Lord Cynic: "We're back. And this time, I'm in charge of this one-shot."

Mashu: "Which means, considering the genre, it's bound to be perverted."

Lord Cynic: "Is not!"

Mashu: "We'll see…"

Lord Cynic: "I don't own Golden Sun, so there."

The price for forgiveness

Garet Kirin gulps. If the soul-piercing glare Jenna Zagan is directing at him is any indication, he's dead meat. No, even worse, he is a carcass left to rot in the desert until the skin and meat have eroded, leaving bare bone. Bone that snaps like thin twigs.

Yeah, he is definitely screwed. But it's not like he planned to barge into her room while she was changing.

Wait, what?

Okay, time to explain what happened. But first, I'll pause the scene before Jenna goes psycho and blows up the place.

There, now I can give the low-down. Behold!

(Note: This is all within the same day, just a recap of the events preceding the current predicament. Keep that in mind, in case the use of tense gets confusing.)

Garet is a boy of little book smarts, but an abundance of physical strength. Little brains, lots of brawn. Prefers instinct to common sense. Well, the general concept is there. When an idea is implanted in his mind, he follows it through without hesitation. Sort of like a robot whose only function is to obey its programming. Or the remote.

Okay, I'm done with the Garet-bashing. But I digress.

This morning, the instant he awoke –thus silencing his booming snores – he was on a mission. To find a peace offering for Jenna as a sort of apology. Apology for what? He would rather not say. Although, and keep it under wraps, it involved fire and a brand new dress. And an entire outfit. And an entire wardrobe.

Nonetheless, for once, when the sun crept through his window and slapped his face with the force of a salmon, he was straight out of bed. And immediately down the stairs into the kitchen – without any pants. Yeah, okay, boxer shorts, but that's not the same thing. Anyway, with a muffled gasp, he vanished back into his room to get dressed. But not before everyone else erupted into gales of laughter.

Take two, and the second entrance into the kitchen revealed the broom-haired boy fully clothed. He ignored the smirks from his sister and brother, with some difficulty, grabbed a piece of toast from the pile on a plate on the kitchen bench and high-tailed it to his room again.

In retrospect, he could've done that in the first place, right? Oh well, what's done is done. Moving along…

Once inside his room, fully dressed, awake and mouth full of an item of food, Garet contemplated his next plan of action. Then again, he is not one to devise anything fancy. He is hardly the romantic type, he doesn't read many pieces of literature (rather, he doesn't read more than signs and cereal boxes), and besides, he figures Jenna's a bit of a tomboy anyway. Surely, he didn't think he'd have to do anything… lovey-dovey to gain the auburn-haired girl's forgiveness. Yeah, that was it.

But what exactly to do… oh!

Without another thought, he raced out of the house. He hurried along the street, missing an amusing incident involving his friends Isaac Cybele, Mia Boreas, and the foreign girl Feizhi Flora. When he reached his destination, he stood outside it somewhat hesitantly. Like a lost puppy, if you will.

The local florist. Well, he was there; he might as well get it over with. His resolve in check, he entered the indoor forest of flora. When the ding-a-ling bell next rang and the door next opened, he was gingerly holding a bouquet of daffodils, a slightly disgruntled expression on his face.

Stupid giggling girls… Jenna's not my girlfriend… I think.

Garet shook his head to clear it of the slightly disappointed thought. He just needed Jenna to forgive him, if that. He only hoped that she wasn't still after his blood, after what had happened before. Well, only one way to find out.

The redheaded boy made his way to Jenna's house. Thankfully, at this time her brother Felix is job searching so he didn't have another set of eyes burrowing into his skull. Or rather, the over-protective Zagan sibling wasn't standing outside the door like a bodyguard. Garet breathed a sigh of relief, gathered up his courage and stepped inside the house.

It was oddly quiet, he realised. Maybe Jenna was also out? Well, he could leave the flowers in her room and hope she got the message. Yeah, that would work. What could go wrong?

Poor, naïve Garet.

As soon as he opened her door, he discovered it was still occupied. By a very shocked Jenna. Who was half-dressed. Who became, upon his intrusion, extremely furious.

This is where we left off. I'll press the Play button and we'll see what happens.

Garet feels a frosty chill tingle along his spine, a contrast to his sweating hands, which are clutching the bouquet clumsily. He really didn't mean to charge in while she was, and still is, half-dressed. It's not like he's a pervert or anything. It was just bad timing, an accident…

Jenna's eyes hardened.

Please don't hurt me…

Garet shakily regains his senses and apologises profusely, for this and that other thing. He hurried dumps the bouquet on the dressing table. Without facing Jenna, he steadily makes for the door. He's almost safe from a seemingly inevitable early grave (just how long did Jenna's detonator have before she exploded?)…

Except for a sickeningly sweet voice, that freezes him to the spot.

"Oh, Garet…"

With one foot out the door, Garet hesitates. Should he dare face his fate or linger for as long as possible?


Garet swallows and slowly turns around. The sight he beholds makes his eyes positively bug out.

Jenna striking a seductive pose in her undergarments.

"Do you like what you see?"

Nosebleed. Collapse.

Jenna watches Garet fall on the floor, blood oozing out of his nose like a leaky faucet. When he is determined unconscious, a warm, compassionate smile spreads across her face.

"You're forgiven, you big lug."

The End

Lord Cynic: "The concept for this sorta originated from Naruto. Namely, the "Sexy no jutsu". No comment."

Mashu: "Pervert."

Lord Cynic: "I am not a pervert!"

Alternative scene

But what exactly to… oh!

He raced over to his phone and dialled his best friend, Isaac Cybele. A few rings echoed through the receiver, and Garet wondered exactly what the blonde boy was doing. Surely, he wasn't as late a sleeper as he?

Finally, the click of someone receiving from the other side.

"Uhn… who is it?"

"Isaac, it's me. Listen, I need to apologise to Jenna for something."

"Oh… you mean "that"?"

"Yeah, that. What do you suggest could make it up to her?"

A yawn. "Well, besides from letting her kick your butt, maybe some flowers? Girls always seem to be a sucker for those."

A feminine moan was heard through the receiver, and Garet raised an eyebrow.

"Isaac… who's on the phone?" A familiar voice.

"Heh, heh. Isaac, you old dog, you," Garet chuckled.

Suddenly, the dial tone of a hung-up phone.

Garet grinned to himself, before realising what he had to do. Without another thought, he raced out of the house.