Three Hundred Years in the Making A Tenchi Muyo! Fan fiction attempt by Jerico Mele To Washuu it seemed a shame to lose so much information about the real nature of time by assigning it a simple numerical and alphabetical relationship, but she supposed that most people on this little planet couldn’t be bothered with doing four dimensional manifolds in their heads whenever anyone asked what time it was. So she used the simple alphanumerical approximation that had come into use on this planet. “Seven AM,” she said to herself, “a beautiful sunrise,” she concluded, working out the local time index in her head. To Washuu little things like that were the little perks to interpersonal relationship, namely an excuse to sharpen her mathematical skills and conceptual grasp on the shape of the universe, all 17 dimensions of it. Sure, she could approximate by ignoring the tenth order derivations and beyond, but where would the fun be in that? Still, she admitted grudgingly, the sight of a G class solar body cresting the terminator and the resultant cascade of photons was a sight that could lose nothing in translating back to simple terms. Washuu sat back, enjoying the sight and silence. Sunday mornings at the Masaki residence were true periods of tranquility, usually reserved only for herself and Grandpa. And since Grandpa had left for the Shrine a few moments before, Washuu was by herself. Then a yelp sounded from upstairs, signaling the start of a new day at the Masaki residence. Judging from the vocal pattern, Washuu thought, that would be Tenchi. And given previous behavioral information, it would seem that Ryoko decided to ‘wake’ him up again. Washuu’s reasoning was confirmed a moment later by the screams of “Ryoko! Cut it out!” With a gesture Washuu summoned her computer from its hiding place, wrapped up in seven or eight dimensions that humanity wouldn’t know about for a couple hundred years. Or until they get a good control over Planck scale energy reaction, she mused. She opened the file marked ‘Ryoko’ and added a 3/4 errect cabbit under the heading ‘wakes Tenchi with sexual activity' (a guess she approved of due to the volume and pitch of the scream). I hope the remotes manage to infiltrate his room soon, she thought as she began another run of her personality simulator, so I can get more specific data. Otherwise, she continued silently, all these simulations are so much chaotic junk. The computer returned her an error string, the specifics of which she couldn’t be bothered to read just yet, so she sent the computer away. “Oh Ryoko,” she said silently as she contemplated her daughter’s methods of seduction. Like everything else she did it was so…unsubtle. Then she picked out noises coming from the rooms above. The door to the bathroom, she suspected. It seemed that Tenchi’s yelp acts like an alarm clock, with everyone’s day beginning along with his. Idly, Washuu called back her computer and activated the bathroom monitors (she had carefully excluded Noboyuki from their activation protocols shortly after meeting him, assuming that no data gathered from him would be worth the sights that might greet her). Ryoko, Sasami and Ayeka were all beginning their morning bath. A bath could be good, Washuu thought, tired of the hygienic nanites that had kept her almost hospital clean for the last ten thousand years or so. Nothing like a relaxing bath, she continued silently. But she couldn’t take herself away from the sight of the sun as it continued its slow (relative to her anyway) advance across the sky. So she waited on the porch, at least until the others drove her away with their unenlightened conversation. Then she heard a beep from nowhere and bolted upright. Her computer reappeared from n-space and displayed a message she had recorded 300 years ago, while in Kagato’s trap. “Oh my!” she exclaimed, “today’s the day already?” She turned and entered the house, running as fast as her legs could carry her. Tenchi was coming down the stairs at a time as close to simultaneous as Einstein would allow, and smiled when he saw Washuu. “Good morning, Washuu,” he said happily, only to have her streak by with a muted “That’s Washuu-chan!” before she disappeared into her laboratory. “Wonder what she’s running from,” he said nervously, looking out the door for something that could scare off the Universe’s Greatest Genius ™. Not finding anything in the normal Masaki scenery he shrugged and continued towards the kitchen, waiting for Sassami to come and make breakfast. Tenchi’s good humor ran out a few moments after Sassami told him to get Washuu for breakfast. Actually his good humor ran out a few seconds before she asked him, his highly developed sense of paranoia tipping him off by noticing Sasami’s face puckering up to ask him a favor. Logic dictated that due to the circumstances he would be entering the laboratory very soon. So Tenchi worked up his courage and walked towards the door that led to Washuu’s hideaway. In the back of his mind an old song played. He couldn’t understand the words, it being an American song from long ago, but the mood suited the situation Tenchi knocked at Washuu’s door softly, hoping that he wouldn’t be heard. Unfortunately he was incorrect in his attempt at underhandedness, as the door opened silently on its own. He stepped into the laboratory, faint tingle rippling across his body as he passed the threshold. All the hyper-dimensional rooms did that to him, but he was too nervous to really worry about it whenever he passed through one. The laboratory never ceased to awe him, even in the face of mortal terror. It seemed so wrong that there was more space in this room than in the house itself. He followed the steps, keeping silent, his plan to surprise Washuu with the news of breakfast then run screaming out of the lab. He was also careful not to touch anything, partially because he was a polite boy and partially due to abject terror over destroying the house, Japan or the World. He reached Washuu’s work area after a few moments of descent. It was unusually quiet, which was slightly disturbing, but he managed to contain his fear and glance around for Washuu. After a few moments he managed to pick out her form, hidden among the various apparatus that always seemed to be glowing or moving or both. After checking behind him for any ambulatory chairs or racks he walked over and said hello. “Tenchi! How are you doing?” Washuu said. Something about how she said it made him nervous. Or perhaps it was Washuu’s visible nervousness that set him off. She seemed to be blocking his view of something with her body, no simple task for such a small girl’s body. “Ah, Sasami asked if you’d like breakfast,” he said, nonchalantly checking the area behind him in case she was still planning something, then attempting to move slightly to the side to see behind Washuu. Though she did it subtly he noticed she still blocked his view. “Are you working on anything special,” he asked, curiosity overpowering his self-preservation instincts. “Oh no,” she said, quickly, stepping from foot to foot in a fashion that indicated otherwise. Tenchi silently marked down the time and date as the first time Washuu had ever been nervous without Mihoshi being present. “Just something I cooked up a little while ago.” She giggled a little as she finished. “Would you like to come up for breakfast?” “Certainly.” She stuck her arm out for Tenchi, who reluctantly took it. “After you.” Tenchi led her up the stairs, noticing that she still managed to keep herself directly between him and whatever it was she was working on. Mihoshi looked around, enchanted with the view out the window. Spectacular, she thought, then giggled. So much going on out there, she thought. So much to do and see. “Oh,” she gasped as a hummingbird settled over the flower she had been watching for the last couple of minutes. All around her, breakfast was being consumed at a rate that would surprise anyone not familiar with the eaters. For such skinny girls, she thought, we do eat a lot. Then she whimpered as she began worrying about her figure. “Do you like it, Mihoshi?” Sassami asked innocently. “Yes!” Mihoshi yelled as she stood up and ran off. “What happened there?” Ryoko asked as she watched her run off. Then she looked around surreptitiously and grabbed the bowl of soup that had set Mihoshi to running off. She grinned. “Ryoko you are the most despicable thief I’ve ever encountered,” Ayeka’s royal voice rang out. Ryoko winced, and turned to face her. “Please, Princess. Its too early to hear your shrill voice.” “Lazy and a thief,” Ayeka responded, crossing her arms and snorting in a surprisingly royal manner. “I guess you haven’t changed a great deal in 700 years.” Nearly everyone at the table dove for cover, with the exception of Washuu, who retrieved her computer from somewhere and began taking notes. An expression of concentrated joy crossed her face as she waited for the fun to start. Energy levels to chart, she thought happily, and biopsychic impressions to monitor. She felt the rush of adrenaline racing through her daughter’s body through the psychic link. Neural feedback data, too, she added excitedly. “Excuse me, Ayeka-chan,” Ryoko replied in a sweet tone, “I didn’t mean to steal what your family worked so hard on. Or was it what you worked so hard to steal so long ago.” “What?” Ayeka yelled, anger building at her the insult to her family’s honor. “You never learned much in the way of history, did you?” Ryoko mocked. Interesting, Washuu thought. Perhaps she’s not so hopeless after all. Then she worked out a couple equations involving the probability of that statement, and sighed at the result. “You brigand! How dare you imply that my family has, has, stolen anything,” Ayeka replied, having trouble getting the words out. “We merely took the spoils of war. You simply took. Mummy,” she finished as Washuu added a cabbit to her tally under Ayeka that read ‘Resorts to immaturity during fight with Ryoko.’ “Prude.” “Harlot!” “Snob!” “Arrgh!” Ayeka yelled as she got to her feet. Tenchi got between the angry girls and Sassami, hoping to stop any debris with his body. He groaned in anticipation of the damage he would have to repair when this was all over. “I have taken enough of your insults, tramp,” she said in a cold tone. “Take your best shot, princess,” Ryoko replied, turning the title into an insult. “Wow,” Mihoshi breathed as the sights and sounds of Washuu’s lab. She didn’t come here too often, almost never alone after the others realized the consequences of such inattentiveness. It amused Washuu to no end that Mihoshi, the Galaxy Police officer, was more impressed by her room than a bunch of natives from a backwater planet. Or it had amused her until Mihoshi managed to destroy the matter- antimatter containment system that had been powering the little Genius’ experimental toaster oven. “Wow,” she said again, gazing at the coffee table sized 1000 GeV particle accelerator that served Washuu as a coffee table with blinking lights. Her hands were drawn towards the buttons and controls that dotted the beaten surface of the table/particle accelerator. The tiny portion of her brain not engaged with the strange sequence of blinking lights and flashing readouts reminded her of the last time she pushed a button in Washuu’s lab. The memory of people yelling and screaming, along with a not small dose of pain enhanced memory managed to persuade Mihoshi’s hand. Pursing her lips slightly she controlled herself. She sniffed slightly as a familiar odor wafted across the room. “Coffee cake?” she asked the room. After waiting for an answer, she followed her nose (it seemed it always knows) towards the back of the lab. A small podium, a stand really, with what looked like a microwave on top, stood against a wall of machinery. Warnings and messages were plastered all over it, in a selection of languages that ranged from Kanji and English to Jurian and Gutter Andromedan. Mihoshi didn’t notice these of course, but stared at the object hovering in the microwave window. “It is coffee cake,” she said quietly, so as not to disturb the silence that coated the lab. She bit her finger, a sign of intense (for Mihoshi) concentration. It looked so good, she couldn’t really help herself from reaching out towards it… Upstairs, breakfast was progressing normally. A ring of floating logs circled Ryoko as she growled at Ayeka, a low hum filling the room. Tenchi was dragging a protesting Sassami behind the counter as Washuu looked on, briefly taking notes on her computer, apparently unconcerned at the carnage that could break out any moment. Fortunately for the Masaki residence, a massive explosion blew the door that led to Washuu’s lab off its hinges. It sailed into the kitchen, smashing into Ryoko. Washuu began moving almost instantaneously, sprinting as fast as her little legs would carry her. Her brain had already determined what had happened, and she let out a blood curdling scream: “Mihoshi!!!!” she bellowed in a voice several octaves too low. Then she was gone, down into the lab. The puzzled remainders of the breakfast group looked at each other in confusion, then followed Washuu at a more cautious pace, waiting for Ryoko to dig herself out. Tenchi led the expedition, mostly out of curiosity as opposed to any sense of chivalry. Ayeka followed closely behind him, still stifling laughter at the look on Ryoko’s face after the door smashed her. Ryoko and Sassami were last, Sassami acting as a buffer between her sister’s back and the angry space pirate. Smoke clouded the room, turning Washuu’s lab into a slightly more threatening place. There was more movement than they were all accustomed to, a side effect of the machines attempting to minimize the damage to the rest of the experiments Washuu was running. “Washuu?” Tenchi asked. Upon receiving no answer he led the group towards the place he had found Washuu earlier that morning. He noticed that the smoke thickened here, and that there was a thin paste covering everything within a couple meters of ground zero. Washuu was kneeling in front of the epicenter, head resting on her chest, expression of extreme depression gracing her cute face. “Washuu,” Tenchi said tentatively. “Is everything all right?” Behind him, he heard Ryoko sniffing. “What’s that smell?” she asked. Tenchi picked it out too, a faintly familiar, but definitely appetizing odor that saturated the room. “It smells like…kind of like coffee,” Ayeka commented, noticing Sassami tasting a bit of the paste. “Don’t do that,” she shrieked. “It could be poisonous.” “I found Mihoshi!” Ryoko yelled from across the lab. She dragged a dazed and slightly singed Mihoshi from underneath a coffee table. “She’s all right.” “Must’ve been the sucrose alignment array,” Washuu said quietly. “Or possibly the coffee compression system. Mihoshi,” she said the word with great distaste, “managed to pick the most unstable process to interrupt.” “What was that thing, Washuu.” “Old family recipe,” the little genius said sadly. “What you humans call coffee cake. I started this one off during my imprisonment onboard the Soja. About Lamba cee to the thirteenth ago,” she said. Everyone looked at her. “All right,” she said, “three hundred years or so ago,” she translated, silently adding ‘barbarians’ to her speech. “I didn’t know you could cook, Washuu,” Sassami asked. “Washuu-chan,” she corrected absentmindedly. “Cooking is an art, Sassami. Baking,” her expression changed from one of depression to pure joy, “is a science!” “Why’d the coffee cake explode,” Ryoko asked. “You can’t rush a good cake,” Washuu said with a straight face. The others collapsed with a groan. Washuu stared around in confusion. “What?” she asked. “Its the third law of glucose dynamics.” Authors Drivel: This is still my first non Eva fanfic. This being the second draft (take 2) of this little story I’d like to address some of the C&C I received: - The continuity used is OAV. Any TV elements that crept in have been removed - Mihoshi’s character is (in my opinion) justified as plot advancement - I tried to increase the roles of Ryoko and Ayeka, or at least expand the reasons behind their fighting - The Fruit Loops reference was removed. By Jerico Mele, a wholly owned subsidiary of the Society for Creative Interpretation of Reality.