A day at home usually began like this: I groggily sensed the dazzling sunlight, then instinctively dodged to the side. Right after that, Suigintou's big box would land on the bed with a bang. This little doll, who would never succeed, persistently used this method to wake me up. By now it had become a habit; even in her sleep, she would launch herself into the air at six-thirty in the morning and come crashing down. Then I would open my eyes, stare blankly for a while, and three minutes later knock open the box beside me, pull out the equally muddleheaded Suigintou, comb the little doll's hair, and check her teeth while she bit me. Then I would go to the Water Room to brush my teeth, while watching Ding Dang, who couldn't brush her teeth, eat toothpaste with cold water. Sometimes Little Bubble would drift out from some place nobody could possibly imagine and ask for a hug. By the time I had taken care of several little ancestors, I would be completely awake, and then I would head downstairs for breakfast...
Daily life was this peaceful. There were no flames of war, no shrieking air-raid sirens, no battle damage reports and casualty estimates flying in like snowflakes. Though it made life seem rather idle, it was also the kind of life I liked best. Even soldiers like Sandora, who had grown accustomed to the battlefield, seemed incomparably satisfied with it.
Of course, Pandora and Viska might have been exceptions. Days of loafing around and waiting to die made the sisters feel like they were sitting on pins and needles. If their cannons went four hours without firing, they seemed ready to explode from holding it in.
Today was the third day since returning home. Everything in our