The first time I looked around, it looked almost exactly like Japan. The buildings were similar, the Kanji was familiar, even the people walking about in strange, cosplay-like clothes were not out of place.
I thought I had been kidnapped. And then somehow deposited in Japan in the middle of a busy street, with nothing on me except the clothes on my back. Which, come to think of it, were rather baggy and loose.
And where were my shoes?
I rolled up my left sleeve and stared. I held out my hand. I wiggled my fingers. I put the palm so close to my face I went cross-eyed.
My 'hand' was chibi. Like the kind of chibi in anime, where the supposedly normal-looking character became more akin to an overly round plush toy. Or, in other words, like the tiny hands of an infant. Give or take a year or two.
I stared.
Of course, life couldn't give me a moment to freak out in peace. I had to get nearly run over by a crazy guy mid-body-examination.
"What the #$% are you doing? Can't you #$% see in front of your #$% face?!" Was what came out of my mouth in that moment of bewilderment, frustration, and the beginning stages of panic.
And what do you know, every single person on the street turned as one to stare at us.
So what did the crazy guy do? He picked me up and continued running.
"#$%&asdfghjkl!"
Half the reason why I was screaming was, of course, because this guy had freaking kidnapped me. The other half was because he had picked me up with only one arm. I was tucked in the crook of it and I actually fit in it.
See what happens when you interrupt my freak-out?
I screamed all the way down the twisted rabbit hole he was dragging me into like a dizzying vortex of high velocity and extreme flexibility. (Some of the movements he made resembled the stuff I saw in a circus once. And even then, they didn't have a wriggling, caterwauling midget doing her best to unstick herself from their hold.)
And then, when he finally ducked into this dingy little shop filled with boxes and moldy old newspapers and out the backdoor to a dark little alleyway, he crouched down and covered my face with his (huge, why the fuck is it so big) hand. I stopped screaming, but only because the contact had reminded me that I needed to breathe.
"Wow, you have really good lungs, don't you?" The stranger chuckled softly, even as he tightened his hand over my face (he was covering my eyes as well with that one hand what the fuck).
In the silence that followed, I could hear the footsteps and voices that had chased us. It wasn't too large a step to assume that he was being pursued by a group of people for some reason. Behind long fingers, I squeezed my eyes shut to stop tears from flowing. I held the sniff back, because it was also probably a safe assumption that I would not like it if the chasers caught us. I'd become either a hostage or a punching bag. With my (yes, damnit! I fucking realized!) child's body, I wouldn't survive either.
It was a long, uncomfortable time before the voices faded and my face was released. By that time, I was crying profusely, tears and snot dribbling down my face.
"Oh geez, crap! I'm really really sorry, chibi-chan!" My kidnapper blubbered. I swallowed and rubbed my face with my sleeve.
Taking a deep breath, I turned around to face him.
He looked young, wide-eyed and honest. Naïve, even. Large brown eyes, short spikey black hair, high cheek bones. He looked like one of those bishounen in manga books.
My heart inwardly quavered.
Any manga-reader worth their salt would have read of the devious type with a face of an angel, and this guy had kidnapped me without any hesitation in the middle of a street. There was no doubt that he had a flip-side to that innocent face.
Hence, the quavering.
Oh, and I haven't missed the fact that he (and what I could see of myself) looked like a manga character.
Hence, the quavering.
I was this close to bursting into full-out bawling, held back by a thin thread of false calm and what little dignity I had left. I was confused, I was freaked out, I was damned near terrified of this guy and my brain was leaping from idea to outrageous idea. I sniffled into my sleeve again.
Kidnapper-san flapped his hands frantically at me, "Oh crap! Oh geez! Please please please don't be scared! I'm not going to hurt you, honest!"
I'd read far too much manga to be tricked by such an act, but I could feel myself start to, if not calm, then stabilize somewhat. At least he wasn't going to attack me right this instant or he wouldn't have bothered talking.
My eyes narrowed behind the too-big sleeve as I took the time I finally had to think and digest.
Actually, there was no point pretending to be an innocent kid. He'd already heard me swearing up a storm when he picked me up. I wanted to slap myself silly, but it wasn't my fault I hadn't gotten over the fact that I'd been chibified yet. I glared at the cloth in front of me.
Obviously, I'd been thinking for far too long, because the fake-squawking had died down and I could feel his eyes on me. I removed my hands and looked at him.
"What do you want with me?" I asked him hoarsely, even that little effort making my throat wince. Other than a slight break in the middle, it was completely toneless. I'd been emotionally wrung out.
He made a surprised face and beamed.
"Nothing!" He replied cheerfully, "I just picked you up 'coz I was going to run into you!"
Bullshit. I saw you step around me at the last moment before I started swearing. You picked me up after that.
I stared at him with a look of disbelief which soon flattened into a deadpan. Again, there was no use pretending and I simply didn't have the energy for it. Manga-experience also informed me that there was no way I could trick characters like him.
True enough, the expression melted off his face after a while. The stark contrast would have been frightening if I had not been expecting it. Despite that, I could still feel chills run down my spine. I prayed I hadn't run into a serial killer character or someone similar. Somehow, I doubted my luck.
"Are you going to kill me?" I blurted out, unable to stand the tension.
Abruptly, he peered at me through slit eyes and a wide, eerie smile. "Now why would I want to kill you, chibi?"
Oh shit. Squinty-eyed character!
I forced myself to look him over, which he allowed in what was probably amusement. There were no weapons on him (that I could see), but his hands were large and looked rough. And here, I decided to use a piece of manga-information that I had picked up from reading many many different mangas. Particularly of the shounenmartial arts genre.
Ha! Whoever said you can't learn anything from manga!
Summoning a burst of courage, I took his hand in both of mine—ignoring the twitch—and felt the texture of the palm. As expected, they were covered in calluses. (I hadn't realized it before due to panic) I ran my short(er) fingers over his knuckles—they twitched as well—and again, they were smooth and hard.
Knowing that my examination was answer enough, I looked up to stare at him dully. His eyes had opened again and he was staring at me with blatant curiosity. At that moment, he looked cuter than he did sinister.
…Geez, what kind of character is this guy? PICK A TYPE DAMNIT!
I shrugged helplessly at him. It wasn't like I'd know why he'd want to kidnap me in the first place.
I just hope he's not a pedophile.
The hand I was holding lifted to my face and I widened my eyes in fear. His eyes narrowed into amused half-moons and suddenly he was pinching my cheeks with both hands.
OW! Your hands are HARD DAMNIT!
…And then I realized I'd said it out loud. Squeezing my eyes shut, I cringed, hands fisted at my sides and knees braced.
And then I heard him snicker.
It grew into full blown guffaws by the time I felt brave enough to open my eyes again. I wanted to smack him in the face, but fear stilled my hand. Instead of following the usual script of screaming at him and demanding what was so funny, I looked away and wiped the back of my hand over my, again, streaming eyes. Things were getting a bit much (okay, a lot much) and I still hadn't wrapped my head around what the hell was going on.
And of course, this 'out of pattern' behavior caught his attention and stopped his outburst again. I wondered what he'd had done if I'd followed the 'normal' script. Maybe, continued on and laughed the whole thing off as a joke? Then may, just maybe, take me back to where he found me and leave me alone?
It was probably wishful thinking, but if there was a chance, I'd probably blown it.
"Will you let me go?" I asked from behind my hand, not wanting to stew in uncertainty anymore. I was confused enough and there was only so much stress I could take before I had a psychotic and suicidal breakdown.
"That depends, Chibi," he drawled, switching again into sly-faced-squint mode, "Do you have a home to be returned to?"
…Well, that's torn it.
"…No." was my squeaky reply. I slumped, but refused to look up from the back of my palm. Even highly-stressed, my brain was working furiously enough to know that it was futile to hope that he would really leave me alone unless I produced solid evidence of a 'home'—and that was without taking into account the unusual interest he had in me. Helplessness was creeping up on me and the consequences of my situation were slowly trickling into my awareness.
I'd read enough "sent to another world/universe" fanfiction to know exactly what I would be dealing with.
Precisely which manga I'd been sent to had yet to be determined, but I wasn't stupid enough to assume that I was a Mary-Sue. At best, I'd be one of those semi-important people who'd matter enough to the plot to stay alive.
At worst, cannon-fodder.
Actually no. At worst, I could be an intruder and the plot would try its best to do me in.
"Then, no." Came the quick, nonchalant reply. I pressed my hand harder into my face to muffle the pained noise that left my lips.
"Can't you just leave me alone?" I whispered, feeling my voice catch and more tears trickling down my cheeks. It was the most I had ever cried in my entire life and I was not proud of how leaky I was being.
Worse still, my mind was being its typical horrible/morbid/depressing self and adding to my grief by bringing up all the shittiest scenarios that could happen. Me being chibified and thus, doubly more vulnerable than previously 20-year-old me was not helping. Stranger Danger had never sounded more real.
After a long while, during which I could feel his eyes boring into me, I released my face and looked back. The stress was wearing down on me and I couldn't quite summon the energy to fight his… whatever it was in me. I sat down in front of him and hugged my knees, staring back at him resignedly. He, in turn, raised his eyebrows in amusement and surprise.
"Okay," I said glumly.
He smothered another smile behind his hand while the other came up to stroke my head.
"You remind me of a cat I used to know," he mused, playing with my hair. "He had these big green eyes that'd look at you like they could read your mind and the softest fur I'd ever touched."
I had no idea if my eyes had turned green or if my hair had become soft and fluffy, but I didn't quite appreciate the comparison. And I certainly didn't know what was on his mind, poetic as he sounded. He laughed when he saw my face.
"You are too cute," he snickered as he ran his hands through my hair again before scooping me up. I squeaked and clung to his neck to prevent myself from falling.
"Saaa, Chibi-chan," he tweaked my nose and stood up, "Let's go." And he started walking.
I found myself too wrung out to care where we were going and simply pressed my face under his chin and fell asleep.
xXXx
I'd been asleep for less than 15 minutes when I was jolted awake. It wasn't a hard jolt, actually rather tiny, but my mind was still at alert due to paranoia and hadn't allowed my body to completely relax.
I restrained the urge to rub my eyes (and possibly mimic those cutesy chibi characters) and instead blinked hard once and shook my head. A few blobs came into view. I blinked a few more times.
When my sight (finally) sharpened, I stared.
We were surrounded by men in black suits.
Oh noes, the men in black! Mook alert! Kidnapper alert! Yakuza! Mafia! Assassins! Thugs!
As I continued to list out all the connotations of manga 'men in black suits', I twisted to look at Mr. Kidnapper (And wasn't that the irony? I keep meeting kidnappers!) in order to gauge my current situation.
...And what kind of situation does a poker face put me in? If he's a kickass person, then he should look smug. If he's a squishy, he'd look scared. If he was calm, then he has the situation at hand… but that's not really a calm face… It's not an 'oh-shit-but-I'm-pretending-to-be-calm' face either… It's more… stony? Aargh! Why can't you make things easier for me! I don't even know what type of character you are!
Giving him the stink-eye, I twisted back to survey our assailants instead.
They've got the whole suit-n-sunglasses gig… does this make them professionals? Like… semi-competent or something? I never understood why people'd wear sunglasses when it's not sunny… And the black suits too… But nevermind. This is manga-world (somehow…argh.) so we follow manga-logic.
…
…
…Is there any visible difference between the good mooks and the lousy ones? Or is this situation the kind that could go either way? I only know that if their target was the non-fighter (or basically, cheerleader) they'd get kidnapped and used as hostage a lot. Or the sidekick. Though of course when they get 'the power of frienship' or 'the power of love' they'd power up and kick these mooks' asses… If it was the main character, there's no question of who would win, but I don't recognize him… Well, this could be a manga I don't know and he's also technically 'protecting' me right now… Would that give him the 'will to protect'? That would definitely ensure that we would come out top…unless this was one of those screw-with-your-head mangas and he dies protecting me while I swear vengeance…
I turned again and tilted my head.
Well, he looks bishounen enough to not be just cannon-fodder. But we can't know for sure… there are plenty of manga filled with eye candy.
I drooped. Then sat up.
Oh yeah! His hands were 'fighter hands'. So that means he can fight! And the squinty-eyed characters never lose unless they fight the main characters or (in the case of Bleach) betray the Big Bad Villain. These guys are hardly the Big Bad, so there's no problem!
I wiped my forehead in relief. And jumped as my perch started to shake. I stared in puzzlement at my kidnapper as his shoulders shook in silent laughter. Taking a moment to regain control, he replied to my unasked question.
"You're so funny! We're in a dangerous situation, surrounded by thugs, and you're just swiveling around gawking at them and me. And then you actually looked relieved!" He sniggered again before continuing, "I can fight, but these were the guys I was running away from before, and now I have you to look out for… we're not exactly in the best position, you know?"
My lips quivered.
Whyyyyyy! Why you no follow manga-logic! You're a squinty-eyed character! You're supposed to be badass! Stop ruining my perception of mangaaaaaa!
At my desolate expression, he grinned (actually grinned!) at me.
The head Mook (who, true to traditional manga-fashion, was bald) had been silently watching our byplay, but now cut in impatiently. It was then that I had another shock of my life. He was speaking in Japanese.
I nearly slapped myself from the stupid thought. Of course he speaks Japanese. Unless I've landed myself in a Korean or Chinese manga, I'm almost certainly going to be in Japan!
Well… therein lay the problem. I didn't understand him at all. I only got "Kora! Yanagi-teme!" before everything became "blah blah blah desu" to me.
Well hell. I get transported to another world and I don't even get the "language translation" skill package. I want a refund damnit!
However, being the very sharp and clever person that I am, I immediately inferred that Non-complying Manga Character's name was Yanagi with the limited Japanese I knew.
…Wait. Does that mean Creepy Guy's been speaking to me in English all this time?
"…Omae wa Korosu!" Head-Mook-san ended dramatically, even shaking his fist in anger. That was one sentence that needed no darned translation.
I had a moment to marvel at the very manga-worthy Mook speech before we were inundated by men-in-black (of the not-so cool sort). Squeaking and just basically squealing in as high-pitched a voice as I could go, I clung onto Possible-Pedo—Yanagi's neck for dear life.
And suddenly, in a burst of movement, he lashed out with a leg, sending one guy flying into the crowd with a footprint on his face and flattening another five in the process. Whirling around through the human tsunami, he took down more people in a series of lightning fast palm strikes, forcibly creating a path out as he moved.
Someone yelled out something—probably orders—spurring the Mooks to mob rush him with reckless abandon, some even throwing themselves forward in flying tackles.
As the saying goes, too many cooks spoileth the broth-eth.
With so many people squished together, there was little to no room to maneuver. Most of them couldn't pull their arms back enough to punch without elbowing someone else in the eye, and kicking without tripping was impossible. From there, it was more crowd-shoving then proper fighting, with copious use of pointy elbows and knees and stomping on any poor sod who managed to trip and spread their fingers within reach.
I hung on like a burr, tucking my head in to avoid getting bashed, sometimes kicking out when a face got too close. Some particularly innovative Mooks tried to grab me, only to get their hands chomped on. If there was one thing I was sure of, it was the hardness and sharpness of my (possibly milk) teeth. Several of the particularly loud yowls were caused by yours truly.
We finally got away from the main bulk and found (made) enough space to break out into a run, chased by a few bedraggled thugs who managed to pick themselves out from the resulting dog pile. They were soon left in the dust as Yanagi ducked and weaved through alleys—just as he had done in the beginning.
Breathing heavily—more from excitement than exertion really—I took a moment to gather my wits.
That fight was actually rather disappointing for members of a yakuza gang. There was no organization and plan of attack. They just threw themselves at us and hoped for the best. And they didn't have any weapons either! Seriously, what kind of yakuza gang does that?
"Pfft, bahahahahaha!" Yanagi burst out in laughter, making me realize that I had—yet again—spoken out loud.
…Is this gonna be a trait of mine? Not being able to think without blurting what I'm thinking? Noooo I don't wanna be an air-head like that!
I had to wait a few more minutes for Yanagi to stop snickering (while burying his face in my shoulder) and calm down enough to speak. Even then, he still broke out in laughter occasionally.
"It's true that most yakuza aren't as pfft, dumb as them, but you can't really blame them. They're just one of those wannabe gangs who aren't actually in the Yamazaki-gumi but want to join." He grinned before adding, "That's why I prefer to avoid them instead of killing them, but sadly, my face is rather well-known. Kind of unfortunate for a guy in my line of work."
I had figured out that Yanagi was a fighter, but hearing the specifics made me wince. Obviously, he wasn't a guy who just happened to have some skill in kicking ass, but a professional—one who made a living out of it and everything. Him telling me about his 'line of work' and talking about killing obviously meant that it was related and cemented the opinion that he wasn't going to let me go any time soon. The teeny little hope I hadn't even realized I'd held out all this while wilted and died a pathetic and miserably understated death.
I resisted the urge to pinch my nose. It seemed that fate was going to keep shoving me in the corner it wanted.
"Seriously, why'd you take me with you? In the first place, I'm a kid and I can't fight and you're dangerous and people are after you and—" I slapped a hand on my mouth to avoid babbling further.
Apparently, hysteria had only been delayed.
I took several deep breaths, used a few moments to collect myself, and continued calmly, "and I don't even know you and you kidnapped me and you could be a pedophile and —oh shit."
This time I wrapped both hands over my mouth to stop the flood. I could have slapped myself if I had a spare hand. It should have been obvious that I was not going to calm down anytime, with the adrenaline from the fight still coursing through my body. The constant saying-what-I-thought should have been an indication.
Though that means I'm not turning into a spazzhead. That's good news I guess.
The look on his face was priceless though.
"I am not a pedophile!" he yelped/growled out, a cross between disgust and horror on his face. It looked like I'd finally cracked his veneer of (eerie) calmness. "You thought—well it's understandable, but still—a pedophile—but I didn't, I don't… You were so cute and your hair—I was not being creepy!" There was a look of dawning realization, as if he hadn't understood just how suspiciously he had been acting.
I couldn't help it—I broke out laughing. It was so relieving that he wasn't actually a pedophile (I hadn't realized how real the fear I had was until then) and that he wasn't as creepy as I thought. He might be a killer, but at least he was more the 'morally-upright' kind that didn't kill children and/or was a creepy pervert.
Oh my gosh, and here I thought my luck had killed itself when I came to this world. Thank heavens it's still alive somehow!
And then it was my turn to yelp as he pinched my cheeks in retaliation. He didn't pinch as hard (my earlier message must have gotten through) and smiled as he did, so I figured he wasn't really offended.
"Saaaa, guess you can smile after all." He said happily as he continued to abuse my cheeks.
I stuck out my tongue and retorted, "Well, if you didn't kidnap me from the middle of the street I wouldn't have worried so much about you being a creep!"
His hands fell as he gave me a thoroughly gobsmacked look, making me bite my lip. Then, laughter bubbled from his throat again. This time, he even held his sides and pitched over in glee, cackling.
When he had recovered enough breath to talk, he giggled, "I knew you had a tongue on you! Especially after that… outburst you had when I nearly ran into you. I never knew a little kid could swear so well—and in English too!"
Well that confirms one hypothesis at least. I'm still an English speaker… Sigh… Guess that means I only know the languages I knew previously… which sort of includes Mandarin so I guess I'm not so bad off. Fat lot of good that'll do here though…
I flushed. I didn't swear a lot, only when I was stressed, and the situation I had found myself in was definitely stressful.
"Are you really gonna keep me? Coz, you know. I'm not actually sure I'd survive it." I twiddled my thumbs as I spoke.
"But you're not sure if you'd survive even if I left you alone right?" He pointed out, even as he snickered at my last remark. "You said you didn't have anywhere to return to, and when I first saw you, you were just staring at your hand in the middle of the street. Plus, you're a foreigner here and you don't even know Japanese."
"I was just… observing something!" I replied defensively, "I have no idea how I got here—wherever this is!"
"You're in Domino City, kiddo," he cracked a grin at me, "and I guess you'll be in my care from now on~"
I stared.
Domino City.
Domino City.
Domino. City.
I'm in fucking Yu-Gi-Oh?!
xXXXx
After bemoaning the fact that I was in a show that was all about a card game and was basically one overly dramatic "monster duel" after another, I tried to cheer myself up. The first good thing was that the geography of the world hadn't changed—there was still America and Japan and all the other countries in between. The second was that as long as I stayed the fuck away from Yugi and his gang of merry trouble-magnets I would be perfectly fine.
…Well, fine from those adventures at least. Sadly, it seemed that I had landed in hot soup of a non-Ancient-Egyptian-God-induced kind all by myself. And it was pretty crazy in its own kidnapped-by-possible-professional-assassin-and-fleeing-from-crazy-wannabe-yakuza-gang way. I never knew that there was an Underground in a world like Yu-Gi-Oh… Though Gozaburo and the Big Five were plenty of indication that corruption, at least, existed.
It wasn't just the 'crappy adventures' that was a disappointment. Yu-Gi-Oh was a fad that had faded nearly 10 years ago and even at its peak I hadn't been a big enough fan to watch all the episodes. Sure, I collected a few cards, but I didn't hunt every single rare card down zealously nor did I have a specially bought card album with which to display them. They were all stuffed into the basic Yugi Starter Deck box my parents had gotten me as a Christmas present. Most of them didn't even have those plastic card protector/holder thingies.
Now that I think of it though, it was a pretty big shock when my first booster pack churned out Black Luster Soldier: Envoy of the Beginning. And then I found that Chaos Emperor Dragon: Envoy of the End just lying on the ground later on. All my friends wanted to kill me when they saw them. Too bad I never got around to collecting Chaos Sorcerer to round out the full set.
Come to think of it, what rare cards did I have? I know I had a Ginzo and Dark Magician and I later traded in some cards for Dark Magician Girl but I don't recall any others…
Hmmm… Guess that was all I had really. Meh, wasn't all that great a deck and I lost more duels than I could count, especially with all those kids with whole decks full of rare cards. Fuck Exodia.
I crossed my arms in disgruntlement. I had been waaaay past the age of playing with monster cards when I was transported here. Having the clock turned back for me physically had not changed that. Shrugging, I settled back down.
Come to think of it, did I have anything with me at all from this 'dimension transfer'? Like, some money? A weapon? A piece of paper with some instructions on what I was supposed to do or at least a reason why I'd suddenly found myself plucked from my world?
I searched my clothes vigorously. Huh. I hadn't noticed that my ill-fitting pants had pockets. I dug through the left one.
And froze.
I took my hand out and facepalmed. I looked up at the ceiling pleadingly. Please don't tell me that is what I think it is.
My head ached for a wall. I eyed the one in front of me contemplatively, wondering how many bangs it would take before I would actually start comprehending the warped sense of this world.
5…no 10 light ones? Or maybe 3 hard ones? Maybe if I got a mild concussion…
Realizing that I was losing regular common sense of my own, I gave up and dug in my pocket again, fishing out 4 pieces of plasticky paper.
Of all the-! Why is it that whatever god put me here didn't see fit to give me Japanese, but thought that it was okay to give me my rare cards?
I sighed in exasperation. Dark Magician, Dark Magician Girl, Black Luster Soldier: Envoy of the Beginning and Chaos Emperor Dragon: Envoy of the End stared back at me from my hand.
…Where's Ginzo? It was a damn useful card! The ability to shut down traps…
I slapped my face again, dragging it down in exasperation. It seemed like the universe was determined to keep shortchanging me. Not that the pieces of paper were going to help my current situation, but still... I sighed again, but returned them carefully. It was nice to own something I guess. Hopefully there were more (useful) things.
A search through my right pocket turned up… a candy wrapper. Hacks, Honey & Lemon flavor. My favorite candy, but it was moot since it was just the. Fucking. Wrapper.
…
I opened my mouth… then closed it. Closed my eyes, pinched my nose bridge, took a deep breath and blew it out gustily.
…It is official. The universe is out to get me. I am resigned to my fate.
Resolving to never have any expectations of anything in this world ever ever again, I surveyed my surroundings and tossed the wrapper into a bin.
Yanagi had brought me to an apartment and was currently in the shower after he had extracted a promise from me not to poke around too much. From what I could see, there wasn't much to look at anyways—it looked like any generic apartment and the décor was a la Sparta. There was a living room with a couch (in which I was currently sitting) with an attached kitchen, a bedroom and a bathroom (which Yanagi was in)…. And a study?
Have I ever mentioned that I have a very extreme sense of curiosity? I didn't? Good. Because I don't. I know what happens to people who look through stuff when they think no one is watching.
With all the chaos I'd suffered through, I was tired enough not to give a damn about anything but getting clean and some very much needed rest. My sleeve was covered in dried snot and I was feeling sweaty and sticky. My head was also beginning to throb a little from all that crying and screaming.
It looked like Yanagi wasn't going to come out anytime soon, so I made myself comfortable, leaning back against the headrest.
I'm just going to close my eyes for a bit… I'm seriously tired. He'll probably call me up when he's done… in just… a few… minutes…
xXXx
Someone was tugging on my shirt. I twisted with a growl and kicked out, catching on something. A yelp and a thud, then blissful peace.
Only for a while.
Whoever it was wasn't giving up. My shirt was tugged up and I kicked again, missing this time. A third try was attempted, but I growled dangerously and the hands quickly fell away. When it seemed like I'd driven them off, I relaxed again, only to realize that they'd simply switched tactics. This time, my pants were pulled off, making me jerk in shock.
I blinked frantically and stared at the face looming between my legs before shrieking and lashing out. Fortunately, my aim was true again this time—my foot landed squarely on the nose, sending it flying backwards and crashing against something. Scrambling to my feet and clutching my pants to my thundering chest, I backpedalled—into a wall. However, instead of flight, my brain had other pressing priorities which I struggled to obey at the frantic chanting in my head.
Must put on pants, must put on pants.
As I hopped desperately on one leg, I kept a wary lookout on the groaning heap on the floor. A quick glance around revealed a metal briefcase leaning against the dining table. Tightening my belt as much as possible around my waist, I hurried over and attempted to lift it closer to my side.
Oof! What's in this damn thing! Rocks?!
Impatient and just a little terrified, I scrabbled at the lock, giving a heartfelt thanks to whatever deity when it popped open—I didn't even have to guess the combination—flinging the lid open and dumping whatever was inside on to the floor.
Hurryhurryhurryhurrry!
A quick look revealed something even better than the metal case—a gun! Yes! I abandoned the case and grabbed the pistol in trembling hands. Swallowing slightly, I pointed it in front as I began to edge slowly towards Yanagi.
Waitwaitwait!
I paused. I was forgetting something. Something important.
Gun. Gungungun. Gun—something—fire. Gun…
Safety switch!
My breath hitched, I brought the pistol up to my eyes quickly. My frenzied gaze found the tiny switch on the side and my fumbling fingers hurried to flip it. A red dot slid into the slot.
Red means danger. Red means on right? Right? Right? Pleasepleaseplease let it be right!
Heart hammering in my chest, I cocked the gun and peeped over the couch.
There was nobody there.
I swore and spun around, only to have the gun knocked out of my grasp. Shrieking at the top of my lungs, I jumped back to the table and overturned it, making sure that the top was between us. The metal case I had discarded gleamed and I hauled it over to use as a shield.
Silence.
I quivered under the case—both the bottom and the lid were big enough to cover my crouched form like a mini-tepee—sobbing and whimpering before I regained the presence of mind to shut the hell up and bite my sleeve.
A sigh escaped from lips that were not mine from beyond the table top barricade. I squeezed my eyes close and bit down harder.
"Chibi-chan?" Yanagi spoke softly. He sounded sober, unlike his previous jocular tones. I longed to trust him, to trust that friendly voice, but…
"You said you weren't a pedophile!" I screamed across the room, trying to push down the bubbling hysteria. I hunched over even more, hugging my knees and counting my wavering breath.
His reply was indignant, "I'm not! I—"
"You were taking off my pants!"
"Chibi-chan—"
"No!"
"Please just let me explain—"
"NO!"
"Calm down…"
"No! Gowaygowaygowaygoway—!"
I howled as I was scooped up. I kicked and flailed and bared my teeth, hissing and spitting in frenzy.
"CHIBI-CHAN! PLEASE CALM DOWN!" He pinned my arms to my side and yelled.
I squirmed and twisted as hard as I could, my mind wailing nonononono. I tried to kick, he pressed me on the floor and pushed his weight against my legs. I tried to head butt him, he shifted out of the way. I screamed and screamed and screamed until my voice gave way with a resounding crack and my throat felt like it was being pierced by needles. I choked and coughed, but it didn't stop until my head swam and I had to take several rasping breaths.
Only then did Yanagi speak. He didn't let go, though.
"Chibi-chan," he whispered into my ear, "calm down. I'm not going to hurt you."
I closed my eyes and trembled against him, but didn't struggle. It was obvious that I wasn't going to overpower him anytime soon. There was nothing I could do. Tears dripped onto the floor.
"Shhh…shhhh…" he murmured soothingly, slowly releasing my arms and easing his weight off me. I tried to curl but he lifted me into his lap, patting my head softly.
I swallowed, the action making me wince.
He snorted quietly, startling me, "Quite a clever little chibi-chan you are. Where did you learn about gun safety switches? Though I suppose it was my fault that the case was unlocked—but seriously, I didn't expect a four? Five? Year old kid to know how to unlatch it, much less pick up the gun and use it. And even then… safety switch. How the hell did you know to unlock it?"
My body was beginning to relax against my will. Perhaps it was the abuse I had heaped on it, perhaps it was just the limit of a child's body, or even the soothing tone of voice. I bit my lip, telling myself to stay alert, but my mind was weary from the day's events—I couldn't bring myself to move even if he had placed the gun on my forehead.
"…and the idea of using the table and the case as a cover—that was seriously smart thinking. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself—and all that under stress!"
I was this close to passing out, but I couldn't—wouldn't allow myself to. I licked my lips and forced out the most important question despite my utterly wrecked throat.
"Wha-at w-hem…were y-ouu try-ing t-t-t—"
"—to do?" he finished for me. When I nodded timidly, his lips quirked. Then he rolled his eyes. "Wellll, I wasn't expecting so much trouble trying to give you a bath," He muttered, eyeing the chaos I had left in my mad scramble for protection, "If you didn't want to you could've just told me!"
I blinked owlishly at him, mouth slightly agape.
A bath?
And then I realized that I was in the body of a child. Or rather, the implications of that. Not the pedophiliac ones. The kids-don't-know-how-to-bathe-themselves ones.
I flushed. The whole debacle was probably an indication of how high-strung I had been. And how little I trusted Yanagi. Not that I was ashamed of the latter.
But still… either way I'd have to be naked in front of him.
…My body didn't even flinch—it was beyond caring about something that didn't pose a danger to itself. My mind flipped a bird at the emotion called shame, muttering fack it, I'm too tired for this shit and rolled over.
And so I didn't struggle this time when Yanagi began removing my clothes again. I did watch him cautiously, but it was obvious that my undeveloped body held no attraction to him.
And then he reached over to tug my underwear off.
I stared.
All I could remember was a distant voice wailing that's not supposed to be there! before darkness swallowed me.
xXXx
I woke up feeling fresh as a daisy and well-rested. A welcome feeling from yesterday. And yes, I woke up with all senses as well as my memory intact—I'd had all my freak/faint-outs yesterday and my mind was satisfied.
If you haven't realized—I've not only been chibified, but transgendered. I'm a boy now, and in proud possession of a weenie.
Okay, where's the screaming and hair-pulling and 'oh god WHY's, you're asking? Well, I did faint when I discovered that particular news, but I have discovered that there is a point, actually, that you experience so many shocks, that you become immune to it. Well, maybe not immune, but you tend to be rather blasé after a while.
Seriously, being a boy was probably the least of all the shocks I had experienced. All the worries I'd been carrying about kidnappings and pedophiles and dying completely overshadowed it. And I still haven't exactly come to terms with being separated from my family so suddenly. Well… it isn't so bad. We were a rather distant family, what with my mother travelling overseas for work so often, and my father always in the office—even on weekends. My brother was more a pain than anything. And I'm not just saying that to reassure myself. We hardly interacted and when we did, it was explosive. We just couldn't see eye to eye with anything.
In any case, I was clean, I'd had a proper night's rest, I was safe (enough) in the (admittedly rather dubious) care of Yanagi and I had established which manga world I had been dropped in and thus, where and who to avoid.
After all, the Yu-Gi-Oh storyline was just fine. I had no complaints at all about how it ended (How did it end actually?). I had absolutely zero intention to so much as tweak it—if I even could with what little I remembered.
So.
With that out of the way, I could now focus on what I should do. Obviously, I had ended up in the care of someone with a rather…violent profession. Which…actually suited me just fine. I had picked up Karate in my teenage years just for the sake of pummeling someone legally. And you wouldn't believe how rough girl fights can get.
The killing part… could be dealt with later on. I think the episode with the gun can attest to my willingness to kill should my safety be put into question. Other conditions…debatable.
So here I am, twenty-year-old girl in a four-year-old boy's body, in a world that I'd previously known to be a children's TV show, and in the custody of a professional killer.
Yay, me.