Thursday, August 3, 2006

"Can you let go of my arm now?" Kikan had just noticed a mother scurrying away with her hand on her small child's eyes, although nothing was really happening. "Apparently, we're rated PG-13 out here." Her smile turned to an almost vicious sneer when she thought of how her parents would react if they saw her now. Probably they'd bring me back home and start demanding why I'm trying to embarrass them again.

Kentei, having been completely absorbed in studying her arm up and down, running his fingers something over them, snapped out of it and released her arm. "Sorry 'bout that."

She didn't reply but starting walking back to one of the complex's building, steady stride by steady stride. He quickly caught back up to her and fell into the walk alongside her. With her hands at her sides again, the sleeves had cloaked her arms, shielding them from the outside again, almost like they were freaks in a world of normality and needed to be hidden away. That was probably the subconscious reason for the overly long-sleeved black-blue shirt.

He swallowed a bit before asking his next question. Almost sure he would be severely beat for touching this subject, he asked, "Hey....There a reason for covering your arms?" Shutting his eyes, he prepared for the beatdown that was surely imminent.

Instead, she chuckled. And chuckled. And then laughed her flippin' ass off. Kentei stared, no reason that she could possibly be laughing this hard at making contact with his brain. After a minute or two of hard-out laughing, she managed to slow it down, only chuckling again.

"Uh....did I say something?"

Kikan had stopped by then, and was the same stoic statue she usually was. "Sorry. Usually, people ask me that while they're chasing me with torches and pitchforks." While he continued to stare at her, now with horror in his eyes, she added, "You know, only half of that was true."

"Which half?" The half-lazy bum was almost afraid to ask for fear of eternal damnation.

Her stone cold eyes were back with a vengeance, not shining a bit even in the annoyingly bright summer sun. Even just glancing at Kentei for a moment made him feel ice breaking through his bones, replacing the warm marrow that should be there; he felt that his skin was no longer there, letting him feel exposed to something too cold to be human. And that happened every time she looked at him like that, too.

"....Carrying a weapon around Tokyo's small family parks causes trouble. Plenty of trouble from parents, but when the local police get involved, it gets nasty. And, as for your original question," her eyes shifted to bore into the gravel at her feet, "When I started fighting, I was proud of my scars. I thought that because of them, people would think I was strong, so that I could think I was strong....but after my father had been harrassed by too many fellow fathers because their sons had picked fights with a girl around my age carrying a blade taller than a normal man and got hurt. My father had taken me back home, and amazingly didn't take Child's Play away; but, he told me that if I embarrassed the family again, I-" She cut herself off, like she had realized she was going to reveal a friend's deepest secret to someone.

If she had ever had that experience before.

Kentei tried to press further details from her. "You....You what? What would've he done?" Really, he should've have been so nosy.

She didn't even deign to look at his face this time. Instead, she just up and walked quickly away to the door back inside the apartments. Kentei was left, staring at her retreating back, cursing himself for screwing up so badly that she would storm off, stone cold eyes and all. Why do I have the impending feeling that I'm screwed? Nevertheless, not being a person that let these kinds of things wait, he bounded after her to try to apologize, in his lazy bum way.

Running inside, all he saw was the empty hallway and maybe one or two or three unconscious otaku precariously strewn across the floor. Kentei ran over them all, bare feet falling on their chests and legs as he continued to try to find Kikan.

On that matter, why the hell did he care? He asked himself the same thing. I have no reason to worry and try to make up with her-I don't owe her money, she didn't save me from a death on the front of some speeding beer truck, and she definately didn't declare her vast, profound love for me. So, why do I care? But, being his lazy-bum self, he decided to forget about his self-debating, and focus that brainpower on finding that slightly annoying little girl.

Breaking all rules to run down the hall, he very nearly slammed into Rangi, who had just set foot outside his room. Catching him by the shoulders, the older man said, "Whoa, there. Where are you goin', little sloth?"

Ignoring the nickname, Kentei asked, "Did Kikan come by here at all?" Shaking his head no, Rangi watched Kentei tear down the stairs again, muttering, "Damn! This much progress in what? An hour and a half?" He was horribly mistaken, but he didn't know and didn't care to find out. Stepping back into his lair o' doom, he kept muttering under his breath about summer and the stupidity that happened during it.

While Rangi was processing his thoughts, Kentei had stopped clean in the middle of the stairs. She probably went to her room; it's not like she knows where anything else is. Stupid! Running like a fool to her room, he vaguely remembered to quiet down, and open the door to her room SLOWLY, SLOWLY....

To see her on the bed, just staring at "Child's Play"'s blade.

He froze, the grumpy deer in the headlights of her unsuspecting eyes, as the always-silent girl took out a cloth and started to shine her beloved weapon, taking care to check for breaks in the bandages around the hilt and handle, sharpening the blade against a dark whetstone she pulled out of her single pack. The almost loving devotion she gave her mentor's vessel almost looked like a child's devotion to a very old and special toy, quiet fascination at such a powerful looking blade, and it was hers.

Then, very softly, very gently, Kikan began to hum. It had no melody, just a random assortment of notes; but her voice gave it wings, to fly in the air and press against listeners' ears, compelling them to hear more. In Kentei's case, he did that exact thing. Squatting, then sitting on the floor, he sat there as she hummed softly to a dear friend. Nearing the end of her song, he could hear a different voice, an older, more mature, richer voice, join hers in the aimless melody in harmony with hers. And as she reached the peaceful peak of the song, their voices were one, singing one song. Even when she had finished, and the last note had died away, there was still a voice in the air, whispering the last note 'til it died away as well.

And the boy sitting there on the floor wished he could have joined them in their wonderful song.

-SYC
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