Title: La Valise Argentée
Author: A Crazy Elephant
Summary: Or 'Five Times Someone Saw the Silver Case and the One Time it Didn't Matter'; Companion to "Le Famille"
Category: Family/Friendship
Word Count: 1,824
Disclaimer: Inception belongs to Christopher Nolan, not me. Sad.
Author's Notes: I apologize for the slow update, but I've been going back and forth on the progression of these chapters and I couldn't decide which I'd like to come next. Like the last chapter, this is heavily based on the families as seen in Le Famille. I'd also like to thank everyone for the reviews; the feedback is great!
Again, these don't really have a point, just a little series of chronological vignettes concerning the silver case and someone who finds it. As always, let me know if I slip back into the past participle; I know I slipped up a bit in the last chapter. Reviews are loved; I'd love to hear what you think. = )
2 – Kyoto, Kyoto Prefecture, Kansi Region, Japan
Jiro-kun is getting bored.
Ichiro can tell and it's a bit worrisome, especially since he's got another three pages of French verbs to conjugate and isn't exactly in the mood to entertain his little brother when the brother in question grows tired of his picture books, coloring pages and Super Mario.
He doesn't blame Jiro, of course. His brother is only five after all and waiting in Father's office where he is not permitted to touch anything or run about or generally be anything but a quiet and dutiful son, is not exactly a five year old's favorite activity. Honestly, Ichiro's not overly thrilled with sitting around until Father's out of some big meeting himself. True, it gives him time to finish some schoolwork, but this isn't exactly what he pictured for his school holiday. Father is supposed to take them to the shore and maybe Disneyland Tokyo if they're particularly good (so says Mother at any rate, but Ichiro has a hard time picturing his father in the Magic Kingdom. Father takes them places like Vail and Dubai for skiing and the beach respectively; Mother's usually the one who takes them to Disneyland for Space Mountain and those candied apples shaped like Mickey Mouse that almost always make him ill but are simply too good to not eat in under a minute), not stop off at one of Father's satellite offices for a last minute meeting about whatever it is that Father does.
"Ichiro-chan?" Jiro begins and Ichiro tries not to look up from the column of past participles he's working on. Some small, irrational part of him hopes that his disinterest will dissuade Jiro from continuing, but the rest of him knows this to be a fool's hope.
"Yes, Jiro-kun?"
"When's Father going to be finished?" Jiro continues. There's a distinct whine in his brother's voice now, the sort that usually signals Jiro's dissent into complete boredom and the end of anything like peace for everyone else and Ichiro doesn't like it.
"Soon." He lies, still trying to focus on his verbs and Jiro doesn't buy it. Instead, his brother groans and slides down in his chair, kicking his heels against the legs of the chair.
"'chiiiro!" Jiro whines. "I'm -"
"Why don't you play some more Mario?" Ichiro suggests, nodding to the handheld that lies abandoned on the side table and still singing it's merry little 'paused' song. "I'm busy."
"I'm finished with Mario!" Jiro insists and Ichiro rolls his eyes. There is no way his brother has beaten that video game yet. Ichiro hasn't even beaten that game yet – Jiro's only just gotten it for his birthday and it's the latest so none of his friends have it either. "I have! I have!"
"Sure," Ichiro tries to sound supportive, but not really and Jiro huffs again. "Try Zelda then."
"We didn't bring Zelda." Ichiro knows this to be an out and out lie. He packed that game himself; Ichiro has a boss to beat and a code to crack, which he plans to have finished before school starts up again.
"Check my knapsack then." He nods to the bag. "Third pocket – and don't even think about nicking my iPod." Ichiro regrets the words even as they leave his mouth and Jiro's face lights up at the mention of the new toy.
"Why not?" He whines.
"Because Father gave it to me for my birthday – besides, you'll ruin my win percentage in Yahtzee." Ichiro explains. "Don't touch it." He repeats for good measure.
"At least let me play the Pac Man!" Jiro's whine takes on an added layer of pitiful that usually means he's about to run to the nearest grown-up and get Ichiro in trouble for not sharing. Fortunately, the only grown-up about is Father's receptionist, but she's halfway down the hall and they've been left with strict instructions not to bother her unless someone's sick or injured and just stay quietly in the grand corner office. Even Jiro, who's still not quite learned when not to test their parents' patience, knows better than break a direct order from Father.
"No." Ichiro insists.
"But why?" Jiro whimpers.
"Because," Ichiro says decisively in his best grown-up, big brother voice, eyes still on his verbs. He knows that caving in will mean Jiro is occupied for all of fifteen minutes before he gets eaten three or four times by the ghosts, then he'll be into Yahtzee and Plants vs. Zombies and ruining all Ichiro's hard earned stats and he is not about to let six weeks of serious strategizing and ruthless zombie destroying to be wiped out in less than an hour by a restless preschooler who doesn't even know the rules to Yahtzee, let alone understand the complex stratagem necessary to successfully eliminate the undead.
"Because why?"
"Because I said so." Ichiro snaps, perhaps be more sharply than he ought to have because Jiro-kun looks like a kicked puppy and snuffles a bit, sinking lower into his chair so that he's laying nearly flat against the seat and his feet almost reach the floor. At the very least, he lapses into silence and Ichiro makes it through three whole verbs before Jiro interrupts again.
"Please?" His voice is small and sad, with only a tiny touch of hope.
"No."
"Just two rounds?"
"No."
"One round?"
"No."
"I'll tell Father you wouldn't share." Jiro threatens, but even he knows it's not a particularly menacing warning given that Jiro's got not only picture books and coloring pads, but his own video games around to play with, not even Mother would lend much sympathy to his cause.
"I'll tell him you broke Mother's vase in the dinning room." Ichiro returns, even though Jiro knows perfectly well that Ichiro would never tell either of their parents or any of their nannies about the Football-Into-The-Edo-Period-Vase Incident, given that it had been his own idea to play the game in the first place and will continue to allow the adults to believe that it was in fact knocked over by Mother's fat old Persian cat that has a habit of escaping the parlor to which she is confined and climbing onto the collection of antiques in the rest of the house until they are all old and gray.
"Will not!" Jiro fires back and there's a tone of triumph in the pronouncement.
"Will so." Ichiro assures him for good measure. "Just take Zelda, Jiro-kun." He suggests and Jiro rolls his eyes.
"Fine." Jiro follows Ichiro's earlier instructions, slips off his chair entirely and digs into the third pocket as though after the Nintendo chip, but of course, because he's five and his little brother, snatches up the iPod instead.
"Put it back – Zelda remember?" Ichiro reminds him over his homework.
"Make me."
"Jiro-" Ichiro warns in his best imitation of Father. It's still not the intimidating sort of order that Father issues and Ichiro doesn't have the clout to pull any of Father's sneaky, cryptic-sounding ploys that get people to do exactly as Father wants, but Ichiro likes to think he's on his way.
"Just try it." Jiro taunts, waving the device triumphantly, the little white earphones clicking together.
"Put it back." Ichiro repeats. "You'll break it."
"Will not!" Jiro hops up with a victorious grin that makes Ichiro just want to kick him and take back his iPod. Of course, he knows this will only make Jiro cry and then they'd both be in trouble (Ichiro for making his brother cry and Jiro for making such a racket and then there very well could be no trips to the shore and defiantly not to Disneyland) and he is not willing to compromise his holiday plans because Jiro decided to be, well, five. So instead, Ichiro heaves a put-upon sigh, sets aside his French verbs and holds out his hand for the iPod.
"Give it to me."
"Won't!" Jiro insists, jogging towards the windows as though putting Father's desk between them is going to deter Ichiro from coming any closer and just wrenching the little scrap of technology from him.
"Give it back- now." Ichiro moves up to meet him and Jiro drops under the desk as if this will protect him. "Jiro-"
"Hey-" Jiro-kun exclaims. "Ichiro? What's this?" He asks from below the heavy oak and Ichiro is surprised. Jiro sounds genuinely curious and not at all teasing like he had been.
"What's what?" Ichiro drops to his knees to see what it is that has got his little brother distracted. Jiro is sitting crouched between the solid drawers and pointing to a sleek, silver suitcase that looks a little like a skinny and boring version of the hard rolling luggage they take on trips. But their rolling cases are hard plastics, not metal like this one and have a little red logo on them instead of perfectly smooth. Neither are their cases so heavy, even when they've packed their ski boots and parkas in them and are certainly never filled with little tubes and pumps and counters when opened.
"What is it, 'chiro?" Jiro asks, almost in awe, the iPod entirely forgotten as they click open the case to stare at the complex maze of technology that looks almost like it belongs on one of the American television programs with extra handsome doctors that Mother watches.
"I don't know." He answers honestly, closing the case and returning it to its original position. Ichiro isn't sure why, but he get the distinct impression that this case is one of the work things Father won't talk about, the sort that they shouldn't have seen and that they ought not to ask after. "Let's go." He slips the iPod from Jiro, who's still gawking at the little suitcase and takes his brother's hand, backing out from under the desk. "You can start in on the Goron Temple for me." He suggests, pulling Jiro back to their chairs and the waiting Zelda game.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah – here." Ichiro slips the iPod back into his book bag and swaps Mario for Zelda, placing Jiro back into his chair.
"Why would Father have a suitcase like that?" Jiro asks finally as Ichiro hands him the Nintendo.
"I don't know." He says. "Just forget about it okay? It's none of our business."
"Like a secret?"
"Yes, like a secret." Ichiro agrees, settling back with his verbs. "Go on – I want to make it to the Temple of Ice before I go back to school."
"And I can help?" Jiro's attention is back to the games.
"Yes, you can help." Ichiro assures him, grateful for once that his brother is so easily placated by notions of helping with Ichiro's videogame scores and progress and not pressing too hard into the existence of the case. It was another of Father's business-y secrets that Ichiro only half understood and one of many they were obliged to keep.
