Fushigi Yuugi Fan Fiction ❯ Happy Birthday, Hotohori! ❯ Breakfast Time ( Chapter 2 )

Since Hotohori was naturally a very shy person, the only people who had ever heard him sing were those who had overheard him by chance singing to himself in the garden in his youth. He had a rich, mellifluous baritone voice that would strike any celebrity singer with a pang of envy. Hotohori knew this, too, and as he proceeded to the dining hall with a comatose Miaka, the overwhelming joy in his bosom drove him to release his talent with exaltant joy for all to hear:

"The hills are alive.... with the smell of waffles....."

He rounded a corner and came face-to-face with Nuriko, tears welling up in his eyes, his hands clasped together and held up to his chest. "Hotohori... that was beautiful..." He reached out and gently held Hotohori's face with his hands. Hotohori's expression turned from one of dreamy joy to one of grave seriousness.

"Nuriko, let go of me. We" - he rethought his wording - "...I have important affairs to take care of in the dining hall, and I will brook no interference on this matter. Understood?"

At first griefstricken, Nuriko took his hands away and started to nod solemnly before noticing Miaka slung over his majesty's shoulder, her posterior riding high in the air.

"Oh, it's that little tramp again isn't it?! Is that what this is about?!?" he cried indignantly, pointing to the girl.

Hotohori leaned in close with slit eyes, his nose mere centimeters from Nuriko's. "When I say I have important affairs to take care of..." He paused for dramatic effect. "It means LET ME THROUGH!!!"

Nuriko fell over, and all was well in the world once again.

Chichiri appeared in front of Hotohori seemingly from nowhere. "Your majesty! This is not an issue to be fought over, no d-" He turned and saw that Nuriko had already fallen and was twitching like a drugged-up fruitfly. "Ah... well I was a bit late this time... no da." (He then thought to himself: "Somebody really ought to tell his majesty to brush his teeth before any human contact in the morning.... no da.")

Hotohori was beginning to grow impatient. His stomach - yea, his very soul - ached for the flavorful essence of waffles, and none but his fellow Celestial Warriors were getting in his way. Figures.

"Chichiri, my stomach, yea, my very soul aches for the flavorful essence of waffles, and none but my fellow Celestial Warriors are getting in my way! I implore you to stand aside. Go tell Zhuge Liang to make this passage wider. It has been quite a bother as of late."

Chichiri smiled. "Your majesty, there are plenty of waffles to sate your appetite as well as the rest of ours! Come to the dining hall, and you shall be pleasantly surprised. No da."

Had the issue been something other than waffles, Hotohori would have indubitably shouted, "THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN TRYING TO DO! DAMN DAMN COAL-BURNING DITHERING DING DING DING!!!" However, such was not the case, and waffles were foremost in his mind, above and beyond witty retorts, the priestess of Suzaku, beauty products, and let's not forget those pesky affairs of state. With strained patience, he nodded and followed Chichiri to the dining hall. Upon entering, his eyes were greeted by the ubiquitous glowing golden aura of piles upon stacks upon rows upon towers of fresh, yummy waffles. Indeed, for such an occasion a fancy tablecloth (the only kind the palace had) would be undesirable, thus in order to protect the table from sticky syrup messes a layer of waffles was arranged on the table beneath the stacks, covering the entire surface save a circular section in the center, where an industrial-size pot was sitting with a gigantic spoon sticking out of it.

Hotohori's jaw dropped, and his tongue slowly rolled out over his chin, shining with salivary products.

"In the pot," he said, making a half-hearted attempt to keep his salivary products in his mouth, "Cao Cao... what's in the pot, pray tell..."

Cao Cao smiled his old crinkly smile, the corners of his mouth like cling-wrap bound tightly around a sandwich - a BLT, to be exactly precise.

"Syrup, your highness," he said, "Four gallons of Sima Yi Sticky Syrupy Sauce, carried on the backs of three elephants all the way from XuChang." Never mind the difficulty of carrying a single pot on the backs of three gigantic beasts.

Just then, a loud THUD was heard as Miaka slid from Hotohori's shoulder and hit the hard wood floor head-first. Several attendants rushed to the scene, rolling her on her back and checking her out. (^_~ ewww) Hotohori assumed an erect posture and a straight, closed-mouth face, and turned around, inwardly cringing at the thought of the vast quantities of waffles so close, and yet so far away from him.

"Ba bababababa bababababaa..."

The attendants whispered amongst themselves. "What's she saying?" "It's incoherent babble-talk..." "Has her mind regressed?" "Maybe it's an incantation from her world!" "Shh, shh!!! She's opening her mouth again...."

"The joy of cola...." The still-unconscious Miaka sniffed the air. As if a cart of smelling salts had just toppled over her, her eyes popped open and she sat up, turning her head to see the glorious feast behind Hotohori. She jumped up, stretching her arms out to the fantastic display.

"FUDD BLUB Blubb ohh head rush..." she slumped back to the floor, unconscious again, as clumsily and awkwardly as she had woken up. For some reason, Tasuki decided that now would be the best time to come out from under the table and show himself. He prowled over to her side, thinking himself a stealthy wolf, and she a fresh carcass.

"Restrain yourself, Tasuki," said Hotohori, his voice quivering. His patience was being pulled thin as oleic acid*. "Take her to her room. And DON'T eat her, or you're not getting any waffles."

Tasuki growled in disgruntled agreement, grabbed the collar of Miaka's uniform between his teeth, and scampered off, looking not like a majestic wolf with his prey, but more like a chimp dragging a rather large sack of potatoes... with his teeth.

Hotohori turned and approached the table. The other constellations, as well as his own personal attendants, were standing around the table, uncomfortably watching this whole spectacle. He sat down at the head of the table.

With more than a little glee dripping from his words, he proclaimed, "I bid you all to sit. Let breakfast commence."

*Oleic acid spreads out over water so that it's one molecule thick. Or something like that.