Project Sakura (Bishoujo RP)

[bamboo]

GAMIN AND DELILAH

It was so depressing when--after being rescued by Rex and company from that weirdo mad cat scientist who was planning to give me a radical haircut--we immediately fell into the clutches of Miss Kuchisake. That was not the way things were supposed to turn out. The original plan had been for Master Taro and me to capture her! But now we-- Rex, his friend Corgi, Miss Komegura, CeMell, and I-were her prisoners. We outnumbered her. But we didn't outnumber her goons-those cat men called Meow Meow. After a certain amount of gloating, Miss Kuchisake had them separate us and take us away. 

One of the goons hauled CeMell over his shoulder, grabbed me by the collar, and dragged me away. I don’t know what became of the others.

Boy--was that guy strong. He was butt naked and had tiger stripe tattoos all over his body-and he stank!

I was pretty anxious about where we were going, as you might guess. I had a small thought in the back of my mind that Miss Kuchisake might want to keep me alive in order to sacrifice me to that demon, Uzumaki, like she had tried to do once before. In that case, there might not be any harm coming to me right away. But, on the other hand, she had my sister now, so what did she need me for? I had a vision of my poor, lifeless form lying in a shallow grave somewhere or in someone’s stew. I had already peed my pants once today and I was feeling pretty dehydrated, so I stayed pretty dry. But I was feeling so sorry for myself that I could have cried. But Master Taro had pretty much beaten that kind of stuff out of me. I was a samurai-in-training after all, and we samurai don’t cry.

The goon carried us down a hallway and stopped in front of a door. He waited, and presently a woman came along. She was the oldish cat woman I’d seen with Kuchisake back in that other room that looked a Viking beer hall or something. She was called Mrs. Norris, I think.

She unlocked the door and gestured to the goon. “Bring them in here,” she said.

It wasn’t a dungeon or a jail cell or anything like that, just an ordinary room.

No! Slash that! It wasn’t an ordinary room, like any I’d ever seen. I think this place must have been a love hotel, because this room definitely had a theme. There was a bed at the opposite end of the room with zebra-striped sheets on it and a leopard-skin rug on the floor. The walls were covered with wallpaper depicting a jungle scene and mounted animal heads. Over to the right, behind some potted plants, there was a Jacuzzi sunk into the floor, representing a jungle lagoon-with hot and cold running water and a whirlpool. An in the ceiling overhead was a giant mural of Lum from Urusai Yatsura. There were two spotlights in the ceiling, right where her breasts would have been.
It was kind of a tasteless room, but designed for certain tastes, I guess.

“Put her on the bed,” she told the goon, who proceed to dump poor CeMell there.

Of course, he had to let go of me to do that, and I glanced at the open door.

“Don’t try anything,” Mrs. Norris said.

She needn’t have bothered. I knew it was hopeless.

“Well?” she said, expecting some kind of response. You know: “You can’t get away with this,” or “the authorities will hear about this.” But I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of hearing any empty threats from me. I just stood there with my arms folded over my chest and (I hoped) an inscrutable expression on my face.

She turned her attention to CeMell, who was still unconscious.

“What’s this?” she asked. She picked up the end of the rubber hose that was stuck in CeMell’s head. “Well?”

I shrugged. “Why ask me? One of your crowd was using it to suck brain juice out of her.”

“Hmmm,” she said and yanked it out. Liquid started to ooze out of the hole in CeMell’s head.

“Hey!” I said, rushing over to the bedside. There was a box of tissue on a table next to the bed, and I began to frantically stuff tissues into the hole in CeMell’s head, attempting to staunch the flow.

“What are you trying to do? Kill her?” I shouted.

“We’ll see. If she dies, it’s what she deserves for spying on us.”

“She’s not a spy. She’s a secret agent. Besides, don’t you realize what that bitch, Kuchisake, is trying to do?”

She let out an unhuman howl and struck me hard on the side of the head. I was knocked back and bounced off the edge of the table and went down on the floor. I didn’t try getting back up, but just laid there while little chirping birdies flew around my head.

Mrs. Norris motioned to the goon.

“You-keep guard outside.”

Then they both started to leave. But Mrs. Norris paused when she got to the door and looked back, regretfully.

“Too bad, she was a very good seamstress,” she said. Then she left, closing the door behind her.

I sat up, rubbing the side of my head.

The edge of that table was pretty sharp, but luckily it didn’t break the skin. I was going to have a terrible goose egg soon, but once again, my thick skull had saved me.

I got up and examined CeMell. The tissues I’d stuffed in her head were soaked, so I replaced them. But that would only be a temporary measure at best, so I looked around to see what I could find to use to make a bandage out of. I found a bath room behind a door with an elephant on it. It was small, just a toilet and a shower. There was also a medicine cabinet on the wall, but it was empty. There was also a locker, and in it I found a papier-m√¢ch√© club (like you’d see in a Flintstones cartoon), an assortment of electric vibrators and lubes, some chains, a couple of loincloths and a Lum costume–everything you’d need for a little prehistoric cosplay (except that Lum is an alien, not a cave girl).

Anyway, I took one of the loin cloths, ripped it into strips and tied the ends together to create a sort of makeshift bandage. I also found a sponge on a shelf in the shower stall. It looked clean, and I thought it would soak up the ooze, so I took it. Back at the bed, I replaced the soggy tissues with the sponge and tied the loincloth around it to hold it in place. I had to pick up her head to get it around the back. Her fur was nice-silky. She moaned softly. That proved she was still alive, at least, but I wondered how much brain juice she could lose before she gorked.

I got the sponge in position and tied the bandage around it tightly. She kind of looked like a pirate when I was done. I laid her head back down and sat there next to her, gazing into her face. There was nothing else to do. All during that process I’d forgotten about my own head, which was throbbing fiercely now. Plus, fatigue was catching up with me and I had a great urge to lie down. But, for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to lie down next to CeMell, so I wrapped myself up in the leopard skin and slept on the floor.

When I woke up, my head was a little better, but the rest of me was aching all over. When I got to my feet and stretched out my arms everything in the world made popping noises in my back. I decided I needed to take a soak in the Jacuzzi, so I filled the tub, turned on the whirlpool and eased myself down into the water, where the massaging jets felt pretty good.

I started feeling more and more relaxed, reasoning-grimly–that if I was going to my doom, there couldn’t be any better way than this. I leaned back and stared at the enormous figure of Lum looming over me with her twin headlights and wondered if I was going to get a last meal or something.

I had folded my clothes up and laid them beside the tub, but I figured that they must be pretty rank by now–after all I’d been through–and a quick sniff assured me they were. So I tossed them into the tub with me and let the whirlpool swirl them around. I heard something fall out of my pants pocket and hit the floor of the tub. When I fished it out, it turned out to be my harmonica, which I still had despite everything we’d been through together.

Bet you didn’t know I played the harmonica. Yeah, I do-a little–Blues, mostly. Stuff I hear on television or in American movies. I don’t even know the names of most of the songs, and I just fake it most of the time. But it calms my nerves. So I knocked the water out of it and started blowing out a few riffs on my harp.

“Stop, please. That sound makes my head hurt.”

“Wha¬Ö!” I was startled and jumped to my feet.

CeMell was awake. She was lying on her back-the way I’d left her–but her eyes were open and she was staring at the ceiling. But she slowly turned her head and looked in my direction.

“You are the young man from the cave. A friend of Rex. Am I right?”

I nodded.

“You don’t have any clothes on.”

“Eep!”

I suddenly realized that I was standing up in the tub, with the glory of my manhood in full display. I looked around for something to cover myself with, but my clothes were floating around my ankles, being gently agitated by the whirlpool action. I looked around for something else–a robe or a towel–but there were none in sight. Finally I grabbed one of the smaller potted plants near the edge of the tub and held it up in front of me.

“Were you planning to violate me?” she asked.

“Uh¬Öno I was just taking a bath.”

I need to point out here that her voice was very musical. I’d never heard anything like it. And when she spoke those words, the music said she was being sarcastic. I didn’t know how to react. I was both confused and embarrassed that she thought I would try to take advantage of her vulnerability. Plus, I was holding a heavy flower pot in front of my gonads.

I guess she could tell from my face how I was feeling, because she said: “I’m sorry if I’ve mistaken your intentions. But I’ve seen so much of that type of behavior at the Chateau to assume the worse. This is one of the rooms in the Chateau, is it not?”

I nodded.

“Are we safe, then?”

I shook my head and filled her in on all that had happened since she’d been unconscious.

She sighed. “So Rex has failed once more.”

“What?” I replied. Rex? Fail? I had supreme confidence in Rex to save the day–well, no, I didn’t really. But I still had my hopes.

CeMell tried to raise herself up, but the effort was too much for her. She grimaced and slumped back down.

“Hey, don’t do that,” I said. “You’ll hurt yourself.” I rushed over to the bed, intending to help her, although there wasn’t much I could do with this plant in my hands. But she waved me away and heaved herself up to a sitting position.

“I’ll be alright,” she said. “Did you do this?” she asked, touching my bandage.

I nodded.

“Hmmm, I appreciate your efforts,” she replied. “But I doubt that it is enough. Unless I can get professional help, I fear I may not have long to live.” She sighed, “Already I hear the wings of the Great One, gently flapping. Mothra!” That last thing she said under her breath-I had no idea what it meant. Needless to say, the music in her voice was very sad.

“Why don’t you put down that palm?” she said. “It must be getting heavy.”

“Well¬Öuh¬Öyou see¬Ömy clothes–” I replied.

“Please don’t worry about that for my sake,” she replied. “I don’t mind nudity. See?” she said, stretching out her arms and prominently displaying her fur-covered breasts and little pink nipples, “I never wear clothes.”

“Yeah,” I said. "But you’ve got a permanent fur coat.
For some reason, that innocent comment made her look sad. She turned to look behind her and I could see moisture in her eyes. I guess she was still troubled by the loss of her tail.

Reluctantly, I put down the pot and tried to be nonchalant about standing in front of her nude. But the water on my body was starting to turn cold and I was getting chilly.

“Hold on a minute,” I said.

I went back to the Jacuzzi and turned off the whirlpool. Then I gathered up my clothes and headed for the bath room-all the while trying to maintain a low profile. For her part, CeMell just sat on the bed and watched my actions as indifferently as any other cat would.

In the bath room, I wrung out my clothes as best I could and hung them up on the shower rod. I dried myself off with a wash cloth I found, but looked in vain for a bath robe or a towel I could put around myself. “For a love hotel, the service really sucks here,” I said to myself. And, because there was nothing else, I put on the remaining loin cloth from the locker. The coverage was minimal, but that would have to do until my clothes dried. You know, surveying myself in the bath room mirror, I had to admit I looked a little like Tarzan in that loin cloth. All those months of working out with Master Taro were beginning to show.

When I came back out, CeMell was now reclining on the bed with some pillows propped up behind her and her feet stretched out in front of her. She didn’t offer any comments, good or bad, about what I was wearing, but, instead, expressed her disappointment about the lack of windows in the room.

“Yeah,” I said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. There was no other place to sit-no chairs or anything. This room obviously wasn’t meant for doing any light reading in. “If there were any, we could bust through it and escape.”

“Damage private property?” CeMell replied. “I think not.”

“Are you really a Frussian spy?” I asked. I remembered Rex calling her such.

"A spy is a dirty and low character-a villain and traitor. I am an operative for the Franco-Russian Empire. It is an honorable profession-and there is no such place as Frussia.

“I’m sorry,” I replied, but we always called in Frussia in school. The Franco-Russian Empire, if you don’t know, resulted when Napoleon conquered Russia in the nineteenth century. It consists of France, Russia and a bunch of little European countries in between that nobody can remember the names of anymore. Of course, Frussia’s never been too friendly with Japan-Northern Territories, you know. But this probably wasn’t a good time to bring up politics.
“What part of Fruss-I mean the Franco-Russian Empire were you born in?” I asked.

“I was not born there,” she replied. “I was born on Infant Island.”

“Oh? Where all the silk comes from?”

She nodded. “Many of us chose to leave when the original Meow Meow Uprisings began. It was our desire to not be involved.”

“But now you’re involved, anyway,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “The Meow Meow fanatics and their delusional leaders are not the real problem. They are the end product of a number of unfortunate decisions made by the gangster who owns this place. Once they’re found out, they can be dealt with.”

I thought that was kind of wacky talk coming out of someone who had been nearly killed by them, but I kept that to myself.

“The real enemy at work here is unknown,” she continued. “An unseen group has been manipulating events here at the Chateau for some time now. Do you know what the real purpose of this place has always been? Why it’s only nekomimi who work here?”

I shrugged. Of course I didn’t. But I guess the question was only meant to be rhetorical, anyway.

“Its purpose was to lure those who were dissatisfied with their place in society by allowing them the chance to alter their appearance in order to pass as monk-pardon me-I mean mainstream humans.”

She meant: “to pass as monkeys,” of course. Well, personally I like to think that I’m not prejudice. After all, I liked Yuki’s friend, Eri, and some of the guys at school had been tomcats-a little bit yankee, but not that bad. But I was aware that a lot of people didn’t like cats. If a nekomimi thought it would make his life easier if people saw him as one of us, I didn’t see any problem and told CeMell so.

“Personally, I find it repugnant,” she replied. “People should respect what they are, and not try to change. Beside this is not some innocent self-improvement program. These people, once transformed, and indoctrinated into infiltrating society, becoming spies, assassins. That is what the Jaguars do.”

“Jaguars?” I asked.

“That’s what we call them,” she answered.

Well, that still didn’t sound so bad to me-sort of like ninjas, you know. But nothing compared to what Miss Kuchisake was trying to do-call up Uzumaki and hand the world to him on a silver platter. I said so to CeMell and told her about my previous run-in with him-or at least his shadow on the Earth.

“And you see,” I said. “With Master Taro dead, there’s no one who can stop her.”

I don’t know if she believed me, but she was quiet for a long time-lost in thought apparently. Finally, she turned to me and said: “That instrument you were torturing a while ago, can you actually play it?”

“What? My harmonica?” I replied. “Of course I can play it. Don’t you like the Blues?”

“Blues? American Jazz? I’m not very familiar with it. Perhaps if I heard it performed by a skilled practitioner¬Ö”

“Hey!” I replied.

“Can you play anything you are good at?”

“Uh¬Öwell, Ue O Muite Arokou (ed. Note: Sukiyaki to you) was the first thing I learned. I’m pretty good at that.”

“A pleasant melody and a favorite of mine, as it happens. Would you play it for me?”

“Sure.”

I retrieved my harmonica and started in on it. CeMell seemed to like it. She smiled and closed her eyes. Following that, I played a few other things for her: old folk songs and some enka. She seemed to like the sad songs.

And then Mrs. Norris returned, interrupting the concert. She looked at CeMell and said: “I see you’ve survived, after all.”

CeMell nodded. “Do not discount the power of sheer animal vitality, as well as the ministrations of a helpful young friend.” She touched her head where I had bandaged it.

“Hmmm,” Mrs. Norris replied. “Probably wasted effort. But I’ve been instructed to keep you alive, so I’ve brought you some food.”

She had been followed into the room by two cat girls pushing a serving cart with a covered platter on top. The smaller girl was uber cute, with a ponytail and big, round eyes. She had a sweet, innocent expression on her face and looked a little like that Breakfast at Tiffany’s girl. The taller one wore a sort of catty expression on her face and had¬Öwell, I guess you could say bedroom eyes.

“This is Gamine,” Mrs. Norris said, indicating the smaller girl. “And this is Delilah. They will take care of you.”

“The condemned ate a hearty meal,” I said. I couldn’t help myself; I just had to say it.

“If you like,” Mrs. Norris said, not batting an eyelash. “When you’re done,” she sad to the girls, go back to the kitchen. They curtsied as she turned her back and left the room.

The girls pushed the cart up to the bed and the one named Delilah removed the cover from the platter.

“Rice,” she said, indicating two bowls of steaming grain. “And karaage,” pointing to a plate heaped with baked and marinated chicken bits. “It’s not much, but it’s the best the cook could whip up at short notice.”

There was also a pot of tea, and I gratefully helped myself to a cup, because I was feeling pretty fagged out.

“No silverware,” Delilah went on. “So you’ll have to use your hands.”

“I brought some napkins,” Gamin said, smiling. She scrutinized my face. “Are you Chinpo, the top fighter?” she asked.

“What?” I replied.

“Chinpo, the top choice meat is more like it,” Delilah, who was fussing around with the food, said.

“Poo,” Gamine said. “Don’t be so mean. I like Chinpo. Don’t you like Chinpo?”

“Well,” Delilah replied. “I like the way he’s dressed.” She looked me up and down and I remembered that I was only clad in a loin cloth. I think I might have turned a little red. “Here,” she said, handing me a plate of food. “Singer?” she said, addressing CeMell.

CeMell, who had been regarding the girls with an amused expression, suddenly sat up. “Excuse me, Chinpo,” she said, and placing an arm on my shoulder, she leapt over me and landed, cat-like, on the floor.

“Hey!” I said. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I am fine,” she replied, stretching her body like a cat waking up from a nap; it was quite a show, and the girls clapped their hands in glee. “Well, how did you two manage to get this assignment?”

“It was just a matter of being in the right place at the right time,” Delilah replied.

“And being nice,” Gamine added.

“Very well, then,” CeMell said. She sat down on the floor and started to do some kind of exercises-Pilates, I think. “Report,” she said.

“Yes, Singer,” Delilah said, “Ever since you disappeared, the Meow Meow have pretty much taken over.”

¬ëYes, that is obvious," CeMell replied. “What of that woman?”

“She spends most of her time down in the caves, preparing for some kind of ceremony. By the way, there’s an entrance to the labyrinth right here in the Chateau, under the kitchen.”

“So?” CeMell replied. “I wish I had known that. I wouldn’t have had to deal with that Komegura woman.”

“Sorry we let you down, Singer,” Delilah said. “There’s other news.”

“What is that?” CeMell asked.

“There’s been some kind of commotion in the Convent down the road and there’s a rumor that an important prisoner escaped.”

“Yuki?” I asked. I don’t know why, but I just had this feeling.

“Who’s Yuki?” Delilah asked.

“My sister,” I replied.

“Oh,” Gamine said. “Your sister. It must be nice to have a sister.”

“You have a sister, stupid,” Delilah said, slapping her. “Me!”

“Ow,” Gamine said. “Is your sister a mean one, like mine, Chinpo?”

CeMell stood up. “So there seems to be a certain amount of disorder in the system. Perhaps we can exploit that. How many are still on our side?”

“A few,” Delilah replied, “Not many. And then there’s the Acolytes.”

“Who are they?” CeMell asked

“Some women who came over from the Convent. They’re all over the Chateau now. They wear hoods and they’re a mean bunch. I think they might be cannibals. Some of the staff have been disappearing lately.”

CeMell sighed. “So we are outnumbered?”

“But what about Rex?” I asked.

Delilah looked uncomfortable as I spoke his name and glanced at CeMell. “Don’t count on him,” she replied. “He’s gone over to the other side.”

“No! That’s impossible,” I said.

“Well, all I know,” Delilah replied. “Is that he’s hanging around with that fat gangster who owns this place-him and that little horndog companion of his, who’s tried to jump on everyone around.”

“Eyuu! He’s so yucky,” Gamine said.

“Well, I don’t believe it,” I said. “I bet Rex is just biding his time until he can come up with some brilliant plan to get us all out of here.”

“Don’t count on it,” CeMell said. There was a certain hardness in her voice. “How well do you know Rex, anyway?”

Well, I had to admit I hadn’t known him for very long, but our parents had trusted him enough to make him our guardian while they were gone. On the other hand, within a week after he’d show up, Yuki had been kidnapped and I had been thrown in jail.

“So he let you down, too,” CeMell said. “I feel the need for a shower. Girls, take care of him, please.”

“Heh, heh, righto, Singer,” Delilah said.

CeMell headed for the bath room.

“Wait,” I said. “CeMell, these girls are¬Ö” I was trying to get her to say it.

“Yes, spies.” She replied.

“And spies are¬Ö?”

“Just spies,” she said as she disappeared into the bath room.

After she left, an uncomfortable feeling settled over me. Here I was, alone in a room with two beautiful cat girls and nothing on but my Tarzan rig. I put my head down and concentrated on eating my chicken.

“Oh, a Jacuzzi!” Gamine exclaimed, turning on the whirlpool. “Let’s all take a bath!”
Delilah sat down on the bed next to me and put her arm around my shoulder. “How about it, Chinpo? Want to take a bath?”

Gulp! “Already had one,” I replied.

She gazed at me with smoldering eyes and said, “Come, Chinpo, you know what I mean.”

I’m afraid I did. My heart was racing; I was starting to sweat; and my loin cloth was starting to rise.

Gamine had already doffed her garments and was splashing around in the bath and swishing her tail. She had a small, trim body, with tiny breasts and looked so young that under any other circumstances that this, I would have asked her for some I.D.

Delilah rose and, taking my hand, let me over to the Jacuzzi where she let go and undressed. She was a bit more voluptuous than her sister: wide hips and ample breasts. She had long black hair and skin was as white as alabaster. She could easily have been mistaken for a statue of a Greek goddess if she’d been standing still. But she wasn’t. She stepped into the Jacuzzi and started romping around with her sister.

“Chinpo,” she urged.

“Yeah, Chinpo!” Gamine said. “Only I think I’ll call you Chin-chin.”

I stood on the edge of the tub and on the brink of temptation, as well. What was holding me back? I mean, beside never having had a 3P before? Or, I have to admit, even a 1P. But the problem was guilt. What about Kitsune? If I took that step, wouldn’t I be unfaithful to her? Well, that was what the angel standing on my right shoulder was saying. Meanwhile, the devil on my left shoulder was saying: faithful to what? Hadn’t I had nothing but trouble ever since I met her? But that was just the foxes, I replied. I’m sure I really love her, despite her condition.

In the end, though, the decision was taken out of my hands. Delilah took hold of one of my ankles and Gamine the other. They pulled me in and pinned me down. What could I do? I had one to the left of me and one to the right of me and they were feeling me all over.

“Wow, you’re solid,” Delilah said, admiring my muscles.

Suddenly, there was a loud noise in the hall outside, and the door to the room flew open with a bang.

“Chinpo, darling! I’ve found you at last!”

Kitsune was standing in the doorway.

[bamboo]

Fox and Crow

‘Chinpo…Darling! At last I've found--Waaa…!"

The door burst open and there was Kitsune, standing in the opening and I don’t know which of us was more surprised. This time she was dressed as shrine maiden and holding a small bag, which she dropped when she saw me. I thought I heard it say ¬ëcaw’ when it hit the floor. She turned red and she covered her face with her hand.

“Kitsune!” I shouted and started to get up, but Delilah put her hand on my shoulder, reminding me where I was, sitting in a hot tub with two naked cat girls and practically naked myself. I think I went a little red myself.

“Hee hee, this isn’t what it looks like,” I said.

“It’s exactly what it looks like,” Delilah said, giving me a sarcastic look. “Why don’t you join us, honey? We’re very broadminded.”

I felt her tugging at something under the water, and the next thing I knew she was holding my loin cloth in her hand.

“Hey, give that back,” I shouted.

I made a grab for it, but she lobbed it over my head and it landed in a corner.

“Poo,” said Gamin, who was sitting on my other side. “I’m not broadminded. In fact, I don’t even like having you in here, Big Sis. I want Chin-Chin all myself, meow meow.” She grabbed me around the shoulders and rubbed her head on my chest, sticking her tongue out at Delilah.

“Please don’t call me that,” I said.

"Dummy!" Delilah said and smacked Gamin on the head.

"Oww, oww! You're mean, Big Sister." 

Kitsune closed the door behind her and leaned against it. She suddenly looked very sad and tears started rolling down her cheeks.

Chinpo, Chinpo, Darling," she said. "I love you, Darling. Don't you remember? So why are you cavorting in a bath tub with--with these alley cats? 
"Hey, watch it, slut," Delilah said. "I'll have you know we're both domestics. Besides, it's a hot tub. That's better than a bath tub."

Meanwhile, as you know, I was just an innocent victim of circumstances.

"Kitsune," I said, laughing. "This is just a little innocent mixed bathing. We were just getting clean, that's all."

"Funny," Gamin said. "I thought we were getting dirty."  

She started to run her hand down my front, but I grabbed it right above the waterline. I peeled her off me and crawled over to the edge of the tub and looked up at Kitsune.

"Is it true? Do you really love me?" I asked.

I didn't wait for any answer. Throwing modesty to the winds, I got out of the tub and wrapped a towel around myself, then walked over to Kitsune and threw my arms around her. She accepted my embrace gratefully, even though I was a little damp.

“This is getting boring,” Delilah said. She got out of the tub, dried herself off and started to get dressed. Her sister followed suit.

This was great! Here I was, reunited with Kitsune at last. I mean the real Kitsune-without all that foxiness. I bent down and gave her a kiss and she kissed me back. It was a great kiss-long and passionate. I think you know what I mean. When it was over, I stared into her eyes and there was a wonderful soft glow in them; and I was pretty happy, myself.

“Now, we can be together forever,” she said, panting a little.

“Yes, forever,” I replied.

“Of course, we’ll have to kill those two,” she said, pointing at Gamin and Delilah.

“Eh?” I said.

“And then we can have a wonderful lover’s suicide.”

Oh boy.

I spoke too soon. You see, the problem with Kitsune is that she isn’t always herself. She has this sort of supernatural multiple personality problem brought on by the fact that she’s possessed by a bunch of fox spirits that have taken up residence in the upper stories of her soul. Master Taro says that in his day it was considered a great honor to be possessed by foxes, because people looked up to the possessed as a great sage due to the fact that the foxes passed along their wisdom through her-the prehistoric stock tips and stuff like that, I suppose. But times must have changed, because these foxes are only interested in making a lot of trouble for me.

Well the upshot of this is that I never know which fox possesses her at any given time. Sometimes she’s a sexy onsen nymph; sometimes the Notorious Panty Thief of Moriyoh; sometimes a swashbuckling female Zorro. Here I was, hoping that I had at last encountered the girl I loved, the real, human Kitsune, but, no, this woman I was holding in my arms was the worst fox of them all–Yandere Fox, who was pathologically jealous of every woman who crossed my path and psychotically in love with double suicides.

“If you don’t mind,” said a familiar, musical voice. “No one’s killing anyone today. What an absurd notion.”

It was CeMell, whom, you may remember, had been in the bathroom, taking a shower. She must have found a hair dryer in there, too, because her fur was all fluffed up, which made her look like she was wearing fuzzy pajamas. She had also exchanged the makeshift binding I’d put on her wound with a proper dressing.

She looked around the room: First at Kitsune and me, then at the two partly unclad cat girls in the corner, who were struggling to get into their clothes.

“Goodness,” she said, placing her hands on her hips and eyeing Gamin and Delilah sternly. “What in Godzilla has been going on out here?”

“Well, you said to take care of him,” Delilah replied, zipping up her skirt.

“Yeah,” Gamin added.

“I see,” CeMell replied. “I should have expected it. You have a way,” she said, eyeing Delilah, “of interpreting orders in a self-serving fashion.”

Delilah merely shrugged her shoulders.

“Nothing happened,” she said.

“Yeah,” Gamin said. “We were interrupted.”

“Dummy,” Delilah said, bonking her on the head.

“Ow!”

It was like some kind of routine the sisters had worked out together.

Then CeMell turned her attention to Kitsune and me, who were still holding each other. I felt kind of embarrassed, being caught by her like this-you know, with just a towel around my waist–although she’d already seen me with less, and she never wore any clothes at all. That time had been perfectly innocent-and so was this time, for that matter. But it didn’t look it.

“Three women. What a remarkably genki young man you must be, Chinpo. But where did she come from?”

“Another one,” Kitsune said, somewhat surprised. “Oh, how faithless you’ve been, Darling! Well, she’ll have to die, too.”

“Will you get off that please?” I replied.

“Maybe you should go put your clothes on, Chinpo,” CeMell said. “They’re dry now.”

“Right,” I replied, adjusting my towel a little and scuttling past CeMell. “Just be careful,” I whispered to her in passing. “She’s a little high-strung.”

CeMell nodded in response.

I entered the bath room and put on my clothes. I was a little concerned about what might be going on out there. Kitsune might at this instant be trying to follow through with her homicidal tendencies, and I would return to find her blood-splattered form standing in front of a pile of corpses. But I wasn’t hearing any screams so maybe everything was okay for the moment.

Okay?

I slumped down on the toilet seat, threw my head back and sighed as the full enormity of this situation started to sink in. Till now I’d been too busy (or drunk) to be scared, and running into Rex had restored my hope for awhile. But now Miss Kuchisake had us all where she wanted us–and what she wanted was my ass in particular to feed to Uzumaki along with my sister.

It was sickening to recall how confident I had been just a little while ago about how Master Taro and I were going to march up here and rid the world of Kuchisake and her demon pal forever. What did we care for her army of cat demons? We were more than a match for them. Well, that is to say Master Taro would have been more than a match for them, but I could have helped. But now he was dead and I didn’t feel so confident any more. And now Kitsune was mixed in with this, as well. I felt scared for her, too, although maybe not as scared as I felt for myself. But, can’t let the girls see that. I stood up, took a deep breath and walked out of the bath room.

When I returned to the other room I found CeMell and Kitsune sitting on the bed, chatting like old school chums. There was something different about Kitsune, which led me to assume she’d turned into someone else. Some other fox, and hopefully someone less lethal than Yandere. I glanced around and noticed that Gamin and Delilah were nowhere to be seen. Had Kitsune done them in, after all?

“I sent them back to the kitchen,” CeMell said. "Mrs. Norris might have come looking for them had they stayed any longer. I instructed them to put together some provisions and wait for us there, for we are going to make our escape through the catacombs momentarily. I know of a way out that hopefully they are not aware of yet. But first I want to ask this delightful young person a few questions.

She smiled and patted Kitsune’s shoulder. Kitsune smiled back at her, which caused me to feel a little pang of jealousy, so I sat down on the bed next to Kitsune and put my arm around her. But she shoved me in the chest and knocked me off the bed.

"Pervert!" she said.  

"But Kitsune is something the matter? I said. "I thought you loved me. You said so just a while ago." 

"Love you?" she said. "Humph, what an idea."

"Well, you did," I replied. "Gamin and Delilah heard you."

"I, too, thought you were Chinpo's lover," CeMell said.

"He may be the foxes' friend, but I hardly know him," Kitsune replied. "Besides, "she added, taking hold of CeMell's hand. "What a marvelously musical voice you have. You know, I sing too. I bet we could make beautiful music together."

"I'm sure we could," CeMell replied, removing her hand. "But there is no time for that now. What is all this about foxes."

"I can answer that," I said, getting to my feet and brushing myself off. I then proceeded to tell CeMell all about Kitsune's affliction.

"So this young woman is en rapport with the spirits, is it?" CeMell said. "How marvelous."

"Yeah, everybody seems to think so except me," I replied.

"The foxes are my friends," Kitsune said.

 And it looked like some other fox had tag-teamed Yandere and was now dominating poor Kitsune's personality. I'd seen it all before.

"So who are you now?" I asked, and silently added: "Please don't say Lesbian Fox."

"I'm no fox," she replied. "I'm Kitsune."

"What's this?" I said, sitting back down on the bed. "The real Kitsune?" I said excitedly. "The real, normal, human Kitsune?"

"If you say so."

"But Kitsune, it's you I love. I've loved you ever since the first time I saw you at the shrine-before I knew anything about the foxes. I don't care about the foxes. I only love you."

"Well, I don't love you, "she replied, turning her back to me. "How many times do I have to say so?"

"Kitsune!" I didn't know what else to say. I've never been a smooth talker, and I was now so exasperated that I turned my back to her and folded my arms across my chest.

"Aww fuck it. That's gratitude for you," I said. "And after all I've gone through for you, too."

"Humph!" she replied, turning up her nose.

"Young love is so wonderful," CeMell said. "But we don't have time for His and Hers Circumstances right now. I need information from you Kitsune-chan."

"Anything, Singer," Kitsune replied eagerly. Too eagerly, if you ask me. Kitsune-chan? Singer? How did these two get so chummy so fast? 

"This is what I need to know: How is it that you managed to find your way here without molestation. This building is heavily guarded by cat men, you know."

I don't know," Kitsune replied. When a fox takes over, I sort of go blank. Sometimes, though, I get impressions of what's going on-vague, like in a dream."

"So you have no idea of how you got here?"

"No, not until a few moments ago, when I found myself sitting on this bed, talking to you.

"Does this happen often?"

"Every time."

"Every time you are en rapport with one of these spirits," CeMell said, nodding. Even on Infant Island we have heard of such things. But isn't it unnerving for you to wake up, so to speak, in a strange place without knowing how you got there?"

"At first it was, yes," Kitsune replied. "But I got used to it. It's exciting in a way, and if I get into a predicament, I trust the foxes to get me out of it. All I have to do is call," she said, holding up her phone.

"Well, you're in a predicament now," I said, turning around to face her and filling her in about the Meow Meows, Kuchisake, Uzumaki and their plans for world domination.

"I know all that already," she replied.

"How?" I asked.

"Mr. Taro told us all about it on the train. Did you know they used to be married?"

"Wait, that's not possible," I replied. "Master Taro is dead."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "He's alive."

"I saw him get blown up by the Tank Police with my own eyes."

"Well, you don't know everything, do you? Mr. Taro get killed? By the police, or anyone else? As if."

"Tell us more about this train," CeMell said. "What were you doing on it?"

"We were on our way to Himeda Ridge. Mr. Taro had it in mind to rid the world of Kuchisake for good and incidentally rescue two women who had been captured by her."

"Yuki?" I asked excitedly.

"I don't think he mentioned their names," she replied.

"Was there just the two of you?" CeMell asked. 

"No, there was another woman, a waitress, who was also a top fighter, and three other people, who got on the train after us."

"What were they like/" CeMell asked.

"Well, both of the men were fat, and one of them was really ugly. The woman was old, but kind of dirty. I didn't like the way she kept licking her lips when she looked at us."

That trio sounded sort of familiar to me, and Kitsune clinched it when she added: "The woman had a bunch of little knives strapped to her leg. She showed them to us, which I thought was a little indecent of her, since she had to hike up her skirt in front of us and all the other passengers on the train."

"Mrs. Katakana!" I said.

"Chinpo? Do you know this woman?" CeMell asked.

I nodded, and told her all I knew about Kenta's mother, and then I remembered what I had overheard when the three of them had come together in the clearing while I was stuck in that tree with Jaki Amano, the Tengu.

"But those are the bad guys," I said. Those are the ones who tried to get both Master Taro and myself bumped off. They're working for Kuchisake."

"Mr. Taro didn't seem to think so." Kitsune said. "They said they were going to destroy Kuchisake, just like us, and that they worked for someone named Iris. Mr. Taro seemed to be familiar with her."

"Chinpo," CeMell said. "Is that name familiar to you?"

I had to think about it. It sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't be sure, so I just shook my head.

"Interesting," CeMell said. "But what about you, Kitsune-chan. What made you join such dangerous company?"

"Well, the foxes thought it would be a good idea. They seemed to feel that something momentous was going to occur, and they wanted to be there to see it. Besides, they also wanted to find him," she said, giving me an icy stare.

It was good to know I was popular with some part of her I guess. But Master Taro was alive? That was good news indeed. I was beginning to feel some of my old confidence returning. But¬Ö

"Where is Master Taro now?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," she replied. "The foxes took over while we were on the train, so I just have vague impressions of what happened next."

"Anything you could tell us would be helpful," CeMell said.

"Well," Kitsune said. She was silent for awhile and seemed lost in thought. "Let's see-we arrived at a train station, where we were met by a little girl who seemed to be a person of some importance in Mr. Taro's eyes. Then I remember getting on a bus, but there was an accident and we went to a place where there were a group of women who were all dressed in black."

"Hmm, that could be the convent halfway down the Ridge from here," CeMell said. "Go on Kitsune."

"Uh, well after that is gets really vague. I remember walking down a tunnel-I think I was with someone. Then there was this big cat, but I turned into a real fox and chased him away. The next thing I knew I was here in this room."

"You know, CeMell," I said. "If Master Taro is still at this convent, maybe we could figure out how to join up with him somehow.  Oh, but what about Rex? Should we try to contact him somehow?"

She frowned.

"Forget about Rex," she said. "Let him rise to the top of this situation on his own-if he can."

I'd forgotten that there was some kind of bad blood between those two. I really wanted to contact Rex, but I wanted to join back up with Master Taro, so I decided to just go along with CeMell for the time being.

"Hmm, we can assume that Kitsune-chan came here via the catacombs, which, I hear, extend as far as the convent," CeMell said. "Could you re-trace your steps, Kitsune?"

"Not me," Kitsune replied. "But I bet the foxes can," she said, holding up her phone. "I'll just call them."

Calling the foxes for her merely consisted of her putting the phone up to her ear and speaking wordlessly into it. Apparently she didn't have to dial or anything. If the foxes had a number, it was unlisted.

From this point, I expected we'd see her personality change as one of the foxes took over, but nothing seemed to happen. She pulled the phone away from her ear and appeared unhappy. 

"Is something wrong?" CeMell asked.

"There's no answer. None at all," Kitsune said. She was clearly upset. "This never happened before. Why don't they answer?"

"Caw, caw," said a voice. "Let me outta here and I'll tell you."

"That's a familiar voice," I said.

"But where's it coming from?" CeMell asked.

"From that bag on the floor," Kitsune said.

Right, Yandere had a bag in her hand, which she dropped to the floor when she showed up, and it lay there, forgotten by all, until now. I went over and picked it up.

"Is that you?" I asked.

"Who else?" it said. "Let me out. It smells funny in here."

I took the bag over to the bed, unzipped it and dumped its contents out on the bed.

A familiar little bird-like form tumbled out onto the bed next to Kitsune, who screamed and grabbed hold of CeMell.

"Well, well," I said, looking down at the prone figure of Jaki Amano the Tengu. "I hoped to never see you again."

"Nice to see you again, pal," he replied. "Man, it's good to be out of there." He sniffed under his wing and made a face. "I smell like old gym socks."

"What is this?" CeMell said. Puzzlement was clearly written on her face, and this was the first time she appeared to be uncertain about anything. 

"This is Jaki Amano, one-time Manzai comedian, currently doing time as a Tengu, since apparently that's what happens to Manzai comedians."

"Only the good ones, kid. Only the good ones. Hel-lo ladies." He said, turning to Kitsune and CeMell and bowing. "Is that your fox girl?" he said to me. "She put me in that bag."

"Is that true, Kitsune?" I asked.

"Maybe," she replied. "I can't remember. I can't think of why I would, either."

"I think it was because you was savin' me for lunch."

"How'd it happen, Jaki?" I asked.

He crossed his legs and sat down.

"Here's how it happened," he said. "I was just minding my own business, when this fox came along and pounced on me. I put up one mighty struggle, I'll tell you, but the vixen was too much for me. Her jaws were clamped tight around my throat and I thought I was a goner for sure. But then the fox turned into that girl over there-hi, babe-and stuffed me in that bag. Say, how come it is you get to transform with all your clothes on without getting naked? It don't seem fair."

"And you've been in that bag ever since?" I asked. "Then why didn't you make yourself known until now?"

"Because fox girl asked a question, and I happen to know the answer."

"You mean," Kitsune asked. "Why the foxes aren't answering my call?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"They're all gone, babe," Jaki replied.

"Gone?" Kitsune said. "Why? What's wrong?" She sounded panicky.

"Oh, they all went to Kami-Con," Jaki replied.

"Kami-Con," I said. "What's that?

"You never heard of Kami-Con? Just the biggest meeting of spirits and lesser deities ever. They're all bent out of shape over this Uzumaki thing, so they're having a big confab over it."

"Will they be back?" Kitsune asked. "My foxes, I mean."

"Depends on who wins," Jaki replied. "Most of them are betting on Uzumaki."

"Well, are they going to help us?" I asked.

"Nah, just betting. I got my money on Uzumaki, too."

"You traitor!" I yelled, picking him up. "I ought to ring your neck."

"Hey, take it easy pal. It's just a bet. I've lost bets before. Besides, what do you expect, I'm a Tengu."

"I am wondering," CeMell said. "How is it that you were able to get around here without being noticed?"

"Except by a fox," Kitsune added. "I should have eaten you."

"Ahh, people can't see Tengus if we don't want them to."

"Except by foxes," Kitsune said maliciously.

"Alright, alright already, lady. I get it."

"That brings us to the question of why you were looking for me in the first place. I though I was finished with you."

"Nay, you forgot your prize, buddy boy." 

He fished around under his wing and produced two dog-eared tickets for Rainbowland in Moriyoh. After my escape from the Tank Police, Jaki had taken me to a Tengu drinking party in a cave. They got me extremely drunk and then offered me a gift. But I had to choose it from one of two caskets. One of them was big and the other one was small. Remembering my folklore, I knew this was a test and it was always wiser to pick the small casket, which turned out to have those two worthless tickets in it. Jaki explained to me that by now so many people knew how that worked that they started putting the good stuff in the big casket.

“You came all this way to give me two worthless tickets that I don’t even want?” I said, grabbing them from him. “Look, they’re expired,” I said, pointing to the date printed on the front.

“Ha! Well, you got ¬ëem now, buddy boy, and you can’t give them back.”

“Waa!” had he tricked me into accepting them after all?

“Look,” he said. “I wouldn’t ordinary do this, but I kinda like you kid. Don’t you know that folklore shows that seemingly worthless objects-old oil lamps and beat-up tinder boxes-usually have hidden powers?”

“You mean these are like magic beans.”

“Beans? Come on, they’re made out of paper. But here’s the thing, as long as you have those, you can instantly transport yourself and one other person to Moriyoh. Get it?”

“You mean I can escape from here?”

“Yeah, as long as you take one other person with you.”

“You mean, like my sister or¬Ö”

I caught Kitsune looking at me with renewed interest.
Yes, I could save Kitsune, and then I’d be her hero. Dare I say there wouldn’t be anything she wouldn’t do for me under those circumstances? But that meant abandoning Yuki to the tender mercies of Kuchisake. And what about CeMell? Could I abandon her with a good conscious? Or Rex?

“Damn it! This is worse than a booby prize. It’s a moral dilemma,” I said, stuffing the tickets in my pocket. I didn’t want them now, but I couldn’t throw them away either. I fell down on the bed, nearly crushing Jaki (which would have served him right) and stared up at the ceiling.

CeMell came over and sat next to me.

“There, there,” she said, patting me. It will be all right. But for now, we should be going. Mr. Jaki, can this ability to avoid notice be extended to people you are with?"

“Funny you should ask,” Jaki replied.

"Then we should go. Chinpo, rouse yourself.

[bamboo]

“THE TIME FOR MASKS IS PAST”

Gamin and Delilah were in the kitchen, polishing silverware, when Mrs. Norris stormed into the room.

“Where are they!?” she shouted. Her ears were twitching and her tail was lashing back and forth like mad. Her eyes were blazing and invisible lightning seemed to crackle around her. Anyone else encountering this vision of fury would be-quite understandably-terrified.

But Delilah, who was wiping a soup spoon with a cloth, glanced at Mrs. Norris indifferently. Gamin, who was sitting next to her and chewing gum, stared vacantly at Mrs. Norris and blew a bubble, which grew quite large before it burst with a loud pop, depositing pink goo all over her chin and nose, which she licked back into her mouth with her tongue and continued chewing.

Delilah yawned and asked: “What’s got your dander up?” Although she knew the reason full well.

Moments before, Gamin and Delilah had been anxiously waiting for the arrival of Singer and the others with some supplies they had hastily put together. The remains of their preparations-open packages and whatnot-lay scattered around the kitchen. There was a chance that Mrs. Norris might ask some uncomfortable questions about that, but Delilah hoped that, in her agitated state, she wouldn’t.

"The prisoners. CeMell and the boy. They're not in their room."

"What's that to us?" Delilah asked.

"You were the last ones to see them," Mrs. Norris replied. 

"So?

"Didn't you remember to lock their door on your way out?"

"Of course we did," Delilah replied. "You locked the door, right?" she said, turning to Gamin.

"Uhh¬ÖI think¬Öso," Gamin said slowly, straining her steam powered brain. The effort to recall made her wrinkle her brow.

"Dummy!" Delilah said, hitting Gamin on the head with the spoon she'd been cleaning "Did you forget to lock the door?"

"Oww! You're mean, big sister!"

"Did you forget?" Mrs. Norris yelled. She reached across and table, and grabbing Gamin by the collar, roughly pulled Gamin to her feet. The upper portion of her body was splayed across the table, scattering the silverware she and her sister had been cleaning onto the floor.

"Waaa¬Ö!" Gamin started to cry, but Delilah rose from her seat and pulled her sister away from Mrs. Norris' rough hands.

"Here, here!" Delilah said. "There's no need for that. She might have locked the door, after all. She just can't remember-that's all. Besides, what does it matter? Even if they got out, they'd only be caught by the guard."

"Well, they weren't," Mrs. Norris replied.

"Maybe he ate them," Gamin said under her breath.

An awkward silence descended over the three women. People-staff members-had started disappearing from the Chateau, and not in the usual way, through the House of Pain. Ever since Kuchisake had taken over, those Meow Meow (along with the girls in the black robes who were called Acolytes) were everywhere-and there were rumors. 

For her part, Mrs. Norris knew the escapees hadn't been eaten by the guard, because she had found his mauled and crumpled body lying on the floor when she had returned to check on the prisoners.  Who, or what, could overpower a Meow Meow and rip him apart like a rag doll? The discovery had disturbed her, with its implications of other powers afoot in the Chateau than the Slit-faced Woman. 

"Don't ever say that!" she said. "Don't either of you say a word about this affair either. Nevertheless, I'm going to have to punish you both for your negligence."

"Hey, don't punish me," Delilah said. "I haven't done anything. If you want to punish someone, punish her," she said, pointing at her sister.

"Big Sister! You're horrible." 

Just then, a black-robed Acolyte entered the room.

Mrs. Norris frowned. She didn't like these Acolytes. To be sure, they served the Mistress, but they were arrogant and undercut her authority. Mrs. Norris had no use for people she didn't have any power over. She also suspected they had something to do with the disappearance of staff members Gamin alluded to earlier. That made her wary of them.

"She wants to see you," the Acolyte said.
"Where is she?" Mrs. Norris asked. Where, indeed?  Kuchisake seemed to always be on the move-sometimes in the Chateau; sometimes below; sometimes¬Ösomewhere else.

"I'm to take you to her," the Acolyte replied.

"Hmmm," Mrs. Norris said. This wasn't satisfactory, but a summons from the Mistress was not to be denied. She decided to follow the Acolyte, but remain wary.

"Alright, take me to her," she replied. "I'll deal with you two later," she said to Gamin and Delilah and followed the Acolyte out the door.

"Do you think we fooled her?" Gamin asked her sister after Mrs. Norris had left.

"Of course," Delilah replied. She put her hands behind her head and leaned back in her chair. This caused her breast to jut forward appealingly. Too bad there was no one around to appreciate the sight, except her sister. "That'll be the day when I can't pull the wool over the eyes of that old bearcat."

"I wish we could have gone with them," Gamin said, referring to CeMell, Chinpo and that shrine maiden who seemed to want to kill her and her sister for no good reason. Gamin wasn't glad to see her, but happy to see her depart as they collected their provisions and departed from the Chateau through the secret passage that led into the catacombs. Oh, and there was that funny little crow man. She wondered where they had found him, but there was no time for explanations.

"Singer told us to stay here," Delilah replied. "We're still undercover. When she wants us, she'll find a way to let us know."

"I hope so," Gamin replied. "I'm getting nervous. Everybody's getting jittery, and I can smell the tension in the air."

Delilah nodded.

Neither of them spoke for awhile after that, and they went back to polishing the silver. But finally Gamin turned to Delilah and said: "By the way, you weren't really going to let Mrs. Norris punish me, were you?"

"Of course not, dummy," Delilah replied.

"Oh, Big Sister," Gamin said, throwing her arms around Delilah. "I love you!"

"There, there," Delilah replied, patting her sister on the back.

Neither of them noticed that they were being observed by a large centipede that was resting on a shelf above them. Most of its body was out of sight, curled around a canister. only its head and long, twitching feelers were visible. After a few moments, it scuttled down the side of the wall and darted into a crack in the floor.


As Mrs. Norris followed the Acolyte, she  remembered her first meeting with the Mistress. It happened during one of her nightly patrols. It was a practice of hers to inspect the grounds; on the lookout for intruders, although the chances of her actually encountering any were slim to none. But Mrs. Norris liked the night. She liked to be out in it. The world was a different place in the dark-a world better suited to her liking: somber, serious, more orderly. The darkness comforted her. It was the perfect antidote to Mistress Sugimoto, whose capriciousness and drunkenness (not forgetting her other proclivities) were hard for Mrs. Norris to bear. She never forgave Ecuador-san for  inflicting that woman on her. Until Sugimoto's coming, Mrs. Norris had run the Chateau quite well herself, so to be subordinated to that¬Öthat¬Ö pervert had been too humiliating. But she never let it show; that was not her way. Mrs. Norris believed in preserving the hierarchy, no matter what. But in order to cope, she took to punishing the staff more and more severely. Certainly Sugimoto had no objections to it. She often sat in and watched while Mrs. Norris stripped a maid and beat her. But little did she suspect that every time she wielded the whip, it was Sugimoto's back she imagined the blows were landing on. 

And, then one night, she met Kuchisake.

The new Mistress was standing in front of the door to the (so-called) House of Pain, holding an old-fashioned paper lantern in one hand and dressed in a black kimono sprinkled with little circles-or spirals-that seemed to glow faintly. Her face was covered by a white surgical mask. "I've been waiting for you," she said. They talked of many things that night: of the coming of Uzumaki and the new world that would bring; a better, well-regulated world--a world that was always dark. "You will follow me from now on," Kuchisake said, and Mrs. Norris replied, "Yes."

The Acolyte led Mrs. Norris up to the second floor and took her into Sugimoto's old room. The Mistress had no need for a room. She never slept or ate and was always on the move. Most of her time was spent down in the catacombs, but she seemed to have a supernatural ability of suddenly appearing whereever she wished. Mrs. Norris didn't doubt it was by magic, since she had long ago decided that the Mistress was not human, but a yokai.

The room was empty, but the Acolyte threw back her hood and called out, "Hey! Where are you? I brought the old lady."

Mrs. Norris smarted at that. Not so much at being called an old lady as much as it  grated on her nerves how rudely the Acolytes all behaved with the Mistress-almost as if they considered themselves her equals. Such scandalous behavior was very offensive. Oh, how she longed to be able to teach these girls a lesson!

"I'm in here," said a voice in the bathroom.

The Acolyte gestured to Mrs. Norris, and they entered the bathroom where the Mistress was bending over a sink, washing her face. Her mask lay neatly folded up on the counter beside her.  Mrs. Norris was taken aback to see Kuchisake, whom she considered supernatural creature, engaged in something as mundane as personal hygiene. Kuchisake turned her head and smiled at them.

Mrs. Norris had seldom see the Mistress without her mask, and never smiling, but it was always unsettling to see those ugly, ragged cuts that extended from both sides of her mouth to her ears. The smile made it worse, because those wounds were full of extra teeth.

Kuchisake straightened up and started to wipe her hands off with a nearby towel. The Mistress was always fully dressed all the way up to her neck and always wore gloves. Her hands, without them, were brown and withered-like the hands of an old woman.

"Thank you for answering my summons so promptly  Mrs. Norris," she said. "You may go now," she said, addressing the Acolyte. 

"Aww, I want to hear about what's happening," the Acolyte replied.

"No, you go," Kuchisake replied.

The girl pouted, but turned and left the room.

Kuchisake shook her head. "These cat girls," she said, and Mrs. Norris was relieved to see that, despite the airs the Acolytes gave themselves, the Mistress didn't encourage them. "Shall we go into the other room and talk?" the Mistress said, and together they went into the main room and sat down in two chairs, facing each other. There was a diminutive figure curled up on what had once been Sugimoto's bed, who Mrs. Norris noticed for the first time. It was that girl, Nanjou, the Mistress had adopted as a sort of pet.

"The little mousies are out of their cages," Kuchisake said.

"Not my fault," Mrs. Norris replied. She started to blame it on the Acolytes, but Kuchisake stopped her.

"No, of course not, Mrs. Norris. I'm not blaming you. I'm sure you didn't gut those poor tomcats, either."

"You know about that then?"

"Not as much as I'd like. Kuchisake shook her head. "Try as I might, I can't be everywhere at once. And what we are planning here-the coming of Uzumaki into this world-is a grand and complicated plan. It just stands to reason that a little sand should get into the machinery. The question is, who is throwing the sand?"

Mrs. Norris shook her head.

"I suspect the hand of my dear husband in this," Kuchisake said.

"You were married," Mrs. Norris replied.

"Once, long ago," the Mistress replied, and the memory seemed to make her eyes water a little. "Such a handsome and entertaining boy he was. Unfortunately, we didn't look at the world with the same eyes. He may have found me out; he has before. But this time I have become too strong for him. I have an army of fierce cat men. If he tries to stop me now¬Ö" Kuchisake made a sign like cutting a throat with her hand.

"But what about the escapees?" Mrs. Norris asked. "Aren't they necessary for the plan to succeed? How will we get them back?"

"Oh, Mrs. Norris, as a cat you surely must appreciate the fun in letting your prey go, only to pounce on it again. We'll find our mousies, you'll see. The only place for them to hide is in the catacombs, and I control it completely-like a rat maze, yes?"

Just then, a large centipede appeared out of nowhere and, crawling up the side of Kuchisake's chair, wrapped around her arm. Mrs. Norris's hair stood on end. Even though she knew it was the Mistress's pet, insects gave her the creeps.

"Ah, Mugabe," Kuchisake said, looking down softly at the arthropod wrapped around her wrist. "I'm so glad you are back." She looked up at Mrs. Norris. "I find it quite hard to function without him, you know."

The centipede wriggled its long antennae, and Kuchisake nodded her head. She seemed to be engaged in a silent conversation with the creature.

"Well, now, that is interesting," she said. "It would seem," she informed Mrs. Norris, "that the boy, at least, is in the catacombs. He escaped there with a small party of companions, including that white-haired cat. What a remarkable woman. We cut off her tail, beat her until she was nearly dead and finally gave her to Dom as a plaything, yet she's still alive-amazing."

Mrs. Norris could do nothing but frown at the news.

"Incidentally, it seems those two scullery maids helped them escape."

"What!?" Mrs. Norris exclaimed. "Gamin and Delilah? I'll kill them!"

"You should," Kuchisake replied, "But first we have other business. I have been so busy that I've quite lost track of those two dog men. What became of them?"

"They are friends of Ecuador-san," Mrs. Norris replied. "So we've been leaving them alone. But we're keeping a close eye on them, of course."

"Very good. But¬Öhmmm¬Ö Ecuador. I think he has about served his purpose, don't you think?" Kuchisake rose up and smoothed the sides of her garment. Mugabe, the centipede, uncurled itself from her wrist and crawled into an opening in her kimono. She started  to go, but Mrs. Norris said: "Mistress, your mask."

Kuchisake turned and smiled at her. She touched her chin, then ran her hands up the sides of her face, then smoothed her hair, a great gout of which came out. She tossed it on the floor and shook her head.

"I think the time for masks is passed."

[bamboo]

STEPMOTHER’S SIN
Part 1: Esther

Midnight. Renai Dori.

A boy and a girl are walking along the deserted street. They have just come out of the Antique Bakery, the only shop still open at this hour. The girl is holding a paper sack in front of her with both hands. The delicious sent of fresh baked goods fills the air. They are both lost in their own thoughts.

"Scary," the girl says suddenly.

“Eh?” the boy replies as a passing car momentarily bathes them in its headlights. Then he adds: “I guess this street does get a little eerie at night. But don’t worry; we’ll be at your house soon, Xallie.”

“It’s not that, Ryo,” the girl says. “It’s that move we saw.”

"What? Zombie Cop?"  Ryo asks.

"I'm sure I'll have nightmares now," Xallie replies.

"Nightmares? But it was a comedy!"

"Not to me."

“What? Not even that scene where the monster squeezes that guy’s skeleton out of his body like toothpaste? That was hilarious.”

"Not to me," she replies, and recalling that scene makes her frown. "Please don't take me to see another movie like that."

"Uh¬Öokay." Ryo is mortified. He really is in love with and doesn't want to lose her. But how was he to know? "Well¬Öwhat kind of movies do you like?" he asks.

But before she can answer, the stillness of the night is was disturbed by a clanking noise in the distance which gets louder and louder as a police tank rumbles into view on the street. It passes by; heading in the opposite direction. Attached to the rear end of the tank is a box-like trailer with windows on its sides. Through the windows they see the faces of several people; all of them nekomimi. Their faces are mostly in shadow, but they are plainly unhappy.

"There must have been a raid," Ryo says.

"Those unfortunate people," Xallie says, shaking her head. "They're being taken away to the camps, aren't they?"

"Yes, Ryo replies. 

“It’s unfair, you know,” Xallie says.

“Yes, it is,” Ryo replies. “But maybe it’s for their own good. Ordinary people are really spooked by this Meow Meow thing.”

"Ordinary people?" Xallie says. "Nekomimi are ordinary people. Just because they have long ears and tails doesn't mean they're not. Think what this is like for them. Dragged Imagine what it must be like for them. You live here all your life-minding your own business-and suddenly your whole life is overturned."

"Yeah, but the media's got people so worked up that most of them aren't making any distinction between Meow Meow and regular, law-abiding cat people. And there have been incidents. Insults, beatings, shop windows broken-that sort of thing."

An awkward silence descends on them. Ryo senses that he’s not making Xallie feel any better. “From what I hear,” he says. “The camps are pretty nice.” But even to him, that sounds stupid.

"But they're not home, are they?" Xallie replies. "What happens when it's over? Will they still have homes to return to?"

"Umm¬Öprobably not," Ryo says, shaking his head. "From what I hear somebody's buying up all their property and¬ÖHey, wait a minute." Something suddenly struck him. "Wasn't that Eri?"

"Eri? Where?"

"In that trailer back there." I'm sure I saw her face in one of the windows."

"You saw her?"

"I'm¬Önot sure. It was dark in there. But it makes sense. They're rounding up all the cat people they can find, so why not her, too?"

"Well, if we don't see her in school tomorrow, we'll know for sure," Xallie says.

"Yeah, I guess so. You know, now that I think about it, I haven't seen Yuki lately."

"Yuki? What made you think about her?"

"Well, she's Eri's friend."

“Ryo,” Xallie says suddenly. “Do you still like Yuki?”

"What?" he replies. "I never liked her. She's just some pest who wouldn't leave me alone. You're the only one for me, Xallie."

"Good," she replies quietly, smiling. But deep inside she's disappointed. Competitive by nature, she would be happy if there were some rival for Ryo's attention that she could fight against. Come to think of it, wasn't he friendly with that school nurse who went crazy and chopped up all those people? No! That idea is too icky. "You know," she says. "Nanjou and her mean girls haven't been around lately, either."

"No loss there," Ryo replies. "But that new English teacher hasn't been showing up for class, either."

"The dog man?"

“Yeah,” Ryo replies. “I kind of liked him. I wonder what the matter is.”

“Do you think there’s any connection?” Xallie asks.

Ryo shrugs. "I don't know, but there sure have been a lot of strange things going on lately."

"Oh!" Xallie says.

"What?" Ryo asks.

"I'm cold all of a sudden," Xallie replies, trying to hug herself and hold on to the package at the same time.

"Here," Ryo says, putting his arm around her.

The warm summer night has suddenly turned cold and a thick mist has come up out of nowhere.

"Odd," Ryo thought. "It never gets foggy this time of year."

Soon, the fog is so dense that they can’t see a thing, except for a shadowy figure that appears to be approaching them. Xallie coughs and Ryo finds he’s having trouble breathing.

Dawn is breaking over the Renai Dori and Ken Aikawa, Moriyoh's Crime Scene Investigator watches as the sun rises over the buildings, chasing away the shadows of the night-except where he is. He's holding a black leather bag that he got as a present long ago in one hand and cup of coffee in the other. He got the coffee from the Antique Bakery, which was the only place on the street he could find open this early. He is standing in a dark alley with two other police officers. One of them is stretching crime scene tape across the entrance to the alley. The other, a portly man with a crew cut, is talking to Ken.

"You the CSI man?" he asks.

"I'm Aikawa," Ken answers, taking a sip of his coffee. "Just got here."

 "Yamamoto, Homicide," the portly man replies.

Ken is surprised. "Homicide? You? What happened to Etsuji?"

"I'm filling in." Yamamoto replies. "He had to go out of town unexpectedly."

Takes another sip of coffee. Probably chasing after that nutty assistant of his, he thinks. The one who got herself suspended and left town. Could he have fallen for her? Why not? Etsuji was as ugly as sin, but ugly guys need love too. 

"What do you think?" Yamamoto asks, encompassing the alley with a wave of his arm. There are dark stains that reek of blood all over the floor of the ally and on one of the adjoining walls right above a tarp covering something lumpy. Two things lumpy. 

“What a mess, huh?” Yamamoto says. “You know, this used to be such a nice, quiet town. Stuff like this never used to happen.”

"Yeah," Ken replies. "My job used to be about the same level as the janitor's. There was never much to it. In fact, I used to do most of my ‘investigating' with a broom."

"Well, you're gonna to need a mop for this one," Yamamoto replies. "Want to see the bodies?"

Ken nods, "Place to start," he replies.

They go over to the tarp. Ken puts his bag down while Yamamoto pulls the tarp away to reveal the bodies of a boy and a girl. Their clothes are sopping and stained dark crimson."

"People sure do have a lot of blood in them, don't they? Yamamoto says.

Ken nods in agreement as he takes a pair of blue plastic gloves from his bag and pulls them over his hands.  Next, he gets a painter's dusk mask and snaps it over his mouth.

Ken knells down and starts examining the bodies.

"Any idea when this happened?" he asks.

"Real good idea," Yamamoto replies." See that bag?" he says, pointing to a crushed and bloody paper bag on the ground next to the girl. "Full of some kind of fancy French pastries-ruined now though," he adds regretfully. "It's from that fancy donut shop down the way."

"Antique Bakery?" Ken asks absentmindedly and he paws the bodies.

"Yeah," Yamamoto answers. "Well, it never closes, see. So I went over there and asked them if anyone there remembered a boy and girl coming into the shop last night. There was this one guy-a sissy named Carl-who remembered them and when they came in-just before midnight. Also, there was a raid last night. One of the Tank Police was out rounding up cat people-you know how these cats like to come out at night. I guess they think no one will notice them prowling around in the dark."

"That's how they are," Ken replies. "It'd be better if they'd just give themselves up voluntarily." 

"Yeah, better for everyone," Yamamoto says. "Keep those damn tankers at home, too."

The Moriyoh Tank Police Corps was the brainchild of Tetsujin Saitama, a local politician and businessman (with possible Yakusa connections) who created and financed the Corps. Few people in town thought Moriyoh had any need or such a heavily-armed police unit until the Meow Meow thing happened. But now his critics were mostly silent, although there was a great deal of resentment toward them among the regular police. (Except for those who were also on Saitama's payroll, of course.)

"Anyway." Yamamoto continued. "The driver also noticed them. They were walking along the sidewalk as she passed, and at first she thought they might be a couple of strays."

"They weren't," Ken asks.

"Naw."

Then where are their heads?"

"In that cooler over there. Wanna see them?"


Later that day, Ken was in Dirty Haru, sitting at a table with Yamamoto and two other officers, drinking shochu and smoking cigarettes.

Dirty Haru is the name of a bar located at the end of a dirt lane in what’s left of the old shitamachi of Moriyoh. Most of it was torn down with the post-war expansion of the Renai Dori, but some of it-like this unnamed lane-still survives in places around town. In contrast to the more fashionable shops that line the Renai, this street is the home of various ramshackle noodle stands, old book stores, junk shops and fronts for herbal medicine sellers and fortune tellers. It’s a lively, crowded place, despite the fact that no self-respecting citizen of Moriyoh would be caught dead there, which makes it the ideal place for a bar that caters mostly to policemen conducting official business unofficially.

“Draw any conclusions?” Yamamoto asked.

“Meow Meow,” Ken replied. “Who else could it be?”

“Well, I’ve told the media that it was another attack by the Maniac Nurse.”

"How come? Ken frowned. “Why lie?”

“Well, it’s this way,” Yamamoto answered, lowering his voice. “People are spooked by this Meow Meow thing. Saitami¬Ö” He looked around to see if there was anyone else listening to their conversation. “Saitama has people spooked. Even there was only one incident-six months ago at that karaoke bar he owns¬Ö”

“And nobody was hurt,” added another one of the men at the table.

“Because Etsuji’s nutty girlfriend stopped them in their tracks,” said another. “Who carries tear gas around like its eau de cologne?”

Yamamoto chuckled.

“Yeah.” But, like I’m saying, Saitama has everyone riled up over the Meow Meows. He’s the one who got the City Council to put the neko’s in the camps¬Ö"

“Which he owns,” said the other man.

Yamamoto looked at him.

“Do you mind? I’m trying to make a point here.”

“Sorry, Boss,” he replied. “Just trying to help,” he said, taking a drink.

“Right,” Yamamoto said. “So he’s making money by locking up an unpopular group of outsiders and using a front to buy up their property. And, incidentally, finding something for that stupid tank corps of his to do¬Ö”

Yamamoto stopped abruptly as someone passed by their table. Moriyoh’s police department was no more or less corrupt than any that of any other city in Japan, but half them, including many of the higher-ups were loyal to Tetsujin Saitama, so it wasn’t a good idea to be too openly critical of him.

“In short,” Yamamoto said as soon as the passerby was gone. “I don’t want to give him the chance to start another panic. He might try to put all the neko’s in gas chambers next, for all we know.”

“That seems far-fetched, even for him,” Ken replied. “But why the Nurse?” She hasn’t been heard from in so long-probably out of the country by now."

“She’s popular, you see.”

“What?”

“Yeah, she’s a fuckin’ folk hero now. There are even tee shirts. Besides, dismembering’s her thing. If people think the Nurse did this, they’ll just shake their heads and smile. ¬ëAtta girl’ they’ll say to themselves.”

Ken hardly thought so.

“No,” he said. “That’s too dishonest. This was obviously a Meow Meow attack. We’ve got to let people know that.”

“How do you know it was a Meow Meow attack?” Yamamoto asked.

“Well, it just obviously was,” Ken replied.

“Well, since when to Meow Meow cut off people’s heads?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Ken replied. “How do we know what they do or don’t do? Until now they were just characters in the history books.”

Yamamoto lit a cigarette and took a puff.

“If they were head hunting, why didn’t they take the heads with them-where ever they went.”

“Maybe somebody startled them,” Ken replied.

“Nobody startled them,” Yamamoto replied. “Gimmie,” he said, turning to one of the other men who produced a manila envelope. “Coroner’s report,” he said, handing the envelope to Ken.

“Coroner’s report?” Ken said, opening the envelope and removing the contents. “That was fast.”

“Doc found this case pretty stimulating,” Yamamoto replied. “The old necrophile jumped right on it, you might say.” He laughed.

Ken picked up the report and started to read.

“I highlighted the interesting parts,” Yamamoto said.

“Hmm, there was some kind of gas in the victim’s lungs?”

“Yeah,” Yamamoto said. “Not poison, but powerful enough to cause suffocation. But the really interesting part is what happened to the heads.”

Ken read further on.

“¬Ösurgically precise holes in their foreheads? What’s that about?”

“It seems whoever did this was after the victim’s brains-or at least a part of them. See? Near the bottom of the page¬Ö” Yamamoto leaned over and pointed.

“Pituitary glands?” A puzzled expression crossed Ken face. “They took their pituitary glands?”

“Doc says they were sucked out,” Yamamoto said.

“What in the world for?” Ken asked.

“Aren’t they supposed to keep you young?” one of the other men asked.

“That’s monkey glands,” said the other. “The pituitary gland is like your third eye.”
“What? No way?”

“It’s a part of the endocrine system,” Ken said, but that didn’t seem to mean much to the other two. “How come you got this report before I did?” he asked Yamamoto.

“First come, first served,” Yamamoto replied. “Besides, I’m the detective”

“And I’m just the janitor?” Ken replied.

Yamamoto shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “Our jobs overlap,” he said.

“So do you really think this is Komegura’s doing?”

“No, not really, but it’s plausible. Meow Meow are just mindless, destructive beasts (so they say), while this this attack seems to have had a purpose behind it.”

“Organ harvesting?” one of the other detectives suggested.

Ken was about to state the only other possibility: that there was some other maniac, besides Komegura, running loose in Moriyoh, when there was a commotion in the bar and all of the men at the table (along with everyone else in the bar) looked up to see what was going on.

Dirty Haru, as has been stated, was a bar that was mostly patronized by policemen and few others even knew how to find it, but the woman standing in the doorway was most assuredly not a policeman.

She was tall, with long legs and a generous bust. She was of an indeterminate age, but could have been some celebrity or fashion model. She had on a sleeveless, full-length, low-cut white dress, with white gloves on her arms that went up over her elbows. She had a round, wide-brimmed hat (also white) on her head, out of which stuck two long pink and white rabbit ears. Something like her had never been seen in Dirty Haru before, and probably not in the town of Moriyoh, either. Most of the men observing her were goggle-eyed, with their tongues practically sticking out. The other women in the bar were somewhat miffed.

The heels of her white shoes clicked out a staccato rhythm and she walked into the bar, smiling and everyone she passed, until she came up to where Ken, Yamamoto and the two others were sitting.

“Hello, Ken,” she said, and her voice was as beautiful as her body. “Long time no see.”

The other men at the table were excited, but Ken looked like he had been struck in the face.

“Esther,” he said, frowning. “Why are you here?”

“Aww, can’t I just want to visit my little Ken-chan?” she replied, patting him on the head, which elicited some hearty laugher from the other men.

Ken batted her hand away.

“No, really? Why are you here?”

“Oh, Ken,” she said looking down. Ken’s bag was on the floor near his feet, and she bent over to pick it up, giving everyone at the table a brief, but exciting, view of her cleavage. “You still have the bag I gave you. How sweet.”

Ken stood up abruptly, snatched the bag away from her. “It’s useful,” he said. Sliding his chair back, he grabbed her by the wrist. “We need to talk in private,” he said.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friends?” she asked, her voice trailing away as he dragged her across to room to a booth in a remote corner.

“Damn,” I wish he’d introduced us," said one of the detectives."

“Yeah,” replied the other. “Can it be that our Ken Aikawa, the Legendary Faithful Husband, has fallen?”

“And with a bunny girl yet.”

“That’s no good,” Yamamoto said, taking a drink. He had a very serious expression on his face. “They’re no good-all thieves and worse. If Aikawa’s mixed up with one¬Ö” He let his voice trail off.

“Might be worth it, though,” the other detective said. “I hear they fuck like, well, bunnies.”

“Yeah, and you know what I heard?” the third man said. “Their saliva is like an aphrodisiac. Only it only works on women.”

“Where’d you hear that?” the first one asked.

“I read it in a sports magazine,” the other replied.

“The tabloids?” the first one said, snorting. “You believe that crap? Remember when they were running all those incest stories about mothers sleeping with their sons? Pure lies.”

“They were? Huh! How old do you think she is anyway?”

“Who knows? Could be anything. They never show their age, I hear. Something genetic.”

The other one nodded

Yamamoto, meanwhile, was silently drinking, while watching Aikawa and the woman off in the corner. Aikawa seemed agitated. His unheard words were apparently forceful and angry. The woman, on the other hand, simply smiles and replied calmly. At length, Ken seemed to give in to something, for he slumped back in his seat and bowed his head. Then they both got up and walked back to the others.

“Well then I’ll see you later Ken. Gentlemen, it was nice meeting you. Sorry I don’t have any time to visit with you, but I have business to attend to, Jaa na.”

And she walked away, her heels clicking.

Ken dropped into his seat without saying a word.

“Hey, Aikawa!” said one of the detectives. “Who was that lady?”

“That was no lady,” Ken replied. “That was my mother.”

[bamboo]

STEPMOTHER’S SIN
Part Two: Umiko

.

“Your mother?” Yamamoto asked.

"Stepmother, actually," Ken explained. 

"Wow!" said one of the detectives. "Lucky you!" 

Ken's face grew dark. "No," he said, taking a drink. "You're wrong there."

"I could see you weren't happy to see her," Yamamoto said. "What's the matter? Sons and mothers should get along."

Ken looked at him strangely "That's just what she used to say. But she's not my mother, you see. My real mother died when I was still an infant. Esther was just a mistake my father's in his old age. Look, can we change the subject and just get back to business?"

"No," Yamamoto said, re-filling Ken's glass. "I'm curious. Put it down to my detective's instincts. She looks familiar. What did you call her-Esther? Would that be as in Esther Buni?"

"How did you know?" Ken asked a little startled.

"Like I said, I'm a detective," Yamamoto replied, airily waving his hand. "It's my business to know these things.

The others around the table also looked questioningly at Yamamoto. They were detectives, too, but they hadn't had a clue. "So¬Öis she famous or something?" one of them asked. "Like a movie star?" 

"Yeah," another one said. "Like maybe she's wanted somewhere.

"Wanted by me, ha ha," said the third detective.

Yamamoto shot them all a poisonous look. "Hey, that's Aikawa's stepmother we're talking about-show some respect. She happens to be a famous Tokyo fashion designer and photographer. Models sometimes too. You see her in the fashion magazines all the time."

"Yeah. She always liked to put her ego right out there," Ken said in a low voice--more to himself than the others.

"You read fashion mags?" one of the detectives asked Yamamoto with a grin. "Still waters run deep, eh?

The others laughed.

"Hey, it's not what you think," Yamamoto said defensively. "It's the wife who reads them. There's always a stack of ‘em in the benjo and--well, since there's nothing else to do…" 

But the vision of the burly and gruff Yamamoto sitting on the pot, paging through an an or Nihon Cosmo was just too funny for words to the other detectives, and they all laughed uproariously.

"Idiots," Yamamoto said in response, and dismissing them he turned back to Ken. "So why is the stepson of a famous woman like that languishing in a backwater like Moriyoh, when he could be living it up in Tokyo? I'm sure she has all sorts of connections and could set you up pretty good."

"Connections always come with string attached," Ken said. 

"So they do," Yamamoto replied, nodding. "Well, suit yourself. But, look, I don't mean this as an insult to your stepmother or anything, but it's been my experience that these bunny girls are no damn good. They're all thieves-or worse."

"Hey," that's Aikawa's mother you're talking about there," one of the detectives said-throwing Yamamoto's earlier words back at him-setting off another round of laughter among the detectives.

"Idiots," Yamamoto said.

"No offense taken," Ken said-even though it was an insult. "I'm a little surprised though. From the way you've been talking about the nekos, I had the impression that you were some kind of kemonomimi lover."

"It's not what you think," Yamamoto replied. "In fact, I wish all the mimis would just leave Japan and go back to Meowtis."

“Except for the inumimis,” said one of the detectives. “They could stay. Those dogs make good cops.” And the others agreed with him.

“What I was saying,” Yamamoto continued, “is that their presence in this country is nothing but trouble-both for them and we Japanese. I just dislike Saitama more than I like the mimis. And I hate the way he’s exploiting the current situation for his own personal ends-scapegoating the nekos and all that. I may not like the mimis, but that’s just me. It’s a free country and all and I’m entitled to my opinion, just like everyone else. But I have to respect that they have their rights, too, and to act upon my prejudices would be unjust.”

"Live and let live, eh?" Ken replied. "I don't know if you'd find many that would agree with you."

"I suppose not," Yamamoto agreed, "But I'm just trying to live by the precepts," 

"You're a devout Buddhist?" Ken asked.

"Not really," Yamamoto replied

Ken was silent for a minute. He looked Yamamoto in the eyes and then swept his glance around the table at the others. Finally he said to Yamamoto: “Look, you said these bunny girls are all thieves or worse. Well, believe me, they’re worse. Seeing her just now brought back some memories-ugly memories that I’d hoped I’d forgotten. But now they’re back and I can’t dislodge them unless I spill my guts. But if I do, I want you-I want all of you-to promise me to never repeat a word of what I have to say to a single soul.”

“Of course,” Yamamoto replied, “What’s said in Haru stays in Haru.”

Ken was eighteen years old when he saw Esther for the first time.

He had just finished his homework and had gone out into the courtyard with his soccer ball for a little practice when he noticed a figure sitting on a bench under the peony tree at the end of the garden. She was wearing a long white dress that, in Ken’s imagination, made her seem like the white peony blossoms above her that waved so elegantly in the breeze. The most striking thing about her, however, was her ears. They were long and stuck up above her blonde hair. They were white on the outside and pink inside. She was stroking one of them and smiled when she saw Ken and motioned for him to come closer.

"Hello, she said. “You’re a fine-looking boy. What’s your name?”

Ken was a little put out at being addressed as a boy, but that was overwhelmed by fascination; he had never seen an usamimi before, except on television. On top of that, he had always been shy around strangers and this one seemed to make him especially nervous.

“I-I’m Ken,” he stammered out.

“Hello, Ken,” she replied. “I’m Esther. I see you like to play with balls. Well, I like to play with balls, too.” She leaned toward him and looked into his eyes. “Maybe you’ll let me play with yours sometime, heh, heh.”

Her laugh was low and throaty. Ken felt she had made some kind of private joke at his expense, the way grown-ups sometimes do. He started to sweat.

“Uh¬Öwhat are you doing here,” he asked.

Just then he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see his father standing next to him, smiling broadly. Ken’s father, Sukebe Aikawa, was the head of the Aikawa Financial Group, a large zaibatsu centered in the town of Kobe where Ken lived in a fine house with his father and a few servants. Ken never knew his mother. She had died when he was very young. He had no memory of her, but there were pictures all over the house. Most of them depicted a pretty, dark-haired woman with calm eyes. She appeared to be very young in most of them. There was even one of her in a school uniform, and Ken’s father had once admitted to him that she had been very young-much younger than he-when they had married. But there was also a picture of her as a slightly older woman, holding a baby in her arms and beaming at the camera.

“I see you’ve met Esther, Ken,” his father said.

“I was just enjoying your garden when this young man appeared,” Esther said. “So handsome. But it’s clear where he gets his good looks.”

Ken looked at his father, who was in his late fifties and balding. He had a paunch and a heart condition. Not handsome at all in Ken’s opinion, but his father was rich and powerful and Ken was used to hearing people pay him insincere complements.

“Esther is a fashion designer, Ken,” Masou said. “I’ve recently acquired her firm. And there’s something else¬Ö” He hesitated and broke out into an even bigger grin than before. “We’re engaged. Esther is going to be your new mother. What do you think of that?”

Esther rose up and bowed at the Aikawas, father and son. “Please take good care of me,” she said.

The wedding wasn’t set to happen for many months yet, which gave Ken time to sort out his feelings about his father re-marrying and to get a crush on Esther. She had set up a studio in the Aikawa residence where she designed her clothes, which gave Ken the opportunity to hang around her like a lovesick puppy. (It also meant that she and his father were already sleeping together, but he tried not to think about that).

He tried hard to hide his feelings, but every once in a while they slipped out. Sometimes when they were together-in her studio or the garden-he would start daydreaming and when she spoke to him, he would answer her with a dreamy, “Yes-s?” It embarrassed him.

As for Esther, she would frequently pat him on the head, run her fingers through his hair, or give him a hug.

“I know I’m still a stranger to you,” she would say. “But I hope that you’ll soon come to accept me as your new mother. Mothers and sons should get along, don’t you think?” Then she would kiss him on the forehead and he would turn a bright red. He would often get a tremendous erection on these occasions, which he couldn’t always hide from her. But she would just laugh slyly and turn back to her work.

Of course Ken’s friends got wind of what was going on. How could they not?
They were all in love (lust) with Esther, too, and a little envious of Ken. “Man, have you done it with her yet?” they would ask-though hardly having any idea of what ¬ëit’ was themselves.

“No!” Ken would reply. “What are you thinking? She’s going to be my mother.”

“So what?” one of his more worldly friends once replied. “You’re not blood related. And even if you were, how could you keep your hands off her?”

“Because it’s just not done,” Ken answered back.

“You think so?” his friend replied and offered him a DVD called “Education Mama’s Private Sex Lesson.” On the cover was a photo of a woman in her thirties or forties posing nude in front of a teenage boy who was sitting behind a desk piled with schoolbooks. Ken gasped and asked, “Where did you get this?” But he took it anyway and spent many private hours masturbating to it until his friend asked for it back. Naturally, he fantasized that the woman in the movie was Esther. It made him feel ashamed and dirty, but he couldn’t quit.

About a week before the wedding, Ken walked into Esther’s studio to find her with a woman-another usamimi-whom he’d never seen before. They were conversing spiritedly-laughing and waving their hands around. In front of them there was a tray loaded with carrots and occasionally they would pick one up, nibble on it and comment on the taste.

In contrast to Esther, who always wore white, they other woman was dressed in a brown outfit that had a military look to it, although it bore no insignia. She was brown, too, with a deep tan that signified someone who spent a lot of time outdoors.

When Esther noticed that Ken had entered the room, she beckoned him to come closer and when he did she put her arm around his waist and held him tight. “Ken this is Charlotte Buni-Yeager, my sister. And Shari, this is Ken, my son. I already think of him as my son, don’t I, Ken?”
A drop of sweat poured down his face and the swelling in his pants made him shift his torso uncomfortably. “I-I guess so,” he stammered.

“Ha ha,” Esther said. “Ken, sweetie, we were just having a carrot tasting. It’s an old custom between us.”

“Don’t you like carrots, Ken?” Charlotte asked. “A fine young man like you should get lots of healthy foods and carrots give you stamina, as well as improve your eyesight.” Then, turning to Esther, she said enigmatically, “How is it?”

“Oh, no no!” Esther replied. “I don’t like them this green. There’s plenty of time.”

Ken thought they were talking about the carrots.

“Ken,” Esther said. “Shari, here is a famous ace flyer, you know; a veteran of the Punitive Action against the Meow Meow.”

Charlotte smiled and nodded her head in acknowledgment.

The Punitive Action-the war against Beast Dom and to return the Cat God to his throne-had only recently ended, but Ken had followed the news reports and learned a little about it in school. But he had never heard anything about flyers. “I never knew the Meow Meow had an air force,” he said.

“They didn’t,” Charlotte replied. “That was the beauty of it. You could just fly low over them and take pot shots with your rifle. Some of the smarter ones, though, could operate artillery, which was annoying.”

“Now that the war’s over, Shari’s been decommissioned from the Service, and she’s casting about for a new career. Isn’t that right, sis?”

“Yep,” Charlotte replied. “But not anything girlie, like this stuff.” She replied, picking up one of Esther sketches and crooking her head as she turned it sideways and upside down. I’ll keep flying, of course, but I think I’d like to race cars, too. Speed, that’s my thing."

“Wonderful!” Esther said, letting go of Ken and clapping her hands together. “Maybe I could get Mr. Aikawa to help you with that.”

They had a traditional Shinto wedding. The bride wore a beautiful kimono she designed herself (white, of course) with the customary headdress to hide her horns-or her rabbit ears in this case, and afterwards there was a reception, attended by the groom’s friends and his business associates, who came mostly to pay homage to the groom. The only member of the bride’s family present was her sister, Charlotte, who, true to form, who was dressed in a brown military uniform. She had admirers among the male guests who clustered around her as she regaled them with her war stories.

Ken hung back in the shadows. A number of spare chairs were lined up against a far wall. Ken sat down on one and watched the party from a distance, nursing a beer and brooding. He admitted to himself that he was jealous, but now that they were married, he just had to get over his unseemly infatuation with Esther.

“May I sit here?” someone said.

Ken looked up and saw a girl in a yellow dress standing next to him. Before he could even reply though, she sat down in the chair next to his. She looked to be about his age. Her long black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, tied with a red ribbon. She wore large, round glasses that gave her face a sort of owlish appearance and around her neck was a thin gold chain with a silver pendant representing a seagull in flight…

“Hi, my name’s Umiko,” she said as she seated herself. “But you can call me Fish; everyone does.” She smiled, revealing a cute little snaggle tooth peeking out of the corner of her mouth.

“Why,” Ken asked, not that he cared.

“¬ëCause that’s my name,” she replied, apparently not noticing his frosty behavior. “Sakana Umiko. Get it? My family name is Fish. That used to bother me back in school. Especially during morning role. The whole class would crack up when the teacher called my name. But I got used to it and learned accept it. I also learned Aikido. Got pretty good at it too, you know,” she said leaning back with her hands behind her back (thus thrusting her breasts forward in a manner Ken found unable to ignore). “It just goes to show you that to get people’s respect, sometimes you have to beat them up. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ken replied, taking a sip of beer.

“Can I have some?” she said, sitting up straight and stretching out her hand.

Ken started to refuse, but reconsidered and offered her the bottle.

“Thanks,” she said, taking a generous swig. “Ahhh, that’s good. I’m underage, you know, so no one else here would let me drink. But you looked like an easy mark, tee hee. What’s your name, by the way?”

“I’m Ken.”

“Hi, Ken,” she replied. So what brings you to this rancid affair? I didn’t want to come myself. But daddy insisted. He runs one of Aikawa’s smaller businesses. The smallest. He came here to pay his respects to Aikawa-sama. Although personally I was against it. I tried to tell him that since we were such a small part of the Aikawa Empire that we’d never be missed. Or, worse, noticed. But he insisted, so here we are."

“You’re sort of a blabbermouth,” Ken said.

“Am I?” she replied. “I’ve never noticed.”

“What does your father do?” Ken asked.

"Salvage. And the proper question is “what do we do? Because I help out, you see. I’m an excellent diver. And there’s just the two of us, anyway. I told you it was a small business.”

"So then your company is named ¬ëFish Salvage?’ Ken said. “Doesn’t that confuse potential customers?”

“You mean do they think we salvage fish? That’s very funny. The sign above our office door just says ¬ëSalvage,’ so nobody gets confused at all. But what do you think of this sordid affair?” Umiko asked, waving her hand around. She handed the bottle, which was empty, back to Ken. “Just look at that shameful woman up there.”

At the other side of the hall, Esther was up on stage with a microphone conducting an impromptu karaoke session. All the guests were crowded around it, cheering. Ken looked around for his father and found him sitting by himself, laughing tipsily and clapping along with the rest of the crowd.

“What a pathetic old man,” Umiko said. "Whatever could have possessed him to enter into such a ridiculous union? I guess his hormones are trying to make one last rally, eh? And she obviously just married him for his money. So doesn’t that make her a sort of prostitute, don’t you think?

“That happens to be my father you’re talking about there,” Ken replied. “And my stepmother. Where do you get off saying those things about my family, anyway? You’ve got a sharp tongue, and you’re pretty rude. So doesn’t that make you kind of a bitch?”

“You’re his son?” Umiko replied, her eyes widening. “Wow! Is my face red! Pardon, pardon,” she said, bowing her head once or twice. Her behavior was contrite, but Ken caught a bit of a smirk on her face, and she noticed that he noticed. “I really am sorry,” she said, standing up. She started to go, but Ken grabbed her by her wrist and forced her back down onto the chair. “Oww! That hurts,” she said. “I’m warning you, I know Aikido, so watch it! On the other hand, if I beat up the son of Aikawa-sama, it could be bad for business. So I forgive you.” She laughed. “Hey, can you get us another beer?”

“Come on,” Ken said, standing up, still holding on to her wrist. He dragged her to her feet and started across the room.

“Hey, where we going?” she asked. “Are you going ask me to dance? ¬ëCause I’m a really good dancer, you know? Did you ever see that movie about ballroom dancing? I did. It was called ¬ëShall We Dance’ and I saw it about a million times. I’m just like the girl in that movie-graceful and elegant.”

“I’m going to introduce you to Esther,” Ken replied. “So you can judge for yourself what kind of person she is.”

He pushed his way through the crowd until he and Umiko were standing in front of the stage.

“Esther! Hey, Esther!” he said.

Esther was in the middle of an emotive rendition of “Koi no Kisetsu,” but she smiled when she saw him standing there. Her face darkened momentarily and stress lines appeared on her forehead when she saw he was holding hands with some girl. But in the next moment she was smiling brightly again. “Ken, darling, come up here,” she said, stooping down and holding out her hand. There was a wild gleam in her eyes that Ken attributed to the fact that she’d been drinking.

Ken took it and climbed up onto the stage, where she put her arm around his waist and pressed him tightly against her side while leading him in renditions of “Ue wo muite arukou” and “Good Night Baby.” This last song she delivered in a low, sultry voice that was dripping with such eroticism that Ken started getting a little sweaty and he felt a twitch in his groin that he hoped the crowd looking up at them didn’t notice. As for the people in the audience, they had grown completely silent during Esther’s performance and the air was filled with something resembling a restless quietude that was soon followed by a thunderclap of applause-mostly from the male members of the party.

Esther smiled delightedly and bowed one or twice, which meant she had to let go of Ken’s waist. He took advantage of the situation by beckoning to Umiko to join them on the stage. He held out his hand to lift her up, but Esther covered it with hers. “Sorry,” she said. “Family only. Sheri! Come up here and sing with us.” Charlotte jumped up onto the stage and joined her sister in a duet of “Tokino sugi yuku mama ni.”

Ken hopped off and rejoined Umiko.

“Sorry about that,” he said. "She’s usually very friendly. But I think she’s just had a little too much to drink.

“She was friendly to you,” Umiko said sardonically.

“Well, yes, heh heh,” Ken replied with some embarrassment. “Do you want that beer now?”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Umiko replied. “There’s a great okonomiyaki place near here. Why don’t we ditch this place, and go get some?”

At the okonomiyaki place, Umiko’s pancake consisted mostly of salmon and cheese, topped off with mayonnaise, while Ken opted for a more traditional Kansai version of shredded cabbage, nagaimo and beets, slathered with Bulldog sauce. While they ate Ken tried to make a case for Esther.

“Are you in love with her?” Umiko asked.

“No, of course not,” Ken lied. “She’s my stepmother.”

“Well, she’s got something for you. Everyone could see that. It made me blush the way she carried on up there. I hope you lock your bedroom door at night or something could happen.”

In point of fact, the Aikawa residence was a traditional Japanese-style house; the rooms were equipped with sliding panels, instead of doors, and Ken always left his opened a crack, hoping Esther would catch him masturbating on his bed some night and be intrigued.

“Well, they’re going away on an extended honeymoon at a resort overlooking the Southern Ocean, so I should be safe for a while,” he said.

“If you’ve got some time on your hands,” Umiko replied. “How would you like to go sailing?”

“Sailing? Like on a sailboat? I’ve never been sailing.”

“What!” she said. “You live in Japan’s fourth largest seaport, and you’ve never been sailing. What are you? A hikikomori or something?”

Ken shrugged.

“I could take you sailing sometime,” Umiko said. “It would be fun. Look¬Ö” she dug into her pocketbook and pulled out a business card, which she passed over to Ken. I was a very plain card, containing the word: SALVAGE in bold print and underneath, in smaller lettering: K. Sakana, prop. There was also an address and a phone number. “We’re on pier 4. Next to the marine station. Interested?”

“What does the K. stand for?” Ken asked.

"Kiyohiko. That’s dad’s name. The printer charges by the letter, you know.

Mr. Sakana turned out to be a robust man of middle age, with dark skin and a wrinkled face that bespoke of a lifetime of hard labor outdoors. He treated Ken-as the son of Aikawa-with friendly deference. Umiko was stowing some gear onto her sailboat, which was docked at the end of the pier where Sakana’s office was located. And it did indeed have a sign over the entrance with the word SALVAGE on it. Umiko’s sailboat was floating at the end of the dock next to a much larger ship with a black hull and a tall yellow crane that rose up from the end of its deck. This ship-which was also named Sakana-- was the Sakana Company’s sole asset.

“Where are you kids going?” Mr. Sakana asked.

“I was wondering that, myself, sir,” Ken replied, looking over to where Umiko was bustling around in her boat. She was wearing a pair of white shorts and bikini top and looked quite fetching to Ken’s way of thinking.

“I thought we’d sail over to Osaka for dinner,” she replied.

Mr. Sakana nodded, as if such a voyage was nothing out of the ordinary to him, but Ken said: “Osaka? That’s thirty kilometers away! Won’t it take all day?” He hadn’t counted on his first excursion on the water being so long.

“Well, why else did I ask you to come here so early,” she replied. And in fact the sun had only been up for a couple of hours. "So, come on, lubber. Grab that cooler over there and come aboard.

“Have fun, kids,” Mr. Sakana said as he turned to leave.

Umiko’s boat, which was named ??? (Fish), was a two-masted sloop with a white, fiberglass hull. The sails were mounted near the front and the remaining two-thirds was an open cockpit with benches and navigational equipment of various sorts. Umiko was sitting in the stern, next to the tiller, but she stood up as Ken unsteadily stepped aboard. He slipped on the deck and almost found himself falling off the other side of the boat. “Tricky,” he said.

"You'll get your sea legs soon enough," Umiko replied, taking hold of him. "Now help me hoist the sails, and we'll be on our way."

The Inland Sea of Japan stretches between the main island of Honshu and Shikoku and Kyushu in addition to the island of Awaji. Commerce on the Sea is brisk and they encountered many other boats as they sailed along. They even got caught in the tug wash of a huge container ship once, which made their little craft sway crazily among the waves. Ken almost panicked, but Umiko, who seemed to enjoy the experience, just laughed.

For the most part, though, the trip was pretty uneventful-boring even-- until they pulled into Osaka Bay that evening. Ken felt pretty wobbly when he stepped back onto dry land.

“Well, here we are in Osaka,” Umiko said. “And you know what they say¬Ö”

“No idea,” Ken replied.

“They say: ¬ëin Kyoto, wear kimono till you drop, in Osaka, eat til you drop.’ And the best place for food in Osaka is Dotonbori. So let’s go.”

“I think you’re a little under dressed for downtown,” Ken said, observing that she was still just wearing shorts and a bikini top."

“So I’ll put on a tee shirt,” she replied.

Dotonbori, which runs along the Dotonbori Canal from Dotonboribashi Bridge to Nipponbashi Bridge in Namba, is the place to go for nightlife in Osaka, especially if it involves food. The area is crammed with countless food shops, restaurants and stalls hawking food stuffs of all kinds, and Umiko seemed determined that they were going to hit every single one of them.

"Why not," she said. "You're paying."

They started out with Golden Dragon ramen they bought at the first place they saw and then had takoyaki at Otakoya. Working their way down the street, they stopped briefly to stare up at the Glico Man, before hitting a bunch of other places and finally ending up having beef bowls at Hariju. Ken ate sparingly, but Umiko packed the food in with amazing capacity.

"You're going to get fat," Ken said.

"Never," Umiko replied. "I lead a very active life, you know. Diving really burns off the calories. You should try it."

"No thank you," Ken replied. "My destiny belongs on dry land, I think."   

The sail had been boring and all that eating had been a bit much, too, but when, at midnight, they finally made their way back to the boat, he found himself feeling downright sentimental about this girl. He slipped his hand into hers and she didn't resist, but looked up at him smiling.

They sat together, holding each other, as the sailed back to Kobe. The sea was quiet and a full moon was in the sky. They had very little to worry about the boat, because Umiko had engaged the wind vane gear, which kept the boat on course. Umiko rested her head on Ken's shoulder and sighed. "You know," I do believe I'm falling in love," she said.

Ken made no reply, he just leaned over and kissed her.

It started out innocently enough, but then the passion between them caught fire as their tongues danced around each other. Ken's hand worked its way underneath her tee shirt and came to rest on Umiko's top.

"Wait," she said. 

She pulled away from him and pulled the tee shirt up over her head. Then she unclasped her top and let it fall to the deck. Her breasts were small but perfect-perfect in the moonlight. Ken couldn't take his eyes away from them. "Hey, my face is up here," she teased and fell back into his arms.

They took a cushion from one of the benches and lay down on it. Umiko unbuttoned Ken's shirt and pulled him down on top of her, running her hands up and down his back, caressing each and every muscle. This was all so new to Ken that he hardly knew what to do, so he let his instincts take over. He grasped her right breast in his hand and kneaded it while his mouth descended on the nipple of her left one. Umiko, however, seemed to know exactly what she was doing, and had somehow miraculously slipped out of her shorts and was now just clad in her panties. Somewhere along the way, the wind vane had disengaged itself and they were drifting.

"Take your pants off, too," she whispered in his ear, licking it."

Ken wanted to say, "Yeah," but all that came out of his mouth were a couple of short grunts. All the same, he wanted to take off his pants. He had to take them off, in fact, because, if he didn't-right away-his cock was going to burst right through them like some monster in an old science fiction movie. He was reluctant to leave her breasts alone, but he got up on his knees and unbuckled his pants. He got them down to his knees, but before he could stand up and get them all the way off, Umiko saw a target of opportunity-his cock standing straight out of his boxers-and took it.. She grabbed hold of his cock and lowered her mouth over it.

This was Ken's first blow job, and he wasn't quite sure what to expect. In the movies, the woman giving the man oral sex always seemed kind of ferocious, but Umiko's lips were soft and caressing and her sucking seemed kind of lazy-in a good way. It was the greatest sensation Ken had ever felt in his life. He could feel his climax boiling up inside of him, when the roar of a klaxon and a sudden bright light spoiled everything. He looked up and, squinting, saw that a Marine Patrol boat had pulled up alongside and its spotlight was pointed dead at them.

Umiko gave a screech and scuttled behind Ken, trying to hide in his shadow. Ken, meanwhile, pulled up his pants and-with what little dignity he could summon-- stood facing the other boat. A shadowy figure in a uniform on the deck said through a loudspeaker: "Are you in trouble?"

"Uh, no," Ken stammered out. ""we, uh, were just enjoying the moonlight."

Umiko, who was hiding behind him, thought that was the lamest excuse she'd ever heard.

There was a low chuckle from the other boat. "Well, you can't do it here. This is a busy shipping lane. You could get rammed." Another chuckle.  "You'd better  move on."

"Yes. Certainly. Right away, sir." Ken said, bowing into the darkness.

‘Oh, and one other thing,"  the officer said as the Marine boat shut off its light and started to pull away. "Get a room."

Umiko, meanwhile, had put her tee shirt back on and taken up her post at the tiller. Neither of them spoke for a while. Ken felt terribly humiliated (not to mention unsatisfied), but then Umiko laughed and said:

"That was funny."