PROLOGUE

Kurz Webber was a little older, a little wiser. In the ten years since the dismantlement of Mithril, he had even learned a touch of humility. He'd adopted a new persona, a new look, and had even proven in the past six or so years that he could be a caring and devoted father and husband. If there was one thing about the ex-mercenary that he couldn't shake since he'd walked down the aisle, it was the irony that once he'd become a free man, he had thrown it all away for the sake of a girl.

Their visit to Tokyo had been an emotional one so far. Exactly ten years to the minute of the historic and horrible battle that had been his last, Kurz and his two little ladies stood at the spot where the Arm Slave that had carried Melissa Mao had met its ultimate demise. The three of them each kissed the white rose from the bundle Kurz had bought from a nearby flower shop and, at last, he dropped the delicate bloom to the pavement. In silence they stood there, staring down at the flower for a time.

Slowly, Kurz put an arm around his wife's waist and drew her to his side. Yue lay her head against his shoulder. They had known each other for long enough now that they knew what the other was thinking, and that they were each thinking the same thing. It had been Melissa, Yue's cousin, who had brought the pair together, four years after her death. Kurz put a hand on little Lei's shoulder, and the six-year-old girl turned her dark gaze up to his. He smiled down and mussed the girl's hair, thinking about how much she looked like the aunt she had never known.

After several minutes, Kurz looked at his wrist. It was exactly 10:48 A.M., meaning that half a world away, off the coast of a small island in the Caribbean, another ex-mercenary was about to do the same as he and his family.

Kurz sighed. There were two more trips he had to make this morning, and he wasn't sure he could make it in time… but this stop in particular had been crucial, at least for him. He knew Yue felt the same way. He kissed the top of her head and finally, having said his tenth goodbye in as many years, he led his ladies away from the site of Melissa Mao's final destination.

"See ya later," was all he said when he glanced back, smiling a sad smile.

He wondered if this would be the last goodbye, and when he might manage to get himself killed. He let the morbid thought pass and took the hand of each of the two special girls in his life as they prepared to cross a very busy Tokyo highway.

He hoped there was enough time…

Half a world away, at precisely 9:50 P.M., the local time, a young lady named Jasmine de la Croix helped her adoptive father, Uribe Cruze, a former mercenary for the long-dead organization known as Mithril, to lift the third of three small barrels, each filled with beautiful, white roses, over the edge of his fishing boat, the Tessa. The two sat in silence for a time afterwards, watching the roses drift out to sea, one for each life lost on that horrific day, minus one. Jasmine knew well the purpose of this ritual—she had gone with him each of the past six years—and though she had never known those who had died here, in the sinking of the Tuatha de Danaan, she still shed a tear for those who had been her father's comrades.

As the other flowers drifted away, her father pulled out the single blue rose that he always saved for last. He kissed the soft pedals and whispered, "Lieutenant Uribe Cruze, reporting for duty. As always, Madam Captain." He dropped that single rose into the sea to join the others, in the same way that Captain Teletha Testarossa had, exactly ten years before.

Uribe Cruze, a man who had cried exactly nine times in his life since the age of fourteen, cried for the tenth in as many years.

In New York City, a man with platinum blond hair stood behind his desk in his corner office on the ninety-third floor of the new World Trade Center's second tower, his nose buried in a white rose as he breathed in its intoxicating scent. He peered out the window to the third tower's brilliant, gilded clock. At exactly 10:00 P.M., Eastern Standard Time, ten years ago, Miss Morgan Eisenreich burst through a door leading into the conference room of a different building across town, with a report that would change the world.

Now, as the clock struck ten, he was left alone to remember his fallen sister in silence. A minute later, he took up his coat and hat, stepped out of his office, and headed home for the day. Ten years ago, the fun had only just begun when Tessa had perished along with her precious Tuatha de Danaan. Back then, Mithril had still been a thorn in his side, and by extension, a terrible burden on his superiors, along with a good deal of folks in similar "businesses" the world over.

A lot had changed in ten years.

But, in the end, all that meant was that now, each day was just excruciatingly boring.

Kana Otaka had spent most of the last ten years of her life in America, but she was back home now. She'd moved into a small apartment building in Tokyo. There were seventeen other residents, including the apartment manager, whom she had actually gotten to know quite well over the past ten years. After all, the manager had also been her landlord back in the States. After high school, she'd moved to a small Missouri town that was actually a suburb of Kansas City, where she'd attended UMKC. She stayed in the States with the grandson of a World War II veteran, an American by the name of Vincent Gulliver. Vincent's family had actually lived in Japan since the war, and he had been the first to go back to the United States in nearly sixty years.

Almost ten years after moving to the States, he'd decided to go back to Japan. Mostly, he'd made the decision out of respect to Kana, but also, what with his grandfather dead and his father's health failing, he'd wanted to ensure the continuation of the family business. Kana thought she was lucky: the family business just so happened to be the Gulliver's Travels Lodge, which made it significantly easier to seize a quality home in the middle of one of the world's largest and most populated cities.

She supposed she owed all the luck she'd had in leading a normal life to the Gullivers, actually. Because she had known Vincent, it had been easy to land a job when she moved back to Japan. After all, being the manager of the lodge, Vincent also knew the landlord quite intimately. She was his fifty-seven-year-old Korean stepmother, in fact, acting as the landlord in place of his ailing father. Due to this alone, in her mind, Kana had been able to earn a decent wage as the manager of the lodge's adjacent bathhouse, a very successful business considering most of the rooms offered had only shower stalls in their bathrooms.

Being the manager of a bathhouse had its perks, especially one that earned a great deal of money, but Kana was grateful to Vincent for another reason, a reason that few could even begin to understand without having lived the life that both Kana and Vincent had lived prior to having ever met one another. Ten years ago both of their lives had changed in a fleeting instant; three days later, Kana was introduced to Vincent as they boarded a flight to America, and their new lives.

In the chaos of that day, as the city continued to pick up the pieces in the aftermath of Hell on Earth, it had actually been quite easy to sneak out of the country, especially considering the resources of a mutual friend.

Now, on just her third day back in Tokyo—and her second day on the job as the bathhouse manager—Kana sat atop the roof of the apartment complex and stared through the mass of concrete and steel and glass. It was her lunch hour, and she intended to spend it alone, even if peace and quiet in Tokyo was as common as air in the dead of space. The date was significant, and that was what she thought about as she ate a light lunch of cucumber sandwiches and an iced coffee.

She thought about how different the world seemed since that day. The whole world, from the greatest of nations to the most insignificant speck of dusk, from the most powerful office on the planet to the darkest alleys where the homeless dwelled and the foulest fiends preyed upon the innocent, from the far reaches of the globe in every direction to the back yard of every household in between, had inexplicably changed.

Surprisingly, Kana didn't feel as utterly depressed as she used to when she let her thoughts drift back to the past. Actually, she had learned a long time ago that it was possible forget, if you really wanted to. With a sigh, she reached into her purse and grabbed a pack of cigarettes. She peered down into the small hole where she could have sworn she should find at least a couple smokes left, and her eye twitched with irritation. "Shit." She crumpled the empty pack in a fist and launched it over the side of the building. "Just my luck."

"Ya know, lady… you make it real hard to be an efficient groundskeeper when you litter right where I've already kept the ground for the day."

Kana's face went crimson as she spun around to face the owner of the voice, and her eyes fell upon a young girl with hair like hers—as black as night—though considerably longer with two jaw-length braids to either side of her pale face. Though her tone indicated irritation, her eyes glinted mischief and she wore a smirk to match.

"Oh geez!" Kana gasped. "Ayumi… is that you?"

The chipper sixteen-year-old bounded into her arms in a heartbeat. "Big sis!"

"Wow! Last time I saw you, you were just a little squirt!" Kana gently separated herself from the still short—but now, she noted, also a well-endowed—young woman. She shook her head in disbelief and poked her old friend on the nose. "I can't believe it's been… what, eight years now?"

"Just about!" Sparkling blue gray eyes inspected the older woman for a long moment before giving a nod. "Yeah, I think I approve. You look damn good, as always, big sis."

Kana laughed. "So glad you approve, you little brat."

They embraced again.

As sad as it was to be home on the ten year anniversary of Hell on Earth, Kana Otaka decided that she couldn't think of a better place to be.