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"Bugs of Various Sizes" (Radat) She stood in the doorway, her eyes wandering about her. The room itself was impeccable. Surprisingly so, she thought. The day was near its end, and the last rays of sunlight cast a few squares of light through the windows onto the floor, where a carefully scrubbed rug sat, giving the room a strange yet peaceful ambiance. There was only one potted plant in the room, sitting in the far corner as if it were waiting for someone to come and liven the place up. Indeed, she was afraid to move further into the room, afraid to ruin the scene before her. However, she was looking for someone, and this was probably where that someone was. "Is anyone home?" she called. A shriek and a thump were heard from the next room, then a large clattering of metal and wooden objects against each other. The woman gasped and rushed through the room, tracking dust all over the floor. "Oh, Mrs. Yamamoto!" she cried. There she was, among much of the kitchenware, still holding her wooden spoon above her. A little disoriented, she groaned, sat up, and searched the ground for her glasses with her right hand. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Yamamoto! I didn't realize--" "No, no, it's not your fault. I shouldn't have been standing on the edge of that chair. I know better than that. I guess I was just thinking too hard again." Locating her glasses, she grinned and placed them delicately on the bridge of her nose. "Ah, Michiko! How are you?" "Fine, thanks," sighed Michiko. "I need to--" "Just a second, Michiko. I have a little business to attend to." She stood up, dusted herself slightly, then stepped over a wok and examined her spoon by the light from the window. She smiled to herself. "I finally got that fly." Michiko slapped the heel of her hand against her forehead. "Mrs. Yamamoto! You might have severely hurt yourself!" "Please, Michiko, we don't need to be so formal. Call me Yoshino." "Yoshino..." Michiko sighed. Yoshino smiled gently. "Don't worry about me so much. I am stronger than I appear to be. Now, what did you want to ask me?" "Well, Yoshino, you've been doing our family's laundry for so long that we decided that we should treat you to a special dinner. Would you come and visit us?" Yoshino began to pick up some of her pots. "No, I'm sorry. I will not." And of course, then came the inevitable question. "Why?" "Well," said Yoshino, placing her pots on the countertop, "I am still waiting for word from Freed. I haven't received any letters from him for a while." She sighed longingly. "It's been months since I last saw him." "That Freed." Michiko rolled her eyes. "Yoshino, sometimes I wonder why you ever married him. He's such a 'yes-man'! He's always worshipping whatever comes out of Lord Granmeyer's mouth. Come on, you're too good for him! He doesn't even appear to have a will of his own!" Yoshino walked out of the kitchen and into the front room. It had become dark, and she picked up a match and some kindling to start a fire in the fireplace. "Michiko, I admit that I don't know you that well, and I hate to telling you that I believe you are wrong. I know how Freed appears to you. I just don't believe that you look deep enough into people. Freed's will is strong, and his will is to serve Lord Granmeyer." A fire was now blazing, and it emitted a soft light around the room. Michiko was silent. Neither of the women moved as they stared at the fire. "You may leave now. Bring your laundry tomorrow, and we'll pretend that we never talked about my husband." Michiko took a deep breath and headed for the door. She opened it and stopped short in her tracks. Her way out was blocked. He was a big, muscular man holding a length of rope, and he looked like he knew exactly what he wanted. Michiko frantically looked around her, but found that Yoshino was gone and the room held nothing that she could defend herself with, except perhaps the potted plant in the far corner. She turned to run, but she quickly found the rope wrapped around her neck and a hand on her mouth. "I want anything valuable that is in this house and I want it now," sneered the thief. "Value your life, woman, and give it to me!" Michiko whined and nearly began to cry. "Quiet! I want this clean and simple, you hear?" Suddenly, the rope slackened and the hand dropped from her mouth. Michiko gasped for air and whirled around to see... It was Yoshino, the simple housewife, the town's laundry woman... and she was holding a giant blade-on-a-stick to the thief's neck. "L-l-look, lady, what're you tryin' to pull?" "I want you out of my house, and I want you to leave my guest alone." Yoshino's voice never wavered. It was as if she had been doing this every day of her life, as if today's occurrence was of no significance. "I d-d-don't want to have to hurt you." "Out," said Yoshino, "or your head will promptly be on the floor." She pulled her weapon back an inch and whirled around, making a clean, flat slice in the many stems of the plant that sat in the corner. Michiko didn't think she got to see the bandit leave. She blinked, perhaps, but the next thing she knew, the door had slammed shut and Yoshino relaxed. Yoshino turned to Michiko, whose jaw still hung low on her face. "I could have hurt myself, I know. Don't worry about me so much. I am stronger than I appear to be." Yoshino took a clean cloth from out of her pocket and began polishing her weapon. "I wasn't going to hurt myself. If you looked deep into him, he was just a fly of enormous size and enormous cowardice." She eyed Michiko's face for a minute before saying, "I think I will escort you on your way home." Michiko nodded. Yoshino smiled. At least the girl had learned her lesson.
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