Section I

.part one.

Incoming message—9:20:56 UTC

I feel I need to do something. We've hunted whales for more than 5000 years, but the whaling industry got so out of control we passed international rules and legal protections to regulate whale killings. Even so, commercial whaling hasn't completely stopped. On top of that, with the progression of climate change and the upset of migration routes, whales are in serious need of help. We have a responsibility to help our fellow species and I am more than willing to stand up for the cause.

Outgoing message—9:23:09 UTC

I think your commitment is noble. I am just warning you that not everyone will see it this way. I do not doubt you know what you are doing.


The actress was difficult to read on a good day. The young woman revealed little on her face, and though she would not hesitate to speak her mind when the moment called for it, she mostly kept her opinions to herself. She channeled an expressive, outgoing personality in front of the camera, but her true nature was entirely different. Her most devoted fan base would likely not recognize her if they ran into her on the street or in a shop. Her chilly demeanor off the screen was solemn and intimidating. She did not make friends easily, nor did she have much interest in the social events her manager set up for her. She only attended out of obligation. She could easily fake a smile and feign an interest if something were required for her job.

She trusted few people and formed friendships with still fewer. Most acquaintances saw her as means to promote themselves with her fame. Many resented her success as though her true personality made her unworthy of the rewards for her hard work. Their pettiness was not worth her time or concern. She never actively chose to be a lone wolf, though she supposed she never put in too much effort to get close to others. If the friendships were meant to happen, they would naturally occur, in her opinion. They could not be faked. What was the point of having friend if she had to play a role to be around them? She would rather be alone.

The director yelled about the placement of set pieces. The actress hated working with directors who were quick to yell. Patience was the key to getting others to like you and do what you wanted. A director who did not understand productions were a product of everyone's labors—not just one person's vision—was not a pleasant director to work with. However, she supposed she would simply need to tolerate the director's temper. After all, she sat in a rickety set chair while an artist erased her face under layers of heavy stage makeup with no one to blame for the situation but herself.

Typically, she would not take a role for this kind of production. If the job were based in Japan, she might entertain the idea to break up her regular routine, but that was home, and the deserts of Nevada were not. She traveled across the Pacific to take this supporting role for a second-rate, unknown, breakout director that never really thought she would accept the offer. They were flabbergasted when she turned up unannounced to the auditions. No one could explain why a famous idol like Zakuro Fujiwara would go so far for the role. For the actress the answer was simple: she needed to get out of Japan for a while, needed new scenery that could distract her from haunting memories. Her gut instincts kept her on high alert navigating the city of Tokyo, waiting for a call to arms to fight a new threat. She was anxious, tense, anticipating the worst around every corner. She saw flashes of buildings in shambles, heard screams of victims she wouldn't reach in time to save from injury. She was always alert and ready to pounce into a new battle. It made her ill to her stomach and she had to get away.

Things were ok for some time while she still worked in the park café in Tokyo during her off hours. She thought it funny how she looked forward to her shift at the café even after her busy day schedule, especially given her initial reluctance to moonlight as a waitress with a team forced together by happenstance. She was not like the other girls who worked at the café. She was older and had not grown up in a world like theirs. At the beginning, their involvement with the Mew Project was the only common factor among the café employees.

The owners of the café started plans to initiate the Mew Project many years before they implemented it. Keiichiro Akasaka and Ryou Shirogane – scientists turned bakers – tested the experiment before they initiated the project, which was perhaps the only saving grace of the plan. Of the two, only Ryou possessed the correct genome makeup to be affected by the experiment, and so he volunteered as guinea pig to test the project on human specimen. The scientists deemed the test a success and broadened their scope to find others who would be similarly suitable for the experiment. When they discovered the girls genetic matches, the two scientists initiated the Mew Project without a moment's hesitation. Ethically speaking, the men should have been thrown in jail for unauthorized human experimentation, on minors no less! but the ends in this instance justified the means.

Keiichiro and Ryou pulled the girls into their fight and acted as the girls' guides throughout their mission. The project involved the infusion of specific animal genomes into the human DNA structure through a short blast of radioactive energy. The DNA mutation process would only affect those with compatible DNA sequences, resulting in the creation of a small targeted team. It would be difficult to defend the dubious nature of the men's project if it's objective were anything short of the protection of the planet from forces set upon wiping the human race from existence. As such, no one ever looked too deeply into how the super-human team of young people who called themselves Tokyo Mew Mew came into being. There were many speculations that they were aliens like the enemy they set out to fight, using the Earth as a battleground to wage their war, or perhaps spirits tasked to defend the planet from devastation. Most speculative theories were laughable.

The designated leader of the team was a middle schooler names Ichigo Momomiya who worried about her boyfriend more than her own future. She was the first to show signs from Keiichiro and Ryou's DNA manipulation. Ichigo's DNA fused with that of the Iriomote Cat – a leopard cat exclusive to the Japanese island or Iriomote, about the size of a domestic cat. The mutation enabled Ichigo to transform into Mew Strawberry – a fighter dressed in a pink jumper dress with black cat ears and tail. She adopted the cat's gifts of balance, agility, and speed, though she also inherited the species' primarily nocturnal tendencies.

Next in line was a rich ballerina named Mint Aizawa who slacked chronically on her work and stubbornly resisted her fighting role as part of the team for a long time. Mint's DNA fused with that of the Blue Lorikeet – a small, blue bird from French Polynesia and the Cook Islands. The mutation enabled Mint to transform into Mew Mint – a fighter in a blue leotard with a small pair of blue bird wings that allowed her to fly. She incorporated the bird's speed and agility with her grace as a dancer to become a strong adversary in the sky.

Third was a kind, quiet high schooler named Lettuce Midorikawa who preferred the quiet of the library to standing in the spotlight. Lettuce's DNA fused with that of the Finless Porpoise – a sea mammal found mostly in the Korean peninsula and the Yellow and East China Seas. Her mutation enabled Lettuce to transform into Mew Lettuce – a fighter in a green bathing suit with the ability to swim expertly, hold her breath underwater for extended periods, and fuse her legs together into a powerful tail. Lettuce utilized her personal predisposition for peaceful conflict resolution alongside her fighting abilities during battles.

The youngest of the team was an unfalteringly energetic kid named Pudding Fong who smiled through any hardship, but whose eyes betrayed a tough life as head of house at far too young. Pudding's DNA fused with that of the Golden Tamarin Monkey – a small New World monkey native to the coastal forests of Brazil that got its name from the bright reddish orange extra-long fur around its face and ears. The mutation enabled Pudding to transform into Mew Pudding – a fighter dressed in a yellow and orange gymnast's outfit with monkey ears and tail. They possessed the fantastic and largely inexplicable ability to see the best in others, even enemies, and their powers to immobilize enemies on the field matched that personal trait well.

Lastly came the actress herself, a child star for her looks who hid a dark past with her family and the harsh realities of show business behind superficial smiles. Her DNA fused with that of the American Grey Wolf – a specialized member of the canis genus with morphological adaptations to hunt large prey, a gregarious nature, and highly advanced expressive behavior. The mutation enabled Zakuro to transform into Mew Pomegranate – a mysterious fighter dressed in a purple crop top, hot pants, and tall boots. She utilized the wolf's canine-sharp perceptive senses and a trick ability to jump dimensional plane with a flick of her wrist.

Such a mishmash team was anything but likely to function. Yet, despite their many differences, the team connected with one another. Zakuro felt happy when the rest of the team was happy. She smiled at their antics – real smiles she could feel. She acted like a mentor when it was necessary, a guide, half-convincing herself of the advice she gave the others, coming to accept her own responsibilities in the fight as she helped the others recognize their potentials. Whether or not she had asked to join, Zakuro was a member of the team, and the team was vitally important in the protection of the Earth. She needed to rise to the occasion or to quit, so she chose to rise. Her determination convinced Mint to fight when she lost sight of her importance, when she lost hope. Saying the words convinced Zakuro too. Each member of the team was crucial and important to the fight. Each of them was making a difference. They had a purpose. They protected their species. They protected the Earth. They would win the battle in the end, and so they would have to hold tight to their hope. The tunnel had golden light at the end if they could only reach it.

For the first time in her life, Zakuro found a place she truly belonged. The team accepted her for who she was personally, not for who she used to be, who she pretended to be on the screen, or what she could bring them in monetary value. The team wanted her as she was. They made it through the fight together, each supporting the rest right to the bitter end. The team kept working for the café even after the battle had been won because they enjoyed each other's company, and though the café was intended to be only a cover for their true operations, it had become very popular in Tokyo for its cakes and tea and cute waitresses. It was a safe space. They were a chosen family, a pack, but as all things, it did not last.

The change in the group began slowly and then happened all at once. Ichigo and her boyfriend packed for England to participate in a program to study environmental sciences and species conservations, largely focusing on protection. Mint got in to an elite, renowned school of ballet in France as had always been her dream. Lettuce pulled away from the café gradually as she focused more seriously on her classes and exams, her eyes set on university. Pudding's father returned from his long training in China, occupying most of Pudding's time, energy, and attention after being away for so long. Even Keiichiro and Ryou shifted focus from extraterrestrial threats to human-made damage, eventually shutting down the café to pursue their other interests and spend time in the field. They all began to move on with their lives, leaving their time as Earth's defenders in the past. The actress tried to stay in touch, but as they became busier, communication dwindled until it stopped altogether.

The city of Tokyo made the actress sad. Before long everything was once again flashing lights and masks like it was before she joined the Mews. Everything was fake. Fabricated. An act. So, like her friends, she too moved forward with her life, accepting jobs that kept her busy, always looking for anything to get her out of Japan, even dingy little roles for second-rate producers and unknown directors looking to jumpstart their careers.

In the public eye, she suffocated. The media kept on top of her whenever she had work. She was on camera more than she was off camera. Her manager pushed her aggressively to take on role after role, interview after interview. He got it in his head to make her a known name worldwide. His motivation had nothing to do with her. He was interested in being the name known for making her into the star she would be. So, she played her part in his scheme, donned her professional mask. She sometimes wondered when she had created Zakuro Fujiwara, the idol. Where did that woman come from? The personality was contradiction. The idol was her, but not her. The idol was the glamorized, exaggerated, good parts of her personality that she might very well have willed into being out of pure necessity. Quickly, she grew cold, uncaring, and bitter beneath the smiling mask. She had no friends any longer who knew her beyond the idol façade she fabricated. She was trapped in her mask without breathing room to lower it even a minute.

Around that time, the actress met Yuki Takoma.

She first met him as she arrived for a meeting in the agency office building with her then-manager. She entered the foyer, but did not know where the meeting would be held or how to get there. Her manager was nowhere in sight, nor any representative of the agency come to collect her. She must have arrived earlier than she planned. There was a small office off the foyer, the door ajar. She thought to inquire there. The name plate beside the door read in thick black type: MR. YURI TAKAMA – a typo he never worked to correct. Inside, behind the desk sat a man with thinning hair, more gray than black. He slumped slightly in his chair, pulling at his thinning hair by the fistful with desperate hands. Before she could stop herself, Zakuro invaded his office space, forgetting her idol mask in the doorway. It took him only a moment to recognize her. He hurried to make himself presentable, to apologize for bothering her with trivial matters, and for allowing himself to present so poorly. He hurried to find her information and direct her to her meeting. Zakuro watched in amazement as the efficient man worked. Initially, he hardly seemed the type who could handle the stress of filing paperwork much less working in a front-end office for an acting agency, but quickly proved himself more than capable for the job. As she proceeded to find the meeting a few floors above as per the man's instructions, the actress glanced back to see the man had reassumed his crisis posture. He looked frustrated, like someone whose potential was wasted behind a desk. She entered the elevator, the door sliding smoothly shut before her. In her final peek at the man, he had adopted a noble appearance as he jotted down a note.

That day Zakuro fired her manager. He was too aggressive, worked her too hard. She needed a break, a fresh start. There was a point where distracting oneself from reality through work started to take its toll on the individual, and her manager pushed her beyond that point. The agency would not lose her business. They received a cut in royalties from every performance and appearance, every role or reality show she took. She brought in money which gave her some sway to be choosey. She made demands and they tried to meet them within reason. She was clear beyond a doubt that she wanted a new manager. Someone real, not a mask who viewed her only as means to a larger paycheck. She wanted someone who understood she was a person and needed breaks just like anyone else. She wanted someone who sympathized with the pressure she was under. Someone who did not hold themselves aloof from the stress of being in show business, looking down on her like an unpleasant God because she could not handle it as gracefully. Someone capable and who understood the balancing act she lived in. She wanted someone like the graying man who pulled out his hair in the building's front office; someone in touch with the anxiety and stress she felt moving around Tokyo; someone who understood how she needed to put on her personality to get things done efficiently.

The assistant director of the agency laughed out loud on hearing the actress' request for the man from the front office. She laughed until she realized the young woman was not joking with her request. Takoma was reassigned by the end of the day.

The director yelled at a lighting crew member, jarring the actress from her thoughts. She shifted her attention from the makeup mirror to the stage area. The director was gesturing angrily, and the crewmember gestured right back. She sighed. The director was quickly becoming intolerable. She had already sent her manager after the man once to comment on his anger. Takoma still looked a little shell shocked from the experience. He stood off to the side in the shadows of the stage, arms crossed. He stood close enough that he could be right by her side in a moment if necessary. Takoma met her eye and jumped to attention. Sure enough, he was by her side instantly, leaning down to discuss her discomfort. He must have noticed a tell on her face to suggest her sour mood. She was rather difficult to read normally, but Takoma was a man who paid close attention to details. He never seemed to have much trouble knowing what she thought.

"I can speak with the director again, though I sense his mood isn't the only thing bothering you," Takoma whispered to her softly. She appreciated his quiet nature as opposed to that of his loud and forceful predecessor. Her lips twitched at the edges as she inclined her head towards his, not quite facing him directly. His arms were crossed over his chest. His right hand pet minutely at his left bicep as if to reassure himself. She touched his forearm with her knuckles and the motion stopped abruptly. She leaned closer to hiss a whisper in return, rather conspiratorial.

"I'm feeling a change of scenery would be nice. Perhaps I should take a walk?"

Takoma met her eyes again, searching for her meaning. He sighed as though defeated, closing his eyes as he straightened his back again. The director yelled for actors to take their places. She did not move. She was not the lead role. They did not absolutely need her to finish the filming for today. Her role could be finished tomorrow without much of a hiccup in the production of the director's movie. She scratched absently at her makeup mask, smearing the careful job that hid her natural features. The director yelled at an extra as they took to the set.

"Yes, I think I will take one now."

She easily stripped out of her loose costume, grabbing her street clothes from nearby. She pulled on a pair of fitted jeans, slipping into her regular shoes as she made for the exit. The dark plum shirt was barely yanked down over her torso before she was out the door into the studio lobby. Takoma pet his arm again. He learned since becoming her manager that she was not one to hesitate once she decided on an action. This would not be the first time she walked out on a day's filming, nor likely her last. He ran a hand through his graying hair, noting how much more it had thinned just in the time since he agreed to be her manager and relinquish his desk job with the agency. He could not reject a personal request to be a star's manager when she requested him by name in the same day they met. Though he quickly learned she was not the same person in private as the public eye, Takoma was not unhappy in his work with her. It was stressful work, and he may have chosen the wrong career path, but he was not unhappy. Besides, he hated the desk job and the actress' impulsive actions kept things interesting.

"I apologize for the inconvenience, Mr. Director, but another of Miss Fujiwara's projects requires her attention today and so we will be taking our leave," Takoma called in return to the director's shout for the actress to come on stage. He spoke with calm, careful conviction. "I will ensure we arrive tomorrow in time to begin shooting. Thank you."

As he followed the actress out, the loud sounds from the set suggested the director upset a table or chair. Or both. Takoma did not look forward to the phone call he would surely receive from the production team. Zakuro could be a handful when the mood struck her. However, she was not easily influenced by others advice or opinion. She reached her own conclusions and acted accordingly. Without a particularly strong case, she could not be easily swayed from her decisions. Takoma learned it easier to roll with her choices and control the damage than to try to hold her to a different course.

The sky outside was clear, the weather pleasant, though hot already so early in the Spring. Takoma shook open a pair of shades, protecting his eyes from both the sun and curious onlookers who might recognize him as a manager. Zakuro stood close to the exit door, her purple shades securely in place. Her hip was cocked slightly to the side as she examined her cellphone screen intently. Takoma waited for her to speak first, a tactic he usually found successful in urging her to explain her actions more fully.

"I'll make it up to you, Takoma," Zakuro promised as she scrolled through options on her phone screen. She tilted her head to glance at him sideways. Her shocking eyes peeked at him from behind the tint of her shades. On anyone else the expression and posture might be construed as playful or flirtatious. On Zakuro, it was sharp and calculating. She straightened up, popping some joints in her back before turning her phone screen to him. "There's a few small coffee shops nearby."

Zakuro studied her managers face as she stirred objectively too much sugar into a cup of coffee she ordered for him at the corner café. Takoma slouched in his chair, head leaning back, neck craned over the back of the seat. He pressed the inside of his elbow over his eyes and sat perfectly motionless. He could already hear the loud and angry complaints he would have to handle when the director and producers would surely call later. She was not required to hang around the set once her filming for the day was complete, but as she was already prepared for another scene when she decided to walk, they would surely be annoyed. As her manager, the responsibility to ensure she behaved during a session fell fully to him. The situation would also be different if it were the first time Zakuro had decided to cut her filming day short. Now, her behavior just suggested he had little control over her.

Takoma pulled his arm away from his face and forced himself to sit upright again. He accepted the sweetened coffee Zakuro slid across the table. He sighed before taking a long sip of the drink. The actress watched him carefully as his face pulled into a slightly unpleasant curl. Too much sugar? He replaced the cup on the tabletop, turning his tired eyes on her again. The large bags beneath Takoma's eyes always made him look much older. Zakuro held his gaze from behind her purple sunglasses. Not breaking eye contact, Takoma reached for the sugar dish, adding a few more spoonfuls. Not enough sugar. Zakuro's lips twitched in amusement. Takoma took another sip, leaning back again in his chair.

As the rim of the cup lowered again, Takoma's tired eyes bore into hers. He didn't need to speak for his question to be clear. Zakuro sighed, looking down at her own cup of coffee. She stirred the contents, buying for time. She wondered sometimes how much of her thoughts she could share with her manager. How much would be revealing too much about her life and her secrets? How much did he already know? Takoma could always read her thoughts easily. It was difficult to judge how much she could share or how much he knew, and it was dangerous to inquire. Zakuro considered many times revealing some of her larger secrets to Takoma. She entertained the idea of explaining the odd mark around her bellybutton, describing in general terms what happened to her when she was still a teenager. She trusted him with the information. At least, she thought she did, though clearly not enough to carry through with a proper disclosure. The possibility of an accidental revelation on her secret was also not impossible, though no such occasion had arisen yet. It would be better to explain the situation to Takoma before an accident of that sort, but her tongue resisted the words.

It was silly, Zakuro thought, to worry about her mutation when the topic at hand was her pattern of flaky behavior when it came to the filming for this production she herself had chosen. Yet, when Takoma looked to her for an explanation, Zakuro's first inclination was to come clean about her past. Perhaps it had to do with the nagging feeling in her gut that any day now, she would be called to arms once more. She had hoped leaving Japan would resolve the feeling, but unfortunately, it seemed to grow daily. Maybe that was part of the reason she started misbehaving on set. She built a pattern of mood-riven walk outs in the case she needed to leave and rush into battle. It would not stand out as odd behavior if she regularly walked out on filming days. But she could not provide Takoma with an explanation of that sort without first explaining why Zakuro Fujiwara—actor, model, and career idol—would be called upon to fight in the first place. Takoma would recognize her transformation instantly, of course. After all, everyone in Japan had seen the skilled team of superheroines who fought off the monster chimeras five years back. However, knowing of the team was different than knowing who truly acted on the team, and Zakuro could not be sure of Takoma's reaction. She also could not say what reaction she thought would really be the best.

"I don't like the director," Zakuro stated bluntly without inflection in her voice. She grit her teeth slightly, the guilty knowing in her gut spiking as Takoma took a deep breath. To his merit, he did not roll his eyes. It was not the reason she wanted to claim for her behavior. The way his weight settled in the chair tipped her off to his suspicion. He had seen something in her eyes, on her face, in her demeanor. He knew she was hiding something. He always knew she was hiding something, but he never pressed her on it. It was a fact that always tugged at the back of her mind. Zakuro turned her eyes away, staring intently into her cup, innocently fiddling with handle. Takoma still said nothing, taking a slow sip from his coffee, and giving her an opportunity to explain herself properly. Zakuro made no move to do so, her options still arguing in her mind. It was not uncommon for Zakuro and Takoma to sit in standoff like this for some minutes. As always, Takoma new he would be the first to break the silence. After all, his curiosity would get the better of him. Besides, it was part of his job to entertain the actress' fancy.

"Alright, I'll bite," Takoma conceded, carefully placing his coffee cup back on the table between them. He fixed the actress with his tired gaze again before he continued. Even though she did not look up from her drink, Zakuro could feel his eyes focus on her, trying to see past her skull and examine her brain, her intentions. She let a small smile slip onto her face. That's what she liked most about Takoma: he never acted as though he would not one day crack her open. Zakuro could believe it. One day he would see past her shields. One day she would share her secrets with him. But today was not that day. "You normally put up with snippy directors like him, no matter how rude. What is it about this one in particular you can't tolerate?"

Zakuro shrugged minutely, picking up her cup and taking a sip. Her deep purple eyes—enhanced by the purple tint of her sunglasses—flicked to Takoma over the rim of her cup. Her eyes were bright, and they could surely sway any impressionable person. Takoma was not one such person. Zakuro rolled her eyes, replacing her cup on the table in front of her. She tossed her silky hair, focusing on something across the shop rather than look into the eyes of the man seated across from her. She could never look at him when she lied. "I regret taking this role."

Takoma was silent for a moment, waiting for the actress to continue, but no further explanation was forthcoming. It appeared he had lost her attention, but he could still discern the way her brow creased ever so slightly between her sculpted eyebrows. She had something more on her mind, but he would not push. He never did. She would tell him in due time if it were anything he needed to know. He finished off his coffee, considering their next move. She would have to complete the film to get paid as per her contract with the production team. The final filming would only take a week to finish at most with minimal interruptions. At the moment, she did not have another job lined up to follow. Usually, Takoma would take this time nearing the end of a job to set up her next appearance or role. Truth be told, he had indeed already started looking at the openings available, compiling a list of jobs he thought she might be interested in. Now, however, Takoma wondered if the best next move would be to take a bit of a break. Zakuro had been working hard. She almost had no down time between her responsibilities, even though he was careful to avoid packing her schedule as her previous manager would. Zakuro needed a vacation. Zakuro deserved a break after putting up with the director of this production for as long as she had. Just a short one, long enough to relax, but short enough the actress wouldn't complain. Maybe they would just take a detour heading home.


Outgoing message—5:43:29 UTC

I read an article recently that made me think about you. The article focuses on the North American Right Whale, and it said thirteen of these whales have died this year out of an estimated population of only four thousand and fifty. Researchers suspect a few were hit by ships, some were caught in fishing gear, while the cause of death for others is still unknown.

Incoming message—5:44:15 UTC

I think I read the same article. Not my section of the world, but it's still unfortunate and I hope more is done to step up protections before the species becomes extinct. I'm not certain how I could help from over here, but if you hear anything, I'd love to get involved.

Outgoing message—5:44:52 UTC

I will keep an ear out for any information.


Words—5.504