Kishi: There is probably a very good reason as to why I didn't update this thing a while back. Unfortunately, there isn't really one, unless you count family trips, college preparations and that sort of thing.

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Kaibyaku Muyo!

Chapter 3

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The hours immediately following the assassination attempt on the Grand Marshal had been hectic at best. Hospital staff had been scrambled immediately to action, and security staff had been called up to recheck all the entrances and exits. The rest of the GPs were fair game for drafting by the security staff, but it wasn't as though they objected.

There were, however, two who walked through the sentient seas of chaos that roared around them, trench coats giving them the look of investigators. They were both insanely handsome men, one with blonde hair, bright blue eyes and dazzling white teeth. The other, with long dark hair, dreamy green eyes, and a tanned complexion, was shaking his head in exasperation.

"I can't believe you used a laser scope."

"It got the job done, didn't it?"

"Maybe, but it's way too easy to track! I swear, someday your flair for the dramatic is going to kill us."

"Perhaps. In the meantime, however, we have accomplished what we set out to do. Let's report back and see if we can get some leave time for once."

The dark-haired one nodded. "That'd be good. I'd love to have some time to myself for a little while. Just one seduction is all I'm asking for."

The blonde shook his head. "You're too easy."

They laughed, as if at a private joke and continued walking, passing orderlies as they strove to separate from any place with too much traffic. Their walking took them further and further out, to the very outer fringes of the station. Around them existed the results of their handiwork – shaken officers, working to restore order and professionalism, the gossips who had nothing better to do than spread rumors and brew conspiracy, and the occasional poor rookie whose nerves were just shot.

They nodded to any who met their glances, but theirs weren't nods of commiseration but of satisfaction. It always felt good to see the effects of a job well done.

They finally reached a place in the station not swarming with people. The blonde one pulled from the folds of his trench coat what appeared to be a scalpel. Looking about once more to make sure there was no one else around, he reached out into the air. Then he brought the scalpel down through the air.

The air, for its part, offered as little resistance as had been expected, and the hole in space/time was sliced without a hitch. He didn't finish the cut until he had carved a big enough hole for them to step through, leaving a gap in reality nearly seven and a half feet tall. The blonde stepped aside and gestured for the dark haired one to go first. Then, grinning, he stepped through himself and the hole vanished, with no trace that it was ever there.

---

The weather was warm and sunny, with just the right amount of clouds to keep the sun from becoming oppressive. To eyes that hadn't seen the place in over a decade, Okayama presented something of a sight for sore eyes.

Achika sighed contentedly as she walked alongside Nobuyuki. She had had her looks altered by Washyuu to make her eyes the traditional brown, her features a little more rounded, her stature just a little taller. The silvery pendant that made all this possible dangled on a chain that disappeared down the white t-shirt she was wearing.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" asked Nobuyuki.

"It has," she replied. "I don't know if I hardly recognize half the place any more."

"Yeah," he said. "This town underwent a big boom when Internet technology became the next big thing. It's just big enough to accommodate lots of people at once without being crowded. So, naturally, lots of office buildings had to be built."

"I see," she said. "Good years for you, if I remember right…"

"Yep," he said. "That year was when Ryoko and everyone else arrived."

She smiled. "Is the school still up?"

"It was," said Nobuyuki. "Then Tenchi and Ryoko had it out with each other and half the school paid the price."

Achika giggled. "Please tell me it was the science department. Old Amatsuki deserved it."

"Yeah, chemistry was never one of your favorites, was it?"

"It was one of my favorites," she sniffed indignantly. "It's just that the teacher had it in for me. He made all that stuff up about ionic bonding and electrolysis."

"Aw, he wasn't that bad…"

"Oh, you couldn't tell. You had all that math know-how at your fingertips. Chemistry was a breeze for you."

Nobuyuki grinned abashedly and nervously scratched the back of his head. "I wasn't anything special."

Achika stopped right then. He turned to look back at her as she looked up into his eyes. "You were always something special," she said. "And trust me," she said, winking, "you still are."

Nobuyuki grinned, again abashed. They continued their walk, this time with hands always on the verge of touching.

-

"Whew! This house doesn't take care of itself very well, does it?"

"No Sasami, I don't believe it does."

Two members of a royal family from a planet far, far away looked at a room in rebellion. Whilst out on leave-taking to save an empire, they had neglected what was quite possibly the most important of their tasks – house keeping. In the months that had passed, a fine sprinkling of dust had taken residence on the upholstery. Empty sake bottles lay haphazardly in a corner by the stairs. The signs that fifty-some-odd people had occupied this space announced their combined presence clearly enough.

Aeka sighed. "I suppose it's our turn now."

"Yeah. I'll go ahead and take care of vacuuming."

"All right. I'll take care of the dusting then, if I may."

"No problem!" said Sasami as she dug around in the newly ordinary closet for a vacuum. Washyuu had lately been tied up in her lab working feverishly on her latest project. Having an assistant helped out a lot, she said, but it was difficult enough to almost make the advantage of an extra brain worthless.

Aeka peered in over the shoulder of her sister and saw the duster-staff, a training tool courtesy of her brother. She smiled, murmuring, "I should probably practice footwork today."

"Mm?" Sasami questioned, then noticed the staff and smiled knowingly. "All right, then!" she said. "Let's get to work!"

-

Strike. Pull. Plant. Strike. Pull. Plant. The mantra of menial farm labor echoed throughout Tenchi's head as he performed what the mantra demanded. Strike the hoe into the ground. Pull aside the dirt. Plant the carrot seeds, resetting the dirt in so doing.

He heaved a sigh and wiped his brow. He supposed that the heat of the day would've been more bearable had he been involved with anything but chores, but today's events had been decided before he even landed.

He looked out over the vegetables of his labor. Row after row, field after field filled with orange and green things. All in all, the crops had held together as well as could be expected. He grinned at the possibility that he could maybe keep ahead of Ryo-Oh-Ki's ravenous appetite, which led to thoughts of Ryoko, which led to thoughts of her travels to Kyrin's planet, which led to worry.

He shrugged the kinks out of his shoulders and went back to work, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong waiting for them.

-

The hills shone with vibrant radiance in the bright summer sun. Katsuhito looked, and was content. However, in the back of his mind, he felt stirrings of emotion among the trees. He frowned. Something's changed since we left.

---

"So, how's the Grand Marshal holding up?"

"They say he's stabilized for the moment. He took more than one shot, so that much is a miracle."

"Really? I'd heard that his injuries were actually very minor."

"Please. Assassins don't screw up like that."

"No, see, 'cuz I'd heard that he saw a laser sight coming toward him and rolled away at the last minute."

"I don't think so. The latest news is that he's suffered some sort of major head trauma and—" the woman stopped, her eyes narrowing by the slightest fraction. There, sweeping along the floor, as though he had every right to be there (which he ostensibly did), was a janitor. "Let's go ahead and move elsewhere, shall we?"

Her boyfriend nodded in assent and they walked off.

Genjo cursed beneath his breath. Ever since that press release, everyone had avoided him as if he were the foulest evil. The few times he had gotten close enough to hear anything, it had been the same old stuff over and over – rumors of Kuramitsu's condition and whether or not the janitors should all be placed on house arrest.

He shook his head. It was supposed to be simple. Get in, get a job, stick his ears where only janitors could, and relay the information back to headquarters on Jurai. Simple. Easy. It was supposed to be child's play. It had been Funaho's idea of a reward for his efforts, a break from the endless tensions of the Siege.

Now, of course, all the variables had decided to change. Now, the proverbial Elder Sibling had awakened, suspicion in its heart, its eyes watchful for any and all deceit. He was subjected to rigorous background checks once a week, at least. He was sure that his records would hold through for perhaps a month or so, but he couldn't be sure about how they'd hold if they invaded his personal quarters. He'd already heard horror stories from fellow custodians as the authorities disregarded the right to privacy in their search for the assassin.

He shook his head as the sweeper finished making the room spotless. His cover wasn't going to hold at this rate. They'd started roughly seven tenths of the station away from his neighborhood, but there were plenty of raw recruits who would be eager to report a strange sanitation man.

I'll have to check with Funaho about this, first opportunity, he thought. I'm no coward, but only a fool waits to be caught.

---

In the great expanse of light-pierced night, there existed a ship made of what appeared to be so many crystals. On top of the pink crystal that appeared to be the core, there were two people who, despite their inestimable mutual esteem, had accepted as their sacred duty the task of beating the other into a pulp.

Kyrin blocked the incoming kick with both arms, but that still didn't stop him from flying sideways. He rolled, came up, met Ryoko's fist with a deflection that snaked his arm around hers, pushed it aside, allowed him room to drive an uppercut into her side.

She was driven away, but she spun, her hand knife-like as it chopped at his neck. He stopped this one as well, receiving a roundhouse to his left side for his troubles. However, she didn't pull away fast enough. He grabbed it in the crook of his left arm, slid himself around her, took a shot to the chest, then lifter her leg higher than it was meant to go. She recovered from this as well, though, and rolled.

They stood, roughly a pace and a half apart, breathing heavily. They'd been fighting all-out for roughly an hour and a half. They were both dressed in practice gi that Kyrin had insisted on picking up for this purpose.

She knew Kyrin had taken several good hits, particularly in the body, but he seemed almost unflappable. She also knew that she had taken her own share, but the ache was distant in her mind. All that she needed to focus on was right in front of her – let her pains be dealt with later.

Kyrin sighed as if he were readying himself for another attack, and she narrowed her eyes in focus, when suddenly he held out a hand. "I think enough is enough," he said.

"Are you sure?" Ryoko asked. "We could keep going, I'm not tired."

Kyrin smiled wanly as he said, "I don't imagine you are. I, on the other hand, am bone weary."

Ryoko frowned. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," he said, "I think I am. Remember – you're a strong girl, for your age." He grinned.

She grinned back. "Well, thanks. I guess I really am pretty young at 2,000 or so. How old are you again?"

He looked up in thought as they sat down. "Wow… it's been a while, but I think I'm somewhere in the neighborhood of about…" he mimicked counting on his fingers, "2,761 years old."

"Wow, mister!" marveled Ryoko in a childish voice. "You're old!"

"Well gee," he deadpanned, "thanks."

"But seriously," she said. "You aren't a Juraian, so you shouldn't have lived anywhere near as long as you have, unless the Dareis have access to the Juraian trees?"

"That's actually one of the weird parts of our physiology," he said. "We don't age like the other races do. We hit a point wherein we're at our physical prime and, almost over night, we stop aging physically."

"And it's purely biological?"

"Yep."

"Wow. I bet Mom would be interested in that."

"I suppose she would. After all, she stopped aging because she isn't a totally natural being."

"Yeah." She heaved a sigh and stretched. "Well, if that's all, guess there's no need to wear this anymore." She casually undid the gi jacket, exposing the white undershirt that Kyrin had insisted she wear. But they had been pushing themselves to their physical limits, so the sweat of her exertions made the shirt just a little clingier than it was meant to be.

She turned to look at him when Kyrin made an odd noise, as if someone had wrapped their hands around his throat and squeezed suddenly. She turned to look at him, shocked to see that he was blushing as if she weren't wearing anything at all.

"What?" she asked. "I know you've seen me with less than this."

It was true. Surely he remembered. But when he looked as if he were going to explain himself, he, shut his mouth and shook his head.

"I don't know," he mumbled. "There's some sort of novelty in this moment that I just don't understand." He shook his head again and bowed, putting fist to palm in salute.

As he walked away, Ryoko sighed. Kyrin hadn't been acting like he used to at all. The old Kyrin had been a vigorous, wizened warrior who abstained from alcohol and made every attempt to be near her when he could, yet never asking for any sort of commitment aside from her friendship.

This one, however, was proving to be a different animal. True, he was still vigorous, still wizened, but now he maintained himself in distance from her. It had been that way the entire trip so far. He always listened whenever she talked to him, offered commentary when it was called for, trained as hard as she could possibly want him to.

Yet, try as she might, she couldn't reconcile this Kyrin with the one who had professed to being in love with her. Something just seemed different. It was almost as if, when Kain left him, a key piece of him had been removed and replaced by something else. She just couldn't put her finger on what exactly it was.

She took another step and gasped. Suddenly, without the heat of the duel and the adrenaline surging in her system, she felt the extent of every blow she had taken. She took another step and grimaced, sitting down rather heavily.

She suddenly heard a weight settle right behind her. "Are you all right?" asked Kyrin.

"Yeah, just fine," she grated out. She wasn't angry, she just felt the pain a little too well.

"Doesn't seem that way to me," he said.

She suddenly felt two hands on her back. "What are you--"

"Please be quiet," he said. "This requires concentration." She decided to trust him and so sat quietly. At first, there was nothing, but as she sat there, a warmth began to spread through her body from his hands. It wasn't that feverish heat that came from physical exertion, but something gentler, something that touched every injury and brought relief. She couldn't help but be amazed as it washed through her, leaving her feeling awake and energized.

Finally, he removed his hands from her and stood up. She sprung and spun to face him. "What was that?" she asked.

He shrugged. "It's qi. All I did was tell the qi in your body to recirculate a little faster to bring more energy to bear in tending to your injuries."

She growled. "I still haven't figured out how to do that yet."

Kyrin smiled. "Well, maybe we can work on that next time."

"Maybe," she said.

---

And behold, thought Washyuu, ye shall be as gods. She'd run that quote by Senbo once or twice, and couldn't believe how nuts it drove him. Senbo's difficulties with the number had been fairly entertaining, but finally she suggested he input the number into the equation.

He'd sighed, shaken his head as if there was no way it could work, but input the number and transmitted the equation. The look on his face had been priceless when subspace responded with a brilliant flash of light.

"So what do you think about the interconnection of all things now?"

He'd stared long and hard, running the math over and over in his head by the look on his face, then finally sighed. "I must've slept through a lecture in quantum physics. Must've missed the lesson on interconnection."

She'd only shaken her head and set him to work on the next step of the experiment. Looping from the home dimension into subspace (where she and her lab were) and back into the home dimension was fairly easy. The mathematics didn't change at all, unless one was trying to rematerialize at a different point in the dimension from which they entered.

On the other hand, figuring out the numbers for a different dimension was another beast altogether. Each number in the equation was, in fact, the result of a different equation, each one designed to answer a single 'question.' There was an equation to answer the question of the dimension's 'location,' another to create a point in the dimension for entry, and the equation of the portal itself. In all reality, it was very similar to tuning a radio to find a signal, except that instead of a machine doing it for them they had to figure the math all by themselves.

His only real facial reaction upon the receipt of the instructions was the slightest grimace, as though he were enduring a twinge of pain. He'd then suggested that she make a device that could figure the numbers and plug the equations into subspace.

The idea had merit. So she told him to design the machine and bring it back to her for critiquing. If the design was sound, she'd make it.

That had been an hour or so ago, and now when she snuck peeks at him to monitor his progress he would be staring at the screen intently, talking to himself in what seemed a long whispered breath, rocking himself back and forth, sporadically typing rapidly when a breakthrough came.

She sighed. The resemblance between the young man and the young woman she used to be was apparent. She could hardly remember all the nights she stayed up, staring at a computer screen, trying to translate an idea she had into numbers or text to make the computer understand and comply with her wishes.

Still, without the machine to work on, it left her with nothing but time to catch up with the news she'd been missing out on.

Opening the file on the computer, she watched Funaho's face appear on the screen. She cleared her throat and began, "Good evening. At 21:19, Jurai Standard Time, there was an assassination attempt against the Grand Marshal of the Galaxy Police. As of now, there has been no release as to his condition."

She continued to at least appear levelheaded as she continued, "The news of the attempt brings grief on the personal level for I, the Royal Family, and indeed the entirety of our Empire. On our behalf, I extend condolences, and our prayers for his recovery. As well, for the sake of closure, we add this: we have not now, nor have we ever, employed spies for the purpose of sabotage or assassination against the Galaxy Police. However, we have, unfortunately, been unable to stop the leakage of our tools and weapons to the black market. It is entirely possible for a rogue system or federation to procure the items used by the assassin on the black market. We, who have been staunch friends and supporters of the Galaxy Police since their creation, have no reason for such underhanded trickery. In closing, I promise the full support of the Empire in aiding the Galaxy Police in the capture of this criminal, who has besmirched our honor and caused our allies so much grief. Thank you." The screen faded.

She moved on to the next clip, the GP response. "The Galaxy Police appreciate the aid offered by the Juraian Empire," said the representative. "All aid and good sentiments are appreciated during this time of trial. However, the Galaxy Police are in no need of aid at this time, feeling our own security forces to be adequate for the task at hand. Thank you."

The rest of the clips chronicled a series of events that was occurring rapidly and growing more dangerous by the day. GP fleets began sweeps along all major trading routes. Ships that were suspicious were boarded and inspected. If found to contain arms and war supplies, the ships were impounded until further notice, searched thoroughly, and released, usually with the majority of the shipment disposed of. The majority of the ships impounded, she noted, were Juraian transports, usually having something to do with the Juraian efforts to rebuild their military.

She'd heard Senbo walk up to watch, so she wasn't startled when he suddenly said, "Washyuu-chan, there's something I don't understand about the actions of the GP."

"What is it?" she asked.

"It seems to me," he said slowly, as if he were unsure, "that the GPs are almost aiming to specifically hurt Jurai with this. Why are they so desperate?"

"Were you here for Funaho's press release?" asked Washyuu.

"I heard it."

"Were you paying much attention?"

"No, sense—" a baseball bat stopped an inch from connecting with his head. "No, I didn't."

"Well, Funaho said they hadn't any spies for the purpose of sabotage or assassination inside the Protectorate."

"Isn't her word good enough for them?"

"She does strive for honesty," replied Washyuu, "but the GPs are listening to what she didn't say. She never said anything about spies being inside for intelligence gathering purposes. Also, she said that weapons can get to the black market, and entirely possible for rogue entities to use them, but she never confirmed it, except to deny that Jurai hadn't any part in it."

"What does this have to do with the GP's actions?"

"They basically think that the Empire's trying to fool them. They figure that Funaho is using her honesty to create a false impression, since they can't figure out which parts she's telling the truth about and which parts she's lying about. Therefore, they've decided to act in as defensive a way as possible, to cover all the bases."

"But what about that honor guard to keep an eye on the princesses?" asked Senbo. "I mean, Funaho hasn't called them off, so doesn't that count for anything?"

"It might," said Washyuu doubtfully. "It's hard to say, though. That sort of gesture may prove to be a double-edged sword."

---

"I trust that the results of the assassination are to your liking?"

"They are adequate for the task at hand."

"Indeed. With two of the dominant powers in the galaxy squaring off, all the other nations are bound to keep their attentions focused on them – thus, we will be able to move with near perfect impunity."

The meeting place was a dark room, the details of which were obscured by the lack of light. If the table of the meeting was any indication, it was a long room, possibly rectangular. The table itself was a source of light, but it was dim, serving only to illuminate the silhouettes of the meeting's attendees. Not even their features could be brought to light.

"How are preparations for the Crusade proceeding?"

"On schedule. We should be ready within two standard months."

"Excellent. It seems that everything is well in hand."

---

He had to make sure Ryoko wasn't looking before he could make his move, but eventually she had drifted off to a sound slumber.

Kyrin nodded, satisfied. "Ah, Ryo-Oh-Ki?"

A meow answered him. "Are you capable of materializing blocks of crystal?"

A meow to the affirmative. "If I were to use these blocks for training purposes, would it be painful or harmful to you?"

A meow to the negative. "Good. How many can you make?"

A pause, then a meow. "Whoa, I don't need that much. How does ten sound, approximately 6 feet tall and 3 feet thick?"

The crystals appeared in response. "Thank you!"

Checking to make sure that they were all jammed together, Kyrin squared up on the front one and set himself. He brought his fist forward in a twisting motion, slowly, hitting the same point on the crystals over and over again.

There'd been a time, once, when he'd been able to break through 10 crystals of such strength and density as those here. But ever since Kain had been separated from him, something seemed different about his strength.

He grimaced. This should prove an adequate test.

Three more warm ups. Here goes nothing.

Concentrating, bringing all thought to stillness, all emotion to void, he struck.

---

Kishi: I meant for there to be more updates throughout the summer, but of course, as soon as I get any time it all just disappears in family engagements and university preparations. Just wonderful.

Tenchi Muyo and all related paraphernalia are copyrighted to Masaki Kojishima, and distributed by AIC and Pioneer.

The only things that are mine are those things that I perceive as original, and thusly are mine. If you recognize an idea that you came up with first, all credit goes to you.

These days, it's a toss-up as to where anyone can contact me, but there should be an e-mail address in my profile…