Quote of the week: "I hope you bash your head off a corner of tofu and die." - Japanese insult

I'm trying to stay on track. I really aaam... NaNoWriMo shall not sway me from this task! x.x Actually, you know what? This fic has technically beaten the NaNo goal by at least twice over. Not counting this chapter, the word count for CA II is about 105k. Go figure.

Oh, wait, I forgot to put down the rules of "Zap!" last chapter! Stupid me! Simply, you write the word "ZAP!" on the back of someone's hand. If anyone says that person's name (first, middle, last name... it doesn't matter), that person has to say "I love you" to the one who said their name. The game continues until the word "Zap!" is washed/worn off of your hand.

So simple, and yet it amused us for hours... o.o

"So, what was the damage," Suzuki shuffling through the folders placed between him and Rachel. The headmistress could only sigh, and straighten the manila folders Suzuki had left to fall onto her desk.

"Only a dozen or so were taken; but that's no real reason to be relieved."

Suzuki eyed the name on the tab of one of the folders, flipped it open, and read the contents, scanning through the printed pages quickly. "No kidding." He flipped another page, and his eyes widen. "My, my... quite the record. No wonder why the students are encouraged to keep their abilities to themselves -- some of these are plain scary."

Shikyo, although hanging on the edges of the conversation, picked up the discarded pile of folders and shifted through them until a particular name caught his eye. "I think I can see why someone would want this information..."

Ryo peeked around Shikyo's elbow, nearly frustrated enough to shove the cat demon's arm out of the way. "Of all the... no, Shik, move your right hand. My right. Thank you," he casually said, already reading through the data sheet. "Ah, I haven't had him in my class, yet..."

"I have," Shikyo replied, tapping a sharp nail on the student photo that had been clipped to the rather thick paper packet. "Niwa... and right here," he handed another packet to Ryo. "Is St. Pierre."

"This is going downhill rather quickly," Rachel murmured, gazing down on the crowded pathways from the purple-tinted windows. "I was almost thinking of canceling the April vacation trip."

Ryo raised an eyebrow, and tossed the folder he had been reading onto Rachel's desk. "If that doesn't alert the students to something going on, I don't know what will."

"I can hardly see the advantage of telling them every single detail," Suzuki muttered, tossing his own folders onto the desk. Mechanically, Rachel once again straightened the folders into a neat pile.

"Yes, Suzuki, I know. And keeping the details from last year's secret is probably the only reason we have as many of the students as we do here, today."

A discontented grumble went around the room. Rachel turned her chair towards the window, trailing a finger along the lead lines that criss-crossed to make the glass' lattice detailing. Around her were the teachers that had become most involved with the problems concerning Givanni -- one of them came on Koenma's orders, himself. If anything could be done, these three and herself would be more than prepared to take control.

Of course, there were only four of them, and they wouldn't be able to do a thing if they couldn't decide what action to take. Their beliefs, although in the right place, were far too varied for her to make a set decision. Shikyo was always out front, while Suzuki thought everything through, making him lag behind the others in his decisions. Ryo just bounced around wherever caught his fancy, a load of bloody help that did her. They needed someone stable, someone who had experience with this sort of thing, to be their tiebreaker.

Almost instinctually, she reached for the intercom and asked the secretary to send for the necromancer before the other three could complain. They would have to understand... if anyone understood what the total risks and possibilities were, it was the Laird.

The next forty-five minutes passed uneventfully, in uncomfortable silence. Rachel only looked up once, surprised that the cat demon hadn't made an outburst; she saw him seated in the couch on the far end of the room, his black fur contrasting sharply against the cream-colored walls and bright sunlight, reading over the student files again. Suzuki merely gave her a smile that did little to comfort her, as Ryo just slumped over in the seat before her desk and played around with the magnetic sculpture-toy she had received from Erika as a promotion present.

When the door creaked open and the Laird shuffled in, jacket disheveled and his face well beyond the five-o-clock shadow that usually adorned it, Rachel nearly sighed in relief.

"It doesn't take that long to walk from your cottage to my office," She brashly stated.

The illustrious Michealangelo merely cracked his neck, yawned, and scratched under his armpit. "I was recording the information my scout golems had brought back from the school boundaries... Didn't even notice my phone ringing."

Ryo snickered. "More like you had to dig for the phone," the elf quipped, all-too-well remembering the disheveled state of things at the necromancer's abode. Michealangelo only shrugged, and pulled out a thickly folded packet of papers from the inside pocket of his jacket.

"Say what you will, but we have a few spirits closing in on the school."

Rachel took the papers, straightened them out, and furrowed her eyebrows at the difficult-to-decipher cursive. "Any negative readings from them?"

"Not yet... but if they keep flocking here, we'll have some definite problems."

Suzuki bent over Rachel's chair, reading the papers from over her shoulder. "Problems, hm? And what do you suggest we do?"

"Eh? Me?" Michealangelo only stopped in mid-yawn long enough to point at himself, not liking it at all when the three before him - two teachers and the headmistress - only nodded at him like he was a particularly slow individual. "Right, well. Well... hm... I say a full-scale expulsion."

"Of students!" It was the only thing Shikyo had bothered to say since Rachel had called for the Laird. All this time, the cat demon had been shuffling through the student files, concentrating as if trying to form connections between the students in his head.

Michealangelo shook his head. "No, of the spirits. Normally, I'd say we should do it right away, but I'm thinking if we can hold out just a little bit longer, give them time to really get stuck, I can pull of an expulsion ritual powerful enough to send them all to rest."

"All at once?" Suzuki was dubious of the plan, never mind the fact he didn't want any spirit, harmless or not, anywhere near him.

"Yes, all at once. But there's a chance that a ritual of that power would put the students at risk, if they were caught up in its' channels."

A silence pervaded the office. The little stamped metal Xs and Os tumbled from their paper-thin tower, sticking out at unusual odds and ends from the black, magnetic, puck-shaped base. Michealangelo cleared his throat.

"That's why I was planning on such a large-scale ritual during the April vacation. As long as I get it done with the first day after the students leave, enough time should have passed by the time they return for it to mostly fade away. No harm done."

Back in the corner, Rachel could see Shikyo's tail twitch rather violently. Even if Ryo were to agree with him at this point, it would still be three-to-two, and the vacation would still go on. With a sigh, she twisted the cap off of her fountain pen, and took a seal-locked book from her desk drawer, nearly half the pages still blank. At Michealangelo's directions, she wrote down the basics of their plan.

"So," she asked, closing the book. "Who votes for the mountain hot springs, or would you rather send them back to Misery Island?"

The first thing she did when she saw the imposing silhouette in her doorway, she choked on her hot chocolate.

"H-Hiei! Nice to see you..."

The demon only strode in, his gait amazingly unbothered by the long dragonling sitting on his shoulder. Already, Mara had grown phenomenally since his return, and now she was close in length to a boa constrictor. Even the way she moved, her sinewy neck waving gracefully through the air, her tail tightly wrapped around her "mother's" arm and dragging along the floor, reminded one of a snake.

Mara spread her wings, tiny white feathers visible among the translucent membrane, and glided over to Yukimi's lap to rub her feathery mane against the girl's cheek. Yukimi gently scratched the dragonling behind the ears, smiling as Mara's bright blue eyes became half-lidded in pleasure, and tried to place her mug of hot liquid on the coffee table without spilling any. "I take it it's time for her check-up again, huh?"

"Whatever brought you to that conclusion?"

Ah, Hiei was in a nasty mood... No matter. Yukimi scooped Mara's compact torso in her arms, and attempted to stand, noticing that the white dragon had gained a good amount of weight from her last visit. Handing Mara off to Hiei, who let the dragonling crawl onto his shoulder without so much as a complaint, the girl went about shuffling through her filing cabinet for Mara's growth records; as soon as the files were safely rescued from the mess, Yukimi proceeded to dig through the closet for her scale.

"You know," she finally said, despite the stethoscope cord clenched in her teeth, "I don't think I have a scale big enough to fit her, anymore. We might have to get her weighed in at a vet's office, now."

"Hn."

"That might cost some money, Hiei. I hope you're covered for it."

There was a slight pause, as if the three-eyed demon had finally come to the realization that he couldn't get his way through life by killing everyone that got in his way. Sooner or later, he would have to handle money, the very same dirty thing that had been the cause for his sister's imprisonment and torture. Finally, he spoke, "I'll manage."

"Alright, then... if you want." The black-haired girl almost yelped out in pain, but her foot deftly pulled itself away from the falling corner of plywood board as if on its own. "Until then, I do have an idea," She grunted, dragging the plywood out of her closet and leaning it against the living room wall.

Yukimi motioned for Hiei to wait a moment, and left the room, followed by the chirps of the young dragon. A minute later, she returned with a bathroom scale, which she set down on the hardwood floor and carefully balanced the plywood on it. Her task done, she stood back to admire her sad little scale.

"I think my bathroom scale is off by about five pounds, but it's better than nothing; I'll just have to start writing in margins instead of the exact weight." When Hiei refused to move, she dramatically threw her arms out at the scale, as if she were a game show hostess magically producing a lifetime supply of bleach to a happy housewife on Jeopardy. "Come on, Hiei, just toss her on!"

The look she received could have nearly been categorized as borderline pissed.

"Stop being such a hen, and put Mara on the scale. Now."

Ah, there it was: his glare was murderous. She could finally sleep fitfully and in fear of her life, knowing she had done her job.

The dragonling was tenderly eased onto the plywood, as if all the splinters in the world would rear up and pierce her drummer's-beat-heart. Yukimi, keeping a close eye on the scale's reading, nearly whistled as the numbers blurred underneath the red line that was the marker of the scale. Finally, as the numbers slowed and she watched them quiver back and forth underneath the marker, the girl wrote down the weight margins in her organized file book.

"Congratulations, Hiei," she said, observing the way the muscles moved underneath Mara's pale skin. "She's nearing about ninety pounds, now."

The demon, however, looked less than enthusiastic. "It's going to be a pain to hide her, if when Koenma sends us back to the human realm."

"She might not be able to go back." Hiei let Yukimi's words fall upon deaf ears, and instead called the curious youngster over before she could attempt to set the scale ablaze.

"Lyra, make it stooop! I don't want to do anymore work!" Letting out a frustrated groan, the younger sister let her face drop against the dining room table, the wooden surface feeling silky smooth under her cheek. All around her, papers and folders and who-knew-what-else were stacked around her workspace like some mighty fortress wall. Of course, no fortress wall could keep out long-overdue schoolwork.

"Stop whining," Lyra commented, but the words had no force behind them. As much as she wasn't the type to say it out loud, the fault that Lark was so swamped in work was her own doing. It had been Lark who had put it off, time and time again, until the last minute; it had been Lark who had dodged around due dates and deadlines, determined to put it all behind her.

Thus, it was now Lark, frustrated and tired, who had stacks of work while Lyra only had to write down the last paragraph on her last assigned essay.

The door to the kitchen swung open and Victoria strutted in, looking over the girls' shoulders momentarily before sliding into a seat himself. He slouched in the seat; chin propped up on his arms, and silently watched them work. When the girls had just about gotten over the disturbance and gotten back to work, the cross dresser spoke.

"We're going to have dinner, soon."

Lyra's meek reply was drowned out by the loud cry of "Crap!" from Lark, who was frantically stuffing papers into folders or attempting to move piles of textbooks off of the dining table. Victoria tempted himself with the idea of watching her put it all away before continuing, but the greater good won out. "Calm down, you," he said, with amusement. "It's a left-over night, so everyone's sitting wherever they want; you girls can even do your work while you eat. We have plenty of Chinese food."

Lark grumbled a curse under her breath, and pulled her pen out again, as well as the biology worksheet upon which she had been diligently filling in the blanks. Lyra, her work done, sighed in relief and leaned back in her chair, blue eyes glazed over with exhaustion as she watched Victoria get up and leave for the kitchen once again.

"No, really. Eat the Chinese food. I don't dare touch it, myself." And the cross dresser was gone, amidst self-mumblings of "the crazy things they toss in stir-fry".

Lark's eyes flicked up to her sister, and she shot out a hand to grab her sister's sleeve. "Oh no," she said, eying Lyra up and down. "If I have to stay here and do work, the least you can do is help me."

Lyra experimentally tugged in her sister's grip, and sighed in defeat. "Very well. But at least let me get us some food, first."

"Promise you won't escape off to your room and leave poor ol' me down here to hopelessly fail at identifying gerunds?" Even as she asked, she let go of the older girl's sleeve. Free from her restraint, Lyra edged towards the door. "Of course, I won't."

"Won't help me?"

"I'm getting dinner, Lark." Lyra nudged the door open, giving her sister unreadable look; if anything, the younger sister recognized the way the words seemed so stiff and forced. Only a few hours, and she was already beginning to wear down on Lyra's seemingly endless patience.

"Don't forget my extra soy sauce!" Behind Lyra, the door slammed shut.

Now, with no one around to distract her, Lark turned her attention to meticulously marking up the simple worksheet that sat in front of her. The sentence she was looking over was small, split in half with a semicolon, and very much resembled something one would read in a second-grade book. What made this particular sentence at the tenth-grade level, however, was the participle verb and subject hidden somewhere in its deceptive words.

She let her eyes wander for a second - that's all it took - towards the neat little pile of books in front of her sister's seat, and in that same second they lit up. Sitting at the top of a rather thick little book about reiki control, was a thin metal chain, attached to a metal pendulum coated in the same sterling-silver shine. On a whim, and bored to boot, Lark picked up the pendulum and held the little metal ball on the other end of the pendulum's chain in between her fingers, watching the spade-shaped pendulum spin in little clockwise circles in midair. Wider and wider, the circles became, until she shifted her reiki away from her fingertips; without the power flowing through the chain, the pendulum fell limp, its motions stopped as if it had physically been held still.

"Weird little thing," she mumbled, bringing the pendulum up to her eyes and watching it dangle on its metal chain. "How do they expect you to learn how to use it? 'Excuse me, teacher, but I don't think my jewelry likes me; it keeps swinging in circles.'"

As if it heard her, the pendulum started swinging in circles again, this time clockwise. Surprised, she checked her reiki flow, and noticed the amount moving up and down her arm wasn't even enough to make a respectable aura-tingle around her skin. All the while, the pendulum swung out wider, coming nearly horizontal in its chain, before the entire thing flew out of her fingers and smacked against the kitchen door.

"Gah!"

"...What was that?" Lyra nudged the door open, plates of micro waved fried rice and boneless spareribs balanced in her arms as if she were some sort of absurd scale. Lark quickly adopted an "innocent" pose and pretended to look up from her gerund worksheet as if surprised. "Oh, nothing! But thanks for the food," she exclaimed, greedily digging into the rice.

Lyra set her own plate down on the table, noticed the familiar silvery object missing from her pile of books, and scanned the room. Bending down by the door, she delicately picked up her pendulum by its chain, eyes widening as it reacted almost immediately: its metal end swinging up until it, impossibly, pointed upwards and stayed there. Her lips pursed, Lyra walked back to her seat, resting her chin in one hand as she watched the pendulum swing from side to side in midair, as if it were some absurd dowsing rod. Finally, she asked, "Lark, were you playing with this?"

"Uh, no! ...Yeah, yeah I was..." The younger sister, frustrated by both homework and her sister, avoided looking at the swinging pendulum. Lyra sighed, and pocketed the metal chain and weights, and stared into the space where it had been pointing -- through the wall was the cliff-side yard and open ocean. After all her experience of using a pendulum, it had never pointed in a direction where there wasn't a substantial amount of energy; much less fling itself at the wall to get to it.

What in the world was going on?

I've been playing with my own pendulum, myself. Nifty little things, they are (although my pendulum's weight is made out of stone, not metal). I always find it amusing how the "parlor tricks" like pendulums, tarot cards, and horoscopes are usually true, in one way or another.

Of course, I'm still too much of a wuss to work with an Ouija board... I've always been taught not to fool around with the dead. There are enough stories that tell about Ouija board "séances" gone horribly wrong (these stories usually include amazingly stupid teenagers -- go figure)to keep meaway.