Matriarch
…
Note: human Nomicon!
…
Randy breathed in the scent of warm, greasy pepperoni pizza, fresh from the parlor (well, as warm as it can be via delivery). Nope, he was still tired from the scent. He'd swing by that Chinese takeout restaurant later to pick up a delivery menu, better that ordering pizza every day.
Randy strolled to the fridge, taking out the jug of milk. Not much left. He'd have to swing by the store to pick up some more tomorrow.
Even less time to do his homework.
He plopped down on the leather couch like he did every night, turning on video chat and waking up the TV.
As Randy attempted to set up a connection with Howard, he heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and grunted to the red haired teen.
The other occupant of the house looked at the cardboard box with distaste. "Pizza again?"
"Tomorrow I'm going out to get a Chinese takeout menu. Or would prefer Japanese?"
"Japanese, please." The boy looked up, "Staying up late playing Grave Puncher again? You should be training."
Randy sighed. "I fought a lot of stanked students today, Nomi. Cut me some slack."
Nomi Coniku Norisu was the human form of the NinjaNomicon, an ancient 800 year old book that had guided Norrisville ninjas for centuries, and assisted in guarding the evil Sorcerer underneath the Norrisville high. Randy was the current ninja, as they changed every four years.
Nomi grunted. "Then you should be getting sleep."
Of course, Howard connected at that moment. Nomi and Howard had a mutual hatred of each other, unfortunately. "Stop being such a shoob, Norisu."
Which in turn set Randy off. "Howard, how many times do we have to go over this? Please show respect to the eight hundred year old ninja spirit who is also my teacher."
Nomi smirked at Howard. "Thank you, Randy."
Howard glared. "Whatever. Let's get punching some graves, Cunningham!"
The Nomicon forced down his disgusting pizza, watching the video game idly. He was thinking hard. Normally he would just stay as a book around the ninja's house, only taking human form when the training required it, but neither Randy's father or mother ever seemed to be around the house. It was concerning, especially since Randy was ordering unhealthy takeout every night. (Well, they had leftovers, but you know what he meant.) Either they left really early and got back really late, or just weren't around often.
He decided to ask Randy.
"Randy, may I ask you a question?"
"Fire away." Randy was mostly focused on his game, but Nomi knew that the boy was good at multitasking.
"Where are your parents?"
And everything stopped. Randy had froze as soon as Nomi had started the word 'parents', and was just staring blankly at the screen, fingers hovering above the buttons of the controller. Howard was staring at where Nomi must have been on his screen.
And everything resumed. Randy shot straight up. "I need to go to the bathroom."
"Nomi, we have to talk." Howard was surprisingly serious. "First, shut down the TV, because Cunningham isn't coming back. Second, listen carefully." Nomi obediently did what the tiny-handed boy said, and sat down on the couch. "Never talk about Randy's parents. Try to avoid using the 'P-word' around him at all, actually. It's a very sensitive subject."
"Why is it?" A ninja needed all the information he could about his allies and enemies alike. In this case, it was an ally.
"That's up to Cunningham to tell you." And the connection cut.
…
Nomi sat on 'his' bed in the master bedroom. Thinking back on it, this was probably Randy's parent's room.
He moved to the wooden floors, locking the door. He lit some candles, and sat in a lotus position.
With every breath, the flames leapt higher. They sank the mere sparks with every exhale.
"Show me Randy Cunningham, current Norrisville Ninja's, mother."
And his conscious sank into darkness.
…
A beautiful woman with purple hair, a lighter shade then Nomi's Ninja's, was cradling a baby in her arms.
"Randy, time to eat," she cooed. She couldn't have been more than seventeen. The microwave oven beeped, and she fetched a bottle from it. She hummed a tune softly to herself.
Nomi watched her time with Randy in a time lapse, while grabbing every tiny detail. He noticed the woman's increasing unhappiness with her situation. She worked overtime, leaving her son home often and teaching him all she could.
And then she met a man. He was wealthy, handsome, kind. He thought that she was beautiful and sweet, he didn't care that she didn't have much money.
The mother was home less and less often, leaving Randy to stumble through the day and get into trouble. A year passed, and she and her friend got married, getting through college and receiving a well-payed job. The woman hired a nanny for Randy, who was neglectful of her charge and spent all of her pay on alcohol, drugs, and cigars.
Eventually the nanny disappeared, around the same time that Randy's mother had a new child with her husband, an adorable little girl, forgetting her fourth-grader. When the pay checks stopped coming. Randy's mother remembered enough of her only son, though to send him a credit card and give him enough money to live on. Nomi's ninja refused to turn his mother in, for he didn't want to leave what he had known his whole life, giving the excuse that his mother had to go out on frequent business trips.
What bugged Nomi the most was, Howard had known.
Howard had known yet he still had blamed everything on his best 'friend', and making the blind and loyal boy pay for everything with his limited money.
Sometimes the ones who went through the worst experiences are the purest of heart.
…
The next morning, Randy had gotten up blearily and tripped down the stairs, tumbling to a halt at his mentor's feet.
"…morning, Nomi!"
"Good morning, Randy. Breakfast is ready."
"…what?"
Sure enough, there was a pile of steaming pancakes on the table.
Randy's eyes were wide. "Thanks, Nomi!" The purple-haired boy ran over to the table, practically throwing the nourishment inside his mouth, inhaling his plate in no time at all. He left some for Nomi.
"See ya after school for training!"
Nomi nodded his acknowledgement, and smiled to himself. Just because he was an eight hundred and one year old book, didn't mean he was above working.
It was time to go job hunting.