Notes and Disclaimers:Maria-sama ga Miteru is the creation of Konno Oyuki, and the property of the author, Shueisha and Geneon Entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended. Indeed, we are sure that, as fan enthusiasm and love for these characters has ensured the longevity of this series, no offense will be taken. All other products or properties mentioned belong to their respective entities.

Maria-sama ga Miteru and the fanfiction derivative Nineteen, are both works of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

"But friendship is precious, not only in the shade, but in the sunshine of life;
and thanks to a benevolent arrangement of things, the greater part of life is sunshine."

- Thomas Jefferson

This in dedication to my late parents.

Prologue – Death and the Maiden

My name is Sachiko Ogasawara, and today's supposed to be my twentieth birthday; I'm expected to celebrate but it's not the right time to do, for the dire circumstances prevent me from doing so.

My wristwatch tells me it's past midnight, as I stand before a stranger I had never met before. He's wearing a three-piece suit, and so are some of the men surrounding us; the rest were wearing jackets and jeans. Yet they, mostly foreigners, are armed with guns hanging from their shoulders, they were grim-faced as they watch us with alert eyes.

Where I am right now? Right on the top floor of a building built with my parents' money, in this office that once belonged to my father, and now presided by this stranger, who was also holding a gun in his right hand. He didn't really look Japanese; rather he came from somewhere else. Was he Chinese? Korean? Or where?

We haven't even spoken to each other; no introduction from him since I arrived unarmed after one of his foreign guards frisked me (and I felt as if I was being violated on contact, even as I furiously kept my composure intact, fighting not to react).

The stranger was looking into my eyes, trying to gauge how I'm feeling right now, and his ice-cold eyes were unblinking, like that of a venomous snake. Maybe he was guessing whether I'm weak-willed or fearless, and with some dignity I'm showing him my determination and anger, even in the face of impending death. I want him not to take me lightly; I'll fight in any way I could.

In fact, I have a foreboding that in the next few minutes would be the last moments of my life, for this stranger would decide my fate, and of the hostages he'd taken.

Death. It means a great deal for many people; some consider it the last sorrowful chapter onto the final gasp, others the great beyond that no one could imagine what was like on the other side. Some mourn, others celebrate it; some call it a welcome rest after a lifetime of labor fulfilled, and some fear it as if its unexpected presence would rob them of their worldly possessions.

Days before I was told that death was no different from walking in the snow barefooted; if I could no longer feel the cold, then that should be the same feeling if I ever face death. I was afraid then, running for my life, but not today. Everything is hinged upon what I'm about to do.

After much I went through days of being chased, of literally dodging bullets, and surviving this far, I'm now making the ultimate sacrifice, by offering myself to fate. My death, should it comes, would be little concern for me, as long as the ones I love should also be the ones to live on.

A day earlier I've made my last will and testament to someone I trusted for a long time, and should I die on this very spot, it might as well be the last-ditch resort I'll use to deny this stranger his wish for a ransom.

Because this stranger—a madman, really—wants to seize my rightful inheritance by force, and at gunpoint.

MARIA-SAMA GA MITERU: NINETEEN
Chapter 1: Fire in the Sky / Black Monday
Written by soulassassin547
Rev. Date: 9/23/2010 8:11 a9/p9

Fire in the Sky

Even at this early hour, Narita International Airport never rests, serving as a major transportation hub for much of the world, a vital link between the East and the West. Planes were at their bays, waiting until passengers filled them before leaving. Among these planes was Nippon East Airways Flight 3209, bound for Chicago, in the United States.

The NEA R890 plane was brand new in its signature blue-hued stripes, the most advanced and the largest in the world, only two months after it came out of the assembly plant in Toulouse, France. In its typical configuration the plane was a monster double-decker with massive Rolls-Royce jet engines, advanced avionics and fail-safe systems, capable of seating nearly 600 passengers, and had enough range to reach London without refueling.

The ground crew was busily transferring cargo and baggage containers into the fuselage, while fuel and catering trucks helped topping up the plane of provisions and aviation gas for its journey. Everything seemed normal, except if one began to closely scrutinize the crew itself.

For one thing, eight of them were a ring of North Korean spies who secretly decided to embark on a very lucrative, part-time job that has their expertise paid for by anyone who can afford their fees.

Their infiltration into the airport wasn't done on immediate notice, however, as they started work two years ago and in separate times, to prevent suspicion. Circumventing airport security screening during employment was further helped by hackers and forgers in North Korean intelligence creating their false identities on computer and paper.

The spies were true experts in their field and well-trained, and as they worked on the transfers, their team leader checked one of the three containers, peering to see if the carefully concealed binary-liquid bombs were in place. One was positioned near the tail, the other two near the nose.

With deliberate care he set the timers and the altimeters, then flicking on the main switch, thus arming nearly 50 liters of an advanced, undetectable form of liquid explosive developed in a military lab outside Pyongyang. Once the plane reached its cruising altitude of around 8 kilometers, the timers will begin to tick away until after two hours. He calculated that somewhere in the flight path the detonation would occur over the Sakhalin Islands, and the Russians would be blamed for it once more.

Seeing that the LEDs on the detonators were green-lit, he raised his arm and gave the loading crew a thumbs-up, before the last batch of containers were rolled into the R890. The bales of death and destruction were ready.

Once the trucks backed out of the plane, and his crew shut the hatches tight, he decided that once they had their biggest fee to date - roughly sixteen million US dollars - they can put the mint in Zurich and let it grow, go anywhere and do everything they wished. More than what Dear Leader could provide them back home.

But only if Phase Two was accomplished after this job, and they can collectively flip the bird at Dear Leader for giving them small potatoes.

By the crack of dawn, the rogue agents' crew van left the heavily-guarded service access gate of the airport, after the typical perfunctory vehicle inspection and the presentation of identification, which they were glad for having no red flags. As they sped away on the expressway towards the direction of Tokyo, the leader wondered whether their prey had left and before he knew it, the huge R890 jetliner roared over their heads, engines screaming full power at takeoff, making its way toward a final destination it would never make.

Once the plane's engines faded out beyond distance, the turncoat spies peeled off and crumpled their facial disguises. As all was accomplished properly, it was time to leave no trace.

They were seated comfortably on the Premium Business Class section – upper fore deck – of the NEA airliner, which meant they had as much luxury and convenience as the Queen Mary 2 ocean liner or a private Gulfstream executive jet or the American President's Air Force One. At the moment their plane was leaving the last tip of Hokkaido, soft music could be heard in the background, and a lone businessman opposite them ate his breakfast quietly before taking a sip of his champagne.

Harumi Ogasawara, the absolute leader of a 152-year-old retailing and leisure establishment empire, peered out of one of the windows as the morning light streamed into the fuselage. The reassuring glow comforted him, even as this business trip was normally he intended to do alone with his son, but this was different because they - he, Tohru and Sayako - are to enjoy themselves by making the most of time lost to work, and they intended to combine business with pleasure. He watched his son talk to his wife before turning his thoughts to the upcoming merger.

He had committed the planner to memory, knowing that he has finally found an American retailer to join forces with: access to all markets and common goals. The time has come that in this age of globalization, strength in alliances was valued, and that he intended the Ogasawara Group to be a global brand: he wanted access to the Western market and, vice-versa, the Japanese market for the American retailer.

Oh, he knew the Western retailers have made their presence in Japan, notably a French supermarket chain with upscale pricing, but they were also the competition. This alliance he was seeking with the Americans was intended a signal that he was committed to change, yet he insisted that the brand be retained as long as Japanese had a majority on the board.

He had also memorized the speech - in straight English - he would make before the stockholders in Chicago, expounding the value of partnerships in a business world challenged to go beyond borders, in the face of burgeoning new markets, aggressive competition and the recent economic crisis resulting to national deflation.

The last problem severely hit their profit margins, and old Harumi was reluctant to lay off thousands of young workers. Gone were the Showa days, when everyone was assured of a stable job for life and committed to the survival of the company. The current bulk of employees in the Ogasawara Group's network of department stores, supermarkets, resorts and mid-sized amusement parks across Japan were mostly composed of high school and college graduates. The words "casual worker" seemed to him tasted bitter on his tongue, as he watched television news footage of homeless, jobless people in tents.

He wanted to change all that, just like what that American president and the new Prime Minister always said. Go for long-term benefits, cut costs, slim down executive pay, buy quality products, and he didn't just want to give every employee a simple paycheck. Job security was more pressing than ever, so in recent months he was hungry for any ideas, willing to make some personal sacrifices, and even made an impassioned speech before the entire workforce about corporate survival with total cooperation.

The old king sighed. Now with the good news, he thought.

The good news for this year was the increased influx of tourist arrivals to add up with domestic visits, which was good for the leisure spots they had. Profits were up by 32%, a surprisingly good figure despite the economic crisis and ongoing problems with the world's airlines, notably Japan Airlines, are recent filing for bankruptcy protection. To add more profit and lure the moneyed otaku crowd, he also toyed with the idea of having anime studios tie up with his amusement parks with themed attractions based on their shows.

Harumi ran his fingers over his gray hair. He thought of the Last Will and Testament he drawn out months before, readjusted every year by his lawyer - Keiichi Mizuno, head of the law firm Mizuno, Hayashi and Associates - for anything he could anticipate in the future, and the most recent - and permanent - adjustment involved putting his granddaughter Sachiko on paper, now that Suguru Kashiwagi no longer wanted any part and thus formally broke off the engagement.

"All to my granddaughter," he firmly told Keiichi. "She'll become a fine leader someday, and I have seen it in her eyes... for the time has come to me to change what I am."

Sure, Harumi was still hale and healthy even at 76, capable of putting up a day's work where his contemporaries drop out because they had too much of vices and disease, but at this point anything could happen to him.

Harumi sighed, before he picked up that freshly brewed cup of tea sitting on one of the holders. He sipped it slowly, and then contemplated about his granddaughter... if in case should he depart this world.

Sachiko, to begin with, was in herself a force of nature. From the beginning she was ebullient and, true to her name, happy enough to bring sunshine into the otherwise repressive atmosphere of their mansion. But at six she seemed to have changed, ever since Harumi and his son Tohru began keeping each a mistress of their own and away from home, with a mildly stern expression on her face that he mistook for her need to be formal as their place in Japanese society had dictated. However, at the same time the problem of corporate succession was answered when she absentmindedly wrote down on paper in her kindergarten class what she wanted to do someday: to marry her cousin Suguru Kashiwagi. However, Harumi had little idea that childhood promises could fail unexpectedly.

Harumi was so hopeful in that false destiny until Sachiko reached fifteen, and for some reason he never knew, that girl and Kashiwagi didn't came along well after that high school entrance party. He watched with quiet concern as she soon assumed an expression of quietly bottled anger behind her alabaster face. He tried to appease her with gifts, but to no avail as she attempted to distance herself from him and her father, losing herself into the lessons of her tutors. She knew that they were doing wrong, but never able to say it straight.

What a grandfather must do? He couldn't solve it and all his life was heavily devoted to the intricacies of commerce, not family, a modern King Midas cursed of touching everything - even his granddaughter - into gold.

Then an answer to the complex puzzle that was his granddaughter's inner turmoil came out of the blue two years later: from a chance meeting on a Monday morning, Sachiko selected an unlikely younger sister who miraculously turned the situation around and changed her completely. Later on, he heard great stories from almost everyone about their successful partnership as senpai-kouhai, and before Sachiko's graduation he met Yumi Fukuzawa for the first time... and he really liked her. A dutiful granddaughter he would have wanted, and by his word she was welcome.

Meters below where Harumi was seated, hidden in the bowels of the cargo hold, one of the detonators was on its final few minutes. The North Koreans who designed the binary liquid bomb prided on its ability to be almost undetectable as water, and in tests even a sniffer dog could barely tell the difference between the two liquids. The detonator was a work of art in itself, a masterpiece by an Eastern European electronics-wizard-cum-anarchist, for every circuit board he made was unique and he believed that his creations could never be traced.

By t-minus five minutes the indicator lights on each of the detonators turned from blinking red to blinking green.

"How are the new architectural plans that Fukuzawa submitted to you a week ago?" Harumi asked his son Tohru as he had his second helping of tea, while Sayako was reading a light novel. He was well interested in Yumi's father and his work in the field, which turned out to be a boon to his business concern, with designs that were surprisingly refreshing. Sometimes, he mused, gakubatsu (school friendships) were a good thing.

"I like his idea of restyling one of our Kobe stores, combining new with local architectural designs and a bit of a marine motif. Said it's his homage to the city's tradition," Tohru commented. The Kobe branch was situated in the traditional shopping area of the city, with good access to transportation.

"That's right. But what about the traffic flow he talked about? He's also putting that into consideration."

"He said he was also running computer simulated tests with a British firm specializing in that problem, so there shouldn't be a problem with overcrowding during rush hour. Anyway, I think it's a good idea we keep the store with its supermarket there because there's this—"

A loud bang reverated throughout the plane's fuselage, the shock coming from the tail and sudden, violent decompression caused everything in the fuselage to be sucked – air, loose paper, small bags, shoes, food carts and even passenger seats – out of the cavity that was ripped open by the liquid bomb. The decompression caused the plane to veer slowly to the left as the pilots frantically tried to right the plane while calling for a mayday. Overwhelming screams could be heard throughout, while Harumi thought he could hear the engines whining louder.

As chaos reigned inside, the shock and terror of being would-be-victims of a plane crash overtook all three of the Ogasawaras, realizing that their mortality turned out to be terribly close. Old Harumi wondered if he needed to strap in, before he closed his eyes hard and exerted the last of his full consciousness to recall everything of his life – childhood, his studies at Hanadera and then to Tokyo University, inheriting the family business, marriage, children, his only grandchild – and then the last image he summoned was Sachiko's smiling face as she held her diploma tube on her graduation day.

Then everything went black, for Harumi never heard the secondary explosion that obliterated what remained of Flight 3209.

Black Monday

Completely unaware of the violent destruction occurring high and off the coast of Hokkaido, the last heir of the Ogasawara family fortune woke up slowly, her almost feline form stirring and parting the blankets as she opened her midnight-blue eyes to the Monday sun streaming through the big windows. The glare caused Sachiko to blink twice to adjust to the light, and then she slowly propped herself up to sit on the edge of her four-poster bed.

Good morning, me, she mused in her sleepy thoughts.

Sachiko was sure that her long, midnight-black hair was terribly unkempt, so she stood up and walked to her dresser. While looking into her reflection on the mirror, she combed it straight. The first order of business of her morning was to prepare herself for school, so she took off her pajamas and then underwear as she walked to the bathroom.

As the warm water sprayed upon her in a steamy cascade and she grabbed a bar of soap, Sachiko began spinning up her mind to full power, and made up a brief mental checklist as she scrubbed herself with the lather:

Term paper for Mr. Kisaragi (Economics): check.
Two essays for Mrs. Ikeda (Ethics) and Mrs. Ota (English Language): check.
The math paper: all problems solved…
Anything else I missed?
No.

Sachiko always put on 100% of effort since day one in Lillian University's Business Administration course, just as she did back in Lillian High, but at least it was better than trying to muscle into Tokyo University and its infamous entrance exams, even if she had a pretty good chance of being admitted there.

After she toweled herself and put on deodorant and light perfume, Sachiko went to the cavernous cabinet which contained most of her wardrobe. As she pulled out fresh underwear from one of the drawers, and wore them on, she stared at the plastic-wrapped school uniforms she once used to wear. On hangers, they were a week's worth of Lillian Girl's High School, the black fabric given a drop of green, the sailor-style collar made of beige fabric, a distinctive, conservative signature that one went to one of the most elite of Japanese high schools:

"With skirt pleats cleanly pressed, white sailor color flat, walking slow is preferred here. Obviously, no one is late or rushed; no one would be such an unladylike pupil."

But Sachiko willed herself not to linger too long to reminiscence, so she quickly picked out her most preferred wardrobe of the season: as it was still cold out there, she'll have a good sweater over a shirt, a pair of jeans and boots; she was getting used to the famous mix-and-match street style from out of Shibuya.

Pleased with her appearance, before Sachiko went downstairs to the dining room she glanced at the two pictures that she taped to the mirror: Tsutako Takeshima's now-famous snapshot of her and Yumi, as she fixed that tie right before the ever-watchful image of the Virgin Mary; and her graduation photo with Yumi and Touko, while holding that diploma tube.

Don't worry, Yumi, I'll be there as usual, she thought with a smile.

At the dining room, which was very large and ornate by Japanese standards, Sachiko's breakfast was a sunny-side egg, two pieces of bacon and toasted bread with marmalade, with a side of a cup of Earl Grey. As she ate her breakfast, the mustachioed butler – Sean Liston – told of her parents' departure.

"Miss, they've left around four-thirty," the butler said in Queen's English. "By the way, they have also left a message for you."

Sachiko now noticed that beside the plate, there was a folded piece of paper with her name on, written down in her father's penmanship. She unfolded and read the message:

Sachiko, take care of yourself. Be good on your studies. Love, Father and Mother and Grandfather.

"Thank you," she answered. "I'll try to phone them once they make it to Chicago."

Although she still had a Maserati Quattroporte sports sedan and thus the license to drive it, Sachiko still used the local Musashino bus, which at the moment was packed mostly with Lillian students on their way to school. She liked it this way so that she could overhear the conversation floating around her and soak in the energy of anticipation. However, as a concession to paying homage to her previous life at Lillian High, she preferred to get off the bus at its familiar gate and make a small prayer before the Virgin.

Once off the bus, Sachiko walked down the familiar path lined with gingko trees, and with each step upon the brick pavement there were always memories she relished to remember. But this morning she was pleased to find both of her former charges waiting before the Virgin's grotto, decked in that very familiar sailor uniform. To be sure, Sachiko took notice of their ties on their collars: well-done and not crooked.

Though she no longer wore the colorful pigtails that once characterized her appearance and with her hair now loose and long, Yumi Fukuzawa was still as ebullient as ever, but what sets her apart from any other Lillian student is the title Rosa Chinensis. Flowery it may seem, Yumi held considerable power within Lillian High, and as such her responsibilities were wide-ranging, such as organizing school events, implementation of rules and regulations, the management of all the clubs, and so on.

Yumi's imouto, or younger sister, Touko Matsudaira, also had none of the curly pigtails that Sei Satou (the former Rosa Gigantea) once gave her the secret nickname of "Drill". As a successor – with the formal title of Rosa Chinensis en Bouton – her role in the Yamayurikai was to assist Yumi in duties required of the council, and to act as second-in-command in case Yumi has to call in sick. Everyone in school thought Touko was an admixture of Yumi and Sachiko's personalities: warm and with an open friendliness, yet when studying, she was real serious and known for being a stickler for rules.

All in all, losing the pigtails made Yumi and Touko more attractive than childlike.

As tradition called for it, the Rosa Chinensis of the past, present and future greeted each other "Gokigenyou" as they bowed, before they slowly faced the Virgin and clasped their hands in silent prayer.

"How's the weekend?" Sachiko asked afterwards, as they were walking to their respective classes.

Yumi shrugged. "Not much, except maybe for calculus." Though she was in the Yamayurikai, Yumi remained an average student, especially with some difficulty grasping math and language.

"Which is why I helped her out yesterday," Touko added. Even if she was second year, Touko insisted on studying high-school subjects a year above her, especially in brain-critical subjects that required much thinking. That way, Touko reasoned, she doesn't need any cram school, and she used this added knowledge to tutor Yumi.

"Oh, good," Sachiko answered.

But Sachiko left out a more critical question: a possible successor for Touko. But unlike her predecessors in the Yamayurikai, Sachiko didn't want to pressure a younger sister to find a suitable imouto. The last time that happened, Yoko Mizuno placed her into a precarious position after she refused to take part in a school play with Suguru Kashiwagi involved, which forced her to find a temporary "soeur" in an attempt to escape, and instead found Yumi.

Anyway, she'd rather let Touko decide for herself on that matter. Time to switch to another subject, something she'd like to see how Yumi would react.

"Yumi," Sachiko spoke. "Let me guess… Over the weekend, did that Masamune boy try to ask you out, say, on a date again?"

Instantly a blush spread upon Yumi's face and she stopped walking. The question was a bombshell. A total math nut, Masamune Kobayashi was the treasurer in Hanadera's school council who once admitted to Sachiko in secret that he was romantically smitten with Yumi.

"Uh… No, not yet!" Yumi stammered.

Touko was giggling at Yumi's reaction. The stock index for Racoon-Yumi-sama is up for today, people, she thought.

Akio Murasaki, the new Prime Minister of Japan for three months till now, never wanted a very rude awakening against his will, but his job required that he must be informed of any good or bad news. He woke up this morning at home, went through the usual ritual, having a nice breakfast with his wife and two kids, and then whisked off to work in his limo. But when he arrived at his office, which was located near the Diet building, two of his aides were waiting inside, both of them ashened-faced as they handed him the report into his hands.

According to the brief, thirty minutes after the explosion that caused Flight 3209 to disappear from the radar screen, the agencies responsible for plane crash situations were mobilized, with Coast Guard and Maritime SDF rescue teams on their way to the crash site. The Minister of Transportation, as he wrote in the report, said that the chances of any survivors are remote.

As this one could be on the scale of the Lockerbie bombing back in 1989, he may require the assistance of the American National Transportation Safety Board, tasked to investigate complicated plane crashes.

Of course, the airline transmitted the details of the passenger manifest to the Ministry of Transportation, and apart from the report, the initial list also given to Murasaki included three familiar names. Their mention made him feel sick to the stomach and mutter a curse.

Tohru Ogasawara was his old classmate back in Hanadera days.

The entire morning was uneventful for Sachiko, as she endured several classes, answered questions, and wrote down whatever the professors were teaching. In the midst of one lecture on the principles of economics, even though she tried not to distract herself with daydreams, she thought of what her parents were doing on the flight at the moment.

Perhaps by now they're getting off the plane at the airport, heading to one of the hotels there. Perhaps they're at the negotiating table, with their American counterparts. Perhaps…

Blinking, Sachiko shook her head, trying not to succumb into torpor, and tuned into her professor's lecture. She frowned a bit at her own lapse.

"Pardon me, Miss Ogasawara?" the professor said, halting in mid-lecture, noticing the young woman's odd gesture.

"N… No, it's nothing, ma'am," Sachiko answered as she focused on her notes once more.

The professor shrugged, and then went back to her lecture when a knock on the door interrupted her again. Slightly cross, she walked towards the door and opened, to show a woman standing by.

"Yes?" The professor asked at the woman, who then whispered something back. The woman looked familiar; she was one of the proctors. The professor now faced the class, and eyed Sachiko, who was watching her.

"Miss Ogasawara," the professor said, "please report at the office immediately, as it's is an emergency. You need to go with Miss Kobayashi."

Sachiko rose from her seat. "Why?"

"I can't say, but you're needed."

Sachiko walked alongside with Kobayashi, who said nothing, to the dean's office.

"What's going on?" Sachiko asked the proctor.

"I'm sorry, but I'm assigned to fetch you," Kobayashi answered.

"Okay," the young woman said.

Once they came upon the door, Kobayashi opened the knob; both walked in and faced the dean, who was seated behind her desk. The name plaque said "Naoko Maeda" in kanji, and the old woman who owned the desk wore a grave expression. Apart from Maeda, a man in a three-piece suit stood by, looking somber.

"Please be seated, Miss Ogasawara," Maeda said, and Sachiko sat down on one of the empty seats offered to her. Maeda nodded to Kobayashi to leave them alone, and that woman walked away and closed the door.

Once they were alone, Maeda gestured at the man standing to introduce himself. He bowed before Sachiko and said, "I'm Mister Tomoguchi, representing the Ministry of Transportation, and… I have something to say, Miss Ogasawara."

"What is it?" Sachiko questioned.

Tomoguchi sighed. "Please do not be alarmed, but this concerns your parents."

Sachiko looked worried this time. "Why?"

"It's my sad duty to say… that your father, mother and grandfather may have not survived Flight 3209," Tomoguchi informed her, before he began to brief her the sordid details regarding the destruction of that flight.

About twenty minutes later a blood-curdling wail could be heard echoing off the hallway walls. People passing that office shivered as they grimaced at the moans and the crying coming from inside.

Author's Notes: Hi there, it's my first time trying to write something other than my usual series. Well, inspired by the likes of Wasabi, The Professional, and other revenge flicks, this was an idea that's been sitting around for three years, but never got to do it. Actually I intended to write something different for everyone, as I've been seeing too many of the same stuff almost all the time. Yes, I admit that there are grown men who love this show, but wishing for an unusual action-packed twist not seen in years, and there's some girls out there with the same sentiments.