Omake 11

GGYYYAAAA-BO!

For the seventh time in five minutes Jime glanced at the door that separated her hotel room from Suri’s. For hours now odd sounds from screams to grunts to cries and wails, laughter, and at one point a shatter came from the other room. She had no clue to what the hell was going on in there. Being the concerned aunt that she was, she decided to throw in the towel on offering her niece some privacy. Just to make sure she was okay in there. It had nothing to do with her being curious. Really. 

Slowly she cracked the door open to peer into a room that was a mirror image of her own with the exception of the little girl rolled in a blanket laying halfway off the bed. 

“Suri,” Jime called out before she stepped into the room. “Are you o-“ she froze mid-sentence at the glare Suri pinned her with.

“Get out!” Suri said venomously. 

“Sure.” Yet Jime entered the room completely. “Just making sure you’re not losing any more of your sense in here. All alone. Making strange sex noises.” Slyly, Jime looked around the room for any sign that Suri was hiding a guy in her room. “All alone.”

“I said get out! Now! I hate you.”

Jime stumbled back, placed a hand over her unbeating heart. The words cut deep. Usually she would easily dismiss such a statement, but the look of contempt in Suri’s eye spoke truth. “What did I do?”

Suri threw the cover off the bed and jumped up, her penguin pajama pants twisted, one pant leg bunched at her knee, her over sized hoodie just at twisted. 

“You!” Suri pointed. “I thought I told you I don’t like lies.”

“I haven’t lied to you,” Jime said defensely.

“I hate lies. Do not omit things. I consider omission a lie.” 

“I know this! And I’ve told you everything I know…or at least everything I can remember.”

“And yet you constantly omit things from me. All the time. You should have told me, but you didn’t because you’re a selfish jerk!”

Jime’s eyes widened and blurred. “Suri.”

Ayuzawa suki da

“Eh! Eh!” Suri looked at the laptop next to her feet. “KKKYYAAAAA!!” she squealed like a teenage girl. “Rewind it. Rewind. Rewind. Rewind.”

Ayuzawa suki da

She screamed again.

Ayuzawa? Confused and extremely suspicious, Jime eased over to the bed and peeked at what was playing on the laptop. 

“You’re in here watching Maid Sama!” she deadpanned. “Really? That’s what all this damn noise is about.”

“Oh shut it! Takumi is total squeal worthy and you know it,” she shot her aunt an accusing stare. “You follow Kaichou wa Maid-Sama on your damned Android and you couldn’t find the time to tell me to read it. Or at least watch the anime? You selfish jerk. Only out for yourself.”

“Are you freaking kidding me!” Jime snapped. “You sit there and spit such hurtful words in my face over Kaichou!”

“No. I spat them over Takumi.” Suri glanced back at the laptop and laughed merrily. “Yes, Takumi you are good. Very good.” She clapped. “But you shouldn’t jump off buildings for pictures. That’s just stupid.”

“I can’t believe you. You need to apologize. Right now.”

Suri rolled her eyes but didn’t look away from the computer. 

“Apologize. NOW!” Jime voiced. 

“I’m sorry,” Suri said under compulsion. The moment the compulsion wore off she was on her feet. “Don’t you ever do that….KYYYAAAA. TAKUMI!!!” She collapsed on the bed and rolled along the mattress. “That was such a misleading statement. You can hire me too.” She sighed. “Isn’t he just so dreamy.”

Jime nodded. “But he’s rather impassive.”

Suri sighed again. “Just makes him all the more lovable.”

Jime stared at the screen. “You know, the manga is black and white, so when the anime came out and everything is all colorful, I kinda thought he looked like Jack and Toren’s love child.”

((Silence filled the room))

4 hours later:

Jime stretched her back and spread out on the sofa. Suri, now in her room, was laying on the bed with a pile of manga surrounding her. 

“Someone should punch Gerald in his face. Can I do it?”

“Keep reading. Just wait to you see some of the other family members.”

“I hate them already. Along with Taro. Tero. Whatever the phoque his name is.”

“French. Ha! Nice.” Jime looked up from the laptop. “Which volumes do you have.”

“1-19.”

Her eyes narrowed in confusion. “Only 17 volumes are out.”

Suri waggled her fingers. “Being a witch has it benefits.”

“Did you steal from the author?” Jime demanded.

“Of course!”

“Stealing is bad, Suri. You know that.”

“So says the lady who steals my money at every turn, who stole an iphone from a 16 year old, who stole a car from her ex-lover.” She glanced up from the volume. “Please, don’t lecture me.”

Closing the laptop, she sat up. She cleared her throat. “Let me borrow 18.”