Just for fun, and because I couldn't get the picture out of my head...


Slamming the door of the taxi, I stormed up the stairs of my building and into our apartment. I slammed that door too, causing Niko to look up from the sword that he was meticulously cleaning.

"Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed again?" he asked, resuming his polishing.

I didn't answer as I flopped down on the couch next to him.

"You probably shouldn't do that when the person you're sitting next to has a ten-inch sword in his hand," Niko commented, setting said sword down on the coffee table. He turned to look at me. "Is something wrong?"

I scowled. "I don't want to talk about it."

Niko's gaze lingered on me for a second longer, then flicked back to the sword he was picking up again. "That's fine," he said, handing me his katana. "You can clean this instead."

By 'clean', he didn't mean that I should wipe it down a few times to get the fingerprints off. He meant that I should spend an hour tediously scrubbing each inch of his precious knife, and then another hour polishing it until it sparkled. The katana was his favorite, which meant it got special treatment, and he normally didn't let me touch it. This wasn't a privilege, however, because the consequences would be dire if my cleaning wasn't to his satisfaction. It was more of a dare, really, than a privilege.

I sighed, but took the weapon and a rag and began to work. Nik had this special mixture that was great for getting off blood residue, but it smelled awful. It was yellow and thick and I didn't know if he bought it or made it or what, but we always had some. I worked with the stuff for about twenty minutes before I set down the katana. Niko had never meant for me to actually finish the job—he knew that I'd break and just talk to him to get out of the chore.

"I have to learn how to braid," I finally said.

That caught his attention. "Excuse me?"

"Joe, or whatever his name is, at the bar, said that my hair was too long, and that I either had to cut it or keep it back in a braid," I said glumly.

"And you don't know how."

"Right."

A pause. "How do you not know how?" Niko asked.

"It's not exactly one of the core subjects in school. Why should I know how?"

"You've only seen me do it a thousand times," Niko said, gesturing to the braid he currently had his hair in.

"Well, I didn't pay attention."

"Surprise, surprise," he said with the briefest roll of his eyes. "Here, watch." He set down his weapons and cleaning supplies, then ran a deft finger through his braid, undoing it. Swinging his hair over his shoulder, he slowly began to re-braid it. "You separate the hair into three sections, like this." He glanced up to be sure I was paying attention, and I was.

"Okay," I said, nodding.

"Then you take either the right section or the left section, it doesn't matter which, but I'm going to use the right one, and you bring it over the middle section, so that it is now the new middle. Understand?"

He was using his teaching voice, and I was concentrating hard not to tune it out, as was my natural instinct. "I think so," I said.

"Alright, so now you take the left section, and bring it over the middle section, making it the new middle, and then you start over." Niko demonstrated as he spoke, and I watched as he finished the braid.

"Hmm," was all I could say once he was done.

"I know that tone too well," Niko commented. "Here, now you try." He undid his braid again, and turned around so that his back was facing me.

I reached out to take his hair, gathering it in a loose ponytail with my hand. "I feel like a girl," I said sullenly as I separated my brother's hair into three sections.

"I'll be happy to shave your head if you think yourself too much of a man to have kempt hair."

My hand automatically shot up to my head to protect my hair. "Thanks," I said dryly.

"Then stop complaining. Now, take the right section and bring it over," he instructed.

I did so, but my efforts were met with a grunt of disapproval.

"It needs to be tighter than that," Niko sighed. "Try again."

I brought the hair back into its original positions, and this time I pulled the right section over the middle one as tightly as I could.

"There's no need to yank, Cal," Niko said in a steely voice.

"Sorry," I muttered, pulling the left section over the middle.

"Alright, now do it again."

And so it went, me braiding my big brother's hair while said big brother evaluated my performance. He made me do it five times before he was satisfied with it.

"This one is good, Cal," Niko said, running his fingers over the braid. "The sections are still a little uneven, but it's a definite improvement."

"Gee thanks, Cyrano," I said, admiring my handiwork.

"Now braid your own." Niko picked up the abandoned katana and resumed cleaning it.

"Kay…"

This proved to be a bit more difficult since I couldn't see what I was doing, but Niko's cheerful encouragement kept me going. The room was filled with a barrage of "Tighter Cal,", "The object is to braid your hair, not knot it,", and other variations until I finally got it right.

I turned around for Niko's appraisal. "How's that?" I asked for what must have been the twentieth time.

Niko set down his weapon and fingered the braid. "Good, actually. But to be sure that this isn't a fluke…" he tugged hard on one of the loops of the braid, pulling it out, "do it again."


By the way, these little snapshots are in no particular order, other than the order that I finish them as they pop into my head.

Let me know what you thought!