Good day to you. I hope that you are indeed eager to continue this 
tale. Just, please, do keep in mind that I do not own Shin Tenchi, 
Tenchi Muyo, or any of its affiliated characters. You can do that for 
me, please? In any case, continue enjoying.

Days of Future Passed: Chapter Two
Another Morning

	Clink. Clink. Clink.
	Ryoko sighed as she listened to the rhythmic tapping of the 
hammer against the chisel. 
	Clink. Clink. Clink.
	Its sound rang sharp in the still silence that she and Daika 
worked in. He said nothing when sculpting. 
	Clink. Clink. Clink.
	The chill of an autumn breeze whistled across her bare chest. She 
shivered. It was all she could do to stop from getting up and shutting 
that window he always had open. She'd no idea that modeling took so 
much discipline. 
	Clink. Clink. Clink.
	"That will be all for today, Ryoko." Daika's soft voice said to 
her. "I cannot do anymore today." 
	That was the way he always ended a session. Ryoko rose to her 
feet. As usual, Daika turned from her as she dressed. Then, of course, 
he'd shut the window and they'd leave, barely saying anything to each 
other in the process.
	"The statue is coming along nicely, right Daika?" Ryoko asked as 
they crossed through the park, the same park where they had first met 
over three months ago. She received no answer immediately. It was 
something that was typical of Daika. She looked to him, only to find 
him standing still. His eyes were closed shut and his face bore a 
melancholy expression. Again, Ryoko pressed her question.
	"Yesterday's dreams." He responded solemnly. Before Ryoko could 
ask what he meant, they back en route to home. To Ryoko, it was just 
another bit of this artist's eccentricity. 
	In fact, she'd noticed a lot of odd things about him. His 
movements were bizarre, to start. When he walked, it was with feminine 
poise and grace. Always, he walked with one foot placed directly in 
front of the other, as if balancing upon some un-seeable line. His 
hands were always directly down and flat against his hips. And though 
his walk was uniform and perfected, his paths were listless and 
meandering. No direction held his interest for any period of time. And 
when he'd wander like that he'd begin speaking in riddles, spouting out 
profound but bewildering statements as they came to him. It was as if 
he saw things she didn't. All in all, it was just another mysterious 
facet of her bizarre benefactor.
	Almost as bizarre was the black cloak he always wore when they 
went out walking. It had a high collar that came up nearly to his pale 
cheeks, long sleeves that passed beyond his delicate fingers, and 
reached all the way down to half-past his knees. It gave him an 
undeniably haunting appearance. And the way it flapped and swayed in 
the slightest breeze only added to the illusion that he was some sort 
of specter from beyond the grave. Oddly enough, the back of his cloak 
never moved an inch while he was wearing it. As if something were 
supporting it from underneath.
	
"I should apologize to you." Daika said softly as they walked up 
the steps to his apartment. They'd just purchased at least a month's 
worth of food, partially due to the fact that Ryoko was becoming highly 
in demand as a model and partially due to the fact that one of Daika's 
paintings had sold recently. It was enough to put Ryoko in very high 
spirits.
	"What for?" Ryoko asked blithely, hoisting a bag of tomatoes onto 
her shoulder to unlock the door. "If it's about the shopping, I know 
the way the money is around here." Daika shook his head and stepped 
into the parlor. He let the shopping bags drop onto the floor as he 
sank into his chair.
	"No, I'm afraid it is a bit more serious than that." He said, 
frowning gently. Ryoko could see his lips trying to form words that 
simply wouldn't come to him. 
"Daika, it's okay." She said. "I'm sure it was nothing too bad." 
Again, the artist shook his head, this time more violently. Ryoko 
reached out to touch his shoulder. She gasped as she saw a dark haze 
forming around his back. "What the.?" She uttered. 
Daika cried out in shock. He jumped to his feet. 
	"Stay away, Ryoko." He told her. His eyes were wide with fear.
	"Daika, what's happening?" Again, she reached towards him. He 
backed away from her, covering his face.
	"Don't look at me, just stay away!" He cried out timidly. The 
artist dashed to his room. The slam of the door and the click of the 
lock were all Ryoko heard as she watched him. 
	She paused to look at the chair. Almost unwittingly, she picked 
up the long, fine black feather that was left upon it.

	Sakuya had not seen the man in black for nearly three weeks, but 
his visit still haunted her. His eerie presence had sent shivers down 
her spine. What his purpose was she couldn't say. All she had was his 
message and his chilling promise that she would see him again.
	It frightened her to no end to think that.

	"Tenchi?" she asked him from her perch atop his bed. She caught 
his smile as he looked over his shoulder at her. 
	"Yes?" he said. His pencil never stopped moving as he continued 
with his term papers. 
	"Do you remember a few weeks ago? When we were walking through 
the park."
	Tenchi noticed her hesitance. He closed his book and turned in 
his chair to face her. His heart still fluttered every time he looked 
at her. He couldn't help but think she was pretty, and sweet, and kind.
	"Tenchi." Sakuya continued. "That day, in the park, I told you 
I'd seen a ghost." 
	"Yeah. What about it?" he asked concernedly. 
	"Well, I saw him again, later that day." The girl shuddered 
before saying anything more. "Except, he wasn't a ghost. At least, I 
don't think so. You see I bumped into him."
	"I didn't think it worked that way with ghosts." Tenchi said, 
trying not to laugh. 
	"Well, it did with this one. He stopped time all around the two 
of us and told me that I should remember this phrase; I'm looking at 
myself, reflections of my mind. It's just the kind of day to leave 
myself behind."
	"Did he say anything else?"
	"Only that I'd see him again. After that, he gave me this note 
and I appeared in my apartment."
	Tenchi looked long and hard at the note she'd handed him. 
'Investigate reality' was scrawled upon it in jagged black letters. The 
note itself was written on a piece of white silk, about the size of a 
lady's handkerchief. It seemed very odd, at least to him. 
	"So, what are you going to do?" Tenchi asked her, handing her 
back the note. She leaned towards him. Her eyes, as if pleading to him, 
focused upon his face while a fearful quiver played havoc with her 
loving smile.
	"Tenchi, would you help me look at myself?" she whispered. 
	"What?" 
	"I mean, I don't know anything about myself so I want you help me 
find out about myself."
	Tenchi sighed and pulled his laptop out of his desk. His hands 
brushed a space clear for it on the crowded desktop. If something had 
Sakuya this worried then he knew he should help her in any way he 
could. The laptop hummed to life as he plugged it into the phone jack. 
Sakuya hopped down from her perch on his bed and leaned over his 
shoulder.
	"What do you want to know about yourself?" Tenchi asked her. 
	"Who my family is." Her answer came instantly. "I want to know 
about my family." 
	With a few clicks of the keyboard, Tenchi and Sakuya made their 
way into the city records database. Sakuya waited with baited breath as 
Tenchi entered her last name into the search engine.
	"That's odd." Tenchi said. He hit the backspace a few times and 
quickly re-entered her name.
	"What's wrong, Tenchi?" Sakuya asked. She leaned over closer. 
Tenchi tried to block the screen with his hand. But it was too late to 
try. She already knew.
	"How can that be?" she asked, stunned into meek, sorrowful 
silence. Tenchi hugged her close, brushing her back with his hand. Even 
still, he felt her warm tears falling down her flushed cheeks. 
	"Don't worry about it." He said, trying to comfort her. "It's 
probably a system glitch."
	"There's no way that there is no record of anyone by the name of 
'Kumashiro' in all of Tokyo."      

	A feather, long, black and soft, was what Daika had left behind 
in his rush to his door. Ryoko sat, idly toying with the feather, in 
wait for the artist to re-emerge from his room. Were his actions 
anymore odd today then they had been any day before? Not really. But he 
seemed so frightened, so much like a little boy, that it worried her.
	"What's on your mind, Little Ryoko?" a familiar voice rang in her 
head.
	"Washu? You're close, huh?" She retorted in thought. 
	"No. I simply amplified my brainwaves to reach out to you. Really 
nothing too complicated."
	"Whatever you say. What do you want?"
	"Why so mean? Can't a mother have concern for her precious 
daughter?"
	"I don't know in your case."
	"You're impossible."
	"You built me that way." Ryoko stood up to get a drink from the 
kitchen. Even though she knew it wouldn't help evade the conversation.
	"So. Where are you staying?" Washu asked.
	"With somebody. An artist."
	"Really? How good is he?"
	"I don't know." She looked at the locked bedroom door. "We aren't 
close."
	"Oh. So it's not just for the sex."
	"Mom!"
	"Only kidding. So, who is he?"
	Ryoko stopped for a minute. A wry grin formed at the corners of 
her lips.
	"He says he isn't qualified to say who he is." She answered 
slowly. "But his name is Daika, Daika Tomei." 
	Almost instantly, Ryoko felt her mother's presence leave her. 

	Ryoko's attention returned to Daika's bedroom door. She wanted to 
help him through whatever troubled him now. It was part of the debt she 
owed him.
	"A turn of the doorknob, that would be all it would take to enter 
his room." Ryoko thought as she stood outside of Daika's room. She 
pressed her ear against the door. Though muffled, she could hear one 
distinct, pained sound.
	Someone was crying in that room.
	Without hesitating, Ryoko flung open the door to Daika's room. 
She rushed in; nearly knocking over one of the multitudes of lit 
candles lighting the darkened space where Daika was kneeling. He didn't 
stir as she ran towards him; merely cast a pained look to her, telling 
her exactly why he'd hid. The reason was quite clear. In fact two, 
reasons both large, black and quivering with every choked sob.
	"Wings." She murmured as Daika rose to his feet. 

Washu's blood had run cold at the words her daughter had spoken. 
It wasn't the first time she'd heard that phrase. How long had it been, 
though? Twelve thousand years? Thirteen? How long?
	"I can't believe she'd send him here to deal with this. Not him." 
Washu began walking out of her lab, then running. She ran out of the 
lab, out of the house. Smiling images of boys at their mother's side 
flashed through her mind. Tenchi, her own son, and a black-haired youth 
from long before either of them all came to her. A black-haired boy, 
precocious, and sad, whose mother. Washu ran on. Ran past the painful 
memory of that long-ago time. That time with that little boy who she'd 
loved so dearly, that little boy who loved to watch his mother create 
and yearned for the day when he'd do the same. The memory of that same 
frightened little boy, the one whose mother gave him an awesome task 
that he could never come to terms with, soon was replaced the memory of 
him. Him; a young man, beautiful and filled with regret for everything 
he'd done. Now he had a new task, but what? Why this plain? What was 
Tsunami thinking? 
She ran until she couldn't run anywhere else. The small woman 
fell to her feet at Funaho's base. Her tear-stained face glared up at 
the sky. She could almost see the hazy silhouette of a slender young 
man.
	"Dichotomy!" She yelled "Nephew!"



Author's notes: I know that was short, but each part is only so much. 
Besides, there was a lot in here. In any case, I hope you enjoyed it. 
Chapter 3 will be quick in coming I can promise you that. Just send any 
comments my way, all right? Good then. As always.
Tallgeese Forever!
Craeyst Raygal.