to the habitat. She set him down inside, near the little bed and the water dispenser, then closed the latch with a soft click. 

The click felt final. 

Dayton rested her forehead against the acrylic for a second, eyes closed, like she was grounding herself. 

Then she straightened. 

“Okay,” she said, voice back to normal. “You’re safe. You’re clean. You’re fed. We’re not fighting right now.” 

She glanced at him through the clear wall. 

“And tomorrow,” Dayton added, “we do it again. But calmer.” 

Ezra stood still inside the habitat, small hands at his sides, watching her like she was both captor and shelter. 

Dayton backed toward her bed, then paused at the foot of it, like a last thought caught her. 

“Oh,” she said, almost casually. “And Ezra?” 

He looked up. 

Dayton’s expression was serious again, not playful. 

“You’re on Team Dayton,” she repeated. “So don’t make me look stupid.” 

Ezra stared at her for a beat. 

Then, quietly, he said, “That may be the first rule you’ve given me that makes any sense.” 

Dayton’s mouth tugged, almost a smile. 

“Good,” she said. “Get some sleep.” 

She turned off her lamp, leaving only the soft glow of the hallway and the faint light from the habitat’s warm strip. 

The room settled. 

And for the first time since the day had started, the war inside it went silent, not because it was over, but because both sides were exhausted enough to stop shooting. 

Outside, New York kept being New York. Sirens in the far distance. A car horn. Someone laughing on the sidewalk. 

Inside, a girl lay down in her bed and stared at the ceiling, and a tiny man stood in a habitat and listened to her breathing. 

Not friends. 

Not yet. 

But alive. 

And, for now, steady. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is the end of the season for the Dayton series.  There will be a week or two break between now and the next season so i can get a mental health break as its quite busy between work and making content 5 days a week.  Then we will reutrn with either Madison’s World or one of the new stories I’ve been wanting to write.  But i’m undecided about which to do. 

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