Getting What You Want
by Karina
Chapter
1
The
Day Before
In
this world, there are only two tragedies: one is not getting what you want,
and
the other is getting it
Oscar
Wilde, Lady
Windermere’s Fan
Nothing
is so good as it seems beforehand
George
Eliot, Silas Marner
“Wa
di u shay u er in’iting ush to?” Yusuke
asked, his mouth full of food.
Yusuke,
Keiko and Botan were seated at a corner booth in Keiko’s ramen house, Yusuke
eating a bowl of noodles, which he had immediately exalted to high heaven.
A ceiling fan in the middle of the room made rhythmic whoop-whoop
noises, which was the only sound in the room, except for Yusuke’s chewing.
Outside,
through the plate glass window, the noontime sun beat down on the concrete road
and on the backs of the passers-by, turning everything into a bustling, human
stew.
Botan
looked perplexed. “What did you
just say?” she asked Yusuke.
Keiko
crossed her arms on her chest. “He’s
asking you what occasion you were inviting us to,” she said, deadpan.
Yusuke
swallowed. “Hey, Keiko, how did
you know that? You’re amazing!”
He grinned widely, revealing a piece of spinach stuck between his two
front teeth. Keiko sweatdropped.
“Wow!”
Botan shook her head, astonished. “How
in Reikai did you understand what he said?”
Keiko
turned to her. “It takes a lot of
practice, determination and strength of
character to understand Yusuke-ese,” Keiko said with mock gravity.
She grinned. “But seriously, I’ve known Yusuke for so long that it’s
a skill that comes naturally.”
Botan
sighed. It must be nice to know someone as well as that, she reflected.
She thought instantly of Koenma, her boss, friend and…what else?
She didn’t know. Sometimes
she felt that she was his sister, or his mother, or…something else quite
different. Something more
special…
Something
more special? Yeah, right!
Botan almost snorted.
Keiko
looked at Yusuke who was thoroughly enjoying his bowl of noodles, and shook her
head. “Besides, that’s the way
he usually talks. With his mouth
full, I mean.” She shot Yusuke a
mind-your-manners look.
Yusuke
smiled sheepishly. “Eherm… but
anyway, what were you inviting us to, Botan?”
he said, changing the subject.
“There’s
going to be a feast in Reikai on Sunday night,” Botan explained.
“It’s called ‘The Marvelous Miraculous Feast of the Three Hundred
Sixty Five Thousandth Moon’.” She caught her breath, and continued. “Anyway, it’s supposedly a night in which all of the
wishes made in Reikai when the clock strikes twelve will come true for three
days. It happens once every one
thousand years.”
Yusuke’s
eyes widened. “Is that true?!”
he said excitedly. Then he frowned.
“And why only three days? Why
not forever?”
Botan
shrugged. “I don’t know.
Enma-sama said something about…about being careful what you wish for.
Something like that.”
“Have
your wishes ever come true, Botan?”
Keiko wanted to know.
“Well,”
Botan began. “I’ve never
actually been to one so I wouldn’t
know if it’s true.” She notices
Keiko and Yusuke’s disbelieving looks. “What
are you--? HEY!!! I’m not that
old!” she shouted, placing her hands on her hips.
“Hehehe,”
Keiko laughed nervously, scratching the back of her head.
“I’m not saying that you’re old,
of course not! Um…I was
just… wondering if what you’re telling us is true, that’s all.”
“Well…
you’ll just have to find out for yourselves,” said Botan mysteriously.
“So are you coming?”
“Wouldn’t
miss it for the world,” Yusuke replied. Maybe
I’ll wish for a hundred pepperoni pizzas…or maybe a huge vat filled with
chocolate sundae…or maybe…
“The
feast is on Sunday, right?” Keiko asked her, interrupting Yusuke’s
bacchanalian thoughts.
“Yup.”
“But
that’s tomorrow!”
“Well…I…kinda
forgot to tell you sooner, with all the preparations going on.”
Botan grinned sheepishly. “Sorry
‘bout that!”
“But
what are we supposed to wear? Is this a formal affair?” asked Keiko.
“Oops!
I almost forgot.” Botan rummaged in her pocket. “I was supposed to give you this.” She extracted a crumpled piece of black cardboard from her
front jeans pocket (she always wore ningen clothes whenever she went to
Ningenkai) and handed it to Yusuke and Keiko.
“Everything
you need to know is in that invitation.”
Keiko began smoothing out the invitation card. Printed on the topmost portion in gold, capital letters were the words ‘THE MARVELOUS MIRACULOUS FEAST OF THE THREE HUNDRED SIXTY FIVE THOUSANDTH MOON’
Also
printed in gold letters were the following words:
You
are cordially invited to The Marvelous Miraculous Feast of the Three Hundred
Sixty Five Thousandth Moon (whew!) It
is a night when wishes come true, and it happens only once every millennium.
After
much deliberation, you were chosen as one of the few people to attend this
momentous occasion, so we hope for your kind attendance.
In
other words, this is serious business, baka, so you better show up or else!
Yusuke
and Keiko facefaulted.
The
feast begins on the 10th of February, Sunday, 11:00 p.m. and ends
after three days. The wish casting
should be done at exactly 12:00 am on the 11th of February.
The
participants could wear anything they are comfortable with, but are highly
encouraged to wear at least one black-colored article of clothing (In
case you were wondering, this has nothing to do with the effectivity of the wish
casting. We just don't want you
clashing with the color scheme of the décor or something…)
We
also highly encourage you to think well about what you want to wish for.
In the words of the famed poet, Gorgonzola the Omnipotent:
Think
well about what you wish for
You
may regret it soon
And
a peach is a peach, a plum is a plum
A
kiss ain’t a kiss without some tongue…
So
open your mouth
And
close your eyes
And
give your tongue some exercise!
“This
poem sounds familiar. I can’t
help but think that I’ve read it somewhere,” Keiko mused.
“And who’s Gorgonzola the Omnipotent?”
Botan
grimaced. “Actually, that’s
George’s poem. He actually thinks
the name ‘Gorgonzola the Omnipotent’ is cool.”
“I
never knew that that oni was a poet,” Yusuke remarked.
“Come to think of it, I never even knew he could rhyme.”
A
VERY heavy fist-sized rock wrapped in brown paper suddenly fell on top of
Yusuke’s head (ouch! Where’d that come from?).
Keiko gingerly picked it up and unwrapped it.
She slowly read aloud the message hastily written on the paper.
Be
careful with your words
I
could hear them all the time
For
your information
I
know very well how to rhyme
Gorgonzola
the Omnipotent
Botan
groaned. “George is kinda in a
poetry trip right now. Now you can’t talk to him unless you rhyme too.”
Keiko
surveyed the paper again. “Still,
you have to admire his speed. Imagine,
he thought of this in a few nanoseconds!”
“However,”
Botan commented, stroking an imaginary goatee, “his style is a bit stiff.
Not enough flowery words for my taste.”
“But
that’s what imparts the HONESTY to his work!
You can just imagine the real George Saotome saying these words.
His work is so,” Keiko thought of the perfect word, “REAL.
So George Saotome.”
“But,”
Botan cut in, “you must agree that a poet must find the ideal amalgam of truth
AND beauty. There IS truth in Saotome’s poems, but its presence is at
the expense of beauty. He must
incorporate some more gracefulness into…blah, blah, blah…”
“But
still, truth still holds more value…”
“What
is truth without beauty, anyway?”
“But,
I wouldn’t think that…”
“Still,
it can be concluded that…”
Yusuke
watched them, dumbstruck, his head turning from Keiko to Botan, Botan to Keiko.
The vein throbbing at his temple was almost as large as the bump on his
head (caused by the heavy rock).
Finally,
when the girls started comparing George’s poems to Keats, he couldn’t take
it anymore.
“WILL
YOU PLEASE STOP TALKING ABOUT THAT POETRY?!?
I’M GRAVELY INJURED HERE!”
Keiko
and Botan looked at him.
“You
must excuse him,” Keiko told Botan. “He
has not been thoroughly immersed in fine literature, thus, his knowledge of the
art of verse is disconcertingly banal, to say the least.”
“You
are quite correct to think so,” Botan replied.
Yusuke
fainted.
*
* *
They
spent the next thirty minutes trying to revive Yusuke (Hah! Serves him right,
thinks Gorgonzola the Omnipotent from somewhere in Reikai).
When
he finally came to, Yusuke muttered something about how he’d like to strangle
the next person to talk to him about poetry.
(Hmph, grumbled Gorgonzola the Omnipotent from somewhere in Reikai)
Yusuke
shook his head ruefully. Well,
enough about that, he thought, turning his mind to the feast instead.
What should I wish for?
Maybe I should wish for a dozen sirloin steaks…
“Well,
so long, guys,” said Botan. “I
gotta go. Still have to tell the others about the feast.”
She stood up to leave and walked towards the door.
Keiko
waved. “Bye, Botan!
Thanks for inviting us.”
“Yeah,
thanks,” Yusuke said absently. Or
maybe I should wish for a hundred juicy hamburgers…or maybe a big bucket
filled with fried chicken…or maybe…
* * *
Botan
made other similar trips to several other people. The reactions she got ranged from delight (Yukina and
Kuwabara), to mild interest (Shizuru and Kurama), to absolute indifference
(guess who?). By the time she was
finished, her body was sore and she was dying to get some rest. The mere thought of a soft bed was irresistible, as she
trudged along the hallway leading to her room, already half asleep.
“But
Botan is a nice girl, Koenma –sama!”
George’s
(or rather, Gorgonzola the Omnipotent’s) mention of her name, suddenly made
her eyes snap open. She tiptoed to
Koenma’s office, where the voices were coming from, and pressed her ear
against the door.
From
the sound of it, she deduced that Koenma was pacing around the room and that
George (Gorgonzola the Omnipotent) was fidgeting.
She could hear the slap of Koenma’s shoes against the floor.
George’s (Gorgonzola the Omnipotent’s) weight was making the
floorboards creak audibly.
“I
know, but she’s just not suitable…” Koenma’s last words were muffled by
George’s (Gorgonzola the Omnipotent’s) fidgeting.
Not
suitable?
“Botan’s
the best possible person you could choose, Koenma-sama!”
Gorgonzola the Omnipotent insisted.
“She’s kind, and friendly, and…”
“But,”
Koenma interrupted, “she’s not intellectual enough.
You know I need someone intellectual.”
A
long pause.
Not
intellectual enough? Botan raised an eyebrow.
“I’m
afraid you’re right Koenma-sama,” came the oni’s disappointed voice.
Not
intellectual enough?
Koenma
tried to reassure Gorgonzola the Omnipotent.
“Look George, I mean, Gorgonzola. I have nothing but kind words to say about Botan.
But…”
George
interjected. “Then why don’t you…”
Muffled
again, darn it! George, stop fidgeting! Botan
pressed her ear harder against the door.
“I’m
sure,” she heard the oni say, “that Botan will agree to your proposal.”
Botan’s
eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated shock.
Proposal?
PROPOSAL?!!
“I
mean,” the oni continued “I know she’ll be willing to accept. After all,
you’ve been friends for quite a while.”
Willing?!
Botan’s eyes were
still bulging out of their sockets. Oh, I don’t know about that…
“I
know that,” Koenma replied. “She’s
just not the right person, you know.
When it’s the right person, I’ll know.”
Not
the right person?
Not
intellectual enough?
“Oh…”
Botan mumbled. She had a blank look
on her face. “Oh…”
“Suit
yourself, Koenma-sama,” George muttered.
“Just remember that your father set a deadline for this.
You have to find someone soon.”
Koenma
grumbled. “Don’t pressure me,
George.”
“I’m
just reminding you of your responsibilities.”
The
creaking of the floorboards grew louder, indicating that George was walking
towards the door. The doorknob
rattled as he placed a large, blue hand over it.
Botan noticed these things, but she was too shocked to move away from the
door to avoid being discovered.
“And
the name,” George paused for effect, “is
Gorgonzola.”
*
* *
“Not
intellectual enough.”
“Not
the right person.”
Koenma’s
voice was ringing in her head.
Botan
lay on her bed, tossing and turning, tossing and turning, tossing and turning.
“Not
intellectual enough.”
“Not
the right person.”
“When
it’s the right person, I’ll know..”
“Not
intellectual enough.”
“Not
the right person.”
“When
it’s the right person, I’ll know..”
Botan
groaned loudly. “ARRRGHH!!! Why is this bothering me?!?”
“Botan,”
a groggy voice from the other side of the room murmured.
“Do you plan to sleep anytime in the near future?”
Botan
was startled. “You’re still
awake, Ayame-chan?”
“Well,”
Ayame said impatiently. “Now
I am.”
“I’m
sorry, Ayame-chan!”
“It’s
okay.” Ayame sighed.
“Just stop making noise and go to sleep, okay?
We’ve got lots to do tomorrow, with the big feast and all.” She pulled up her blanket and went back to sleep.
But
going to sleep was furthest from Botan’s mind.
The loud cacophony of Koenma voices in her head rose to a fever pitch.
“Not
intellectual enough.”
“Not
the right person.”
“When
it’s the right person, I’ll know..”
“Oh look!
I’m so pathetic!” Bitchy Botan screeched inside her head. “I just got dumped by
my boss because I’m such a ditz!! Ain’t
that grand?”
“Be quiet,” Saint
Botan chastised in a prudish voice.
But
once Bitchy Botan got started, she never wanted to stop.
“She’s nice and all,” Bitchy
Botan mimicked Koenma. “But
she’d bore me out of my skull!!! She’d
blab and blab and make absolutely no sense…ugh!
Who’d want to marry someone like that?
I need someone more… INTELLECTUAL.”
Botan
flinched.
St.
Botan spoke up. “He
didn’t say anything like that! He said, and I quote,” St. Botan gets a
parchment scroll out of her pocket. “‘But she’s not
intellectual enough. You know I
need someone intellectual’, unquote.” She
crossed her arms over her chest and pouted.
“He didn’t say any of that ‘she’d bore me out of my skull’
stuff. You just made it all up!”
“Who cares about the
details?” A
sigh from Bitchy Botan (who’s not the ‘sighing’ type) surprised St. Botan. “Honey, that was the
ESSENCE of what your dear Koenma-sama
said. I simply tell it as it is.
What are YOU anyway, a camcorder?”
“Don’t
‘honey’ me!”
“Ooh! So you DO
have some spunk in you, eh?”
St.
Botan made a sign of the cross. “Father,
forgive her, for she does not know what she is doing…”
Botan
lay awake the whole night, ignoring the voices, and thinking.
Pondering might be a better
word.
Why
does this affect me so much?
I mean, he’s just my boss…
Hah!
That was a laugh! He
wasn’t just her boss. He was her friend…maybe even her best friend.
And,
of course, there was that other thing. The thing
that makes her think of him more than usual.
The thing that she was afraid to acknowledge. And yet, strangely, she was also afraid of not acknowledging it.
Because
it seemed to her that if she didn’t
acknowledge the feeling soon, if she didn’t admit it to herself and to him,
the chance would be gone forever.
And
she had a feeling, a very bad feeling, that she would live long enough to
experience what forever was like.
Looking at it from this light, a messed-up eternity was all the more
frightening.
Maybe…
Maybe I do
care…
Botan
sighed.
What does it matter anyway?
He doesn’t care about me…
* * *
Koenma
paced around his room, wondering how he can possibly tell a person that he
cared.
This,
of course, was supposing there was a person, and supposing that he cared.
It
was all hypothetical, of course.
Ah, Koenma, he
thought, who are you kidding, anyway?
Hypothetical.
Yeah, right.
The
fact was, he did care.
He had been caring about a certain person for some time now.
In fact, he would have been completely happy caring for her silently.
But alas, the clock does not stop for anybody, even for someone as old as he
was. He’d have to confess his
feelings to her, and soon.
Koenma
has never really had a way with words, or rather, the right
words. He can always say insults or
orders to his staff with stunning accuracy, but when it came to saying the right
words, he was forever at a loss. Other
things just come out of his mouth. Still,
it must be said that there was no malice behind these words, only the grip of
nervousness and chronic hernia.
He
eventually graduated from pacing the room to clenching and un-clenching his
fists repeatedly. Still, the same thought echoed in his mind.
How am I going to tell her?
he thought worriedly. Ordinarily,
he wouldn’t have thought of it. However,
ever since he reached the royal “marrying age” on his birthday a few days
earlier, Enma Daiou had been dropping hints all over the place.
Conversations with his father have become increasingly peppered with
phrases like “heir to the throne” and “the joys of parenthood.”
Why can’t I just be
more…romantic or something? he
thought, utterly frustrated. He
thought of hiring a scriptwriter to write lovely words for him to say. George Saotome – correction, Gorgonzola the Omnipotent –
would be bouncing off the walls (literally) should he be hired for the job.
But Koenma finally decided against it.
If he had to read lines from a script, he thought, wouldn’t that make
him look insincere? And besides, he probably won’t be able to say two words of
it, even if his life depended on it.
But
it was probably the thought of George – I mean, Gorgonzola the Omnipotent
(this is getting a bit tedious) – bouncing off the walls like a big blue
rubber ball that made him decide against it.
Was the safety of Reikai worth
less than his own personal happiness? Nope,
he didn’t think so.
So
what was he to do? Was he supposed to stay this way forever, the nagging boss,
the workaholic fool, the clumsy almost-suitor?
He couldn’t bear another hundred years of this, much less an eternity.
The
clock ticked away. It was a few seconds to midnight. 10…9…8…7…6… 5…
4… 3…2…1…
Then
came an epiphany. It was so obvious, the solution to his problem, that he
wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before.
Starting tomorrow, my life will
be very much different, he
thought. He smiled to himself.
He turned out the lights and gradually drifted into a peaceful, deep sleep.