Before you read my fic, I would like to say a few things. First off, this is my attempt at a sequel to G Gundam, and the plot is still rapidly evolving. Also, don't be surprised if you are confused at first, because it will take a while to reveal everything. Most of the main characters are connected to the series somehow, but I'm not going to reveal how for a while, although I've made it pretty easy to at least guess.
I'd like to thank all of my friends for helping me work out the kinks and even just for listening to my ideas (you know who you are!)
Oh, one more thing—the title is Japanese for a reason. I didn't just pull random words outta nowhere. XD And I realize that it's awkward Japanese, so if you speak it my sincerest apologies (it was the only phrase I could memorize with the same meaning.)
Anyway… onward!
- SporkGoddess
Doshite Ja Nai
"Damn, damn, damn!"
The exclamation hadn't been very loud, but it resonated through the area in the same fashion as a pin dropping in a silent room—only a pin dropping wouldn't have as much danger of alerting others as did the swearing.
The dastardly cursing culprit was unaware of this, however; she was too focused on the reason she had said it in the first place. Despite the importance that she keep walking, she paused for a minute to slip her stockinged foot out of the painful high heels that encased them.
"Why do they insist that I wear these damned things?" She muttered, making sure to keep her voice at a whisper this time.However, the second that it took to say that was more than enough time allowed for her to rest, and she was forced to step back into the shoe and continue on her way.
The girl referred to as Midori would have far preferred to wear her normal, albeit comfortable shoes right at this moment. In fact, she had brought it up; pointing out that she'd be more efficient if she were comfortable. But, no, apparently since this was a government building, she was supposed to look her best and "blend in with the crowd."
However, for Midori, this was easier said than done. A nice dress suit and high heels were a good disguise, but one also had to act comfortable in what would be normal-day attire for a worker in this building, and she certainly wasn't doing that. In fact, it was surprising that no one had noticed her vehement denunciation of pumps; but, they were probably too busy (or stupid, she thought savagely,) to really pay any attention to her.
Finally, she spotted him, She knew him even from behind; his bright red hair would have stood out in any crowd. He was her "target," as one might say. Actually, no; today she was just here to converse, not convince. She smoothed her dark hair down and walked up to him.
"The grass is green; spring really must be here." She said, probably a little more loudly than she should have. But, either way it worked; the man nodded to her.
"I heard the birds chirping as well."
She smiled, trying to seem casual. "Well, it certainly is nice to hear that. But I'm afraid that I'm here on a more austere term."
"Oh?"
"I am on business from your native country, Neo France. They have a problem that needs to be addressed by the council."
"Very well then, let's step into my office for a bit."
She followed him into a small room, taken up by a very tidy desk featuring stacked papers and a few framed photos. There was also a elegant leather chair, which Midori sat down upon.
"My, you've grown, Midori… or should I say, Azami?"
Azami glanced around nervously, then whispered. "Are you sure we're not being monitored?"
"No—Neo France has the trust of all. They know that we are too honorable to do anything."
"Except for this." She laughed."
"Mademoiselle, we are doing no more than proposing a few ideas. That is the idea of the council, is it not?"
"True." Azami nodded.
"I never would have imagined my next meeting would be with the girl I sometimes babysat." He remarked, twirling a few strands of hair.
"Enough, this is not the time or the place to be reminiscing. I'm here on business, Tori."
The redhead sighed. "You're not at all unlike your father, you know."
Her face hardened. "You have no idea how many times I hear that, and how every time the urge to punch the person who said it gets stronger and stronger.
He chuckled, which annoyed her even more. She decided that she'd better get this over with, before she gave in to desire and severely hurt him.
"Anyway," (She said this word more pointedly than she probably should have,) "I'm here to check up on how the proposal's coming."
"So diligent. I finished it."
"Great. When do you plan on presenting it?"
He sighed. "Frankly, I don't know if I will. It didn't work the first two times."
"Third time's a charm."
"My position could be at risk because of this."
"Excuse me, Tori, but are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"First off, it's George. Second, I might be."
"Apparently you're not Tori, because Tori would not give up on our objective! None of us would!" She almost screamed this, she was so angry.
"Listen to yourself, Azami. You're acting like it's a cult. I realize that you have strong feelings about this, but being so extreme will get you nowhere."
The calmness of his voice immensely bothered her. Hell, his whole attitude bothered her. How dare he abandon them like this!
"Are you saying that you no longer wish to be one of us?" She asked in a low, bitter voice.
"It's not that, it's just… I don't want to jeopardize my position for something that probably won't even work. We need another plan."
"Oh, and we all know how easy that is!" Azami snapped.
Apparently she'd hit home, because George stood up. "You may be my friend's daughter, but I will not be talked to in that tone. If you continue to act this way, I will have no choice but to remove myself from your project."
"Daughter? The closest thing that I have to a father is Kuroi." Azami growled.
"I can see that." His voice was tranquil now, almost soothing. "You go back to him, then, and tell him that his daughter successfully chased another opportunity away."
"I'll do that! Tori is dead to me!" The woman snarled and stood up. She walked—or moreso hobbled—briskly away.
A day and another tedious trip later, Azami was finally back in Neo Japan. Walking through the streets of Shinjuku was never a fun activity; as poverty clung to even the richest communities of the city. This was because of the Thirteenth Treaty, created in the same year in which Azami had been born. Devised by delegates of every nation, it essentially had placed blame for the chaos and destruction that had taken place in the 13th Gundam Fight upon Neo Japan, which was the country of the Devil Gundam's creation and was also somewhat responsible for its uprisal. However, the other countries involved had only been forced to pay fines. In Neo Japan, not only was the prime minister replaced, but the country had to pay abysmal fines and was pretty much reduced to being one level above a protectorate. The other countries had chipped in on reconstruction, but after that had demanded that, in addition to the fines, Neo Japan pay for the damages inflicted by the Devil Gundam. The treaty had also abolished the Gundam Fight in total, instead forming the council that Azami had just visited and of which George was a member, to solve disputes and generally rule the universe.
Azami had not been born in Neo Japan, rather Neo Hong Kong (although ethnically she was Japanese), but anyone who visited the ravaged Neo Japan would understand why she'd made the decision to stand up for a country that wasn't even her birthplace. (Perhaps that was why tourism was at an all-time low, she mused in a spur of dark humor.) She, like the other members, had joined the Doshite Ja Nai organization (DJN) in hopes of bringing back the Gundam Fight, which may have desecrated the Earth but at least was more effective than a group of squabbling politicians.
It was underground, small, and had low funds, but every loyal citizen of Neo Japan supported the group, even if they did not necessarily want the Fight back. It was a ray of light in a dismal place; after all, one of the objectives of the DJN was to give Neo Japan back its dignity and rights.
Finally, Azami arrived at her destination. The headquarters for the DJN were small and well-hidden in a remote section of Neo Japan. Unfortunately, there were low funds (even if they had donations, usually it was not monetary substance as the value was at an all-time low) and security wasn't the best, but they made do with what they could, and so far things had been well-kept within the walls of the building. Someone always was standing watch as well, just in case a tourist accidentally stumbled in. There had been no actual penetrations by enemies, namely because the group was not a very large threat yet. Therefore, once the guard recognized her, it was with ease that Azami entered the main room. She smiled at the sense of comfort that overwhelmed her as she did so, like she had just returned home.
"Ahh, welcome back, Midori. How did it go?" Right now Akai was on watch duty. Akai was a year older than Azami and also the only other female member of the group, which automatically caused the two girls to be close, as they shared a room. However, the secrecy of the DJN forbid that they know too much about anyone, so Azami didn't even know Akai's real name, just as she knew Azami as Midori and nothing else.
"I don't want to talk about it." Azami muttered, feeling depression set in. What would she tell Kuroi when he asked her the same question? She had pretty much single-handedly lost the group's only connection to the Council.
"Oh dear." Akai laughed, running a hand through her blond hair. "That is not a good sign."
"Yeah."
"Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news… but you're supposed to see Kuroi right away."
"Oh, no." Azami groaned. Akai gave her a curious yet sympathetic look, but then pushed her towards the small partition that served as an office.
He was sitting at the cheap wooden desk, drumming his hands on the rotting wood. A peeling sticker with "Kuroi, Head Counselor" written on it was stuck to one corner, next to a faded photograph. Unlike George's desk, papers were cluttered and a bed occupied one corner. Not very professional, but if they ever needed to make a good impression, they would simply move the single piece of furniture.
Unlike the comfy leather chairs Azami had grown rather accustomed to from her trip, the ones in the office were upright and of hard plastic. She sat down without complaining, though, since she didn't want Kuroi any madder at her than he'd have to be.
"Before I begin, Midori, do you have anything for me?" She tried to study his face; he winked, but that gave nothing away about his mood. By "anything" he meant cigarettes, and Kuroi would have sold his soul if tobacco was involved. A running joke among the DJN was that half of the reason he had people travel abroad was so they could pick him up a few packs at prices that weren't ridiculously inflated.
Midori smirked at his eager expression, and pulled the two packs that she had managed to procure from her purse.
"Not the best quality, but it'll manage." She said, holding the two boxes out to him. He reached over and took them, handling them as one might handle a glass ornament or an ancient artifact.
"Nice work. Unfortunately, it appears that was the only successful part."
She froze. "You mean you've already heard?"
"I have. Midori, we'll have to stop sending you if you can't be diplomatic." He frowned
"I can, sir, really. It's just that he was being stubborn."
Kuroi laughed. "And of course, you weren't."
"The sarcasm is not appreciated." Azami informed him. He rolled his eyes.
"Midori, honey, you're lucky that we're not turning you out onto the streets. We're back at Square One because of you."
That statement should have deterred her, but Azami was too relieved that she wasn't being kicked out to be emotionally hurt. She tried to hide this fact, though, as she attempted to defend herself.
"He was going to quit, anyway."
"He was considering it; you pushed him over."
"Oh, please, do you really buy that?"
"Midori, you need an attitude adjustment. We're not going to get anywhere if you keep acting like this."
"I can't stand it!" Azami's rage continued to bubble inside of her, and finally the steam began to rise as her emotions became boiling hot. "I can't! That council thinks they're SO hot because they saved the Earth! Well, I don't see exactly what the difference is between brown and green grass to a starving man living in a cardboard box! They've never been to Neo Japan, they don't see the things that we see! They don't know what the price of this so-called peace was! And that peace won't even last… one of these days we're bound to fight back! And when we revolt, I'll spit in those politicians' faces!"
Kuroi stared at her, blinking; then suddenly chuckled. "Easy there, tiger. You're not even from Neo Japan."
"My parents are." Azami muttered.
"What is the relevance of that? I thought that you disowned them."
"I did, but ethnically I'm Japanese and these are my people who are being oppressed."
"Ah."
"We're the only hope that they have."
"Well," Kuroi frowned, "We won't be if you keep this up. Anyway, there's another reason I called you in here."
"What now?" Azami sighed. Did they have another mission for her already? She'd just gotten back…
"Asano got in."
"Oh, is that…" The statement took a few minutes to register, but finally it clicked: "Wait a minute! HE DID!?"
Asano was a young Neo Japanese man who had risen through the ranks in government (or as Azami like to oh-so-eloquently phrase it: "Done some serious ass-kissing"). This was a huge development for Neo Japan, who up until now had had a foreign representative in the Council, an ignorant man who was more interested in the rights of his native country of Neo England than the one he was currently supposed to be standing up for. Sure, there was still a foreign prime minister, but a Neo Japanese representative alone certainly couldn't hurt.
Kuroi held up his hand. "Hang on, before you get too excited, there are some catches. First off, he's being heavily tailed. I wouldn't be surprised if there are bugs in his office and everything. Also, he'll hardly have any weight in matters. Plus, who's to say he even wants what's best for our country? If he did, he wouldn't be in office right now, right?"
Azami felt the big balloon of happiness of her deflate, as if someone had popped it. "Yeah, you're right…"
"Hey now, you act like this a bad thing."
"Eh?"
"Midori, this is where we come in. Or should I say, where you come in?"
She narrowed her eyes. "What are you talking about?"
"Hang on, I'll explain in a minute." Kuroi looked at his watch, which he only glanced at out of habit as it had long since stopped working.
Azami felt irritated, as Kuroi sat there. She watched him take out a cigarette and light it with a cheap match.
"Smoking is bad for you." She informed him.
"Eh, we'll all die eventually anyway." Kuroi shrugged. He was a native of Neo Hong Kong, and smoking was one of the bad habits that probably came from a little too much participation in the famous nightlife. He'd tried quitting every so often, but failed.
Azami was trying to think of a way to respond to this, when someone entered the room. She knew him right away—only one member of DJN was so tall, but before she had a chance to say anything to him, Kuroi stood up and began to speak.
"Midori, I'm sure that you know Gin. His job is to accompany you on your next mission." He couldn't resist the opening for an old movie quote even in such a serious situation and added: "Should you choose to accept it."
"What mission would this be?" Azami asked, completely missing the reference. After all, she hadn't grown up with much television, only her mother's romantic "chick flicks" and the occasional martial arts movie with her father.
"You are to go befriend Asano."
"What? You've got to be kidding me! I can't just walk up to a random politician and become his groupie!" Azami hissed.
"I don't recall saying anything about becoming lovers," Kuroi replied. "Although, that would help."
Her face became oddly contorted, her eyes first widening with shock, and then narrowing with pure anger. Her lips pursed tightly for a few moments as if she was trying to hold her emotions back, but then gave up the fight. She stood up and looked him right in the eyes.
"Absolutely not! I refuse to stoop to that level! Besides, why not just ask Akai? She's older, and not to mention prettier, than I am, anyway!"
"Midori, you underestimate yourself." Gin finally spoke. "You don't share a room with the guys; you should hear what they call you."
"… Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"No, but I'm just saying that you're a lot more beautiful than you make yourself out to be. Besides why should that matter? Asano is an intelligent man, it'll take more than a nice ass to win him over."
"Great." Azami mumbled. "But why bother? You're the one who said what he says won't have any weight."
"You think that you're the only one working here? Everyone's doing their part to convince other nations. In fact, Akai's going to go patch things up with George de Sand, who's agreed to meet her."
Azami flushed. He's just using that to make me feel guilty so I'll agree. And it's working, too. Damnit!
"So, are you in?" Kuroi asked.
"Do I have a choice?" Azami muttered.
"Nope."
"Then, I guess… yeah."
He beamed, and out of the corner of her eye she saw that Gin was looking amused. She resisted the urge to smack them, although it wasn't easy.
"I knew that you would do it," Kuroi was saying, "you're such a team player."
"Yeah, yeah. I'd better get a nice Christmas bonus this year."
"Um, about that…"
"Oh, nevermind." Azami sighed, running a hand through her hair in a gesture of utter frustration. "So, what's up with Gin? Is he going to play buddy-buddy, too?"
"Heh heh, there's a reason he's coming…. But, perhaps you're better off not hearing it."
She glared daggers at him. "Tell me."
"Um…"
"I said, tell me!"
"Well… you see… girls are always more appealing to men when they're taken."
Azami pursed her lips in a tight line. … I don't like where he's going with this.
"And uh…" He struggled to get the words out. "Because of this fact, Gin is going to pose as your fiance."
"… Fiance? Do you not think he'll note that we're not even eighteen yet?"
"You're giving him way too much credit. Remember that he's a politician. Besides, I've taken the liberty of making identification for you, which formally states that you are nineteen."
"What's my alias?" Midori was her codename, and thus could not be used in case anyone discovered that a girl named Midori was in the DJN. Azami hated having two names, but now she'd be having three. Great.
"You are now Emiko Fukao, the daughter of a modest middle-class family situated in Neo Hong Kong. Your fiance's name is Vladimir Morozov, son of a wealthy family who hails from Neo Russia. Don't ask how you met, that's up to you. In fact, make this relationship whatever you want in order to win Asano over. If you want Vladimir to be abusive to poor Emiko, who was forced into this relationship in order to ensure financial security, then that's fine. Or maybe the more in love Emiko is with Vlad, the more desirable she'll seem to Asano. Choose whichever you want… think of it like being the star of a movie."
"Or a sleazy romance novel." Azami muttered darkly. She looked over at Gin, to see his feelings on this. But apparently he didn't mind; his expression was tranquil and his eyes were sparkling with bemusement—probably at the interplay between herself and Kuroi.
"Oh, I took the liberty of asking Prince George—your best friend, I know--to buy you some outfits. The Princess was all-too-happy to oblige, and she even bought you tons of shoes."
Azami felt her heart sink. "High heels?"
"Of course, I don't think there's a pair of flat heels in there."
"Oh no," She whimpered, eying her feet, which were still blistered from the other day.
"I know that you're not looking forward to this, but don't take it out on me."
Azami turned around in her plane seat and saw that Gin was frowning. They were in first class, and Azami was prepared to not fully turn into Emiko until the plane had landed. She wasn't quite ready to stop being Azami/Midori yet.
"I'm sorry Gin, I'm just…" She whispered.
"Would you stop calling me that? Come on, you know my name, Azami." He said softly.
"To us, you're…"
"I played with you! Remember?"
"You know, your father was so much more quiet than you." She mumbled, annoyed.
"The reason I talk is to fill up the silence that I grew up with. Say it… J…."
"Fine, Jarek. Happy?"
"Quite." He said cheerfully.
She rolled her eyes, and took out a cheap paperback novel. Quite contrary to her personality, Azami loved to read. She normally liked difficult books, but she'd bought one that was more entertaining than it was deep in order to relax before plunging head-first into the chaos that lay ahead of her.
"Aww, our first fight." Jarek teased. She ignored him, not even removing her face from her book.
"Oooh, looks like I'll be sleeping on the couch tonight."
Curiosity momentarily overtook her irritation. "What are our accomodations, anyway?"
"You know that funds are low. Fortunately, we found a benefactor, who managed to get us the honeymoon suite."
"…. Are you serious?"
"There's a jacuzzi and everything!"
"Well, then you can sleep in it." She spat.
"Fine by me." He grinned.
"You do realize that by the time this ordeal is over you'll be as wrinkled as a prune, right?"
He shrugged. "Nothing's perfect."
"Understatement of the year."
She went back to reading for a few moments, but apparently he couldn't stand too much quiet.
"So, what's our situation? Happily engaged, or trouble in paradise?"
"Don't you ever shut up?" She snapped.
"Ooooh, this kitten's got claws!"
The ride went on for a while with Jarek rambling on to her, and she wondered how she'd be able to put up with him for all of this time. And act affectionate with him? She wrinkled her nose in disgust at that thought.
"I got it," he suddenly said. "It's perfect!"
She sighed and looked up from her book. "This had better be."
"Trust me. Emiko is a high-class woman who is madly in love with…." He paused, "oh yeah, Vladimir. But he barely gives her the time of day. However, she's charming enough that any guy will wonder 'Why does she devote her attention to that jerk?'."
"Charming?" She snorted. "You've got the wrong girl for that part."
He ran a hand through his hair. "You really need to get over yourself, you know. You're only so awkward because you're convinced that you are."
"Yeah, right. You said we're in a hotel in Neo Hong Kong?" The council was situated in Neo Hong Kong, which was nice and neutral.
"Yes, but we have a contact there."
"Oh?"
"Come on, Azami, you know him. Unless you conveniently forgot that part of your childhood, too."
"You don't mean…"
"Yup."
"He's getting involved from his home? Is he crazy?" Azami asked in disbelief.
"He's risking everything, including his family."
She smiled. "I always liked him more than Tori."
He sighed. "Please don't call George Tori. That's such a sissy name; I can see why he hates it." He cracked a grin. "Although, he is Neo French, so I guess that isn't much of a problem…Kidding, kidding!"
"Asshole," Azami muttered, resuming her reading.
Finally they arrived in the new colony of Neo Hong Kong. Their first destination was the hotel, which was far too luxurious for Azami's tastes. She stared at all of the high class members of society, wondering how they could sleep at night while Neo Japan suffered so much. However, her rage was redirected when Jarek instructed her to change.
"We're meeting our contact." She argued. "I don't have to change until I'm meeting Asano."
"Emiko," he said loudly, "Azami's back in Neo Japan."
She growled, her cause finally outweighing her hatred of dressing up. "Fine, but you have to change into your suit."
He laughed. "Touche."
"And I get to change in the hotel room. You go into the bathroom."
"You're acting like I want you to do this."
"You just enjoy seeing me suffer."
"Heh heh, can't really disagree with you, cutie."
He grabbed a pile of clothes and went into the bathroom, while Azami stared at the glossy, neatly arranged bags that contained her own clothes, sent by Princess Maria Louise of Neo France. She made a face, and selected the least offensive articles that she could find: a sundress, and sandals with heels that were at least humanly possible to walk in.
Another bag caught her eye, one of pink and white paper. Curious, she went over and peeked inside.
"LINGERIE!? IS SHE INSANE!?" She screamed, pushing the bag as far away from herself as she could.
"Oooh, I like the sound of that!" Jarek yelled.
"Go to hell!" She shouted back, peeling off her stockings and unbuttoning her tank top.
"Think of the cause, Azami! And if it happens to be a nice mental image for me, then so be it!"
She wished that he could have seen her deathglare right at this moment, as she pulled off the dress, leaving her in just a tight pair of lycra shorts and an even tighter tank top. She thought it over, then decided to just wear the dress over this—for today, anyway, she knew that in the future she wouldn't be able to always get away with this. She yanked the dress over her head and made a face at the pastel colors that reminded her of what her mother dressed her in as a little girl.
"You can come out now." She yelled, although secretly she wished that he could have stayed in there forever. Luck was not with her, however; he opened the door, and she saw that he was wearing a collared shirt and a nice pair of pants.
He was looking her over as well. "Nice dress."
"Thanks. You clean up nicely, I suppose."
"Well, let's go."