Meow.

I am VERY sorry for the sudden big delay. Just so you know, I haven't abandoned this fic. The case is simply that school restarted and just finished a while ago and now I have one term left to cram everything into my head before a main exam… and here I am writing about a shota in octopus-print panties, hehe. (You can understand why I can't submit half my English essays.)

THANK YOU for the heartfelt support… and hopefully you haven't forgotten about this fic yet… TT And the costume suggestion by the way. It's damned purrfect.

Loads more of Vocaloid and Utaite otaku-stuff coming up… See how many you can spot. (Okay, some of them are obvious but still.) ;3

Please ignore the history screw-ups and stuff. I was always a troll concerning History classes.

And by the way, sorry about the gender changes. I'm aware some of the characters coming out in this chapter aren't what I specified them as, but please bear with it.

And… yeah. This chapter's kind of a failure, sorry. It's too long – and it's boring – and it's too long. x_x UGH.

I'll promise to try to improve on the materials next time …

5. Of Cats, Doormen and Fairy Godmothers

'Cinderella! Cinderella!' a voice shrieked from upstairs.

Len glowered up at the ceiling with a scowl. 'Fuck you…'

Unsurprisingly, there were fat, half-naked Renaissance ladies painted all over the arced ceiling.

Their previous maid had apparently been named Cinderella before she eloped with a manservant in the night, so as the new maid, it made perfect sense that Len was also called that. (As Cook had told him, the previous maids, all eleven of them, had been called Cinderella.)

And Cinderella the First, also according to Cook, had been a noble-bred relative of the current Mistress of the House thirty years ago. Her body was still in the basement cellar.

The sun had already set.

Len got up from scrubbing the antique hearth, dusted his knees, and made his way up the marble stairs towards the voice, still scowling. He felt like kicking the absurdly out-of-place fire extinguisher at the foot of the banister.

As he passed a window, he caught his own repulsive reflection in the stained glass.

He scowled at the rainbow-coloured knights crowding up the stained glass. 'What're you looking at?'

He couldn't believe himself. He was voluntarily wearing an explosively short red and white maid-costume, complete with laced booties. He looked like a super-frilly version of a girl from Love Live. To be honest, he'd rather have worn rags.

'Cinderella!' the voice screeched from upstairs again.

His skirt bounced, thighs flashing as he hurried up the stairs. (Hopefully no one was downstairs.)

He knocked on the heavy wooden door of the bedroom and entered. 'You called, Lady Aoi?' He bobbed a curtsy to Lady Grey –said current Mistress of the House, whose hair was as grey as her name – who was also present in the room.

'How long does it take you to climb the stairs, you lazy wench – half a century?'

He graced the girl who had summoned him with a brilliant scowl.

The rules were, no swearing. He couldn't risk getting fired. It was getting on his nerves.

'Where is the lace fan I bought last week, Cinderella?'

How should I know? You squashed it under your fat butt, Len muttered under his breath. 'I'll look for it, Lady Aoi.'

'You certainly shall not. You're supposed to know where it is!'

He nearly threw a bootie at her.

It had been almost a week since his new friend Rin had shoved him into the carriage that brought him to this mansion. Since then, he had been subjected to a lot of nasty housework and a complete ban off swearing.

The good news was that there was to be a Grand Ball in the Royal Palace the next day, and Prince Charming who was visiting from the neighbouring kingdom was also rumoured to be attending that ball. According to the story, Cinderella was supposed to make it to the ball and successfully bag a Prince Charming to take home, and therefore he had decided it would perhaps be a good idea to stay quiet and stay Cinderella for the meantime.

Although he was worried about Rin, he decided he would deal with that situation once he became a Princess. (A double-Princess? Was he still one, or was he now just a maid?)

'You useless maid! Go look for it this instant!'

'Yes you f–'

At that moment the door crashed open as Akane thundered in. 'Aoi! Mother! You have to hear this!'

'Get on with it, Cinderella. This has nothing to do with you.'

Len curtsied and attempted to sidestep Akane. He wasn't interested in hearing another fangirl outburst about how hot Prince Charming was; his hopes of reaching home were growing rather distant.

'What's the matter, Akane?'

'The Duke of Asmodean is also to be present at the Royal Ball!'

Len stopped mid-stride. 'The Duke of…?'

'Good gracious… Do you mean – Duke Venomania!?' Aoi squealed.

'I hear he's quite a ladies' man,' Lady Grey observed sleekly.

Quite indeed.

Len gulped. He quietly resolved to go straight to Prince Charming as soon as he got there. If they meant that Duke Venomania – the real one – now that he really was a girl, he wasn't quite immune to that stuff.

'Oh, that reminds me Cinderella, have you given dear Kuro-chan his supper?' Lady Grey cut in smoothly.

That fricking insane cat? 'No Ma'am, I haven't.'

'The poor dear! He must be starving by now!'

'I– I'll see to it, Ma'am.'

'You most certainly will!'

Yes you hideous hag.

Blowing a silent raspberry behind the old woman's back, Len backed out of the hideously decorated bedroom. Renaissance angels joyously strummed their harps in the ceiling, reflecting his foul mood, accompanied by a faint sense of nausea.

'Alright…' He trimly drew his lacy cuffs out of the way, and set about the disgusting, squashy task of mixing the cat-food. They apparently had no convenient luxuries such as mothballs and poison pellets.

Then he fetched a long broomstick from the pantry.

The dining room looked a little empty and sad. According to Cook (who had acquired a disturbing fetish for including Len in her recent recipes), there had once been a great chandelier to light the space, but had at some point fallen crash on the dining table one night and since then had been put away. Len suspected it was the cat.

'K… Kuro-chan?' he called, sticking out the trembling broom like a rapier.

Immediately, the sound of thundering paws came issuing from up in the ceiling, sending dust and bits of plaster falling from the wooden boards. The banging grew louder and louder. Len looked wildly this way and that, eyes scouring for every hole in the walls, ceiling, floor. Even the fireplace.

'I'm ready for you this time, you hell-cat!'

It was coming closer.

The banging suddenly stopped around the plump, happy backside of a winged Renaissance baby.

Still silence.

Then the tom came shooting out from the empty chandelier socket, and Len screamed as the hissing, spitting nightmare came diving claws-first onto his head. A dusty rubber duck came falling out of the hole with the cat.

'Argh! No you fucking – you mad cat – ow! – no don't – get outta my skirt!' he yowled. 'What the – ow – stop that – you – aaagh!'

Saint Gabriel watched peacefully from the ceiling as the shota did something of a cross between a gig and a failed tap dance in the middle of the dining room, scrabbling in his skirts for the cat which was apparently trying to claw, wriggle and squash its way through his starched layers of Edwardian underwear.

Then and again, it might have had some ballet components. (Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker, perhaps.)

'R-raape! Someone help! Cat with rabies!'

Len had never completed a triple pirouette in his life before.

He trod on the rubber duck. With a howl he slipped – fell on his butt with a smack on top of the cat – the cat screeched - and the rubber duck went flying out of the window.

Finally – panting, red-faced, and bleeding from several scratches and bites, Len pulled out the vicious, caterwauling feline from under his butt, grabbing him by the scruff. He was a rather peculiar specimen; unusually large; matted, untidy black fur covered in age-old battle scars (or scars from doing what, he didn't care to know); and three circular metal piercings on one flea-bitten ear.

Once gotten hold of, he was surprisingly tame. He stared at Len with huge, imploring amber eyes.

'I don't know why that old hag doesn't stuff you in a cannon and… Hey – don't you dare give me those freaking – I said – ugh… Okay, okay… alright.'

He had an unfortunate soft-spot for cats.

'…Your supper is ready, monsieur.'

The tom licked his fangs, with a sadistic grin that gave Len a vague inkling that he was going to be that supper.

'No more surprise attacks?'

The cat grinned.

He warily put the cat down on his paws, and went to the balcony.

With a wrrrrrr like a jet-plane that sounded suspiciously like Rrennn somehow, the tom trotted after him, eyes sparkling with malice.

Len sincerely prayed this would be the closest encounter he would have with any black cat for the next ten years, two-legged or four. He led the monster cat out to the balcony, where he had left the smelly cat-food. Kuro-chan pulled his nastiest cat-face at the unappetising sight.

The Doorman with the curly black beard was standing under the balcony. (He was also the Footman, just for the sake of detail, and had large front teeth.)

'Ahh, what a beautiful stage Fate haz set beneath ze full moon for you and me! Ze sky filled with stars is dim in the presence of your – ahh, what should I say – glory, Senorita.' (In courtesy of his innocence.)

Len's first thought on encounter with the dramatist had been, Oh fuck, he's gay.

Then he remembered he was a girl.

Well, it wasn't an insult. Shakespeare was rumoured to be gay, and he was much loved by the hundreds of millions of cussing, nonplussed undergraduates all over the world every year.

Lucky doormen couldn't climb up balconies.

Still, things were quite peaceful. After all, he only had to bear one more day of all this tomorrow, and then he would be gone from this place for good.

'Cinderella, ze Mistress of the House reminded me to tell you zat –'

'Please –' he snapped, 'Deal with it. I am totally sapped.'

The Doorman executed an over-flourished bow. 'For you Senorita, I would –'

Ignoring the rest of the passionate declaration, worn out, bewildered and rather battered, Len stumbled his way down to his temporary bedroom in the basement cellar. He was finding being a female a fairly stressful affair (not to mention the sheer volume of underwears).

'Hey lady, don't look at me like that,' he snapped at the shrivelled skeleton on the rack. 'I just need to use it temporarily. You've been using it for the past bloody three decades so bear with it.'

He had of course, no intention of sharing it with her.

He climbed into the coffin and closed the lid, leaving a small space for air, and went to sleep.

The Royal Ball was tomorrow evening. He had waited this long – he wasn't about to screw up his chance.

'Nothing could go wrong, right?' he mumbled at the coffin lid.

All of a sudden, he felt rather homesick.

###

At around four in the morning, four black paws soundlessly padded into the dusty basement cellar.

A large black feline emerged from the darkness like a wraith, slipped into the coffin through the breathing hole left open in the top, grinned evilly, and slowly closed the lid.

Soon afterwards, a series of muffled screams were heard from the basement.

On the branch of a pear tree in the garden, a partridge ruffled its sleep-mussed feathers in annoyance at the horrible noises issuing from the drainage pipe (which led from the basement). Then all was silent, and the partridge went back to sleep once more, crooning softly.

It did not notice a stealthy black shadow prowl its way out of the drainage pipe sometime later, watching its plump silhouette with glowing amber eyes.

###

Len woke up the next morning to find a half-digested partridge and a profusion of brown plumage scattered all over his chest, and almost decided he had been murdered. It fairly stank.

He cleaned up, got dressed in his mountain of red maid frills – armed with candy-striped stockings this time – and laced his booties. Then he woke Lady Grey and the two ugly sisters, who looked like Nanny McPhee on her worst day, and then fed Kuro-chan. The tom didn't seem to be that hungry. Assuming the half-minced horror had probably been Kuro-chan's idea of sharing, Len returned the dead bird to the tom. 'No thanks, you can have it.'

The cat glowered at him with hellish amber eyes.

'What?'

The cat growled.

'You mean you want me to fucking eat this?'

Kuro-chan grinned. (Or rather, leered.)

'Oh, come on!'

Wrrrrr.

'…You're joking right?'

Half an hour later, he was nibbling off a roasted wishbone, covered in deep scratches, watched closely by the black nightmare sitting smugly on the table in front of him. He was under the impression he had just gone through some very intense episode of a feline version of BDSM, and not feeling any better about it.

'Mmmm… delicious,' Len reassured it, trying somewhat not to vomit.

The feline licked its claws complacently.

Either the tom was planning to eat him later, or it wanted healthy kittens, Len decided.

###

It was just the way of the wise, ancient world that decreed all shotas ought to arrive at misfortune.

The Doorman was just about taking out his tools when a familiar shrill scream from the backyard sent them both running downstairs.

'What's the matter this time, Lady Aoi?'

'W-w-what… what is that thing!?' she pointed a shaking finger at the great sloppy Thing, draped halfway down the tin mailbox.

They both stared.

It was circular, flat and silver, and roughly the size of the Round Table of Camelot. A long and immensely slimy dorsal fin could be discerned; one huge, murky, dead eye stared dumbly up at the sky. It looked like something that had come falling from outer space.

'It's…' Len announced finally, 'A sunfish.'

'What's it doing here?' Aoi demanded squeakily.

'I've no idea.'

They all stared at it in disgust.

'It iz… dead,' remarked the Doorman.

'Agreed.'

It looked remarkably dead.

'Well, get rid of it – don't leave it lying there, it's hideous!' Aoi stomped off with a last terrified glance at the dead sunfish.

'Y- Yes Lady Aoi…'

Len and the Doorman exchanged a look.

How on earth were they going to get rid of that thing?

'I… I will get ze dustpan,' said the Doorman shakily, scurrying off.

Len was left with the dead fish.

He felt exhausted already. Were giant fish falling from the sky in addition to strawberries and maniacs now?

'What's next?' he muttered. 'Dandy fire extinguishers?'

The sunfish glowered at him with its huge grey puckered lips and cross-eyed antic, seeming to somehow blame him for its death and disposal in the backyard.

'Stop that before I feed you to the cat! It's freaking me out,' Len snapped.

It far from apologised.

Since they couldn't think of anything else, they decided to chop up the hideous monster fish to see if the monster cat would eat it.

Kuro-chan took one look at his dinner, was very clearly offended and stalked off in the opposite direction, bushed-up tail waving angrily in the air.

Somehow, aside from the fish, the rest went okay.

###

It was well into the evening.

The Ugly Sisters had left, and Len had somehow managed to get himself locked up in the dark, dusty, cobwebby basement in his underwear. The house was deserted. Now all that was left to do was to call his Fairy Godmother.

Would she really come?

If she didn't, he was probably going to end up marrying the Doorman or something. He would rather stay here with Cinderella, Len thought glumly. The coffin wasn't as uncomfortable as it looked, though they'd have to share it then.

Did he even have a Fairy Godmother?

'Alright… Let's find out,' he huffed.

He took a deep breath, pitching his voice an octave higher. 'Fairy Godmother – oh Fairy Godmother! Please come to me, I need your help.' Then he waited…

And waited.

…Nothing came.

He felt like an idiot.

'Fairy Godmother!' he wailed. 'Help me please!'

Still no fairy godmother. He began to panic.

'Fairy Godmother!

'… You bloody useless old–… FAIRY GODMOTHER!

'… Oh come on! For god's sake get your fucking fat ass down here…!

'… Fucking mother of – What, do I have to cast a magic spell or something?

'...Seriously!?

'… Abracadabra! The Queen of Brioches' got bats in her bra!

'… Just appear will you!?

'… I don't have the fucking whole day to wait you old hag! Just fucking teleport me with a bloody twirrrl of your pretty little wand to that fucking ball – and I'll be good and gone from this fucked-up world!' he screamed at the dusty ceiling. 'I am tired sick of scrubbing the royal chamber pot! I don't want any more shit and stinking excrements!'

'My… What awful language,' said an icy voice behind him.

He spun around to see a haughty-looking young woman in a rather revealing green dress, peering at him with a thin arched eyebrow, arms crossed. Her pale green hair was tied down from two sides of her head, and was long enough to reach the back of her knees. She was holding a large, glowing, half-eaten leek in one hand, and in the other, a long rope.

Bound to the other end of the rope, to his shock, was Rin.

I'm afraid this was really dull… orz Really sorry but I'm not sure what I wrote. o_o;

Kuro-chan's cat-antics are inspired by Diana Wynne Jones' eternal sweetheart Throgmorten. Not nearly equal, but tried at least.

Just one question if anyone can please answer this – WHY does the most popular song from Len among utai-tes seem to be "Seisou Bakuretsu Boy"? That's like, one of the few songs he's so extremely a jerk in (a hot one at that).

There's been an abundance of red dresses so I think I'll opt for another colour next time… (Sorry, I have a definite one in mind for the next chapter, but please add more suggestions for the following chapters! ;D) …Uh, I mean, (cough) with the exception of something like bikinis, thanks.

PLEASE review and tell me if this chapter was up to the standards... x(