“CIRAH!”

  Kyra looked over to her little brother, and rolled her eyes.  What had the idiotic prankster done now?  She watched impartially as the thirteen-year-old boy walked quietly toward their father with an expression that the poor souls of ancient time had when they were about to be crucified.   Their father, Trowa Barton, usually had a great patience that most lacked, however, Cirah had a way of getting on a person’s nerves.  He thought that his sole duty in life was to lay traps for other people to get rises out of them: and that’s exactly what he gets, but not in the positive or playful manner that he’d hoped for.  The little brat had gotten into playing those games with Duo, and was rewarded with fun and attention… then began the terrorism.  Kyra shifted her wait a bit, and leaned an arm over her leg as she began thinking of the many ways that she could damn the Deathscythe pilot.

  She blamed Duo’s positively mischievous nature for egging her little brother on. On the other hand, however, Cirah’s pranks provided all sorts of fun around the house. She had never known that her mother’s voice could have such range and versatility. The little terror had even gotten her quiet and rather passive father to raise his voice. Perhaps Cirah had ulterior motives for performing his little pranks but she doubted it. She was almost glad for the fact that Kastro and Shiri had moved into their own apartment by now, otherwise they too would know the horror. She smiled slowly to herself; some old memory seemed to remind her that not even Kastro had been free of Cirah’s pranks.

  Cirah looked at her with piteous eyes.

“You have to help me! If papa finds me then I’m gonna get grounded. I think this time,” he paused looking slightly worried, “this time it’s gonna be for a –long- time.”

  Kyra looked faintly curious. “What did you do this time squee?”

  Cirah did his best to pull the sweet and innocent face. “Nothing much…I just rearranged some clothes…”

  Kyra began to understand just what had transpired but wanted the whole story out of the culprit before she began her final evaluation of the situation.

“Just whose clothes did you rearrange?”

  Cirah looked worried. “Well, I took mom’s clothes and put them in dad’s drawers,” in the background the sounds of search were drawing ever nearer.

  Something didn’t compute. She didn’t understand why the simple misplacement of clothing would upset her almost unnaturally patient and calm father. “What did you rearrange anyway? What was it?”

  Cirah looked clueless. “Well, it was some really weird thing made out of leather with lotsa buckles.”

   Realization dawned on Kyra. He’d moved –those- clothes. “You’re screwed.”

   Cirah’s eyes got as large as saucers. “What did I do that was so wrong?”

   Kyra smiled a tad maliciously. “Rule one, never, under any circumstances mess with the leather clothing, got it?”
 
   Cirah nodded. “Will you hide me?”

   Kyra looked thoughtful and Cirah’s hopes soared. Maybe she would hide him this time rather than turning him into his rather irate parents. He saw her expression shift subtly, however, and he knew then that he’d lost his chance. She smiled at him and spoke.

“You have thirty seconds to run. Don’t waste them.”

   With a yelp Cirah realized that he had only one way to go, and that was out the window. Outside there was a rather huge and friendly oak, a favorite of his. He knew the branches almost as well as he knew the back of his own hands. With a small prayer he dived out the window and caught hold of a branch that he knew was there. Within thirty seconds he heard Kyra yell.

“OH DAAAADD! I FOUND THE SQUEE, I THINK HE DOVE OUT THE WINDOW!”

   Cirah winced; he would get into even more trouble for diving out the window to top whatever trouble he was already in.

  Trowa walked quickly to the couch where Kyra had called from then ran down the stairs and out the door on an intercept course.  “Cirah! Get back here now!”

“Shit!”  Cirah kept running, past the small houses, to the bigger ones.  “Uncle Quatre!!!!!” he called out desperately.

  A short man came out of the house, his blue eyes looking from his nephew to his friend.  What the hell was going on now?  What ever had happened, it must’ve been bad to get such a rise out of Trowa!

  The young teen ran into the house, and hid behind his uncle as Trowa came closer toward them.  “You’ve gotta help me!  Papa’s gone insane!!!!!”

Quatre looked down at him mildly, “And what did you do to provoke this?”

“N…nothing.”

  Quatre lifted an eyebrow at him, and with no hesitation, dragged his nephew in front of him, into Trowa's hands.

  Cirah looked back at him with a half-hurt and half-pissed expression.  “Traitor,” he muttered.

  Cirah let something roll from his pocket, to the ground.  Soon the area filled with smoke... a smoke bomb?

“Cirah!!!” Trowa roared, “If you don’t come back here now you’ll be grounded for three years!”

  Quarte raised his eyebrows at the sentence: it seemed harsh.  He had three mischief-makers of his own, but he’d never ground them for that long!

“Heero!!!!  Protect me!!!!”

  Heero looked up from his garden hose.  Baka… “Omae o korosu,” he stated in his monotone voice.

Fusei waved through the window, her face reflecting both humor and pity.

“Don’t just wave, help me!!!!” the teen exclaimed in frustration.  Damn, I can never catch a break!
 
“Duo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

  A violet-eyed man looked up from his lenses, shock showing at the sudden disturbance.  He had been peacefully sunbathing just a few seconds ago, and then a yelling teen came running down the street.

  He smiled as he recognized his friend’s son, Cirah, most likely in trouble again. Alex came out and looked at the encroaching teen and then her eyebrows raised when she saw Trowa catching up in the distance, murder in his eyes. She walked back inside, giving Duo a version of the Heero ‘look’.

“I wash my hands of this, is that clear?”

  Duo nodded, giving one of his bright and evil grins. Anthony, known affectionately around the house as Ant, came wandering down the stairs, wondering what all the yelling was about. He didn’t know the neighbors yet, he and his parents had just moved in. When he looked out he found a young man standing on their lawn, his chest heaving and his eyes wild.

“Haveta hi-hide me- tou-tousan’s gonna KILL me!”

   Duo looked over to Ant and smiled. “Cirah, this is my son Anthony. Ant, this is Cirah, one of Trowa’s children.”

  Ant smiled at the new boy, wondering why he was so out of breath. When he saw his uncle coming up the last hill before he would hit their street he realized why. Sensing a fellow troublemaker in Cirah he looked over at Duo.

“Tousan, if you say that he ran that way,” pointing down the street,” then I’ll do both of our chores for the rest of the week, okay?”

  Duo smiled at the chance to pursue laziness and nodded, accepting the offer. “Better go now, Trowa’s coming.”

   The tall, rather lanky blonde haired boy grabbed Cirah’s wrist and pulled him into the house, pulling the door closed. Once inside Cirah got a better look at one of his fellow children, out of the horde that belonged to the respective gundam pilots. Ant was a tall boy, with bright indigo eyes, a playful smile and brown-blonde hair that was pulled back into a ponytail. A few errant strands fell into his eyes.

   Both boys ran behind the house, into the back yard, then into an under-ground room.  “What’s this room for?” Cirah asked.

  Ant shrugged, “I’m not sure, but my parents go down here a lot.  One time, when I snuck a look, I saw some leather things with buckles…”

  “You too!?  I misplaced one of those, and now my dad’s trying to kill me.  Man, don’t ever touch the stuff!  Take my advice! Parents are scary when they go on rampages!”

Ant shrugged, “I wouldn’t know.  My parents are just weird.”

  “Take my word for it, you’d know what it’s like if you touched one of those weird things! Even my dad is after my blood, and that takes a lot, though you couldn’t tell from the way he’s acting now.”

*

“Duo!!! Where the hell is he?”

“Who? … What? …  Don’t look at me like that!!! … Dude, you’re scaring me…”

“Where is Cirah?!”

  Duo pointed to his left, but the classic expression on his face alerted Trowa to the fact that something was amiss.

  Trowa stepped closer, his emerald eyes piercing.  “Duo,” he said with a dangerous, calm tone, “If you don’t tell me the truth, be assured that you will regret it.”

  Duo suddenly remembers Catherine teaching Trowa to throw knives… ah oh…
Without another thought in his mind, he pointed behind him to the back yard.
 
 Trowa went past him without a word, but rather a backhand movement.

“Ow!!!  Trowa, that hurt!”

  Trowa sniffed and continued walking at a fairly leisurely pace considering the massive amounts of ground that he had been covering earlier and opened the gate to the back yard. The sight that greeted him was that of a well kept backyard, gardens flourishing on several sides of the small amount of open space, a couple of trees and a door leading to the floor. The door seemed the most likely destination.

  With silence picked up straight from the old days he strode over and tried the door. It held firm. After trying it again he figured that it was locked. With a very annoyed sigh he walked back out to the front. Alex was sitting on the steps now, talking with Duo, a playful smile resting on her lips.

“Missing someone Trowa?”

   He nodded curtly, the annoyance plain on his usually passive face.

“Don’t worry, he’s hiding with the bug, I’ll make sure he gets home at some point this evening.”

  Trowa glanced over to Duo. “I don’t appreciate you adding to this situation.”

   Duo shrugged. “What can I do? It’s in my nature.”

   Alex smiled. “For assisting the escape of a fugitive I condemn you to cook dinner, set the table and do the dishes this evening.”

   Duo looked faint. “That’s too much work!”

   Alex raised her eyebrows at him. “There will be consequences for not following through with the punishment.”

   Duo sighed, hanging his head. With a playful smile Alex came over and laid a kiss on his forehead and caught his eyes with her own. Inwardly Trowa smiled watching them together. It had been hard watching Alex and Fusei sleep their lives away those many years ago. It was good to have them amongst the living. Seeing Alex and Duo together also made him thankful for the relatively few times that he and Stephanie had fought over their partnership.

“Well, I’ll be at home. Make sure that Cirah makes it home before tomorrow. If I could ask a favor Alex, could you feed him?”

   Alex gave him a thumbs-up. He smiled and nodded. “Thanks”

  Trowa left quietly, the rage that had been seen earlier gone, or at least hidden in the way he carried himself.

  Duo watched him depart; feeling a little relieved for Cirah.  The Trowa he’d seen a few minutes before was not a good man to face.  At times when Cirah had caused trouble, he could almost see the amusement in the silent one’s eyes.  Wonder what made him so angry…

*

  Alex got the boys out and ready for dinner.  She smiled with amusement when she found her husband in the ‘Kiss the Chief’ apron.  Smirking, she went over to him, and looked over his shoulder at what was cooking. There were various edibles in various pots over the stove and Duo looked pretty close to miserable.

“I like your apron.”

“Wha?” Duo started at the sudden sound of a whispered voice in his ear. Just as he turned she wrapped her arms about his neck and brought her lips up to meet his own for a quick and playful kiss. When they broke he looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

“What was that for?”

  She grinned and poked a finger on his chest, just above the words. “I’m obeying the apron.”

   Duo rolled his eyes and grabbed a dishtowel. He rolled it up and smacked her solidly on the bottom.

“Out of the kitchen woman! My domain tonight.”

 From the doorway she leaned in and stuck her tongue out at him.

  He grinned and gave her the same courtesy.

  Cirah looked up and licked his lips slightly as chicken, mashed potatoes, and corn was brought to the table.  He hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and had been running all over town!

  Duo and Cirah had a contest over who could eat the fastest.  This slowly let into more mischievous games.

“Food fight!!!!!”

  Alex quickly ducked under the table, not feeling like being covered with a starch food product that night.

  Ant took an offensive position, bringing up a spoon load of mashed potatoes and launching them at his father. Duo had opted for the defensive position, bringing the now empty chicken platter up to act as a shield. From there he launched bits of potato and corn at the boys. Cirah sat back delighted with the way things were turning out.

  Alex expected that it might be a short fight, however when a chicken leg went careening past her to hit the wall she knew that it was only the beginning of the war.

   After almost a half an hour of complete and utter chaos, the walls were splattered, food was everywhere and Duo had even yelled his trademark, “SHINIGAMI IS BACK FROM HELL!” before proceeding to hit Ant with a piece of chicken. Now there was corn strewn in very odd places, potatoes dripping off of the walls and ceiling and everyone looked like gruesome science experiments save herself. She stood up with a slow smile crossing her lips.

“Boys have cleanup duty. I need to go have some –me- time. Duo, finish the dishes and get the walls clean. Cirah, when you get a shower go home.”

  Everyone nodded meekly in submission to the mistress of the household.  As the boys began the chore of cleaning up, Alex left the room astutely, griping a spatula.

  When Cirah finally did leave, it was nearly 11:00.  He was cleaned up, and the grease had left his skin, but it didn’t seem a big deal to him… Papa was pissed, and tomorrow was not going to be fun.

  Slowly, and nervously, the thirteen-year-old made it up the tree to his window, fearing that his dad would’ve been downstairs waiting to give him a hard lecture and groundation.

  The latch on the small window opened softly, and Cirah smiled a bit as the warmth from the heater came to him from his bedroom.  With a small smile, he leapt to from the window cell to the floor.  He’d escaped lecture…

“Cirah?”  A familiar, mockingly placid voice asked.

Cirah’s eyes focused in the dark, and saw an all too sly smirk on his Papa’s face…

  The boy banged his head against the wall.  He was sooo damn close… fuck…

-Owari-

written by Kage and Kuriyamimizu