Tenchi Muyo belongs to Pioneer and AIC. I am not profiting from the production
of this fic. Various quotes and the concept for this fic are taken from a song
of the same name, a beautiful, intense melody by Moxy Früvous.
------------------
Oú sont passées toutes nos nuits de rêve?
Aide-moi á les retrouver...
Tu disais qu't'allais toujours m'aimer.
The Emperor of Jurai was surrounded by beauty in his life-his incredible,
majestic palace with its sprawling, well-trimmed gardens and fountains. He had
power, more power than he could have imagined, and more wealth than could be
amassed in ten lifetimes. There were legions of people at his service, willing
to fetch, cook, scrub, trim, protect, inform, mend or entertain if asked. He
had spaceships named after him, he knew the goddesses personally, he had his
face on the Juraian dollar. He had everything.
He had a wife, also. A soft, elegant woman who was luminescent with beauty and
whose eyes glowed with intelligence and wisdom beyond her age. She was
sleeping, warm and perfect in the giant canopied bed they shared, dreaming of
him, radiating love while she slept. He could wake her right now, take her in
his arms, and she would willingly give herself to him.
Instead, Tenchi Masaki shuffled blindly through the darkened halls of his
palace. His heavy, crimson bathrobe hung open, the velvet dragging on the floor
behind him as his bare feet slapped the exquisite marble floor. The summer sky
was raining outside, but this deep in the palace the outdoors seemed another
world, distant and unreal. Tenchi prowled towards this other world, slowly and
thoughtlessly making his way to the third-floor balcony.
Faces flashed through his memory as he fought to block the thoughts from
progressing in their mad ballet through his mind. He saw images, silhouettes of
young and nubile women. He struggled with them, grasping at the images and
pushing them back into inactivity. He fought the hardest against a distant,
slim, catlike form outlined in moonlight.
Squeezing his eyes closed, Tenchi paused in his catatonic walk and turned his
face away. He felt so lost tonight, in these dark halls and rooms with their
golden tapestries and lack of memories. Finally, he managed to wrench the
visions from his mind's eye. Then the voices came.
There was singing, and laughing, and silly, stupid jokes. There were friendly
arguments, not-so-friendly arguments, apologies, confessions, and tears. He
ignored these, too-he had resolved to be happy. He had all that he could want,
all that he could ever ask for. He pushed forward again through the palace
corridor, scuffing his feet on the cool tile.
He didn't know why so much of him felt hollow. He had always been an optimistic
person, set on hope and possibility. Everywhere he looked, he saw opportunities
for things to improve, for more people to be happy, content. But recently he
had been experiencing a nagging emptiness, an oppressive hopelessness. Memories
were manifesting themselves more and more frequently. He usually relished his
memories, thoughts of his past and friends, but now they carried with them a
sense of longing, a feeling of having lost something very palpable and real,
like a limb or a child. Something so completely a part of him that he could
hardly survive without it.
The passageways flooded with the static of a thunderstorm as Tenchi neared the
end of the west wing of the palace. A cool breeze that smelled of ozone batted
his robe back as the enigma of rain crept upon his senses. He heard thunder,
distant and quiet, like the purring of a giant, sleepy cat. Far-off flickers of
lighting briefly illuminated the low, uniformly gray clouds.
He stood for a moment in the balcony's doorway, leaning against a gilded door,
observing. The air was cold, for summer, and his skin tightened and goosebumped
from the dying wind. Rain had always filled him with a sense of peace, and it
seemed to satiate his memories for a few moments, he hoped perhaps putting them
to rest for the evening.
He didn't know how long he stood there, his mind growing numb as this universal
peace washed through him, but when he broke from his trance the rain had
stopped. He blinked for a moment, cycling the newly cleaned air through his
bloodstream, then stepped carefully out onto the balcony.
Cool water had pooled on the tiles, and the bottom of his robe was soaked by the
time he reached the railing. He leaned against its wet surface, a chill seeping
through his nightclothes as he stared into the darkness. The moon peered
briefly from behind a cloud, as if checking if it was safe for it to return.
Another thin cloud passed over its surface, and then it was naked, hanging low
and bright in the sky.
His memories stirred in their slumber, responding violently to the new
moonlight. Everything Tenchi had suppressed rushed in air bubbles to the
surface, overwhelming him and forcing him to combat a desperate burning in his
eyes.
He had loved them all.
This was the thought he had been wrestling with the entire night, the one he
could do nothing about, the one he could not placate. He had made a decision
out of necessity, and had killed four young women's dreams in the process.
It was a decision that needed to be made, he argued. If he hadn't, he would
have just prolonged each girl's suffering, as he remained safe in his
indecision. It was inevitable; he couldn't be with all five of them. In the
end, he had taken the most logical course. As a result, he now lived a perfect
life while his soul wasted away beneath his Imperial vestments.
It wasn't that he'd made the wrong choice. He loved Ayeka intensely, gave as
much of himself to her as he could. He hated to imagine life without her.
The problem was, he could say that about each one of the girls. He'd wanted to
make each one of them happy, but found no path or possibility for it.
Tenchi turned his face up to the sky, allowing himself to submerge in his
memories. God, how he missed them, how he wished things could go back to the
way they were. He wished he could hold them, tell them he still loved them,
that it was a mistake he hated himself for making, but he'd had no other option.
He imagined himself with each one of them, imagined what they were doing
tonight...
His throat tightened as faces and voices reappeared in his mind. He wondered if
they hated him now, if they cried at night like he did, if they felt as hollow
and lost as he felt.
Swallowing hard against the ache in his throat, he whispered his apologies to
the sky as a single tear fell, unnoticed by the rain.
--------------------------------
Feedback to fish_stomp@yahoo.com. Thanks for reading.
of this fic. Various quotes and the concept for this fic are taken from a song
of the same name, a beautiful, intense melody by Moxy Früvous.
------------------
Oú sont passées toutes nos nuits de rêve?
Aide-moi á les retrouver...
Tu disais qu't'allais toujours m'aimer.
The Emperor of Jurai was surrounded by beauty in his life-his incredible,
majestic palace with its sprawling, well-trimmed gardens and fountains. He had
power, more power than he could have imagined, and more wealth than could be
amassed in ten lifetimes. There were legions of people at his service, willing
to fetch, cook, scrub, trim, protect, inform, mend or entertain if asked. He
had spaceships named after him, he knew the goddesses personally, he had his
face on the Juraian dollar. He had everything.
He had a wife, also. A soft, elegant woman who was luminescent with beauty and
whose eyes glowed with intelligence and wisdom beyond her age. She was
sleeping, warm and perfect in the giant canopied bed they shared, dreaming of
him, radiating love while she slept. He could wake her right now, take her in
his arms, and she would willingly give herself to him.
Instead, Tenchi Masaki shuffled blindly through the darkened halls of his
palace. His heavy, crimson bathrobe hung open, the velvet dragging on the floor
behind him as his bare feet slapped the exquisite marble floor. The summer sky
was raining outside, but this deep in the palace the outdoors seemed another
world, distant and unreal. Tenchi prowled towards this other world, slowly and
thoughtlessly making his way to the third-floor balcony.
Faces flashed through his memory as he fought to block the thoughts from
progressing in their mad ballet through his mind. He saw images, silhouettes of
young and nubile women. He struggled with them, grasping at the images and
pushing them back into inactivity. He fought the hardest against a distant,
slim, catlike form outlined in moonlight.
Squeezing his eyes closed, Tenchi paused in his catatonic walk and turned his
face away. He felt so lost tonight, in these dark halls and rooms with their
golden tapestries and lack of memories. Finally, he managed to wrench the
visions from his mind's eye. Then the voices came.
There was singing, and laughing, and silly, stupid jokes. There were friendly
arguments, not-so-friendly arguments, apologies, confessions, and tears. He
ignored these, too-he had resolved to be happy. He had all that he could want,
all that he could ever ask for. He pushed forward again through the palace
corridor, scuffing his feet on the cool tile.
He didn't know why so much of him felt hollow. He had always been an optimistic
person, set on hope and possibility. Everywhere he looked, he saw opportunities
for things to improve, for more people to be happy, content. But recently he
had been experiencing a nagging emptiness, an oppressive hopelessness. Memories
were manifesting themselves more and more frequently. He usually relished his
memories, thoughts of his past and friends, but now they carried with them a
sense of longing, a feeling of having lost something very palpable and real,
like a limb or a child. Something so completely a part of him that he could
hardly survive without it.
The passageways flooded with the static of a thunderstorm as Tenchi neared the
end of the west wing of the palace. A cool breeze that smelled of ozone batted
his robe back as the enigma of rain crept upon his senses. He heard thunder,
distant and quiet, like the purring of a giant, sleepy cat. Far-off flickers of
lighting briefly illuminated the low, uniformly gray clouds.
He stood for a moment in the balcony's doorway, leaning against a gilded door,
observing. The air was cold, for summer, and his skin tightened and goosebumped
from the dying wind. Rain had always filled him with a sense of peace, and it
seemed to satiate his memories for a few moments, he hoped perhaps putting them
to rest for the evening.
He didn't know how long he stood there, his mind growing numb as this universal
peace washed through him, but when he broke from his trance the rain had
stopped. He blinked for a moment, cycling the newly cleaned air through his
bloodstream, then stepped carefully out onto the balcony.
Cool water had pooled on the tiles, and the bottom of his robe was soaked by the
time he reached the railing. He leaned against its wet surface, a chill seeping
through his nightclothes as he stared into the darkness. The moon peered
briefly from behind a cloud, as if checking if it was safe for it to return.
Another thin cloud passed over its surface, and then it was naked, hanging low
and bright in the sky.
His memories stirred in their slumber, responding violently to the new
moonlight. Everything Tenchi had suppressed rushed in air bubbles to the
surface, overwhelming him and forcing him to combat a desperate burning in his
eyes.
He had loved them all.
This was the thought he had been wrestling with the entire night, the one he
could do nothing about, the one he could not placate. He had made a decision
out of necessity, and had killed four young women's dreams in the process.
It was a decision that needed to be made, he argued. If he hadn't, he would
have just prolonged each girl's suffering, as he remained safe in his
indecision. It was inevitable; he couldn't be with all five of them. In the
end, he had taken the most logical course. As a result, he now lived a perfect
life while his soul wasted away beneath his Imperial vestments.
It wasn't that he'd made the wrong choice. He loved Ayeka intensely, gave as
much of himself to her as he could. He hated to imagine life without her.
The problem was, he could say that about each one of the girls. He'd wanted to
make each one of them happy, but found no path or possibility for it.
Tenchi turned his face up to the sky, allowing himself to submerge in his
memories. God, how he missed them, how he wished things could go back to the
way they were. He wished he could hold them, tell them he still loved them,
that it was a mistake he hated himself for making, but he'd had no other option.
He imagined himself with each one of them, imagined what they were doing
tonight...
His throat tightened as faces and voices reappeared in his mind. He wondered if
they hated him now, if they cried at night like he did, if they felt as hollow
and lost as he felt.
Swallowing hard against the ache in his throat, he whispered his apologies to
the sky as a single tear fell, unnoticed by the rain.
--------------------------------
Feedback to fish_stomp@yahoo.com. Thanks for reading.