Author's Note: Hello! Sorry for yet another semi-long wait, but my
all my teachers decided to throw some end of the quarter exams last week,
which I was forced to cram for. Hey, at least I got a 97% on my Algebra II
test! Well, I'm gonna answer just a few reviews up here.
AngelFade - Nah, as far as I'm concerned, Mami's gonna live!
Ledophole - I know, who doesn't want to see some action between those two? But I really don't wanna rush 'em. We all know how long it takes for Sana to realize her feelings!
Harmony - I COMPLETELY agree with you. Unfortunately, I realized my huge mistake a few days AFTER I put the chapter out, so it was kind of late. But, I wasn't just going to leave that incident alone. Read this chapter for more details!
Disclaimer: I don't own Kodomo No Omocha or any of its characters. But, starting in this chapter, I do own Genji Mirou and Okura Saichirou. Wanna know who they are? Read on! Oh, and I also don't own the name "El Cinco de Mayo." That's the name of a restaurant near where I live that I'm using in this chapter. I have no idea if there's one in L.A, since I live on the east coast.
* * *
It was such a peaceful day.
The sun shone radiantly in the bright sky, like a penny folded in a blue blanket. Birds wafted through the air, enjoying the warm rays of early April. Some of the neighbors went about their yards, planting various flowers and mowing their lush, green lawns. A black Labrador ran swiftly on the sidewalk, happily chasing after a squirrel.
It really was such a peaceful day.
Unfortunately, the tranquility didn't reach a certain red brick house.
"Aya-chan!!"
Aya sighed, standing up from her vanity seat. She placed her light pink lipstick down on the glass surface, walking to the doorway of her bedroom.
"Yes, Sana-chan?" she asked calmly.
Sana swung open the door leading to her own bedroom, leaning out by bracing herself against the doorframe. Her hair was picked up halfway, falling to her shoulders in soft, spiral curls.
'Fuka must've done her hair,' Aya mused. 'So now she wants..'
"Aya-chan, I need your help with my make-up!" the young actress begged, a pleading look planted on her pretty features.
'Make-up,' Aya finished her thought, grinning saucily at her employer and friend while lounging idly against the doorway.
"How much are you willing to pay me?" she teased, looking at her polished fingernails.
The pleading look on Sana's face was instantly replaced with one of confusion.
"Pay?"
Aya giggled at the actress's reaction. Really, the girl took things way too literally. But then again, the three of them were preparing to meet Hayama Natsumi, one of the most famous singers in Japan and America. But Sana was famous, too. There was really no reason for her to be so nervous.
The make-up artist looped a lock of her light brown hair behind her ear, internally shoving the butterflies out of her own stomach. She wasn't afraid to admit it; she was incredibly nervous as well. It's one thing for a famous actress to have lunch with a famous singer, but where the heck did the make-up artist fit into everything?
Aya wasn't jealous of Sana. She was perfectly content with her own role, doing her best friend's make-up. But it always felt kind of silly introducing herself as "Kurata Sana's make-up artist" to other famous persons. She didn't belong up their with the big-time people. That's what she thought, at least.
"I'm kidding," Aya assured, making her way across the hall to her best friend's room.
Sana grinned, stepping aside to let the brunette in.
Aya stepped onto the cream colored carpet, her mint green heels making slight indentions in the plush lining. She immediately noticed Fuka putting away her expensive set of curlers, confirming her earlier assumptions about Sana's hair.
"So," Aya started, taking in her employer's outfit. "You're definitely wearing that?"
"Uh-huh. Does it look okay?" Sana asked, turning around slowly so her friend could see the whole ensemble.
Aya nodded, approving the dark blue, denim skirt and turquoise tank top - semi-formal, not too casual, yet not too fancy. A good choice for a simple lunch date.
Except it wasn't all that simple, considering they were going out to eat with an incredibly famous singer.
Once again, Aya had to shake off the wave of nervousness that took over her senses. She grinned reassuringly at her friend.
"You look great! Now, as for eye-shadow, let's try 'Ice Mirage,'" she said, picking up the silvery-blue make-up.
* * *
Hayama paced slowly at the foot of the stares, throwing glances at the clock now and then. His sister was ten minutes late.
'You'd think after all these years in her singing career, she'd be more punctual,' he thought grumpily. But in a way, it was a good thing. The girls weren't ready yet, either.
The bodyguard's thoughts lingered a bit on his client. 'I wonder how she's handling everything.'
His memory reeled back to the previous morning, on the plane. He clearly remembered her soft whimpers as she cried against his chest, imprisoned within his arms. It was a shame for someone as pretty as her to shed tears over something that wasn't even her fault.
'Pretty, eh?" he pondered to himself. 'Yeah, she's alright.'
A sharp ringing sound stabbed through the silence as Hayama's cell phone went off. He reached into the black pocket of his dark blue jeans, flipping the phone open as he held it up to his hears.
"Yeah?"
"Mr. Hayama, this is Detective Warren of the L.A. police."
"What do you have for me, Mr. Warren?" Hayama answered, switching into his fluent English tongue.
Detective Warren continued on eagerly. "A few strands of hair were found on the main pilot's corpse. A few of my fellow detectives searched the personal files of all passengers on the plane. Since the strands were of a red color, we were able to narrow it down to four persons. One of those four was a man named Genji Mirou."
"Mirou," Hayama mumbled into the speaker.
"You know him?"
"Yeah. He's a murderer that just got out of jail two weeks ago."
"Not just any murderer," Warren told him. "Before he was in the Tokyo jailhouse, he lived in an asylum. After he was released, he went out and dyed his hair red."
"Have you spoken to him, yet?" Hayama asked.
"That's what I called you about. We brought him here to station, and found loads of pictures in his coat. Every single one of them was of that actress."
Hayama furrowed his eyebrows the slightest bit. "It seems too easy."
"It does," Warren agreed. "But it's not. Mirou kept mumbling about just 'being one in the group,' and would then scream out that more would come. My guess is that there's a ring."
"So it's not over," Hayama murmured. "Could you get anything else out of him?"
"Nothing. Like I said, the guy's insane."
Hayama sighed, looking out the window as a shiny, white car pulled into the circular driveway. A loud horn erupted throughout the silence settling on the front lawn, followed by squeals of excitement from the third floor of the house.
"Alright. Call me if you get any more information." With that, he shut off his phone and opened the door to greet his sister, who was making her way to the front steps.
"Akito, long time no see," the singer said, a wide smile on her face.
"Was the point of honking the horn if you were going to get out of the car?"
Natsumi playfully smacked his arm. "Still the same grouch, as always."
"Natsumi-san?" a timid voice called from the marble stairway. Sana cautiously stepped down, not wanting to trip in her black heels.
"Sana-chan!" Natsumi greeted pushed past her younger brother into the front entrance. She shook the actress's trembling hand, while smiling up at the two other girls a step above.
"Hello," the light-haired one waved shyly.
The one with darker hair bounded down the steps happily. "Hi! Matsui Fuka, pleased to meet you!" she said cheerfully, shaking the singer's free hand. "The 'talkative' one over there is Aya," she explained, pointing to the silent brunette.
"It's nice to meet all of you," Natsumi stated, fingering the car keys placed around her index finger. The ring swiveled around for a bit as she grinned at the group. "Shall we go?"
Sana nodded returning the bright smile. "Where to?"
"I was thinking about 'El Cinco de Mayo.' It's a Mexican restaurant," Natsumi explained as she stepped over the threshold and waltzed down the front steps.
"Mexican, huh?" Sana thought aloud. "I've never had Mexican before."
"It's delicious," Natsumi told them, opening the door of her white Cadillac. "You like Mexican, don't you Akito?"
"I don't hate it," the bodyguard replied as he stepped into the passenger seat.
Sana, Aya, and Fuka filed into the backseat, which was quite spacious. Sana fastened her seatbelt while surveying the car.
"Nice car," Aya complimented, running her fingers over the leather interior.
"She speaks!" Fuka exclaimed, feigning a look of shock.
Natsumi chuckled as she saw the other girl's scowl through the rear- view mirror.
Hayama folded his arms across his broad chest, glancing sideways at his sister. "How is Saichirou?" he asked, no emotion behind his words.
Natsumi grinned. "Okura-kun? He's fine," she commented, looking down at the diamond ring on her finger. "He's still a little upset that I didn't take on his last name, but he'll get over it."
The singer stared back into the rear-view mirror, her eyes focused on the back seat. "By the way, where are your manager and cousin?"
"Mami-chan had an emergency at the clinic," Fuka explained, "and Hisae-chan is out with Gomi-kun."
"Oh, the manager is a female?" Natsumi questioned, raising an eyebrow as she turned the key in the ignition.
"She's the assistant manager," Fuka went on. "Rei-kun is Sana-chan's real manager, but we left him in Japan."
"I see. So, Sana-chan," Natsumi started, the engine purring as it came back to life, "Is my brother treating you nicely?"
Sana shifted uncomfortably in her seat behind the driver. "Well, nothing really big has happened yet, but he's kept me safe."
"Good to know," Natsumi commented as her car drove smoothly down the paved streets.
* * *
The white Cadillac pulled into a perpendicular parking space in front of the Mexican restaurant. "We're here," the singer declared, unlocking the doors to let her friends out.
Sana stepped out slowly, intense smells filling her nostrils instantly. "It smells great!"
Aya inhaled deeply, the smell emanating from the food inside filling her lungs. "Let's go on, I'm starving."
Hayama glanced around, looking for any suspicious figures. A man was reading the newspaper as he lounged against a lamppost. A woman was walking her golden retriever, or rather, IT was walking HER. A few kids were playing with a jump rope on the sidewalk. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. The bodyguard placed a gentle hand on the small of Sana's back, guiding her forward to the restaurant.
Natsumi watched the actions of her younger brother, allowing a mischievous smile to crease her lips. She remembered the way he acted around his previous client - some daughter of a wealthy businessman in Japan. He was very irritated with the blonde girl, and never showed an ounce of anxiety for her. At least he finished the job.
The way Hayama was when he stood by the young actress slightly surprised Natsumi. She could see the concern flickering in his eyes every now and then, and his protective gestures. For someone who had known him for eighteen years, it was easy to pick out.
The bell above the glass door jingled musically as Natsumi entered, followed by the rest of her party. "Natsumi Hayama with a reservation for 12:30," she told the hostess.
The girl's eyes widened at the sight of the famous singer, as she rummaged for a piece of paper. Not finding anything, she settled for a loose napkin. "C-Could you sign this, please?" she stuttered, holding out the napkin and a ballpoint pen.
Natsumi smiled. "Sure," she agreed, signing her name on the paper- towel.
"Right this way," the hostess squeaked, folding the autograph and placing it in the pocket of her apron. She led them to a table by a large bay window, immediately handing out menus. "You're waiter will be here soon," she told them as she walked back to her post at the entrance.
"Fans," Natsumi chuckled. "Where would we be without them, eh Sana- chan?"
Sana nodded, a giggle escaping from her lips. "It is nice to get away sometimes, though."
"Don't get too comfortable," the singer warned. "Some of the people here know of you from that one movie you did a few years ago in America."
"You mean 'Water Palace?'" Sana asked, laughing loudly. "I was only fourteen!"
"But you were the main character," Fuka reminded her.
"Well," Natsumi stood up from the booth, swinging her purse over her shoulder, "I need to go to the ladies room. Come with me, Sana-chan."
Sana stood up, slightly bewildered. "Okay."
Hayama watched as the two girls headed for the restroom, before standing up as well.
"What are you doing?" Aya asked him, taking a sip from the glass of water on the table.
"My job," he answered curtly, striding over to stand next to the door. He could just barely hear the mumbles inside the room as his sister and client talked.
* * *
Natsumi reached into her purse, pulling out a white come and running it through her chin-length brown hair. Her strokes were smooth and graceful, much more refined than Sana thought she, herself, would ever be.
"So, when did Akito start working for you?" Natsumi asked, peering over at the actress.
Sana looped a lock of her chestnut brown hair behind her ear. "Oh, just a few days."
"He told me about the letters," Natsumi said softly, slowly putting her comb away.
Sana's shoulders stiffened as she played with her fingers nervously. "What about the pilots?"
The singer nodded. "That too. You know, I once received frightening letters, too."
Sana's eyes widened at the revelation. "Really?"
"Yes. I had to hire a bodyguard, too," Natsumi went on.
"What happened to him?" the actress asked, a frown creasing her brow.
A wide grin surfaced on Natsumi's face as her eyes glittered lovingly. "I married him."
* * *
Author's Note: Hehehehehe! Perhaps a taste of things to come? Well, I'm not sure yet, but we'll see in the future chapters! Anyway, sorry for any spelling or grammatical errors, but I'm way too lazy to check. Besides, I've gotta clean my room. Ta-ta for now!
AngelFade - Nah, as far as I'm concerned, Mami's gonna live!
Ledophole - I know, who doesn't want to see some action between those two? But I really don't wanna rush 'em. We all know how long it takes for Sana to realize her feelings!
Harmony - I COMPLETELY agree with you. Unfortunately, I realized my huge mistake a few days AFTER I put the chapter out, so it was kind of late. But, I wasn't just going to leave that incident alone. Read this chapter for more details!
Disclaimer: I don't own Kodomo No Omocha or any of its characters. But, starting in this chapter, I do own Genji Mirou and Okura Saichirou. Wanna know who they are? Read on! Oh, and I also don't own the name "El Cinco de Mayo." That's the name of a restaurant near where I live that I'm using in this chapter. I have no idea if there's one in L.A, since I live on the east coast.
* * *
It was such a peaceful day.
The sun shone radiantly in the bright sky, like a penny folded in a blue blanket. Birds wafted through the air, enjoying the warm rays of early April. Some of the neighbors went about their yards, planting various flowers and mowing their lush, green lawns. A black Labrador ran swiftly on the sidewalk, happily chasing after a squirrel.
It really was such a peaceful day.
Unfortunately, the tranquility didn't reach a certain red brick house.
"Aya-chan!!"
Aya sighed, standing up from her vanity seat. She placed her light pink lipstick down on the glass surface, walking to the doorway of her bedroom.
"Yes, Sana-chan?" she asked calmly.
Sana swung open the door leading to her own bedroom, leaning out by bracing herself against the doorframe. Her hair was picked up halfway, falling to her shoulders in soft, spiral curls.
'Fuka must've done her hair,' Aya mused. 'So now she wants..'
"Aya-chan, I need your help with my make-up!" the young actress begged, a pleading look planted on her pretty features.
'Make-up,' Aya finished her thought, grinning saucily at her employer and friend while lounging idly against the doorway.
"How much are you willing to pay me?" she teased, looking at her polished fingernails.
The pleading look on Sana's face was instantly replaced with one of confusion.
"Pay?"
Aya giggled at the actress's reaction. Really, the girl took things way too literally. But then again, the three of them were preparing to meet Hayama Natsumi, one of the most famous singers in Japan and America. But Sana was famous, too. There was really no reason for her to be so nervous.
The make-up artist looped a lock of her light brown hair behind her ear, internally shoving the butterflies out of her own stomach. She wasn't afraid to admit it; she was incredibly nervous as well. It's one thing for a famous actress to have lunch with a famous singer, but where the heck did the make-up artist fit into everything?
Aya wasn't jealous of Sana. She was perfectly content with her own role, doing her best friend's make-up. But it always felt kind of silly introducing herself as "Kurata Sana's make-up artist" to other famous persons. She didn't belong up their with the big-time people. That's what she thought, at least.
"I'm kidding," Aya assured, making her way across the hall to her best friend's room.
Sana grinned, stepping aside to let the brunette in.
Aya stepped onto the cream colored carpet, her mint green heels making slight indentions in the plush lining. She immediately noticed Fuka putting away her expensive set of curlers, confirming her earlier assumptions about Sana's hair.
"So," Aya started, taking in her employer's outfit. "You're definitely wearing that?"
"Uh-huh. Does it look okay?" Sana asked, turning around slowly so her friend could see the whole ensemble.
Aya nodded, approving the dark blue, denim skirt and turquoise tank top - semi-formal, not too casual, yet not too fancy. A good choice for a simple lunch date.
Except it wasn't all that simple, considering they were going out to eat with an incredibly famous singer.
Once again, Aya had to shake off the wave of nervousness that took over her senses. She grinned reassuringly at her friend.
"You look great! Now, as for eye-shadow, let's try 'Ice Mirage,'" she said, picking up the silvery-blue make-up.
* * *
Hayama paced slowly at the foot of the stares, throwing glances at the clock now and then. His sister was ten minutes late.
'You'd think after all these years in her singing career, she'd be more punctual,' he thought grumpily. But in a way, it was a good thing. The girls weren't ready yet, either.
The bodyguard's thoughts lingered a bit on his client. 'I wonder how she's handling everything.'
His memory reeled back to the previous morning, on the plane. He clearly remembered her soft whimpers as she cried against his chest, imprisoned within his arms. It was a shame for someone as pretty as her to shed tears over something that wasn't even her fault.
'Pretty, eh?" he pondered to himself. 'Yeah, she's alright.'
A sharp ringing sound stabbed through the silence as Hayama's cell phone went off. He reached into the black pocket of his dark blue jeans, flipping the phone open as he held it up to his hears.
"Yeah?"
"Mr. Hayama, this is Detective Warren of the L.A. police."
"What do you have for me, Mr. Warren?" Hayama answered, switching into his fluent English tongue.
Detective Warren continued on eagerly. "A few strands of hair were found on the main pilot's corpse. A few of my fellow detectives searched the personal files of all passengers on the plane. Since the strands were of a red color, we were able to narrow it down to four persons. One of those four was a man named Genji Mirou."
"Mirou," Hayama mumbled into the speaker.
"You know him?"
"Yeah. He's a murderer that just got out of jail two weeks ago."
"Not just any murderer," Warren told him. "Before he was in the Tokyo jailhouse, he lived in an asylum. After he was released, he went out and dyed his hair red."
"Have you spoken to him, yet?" Hayama asked.
"That's what I called you about. We brought him here to station, and found loads of pictures in his coat. Every single one of them was of that actress."
Hayama furrowed his eyebrows the slightest bit. "It seems too easy."
"It does," Warren agreed. "But it's not. Mirou kept mumbling about just 'being one in the group,' and would then scream out that more would come. My guess is that there's a ring."
"So it's not over," Hayama murmured. "Could you get anything else out of him?"
"Nothing. Like I said, the guy's insane."
Hayama sighed, looking out the window as a shiny, white car pulled into the circular driveway. A loud horn erupted throughout the silence settling on the front lawn, followed by squeals of excitement from the third floor of the house.
"Alright. Call me if you get any more information." With that, he shut off his phone and opened the door to greet his sister, who was making her way to the front steps.
"Akito, long time no see," the singer said, a wide smile on her face.
"Was the point of honking the horn if you were going to get out of the car?"
Natsumi playfully smacked his arm. "Still the same grouch, as always."
"Natsumi-san?" a timid voice called from the marble stairway. Sana cautiously stepped down, not wanting to trip in her black heels.
"Sana-chan!" Natsumi greeted pushed past her younger brother into the front entrance. She shook the actress's trembling hand, while smiling up at the two other girls a step above.
"Hello," the light-haired one waved shyly.
The one with darker hair bounded down the steps happily. "Hi! Matsui Fuka, pleased to meet you!" she said cheerfully, shaking the singer's free hand. "The 'talkative' one over there is Aya," she explained, pointing to the silent brunette.
"It's nice to meet all of you," Natsumi stated, fingering the car keys placed around her index finger. The ring swiveled around for a bit as she grinned at the group. "Shall we go?"
Sana nodded returning the bright smile. "Where to?"
"I was thinking about 'El Cinco de Mayo.' It's a Mexican restaurant," Natsumi explained as she stepped over the threshold and waltzed down the front steps.
"Mexican, huh?" Sana thought aloud. "I've never had Mexican before."
"It's delicious," Natsumi told them, opening the door of her white Cadillac. "You like Mexican, don't you Akito?"
"I don't hate it," the bodyguard replied as he stepped into the passenger seat.
Sana, Aya, and Fuka filed into the backseat, which was quite spacious. Sana fastened her seatbelt while surveying the car.
"Nice car," Aya complimented, running her fingers over the leather interior.
"She speaks!" Fuka exclaimed, feigning a look of shock.
Natsumi chuckled as she saw the other girl's scowl through the rear- view mirror.
Hayama folded his arms across his broad chest, glancing sideways at his sister. "How is Saichirou?" he asked, no emotion behind his words.
Natsumi grinned. "Okura-kun? He's fine," she commented, looking down at the diamond ring on her finger. "He's still a little upset that I didn't take on his last name, but he'll get over it."
The singer stared back into the rear-view mirror, her eyes focused on the back seat. "By the way, where are your manager and cousin?"
"Mami-chan had an emergency at the clinic," Fuka explained, "and Hisae-chan is out with Gomi-kun."
"Oh, the manager is a female?" Natsumi questioned, raising an eyebrow as she turned the key in the ignition.
"She's the assistant manager," Fuka went on. "Rei-kun is Sana-chan's real manager, but we left him in Japan."
"I see. So, Sana-chan," Natsumi started, the engine purring as it came back to life, "Is my brother treating you nicely?"
Sana shifted uncomfortably in her seat behind the driver. "Well, nothing really big has happened yet, but he's kept me safe."
"Good to know," Natsumi commented as her car drove smoothly down the paved streets.
* * *
The white Cadillac pulled into a perpendicular parking space in front of the Mexican restaurant. "We're here," the singer declared, unlocking the doors to let her friends out.
Sana stepped out slowly, intense smells filling her nostrils instantly. "It smells great!"
Aya inhaled deeply, the smell emanating from the food inside filling her lungs. "Let's go on, I'm starving."
Hayama glanced around, looking for any suspicious figures. A man was reading the newspaper as he lounged against a lamppost. A woman was walking her golden retriever, or rather, IT was walking HER. A few kids were playing with a jump rope on the sidewalk. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. The bodyguard placed a gentle hand on the small of Sana's back, guiding her forward to the restaurant.
Natsumi watched the actions of her younger brother, allowing a mischievous smile to crease her lips. She remembered the way he acted around his previous client - some daughter of a wealthy businessman in Japan. He was very irritated with the blonde girl, and never showed an ounce of anxiety for her. At least he finished the job.
The way Hayama was when he stood by the young actress slightly surprised Natsumi. She could see the concern flickering in his eyes every now and then, and his protective gestures. For someone who had known him for eighteen years, it was easy to pick out.
The bell above the glass door jingled musically as Natsumi entered, followed by the rest of her party. "Natsumi Hayama with a reservation for 12:30," she told the hostess.
The girl's eyes widened at the sight of the famous singer, as she rummaged for a piece of paper. Not finding anything, she settled for a loose napkin. "C-Could you sign this, please?" she stuttered, holding out the napkin and a ballpoint pen.
Natsumi smiled. "Sure," she agreed, signing her name on the paper- towel.
"Right this way," the hostess squeaked, folding the autograph and placing it in the pocket of her apron. She led them to a table by a large bay window, immediately handing out menus. "You're waiter will be here soon," she told them as she walked back to her post at the entrance.
"Fans," Natsumi chuckled. "Where would we be without them, eh Sana- chan?"
Sana nodded, a giggle escaping from her lips. "It is nice to get away sometimes, though."
"Don't get too comfortable," the singer warned. "Some of the people here know of you from that one movie you did a few years ago in America."
"You mean 'Water Palace?'" Sana asked, laughing loudly. "I was only fourteen!"
"But you were the main character," Fuka reminded her.
"Well," Natsumi stood up from the booth, swinging her purse over her shoulder, "I need to go to the ladies room. Come with me, Sana-chan."
Sana stood up, slightly bewildered. "Okay."
Hayama watched as the two girls headed for the restroom, before standing up as well.
"What are you doing?" Aya asked him, taking a sip from the glass of water on the table.
"My job," he answered curtly, striding over to stand next to the door. He could just barely hear the mumbles inside the room as his sister and client talked.
* * *
Natsumi reached into her purse, pulling out a white come and running it through her chin-length brown hair. Her strokes were smooth and graceful, much more refined than Sana thought she, herself, would ever be.
"So, when did Akito start working for you?" Natsumi asked, peering over at the actress.
Sana looped a lock of her chestnut brown hair behind her ear. "Oh, just a few days."
"He told me about the letters," Natsumi said softly, slowly putting her comb away.
Sana's shoulders stiffened as she played with her fingers nervously. "What about the pilots?"
The singer nodded. "That too. You know, I once received frightening letters, too."
Sana's eyes widened at the revelation. "Really?"
"Yes. I had to hire a bodyguard, too," Natsumi went on.
"What happened to him?" the actress asked, a frown creasing her brow.
A wide grin surfaced on Natsumi's face as her eyes glittered lovingly. "I married him."
* * *
Author's Note: Hehehehehe! Perhaps a taste of things to come? Well, I'm not sure yet, but we'll see in the future chapters! Anyway, sorry for any spelling or grammatical errors, but I'm way too lazy to check. Besides, I've gotta clean my room. Ta-ta for now!