An O'Hannah never runs. Even when she probably should.
- Location
- 'Murica
You take a moment to gather your wits before you say anything. The priceless, centuries-old sword you're certain is a family heirloom is sitting in your hand. Your hand that consumed a non-inconsiderable amount of Cheetos earlier in the evening. You washed your hands of course, but still… that sword's probably worth more than you'd make in several years.
"Uh," you look around. None of the girls seem to have noticed anything's amiss. Sakura's added a few touches to her castle—a castle that looks just like the one you were just fighting in, although more classically Japnese instead of kinda-sorta-western. Mayumi's fast asleep by your side, and Azami's focusing intently on her watercolors. If any of them even noticed you nodded off for a moment, they weren't showing it.
Part of you wants to just walk up to the mantelpiece as quietly as an unnecessarily large Gaijin girl could, put the sword back just the way you found it, and pretend like none of this ever happened. But another part of you knew that would be wrong. If Mr. Miyagawa noticed something was wrong—which he probably would. You didn't think you could get the ceremonial display just right—he might blame his daughters. You couldn't let them take the heat like that, it was against everything you stood for.
Also, you couldn't even if you tried. Mayumi had decided your breast was her pillow now. And as thankful as you were that at least someone was getting some pleasure out of the overly-stuffed fatbags you had to haul around everywhere… she was on there pretty tight. Like some kind of adorable barnacle.
"Azami?" you looked over to the eldest girl. Hopefully you'd get something useful out of her.
"Morga-chan?" The little painter squinted at her watercolors, but didn't look over to you just yet. "Is it bedtime?" she said, furiously trying to finish her painting in time.
"Uh… no," a quick glance at your watch confirmed you still had a half-hour or so before you had to tuck them in. "Did… this is gonna sound really weird… do you know how this sword got in my hand?"
"Sword, I—" Azami gasped and stared at you. "You'renotsupposedtotouchthat!"
You winced. You thought as much… you were going to be in trouble. Huge huge trouble.
"Morga-chan, what did—" Sakura turned to you. And then she just started crying. A moment later, Mayumi woke from her nap and promptly started doing the same.
"Hey," you put on your best soothing-mom voice. The one you heard from your mother whenever your little sisters were up to no good. Which was most of the time, actually. You were always the good child. Until a few moments ago, of course. "Hey, girls… why are you crying?"
"You touched the sword!" bawled Azami. "Now we're never going to see you again!"
"Ye-yeah," Mayumi swalled her tears enoguh to speak. "W-we like you, Morga-chan!"
"It's okay." you put the sword down and herded the girls together so you can hug them. "Girls, it's okay."
You're not sure how effective your words are being, but a nice, warm, soft Gaijin to cuddle seems to sooth the girls' temperaments enough to stop their crying. And the time it takes to stop their sobs give you enough time to formulate a reasonably-coherent sentence. "Don't… don't tell your dad, okay? He needs to hear this from me."
"O-okay," said Azami.
"Now… can you help me put it back?"
The eldest Miyagawa sister nodded.
"Okay," you let go of the little huddle and grab the sword in your off-hand. As terrified as you are of the blade, it feels… right in your hand. Like it was made for you. "How does it go?"
"Put—" Azami sniffled, "Put the blade facing that way," she said.
You did as she told, and then stepped back and offered the sword a deep bow. It felt like the right thing to do. You may have ruined everything, but you could at least be respectful.
"Um…" you itched at your coppery braid. "Do… any of you member how that got into my hand?"
All three girls shook their tear-streaked faces.
"Okay." You sighed and tried not to show how rattled you were. "Why don't you get ready for bed."
"Will you read us a story?" asked Sakura.
"Yeah," you shoved your hands into your jeans and tried to smile kindly. "Of course, Sakura."
The little girl smiled, then shuffled over to hug your legs. "Arigato, Morga-chan."
You ruffled her hair, and waited until all the girls had filed up to their room to do something that seemed even more insane then that daydream of yours. You turned around, and gave the sword another bow. "Um… sword…" you felt like an idiot just trying this, "do you know how you got into my hand?"
The sword said nothing.
Because it was a sword.
You don't know what you expected.
That part of you thought this would in any way help is clearly a sign of your degrading psyche.
Anyway, you've got a bedtime story to read to three adorable little girls. At least that you can manage without screwing up. You even brought a few of your favorite books with you for them to choose. Unfortunately, though they had their own story they wanted you to read.
And it was about, guess what, the sword.
Yeah.
"Um…" you looked at the little book in your hands. It was written in Japanese if you held it one way, and English if you held it the other. Must be some kind of learning-aid Mr. Miyagawa cooked up for his daughters. But the image on the cover is most certainly the sword you'd just touched. "Are you sure?"
The three girls nodded.
You sighed. This might be your last night with the girls, but at least you could make it pleasant for them. "okay," you said, settling onto the floor with your legs crossed.
"Long ago, the master of Darkness Me— Makami— did I get that right"
The girls nodded.
"Makami wanted to rule the world. He sent out armies of… Azumi, what's that word?"
"Oni." she said.
You blinked at her.
"It's… um… demon."
"Right," you coughed. "Armies of demons."
"Oni."
"Are you reading the story, or am I?"
"Sorry, Morga-chan."
You smiled at Mayumi. "Armies of demons to bend the daimyos to his will. One by one they fell, until only the lord of the winds, Kazedono stood free. But he had no sons to bear his name, so Makami hatched a plan. He tricked the Shogun into promising him all Kazedono's lands if he could marry the daimyo's daughter. Promise in hand, he sent his ninja to seize the good daimyo's daughters."
Damn, this story's dark. But the girls seemed to like it so you kept going.
"But then…" the girls were all bubbling with anticipation, "a nameless samuri with a magical sword appeared, and kept the princesses safe."
Mmm… nice ending.
"Good night, girls." You made sure to tuck them all in nice and tight, and were careful to turn Sakura's night-light to juuuust the right setting before you left.
You checked your watch. Still a half-hour before Mr. Miyagawa got back. You could practice your apology until then. You kept running it over and over in your head as you paced the kitchen. You could smell all the delicious food Mrs. Miyagawa had, but your tummy was too tied into knots to think about eating. Or at least think much about eating.
Then, after what felt like a few seconds, you heard noises at the door. You darted over, ready to explain yourself and apologize. An O'Hannah never runs from the truth. Not ever.
The door swung open, and you forced a smile at the two adults. "Welcome home. Um…"
Mr. Miyagawa took one look at you and gasped. It took you a moment to realize why. Your left hand was resting at your hip. But not on your hip. No, it was resting on the hilt of the precious sword you'd touched earlier.
His wife stare at you with eyes the size of platters, and a moment later the two started speaking to each other back and forth far too fast for your meager understanding of Japanese to follow. But whatever it was, they were very energetic about it.
> wat do?
"Uh," you look around. None of the girls seem to have noticed anything's amiss. Sakura's added a few touches to her castle—a castle that looks just like the one you were just fighting in, although more classically Japnese instead of kinda-sorta-western. Mayumi's fast asleep by your side, and Azami's focusing intently on her watercolors. If any of them even noticed you nodded off for a moment, they weren't showing it.
Part of you wants to just walk up to the mantelpiece as quietly as an unnecessarily large Gaijin girl could, put the sword back just the way you found it, and pretend like none of this ever happened. But another part of you knew that would be wrong. If Mr. Miyagawa noticed something was wrong—which he probably would. You didn't think you could get the ceremonial display just right—he might blame his daughters. You couldn't let them take the heat like that, it was against everything you stood for.
Also, you couldn't even if you tried. Mayumi had decided your breast was her pillow now. And as thankful as you were that at least someone was getting some pleasure out of the overly-stuffed fatbags you had to haul around everywhere… she was on there pretty tight. Like some kind of adorable barnacle.
"Azami?" you looked over to the eldest girl. Hopefully you'd get something useful out of her.
"Morga-chan?" The little painter squinted at her watercolors, but didn't look over to you just yet. "Is it bedtime?" she said, furiously trying to finish her painting in time.
"Uh… no," a quick glance at your watch confirmed you still had a half-hour or so before you had to tuck them in. "Did… this is gonna sound really weird… do you know how this sword got in my hand?"
"Sword, I—" Azami gasped and stared at you. "You'renotsupposedtotouchthat!"
You winced. You thought as much… you were going to be in trouble. Huge huge trouble.
"Morga-chan, what did—" Sakura turned to you. And then she just started crying. A moment later, Mayumi woke from her nap and promptly started doing the same.
"Hey," you put on your best soothing-mom voice. The one you heard from your mother whenever your little sisters were up to no good. Which was most of the time, actually. You were always the good child. Until a few moments ago, of course. "Hey, girls… why are you crying?"
"You touched the sword!" bawled Azami. "Now we're never going to see you again!"
"Ye-yeah," Mayumi swalled her tears enoguh to speak. "W-we like you, Morga-chan!"
"It's okay." you put the sword down and herded the girls together so you can hug them. "Girls, it's okay."
You're not sure how effective your words are being, but a nice, warm, soft Gaijin to cuddle seems to sooth the girls' temperaments enough to stop their crying. And the time it takes to stop their sobs give you enough time to formulate a reasonably-coherent sentence. "Don't… don't tell your dad, okay? He needs to hear this from me."
"O-okay," said Azami.
"Now… can you help me put it back?"
The eldest Miyagawa sister nodded.
"Okay," you let go of the little huddle and grab the sword in your off-hand. As terrified as you are of the blade, it feels… right in your hand. Like it was made for you. "How does it go?"
"Put—" Azami sniffled, "Put the blade facing that way," she said.
You did as she told, and then stepped back and offered the sword a deep bow. It felt like the right thing to do. You may have ruined everything, but you could at least be respectful.
"Um…" you itched at your coppery braid. "Do… any of you member how that got into my hand?"
All three girls shook their tear-streaked faces.
"Okay." You sighed and tried not to show how rattled you were. "Why don't you get ready for bed."
"Will you read us a story?" asked Sakura.
"Yeah," you shoved your hands into your jeans and tried to smile kindly. "Of course, Sakura."
The little girl smiled, then shuffled over to hug your legs. "Arigato, Morga-chan."
You ruffled her hair, and waited until all the girls had filed up to their room to do something that seemed even more insane then that daydream of yours. You turned around, and gave the sword another bow. "Um… sword…" you felt like an idiot just trying this, "do you know how you got into my hand?"
The sword said nothing.
Because it was a sword.
You don't know what you expected.
That part of you thought this would in any way help is clearly a sign of your degrading psyche.
Anyway, you've got a bedtime story to read to three adorable little girls. At least that you can manage without screwing up. You even brought a few of your favorite books with you for them to choose. Unfortunately, though they had their own story they wanted you to read.
And it was about, guess what, the sword.
Yeah.
"Um…" you looked at the little book in your hands. It was written in Japanese if you held it one way, and English if you held it the other. Must be some kind of learning-aid Mr. Miyagawa cooked up for his daughters. But the image on the cover is most certainly the sword you'd just touched. "Are you sure?"
The three girls nodded.
You sighed. This might be your last night with the girls, but at least you could make it pleasant for them. "okay," you said, settling onto the floor with your legs crossed.
"Long ago, the master of Darkness Me— Makami— did I get that right"
The girls nodded.
"Makami wanted to rule the world. He sent out armies of… Azumi, what's that word?"
"Oni." she said.
You blinked at her.
"It's… um… demon."
"Right," you coughed. "Armies of demons."
"Oni."
"Are you reading the story, or am I?"
"Sorry, Morga-chan."
You smiled at Mayumi. "Armies of demons to bend the daimyos to his will. One by one they fell, until only the lord of the winds, Kazedono stood free. But he had no sons to bear his name, so Makami hatched a plan. He tricked the Shogun into promising him all Kazedono's lands if he could marry the daimyo's daughter. Promise in hand, he sent his ninja to seize the good daimyo's daughters."
Damn, this story's dark. But the girls seemed to like it so you kept going.
"But then…" the girls were all bubbling with anticipation, "a nameless samuri with a magical sword appeared, and kept the princesses safe."
Mmm… nice ending.
"Good night, girls." You made sure to tuck them all in nice and tight, and were careful to turn Sakura's night-light to juuuust the right setting before you left.
You checked your watch. Still a half-hour before Mr. Miyagawa got back. You could practice your apology until then. You kept running it over and over in your head as you paced the kitchen. You could smell all the delicious food Mrs. Miyagawa had, but your tummy was too tied into knots to think about eating. Or at least think much about eating.
Then, after what felt like a few seconds, you heard noises at the door. You darted over, ready to explain yourself and apologize. An O'Hannah never runs from the truth. Not ever.
The door swung open, and you forced a smile at the two adults. "Welcome home. Um…"
Mr. Miyagawa took one look at you and gasped. It took you a moment to realize why. Your left hand was resting at your hip. But not on your hip. No, it was resting on the hilt of the precious sword you'd touched earlier.
His wife stare at you with eyes the size of platters, and a moment later the two started speaking to each other back and forth far too fast for your meager understanding of Japanese to follow. But whatever it was, they were very energetic about it.
> wat do?
