Credits: Tenchi Muyo!/No Need For Tenchi is a product of Pioneer/AIC. As such, I’m getting no compensation for writing this fiction other than my own enjoyment, because the thought of getting sued is rather unpleasant. Mr. Long T. Tran for his “Tenchi Muyo: Ryoko’s Love Prologue” story line, parts one, two, and three, and the characters created therein. His fiction can be found at GenSao’s excellent Tenchi Muyo Fan Fiction Page: http://members.xoom.com/gensao/ Mr. Brett “Darkwind” Handy for his fan-fiction writing style influence. His “Ah-My Goddess!” spin-offs are great reading, and can be found at http://www.starvision.net/anime/ Disclaimer: All characters *I* have created are purely a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is pure coincidence. Anyone who thinks otherwise is probably just itching for a fight. Also, please do not try and distribute this story in some lame attempt to make a buck; it would be bad karma to say the least. Tenchi Muyo! “No Need For Sasami” A Fan-Fiction by Michael McAvoy "A dream is an answer to a question we haven't learned to ask." -- FBI Special Agent Dana Scully -* Chapter One *- ‘Imagine,’ a ghostly voice echoed in the vast expanse of darkness. In a cavernous underworld, the air was heavy, but not quite stagnate. Pushed by the small and oily waves of a huge subterranean cauldron of poisonous water, the air was circulated enough to offer some deadly whisper of a breeze for those unfortunates who might be alive in such a place. Reaching up from the edges of the water were monstrously tall walls of rock, enclosing the putrid air and water while supporting unfathomable amounts of stone above with a massive dome in whatever dimension this place existed in. Though inky black with darkness, a silver sheen managed to gloss the crest of each of the small and thickly moving waves, giving each a metallic luster like a finely polished piece of hematite. Without the motion of the slow waves, however, there was no other sense of up or down, left or right. There was only darkness and the heavy, humid air. Drifting along the near stagnate air currents in the underworld for what might seem a maddening eternity, there was a place in the massive cavern where light did exist. In what was the center of the oily lake came a pale green luminance, adding very little as a light source and existing more as another sheen to the waves than anything else. ‘Imagine,’ the disembodied voice repeated out across the waters. Closing in on the direction of the disconcerting green glow, a small island with steep shores could just be made out. On the island was a massive tree, shrouded in darkness. Well formed and thick with leaves, the tree’s limbs and branches stretched out over the water, arching down almost to the water’s surface, but never touching. It was as if the tree sensed the poisonous nature of the liquid, and did well to stay free of it. The tree, however, did not present any reassurance of hope or life from its presence in the blackness. Since the only hint of light came from the disturbing glow off its bark, it was unthinkable that any kind of normal tree could live and thrive in such absence of light. But then again, this was not a normal tree. A presence stirred at the base of its massive trunk, crouched in dark shadow with its back resting against the tree and its arms wrapped around its knees. A pair of dark red eyes peered out through the blackness through half closed lids, watching the emptiness warily as if scanning for the source of the voice. It was a voice that had echoed since the being could first remember coming into contact with this place. A voice with no face, but with a name. “Yuzuha,” the crouched being whispered in an even voice, “do you realize how much time has passed since the violation of this place?” There was no answer to the question except the sloppy lap of water against the sides of the tiny island. The creature closed its eyes and took in a deep breath of the thick air, savoring the taste. “It is almost time, Yuzuha,” it said in a quiet voice, expelling air slowly. “Events are gathering quickly now, and soon they will develop in a flurry of activity to define a moment. That moment will be mine, Yuzuha. It will be mine in such a way as you could never achieve.” ‘Imagine,’ echoed the voice a third time, ‘the Darkness in love with the Light.’ A thin smile came from the creature in the shadows. “Ah, my Yuzuha,” it said, “but this time there will *be* no love for the Light. In spite of your weakness, my gift to your memory will be the destruction of those who tormented you so. The Tree of Light shall fall to the Tree of Darkness.” ‘Imagine…’ Yuzuha’s voice whispered sadly. * * * There comes a point in the quiet hours of the late night where will power is forsaken, shear determination is for naught, and the only device left in one’s arsenal is to lay stretched out, staring up at the ceiling. At these times the acceptance of insomnia, while not necessarily as relieving as drifting off into slumber, is a considerable improvement from the tossing and turning, balling of sheets with fists, or even half hearted attempts at auto-asphyxiation with a pillow. To lay in bed, eyes sleepily peeled open, and stare at small knots in the wood grain of the ceiling, when compared to the previous six creeping hours of hopeless thrashing, is something of a small gift. “Two hundred seventy-two. Two hundred seventy-three. Two hundred seventy…” Closing her eyes tightly, Sasami erupted a yawn, breaking her audit of the flaws in the ceiling. It was a half-hearted, uncontrollable yawn and brought her no closer to the promise of sleep than the several hundred before that. Sasami dragged one of her hands across her futon to her face and slowly began to massage her jaw; the muscles there, unaccustomed to so much work, were quite sore. Sliding her hand up from her jaw line, it came to rest over her eyes, and laid there for a few moments before sliding back out beside her to rest again on the futon. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. It took her several minutes to process the realization: “I’ve lost count again,” she mumbled without emotion for the fourth time in the past hour. A pain slowly had been asserting itself across her chest from her stomach for at least as long as the last time she had rolled over and looked at her clock on the dresser, and *that* had been only after the first time Sasami had lost count with the ceiling. To preserve her sanity, she had vowed not to watch the second hand tick by for the rest of the night. Sasami considered the ceiling again. As far as ceilings went, it wasn’t a particularly interesting one. There were no murals, no fancy molding, not even a giant mirror that one might find in a palace or even a nice intergalactic hotel. It was a nice ceiling, though, with a warm and friendly color despite its lack of grandeur. She rolled over with a small grunt, exhaling slowly, hoping her futon would swallow her. No matter how comforting the ceiling might normally be, it had defeated all evening, and now was a good time as any to accept that defeat. After another twenty minutes or so had passed, it occurred to Sasami that the dull ache in her lower chest was due to the affects of hunger. Up till now, she had maintained a somewhat dignified acceptance of the loss of her battle with insomnia and was quite prepared to lay awake and unmoving until sunrise, if not beyond. The inevitable growling of her stomach seemed like a cruel and unnecessary blow sent to mock her already numbed body, and in a pitiful tone, Sasami opened one eye and moaned. “Oh, forget it. It’s pointless,” she rationalized to herself. Gathering what remaining strength she possessed, Sasami rolled herself back onto her side and gazed at the face of her little analog clock. Five thirty-seven. In another thirty minutes or so, the sun would be coming up. “I might as well take care of something I *can* deal with,” she muttered, rubbing her stomach as she rolled off her futon and padded towards the door. Stopping to look back, Sasami observed a small, furry ball with long ears twitch slightly and stretch, before settling back down in the futon covers with a small ‘miya’ of content. For one brief flash of an instant, Sasami felt a surge of annoyance at Ryo-ohki’s ability to sleep pleasantly all evening, but squelched the emotions quickly before she became too ashamed with herself. Sasami continued to quietly make her way down the hallway and down the stairs to the kitchen; just because she was awake and tired, there was no reason to disturb anyone else this morning. Sliding up to the refrigerator, she opened up the door and blinked owlishly in the relatively bright light emanating from somewhere back behind the milk. Reaching in, she grabbed a carton of orange juice and closed the door. In a typical morning haze experienced by billions of people every day, she made her was back across the kitchen floor to a cabinet and, stretching up on her toes, pulled a small glass down. “Uuuhhhhh…” or some noise equivalent passed her lips as the thought of making breakfast, fiddling with ovens, and clanging pots around presented itself. Instead, Sasami walked over to the counter, grabbed two bananas sitting there, and walked through the kitchen door outside onto a small porch. Stepping down from the porch into the yard, her brain registered a somewhat pleased response at the soft wetness of the dew covered grass and the warm feel of the air on her exposed arms. With an almost vacant determination, she headed off towards the lake that the house faced, making her way for a small dock that extended out into the water. Above her the sky was a scene of retreating stars and fading dark blue colors being chased by a relentless soft pink and orange, speckled here and there with high, thin wisps of clouds. In the face of the beautiful tranquillity playing out above her, Sasami steadfastly ignored the sky and achieved her destination at the end of the small dock. After sitting down with a rather undignified plop and an “Umph!”, she poured a glass of juice from the carton, set the carton and glass aside, and began to denude a hapless banana. Taking a first small bite, Sasami slowly chewed the piece of banana and gazed at the water, which was quietly lapping at the dock pilings. Sticking the banana in her mouth, she rolled up the pajama leggings of her left leg, and then her right leg. Satisfied that they would not come falling down, she removed the banana from her mouth and slowly eased her feet over the dock into the water. She winced at first from the shock; it was the middle of summer here on this part of the Earth, but the water was still cool enough to elicit a few goose bumps on her arms. Still slowly attacking her first banana, Sasami leaned forward and watched herself make small ripples in the water with her feet. It took a few minutes before her reflection became visible to her. The sky at first had still been mostly darkness dotted by stars, but eventually enough light from the morning dawn filtered into the sky to light up her section of the lake, even though the sun had yet to make its appearance. Sasami, still chewing in a slow and almost unhappy manner, studied the image reflected in ripples. A young woman who looked to be in her early twenties stared back in the reflection, her eyes still half-closed and sleepy hiding soft lavender colored orbs with several freckles highlighting her cheeks. Further up, two curious marks on her forehead scrunched up in thoughtfulness, leading to numerous whips of soft blue hair that had somehow strayed from the wrap holding the rest of her mane back. Noticing the general lack of usefulness the wrap was providing her hair after tossing and turning all night, Sasami took one hand back and slowly undid it. A flourishing mass of hair tumbled down past her shoulders all the way down to the dock where she was sitting. She didn’t take much notice of this as she continued to stare into the eyes of the reflection in the lake. As the light in the sky slowly continued to strengthen in the east, an increasing melancholy appeared in her facial features. Finishing off her first banana, Sasami took a deep breath and let out an audible sigh. Her reflection sighed back. “Happy birthday to me,” she mumbled unhappily, and proceeded to maul her second banana. * * * There are certain things in life that, arguably, you are better off not knowing about. Unfortunately, growing up has a way of forcing you to know these things you would much rather enjoy avoiding. I believe it started in childhood for me; life was pretty much a beautiful garden, happy and without much concern for anything in particular. I had a comfortable room, with a comfortable bed, and the first of a number of sidekick stuffed animals to keep me company. Outside of my room wasn’t much different – there was my mother and father, who, while somewhat on the serious side, provided various external comforts, and my older brother by ten years who didn’t really make much sense, but was nonetheless part of that comfort zone. At any rate, life wasn’t to shabby until I learned how to ride a bike at the age of five. Showing a fairly adept skill at bike riding, and soon having the cursed training wheels removed, it seemed only natural (to my father anyway) to let me have a go at an off road motorcycle two weeks before my sixth birthday. The motorbike was a tiny Honda Z50, which my brother had outgrown a couple years previously, that compared to me was a giant. For the first year, I relied on someone larger than me to kick start the engine, lean the bike up against a tree, and let me climb myself on. Once seated with my helmet, I would pop the little three speed clutch into gear and tear off into the backyard and surrounding neighborhood. For a good five or six months, I was both the terror and the envy of the neighborhood, depending on who you asked. The few kids my age around my house wanted nothing more than to hitch rides behind me, while various mothers on more than one occasion dropped by the house to ask my father to prohibit me from zipping about on such an obviously dangerous machine. What kind of father, a serious engineer and an obviously sensible and practical man, would allow his six year old to thunder about on a motorcycle obviously too large for the driver? Well, apparently mine, since he never made me stop, so long as I never tore up anyone else’s yard, his lawn, or my mother’s garden. Anyhow, all was blissful with that bike until, while admittedly showing off to some neighborhood kids, I lost control of the bike, accidentally throttled it to full speed, and smacked into the side of a brick wall, giving myself a bloody lip and a banged noggin, despite the helmet. This was my first real indication that I was not so indestructible as I had previously thought in my six short years of life. Suddenly, an awful realization that life could be quite painful had dawned upon me, leaving me none too happy at first. Regardless, it was an important life lesson that a) smacking into brick walls at twenty miles per hour hurts, and that b) learning to avoid or deal with the pain of smacking into brick walls at twenty miles per hour is probably a good thing to remember. So, my innocence was lost. The world got bigger and a little more uncertain, and just a bit more uncomfortable – not unlike the sensation I was getting standing in a huge line inside a Tokyo international air terminal, waiting to have my passport examined by an efficient looking Japanese official. I say efficient looking, because the line was not going anywhere, whatsoever. After an incredibly long flight out of San Francisco, with an overnight stop in Hawaii, I and the rest of my airline compadres were in less than top condition to be standing for another hour or two waiting to enter the country. However, the official had her job to do, and she was doing it thoroughly. So, I did not see much reason to even bother complaining to myself about it, though I did grumble a bit as a muscle in my back let its existence be known to me. “Definitely,” I thought, “long lines in airport terminals are something I really don’t need to know about.” I got bumped from behind by a tired and apologetic woman. “I’m sure this falls under the ‘It builds character’ clause,” I muttered to myself. Though several years of after work, spare time study had left me with what I felt was a fairly good verbal command of the Japanese language, nevertheless, I decided to stick to the line for English speaking peoples to ensure that I did not say anything that got misunderstood before I had even barely stepped into the country. Eventually, my turn in line came up, and I passed my passport to the tireless looking official. She opened up the passport, looked at the picture, looked at me, and then looked at the picture again. Very short light brown hair, brown eyes, and small glasses supported on a six foot one, one hundred and ninety pound in-shape frame. If someone asked me to honestly describe my appearance, I would likely say passingly handsome in a rather non-descript sort of way and probably get “boo-hooed” for being too self-effacing. Jeans and hiking boots would be my regular comfort clothes, even though a number of years as an engineer had left me very familiar with how to look more than presentable in a suit. They just felt more relaxed and easy going, which were two of my cannons of life. “Nathaniel Swann?” the airport official piped up in English that sounded probably better than mine. “That’s right,” I stated, looking up from a few other papers I was juggling in my hands. “Are you here on business, and how long do you plan to be staying in Japan?” “No, I’m here site seeing, and I plan on being in Japan for three or four weeks, I suppose.” I did not have any real plans as far as time went. I have always felt it is best to have more general and non-specific plans for the future, leaving the picky details for the near present. Of course, I suppose I had the luxury of having that philosophy. Having graduated from college as a petroleum engineer at twenty-two, I went straight away into the refining industry for several years for a large American petroluem company. For four years I worked away with a fair amount of success, until I had a small epiphany about how to change part of a petrol cracking process to make it a little more efficient. Almost on a lark, I patented my idea, wrote a small article in an industry journal about it, and sudden was offered several million dollars by a large Australian based oil company for the rights, plus a small royalty fee. That little gain in efficiency of cracking oil, when its effects were distributed over many years of a refrinery’s life, meant savings for that company of hundreds of millions of dollars, so I guess they got a bargain. Not long after the deal was done, and not really needing to work as much to support myself, I got an itch to see some of the world, particularly Japan. Being suddenly independently wealthy, I no longer had to worry about where my career was going to be in a few years, and I could simply drop everything to follow that itch. All this, and I was now twenty-eight, standing in a Tokyo airport doing my best to convince this woman that I was mostly harmless. I guess she believed me, because after a few more questions, she let me pass out of the international terminal without as much fuss as most people were having to endure. Being able to drop everything and just head off to a foreign country for a vacation doesn’t mean that I do things haphazardly. Despite my ability to speak Japanese, which I was now rapidly downgrading from “fairly good” to “just barely”, I had no illusions of being able to read Japanese very well. To this day, give me a newspaper, and there’s a fifty-fifty shot I still will have problems reading the headline. As a result, I had a series of very detailed maps of Tokyo and surrounding prefectures listing all sorts of services, sites, and locales in English with their kanji equivalents written underneath. It had taken a while, and a bit of cash, to get all these maps for myself, but I figured walking around with half a clue as to where I was going was certainly better than blind wandering. My first destination was someplace to sleep. I had never really experienced jet lag before, but as the sun was coming up outside of the airport, I definitely felt like I should be falling asleep, and quickly. Retrieving my luggage, and shouldering my internal frame backpack, I wandered off to the nearby train station, heading for a stop that would put me off somewhere with lots of nice, comfortable places to sleep. * * * Something heavy and soft was covering Sasami’s face, threatening to suffocate her. Finding herself unable to see and getting difficult to breath, she started to panic and squirm about. “Would you *please* be still for just another moment?” a familiar but exasperated voice toned. “Honestly, Sasami, how do you expect to get to the end of this day if you can’t even get your dress on?” With a final tug and last ditch squirm, Sasami’s head popped into daylight with a completely bewildered expression. It took her a moment to register her surroundings, but she quickly recognized them as the royal Jurai palace, specifically an anteroom to the main hall. Look straight ahead of her, Sasami saw her reflection in a huge crystal mirror. She gasped. Empress Ayeka of Jurai looked up from her work on a hem line to Sasami’s dress and smiled thinly. “Yes, it *is* beautiful isn’t it, Sasami? Though as far as this hem line goes, the dress makers made a total shambles out of it. Remind me after the wedding, and I’ll be sure to have them properly disciplined for such shoddy work.” Pulling a bit of thread from the dress, Ayeka deftly snipped it off with a pair of scissors and absently tossed it to the floor. Her jaw still drooped open slightly, Sasami was simply stunned by the gorgeous dress she was wearing. Snow white, with shades of blue and green that literally shimmered as she moved, the dress seemed to radiate outward in splendor while at the same time drawing attention to the beautiful nature of Sasami’s face and figure. Her sister’s words finally made way into her understanding. “W-w-wedding?” Sasami stammered, looking down. Suddenly she realized part of her uneasiness was do to the fact she was standing on a narrow stool, a good deal higher than Ayeka’s head. Vertigo quickly asserted itself, and Sasami began to topple slightly as her knees became weak. “Sasami!” Ayeka exclaimed, partly from concern and from annoyance. “Please try to remain upright! You are a princess, and princesses do *not* get weak in the knees.” “W-w-wedding?” “You are uncharacteristically coherent this morning, I see. Yes, a wedding. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten you are getting married in a few minutes?” Ayeka looked at her sister speculatively. “Close your mouth, dear. It’s not fitting for a princess to gape.” Sasami’s mouth closed shut with a snap. Spinning her eyes about the room, she took brief notice of the ceremonial guards near the door and the familiar furniture of the anteroom she had been in countless times before. “I’m not hallucinating,” she thought to herself. “I’m really here wearing this dress. My goodness, it’s lovely!” She used her hands to carefully spread the train out a bit, turning slightly to see the back. Sasami then froze absolutely still with fright. Turning her neck as if it were made from rusty joints, she bent down and grabbed her sister by the shoulders. “Sasami!” Ayeka exclaimed. “Just what do you think you’re –“ “Oneesama!! What am I doing here??” Sasami’s breath was coming in shallow, ragged huffs. “Who am I marrying?!” Ayeka sighed with a small smile on her lips. “Why, Sasami, that’s what we’re here to find out!” Two final snips of her scissors flashed across the hem, and Ayeka leaned away with satisfaction. “That should be just perfect. Come along now, Sasami. It’s time to go find your husband.” The two royal guards materialized beside Sasami and gallantly offered hands to help the completely bemused princess down off her perch. Succeeding, the guards handed Sasami over to Ayeka, and stately walked over to the set of doors that led into the main audience hall. “B-but, what is going on?!” Sasami stuttered again, feeling herself being lead by her sister towards the doors, completely unable to will her body to do anything but follow. As her sister smiled with satisfaction, Sasami heard someone with a deep voice make a loud proclamation from inside the hall. “May it please my Lords and Ladies of the Court!” the man bellowed. “Her Majesty, the Empress Ayeka of Jurai, and her sister, Princess Sasami!” Under brilliant lighting focused on her and Ayeka, Sasami was lead up a dais and gently, but firmly, forced into a chair beside the royal thrones. With as much dread as she had ever felt, Sasami opened her eyes slowly and took stock of her surroundings. Below her were several hundred lords and ladies of the Juraian nobility. Still dumb struck, she did notice something odd about the nobles closest to her. They were all young males about her age. Sasami’s jaw dropped again in horror. She turned to her sister. “I’m marrying all of them?” she gaped. Ayeka sighed. “No, of course you are not marrying all of them. You only get to marry one of them.” The empress peered disapprovingly at Sasami. “For a princess about to choose her husband from the finest young nobility of Jurai, you aren’t acting very dignified.” Sasami’s mind was in a total whirl. ‘I’m getting married? This *has* to be a joke,’ she said to herself. Spinning her head rapidly back and forth to scan the young nobles, she recognized only a few, and those she only knew in passing. She whipped back around to face Ayeka. “Which one do I choose?!” “Why, Sasami,” Ayeka said sweetly, “you know it doesn’t matter to me as long as it’s one of these Juraian lords.” Her tone turned ever so slightly ominous, “Anyone else simply *won’t* do, of course. Hurry now, dear sister, you have only two minutes to decide.” “TWO MINUTES?! B-b-but… I mean… whom?!” For the first time, Sasami noticed someone from the throne beside Ayeka’s lean forward and speak. “Now, now Ayeka,” chided Shoji, Ayeka’s husband, “this is a big decision, so don’t put any more pressure on her.” Shoji looked towards Sasami and said, “Go ahead, Princess. Just pick one that looks appealing to you.” “One minute, thirty seconds,” came Ayeka’s emotionless countdown. “But I don’t *want* to get married!” Sasami desperately yelled, all the while getting more agitated. “Sasami-chan,” a voice from her right spoke. “Tenchi-niichan?! TENCHI-NIICHAN!” cried Sasami, flinging herself into his arms. “You’ve got to help me get out of here! I don’t know what is going on, and everyone is telling me I have to choose a husband in the next two minutes!” “One minute left, actually,” Ayeka commented offhandedly. “I’m sorry Sasami-chan,” said Tenchi somewhat sadly, “but you must pick one of these men to marry.” Sasami stopped wiping her eyes in disbelief. “Tenchi,” she whispered. Disengaging herself from Tenchi, she stepped back towards her chair, her mind finally starting to work again. ‘All right,’ she thought furiously, ‘there has to be a way out of this….. what’s going on?’ She looked up again. ‘Ayeka’s trying to marry me off like some cattle –‘ “Thirty seconds.” ‘—which isn’t *that* surprising.’ ‘But… Tenchi-niichan is *helping* her! That can’t be right! Tenchi would never do something that made me unhappy!’ “Time’s up, Sasami,” said Ayeka brightly. Gesturing to the young nobles, she asked, “Which one of them do you want to marry?” Sasami raised up steadily from her chair and wiped her eyes. Throwing a defiant look at her sister, she said, “None of them. I will be marrying no one in this or any other room.” A shocked gasped came up from the audience, with many of the young suitors growing angry expressions on their faces. The empress gazed at her sister for a few moments, drumming her fingers quietly on the arm of her throne before speaking. “So be it, Sasami,” sighed Ayeka. “We warned you what the consequence would be if you failed to accept a marriage.” Turning to Tenchi she asked, “Lord Tenchi? Please bring an end to this.” Whirling back around to face him, Sasami saw Tenchi pull out his sword, Tenchi-ken, and rap the hilt against the floor twice. Tenchi stood up straight, sighed, finally looked at Sasami. “I’m sorry, Sasami-chan,” said Tenchi softly. His eyes then hardened, “but it would have been *better* if you had just gone along quietly.” “What do you mean, gone along – uuulp!!!” quailed Sasami. Without warning, the floor beneath her feet had gone soft and hot and was slowly pulling her down. The train of her wedding dress ballooned out like a flower blossom as she sank lower. “Tenchi-niichan! Please, stop!” she cried, frantically trying to wade in the liquefying floor around her. Tenchi turned his head impassively and began to study some art hanging on a far wall. Sasami floundered towards her sister. “Oneesama! Please, help me! ONEESAMA!” she wailed again, as the liquid floor engulfed her shoulders. “It’s far too late for that now, Sasami,” Ayeka grinned maliciously. “No one refuses a marriage that *I* arrange.” “Nooooooo!” screamed Sasami, just before she sank beneath the floor into blackness. Across the great royal hall, there was not a whisper of noise anywhere. Ayeka paused for a moment and looked thoughtfully at the space where her sister had just disappeared. Straightening her royal garb ever so delicately, she asked sweetly to no one in particular, “Well, now…. more tea, anyone?” * * * It was hot. It was also very dark as Sasami curled herself up into a tiny ball in the blackness and wept bitterly. ‘How could anyone do this to me?’ she cried to herself. It was impossible to think that Ayeka, even as calculating as she was, could do something this horrible to her. There was no noise at all, wherever she was. No motion, no time… nothing to indicate movement of any sort – and it was getting hotter. Sasami could hardly feel her own body, either. She pulled her knees closer and tighter to her chest. ‘And what about Tenchi,’ part of her mind asked pointedly. ‘How could *he* refuse to defend you in your time of need?’ Despair truly sank into Sasami’s soul at this point, and she fervently wished for her existence to cease. “Sasami?” A voice. Sasami leaped out of her depression and twisted about in all directions, looking for the source of the voice. “Who are you? *Where* are you,” she cried out, her voice suddenly seeming strangely slurred. “I can’t see you! I can’t see ANYTHING!!” Panic and fear threatened to overwhelm her again. “Sasami?” the voice inquired again. “Sasami. Wake up. Open your eyes, silly.” Sasami swallowed and did as the voice commanded. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes just a bit…. and quickly slammed them shut again in pain. “Ow-ow-ow!” exclaimed the princess. She quickly drew both hands up to her face and covered her eyes. Below her, Sasami heard wave ripples gently lapping against the dock, and above her the voice gave a warm chuckle. “Sun is fairly bright this morning, eh, Sasami?” the voice laughed. Steeling herself against the bright light, Sasami once again peered through her eyelids and tried to focus on the person standing above her. At first, everything was still a bright blur, but with some slow eye rubbing, her sight finally cleared well enough to identify who was looking down at her. “Good morning, kiddo,” beamed the yellow eyed woman. “Were you sleepwalking this morning, or did your legs fail you on the way to a morning swim?” Sasami blinked. “Ryoko-oneechan?” “Aaah! Who else could look so good this early in the morning,” Ryoko stated matter-of-factly, sporting an impish grin. “You don’t look so hot, kiddo. Maybe you should get inside before the sun gets any higher.” Ryoko leaned in close to Sasami’s face. “Yes, definitely inside with you. Your cheeks are a little red from what sun you’ve gotten already this morning.” Sasami sat up and touched her cheeks. There was a small itching sensation there, for certain. If she stayed out in the sun any longer today, it promised to develop into something more painful. “W-what time is it?” “Almost eleven o’clock,” Ryoko said, glancing at her digital watch. “You’re lucky I bothered to come by this way, or you might have slept right through lunch.” Sasami only nodded glumly as Ryoko eyed the princess speculatively. “You haven’t been sleeping very well the past few nights.” It was a statement, not a question. Sasami looked up quickly wondering how Ryoko knew. Ryoko smiled down at her, while tapping her temple lightly. “My mental link with Ryo-ohki, remember? She’s been observing your insomnia these past few nights and passed it along to me.” Sasami only bobbed her head up and down again in agreement, Ryoko gave her yet another appraising look. “Tell you what, Sasami,” she said, taking charge of the princess, “you pick yourself up, go inside right now, and get cleaned up. If you want, we can talk about whatever is bothering you later after lunch.” Ryoko stretched her arms up above her head and yawned. Bringing them down again, she said, “In the meantime, I think I’ll go sneak up on my husband. I’ve missed a lot of him in the past thirteen years, so I need to make up for lost time.” Ryoko smiled at the princess. “By the way,” she grinned, her body levitating off the dock, “unless you *want* your hair to smell like this lake, I’d get it out of the water!” With a slight hum and a shimmer in the air around her body, Ryoko phased out of view. Sasami watched as Ryoko winked out of sight, and blinked a few times in puzzlement at her last statement. Reaching behind her back, Sasami felt for her long hair and encountered a very wet, stringy mess that had a distinctly fishy odor. “Oh, maaaaaaan……” she whined. * * * On any given weekend, Ryoko could always guess with a great deal of certainty where her husband might be. Allowing for the occasional incident that might send him off in a galactic starship from time to time, it was a good bet Tenchi Masaki could be found tending the Masaki family shrine with his grandfather, practicing his Jurai sword kata in the woods, or tending the vegetable fields near the house. Phasing out from the lake dock, leaving Sasami to herself, Ryoko headed over to the fields first, materializing in the center of an immense carrot patch. Of all the things that had changed in the past thirteen years since Ryoko’s death, Ryo-ohki’s appetite was not one of them. Ryoko touched down just long enough to scan the fields for Tenchi. Pushing lightly off the soil, she lifted several feet off the ground before winking out of sight again. Phasing in and out of sight while sailing up the immense flight of stairs that led to the family shrine, it occurred to Ryoko that she had never once walked these steps all the way up or down without taking flight at some point. The novelty of this notion so appealed to her that, halfway up the steps, she dropped gently to the ground and began to leisurely climb the steps. Despite the fact that the temperature had been warming steadily all morning long, most of the steps were shaded by very old trees, whose outspread branches and thick leaves reached out and touched each other in regular intervals. Ryoko caught herself starting to whistle some bawdy intergalactic saloon song. ‘Now *that’s* interesting,’ Ryoko told herself. ‘Not only do I almost never walk to get anywhere, I am fairly certain I *never* whistle.’ Ryoko smiled to herself, wondering if this softness that had started with meeting Tenchi twenty years ago was cronic and likely to last the rest of her life. That last thought ebbed her smile a bit. The nature of her life and death bothered her immensely, as did the effect it had on her close family and friends, especially her husband and daughter. Not only had Tenchi and their daughter, Yui, had to mourn the loss of Ryoko for years, but they had also had to adjust to the awesome emotions inspired by her miraculous rebirth at the hands of her mother, Washu. What frustrated Ryoko the most was, from her point of view, no time had passed at all. The last thing she recalled was being held in Tenchi’s arms after a ferocious battle, mortally wounded. She had finally closed her eyes, waited for what seemed no more than a second or two, then opened them only to find herself once again in Tenchi’s arms thirteen years later. It’s not to say that Ryoko was particularly displeased at not having to experience her death for the duration of thirteen years, but like all cognitive creatures, she was powerfully curious about the nature of life after death. The fact that, to her at least, absolutely nothing had happened but the blink of an eye was somewhat disappointing, as if she had missed out on one of the great universal mysteries. “And to have come so close, too,” Ryoko said to no one in particular. Perhaps the best explanation of what had happened was presented by Tenchi’s father, Nobuyuki. Recalling to back when he was in his twenties, he remembered having to be rushed to the hospital when his appendix had become infected and needed to be removed surgically. The doctors had administered him with drugs to put him to sleep just before the operation. Nobuyuki had not even gotten a yawn in, when he decided to close his eyes once. When he immediately opened them, he found himself being wheeled out of the operating room to the recovery ward. Though he had been in surgery for almost an hour, from his point of view no time had passed at all. So perhaps the same had occurred to Ryoko. This theory made Ryoko feel better, regardless of the lack of conclusions even her mother, the greatest scientific mind in the universe, had been able to come up with. It was much more comforting to think of herself as just being asleep for all those years than being dead. Oddly enough, this theory had helped both her husband and her daughter recover from their initial grief of reuniting with Ryoko. She was not a really a ghost, she had just been a sleeping beauty of sorts. ‘Let’s not forget the role Tsunami had in my resurrection, either,’ she pondered, her musings turning back to Sasami. Ryoko might have continued that train of thought, but she crested the last step and arrived in the pleasant lawn in front of the Masaki shrine. She instantly knew that Tenchi was not here either, but she spied someone just as interesting to stop and banter with for a bit. “Oi! Hey, old man,” Ryoko gleefully called out. Yosho, Tenchi’s grandfather, stopped his sweeping, turned about calmly and acknowledged her. “Good morning, demon. You’re looking very well this morning.” Yosho casually began to sweep the front steps of the shrine again. “Looking at you, one wonders how you’ve managed to keep your figure after ten thousand years.” Ryoko instantly bristled and frowned slightly at Yosho. “You know perfectly well that it’s only been *two* thous – “ Ryoko caught herself as a small smile warmed across Yosho’s face, knowing he had gotten her goat. She laughed merrily, her annoyance dissipating as quickly as it had arrived. Ryoko phased out of sight and reappeared to the right of Yosho, and, stretching up on her toes, she planted a light kiss on his cheek. “If I’m really ten thousand years old,” she said sweetly in her low voice, “at least I show it better than a gray haired prince of Jurai I could mention.” “Oh!” exclaimed Yosho. “So, if I insult you more often, will I get more kisses? Heh-heh- OW!! Ah-cha-cha!” Yosho skipped away a few paces grinning, one hand on his backside where Ryoko had casually smacked him quite hard. Yosho composed himself quickly, coughing slightly as his usual serious demeanor reasserted itself. “Ryoko-san, it is good to have you back with this family. I would have given anything to see the pain lifted from the hearts of Tenchi and my great grand-daughter these past years, and your return to us here has done just that.” Ryoko felt her face go suddenly warm, and she dropped her gaze to the grass between them. “Yosho,” she started, “I have never apologized for what I did all those years –” “Ah, Ryoko-san,” Yosho interrupted, continuing his sweeping, “it is all in the far forgotten passed. Please think no more of it from this day on.” * * * ‘I *am* getting soft in the heart,’ thought Ryoko, mentally berating herself. She was walking a down a winding path that eased its way along the side of the mountain, occasionally exposed from the trees, offering a pleasant view of the surrounding mountain sides. Ryoko still had no doubt in her mind that she could wipe out of existence an entire division of Galaxy Police if the need ever arose; the problem was that the idea, and others like them that were once rather thrilling, just didn’t hold her interest anymore. Having spent the past few millennia in a general mode of mayhem, the notion that suddenly that kind of lifestyle was becoming personally distasteful left Ryoko with something of a small identity crisis. It had probably started with meeting and falling in love with Tenchi. Certainly, her attitude had shifted radically with the birth of their daughter. ‘I’ll give this domestic thing a century or so,’ thought Ryoko, sighing dramatically, ‘after that, maybe Tenchi wouldn’t mind being first mate to a pirate so much.’ A wicked grin split Ryoko’s face, and her eyes narrowed with mirth. She looked around. “Being so good all the time can’t be healthy for me. Time to spend some karma!” Ryoko rose up and disappeared with a shimmer. * * * Tenchi Masaki, member of the royal house of Jurai and part time carrot farmer, leaped back gracefully, bringing his boken down in a smooth, slashing arc before him, ending his final form of the morning. This was always his favorite part, after all the simulated violence and wicked cutting of practice; to end all the activity and let your mind drain of thoughts and concern was almost an addiction. Tenchi took a deep breath, ritually put away his weapon, and relaxed his body while maintaining a perfectly erect posture. Despite the final flurry of activity he had been engaged in not thirty seconds before, already his body had calmed considerably. He took air in through his nose slowly, held it in his abdomen for a few moments, then exhaled just as slowly through his mouth. With his eyes shut, Tenchi let the world fall away. Despite the calming nature of the relaxation exercise, Tenchi knew the much more practical and important purpose for it. After working your body and mind to a high level of aggression, where the blood pounded in your ears from mock battle, it was essential to return to a peaceful state before interacting with the rest of the world. To walk away from training with your heart pounding and your mind still racing colored your perception of unfolding events and would more often than not lead to some kind of misfortune. He could not even begin to count the number of times he had heard his grandfather recite the same words over and over, “Always let your mind be at peace before *and* after battle, Tenchi. The violence generated in your mind should be only directed at your opponent and *only* during combat.” And how often had Tenchi further repeated the remaining philosophy to his daughter? “Remember, Yui, there is no place for violence in this world once your opponent is defeated.” Probably more than he could count. Tenchi allowed himself a small frown; too many people in this world didn’t bother to pass along such wisdom when training men and women in the arts of violence. Training someone’s body as, or to use, a weapon without teaching the wisdom of proper restraint was nothing short of folly, as far as Tenchi was concerned. Clearing his thoughts again, Tenchi let go into a deeper state of standing meditation. For a few moments, his mind was completely devoid of thought, a feat easier said than done for anyone at any time. And then, without warning, the tiniest shiver raced through his spine. “Teeeeeeeeen-chi!” a low voice whispered by his ear. Immediately, a pair of very slender and powerful arms materialized around his chest and pulled him backwards quickly. “Waaaaaaaah!” choked Tenchi in complete surprise as he was dragged somewhat roughly to the ground. He found himself finally settled in Ryoko’s lap, with her arms still firmly entrained about his chest from behind and her head resting on his shoulder. Tenchi worked to catch his breath. “What’s the matter, Tenchi?” Ryoko inquired. “You haven’t been this tense from one of my surprises since we first got married.” Tenchi took another breath and instantly relaxed his body. Ryoko took this opportunity to draw herself tighter against his back and sigh happily. “That’s better, my Tenchi,” she murmured. While Ryoko seemed content to do nothing more than savor the proximity, Tenchi’s mind was awash with a thousand memories, emotions, and pains that chose that moment to surface, each colliding with another in a struggle to keep his attention. All the thoughts, all the feelings he had kept to himself, fought down and locked away tightly from the world for the past thirteen years, were free and in need of resolution. “Ryoko-san?” “Yes, my Tenchi?” “Ryoko-san,” Tenchi faltered, his voice becoming hesitant, “I-I don’t where to begin. There are things I need to tell you… things… you need to know that no one else knows.” Tenchi felt his body go numb as his mind struggled to put word to a decade’s worth of emotion. Ryoko sensed the strain in Tenchi’s voice, and gently turned his shoulder until Tenchi was almost completely facing her. His eyes were downcast, and his face a shade of pale. She took his chin with the tips of her fingers and raised his face upwards gently. ‘He looks almost no different,’ she thought. ‘All these years have passed, and he still resembles the beautiful twenty-one year old I married.’ Tenchi’s exposure to the power of the Juraian family had already had its effect on his physiology. Even though he had been alive for almost forty years now, his appearance had not altered in almost two decades, with the exception of the tiniest of sun lines in the corners of his eyes. Those eyes lifted to meet hers. Ryoko studied them carefully. ‘His eyes are different, though… They’re older and more matured than I remember.’ Ryoko nodded gently, encouraging Tenchi to speak. Tenchi drew a deep breath, dropped his gaze, and began. “When you died, everything stopped. Everything. Everyone around us dropped away from me completely, and I couldn’t hear anything at all. All I could do was look at how peaceful your face was, relaxed and smooth. I-I waited for just a bit, I think, for you to wake up and smile, but I really knew it wasn’t going to happen.” Tenchi paused, his face growing an uncomfortable look. Ryoko moved her hand from his chin, wrapping it comfortingly around the back of his neck; she started to slowly massage it. Tenchi swallowed. “The only thing I could think of was how I didn’t feel anything. Nothing at all. You were dead in my arms, and there was no pain, no sensation at all.” There was another pause, and Tenchi remained still, breathing evenly. “It was as if… as if everything that was part of me had been pushed back far away out of earshot from my being.” Tenchi’s neck and shoulders relaxed and fell slightly under Ryoko’s attentions. “I know I was in shock, but I also know I had one thought left to me. Tenchi-ken was still in my hand, deactivated. Still looking at you, I felt my hand lifting slowly, gradually pointing the sword towards my heart –” Ryoko froze deadly still, her mind racing but forming no coherent thoughts. “It would have only taken a thought,” continued Tenchi, “not even a whisper to Tenchi-ken, and I could have joined you. And that made me happy. I-I know… I know, because the others around us saw me smile, even though they didn’t realize what I was about to do.” Tenchi paused. Ryoko hadn’t moved. Every pore in her body screamed at her to do something, to react somehow to keep Tenchi from completing his story. Instead, she slammed her emotions down on the inside with a vengeance, pulled Tenchi in with her hand until their foreheads were touching gently, and waited. Tenchi closed his eyes. “I was so ready to die,” he whispered. “No, that’s not right… I was so happy to die. Everything was so peaceful and quiet. I still couldn’t hear anything anyone else was saying.” Tenchi opened his eyes. “And then, I heard Yui crying behind me.” Ryoko, one of the toughest pirates in the galaxy, clamped her eyes shut and felt hot tears begin to course down her cheeks. “Yui… Tenchi… my family,’ she thought. Ryoko kept her arms and body from trembling, waiting for Tenchi to finish. Tenchi drew in a ragged breath, and exhaled. “From that moment on, my life had two focuses. From the instant I heard her crying, Yui became the center of my life. Knowing she was here in this world, needing me more than ever with you dead…” He wrapped his arms around Ryoko slowly. “I had the greatest reason in the world to live, Ryoko-san,” Tenchi stated, “but the pain began from that moment and never stopped.” His voice quieted and became detached sounding, “Every morning, I’d pull myself out of bed, put on a mask, and face the day. And every day I tried to raise Yui and Mayuka the best that I could. I had the best help I could want, I know. Sasami and Washu helped be the mothers I could never be… They gave me the time to deal with the other certainty of my life – your not being with me –” Ryoko jerked her head up from Tenchi, eyes streaming and her face anguished. “Tenchi,” she cried, her voice stricken, “I don’t remember *any* of this! I-I closed my eyes for a moment, and suddenly I have a family who thought I was dead, a daughter who’s almost an adult and won’t be needing a mother, little Mayuka who is already grown, and my husband who has had to live so long without me, that m-my presence makes him uncomfortable and pained!” Ryoko’s voice weakened so much, she became speechless. Tenchi drew her head under his chin and hugged her tightly. “No, no, beloved,” Tenchi soothed, “your presence brings me nothing but comfort and joy.” He held Ryoko, rocking her back and forth gently. Above them, two small clouds traversed along side each other in an otherwise cloudless sky, pushed slowly by a light summer breeze. Surrounding trees echoed the breeze along the mountain side, their thick, green leaves a whispering chorus of life. In this far distance, rumbling just over the movement of the trees, the sound of a passing aircraft came and went. Tenchi listened to all these voices, searching for the words that would relieve both him and his wife of grief. “I have been given a gift beyond price,” he said, looking across the valley to the distant mountains. “That which I have loved more than my own existence has been restored to me. The joy your being my wife brings me, here and now, makes my head light and dizzy.” Ryoko ceased her sobbing, but still cried quietly, listening with hope to every word Tenchi uttered. “But,” he continued, “I *am* uncomfortable and afraid –” Ryoko stiffened. “— afraid that every time I see you walking towards me, just before our hands meet, you’ll disappear and leave, this time forever.” “T-Tenchi!” she stammered, raising her eyes to his face, “I-I….” “Shhhh. Shhhh. I know, beloved. I know.” He stopped and kissed Ryoko lightly on the forehead. “We will be together for a long, long time, I promise you.” He bent his head lower and gently kissed her on the lips. “Please be patient with me,” Tenchi whispered, “there will be a day very soon when all the hurt of your absence will leave me, and I won’t be able to remember what life was ever like without you.” All the anguish gradually washed out of Ryoko, carried away on a summer breeze. “Oh, my prince.” “Ryoko-san.” In a feat that seemed to defy physics, Ryoko and Tenchi actually managed to tighten their embrace even further. * * * In the center of a dark laboratory, a petite figured woman with flowing, spiky hair sighed and relaxed back into her large and well padded chair. Being the greatest scientific genius in the universe didn’t mean Washu was aloof to the comforts that a well designed chair brought. With her eyes closed, as they had been in the darkness for some time, Washu carefully stroked the long eared ball of fur sitting in her lap in the shadows. Minutes passed, with the only sounds coming from various devices whose purpose would be absolutely unclear to any visitor. Washu finally opened her eyes to the dimly lit work area around her. “It’s not easy being linked so directly to the ones we love, is it?” “Mee-oow…” came a quiet affirmative. “Don’t worry, Ryo-ohki,” Washu comforted, stretching her spine a bit. “She’s going to be fine. They’re both going to be just fine.” “Meow-meow,” agreed the cabbit. Washu sighed again. She had tried to block out most of her daughter’s thoughts in respect of her privacy, but Ryoko’s emotions had simply over powered her in the end. They were emotions Washu had long since abandoned, and thought lost for good. Now, memories of another time and another life were surfacing on their own, shrouding Washu in a melancholy. “Do you think it’s possible that I’ve been in dark laboratories by myself like this for too long, little one?” she asked quietly, absently scratching Ryo-ohki’s head. Ryo-ohki paused for a moment, considering. “Meow.” * * * In the glow of the sunset, two older men stood a few feet apart, facing a carved stone marker. Neither man spoke for a long time, each recalling their own images of other times and places, though both involving the same woman. The sun, glowing red and hazy, had just touched the top of the mountainous horizon when one of the men finally spoke. “It never became any less painful,” Tenchi’s father, Nobuyuki, mentioned slowly, “it just became more distant as the years moved on.” A warm, early evening wind ruffled his graying hair. “No one should ever have to outlive their own child,” Yosho agreed, his expression passively fixed on the marker. More moments passed, and Nobuyuki turned to look out across the valley in the twilight. “We did a good job, I think,” he said. “Indeed, I believe we did well.” * * * Coming up in Chapter Two: "As such, it is time for you to return to Jurai and once again assume all of your royal duties." Travel, Ryoko demonstrates her manipulative abilities, and sudden impacts! Send comments to Mike McAvoy (mmcavoy@acm.vt.edu) http://www.acm.vt.edu/~mmcavoy/ Last updated June 29, 1998.