Chapter Nine
The next day Kyo began to work again early in the morning, opening all of the garage doors (there were three total) to feel some fresh air, and hopefully get rid of some of the unknown stench leaking undoubtedly from one of the boxes nearby filled with God knows what. There seemed to be parts and pieces of cars and appliances all over the place; fixing things was obviously Ichiro's life.
An hour or so into the day, Kyo got up to stretch, having crawled under an old jeep earlier that morning and not moved since. His face and arms were covered with smears of grease and dirt, but he still looked fairly clean. He looked out onto the street, and noticed a figure walking into town. It turned out to be Saya, the woman-child from the day before, with two children in tow, each holding one of her hands. Both were wearing backpacks that didn't look particularly full, but it probably gave them the feeling of really going to school.
Saya was wearing a similar dress as the one from yesterday, only this one was navy blue with white poka dots. Her curly blonde hair was still pulled back into a large, messy bun. For a moment, Kyo wondered what it might look like down. Then he turned away before he saw that Saya herself had looked over to see him standing in the garage, wiping his hands with one of those grease-stained, red mechanic's towels.
-
It was early afternoon, and Ichiro was holed up in a room somewhere in the house while Kyo continued to work on the jeep.
'God damn piece of shit!" Kyo exclaimed to himself as it leaked oil all over his face. The car wasn't worth the effort. Suddenly, a pair of tiny feet appeared next to his waist, followed a pair of tiny hands, and finally a tiny head that peered at him under the car. Kyo quickly grabbed his sunglasses and rolled out from under the car, to stand at his full height and stare at the young boy still crouched on the ground. Kyo gave him one of most annoyed glares he could summon up, one that would have withered most men, but the boy just looked up at him in awe.
'Not to bright, are we,' Kyo thought as he lifted an eyebrow.
"Hotaro, come here, you're going to become filthy," punctuated the air. While it sounded like a comment only a middle-aged housewife would have said, it was distinctly uttered by the mouth of a twelve-year-old girl, directed toward the seven year old Hotaro. Kyo looked up with his annoyed glance, hands on hips, ready to fry whoever so happened to be the cause of all this commotion. What he saw was Saya walking up the drive way and a precocious little girl glaring just as evilly at Hotaro, who was apparently the rather unintelligent child who had broken Kyo's peace and quiet.
Kyo walked to the door that led into the laundry room and yelled for Ichiro, who came quickly with a puzzle look on his face that quickly dispersed upon seeing his guests.
"Welcome! How was school?" Ichiro asked Mahiro, who replied simply that it was 'silly.' When Ichiro inquired what made it silly, Mahiro replied that no one cared about learning, and instead yelled and chased each other. She herself apparently spent her days reading. Kyo raised an eyebrow again at what appeared to be the most elitist and intellectual twelve-year-old to have ever walked the earth.
"Well, at least you know what's important! Why don't we go inside and have some snacks. Kyo, you come in too." And with that, they all filed inside the house, Kyo bringing up the rear, and scowling the entire time, though no one could see it since none had eyes in the backs of their heads.
-
Inside it was nice and cool, since there were no windows in the kitchen to let any of the hot afternoon sun into the room (all windows faced the east, where the sun rose over the mountains). They all sat at the table, while Ichiro kept prompting Mahiro to tell him about school. The more she talked, the more she calmed down and the elitist tone began to leave her voice. It was quickly revealed that some boys had been giving her trouble, in fact, one of them was the elder Aizawa boy from across the street, and she didn't know why, but thought it was silly for them to taunt her.
"Silly Mahiro, they like you. Boys aren't good at expressing emotions at so young an age," was Ichiro's reply.
'Or ever, for that matter,' replied Kyo in his head. He wasn't exactly the touchy-feely kind, as would have been evident to anyone who saw him on the street.
Kyo then turned his attention to the woman sitting near him, who kept her mouth closed as tightly as a child who had just been reprimanded and now felt guilty. Hotaro was currently trying to pick his nose.
'What a group,' was his only response.
"Hotaro, don't do that, you'll hurt your brain," Mahiro chided.
"No I won't," Hotaro giggled back, continuing on with his prior activities.
"Boys are gross."
"Yes, they are," Ichiro chimed in.
Kyo was beginning to feel very much out of place.
