Sunday, July 16, 2006

Kentei got up off the sofa, his shirt clinging to his skin. He started off down the wood-planked hall, his feet making quite a bit of noise for bare feet. The quiet girl understood, and followed the boy.

Good Lord, are we going to have to pass the idiots upstairs? It had just occured to Kikan that maybe her room wasn't on the first floor. And sure enough, Mr. Surly went up the flight of stairs next to the kitchen. "Child's Play" glinted in the light from a nearby window, seeming to say that anyone stupid enough to try anything could try the tip of her blade through their kidney.

Halfway up the stairs however, Kentei stopped his little silent tour. Hardly missing a step, Kikan stopped as well. His shaggy-haired head turned around, half-lidded eyes on her.

"....What do you want?" Hands tightened on the hilt of "Child's Play", arms over her head.

He stratched his head slowly, almost as if he forgot what he wanted to ask. Then he stopped suddenly. "Oh yeah." His dark eyes narrowed, almost critisizing her. "Why are you so quiet?"

"Hmmm?"

"You're so...." He twisted his hands around to express his point, "wound-up. Silent. Cautious. WAY TOO MUCH LIKE A FRIGGIN' MUMMY."

Seeing as his accusations were hardly registering with her and that they hardly made sense, Kikan didn't care much. "So what if I am?"

He sighed, closing his eyes and throwing his head back a little. "Man, this is totally messing with my style." Kentei took a step forward, a little too close to Kikan for her liking. One tanned hand went up, and nearly brushed her shoulder. She slapped the hand away due to instinct, instincts that she had learned growing up.

"Whoa, little lady." Rubbing his hand, he looked at her strangely. "Now, what's with that, eh?"

Kikan decided that she'd rather take her chances with the drunks now, and briskly walked past him, up the stairs. As soon as she got beyond him, she allowed her face to heat up. When was the last time that had happened, this....embarassment? Oh yes, when she started screaming that her mother pick her up while they were in the supermarket. Her mother had turned and fixed her three year old daughter with a look that one might have mistaken for screwing up, as she had stuck her tongue out in embarassment. Only when she had picked Kikan up had the little girl realized how tightly tensed her mother's muscles were, as if it toke every iota of strength she had to act cheerful. Her smile: all plastic, no diamonds.

But why did she feel like this?

-SYC
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