Aiken
The ship was destroyed, and my bed and blankets and everything familiar and known with it. I've lived on that ship all my seven years, ever since I was a babe, barely weaned. I'm too dumb to remember it, but I'm told that when Frost brought little cub me home -- this was back when they still keeped other servants on board -- that I'd fight and bite and nearly kill anyone who tried to take me away from my Mistress, for who I was born for. This is how she knew I was a very good Inujin.
By now I know I can't be at her side all the time -- there are meetings and appointments where rough me wouldn't be seemly, though far far less than there used to be, and sometimes Frost and my Mistress liked to be alone, though why I couldn't tell you, and sometimes, exspeically now, she just wants to be in private -- I hate this, but I know I have to do it and do it. But right now, as we land beside Goku's home, nothing in the universe could make me leave her for a second. This place is strange...
Green trees, green grass, fresh green, green green green all around, and the little house in the center of it all, sparkling clean and smelling of good, clean things and good food. There's another stranger in there.
I clamp my jaw and follow my Mistress inside as she follows Goku through the doorway. She's breathing harder than she ought to be.
Comfy arm chairs, a low couch and cushions on the floor. Nice place to rest, and my Mistress needs to sleep. The floors hard wood, warm under my feet. I forgot my boots -- I hope she doesn't get mad. But hey, Son slips off his shoes at the door, and Uragiru copies him, and the woman who greets him is barefoot, so maybe I'm not too embarrassing. But still, it's bad of me.
But the woman -- she's smallish, and a bit past her prime, but fierce, her eyes sharp and black-gray hair tied up in a bun and bleached apron swaying heavily under the weights sewn inside it. Don't think I'll be first to make trouble with her, I don't think.
She stands in front of us, white, tough hands on her hips, sharp eyes moving from one of us to the other to the other. "Goten said we might be having guests," she says to Goku. Then glancing back at my Mistress in a way I don't like at all, she says disapprovingly, "Friends of Mr. Piccolo, I would think?"
"Nah," Son says, "Just some foreigners. Is dinner ready?" He looks past her and into the next room with hopeful eyes.
"Be patient," she says, and approaches me, staring me in the face like she's trying to decide some great judgment. She says to Uragiru, like she's in charge and not my Mistress, "I don't allow pets inside the house."
"Pets?" I shouted, "Pet!" and she stepped back, slightly flustered; my teeth'll do that.
"Pets are without worth or use," my Mistress says mildly, "Aiken is no pet." This means I have worth, doesn't it? I'm proud.
"Chichi," Goku insisted. "I'm hungry."
"So am I," I said, then knew I shouldn't have. It's rude, you know.
Frigid glared at me, and I shrink down. "We will be a burdened to you," she says out of politeness and bows deeply.
This, I see, is how to get on the woman Chichi's good side; manners, etiquette, properness. I can never do these things right, so maybe she'll hate me...
"Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes," she says, and turns back to the kitchen. I'm hungry now....
_____________________________
The table's crowded with plates and bowls and cups and palters and people. I'm jammed in next to the boy with my Mistress at my other side, and I sit with my belly far from the table, trying not to crowd her.
The food looks funny -- a lot of puffy white stuff -- and I don't even know what to do with the stick things. Goku and his family picked theirs up, and balancing them between their fingers, began to eat. My Mistress and Uragiru watched them for a brief moment, then picked up their own sticks and with very little trouble started their meals also.
I'm starving, but my hands are big and clumsy and my claws are in the way, and I can't get more than a grain or two of the white stuff to my mouth at once. When I try for a piece of meat it falls, rolling across the table and onto the floor.
Eyeing the others I sit my sticks down and hook a bit of flesh with my claw. Instantly three sets of offended eyes are on me -- my Mistress, Uragiru and Chichi -- and I returned it to the plate shamefully. Stupid me.
"Here," the boy says cheerfully, standing and moving to behind my chair. I don't want the stranger where I can't see him, but he says "see, like this," and guides my one of my hands to lift the bowl half way to my mouth and the other to hold the sticks properly. "Got it?" I grin and show him how I've got it.
"Very good, Aiken," my Mistress says without raising her eyes, string her food around, and I look toward her, happy and eating quick, trying to remember to keep my mouth closed. See? I'm good. I'm very good.
She isn't eating, not really; just moving the food around and around and raising some to her mouth almost never. I sit my empty bowl down. "Aren't you hungry, lady Frigid?" I asked.
"I'm eating," she says, in a tone that says I ought not to argue. But she isn't really, and she never does. "Anyway," my Mistress goes on, "You'd better look after yourself and be careful our honorable host doesn't out eat you," and nods toward Goku, who's packing it in. The way she says this it's clear that I should make sure he doesn't win, in this at least. "No one's capable of eating more than an Inujin," she says to them pleasantly, but as a kind of challenge. I've heard people say Saiyajin take great pride in their stomachs.
"You don't know my dad!" the boy says. He thinks the lady Frigid is just playing. The lady Frigid never plays.
So I pile my plate and bowls with even more food than his, and dig in.
Two servings. Three. Chichi, Uragiru and my Mistress have set their plates aside and are only watching me and Son and the boy go on. Chichi stands every few minutes to retrieve more great planters from the kitchen. Foreign as the food is, its easy to tell Son's woman is a much better cook than Uragiru. Of course she couldn't stand besides Frost, but no one ever could have.
Four. Five. Six. The boy's dropped out, though he still grins, one elbow resting on the table (until Chichi told him to take it off) the other holding his belly like it aches.
Nine. Chichi has retreated into the kitchen to stay, from where the sounds and scents of fresh food cooking can be heard, and only blinks in and out to place a new dish on the table. She might know from Goku, and she might have expected guests, but she never saw me coming.
Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen servings. My belly's swelled up and I think I might pop something, but Son's plates are still full and my are empty, waiting for Chichi to bring the next load.
"That's it," she said, stepping into the room and glaring at Goku while she set the last bowl full down. "You two ate it all."
Son groaned and pushed his plate away. "I think I'm full," he said, pulling himself up from the table.
I sighed happy. See? I win. This time I do win.
Yawn big mouth. Sleepy.
The ship was destroyed, and my bed and blankets and everything familiar and known with it. I've lived on that ship all my seven years, ever since I was a babe, barely weaned. I'm too dumb to remember it, but I'm told that when Frost brought little cub me home -- this was back when they still keeped other servants on board -- that I'd fight and bite and nearly kill anyone who tried to take me away from my Mistress, for who I was born for. This is how she knew I was a very good Inujin.
By now I know I can't be at her side all the time -- there are meetings and appointments where rough me wouldn't be seemly, though far far less than there used to be, and sometimes Frost and my Mistress liked to be alone, though why I couldn't tell you, and sometimes, exspeically now, she just wants to be in private -- I hate this, but I know I have to do it and do it. But right now, as we land beside Goku's home, nothing in the universe could make me leave her for a second. This place is strange...
Green trees, green grass, fresh green, green green green all around, and the little house in the center of it all, sparkling clean and smelling of good, clean things and good food. There's another stranger in there.
I clamp my jaw and follow my Mistress inside as she follows Goku through the doorway. She's breathing harder than she ought to be.
Comfy arm chairs, a low couch and cushions on the floor. Nice place to rest, and my Mistress needs to sleep. The floors hard wood, warm under my feet. I forgot my boots -- I hope she doesn't get mad. But hey, Son slips off his shoes at the door, and Uragiru copies him, and the woman who greets him is barefoot, so maybe I'm not too embarrassing. But still, it's bad of me.
But the woman -- she's smallish, and a bit past her prime, but fierce, her eyes sharp and black-gray hair tied up in a bun and bleached apron swaying heavily under the weights sewn inside it. Don't think I'll be first to make trouble with her, I don't think.
She stands in front of us, white, tough hands on her hips, sharp eyes moving from one of us to the other to the other. "Goten said we might be having guests," she says to Goku. Then glancing back at my Mistress in a way I don't like at all, she says disapprovingly, "Friends of Mr. Piccolo, I would think?"
"Nah," Son says, "Just some foreigners. Is dinner ready?" He looks past her and into the next room with hopeful eyes.
"Be patient," she says, and approaches me, staring me in the face like she's trying to decide some great judgment. She says to Uragiru, like she's in charge and not my Mistress, "I don't allow pets inside the house."
"Pets?" I shouted, "Pet!" and she stepped back, slightly flustered; my teeth'll do that.
"Pets are without worth or use," my Mistress says mildly, "Aiken is no pet." This means I have worth, doesn't it? I'm proud.
"Chichi," Goku insisted. "I'm hungry."
"So am I," I said, then knew I shouldn't have. It's rude, you know.
Frigid glared at me, and I shrink down. "We will be a burdened to you," she says out of politeness and bows deeply.
This, I see, is how to get on the woman Chichi's good side; manners, etiquette, properness. I can never do these things right, so maybe she'll hate me...
"Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes," she says, and turns back to the kitchen. I'm hungry now....
_____________________________
The table's crowded with plates and bowls and cups and palters and people. I'm jammed in next to the boy with my Mistress at my other side, and I sit with my belly far from the table, trying not to crowd her.
The food looks funny -- a lot of puffy white stuff -- and I don't even know what to do with the stick things. Goku and his family picked theirs up, and balancing them between their fingers, began to eat. My Mistress and Uragiru watched them for a brief moment, then picked up their own sticks and with very little trouble started their meals also.
I'm starving, but my hands are big and clumsy and my claws are in the way, and I can't get more than a grain or two of the white stuff to my mouth at once. When I try for a piece of meat it falls, rolling across the table and onto the floor.
Eyeing the others I sit my sticks down and hook a bit of flesh with my claw. Instantly three sets of offended eyes are on me -- my Mistress, Uragiru and Chichi -- and I returned it to the plate shamefully. Stupid me.
"Here," the boy says cheerfully, standing and moving to behind my chair. I don't want the stranger where I can't see him, but he says "see, like this," and guides my one of my hands to lift the bowl half way to my mouth and the other to hold the sticks properly. "Got it?" I grin and show him how I've got it.
"Very good, Aiken," my Mistress says without raising her eyes, string her food around, and I look toward her, happy and eating quick, trying to remember to keep my mouth closed. See? I'm good. I'm very good.
She isn't eating, not really; just moving the food around and around and raising some to her mouth almost never. I sit my empty bowl down. "Aren't you hungry, lady Frigid?" I asked.
"I'm eating," she says, in a tone that says I ought not to argue. But she isn't really, and she never does. "Anyway," my Mistress goes on, "You'd better look after yourself and be careful our honorable host doesn't out eat you," and nods toward Goku, who's packing it in. The way she says this it's clear that I should make sure he doesn't win, in this at least. "No one's capable of eating more than an Inujin," she says to them pleasantly, but as a kind of challenge. I've heard people say Saiyajin take great pride in their stomachs.
"You don't know my dad!" the boy says. He thinks the lady Frigid is just playing. The lady Frigid never plays.
So I pile my plate and bowls with even more food than his, and dig in.
Two servings. Three. Chichi, Uragiru and my Mistress have set their plates aside and are only watching me and Son and the boy go on. Chichi stands every few minutes to retrieve more great planters from the kitchen. Foreign as the food is, its easy to tell Son's woman is a much better cook than Uragiru. Of course she couldn't stand besides Frost, but no one ever could have.
Four. Five. Six. The boy's dropped out, though he still grins, one elbow resting on the table (until Chichi told him to take it off) the other holding his belly like it aches.
Nine. Chichi has retreated into the kitchen to stay, from where the sounds and scents of fresh food cooking can be heard, and only blinks in and out to place a new dish on the table. She might know from Goku, and she might have expected guests, but she never saw me coming.
Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen servings. My belly's swelled up and I think I might pop something, but Son's plates are still full and my are empty, waiting for Chichi to bring the next load.
"That's it," she said, stepping into the room and glaring at Goku while she set the last bowl full down. "You two ate it all."
Son groaned and pushed his plate away. "I think I'm full," he said, pulling himself up from the table.
I sighed happy. See? I win. This time I do win.
Yawn big mouth. Sleepy.