Hanazuki: An Egg to Crack

by Stacy Davidowitz

  Hanazuki held Doughy’s flapping bun in place. “How did you not know about Tenders?” she asked. “You’re the one who made his cake, remember? It was in the shape of a chicken tender!”

  “Silly me,” Doughy said. “I’d thought you said, ‘chai kin tender,’ so I designed a cake that looked like a spilled cup of cardamom tea.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Let’s pack it up,” Dazzlessence said, slamming his notebook shut. “We’ve got to move on to the next suspect.”

  Hanazuki pulled Dazzlessence aside. “I’m worried that if left alone, Doughy will find Tenders before us.”

  Red was suddenly between them, jumping up and down with an idea, shouting, “ZA ZA ZA!”

  That meant nothing to Hanazuki, so she plowed on. “What if he eats Tenders’s wings, Dazz? Sure, they might grow back, but can you imagine the pain?”

  Red shook his head, and his ears slapped against Hanazuki. “Seriously, Red? I’ve got ideas of my own, and I can’t think straight!” Hanazuki held Red’s ears still and watched Dazz sparkle with a plan.

  “‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,’” he said. “I read that on the back of a cereal box once.”

  “I like it. Make Doughy one of us.”

  “Exactly.” Dazz approached Doughy, singing, with his hand out for a shake. “Congratulations, you hotdog-meister! You are now promoted from serious suspect to . . .”

  Hanazuki joined him, and together they sang, “Assistant detective!”

  “Me? Assistant detective?” Doughy squealed. “Leapin’ linzer tortes!”

  Red pointed to himself and shouted, “GRUH ZEE FROO GRA!”

  “Sorry, Red,” Hanazuki said. “The position is Doughy’s.”

  “The position is mine,” Doughy confirmed. Suddenly, his bun was styled like a trench coat and his crown was sitting on top of a fedora on his head.

  “GAH-GAH ZEE GROO-ZEE ZAH!”

  “I’m not trying to bruise your ego,” Hanazuki explained to Red. “I’m just trying to keep Tenders safe.”

  “ZUH DUH ZOO.”

  “This is about him, not you.”

  “ZEEDER! MEE! ZEEDER MEE!”

  “Fine! Tag along! If you want a real leadership role on the detective squad, you’re going to have to prove yourself. No complaining, no getting in the way. You have to be part of the team. OK?”

  “PA GA,” Red shouted in agreement.

  Hanazuki turned her attention to Dazz, who was studying his notebook. “I need ideas and I need them now!” he sang. “Who’s got ’em? Shout ’em out to—”

  “Ahem,” Doughy cut in. He was sprawled across the picnic table, licking his lips. “More croissants, please.”

  “You work for us now, Doughy,” Hanazuki snapped. “If you want brain fuel for the road, you’re going to have to grab it yourself.”

  Doughy groaned and rolled off the table onto the bench and then to the moon earth. Then he waddled into the pastry farm and returned with eleven cronuts. “Speaking of brain fuel, have you talked to my mean brain neighbor? I’ve been waiting for the chance to interrogate him ever since he called me a rubbish bucket.”

  It was the first helpful thing Doughy had said all morning. Of course they should be questioning the maniacal brain in a cave! Hanazuki and Dazz smirked at each other, ready to rock. Next stop: Basal Ganglia.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  WHAT IS A CHICKEN BRAIN?

  “Well, hello there, Hanakooki,” Basal Ganglia said.

  “It’s Hanazuki,” Hanazuki corrected him. “You know it’s Hanazuki.”

  “Do I?”

  “Yes. We’ve gone over it, like, a million times.” Hanazuki exhaled, readying herself. It was interrogation time. “We’ve come to talk to you about something very important.” She watched Basal Ganglia shift his eyes around his cave. Dazzlessence Jones was circling, writing in his notebook. Doughy Bunington was in the corner, eating a donut out of his fedora. Red Hemka had annoyingly climbed up onto Hanazuki’s head. She had no idea why. For intimidation purposes? If so, it was unclear whether the intimidation was working or not.

  “Did you know, Hazakooni, that repetition is good for the brain?” Basal asked.

  “I did not know that,” Hanazuki said.

  “I know a lot of things, Hakazooni.”

  “Supercool! So. Here’s the deal.”

  “Basal Ganglia the Great is closed for deals.”

  “I just meant that I’m going to tell you something.”

  “Not if I tell you something first. MWAH HA HA HA!” Basal laughed on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on.

  This wasn’t working. Hanazuki waved at Dazz for help, but his nose was buried in his notebook. She waved at Doughy instead. He waved back. “No, Doughy,” she mouthed. “Help me.”

  “You got it!” Doughy pressed a donut to Basal’s frontal lobes. “Assistant detective to the rescue!”

  That wasn’t exactly what Hanazuki had had in mind, but it seemed to have a positive impact. Red clapped his ears over his head, egging Doughy on. Doughy curtseyed.

  Meanwhile, Basal asked, “What is this traitor of a pastry?” He squirmed to remove the flakes from his membrane. “Is it a donut or a croissant?”

  “Both,” Doughy replied, very much pleased with himself.

  Basal shook his lobes, very much displeased. “Pick one, sausage-stinker. Donut or croissant. The pastry can only be one thing. It doesn’t make sense. My cortex cannot compute it!”

  “Uh, guys?” Hanazuki said. “We are MAJORLY off task here. We came here, Basal, to talk to you about Tenders. Do you know Tenders? He’s a Chicken Plant. About yea high.” Hanazuki held her hand down beside her knee.

  “Ah, yes. Tenders,” Basal said.

  “He’s been chicknapped,” Hanazuki explained.

  “Ah, yes. Chicknapped.”

  “Do you know who chicknapped him?”

  “Ah, yes, Hanakoozi. I do.”

  “Who?!”

  “ME! I DID IT! I’M THE RULER OF THE MOON. I WIN! ME! I CHICKNAPPED TENDERS! MWAH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!”

  Hanazuki wasn’t sure if she should feel relieved that they’d cracked the case or terrified that Basal Ganglia was behind the chicknapping. She focused on the relief and allowed herself to smile. The maniac brain in a cave was responsible! She could go back to Chicken Plant with some actual news! Progress had been made!

  “Don’t get too excited,” Dazz whispered to her. “We still need to get Tenders back safe and sound.”

  “Copy that.” It was time to push Basal to the next step. Hanazuki dropped back into serious detective mode and yelled over his laughter, which was laughier and crazier than ever. “SO, AS YOU CAN PROBABLY GUESS, WE’RE GOING TO NEED TENDERS BACK.”

  There was a long silence. “Well, well, well,” Basal finally said. “What do you know? The Moonflower with a red basket case on her head needs my help.”

  Red began to growl, and suddenly Hanazuki had a migraine.

  “Actually, Red, can you get off?” she asked him. He hopped to the ground. “Tell us what you want, Basal.”

  “Well, as any half-wit might guess, I would like to be declared ROTMAPFAPCAFCBIAR.”

  “Which stands for?”

  “‘Ruler of the Moon and Pardoned for All Past Crimes and Future Crimes Because I Am Ruler.’”

  Hanazuki glared at him. She was the one who was supposed to make the deals. Not the chicknapper! Still, what choice did she have? She clarified. “If I agree to whatever you just said, then you’ll return Tenders safe and sound, right?”

  “Maybe.”

  “What do you mean, ‘Maybe’?”

  “Exactly that. Maybe, baby.”

  Before Hanazuki could so much as scream, Dazzlessence threw down his notebook and sang, “This diamond is taking the wheel!” He got right in Basal’s face. “Listen up, you smelly infected brain jam. Tenders is this moon’s baby. Tenders is this moon’s heart. Tenders is this moon�
��s symbol of hope. What you have done has ripped this moon apart. Ruler, you say? Ha! Decent rulers don’t CHICKNAP. Decent rulers don’t say they’re CLOSED FOR DEALS and then try to MAKE DEALS. Decent rulers don’t DEMAND IMMUNITY and then MAYBE offer to GIVE BACK THE CHICKNAPPED CHICK PLANT IN RETURN!”

  “Is that so?” Basal asked Dazzlessence, a smile playing on his lippy lobes. “So what do decent rulers do, you Wild Western overpriced jewel?”

  “The opposite of everything you doooooooooo!”

  “You go, Dazz!” Hanazuki cheered. “You tell him!”

  “That’s funny,” Basal mused. “Do you suggest I follow your lead, Dazzy boy? Must I sing to get my way? Is that your recommendation for the moon’s mastermind?”

  “Don’t diss my singing.”

  “You have an unpleasant vibrato,” Basal said. “I have a pleasant vibrato. La! La! Laaaaaaaaaaaaa!” He sounded like a strangled cat. Hanazuki stuck her fingers in her ears.

  “That’s it,” Dazz snarled. “Assistant Detective Doughy B, hand me another donut.”

  There was a menacing pause.

  “Oh, me?” Doughy finally asked, now paying attention. “I’m all out.”

  Red offered Dazz the two cronuts he’d tucked away in his ears. Dazz took them and stormed toward Basal.

  “NO, NO, NO! DON’T YOU DARE!”

  “I don’t like my pastries being used as punishment,” Doughy muttered. “I find this very insulting.”

  Undeterred, Dazzlessence shoved the pastries into Basal’s lobes.

  Hanazuki’s Moodblossom began to pulse red. She was feeling feisty and fiery!

  “Booyah,” Hanazuki said, snapping her fingers together with the flick of her wrist.

  “SHU GRAH,” Red shouted, snapping his ears together with the flick of his neck.

  Dazzlessence put his diamond shoulder right up to Basal’s cerebellum. “Now spill where Tenders is, or I’ll really go diamond in the rough on you!”

  “YOU HEAR THAT, YOU HORRIBLE SACK OF NEURONS?” Hanazuki shouted at Basal, her bracelet pulsing red, too. Red Hemka was excitedly gripping her neck, which was more than unpleasant, so she tossed him in the air. He morphed into a devil, then landed in her arms as his squishy self. Hanazuki didn’t want Red in her arms, so she tossed him again. He morphed into a devil again. They did this on repeat—toss, devil, normal—until Red decided to shake things up and poke Basal with his ears.

  “I wish you would stop, tomato bunny.”

  “Red, please,” Hanazuki said, peeling him off of Basal. “I’m trying to do something here.”

  “Thank you,” Basal said.

  “I didn’t stop Red for YOU!” Hanazuki shouted. “You are the EVILEST BRAIN in the MOONIVERSE! If you don’t tell us where Tenders is RIGHT NOW, I’m going to tell the brains on all the other moons just how EVIL you are through ECNYWYWAPO, which stands for—”

  “Elite Cerebral Network You Wish You Were a Part Of.”

  “That’s right, Mister! BOOM!” Hanazuki was feeling so unstoppable, she bent her knees and hopped from foot to foot like a professional boxer. Ooh baby, was she strong! Ooh baby, was she powerful! Ooh baby, was she feisty! Blowing off steam felt amazing!

  That is, until Basal Ganglia burst into giggles. “MWAH HA HEE HA HA HA HEE!” Then, all her strong, powerful, feisty feelings got sucked right out of her. “Um, what’s so funny?” she asked self-consciously.

  “First of all, you’re out of cronuts!” He giggled some more, his pitch climbing. “Second of all, you think Chicken Brain and all the other brains think I’m NICE? Well, nice brains finish LAST! Go ahead. Go on the Elite Cerebral Network You Wish You Were a Part Of. And if you have any trouble connecting—the cable guy keeps changing the password—then write a letter. We’ll photocopy it, and Little Dreamer will deliver it around the galaxy to all the brains. Ask that unicorn friend of yours. He knows what’s up. Alert the presses: I’M NASTY! MWAH HA HA HO HA HO HA!”

  Chicken Brain? Hanazuki wondered, chills crawling up her neck. A letter?

  Hanazuki and Dazzlessence looked at each other. This mission was far from over. Next stop: Sleepy Unicorn.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE PLOT CHICKENS

  “SLEEPY! SLEEPY! SLEEPY!” Underneath a giant purple mushroom, Hanazuki shook Sleepy Unicorn awake. “WE NEED YOUR HELP!”

  “Well, hello, Hanazuki,” Sleepy Unicorn drawled, mid-yawn. “Hello, Dazzlessence. Hello, Doughy. Hello, R—”

  “Red, that’s right,” Hanazuki broke in. “Hi. Yes. We’re all here. Hello.”

  Dazzlessence whipped his notebook out, ready for a confession. Doughy devoured a muffin top. Red held Sleepy by the mane. Hanazuki gripped Sleepy’s shoulders and said, “We’ve got questions. We need you to answer them honestly, and also super quickly.”

  “Wow. Sounds like a high-stakes job interview,” Sleepy said, side-parting his mane. “Should I put on a tie? That might give me an advantage, looking profesh and all.”

  “No tie,” Hanazuki said. “This isn’t an interview.”

  In one fell swoop, Dazzlessence flipped Doughy’s fedora off his head and onto his own. He sang, “Hold onto your hats—this is an interrogation!”

  “I don’t have hats,” Sleepy said. “I don’t even have one hat. Just pajamas. Wait, I’m not wearing pajamas. How embarrassing. Well, now you know. That’s how I sleep.”

  “TMI,” Dazz said. “Now, I’m only going to say this once, so listen good: We know about the ‘Big L.’”

  Sleepy touched his hooves to his heart. “Love?”

  “What? No. The letter.”

  “Which one?” Sleepy asked. “‘A’ or ‘B’ or ‘C’—”

  “No, the letter, as in the handwritten note, as in the ‘Dear blah blah blah . . .’”

  “Blah Blah Blah?” Sleepy asked. “How confusing that someone should have the same first name and middle name and last name. Also, ‘Blah’ sounds like the name of a boring moon creature. Is he boring?”

  Dazzlessence sang, “AHHHH!”

  Hanazuki shouted, “AGGGG!”

  Red yelled, “YAAAA!”

  Doughy rubbed his bald head, just now realizing that his fedora and crown were missing.

  Meanwhile, Sleepy had started to fall back asleep. In a fit of frustration, Red pinched him until his eyes were fully open. “We have a secret source who says you recently wrote a letter,” Hanazuki said. “Did you or did you not write a letter?”

  “Yes,” Sleepy said.

  “Yes, you did write a letter?” Hanazuki asked. “Or yes, you didn’t?”

  “No,” Sleepy said.

  “No, you didn’t write a letter?” Hanazuki asked. “Or no, you did?”

  “Both.”

  Red screamed.

  “I wrote the letter with my hoof,” Sleepy explained, “but I didn’t sign it from my hoof. I signed it from—ZZZZZ.” His legs sprawled out and he flopped to the ground. He was out again, snoring up a storm.

  “Sleepy?” Hanazuki asked. She yanked his mane. Red pulled his ears. Dazz sang in his face, “Sleepy? SLEEPY? SLEEEEEEEEEEEEPY?!”

  Sleepy’s eyes shot open. “Oh, hey there, Dazz. Oh, hey there—”

  “Yup, we’re all still here,” Hanazuki cut in. “Who did you sign the letter from?”

  “Tenders,” Sleepy answered.

  “Tenders!!!” Dazz exclaimed. “We’re on the right track, baaaaaby!”

  “The letter you wrote for Tenders,” Hanazuki asked Sleepy. “Who was it addressed to?”

  “I can’t possibly remember all their names,” Sleepy said.

  “One,” Hanazuki said. “Just remember one.”

  “Duck.”

  “A duck?”

  “No, a chicken.”

  “How? Why?”

  “So! Many! Questions!” Sleepy fanned himself with Red’s ear. Red shape-shifted back into a devil. Sleepy screamed and released Red’s ear, which was now a pitchfork.

  “RED! ENOUGH WITH THE SHAPE-SHIFTING!” Hanazuki shouted. “
YOU’RE LIKE A FIRECRACKER THAT CAN’T SIT STILL!”

  “ZOO WHOA SHAW GUH MA BA DA PEY KEY REEEEE!” Red threw himself into the air, spun in a circle and then flung his ears wide like an exploding firecracker as he spun down on top of Sleepy’s hair.

  “SERIOUSLY?! Are you TRYING to stop me from doing my job?!”

  “There’s a lot of hot tempers in this ’shroom,” Sleepy said warily. “I need to loosen my tie. Where’s my tie?” He looked at Dazz. “Oh, right. You never gave me the chance to put it on. Can I borrow your hat?”

  “There’s my hat!” Doughy said. “I’ve been looking all over for it!”

  “ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.”

  “SLEEPY!” Hanazuki shouted. She tickled under Sleepy’s arms. Red jumped on his back. She tugged at his tail. Red whistled in his ears. Nothing. Sleepy was fast asleep.

  “Should we call it?” Hanazuki asked, defeated.

  “Onward and upward,” Dazz said.

  Just as the detective squad was about to leave, Sleepy’s dream mystically appeared through a holographic projection: It was the tail end of Tenders’s birthday party. It was late. The Chicken Dance was playing for the thirty-ninth time. Tenders waved Sleepy Unicorn over to him. Three power naps later, Sleepy made it across the dance floor and asked, “What’s going on, Chicken Tenders?”

  Tenders replied, “Unicuncle Sleepy, can you write a letter for me? I hear you’re good at getting letters places because of your magic.”

  “I am, Little T. You tell me what you want it to say, and I’ll write it for you. I’ve always wanted to be a scribe. Or a dentist. Anyway, I’ll send the letter wherever you want through space spam.”

  “Space spam?”

  “It’s like snail mail, but without the snails. Whoever gets it will see a robotic version of your face and will hear you speaking the message.”

  “Cool!”

  Tenders whispered into Sleepy’s ear, and Sleepy wrote down everything he said. It read:

  Dear Junior, Chicklet, Nuggets, Parmigiana, Burger, Drumstick, Salad, Skewer, and Duck, Wassup? This is Tenders. I am your brother. I am a Chicken Plant, not chicks like you. I am going to visit Chicken Moon to meet you. See you soon, my brothers from the same mother. The same mother is Chicken Plant, in case you forgot. I can’t wait.