Disclaimer: Tenchi Muyo! and all non-original characters are the property of AIC and Pioneer LDC, Inc. I'm still a poor college student, so please don't sue me! *hides copy of bank statement* This story could not be possible without help from two very special guys. Shinzantetsu, Zervon: thanks for helping me realize these crazy ideas. ::HUGGLES:: Tenchi Muyo! Tears of Steel: Part1 by Arca Jeth Departure From Self: The Captain's lounge sparkled in its own brand of aloof opulence. Crystal chandeliers bathed the room in golden light. Waiters and bus boys moved between the tables, serving, overpriced meals, arranging place settings, and freshening drinks. Patrons spoke quietly of a million nonsensical subjects, from new taxes, to wedding plans. Smiling young couples shared desserts, while a middle-aged woman cautioned her husband that he was drinking too much wine. Children fidgeted in stifling dress clothes while staring longingly at the dessert cart. The Matre'd at his station, was absently checking the reservation list and thinking of his unfaithful girlfriend, when a clattering silver and several sharp gasps jolted him out of his reverie. Just inside the faux golden doors stood a woman, who in another life might have been described as pretty, even beautiful. Her glossy, black hair was cut savagely short with ragged bangs covering her forehead. The back of her hair just touched the turned up collar of the black trench coat she wore. Her elfin face was deathly pale. The only color was black cherry lipstick and jet black eye shadow, which set off her crimson eyes. And, of course the tattoo of three tears upon her left cheek. Her short, boyish haircut featured a long sidelock of hair, bound by a few dark beads. The nearly floor-length coat revealed a hint of some sort of leather boot and nothing else. After conferring with several waiters, the Matre'd hesitantly approached the woman. "May I help you Miss?" he asked, trying to throw all of the lofty contempt he could into his voice. "Can you alter the flow of time?" the woman asked, her voice holding the depth of winter. "W-what?" the Matre'd blinked. "Never mind," she said waiving the man off. "I have a reservation under Meibako Honoo." The Matre'd checked his list, looked at the woman and checked again. "Your, ahem... Reservation is for 8:30," he finally said. "I know I'm early," the woman said with narrow eyes. "I have to meet someone before dinner." "Um...this way please," the man said nervously. He nodded and an attendant came to take Meibako's coat. The woman shifted quickly at the attendant's approach. She stared the matre'd down a moment then removed the coat, revealing a long-sleeved black dress with a wrap-around skirt that ended just above high heeled, soft leather boots. As the matre'd led Meibako to the bar, he noticed her long, slender fingers, topped with lacquered, ebony fingernails. "Your table will be ready in a few minutes," the man said and hurried off. Meibako sat at the bar and ordered a fruit juice. "What kind miss?" the bartender inquired with a disdainful look. "Surprise me," she answered with a menacing gaze. She adjusted a sleeve and a hint of metal was briefly exposed. The bartender jerked back as if from a flame, his disapproval replaced by apprehension. Meibako finally broke her gaze, allowing the man to quickly get about his work. As she waited, she surveyed the restaurant, spying startled diners trying to keep their eyes on their plates. As her drink arrived, a blond haired man, with dark brown eyes in a charcoal gray suit took the stool next to her. Meibako absently sipped her drink--a tangy cranberry juice--while her left hand stayed below the bar surface. "It's about time you showed up," she said, her icy tone more annoyed than angry. Her hand came back into view, empty. "The traffic was unbelievable," the blond man protested. "Some hover truck driver spilled a load of crinkle fish and-" Meibako's glare stopped him cold. "Do you have what I need Caleb?" "But of course," Caleb said producing a small, brown envelope. "Though what a beautiful young lady such as you would want with these characters is beyond me." "That is my concern," Meibako said making the envelope vanish as if by magic. "Was there something else?" She asked when Caleb didn't leave. "I just wanted to see how you're holding up," he answered straightening his tie. "I'm still alive," Meibako answered. "How's your wife?" Caleb started a bit but his face remained neutral. "Heh..can't fool you," he chuckled. "This is new," Caleb said reaching out to touch the teardrop tattoo on Meibako's cheek. "When did you get this-Ahh!" The man nearly screamed when Meibako seized his little finger and twisted it backward. "OK," Caleb hissed. "I deserved that." "NEVER touch me again!" the dark haired woman whispered forcefully. "Got it?" She increased the pressure until there was an audible "pop." The sound of shattering glass rang out as the bartender dropped a wine bottle. Several patrons looked over in awe of the display. Seeing the attention, Meibako released Caleb. "Ah! You broke it." Caleb managed to get out, a tear springing from his eye. "Stop your whining," Meibako said. "It is only dislocated. Try that again and I'll have it as a souvenir." "'Nami!" Caleb said standing unsteadily to his feet. "Are we even now?" "You've only paid half of your debt to me," Meibako said. "Now get out of my sight until I contact you again." Any other protests Caleb had in mind died unsaid. He turned on his heel and hurried out, favoring his injured hand. Someone cleared his voice and Meibako swung around to meet a waiter. "Table...Miss...ready...yours..." he stammered. "Of course," Meibako said and allowed him to show her to her seat. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Aboard the "Black Rage" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- For centuries, ship design always walked a fine line between beauty and functionality. Ships meant for battle were usually given harsh lines and angles, the more to appear ferocious. Pleasure ships and yachts, were usually more streamlined with rough edges smoothed away. The "Black Rage," however could only be described as a meeting of the two. The outer hull was a non-reflective black. Free of hard angles, the Rage looked more like a piece of unpolished jewelry than a fighting ship. Gun mounts were hidden beneath artfully placed protrusions on the front and rear. Propulsion veins could turn independently and were placed on either side of the ship, making for blindingly fast banks and turns. The ship's bridge was amidships rather than the customary front. At the bow rested a false bridge. While the ship's other features included a sensor stealth mode, several ship disabling weapons and an enhanced drive unit; its true glory lies within. Meibako entered her ship, after of course disabling the deadly security devices. Instead of the usual gray metal decks or lighted bulkheads, the Rage featured moody, dark wall hangings. In fact the interior looked more like a collection of rooms than a space faring vessel. "Lights," Meibako ordered. Flickering lights appeared as several hundred candles ignited. The candles were scattered about the room in individual stands or candelabras, while others were suspended from the ceiling in chandeliers. Meibako passed her hand over a nearby flame and a small door opened revealing a closet. (The flames were actually created by fiber optic micro-filaments) Meibako hung up her coat and turned to remove her boots. Meibako placed them in the closet and continued barefoot through the ship. Meibako entered the ship's true bridge, which also served as a makeshift bedchamber. The "bed" was actually a collection of cushions and blankets piled into a far corner. The rest of the space was littered with more candle sticks, a dressing screen and a large draped section of wall. The dark haired woman paused before a small pedestal upon which a bright flame burned. As she passed her hand through the flames the drapes pulled back to reveal a viewscreen. Meibako scanned the surounding docking yard to see if any familiar ships had followed her. Seeing only cargo and passenger ships, the dark-haired woman closed the screen and touched another flame; this one crimson. Another burning pedestal appeared. This one was different from the others as it burned with a real flame from its base to its top. Meibako thrust her hands into the flame, knowing it would burn anyone else foolhardy enough to try it. The flames immediately died, revealing a silver hemisphere. A red beam of light shot out from the hemisphere, Playing over Meibako's eyes. After a long moment the object split down its center revealing a small chamber. Inside it was an intricately carved wooden circlet. As she brushed the smooth surface, the circlet pulsed with a brief light. "It is time," Meibako whispered. The ship surged to life beneath her and began plying its way out of the spaceport and into the unknown. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ One year earlier ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Ryoko was late once again. "She's probably out getting drunk again," had been Aeka Jurai's glib reply. That was before. Before it became a regular occurrence. Before Aeka began to notice her rival's worn look. That was before Princess Aeka Jurai began to hear the voices. It was the second week of Ryoko's late-night disappearances; one's for which Aeka ascribed to the pirate's drunkenness. Yet for reasons she had yet to understand, the princess had taken it upon herself to wait up for her rival. Not of course, out of any genuine concern (Tsunami forbid!), but she just wanted to make sure the demon's drunken bumbling didn't awaken the rest of the household. Aeka yawned, daintily. It had been such a trying day: Ryo-Ohki had gotten into a compost heap, and Aeka had spent the day with Sasami tracking down the reeking cabbit for a bath. After holding her down for a thorough scrubbing, the princess still had to sweep the Shrine steps. Ryoko had risen even later than usual, almost missing the midday meal entirely. Aeka had given up on complaining--at least this week--and contented herself to appear the hard- working, punctual woman Tenchi needed in his life. With dreams of her beloved whisking her off to a fairytale castle, and leaving that monster woman in the cold, Aeka's eyelids fluttered closed and the manga she'd been reading fell to the floor. ----- Footsteps. Though they had the padding of tabi, the tread sounded heavy; dragging. Aeka, wavering between sleep and wakefulness, barely registered the sounds. A door slid closed, and the footsteps continued. With each moment, the drag became more pronounced. Step... drag... step, step... pause... drag... step. A chair creaked with added weight as the sounds halted. Aeka could hear labored breathing, then a sharp gasp. She briefly wondered if this strange dream could be more than it seemed. The chair creaked again as it's occupant arose and shuffled toward the sofa where the princess drifted. She could feel warm breath on her face, and after a moment a drop of moisture. The sharp gasp came again--though when Aeka had time to think about it, it was more a sob--and she felt the other draw nearer. The breath stimulated the fine hairs of her cheeks and neck, it was so close. And then... Aeka...saw.... __________________________________________________________________________________________ Two weeks later __________________________________________________________________________________________ The princess sat amongst several bags and suitcases, her finest clothing strewn across the floor of her room. She picked up a random garment to pack it away but stopped mid-motion. It was a violet kimono, with delicate embroidery along the edges. Aeka traced the patterns of the embroidered tree branches, which spelled out her family line in flowing script. Aeka remembered when Misaki gave it to her as a birthday present. When she'd first seen it, she'd wept at its beauty and tried to hug the life out of her mother. Yet now, as she stared at the silken garment, her face contorted with pure contempt. She clutched the fabric with hooked fingers and tore it asunder. "No good," she muttered to herself as she commences ripping apart the larger half of her wardrobe. She took an ornamental dagger from her desk and sliced through silks. Cut cotton, ripped suede. She paused her tirade and slumped to the seat before her vanity. The girl in the mirror stared back at her with pale skin, sunken eyes and a sheen of sweat pasting her hair to her brow. Purple hair. Long violet tresses flowed almost to her ankles. How many hours had she spent washing, brushing and styling to get it just right? Perfection. Striving to make herself...better. No, the best. And for what? Was this her purpose? "What a miserable existence," she whispered. Aeka looked down to find the knife still in her hand. With a choked cry of rage Aeka attacked her ponytails. Ignored the pain as she hacked away at her hair, leaving a ragged mess. For the first time in days, the girl in the mirror smiled. "Now I can begin..." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Notes... Where is this going? I'll let you know when I get there. I'm just glad to be along for the ride. There's more to come. "Meibako" comes from the kanji for "girl who brings retribution." "Honoo" means blaze or flame. Zervon: thanks for the translations. Domo arigatou gozaimasu! Thanks for reading, Arca Jeth