I own nothing

I'm woken up by cold water dumped on me. At least, I thought it was water until I get a mouthful when I let out a shriek. It's pickle brine. I gag and spit out as much of the horrible taste as possible, shivering in disgust at the state of wetness I'm in and at the stubborn flavor lingering on my tongue.

"Yoshi," my attacker says, "That will teach you to sleep in on a workday. School may be over for the summer, but you still have responsibilities, baka."

"Hai, Obasan!" Yes, Ma'am! I groan in reply. I should have known my landlady would do something like this since she's my former nanny. Komori-san lived above her bookstore, which is closer to my university than any of the other apartments I could afford, and I get to work part-time in the shop, so the idea to live with her seemed perfect.

But at the time, I forgot that Komori-san would not be afraid to use her unique disciplinary tactics if I slacked off. I know them all by heart, but not because I was a disobedient child growing up. That was my older brother, and he went through everything Komori-san had perfected over the years as a nanny.

She started in Japan at the young age of thirteen and managed to keep her job in the aftermath of World War II until she earned enough to move to the California coast with her fiancé. She continued her career as a child caretaker, even when she became a mother of her own. Through her kids and her charges, she learned the best ways to praise children and correct them when they were misbehaving.

Komori-san retired after I turned seventeen and bought an old apartment building, renovating the first two floors into a bookstore making the other two her new home. Two years later and business is good, which is why she decided that dumping pickle brine on me was a necessary measure.

I get up off my bed and remove the soaked sheets and comforter. I move the soaking articles into my bathroom and dump them into the tub so I can clean them later. I undress and toss my wet pajamas on top of the pile. Using the sink and a few washcloths, I rinse my hair and clean myself up.

As a final measure to get rid of the pickle smell, I put on some lavender scented lotion. I put on my work uniform as quickly as possible and rush to the kitchen. On the table waiting for me is a plate of peanut butter toast.

"Arigatou!" I thank Rin, one of Komori-san's older granddaughters. She gives me a thumbs up as I grab my breakfast and make my way downstairs to the staff room. As soon as I grab a broom I'm in business mode, starting my routine by sweeping the store's public areas, opening blinds and checking inventory. I finish in the Foreign Works section and see that the bin for Assorted Mangas is half empty ("Masaka half full!" Komori-san would say, "Never!"), and I make my way to storage. I sneeze the minute I open the door.

"Damn it, Daiki," I curse, "Literally, all you have to do is this one job. Why can't you just dust this place?" Mentally scolding Komori-san's grandson, I step inside the store room and walk towards the back. The bulk of the Assorted Mangas comes from the local library as donations. The mangas in better condition go out on the floor while Komori-san keeps the rest for herself, or she'll give them as presents to anyone she thinks will like it.

We use a crate to hold all the mangas in, which I make my way towards in the far back of the storage room. Pretty soon I kneel down next to it and start taking out some mangas. I'm starting to make a decent pile when I come across a manga with nothing on the cover but an apple and a sword behind it. Weird, I think to myself as I bring it closer for inspection, manga covers usually have people on them. This one didn't have a title or author on it, either, which is strange for any book. Besides the drawing on the front, the purple cover doesn't offer anything of interest. I open it to the first page and see a symbol, which to me looks like a golden six-point snowflake possibly bordered by a pair of wings. That's the only way I can describe it, and because I'm going to college for a Masters in cryptography, such a design intrigues me.

I continue to leaf through the pages and find them all to be blank. What in the hell? I wonder, Is this someone's manuscript or something? About halfway through I finally come across some words written in Japanese. I breathe a sigh of relief at the Katakana text, which I'm better at translating than Hiragana and Kanji. I read the sentence in my head to figure out the pronunciation, and once I think I got it I say it out loud.

"Hikiai, Akagami no Shirayukihime." Witness, Snow White with the Red Hair. What Snow White with red hair? I ask myself, thinking back to every version of the fairy tale I ever heard. Suddenly a brightness explodes from the pages, and I barely have time to drop the manga when the light blinds me. I fall onto my back and keep my eyes closed. I wait out the rays until after a while they seem to fade away. I brave a peek and open my eyes. It's still lighter than the store room is supposed to be, but that's because I'm not in storage anymore. I'm in a library.

I stand up and try to blink out the blotches in my eyes while taking in my surroundings. The library is gorgeous. The oak shelves have gold plating along their edges. There are desks scattered all over the place. As I explore the room, I realize that it's even bigger than I first thought. Curious, I look at some of the titles on the book spines. I'm surprised to see them written in a blend of Kanji and Hiragana. Who would read this kind of dialect? What kind of library am I in? Where am I?

A throat clears behind me, and the minute I turn around a sword is aimed at my throat. I gasp and back up into the shelves, the sword following. The man wielding the sword appears to be in the older twenties, wearing a black long-sleeved collared shirt with a vest decorated with ornate patterns along the edges, light-coloured pants, and a jacket draped over his shoulders. He has fair skin and blonde hair that reaches his chin. His posture looks relaxed, but I know better. I took fighting lessons from Komori-san's husband, and one of the first things he taught me was how to read an opponent. That's what this guy is doing to me, and I hope he doesn't see anything he doesn't like.

"Stop, yameru," I say, seizing him up in case I have to flee. I open my mouth to explain myself, but I hesitate. His features suggest he's European, but the book titles behind me are in Japanese. I don't know whether to use English or Japanese. I've never been in this kind of situation before. He gives me a small smile that I can only describe as mocking.

"Is there something the intruder wishes to say but is too mousy to speak further?" My eyebrows shoot up. Did he just say I'm mousy? I set my jaw and give him a glare. Now that I know this guy uses English, it's time to demonstrate why no one has ever described me as mousy.

"I wouldn't know, sir, as I am unaware of an intruder in this facility. Unless of course you're referring to me, in which case you are clearly mistaken, as I am not an intruder, but an unfortunate soul who came into this facility by accident." I take a small pause to catch my breath. "How's that for 'too mousy'?"

The guy doesn't say anything, but his smile turns into a frown. My gut tells me that may not be a good thing. His light blue eyes stare into mine like he's trying to look into my soul. Looking for any reason to stab now, ask questions later. Maybe three beats pass before he sheaths his sword.

"If what you say is true, then you shall be treated as a guest of this castle and shall be aided in any way necessary. But if I find one reason to believe your lying," he stalks up to me until I feel his breath on my skin, "You will be arrested and tried as a criminal. Do we have an understanding, Little Mouse?" I see the truth in his eyes, and for a moment I'm scared. But after the moment passes I assert myself and lean my face even closer to his in retaliation, our noses brushing.

"I understand crystal clear. Now that that's settled, here's something else that should be understood. I'm not Little Mouse. I'm Memphis. Memphis Frost. And something else I'd like to mention... wait, you said castle."

"Yes, I did," he responds and backs off, then puts his hand over his heart and bows to me. "A pleasure to meet you, Lady Memphis Frost. I am Izana Wistaria, the first prince of Clarines Kingdom." He straightens himself, and his mocking smile returns. The first prince? The first prince of Clarines Kingdom?

"...Nani?" I blurt. What?

Please R&R. And if someone could tell me if I'm writing the Japanese incorrectly, please do, as I want this story to be enjoyable for you guys.

Lot's of Love

~Navy