JMJ

CHAPTER THREE:

A Splendid, Ominous House

Through the servant Shino, the trio had been conveyed to separate corridors to wash for supper. Kojiro had been ushered into his old room, and Musashi was sent to another bedroom down the way. She did not know what had happened to Nyaasu, but she guessed that he had not been invited to dine with the humans.

This room had its own shower, and Musashi had no problem making herself at home with it, but as she mused through the clothing to make her "respectable for dinner" she found herself not nearly as excited as she thought she would have been. Images of a queenly woman in a faraway land taunted her in the back of her mind every time she held a dress up in front of herself before a mirror. She squeezed her eyes shut trying to block out the memory of she herself commanding servants to punish Nyaasu for not giving her what she had felt at the time as due respect, but more than anything as she looked into the mirror again, she remembered another mirror and how it had reflected the treasures and beauty around her and of her.

With a growl of annoyance, Musashi snatched the simplest dress in the wardrobe and put it on quite satisfied, but not without hiding her Team Rocket uniform in the back of the closet. She would not risk some servant taking the liberty of throwing it out. As she said, she had no intention of staying here nor of letting Kojiro stay here either.

His parents were angry with him too, they probably would not even want him to stay, which would be just fine with Musashi. Then they could all get back to their lives without further trouble.

Kojiro wanted to help his parents. She had no idea how he thought he would accomplish this. He probably did not even know himself, but if in his wishing to be a good son he was ordered off the premises, then as a good son he would have to leave.

Hopefully, that would be all his parents would have to say at the table. Maybe they would add how much he had shamed the Niwa family or some noble household thing of that sort. There would a gloomy Kojiro for a few days, and it would all be over.

Now the only other problem was getting the servant girl out of the room so she could not attempt to aid Musashi in getting this dress on … What was with the aristocracy? Didn't they believe in privacy? Seriously!

Downstairs again, she was led to a vast dining room where she found seated at an equally vast dining table Mr. and Mrs. Niwa on one end and Kojiro halfway down the middle quite separated from the other two. Neither party looked at the other. Mr. and Mrs. Niwa seemed to be looking at nothing at all in their usual stiff and stately fashion, and Kojiro, now dressed in a Victorian-eque suit, sat slumped down staring at his plate miserably.

After a roll of her eyes, Musashi took the liberty of snatching a seat beside Kojiro, and the instant she appeared, Kojiro straightened upright and proper, apparently remembering that he should not be slouching. He looked longing at Musashi as if silently telling her to do the same.

Yeah, Kojiro, yeah, I know how to eat properly, she thought.

It was not be long before the servants brought supper in, but it felt ages as the future diners sat in awkward silence. Musashi stared up at the chandeliers. Their delicate and whimsical design danced in the ceiling painted with many colors and playful imagery, and she thought of the incredible contrast between the ceiling and the table below. It made her think absently for a moment that it might be better having supper on the chandeliers. It also seemed to display a sort of irony about aristocrats, but she could not have put it into words. Subtleties of that sort were not her strong point. Thus, returning to the table, she glanced to Kojiro, hoping she looked at least a little encouraging, but she knew her face probably showed more of her disgust than her sympathies. After their eyes met, although his posture did not stoop, his eyes again fell to his empty plate.

Then did the food arrive, and suddenly Musashi realized how famished she was. All annoyances and concerns, instantly vanished as her eyes widened on the platters and bowls set in front of her. Lids flew off to the lovely Victorian-esque dinner. She did not even bother to figure out which fork went with which food or which side of the plate a utensil lodged, nor did she consider poise in her wine drinking. She did manage to remember lifting a pinky, but perhaps that simply mocked the manners she was unwittingly ignoring as she dove into the meal all the more hungrily.

"Musashi!" a tiny voice squeaked beside her.

Musashi looked up, confused by the concern at first.

"Hmm?"

Kojiro's frantic face met hers as she washed down a gulp-full of food with what little remained of her wine, and she frowned.

"Please," he begged with pleadingly-exaggerated, rubbery expression; though, he spoke barely in a whisper.

Setting down her glass, she peeked at the still unmoved Mr. and Mrs. Niwa out of the corner of her eye. Her focus met with Mrs. Niwa's briefly, but no emotion presented itself in that look.

Musashi forced a smile and turned back to her meal, eating the rest slowly and calmly, even if she still did not use the utensils right.

That was when she noticed the unorthodox activity that Kojiro was involved in as he as discretely as possible sneaked food under the table. With a frown, she leaned back and glanced down to see Nyaasu silently begging for more like a dog.

So that's where he had ended up.

When he was not doing that, Kojiro simply stared dejectedly at his plate in a manner that made Musashi fear that he would simply pass out right into his supper. He did not eat anything either. He hardly lifted his fork and only swirled his wine once after a single hefty gulp.

Finally, the silence became too much for Musashi and, clearing her throat she made to say something. The loudness of the sound surprised even her, and she hesitated a little as all eyes fell on her.

"Well," she said with a grin holding up her win glass as if to make a toast. "Everything's very good, isn't it?"

After a long pause, Mr. Niwa murmured, "Very," as though he thought quite the opposite.

Clearing her throat again, Musashi's smile dissipated into a scowl, and a servant came by to fill her glass again.

"Psst, Kojiro, nya," whispered Nyaasu from below, tugging his pant leg.

With a deep wince, Kojiro glanced down. Musashi did the same just in time to see Nyaasu pointing inside of his mouth. Kojiro closed his eyes and sighed, but before she could give him any more food, Musashi gave the pokémon a rough kick.

"Nyah!" Nyaasu cried.

"You're making it worse!" snapped Musashi.

Now Kojiro's sigh turned into a loud moan as he dropped his head onto the table literally; though fortunately, not in the middle of his food but on the table anyway.

For a moment, Musashi just stared at the motionless, bluish-purple mop on the table beside her. Even Nyaasu was too surprised to be angry with Musashi for kicking him. Then she dared a glance to Mr. and Mrs. Niwa who still appeared completely unmoved from where she had seen them last. Still, stiff, eating calmly and quietly, the couple hardly glanced up when Kojiro's face collided with the table, and she felt rage building up inside of her. The least they could do was scold them for bad table manners or something!

She was beginning to feel Kojiro's distress. The fact that they refused to even recognize the oddities of the trio was worse than any scolding or discussion of any kind however condescending. A strong urge went through her to stand up right then and there and smack the both of them.

She did not have long to dwell on such thoughts, for at that moment Kojiro abruptly lifted his head and stood up.

"Excuse me," he said in a very somber, little voice, "I don't feel well. If it's not out of the question, I'd like to go to bed."

Mr. Niwa nodded. "You may be excused."

"Rest," agreed Mrs. Niwa. "You must be exhausted."

At least they were speaking, but hey! Wait a minute!

If Kojiro was leaving, that meant that she would be alone with Mr. and Mrs. Niwa, and Nyaasu had already leapt onto Kojiro's head as he withdrew from the dining room. Musashi turned from the closing dining room door to the couple in question who seemed to be deliberately avoiding her gaze at first, but she when glared long enough, both Mr. and Mrs. Niwa lifted their heads to her almost simultaneously.

Musashi forced another smile.

"Excuse me," she said. "I think I'm just going to go make sure Nyaasu doesn't make a mess."

"Do what you need to do," was the light reply from Mr. Niwa.

They were inhuman, that's what they were. Were they always like this? The last time Musashi was here, they had been as far as she recalled, but they could not possibly always be like this, could they? She would have to ask Kojiro, but then maybe little boy Kojiro did not see them often. After all, Kojiro was the complete opposite of them; they certainly could not have raised him. A bunch of nannies and governesses much have raised him before he ran away.

These two people did not even look at Musashi as she left, but as she hastened to the steps she thought she heard their voices murmuring inside.

Musashi paused and listened, but she could make nothing out. Maybe it was nothing at all. She thought that what she had heard could have been air from the central air system or something the servants were whispering about.

Still, Musashi leered suspiciously at the dining room door a moment before she finally took to the stairs, and she could not help but wonder what those two possibly talked about when they weren't talking about Rumika and their son's marriage to her. What could they possibly have to say with no one else around?

#

There came a poised rap on the door. It was amazing how something as simple as knocking could be made into an aristocratic art form, Kojiro thought after he nearly leapt clean out of his skin from the sound much more than he would have if it had been a loud bang instead. That would have meant Musashi. Nyaasu was in the adjoining room checking out the books and movies (they still kept a vast collection of Kojiro's old VHS tapes and early DVDs) and music CDs, and deciding what was best to use to relax before bed, so it would not have been him (at least that meant Nyaasu wasn't snooping around in the kitchen). The rap on the door proved so light that Nyaasu did not notice it, and Kojiro knew, somehow he knew, that rap could not be the rap of a servant.

He bit his lip, and scooted off his bed, tiptoeing toward the door.

Had his parents finally something to tell him? It seemed highly possible that they had something to say that they had not wished to share in the presence of Musashi.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, and with worry alongside a good case of sincere curiosity, Kojiro dared to open the door.

"Hello," he said timidly, and yes, just as he had suspected, Mr. and Mrs. Niwa stood in the hallway before him.

"May we speak with you?" asked Mr. Niwa.

Kojiro nodded before he could manage a little squeak of consent that had meant to be the word "Sure" and the more proper phrase "Of course" coming out unfortunately at the same time to form nothing intelligible. Opening the door further, he allowed his parents inside, but they remained in the doorway.

"It will only take a moment," Mrs. Niwa assured him.

Mr. Niwa meanwhile glanced through the open doorway behind which Nyaasu could be heard still rummaging.

Clearing his throat, Kojiro said, "It's just Nyaasu. Musashi's … uh …" Come to think of it, he did not know where Musashi was. He gulped. Surely she was just in her room sleeping. Right? After all, if she had been up to something, Nyaasu would have been with her, right?

Now it was Kojiro who glanced distrustfully toward the sound of Nyaasu's rummaging, but he turned quickly back to his parents.

"She's not here at the moment," Kojiro said.

"About your friend," said Mr. Niwa.

Again Kojiro gulped.

"She seems to be always with you," said Mrs. Niwa.

"She seems very fond of you as well," said Mr. Niwa.

"Is this the reason why you did not want to marry Rumika? Is she …" Mrs. Niwa continued but hesitated before she could complete the thought.

In his start, Kojiro leapt forward strangely and nearly tripped right over the doorway and into his parents, but he quickly recovered himself physically, at least.

"No!" he gasped with a violent shake of his head. "No! She's just—just—just, uh, a friend. She was my partner at my, uh …"

"Team Rocket?" asked Mr. Niwa.

"Yes!" gasped Kojiro and calmed a little. "Yes, she's just a friend. We're not together."

Mr. Niwa still remained as motionless and emotionless as ever, after this last sentence, Mrs. Niwa smiled a little.

"Kojiro," she said. "You don't have to worry about the past. We want you to know that."

"It's completely forgotten," Mr. Niwa assured him.

"But what about Rumika's family?"

Both parents looked annoyed by their very mention, so much that Kojiro had to wonder what the family had actually come to say to his parents. It made him uneasy. Her family was much like her, violently proper in a bizarre whirl of contrast between the regally poised and the wildly impetuous. Not always a bad thing as far as the individual members went, but it certainly was in the case of Rumika, and certainly if the family had been angered it would not have been a pretty sight for the very quiet and reserved Niwa family.

"They need not be mentioned," said Mr. Niwa calmly.

"Ever again," added Mrs. Niwa with extra grace.

Somehow, Kojiro did not feel as relieved or as comforted as he would have thought he would be hearing these words coming from his parents' mouths. If only they had said these things the last time he had come home. A year ago now, maybe two, but it felt like a life time ago just as everything else did before his brain-melting experiences in that strange world he had come from not even two weeks ago yet.

"Oyasumi nasai, Kojiro," said Mr. Niwa as he quietly turned to leave.

Mrs. Niwa graced Kojiro with another smile, a smile that Kojiro almost shook to see, a smile of genuine parental love. Then she followed her husband down the hall as she glided along in her long, red dress.

"Good night," Kojiro said as them, and he quietly closed the door.

The second he turned, he let out a squeak of surprise to see Nyaasu standing just beside him.

"So that's what they were so worked up about, nyuh?" asked Nyaasu, lifting a CD from the pile in his arms and examining the back of it with distaste.

"What do you mean?" demanded Kojiro.

"They were worried that you were going to marry Musashi, nya," said Nyaasu with a shrug, then looking up he said, "Kojiro, how come almost all you got is kiddy music?"

Kojiro rolled his eyes. "Uh, because I was a little boy."

"Nya, I thought you did like Musashi, nya," Nyaasu murmured as he picked up another CD from his armload.

"Nyaasu," grumbled Kojiro stepping back into the room past him.

He flopped backwards onto his bed and after a moment of stillness, he ran his fingers through his hair with a heavy sigh.

"Hey, you kny-ow the couple game boy games you mixed up with this, nya?" Nyaasu cried excitedly. "Mario! Classic."

"I don't wanna marry Musashi," said Kojiro.

With another careless shrug, Nyaasu said, "Well how 'bout when you guys get all mushy together and—"

"I don't wanna marry Musashi!" Kojiro screamed. "I don't like her like that!" He shook his head and leered at Nyaasu.

Nyaasu looked up with full attention from his stack with eyes great round disks.

"Alright, alright, nya …" he said and returned to his stack.

"I mean, come on, would you wanna marry Musashi?" Kojiro demanded.

"Ny-o," said Nyaasu bluntly as he ran up to the bed and hopped to the foot of it. "But then she's a human and I'm a cat."

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," Kojiro said. He paused, staring up at the ceiling blankly, and after another pause, he said, "the game boy should be in the cupboards with the movies if you want it. I'm going to bed."

A thoughtful look crossed Nyaasu with the cock of his head. Reaching down to set his pile of media next to the bed, he looked up at Kojiro again and said, "Nyah, I'll just go to bed too." Before Kojiro could protest; though, he really had no intention of protesting, the little cat dove for the covers and made himself comfortable on one of the four pillows set on at the head of the bed.

With a light roll of his eyes, Kojiro, who was already in pajamas and robe, slipped off the robe, setting it on the corner of the head board and smuggled under the covers on the other side of the bed. However, no sooner had he turned out the light and closed his eyes when he heard the door handle creak. Both he and Nyaasu shot up, but it was only to see Musashi.

In a night gown and slippers, Musashi stood, her face set with round, puppy-sad eyes, like a child afraid of the dark and silently begging her parents to let her sleep with them as she clutched onto the door handle with had cheek to the door …

Nyaasu and Kojiro scooted over to allow room, and Musashi slipped inside, closing the door behind her.

"It's like the place is haunted when it's dark," Musashi grumbled accusingly as an explanation for her presence here.

She reached the bed and made herself comfortable on the other side of Nyaasu with her back to him. Kojiro followed the example and Nyaasu nestled down comfortably in the middle. Not long after this, the bed erupted with little snores.