Best Friends Forever, or, Why Wriggle Wears Shorts and Not a Skirt

Keine and Mokou were sitting together by the edge of the Bamboo Forest one night, the moon three-quarters full.

“It's been a pretty crazy summer,” said Mokou. “Can't believe it's finally over.”

“You can say that again,” sighed Keine. “For a while there I was this close to erasing a fairly large chunk of history.”

“That incident in July? With the wasps?”

“That, and the ants.”

“Oh yes … the ants. What a lot of fun that was, strafing half the countryside to burn out all the anthills,” chuckled Mokou. “Seriously, I enjoyed that.”

“It would have been nice if you told us ahead of time, by the way. The humans in the village have seen a lot of things, to be sure. But even so you don't expect a raining hell of columns of fire to come pouring down from the sky in the middle of the night.” Keine cleared her throat. “Necessarily.”

“They were pretty scared, weren't they?” Mokou smiled. “Running around aimlessly, screaming. Terrified for their lives. Heh. Anyway, what's for dinner?”

“Ah right,” Keine sat up, “Well, I decided to bring-”

She stopped, and held up her hand, listening. Then they both heard it: the whistling, the same, asinine tune as always.

“Oh no,” whispered Keine. Mokou groaned, whispering back, “How does she always know?”

“I don't know,” sighed Keine. “Alright, just humor her, she goes away sooner if you pretend to listen.”

“Yeah.”

Mystia floated down from the sky, landing before them. “Hey, Keine. Hey, Mokou.” she chirped happily. “What are you guys doing here?”

Mokou bit her tongue. Why do we go through this?

“We were just talking about Mokou's attack on the ants.” Keine said flatly.

“Oh, right. I didn't see that. Hey! Wanna see what I can do?”

Mokou shrugged. Neither said anything. Regardless, Mystia took a couple steps back.

“Ready?” she beamed. “OK!” Then Mystia began to dance, very enthusiastically. Her elbows and knees stabbed the air as she stamped clumsily, occasionally giving it a spin, her smile frozen on her face. Mokou and Keine watched expressionlessly. They'd seen this routine six times already in the past weel alone.

At long last, Mystia made one final spin as she jumped in the air, and then landed in a split, her hands held up high, triumphantly. She panted, out of breath, waiting to get a reaction, her eyes wide with expectation. Keine cleared her throat. “That's … very nice, Mystia, but you've shown us that routine already. A few times.”

“This is kind of embarrassing,” said Mokou.

“Alright, well, I'm still practicing. And I think I'm making progress,” Mystia pouted. “Anyway you're maybe just a little bit jealous. What kind of dancing can you do in those overalls?”

“Eh? Overalls?” asked Mokou, sitting up a little straighter. “Excuse me?”

Keine held up her hands. “You two, I really think-”

“I don't have to wear a skirt like everyone else around here, you know.” Mokou fumed. “I have my reasons.”

“You can't dance.” smirked Mystia.

“What is wrong with you? No. It has nothing to do with dancing.”

“Suuure it doesn't.”

Keine broke in, “Mystia, Mokou's right. And you should respect her position. There's no dress code around here.”

“Yeah, seriously, do you give Wriggle a hard time because of her short pants?” Mokou asked.

“Well no. Wriggle has a very good reason for not wearing a skirt. And I mean a very good reason.”

Mystia smiled conspiratorially. Keine and Mokou sat in silence, waiting. After a few beats it became apparent that Mystia was waiting to be prompted.

“Well?” asked Keine. “What is it?”

“I can't tell you,” Mystia answered happily.

“Oh you have to tell us now,” said Mokou. “You don't just say something like that.”

“Well I promised.”

“OK then.” Keine said, and crossed her arms.

Mystia looked a little surprised. “Well … OK then … “ she said warily. “Have a good night!” and flew off.

Keine sighed, and said, “Anyway, for dinner I brought-”

“You know we're going to see Wriggle, right?,” Mokou cut in. “Now I have to know.”

“You can't be serious. Mystia was probably just lying to impress us, like she knew something we didn't. Think about who were dealing with here.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” said Mokou, and smiled, “Wouldn't hurt to find out, though, would it?”

“I guess not. Seeing as how you're going to insist anyway.” Keine smiled back.

2.

Wriggle stretched out her legs as she leaned back against a tree. “Ah, alone at last,” she smiled, reaching into a small satchel at her side, and taking out her copy of Cities of the Red Night. “Mmm … space travel,” she giggled happily.

Mokou and Keine dropped down from the sky, landing at her feet. Wriggle sat up, startled.

“Uh, hey, you two. H-How's it going?,” she asked with forced nonchalance as her mind raced to figure out what she could have possibly done wrong.

“Oh, not much,” smiled Keine, “We were just passing through, you know, and-”

“We want to know why you wear shorts,” Mokou cut in.

Wriggle blinked, looking at one and then the other. “W-Why do you wanna know that? What do you care, huh?” Her tone turning defensive, “And what about you, Mokou? How come you wear pants, huh?”

“Because I have horrible, ghastly scars all over my body,” Mokou shrugged. “Everyone knows that.”

“Oh.”

“Look, Wriggle,” began Keine, kneeling next to Wriggle, “we were just curious. If you don't want to-”

“Well? Spill it,” Mokou cut in again. “We're not leaving until you tell us.”

Wriggle blushed, squirming, hesitant. Mokou grinned.

“Is it because … you're not really a girl? Hmm?,” she teased. “Afraid you'll be flying along, and someone'll look up and notice a suspicious bulge in your bloomers?”

“What?!,” snapped Wriggle, blushing a deep crimson, “Of course not! I'm a girl!”

“Oh yeah? Well, I'm not gonna take your word for it.” Mokou pounced on Wriggle, gripping at the waistband of her shorts.

“Aaah! Get off me, you pervert!” Wriggle struggled, but it was clear Mokou was much stronger. The button of Wriggle's shorts popped off. Keine had to intervene.

“Mokou! Stop it. What is wrong with you?” Mokou paused, still holding onto Wriggle's shorts. Wriggle panted, wiping tears from her eyes, pushing Mokou.

“Get off me!” she snapped. “Gosh. I'll tell you, alright? It's not even that big a deal.”

Mokou got off of Wriggle, and sat besides Keine. “Sorry,” she mumbled, looking at Keine.

“Alright,” said Wriggle. “The thing is, I have … a tattoo. On my right thigh. It's nothing, really, but it's pretty obvious, and I got it a long time ago, when I was young and having a phase. I'm over it. I just don't want to keep answering, 'Hey, Wriggle, what's that on your leg? Hey, Wriggle, why'd you get that on your leg? Hey, Wriggle, blablabla I'm a stupid stupidhead.' That's all. There. Happy now?”

Keine and Mokou both looked pretty surprised. Then Mokou started laughing.

“A tattoo, Wriggle?,” asked Keine, confused. “You? Of all people?”

“I said I was young. And I was hanging out with the wrong crowd.”

“I have to see it,” said Mokou between laughs. “Seriously, you have to show it to us now.”

“I have to say I'm pretty curious myself,” Keine admitted.

“Please no!” Wriggle begged. “Please don't make me do it! Seriously, it's really embarrassing.”

“Wriggle,” Mokou smirked. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. And you don't want the hard way. Remember the ants.”

“The ants,” Keine agreed, nodding.

Wriggle realized there was no way out. She had no choice. Slowly, she stood, and pulled up the right leg of her shorts. Keine and Mokou watched with rapt attention, then gasped simultaneously.

Wriggle's tattoo was done on the inside of her right thigh, almost completely covering it. It was Flandre, riding a kirin, which was bucking up on its hind legs, while Flandre held Lævateinn aloft, and appeared to be pointed it at Wriggle's crotch. Above the image of Flandre was an unfurled scroll, on which was written “MY BEST FRIEND”, and beneath it was another unfurled scroll, on which was written, “IS TOTALLY COMPLETELY AMAZINGLY COOL AND I LOVE HER SO MUCH FOREVER AND EVER”.

“Oh my,” murmured Keine.

Mokou considered the image for a moment. “What's that coming out of Flandre's eyes?”

“Lightning,” Wriggle mumbled.

Mokou snickered, then burst into laughter.

“It's not funny!” Wriggle cried. “I was a totally different person back then.”

“Yes, stop it, Mokou,” said Keine, even though she was laughing herself. Then she paused, thinking. “Wait, I don't understand. Since when are you and Flandre friends?”

3.

20 Years Ago

“JUH-juh-uh-JUH-juh-uh-JUH-juh-uh-JUH-juh-uh-JUH! JUH! JUH!” Flandre jumped up and down on Remilia's bed, singing, while Wriggle stood beside the bed, fists clenched, enthralled. Flandre is so cool, she thought. Wriggle's eyes shone as she watched Flandre jumping, laughing gleefully. Flandre doesn't care what anyone thinks. She's not stuck up like her older sister, or tightly wound like the maid. She wouldn't cry if she got teased by other youkai for playing with bugs. She'd fight back if they threw mudballs at her and called her names like "Spittle Roach Butt". That's just how cool she is.

“JUHJUHJUHJUUUUH-juhjuhjuh!” Flandre concluded her song.

“Alright!” cheered Wriggle. “That was awesome!”

Flandre shrugged. “Yeah. Comes pretty natural to me, really. I dunno. Sometimes I'll be just sitting there while Remi's talking to me and all I hear is bssssshhhhhhhhhhhh.”

“Bssssssshhhhhhh! Haha. That's so her.”

“I know. She can be so …” Flandre, at a loss for words, put her hand under her armpit and started making fart sounds. Wriggle started laughing so hard she doubled over. She could never get the same sound Flandre could, no matter how many times she showed her how to do it.

“Oh wow that is so funny. Stop it, Flandre, please. Stop!” Wriggle gasped.

“Yes, do.” Sakuya sighed, entering the room. “And what are you doing up here anyway? You know how your sister feels about-”

Flandre belched loudly, causing Wriggle to laugh again. Sakuya rolled her eyes.

“Yes. Hundreds of years old and you still have the mind of a child.”

“I am not a child!” Flandre shouted. “I'm older than you.”

“Well, if you acted like an adult, maybe you'd get treated like one,” Sakuya replied. I'm even starting to bore myself with as many times as I've said that, she thought.

“Whatever.” Flandre hopped down from the bed. “C'mon, Wriggle. Let's leave the domestic help to do her chores.”

“Yeah,” Wriggle scoffed. The two of them stomped out of the room.

Sakuya watched them leave. I should probably tell Remilia that Flandre is probably leaving the mansion to do who knows what, she thought. But then again, it'll probably be me sent after her. In which case, no thanks.



“This place is so boring,” groaned Flandre, kicking a rock as she and Wriggle walked through the Forest of Magic. “Nothing ever happens here. Like ever.”

Wriggle snorted in agreement. “Totally.” Normally, she'd be keeping an eye out for the youkai who enjoyed bullying her. But with Flandre around, she walked tall. She looked at Flandre and smiled. It would be so incredible to be Flandre, she thought. She isn't afraid of anything.

“Hey, I know,” said Flandre, with a wicked grin on her face. “Why don't we visit Alice?”

“Really? Why? She's so ...” Wriggle tried to make the fart noises with her hand under her armpit, but instead it made a weak clapping sound. This embarrassed her deeply, but Flandre didn't seem to be paying attention anyway.

“C'mon,” said Flandre, beaming, and started off in the direction of Alice's house. “Let's have some fun.”



Alice was stitching together a doll with loving care. It had been a long day, and this was her way of unwinding. Windchimes gently twinkled in the window, as soothing sandlewood incense wafted through her home. A few candles bathed the room in a warm light. It was good to be able to relax.

“Heya, Alice!” Flandre barked loudly as she threw the door open, startling Alice, the point of her needle pricking her thumb. Flandre and Wriggle both burst into laughter. Alice rolled her eyes.

“Oh. It's you two,” she said flatly, putting down the doll. “And why do I deserve the pleasure of your company today?”

“Ah, ya know,” Flandre said coquettishly, walking casually towards Alice. “We were just in the neighborhood and thought we'd pop by to-”

“I don't have any treats today,” Alice interrupted.

“Oh.” Flandre remarked, crestfallen. “Really? You don't?”

“No. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm very busy right now, so unless you have a doll-related question, I'm going to have to see you two another time.”

Wriggle and Flandre looked at each other. Doll related? What did that even mean?

“Well, um, I have a question,” said Wriggle.

“Yes Wriggle?”

Wriggle stood there, smiling blankly. Alice regarded her, vaguely annoyed. A few seconds passed.

“Sorry,” said Wriggle. “That was a lie.”

Alice sighed. “Right. Well, that was entertaining. Look, I really-”

“I wanna know something,” Flandre piped up. “How do tattoos work?”

Alice looked at her as if she were trying to make up her mind about something. At last, she folded her hands on her workbench, clearing her throat. “Well, Flandre, a tattoo is made by using a very sharp and thin needle. You dip it in ink, and then pierce the skin. This leaves a tiny drop of ink in the skin. If you make a series of tiny drops in a row, you get a line. In this way, you can make designs in the skin. Colored inks are often used as well.”

Flandre nodded. Wriggle looked at her, waiting for the joke, smiling anxiously.

“Do they wash off?” Flandre asked at last.

“No, they do not. But in humans, as the skin relaxes with old age, the lines can become a bit thicker, and blurry.”

“What about youkai?”

“I honestly don't know any youkai who-”

“And vampires?”

Alice paused. “Flandre, are you thinking of getting a tattoo?”

Wriggle gasped, her eyes widening with admiration. Flandre is so cool!

“I dunno,” Flandre shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Maybe. Maybe not. What's it to you?”

At that moment, an idea occurred to Alice. A perfectly wicked idea.

“Well, Flandre, it just so happens I know how to give tattoos. But, if you're still undecided ...”

Flandre and Wriggle turned to each other in wide-eyed excitement.

“You have to give me one!” Flandre beamed.

“Me too!” said Wriggle.

“Really?” Alice smirked “Are you sure? I mean, a tattoo is forever. Now, I know you're not at all someone who'd act on sheer impulse, so I do hope you-”

“I'm sure!” said Flandre.

“Me too!” Wriggle echoed.

Alice folded her arms across her chest. “Very well then. I'll give you both tattoos. On one condition: you can decide what you want a tattoo of, but I get to decide where I put it. Deal?”

“Deal!” Flandre and Wriggle both piped up together.

“Very well then,” Alice said, standing, suppressing the urge to chuckle. “Come with me. Flandre, you're first.”

“Yes!” Flandre cheered, both of them practically shaking with excitement. “This is going to be so amazing!”

4.

At this point in the story, Wriggle stopped, and bowed her head.

“Well? So what happened?” asked Mokou impatiently.

Wriggle looked up at Mokou and Keine with pleading eyes. A smile slowly spread across Keine's face.

“Ooooh. I get it,” Keine nodded. “Our little rebel got her heart broken when Flandre didn't get a tattoo of her.”

“You guys are mean!” Wriggle pouted. “You're not going to tell anyone, are you?”

“Oh, Wriggle. Don't worry," said Mokou. "I'd rather forget I ever saw that ... thing.”

“Same here,” echoed Keine. “That thing's pretty hideous.” Keine considered a moment. “So what did Flandre get?”

“If I tell you have to promise never to tell Flandre I told you, OK? Because Alice did a very bad thing. I hate her.” She gave the ground a little punch for emphasis.

“Sure, I promise,” Mokou smirked. “It couldn't have been worse than that.”

“I promise, too.” Keine added.

“Alright,” Wriggle sighed. “Well, Flandre told Alice she wanted a tattoo of a hand on fire. And Alice said she wanted to put it on her back.”

Mokou and Keine waited for her to continue.

“Well that doesn't sound so bad.” Keine shrugged. “A little corny, maybe, but nothing like that … thing you showed us.”

“Only the thing is,” Wriggle continued, “Alice didn't make what Flandre asked for.”

“Oooh,” Mokou grinned. “Right, Flandre couldn't see it if it's on her back. You could do anything, and by the time you saw the tattoo, it'd be too late. Niiice.”

“Oh no,” Keine's eyes widened. “Well, what did Alice do?”

Wriggle cleared her throat, bowing her head. "She drew a kitten hanging from a tree branch, and wrote Hang In There - It's Almost Friday under it."

"Ouch," snickered Mokou. "Way too cute for Flandre."

"That was probably the point," remarked Keine. "Not too bad."

“I guess,” Wriggle mumbled. “Flandre got back at her and all. Broke in her house in the middle of a dinner party and started trashing the place, scaring the guests out. Don't think it bothered Alice that much. I mean, you can clean up a house, you know? A tattoo, though. That's forever.”

“As you know all too well,” Mokou smirked, patting Wriggle on the head condescendingly. “Well, thanks, Wriggle. That's all we wanted to know. Later on.”

Mokou started walking away. Keine looked at her, then turned to Wriggle. She looked at her piteously for a moment, then crouched down, and whispered in her ear, “I think you're very brave, Wriggle,” Keine smiled at her, and Wriggle blushed, smiling weakly back. She nodded her thank-you. Then Keine stood and caught up with Mokou.

Wriggle lay back against the tree, looking up at the stars, listening to the chirping of the crickets. She smiled contentedly. Keine is so cool, she thought to herself.

(Image source: Pixiv)