Summary: Miu wants to test out her new invention, but she picks the wrong target.
Rating: T.
AO3
“Hehehehe….”
Miu chuckles to herself as she makes the first snowball. It’s bait, of course – drawing whoever her unlucky victim is into her trap. She pokes her head above the bush hiding her, glances here and there, and on spying the singular person strolling down the sidewalk, lets the snowball fly.
“Oh!” Tsumugi – the singular target – covers her ass with both hands. She whirls her head to and fro, searching for whoever threw the snowball at her. Her eyes narrow as they single in on Miu, where her head still pops out above the bushes. “That was just plain mean!”
“It was a perfect ass shot!” Miu cackles, propping her hands on her hips as she does. She waits just long enough for Tsumugi to throw a snowball at her face – “Hey! I didn’t hit your face!” – before dropping back behind the bush. Her newest invention, Miu Iruma’s Snow Sniper 2000, scoops snow seamlessly with its shovel into the back. (This is not the 2000th version of the Snow Sniper; it’s just a cool name, and Miu loves the hype.) Then she pops back up, giggling to herself because there’s no way Tsumugi has any idea what she’s in for—
Only to find that Tsumugi has disappeared entirely.
Miu blinks twice. In her mind, each of those blinks is audible, like in Looney Tunes or one of those other old-timey cartoons she loves so much. (There are a lot of them, but Looney Tunes is her favorite. It’s a shame that coyote’s inventions didn’t pan out the way they were supposed to. That’s why – eventually – she’ll invent a line of products that fix each of them. Acme Smack Me. (Hah!))
Of course, none of that matters if she can’t find her intended target.
“Tsu-poopie!” Miu calls out. “Where’d your fat ass go?”
Tsumugi gasps audibly – offended – and Miu would know the sound of her voice anywhere. (UH. She doesn’t mean it like that! She definitely doesn’t know what Tsumugi’s gasps sound like! Not, uh. Not in a weird way, or anything! Tsumugi knows what her gasps sound like! Hah! …wait. That doesn’t make it any better.)
Point being, Miu’s gambit pays off, and Tsumugi gives away her location by reacting, and Miu whirls around towards the sound of her voice while lifting her Snow Sniper 2000—
Only for Tsumugi to drop an impressively large bundle of snow on Miu’s head.
“?!” Miu sputters, and in her surprise, she lets go of her Snow Sniper 2000. “The fuck, Shitty-gone-y, you got snow down my boobs!”
“What’s this?”
Shit shit shit shit.
Miu rubs the snow from her face and out of her eyes just in time to see Tsumugi holding her Snow Sniper 2000. She flinches. “N-n-nothing! It’s a new invention, and I wanted to—”
“To test it out on me?” Tsumugi asks, only it doesn’t sound like a question at all. Her eyes narrow, and as Miu starts to splutter again, she whines out, “You were plainly going to shoot me with this…this thing!” She holds the Snow Sniper 2000 aloft.
“B-b-be careful! It’s fragile—”
“Oh, it is?” Tsumugi hefts the Snow Sniper 2000 and aims it at Miu’s breasts.
“I-I-I’m fragile, too!”
Tsumugi’s finger clutches on the trigger.
“Eeeeeee!” Miu hunches over and covers her head with her hands. The Snow Sniper 2000 isn’t powerful enough to cause any real damage, but a blast of snow at her chest – or at her head now – is still gonna suck.
But nothing happens.
Miu blinks twice again – just as audibly, in her opinion as before. She slowly stands up and stares – not at Tsumugi, but at the Snow Sniper 2000. “It didn’t work?” She crosses her arms. “It did just fine during testing. Did something—”
Tsumugi shoots.
~
Later, back at Miu’s lab, Tsumugi says, “I think you should just plain equip both of us with one, if you want to test it on plain people like me!”
Miu grumbles, still holding an ice pack to her forehead. (If Tsumugi were holding an ice pack to her forehead, she would laugh at the irony. Right now, though, she’s just annoyed.) “Needs better testing.” “That’s plainly obvious! You could shoot your eye out with that!”
Chihiro: I like wearing oversized sweaters. Not just because they're extremely comfy and cuddly, but because whenever the sleeves are really big, I get to flop them around and smack people.
It is a tradition dating back to the decision of my ancestor Queen Frida in 1763.
I believe it had much to do with her strong beliefs regarding Judas Iscariot- she was a devout Lutheran- and possibly her possessing Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder or triskaidekaphobia. I have not been able to completely confirm.
Essentially, she stated that if the 13th minutes ends and you have still not arrived, misfortune will follow. Thus, it became a mandate that everyone must arrive at least 13 minutes prior to an established meeting time. Restrictions have eased since then, but it remains a strong tradition.
