DAIサマ

“’Men came and dragged her away. Men in black coats and hats as tall as steeples. They skewered the cat on a pike; they smashed the rabbit’s skull by hitting him against the wall. They said that these were not God’s creatures but familiars, the Devil himself in disguise. They threw the mess of fur and flesh on to the midden and threatened to do the same to me, to her, if she did not confess her sins to them.’”

“…What jerks!” Jin called abruptly. Touya ‘shhed’ him, and continued to read from Celia Rees’s “Witch Child.”

“’They took her away then. She was locked in the keep for more than a week. First they “walked” her, marching her up and down, up and down between them for a day and a night until she could no longer hobble, her feet all bloody and swollen. She would not confess. So they set about to prove she was a witch. They called in a woman, a Witch Pricker, who stabbed my grandmother all over with long pins, probing for the spot that was numb, where no blood ran, the place where the familiars fed. The men watched as the woman did this, and my grandmother was forced to stand before their gloating eyes, a naked old lady, deprived of modesty and dignity, the blood streaming down her withered body, and still she would not confess.’” Touya’s voice was steady, with a flowing beat and a thespian’s flair of emotion to his reading. Quite different from how he normally spoke, yes, but in books, he was not himself, but the character, so he would read as them: Not Touya.

Jin bobbed up and down in the light blue lounge chair, his feet held in his hands; he had been listening intently to Touya reading the new book (he had just finished “Dream Catcher” by Stephen King) ever since he had started. To Jin, it was rather fun listening to Touya read certain books. Most of them he couldn’t understand (“The Queen of the Damned” by Anne Rice, for example), but this one was quite different from the rest. You see, this book was about his era. In the seventeenth century, he was still in the United Kingdom. He had moved from Ireland temporarily to Great Britain in the year one thousand six hundred fifty-five (1655, to the common eye); he had come to realize that was really not the best time to move there, and was almost immediately (at least within four months of living in Somerset) tried as a warlock. Of course we all know these accusations were completely and utterly false, because Jin is everyone’s favourite wind Shinobi! He’s not a warlock, obviously; that’s ludicrous to even suggest, because he is such a lovely demon it’s almost offensive! But no matter. Jin was very fond of this book, for he could relate to it, and was rather interested in the Witch Trials, for he was indeed a part of them; but that, dear children, is a different story. --I might write it: Watch out. DAIサマ--

“‘They decide to “float” her. They had plenty of evidence against her, you see. Plenty. All week folk had been coming to them with accusations. How she had overlooked them, bringing sickness to their livestock and families; how she had used magic, sticking pins in wax figures to bring on affliction; how she had transformed herself and roamed the country for miles around as a great hare and how she did this by the use of ointment made from melted corpse far. They questioned me, demanding—’”

“ARE YOU QUITE DONE YET?”

Jin and Touya’s heads looked simultaneously to the door that led into the foyer. There stood Rinku, his face screwed up with irritation and rage, with his arms crossed and door open wide. Jin could make out the tall figure of Suzuki quickly ducking into the kitchen. There was a silence in the room as the trio stared at each other; it was an awkward silence on Rinku’s behalf, and simply a noiseless moment for the Shinobi pair. Rinku coughed, his eyes darting slightly to the television monitor in the corner of the room, sitting in a tall chestnut wood wall unit. Touya sighed, dog-eared the page (the corner meeting the beginning of the next paragraph), and shut the book swiftly. Touya noiselessly stood, the loveseat and pillows rearranging themselves back into place as if Touya hadn’t even disrupted them. Jin ascended to the ceiling, turned over slowly, stared at Rinku from upside-down, continued to turn right-side-up, descended slightly and exited the room from over Rinku’s head. The child grinned as Touya walked straight-backed past his side, then dashed to where the juhyou tsukai had been sitting, snatched a small black remote control and clicked on the television.

“’MY NEWT!’” The sound of Waffle’s voice carried into the kitchen.

“Cat Scratch…” Touya mumbled into his book. He sat at the table, flipping through the pages absentmindedly, sipping a glass of ice water. Suzuki had deposited a glass into the sink, after pouring out the milk that he never drank (it had become very warm). He was searching the rack of spices and other small bottled things, pulling out bottles one-by-one and either sitting them on the counter or sticking them hastily back on the shelf. His head turned around slightly to look at Touya.

“You don’t like that show, Touya-san?” Suzuki asked in an airy voice. Touya didn’t raise his eyes, but Suzuki saw him shake his head slowly from the corner of his eye.

“No. It’s stupid, and completely unrealistic. Seriously; a woman dies and leaves her entire fortune to her three cats, who then take control of the mansion and torture the butler?” Touya flipped a page in his book. Suzuki chuckled.

“You’ve never been to Florida, have you?” he replied richly. He pulled a small glass bottle with a fish on the label from the shelf. “An old rich woman leaving everything to her cats is completely realistic. They’re mainly Jewish, and mainly Floridian. Florida is where old American people go to die.”

“What’s that?” Touya inquired, finally looking up. He chose to ignore Suzuki’s prejudice and inane comment. The brush of the door being pulled open could be heard.

“O, this? It’s Lorilei’s gourmet fish food. I usually add some stuff to it, though; y’know, to make it more tasty.” Suzuki beamed, shaking the little bottle.

“…THAT’S FISH FOOD!” Chuu bellowed, his face growing a bit green. Touya and Suzuki stared at him.

“Apparently,” came Touya’s quiet voice.

“…Yes, Chuu. It’s fish food. But it’s gourmet fish food, ‘for your little swimmer’s delight.’” Suzuki quoted happily.

Chuu’s face became a deeper shade of green. He clasped his hand to his mouth, and ran back into the living room, ducking under a floating Jin. The two in the kitchen followed Chuu out the door with their eyes, then looked to Jin for an explanation.

“He put the fish food on his dinner last night, thinking it was a spice to put ON fish. I told ‘im it weren’t, but did ‘e listen? Noooo…!” Jin answered, landing on the ground and walking to the refrigerator. “No one ever listens ta me; ‘course not! ‘Cause Jin’s just some air-headed, windward idiot an’ dun know what ‘e’s talkin’ about!” Jin continued. Suzuki’s face went blank as he watched the kaze tsukai push things around in the fridge.

“…I don’t think that, Jin.” Touya said quietly. Jin looked over his shoulder and grinned at the smaller demon, a slight pink tint to his cheeks. Suzuki nodded quickly, coming down to earth once more.

“Nor do I!” he said. Jin smiled, gave a small chuckle, and shut the fridge.

“’Ey, Suzuki, wha’z fer lunch?” he boomed cheerfully.

“…You just ate breakfast,” Touya replied.

“One, you ain’t Suzuki; two, I just MADE breakfast, and I reckoned since Suzuki di’n’t eat nothin’, he’d be makin’ lunch earlier.”

“Well, Jin, Shishiwakamaru was going to be making lunch. But he might have escaped out of his window by now, or something of the sort,” Suzuki said coolly, mixing the spices and the fish food in some small bowl of steaming liquid.

“We’re gonna have another episode, ain’t we? Chasin’ Shishiwaka, tryin’ ta get ‘im ta come back?” Jin groaned, recalling the previous occasion where the five had searched throughout the proximity of the house, searching for Shishiwakamaru for days; he had begun tired of them, and ran off. Suzuki persuaded him to come back when Jin found in up a tree, sulking to the birds.

“I doubt it. He didn’t eat any dinner—nor lunch—yesterday, so I reckon he’s too hungry to run off,” Suzuki laughed, stirring the gourmet fish food in its bowl.

“Good. I am too,” Jin said, relieved, and he pulled out a chair and sat across from Touya, his back to him.

“Jin, why must you sit like some uncivilized hooligan?” Touya questioned in a minute but irritated voice. Jin tossed his head back, looking at Touya upside-down, and smiled.

“’Cause it’s comfy!”

As if to spite him, not even a moment after Jin finished his sentence, the legs collapsed. Jin landed flat on his face atop the broken wooden chair, his arms still crossed and sitting as they had on the back of the chair. Suzuki grinned, smiling at the situation. Touya chuckled heartily, concealing his smiling countenance with his cupped hand, though the humour still twinkled in his eyes.

Rinku in the living room was roaring with laughter at his cartoon. Jin lay on the ground for quite some time before lolling onto his back, holding his stomach with his hands.

“Ittai…” he groaned, drawing up his knees. Suzuki suppressed a laugh.

“Y-you o-kay?” He tried to sound concerned (not saying that he wasn’t) and sincere, but his voice shook with giggles. Jin shot him a glare as he forced himself up off of the ground.

“Aye.” Kicking a piece of wood from his path, a cross Jin shuffled out the door, into the backyard. Touya caught Suzuki’s eye, and they smiled at each other, silently sharing the humour.

“Dinner?” Touya asked jokingly, mischief brewing in his air.

“Of course.” Suzuki poured his concoction into a small, stout vile, and capped it. Touya smiled at him, he returning the gesture whole-heartedly, as Suzuki bowed and exited the room.

“’Aye, I LOVE yuu-nee-corns,’” came the TV’s sound once more; it was Gordon now, instead of Mr. Blik. --Yes. I do indeed like this show. Sod off. DAIサマ--

Suzuki made his way up the stairs slowly, step-by-step; he was careful not to drop the fish food.

Things calmed usually by an hour before lunch, or around that time. Suzuki had slept a lot of the morning away. After his little conversation with Rinku, he went in and played with his fish, then read a bit, and then slept until ten; for about two hours, then.

Lunchtime was his favourite part of the day: Everyone was fed, everyone was content, no one was tired, and everyone was calm (or normal, at the very least). It was his favourite part of the day, which seemed to run on forever and ever. Many of their days were exactly the same, so it all was a circuitous cycle for poor Suzuki. But they had Shishiwakamaru and Rinku to make fights (which grew more and more interesting and entertaining each time) and Jin to be Jin and Suzuki to fill hearts and feed mouths, so all days weren’t EXACTLY the same. But they never did seem to be over, nonetheless…

Bwahaha… Yeah, this chapter sucked. Not very funny. Sorry! Lunch will be. I promise! I have a corny joke in store, and it has everything to do with a very excited Touya! (Some may be able to guess. My words to those who can’t: “Chillax!” –also a clue--) I’m sorry I didn’t fill anyone’s cartoon requests! And… This will soon involve Lorilei more… Sorry she hasn’t been so important. She’s the main-character. YY O-tay. Bai-bai. DAIサマ