chapter two stranger than stranger
They walked past rows of shop houses. They were built in elegant French styles, with lovely wooden shutters replacing curtains, and each was two storeys at least, the balconies embellished with delicate carvings and motifs.
Jun paused in front of a particularly white shop house. It was more of grey, with streaks of paint running down the building, tainting the whitewashed concrete. It was evidently a consequence of the acid rain, which hit the urban areas of York Shin many years ago.
The long-haired female rummaged in her pockets for a while, and then pulled out a ring of keys. There were definitely more than ten keys, of different shapes and sizes. She singled out the thickest and longest key, slitting into the matching keyhole. She turned clockwise seven times; each click was different. One sounded like a chalk dropping on the floor, the other sounded like knuckles rapping against wood – it was quite interesting. Then the door swung back inside, opened.
'This house is rather dusty, since I hadn't been back here for a good two months. I had been traveling around East Goruto…' Jun then fell silent, seemingly unwilling to divulge more information of her whereabouts. She had been less-than-cautious enough already, inviting a complete stranger to stay over at her home.
I have been living alone for so long after all, she argued. He looks like a reasonably fine man, he saved me from that freaking police officer, and he's a wanderer. I seriously don't see any harm.
Her hands groped around in the dark, and with a click, light filled the room. Jun closed her eyes quickly, a reflex action at the sudden gush of light, as her pupils cannot take it. She squinted painfully after a few seconds, and slowly got used to the light.
There was a flight of staircases directly in front of them; way behind was numerous doors, a fireplace, a huge beanbag couch that could easily fit two dozens, and tables of various shapes and materials littering the space.
Kuroro could barely contain curiosity as surveyed the surroundings. This was one, oddly furnished room. There were no hints of a good taste of furniture, but mere random collections of priceless antiques and second-hand goods. His head tilted upwards to see the ceiling lamps; again, a range of lamps that had no relations to the non-existence theme of the room hung from the peeling ceiling, anything ranging from round glowing balls to naked bulbs.
'Um, if you don't mind,' interrupted Jun quietly, noticing that her guest was very much fascinated by the interior design. 'I'd show you to the room you can stay at.'
'Thank you, please,' nodded Kuroro. Jun lead him up the two flights of staircases, presumably up to the third floor. The third floor was just as strange, if not stranger than the first floor. The carpet was a quilt of various patterns, anything from Persian to lacy flowers. This time, instead of lamps hanging overhead, there were studs of bulbs enclosed in domes arranged to stick onto the ceiling, in neat rows. As usual, there were numerous doors.
Jun walked down the aisle of doors, and picked one, which was painted a dazzling gold colour. Kuroro felt a little insecure about the brightly painted door. He quirked an eyebrow at it beneath his bandage.
'This room?' there was a faint trace of doubt in his voice.
'Yes.' Jun leaned over, twisted the knob and opened the door. Kuroro sighed inwardly as he quickly scanned the room, realizing the same bizarre theme had been imposed on this room, just like the living room and the third floor aisle. A seamless sheet of ridiculously furry carpet acted as paint for the room. It covered every inch of the ceiling, walls and floor – the absurd furry-ness reminded him strongly of his own trench coat with the furry trimmings that often made him sneeze.
He half expected to find a similarly themed bed, but was relieved to find that it was just like any other regular bed, until he sat down on it and felt his whole butt sink in.
'The finest and softest down feather from the Norwegian Blot bird,' answered Jun almost proudly upon seeing Kuroro's bemused face that was barely visible. His legs were only visible actually, since half of his torso had sunk in. He swung his legs back and forth, and then finally managed to straighten himself up to a more graceful sitting position.
'You can explore the house more, since it's really a fascinating house. Every generation of the Mephistopheles have more or less lived here, and well, my family was an odd bunch of people, including myself,' shrugged the dark-haired female smilingly. 'I've discovered really funny things too when I get bored playing hide-and-seek with my siblings as a child… I remember discovering my grand father's secret stash of porn in one of the rooms. My grand mother almost made sure he wouldn't need his um, precious any more. She's the fiercest woman I've ever known.' Jun shrugged, chuckling softly.
'If you want, you can sleep now… I'm just going to make something to eat. You want some food? Name anything, we have it. I just hope the fresh food's not expired yet…'
'It's fine, really,' declined Kuroro politely, and stomachs never lie. Jun paused, looking at him. Then his stomach rumbled. Kuroro blinked, grinning sheepishly.
'I'd make you a family special, since your stomach doesn't agree with your words, Mister Lucifer,' grinned the female. 'I'd ring you up in a mo when it's all done.'
'Thanks,' he replied sheepishly. Then she left, shutting the door behind him. He got up from the crazy bed that was trying to swallow him, and gazed mundanely at the giant life-sized glow stick that was stuck at the far corner of the room in the sea of furry-ness. His sharp eyes glimpsed a seam next to the glow stick. Out of curiosity, he crept over to it, and felt about in the mass of furs for something like a knob or a hook. Maybe there is another secret stash of porn, thought Kuroro, snorting to himself. His fingers slipped into three holes; it reminded him strangely of bowling balls. Without further ado, he yanked the little door open – the whole door fell apart, considering the strength Kuroro had, and that the hinges had rusted and aged.
Oops, thought Kuroro guiltily. I guess I shouldn't have used that much strength eh? He peered inside the hole anyway, tossing the broken door aside. There were no movements of air, meaning there was no secret passage or any sort of nonsense. Bravely, Kuroro stuck his hand and groped about, until his fingers brushed against paper and leather. He pulled the unknown object out, and saw that it was – a book.
What the hell? He thought, bemused. He held the book up, examining it. He brushed the dust bunnies off the book, and proceeded to open it; books had always been something he loved, hence the Nen book. He couldn't open it. If this is sealed by Nen, I'm so screwed. Damn that demented Kuruta! Kuroro cursed the blond for a moment.
--
Kurapica was just lying in bed. Suddenly, he sneezed. Who the hell just cursed me? Wondered the Kuruta sleepily, as he wiped his nose with his sleeve. He went back to sleep.
--
Kuroro tried to pry the book open. It wouldn't. Scowling, he tossed the book aside, leaning against the furry wall, but suddenly sat up in shock at the sudden furry-ness intruding the nerves of his back through his shirt. He leant back again, almost glaring balefully at the book. There was an absence of titles written on the cover; perhaps it's some sort of a journal of diary, and was meant to be kept a secret, hence being locked away behind that miserable door. Kuroro bent forward to touch it again. His hand spazzed as the loud blast of a foghorn or some sort of a trumpet nearly spliced his eardrums.
'Kuroro – time for eats!' came Jun's voice from the first floor, very mildly muffled by the barriers of doors. Kuroro was rather surprised by her loud voice; she seemed so petite. Kuroro reminded himself not to judge anyone ever again by appearances, considering how he had first thought the skinny blond was nothing to be afraid of.
'Coming!' he yelled back in answer, equally loudly. He shoved the book under his bed and stuck the door crudely back into its frame, the seam covered by the madness of the flying furs. He exited his room, and quickly descended down the stairs, sneezing as the dust bunnies floated towards his nose. It was way worse than his bloody trench coat.
'Oh dear,' Jun cocked her head, her ponytail bobbing as she did. 'I see you've met the dust bunnies?'
'Yes, I have indeed,' coughed Kuroro, rubbing his nose so vigorously until it turned red. 'What's for eats anyway?'
'Bacon and cheese spaghetti,' answered Jun, peeling the green tartan apron off herself and tossing it onto the giant beanbag couch. 'Come with me to the dining room – it's sort of integrated with the kitchen, and it's almost the only place with a working television.'
Jun chose a yellow door with black polka dots and a shiny silver knob. With a twist of her wrist, she opened the door, and led Kuroro into the kitchen-cum-dining room. It was almost stifling warm, perhaps due to the cooking Jun had been doing earlier.
It had normal-looking white washed walls with a rather rough surface of little stones and pebbles embedded into the paint. The ceiling was a puzzle of different sized and shaped of tubed fluorescent lights, and a suitable amount of lights were lit up, since if Jun turned on all the lights, they could jolly well be blind, considering the huge amount there was.
The table was large and rectangular, a wooden top that resembled planked floor, supported by cold metal legs. A transparent sheet of plastic was thrown over, presumably to protect the mahogany. A fairly modern looking gas cooker was tucked away in a corner, flanked by an empty metal table and the sink. A small black cauldron sat on the gas cooker, steam rising from the opening; must've been the spaghetti, thought Kuroro watching it. He was famished, and whether or not her culinary skills are good or bad, he'd eat anything.
A flat television stood on a metal stick, various coloured wires almost devouring the stilt. The remote control was stowed safely behind the television on a sort of a mini shelf. He removed the remote control, and sat down very cautiously on the velvet-padded chairs. Ok, so it isn't madly soft like the bed, he thought. Kuroro flipped through the channels, and was irritated by the constant flow of gourmet shows.
Jun approached him, and laid a plate of spaghetti in front of him, then handing him a Spork. Kuroro examined the strange cutlery he was holding – looks like a cross between a fork and a spoon.
'That's a spork,' said Jun, answering to his curiousity. 'It's a cross between a fork and a spoon, in case you've never seen it before.'
Their dinner was conducted in silence, diminished by the television. When they finished, Jun collected the plates, and left them in the sink.
'I'd wash them tomorrow, you don't have to help,' insisted Jun firmly, pushing Kuroro away from the sink. 'You're the guest, and well, you'd be doing me a huge favour just by keeping your own room clean, thank you. We'd talk tomorrow, okay? Oyasumi nasai.'
'Right. Oyasumi.' Kuroro couldn't help smiling a little. He paused. 'Where's your room, anyway?'
'It's on the fourth floor,' answered the female. 'I'd go to bed later, I um, have some business to attend to.'
'Don't stay up too late.'
'Of course.' Nodded Jun, her eyes traveling over his bandaged forehead, then back to his dark eyes. She turned away, her ponytail bobbing behind her. Kuroro couldn't resist smiling at her back. Good, he thought. Good.
He ascended the flight of staircases up to the third floor, finding his gold-coloured door. It wasn't that hard, though he noticed there were neon pink doors, and even one that glowed in the dark. He snorted softly, and then entered his own room, shutting the door behind.
He threw himself onto the bed in a childish manner, chuckling to himself, as he sank into the bed. It was almost like the quick sand he had experienced a couple of years ago where he was at Ryuusegai, where he had his feet almost devoured by some life-size foul beetle.
Kuroro felt relieved to sleep in a proper bed, after a week of sleeping on trees and hammocks. He sighed blissfully. He sat up with a little difficulty (he was slowly getting used to the sinking-effect of the mattress), and grabbed the quilt folded neatly in front of him. His head fell on a less-softer pillow, there, he drifted off to a peaceful slumber for once, without worrying if squirrels are drooling over him or birds are going to leave droppings all over him.
A/N:
A late Merry Christmas to all, and keep the reviews coming. (: Happy Boxing Day, I guess. Heh.
Oyasumi Nasai: good night
Spork: I don't think there'd be a need to explain this, eh:D
Chapter Three in progress