red3

Just out of curiousity, seeing as I haven't seen Tenchi in *ages*, does anyone know what color eyes Yosho/Katsuhito has? If you do, *please* review and tell me, or email me at dragonmarquise@yahoo.com. You'd think he has red eyes like the rest of his family, but I seem to remember them being either black or brown instead. *Sigh!* It's so frustrating when you start realizing the tiny details you really ought to know, but don't.

Anyway, Setsuna/Pluto/Midori doesn't belong to me, as she is the property of Naoko Takeuchi, along with the rest of the Sailormoon characters that don't show up in this chapter. Setsuna with the blue-green eyes is my original little tweak, however, as is Setsuna/Pluto/Midori's nastiness of a so-called mother. Oh, and I don't own Tenchi Universe and the characters thereof, either.

On with the story . . .


Washu made sure to post the Do Not Disturb sign on the doorway to her lab. Not that she thought it would help . . . but anything was possible. The other morons in the house might actually pay attention for once. Except she wasn't quite sure if Mihoshi actually knew how to read . . .

And just who are you, I wonder? She asked the unconscious figure as she hooked the girl up to a cellular regenerator that she kept handy in her lab–just in case something serious ever did happen. What happened to you? She examined the figure closely. The burgundy T-shirt and black jeans had come off–and both, because of their color, had managed to disguise exactly how much blood their owner had spilled, and from how many places. As well, the spinal cord was almost completely severed . . . this girl had dislocated vertebrae, gotten up, and done the same thing all over again many times, it looked like, each time shoving the displaced vertebrae further and further toward–and eventually through–her spinal cord. She must have an awfully high pain threshold, to be able to withstand all that.

Washu shook her head with amazement. That this unknown person had taken that much damage and survived . . . it was lucky she had turned up here–not even the most modern of Terran doctors would be able to fix this much damage and have a significant chance of the patient living through the process. Strange coincidence, really. She turned her attention back to her Jurai power-meter, whistling cheerfully, as she waited for the girl to fully heal and wake up.

* * *

Washu looked at the regeneration chambers with a great deal of amazement. *No one* she knew of could be almost completely healed in such a short period of time as this girl had taken. The mystery surrounding her just continued to grow deeper and deeper.

Finally the regeneration chamber opened, and the green-haired girl stumbled out. My head . . . She muttered, then looked up. Oh, who are you?

Stunned for a brief moment by the girl's unexpectedly red eyes, Washu blinked before replying, I am Washu, the greatest scientific genius in the universe! Thunder crashes in the background. But you can call me Washu-chan. Kawaii smile. And who are you, young lady?

She drew herself up. I am . . . Pause. How strange. I can't remember.

Facefault. Let me get this straight. You are seriously mutilated by something, mutilations that include the severing of your spinal cord among other nasty injuries, and you CAN'T REMEMBER HOW IT HAPPENED?!

The green-haired girl wrinkled her forehead in thought. No, I can't say I do. Oh well, I'm fine now, right? I can walk, after all, so I must not be too badly damaged. Hair swished into her face and she grabbed a fistful. Ooh . . . nice color.

Washu wiped her face. This was shaping itself into a *very* long day. Okay, I can see you developing mental blocks as to whatever happened to you–since it must have been rather awful–but you should at least remember your own name!

Shrug. Sorry, I don't. Why don't we call me . . . um . . . I know! My hair is such a lovely shade of green, so you can call me Midori!

Facefault again. Washu pried herself painfully up off the ground. Okay then, Midori. I suppose, since you probably have no idea where you come from either . . . Nod. . . . that you'll be staying here for a while. I may even let you stay here with me, in my lab, since it is rather hectic out there. Now the first rule is, DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING! Unless you have my permission, of course. Kawaii smile.

Midori nodded. This . . . Washu-chan . . . was definitely going to take some getting used to.

But that, of course, is what made it fun, she acknowledged with a mental grin, as Washu began the lengthy process of introducing her to the lab.

* * *

As she peeked nervously around the doorway that separated Washu's lab from the rest of the house, Midori gave a small sigh of relief. No one. She stole through the house, not pausing much, eager to see the world outside again. Again . . . well, she assumed that she had been outside before, in her life before she lost her memory. So it technically was even though she couldn't remember ever having seen it.

Although now that she did . . . the beautiful blue sky, white clouds, green trees, and small blue lake looked exactly like she would have expected them to look, even though she hadn't expected anything. She spotted a set of stairs, and her face lit up. Stairs . . . they looked like great fun. Besides . . . Washu had told her a little about how the house ran–although she didn't know exactly how much to believe. Really, alien princesses and cat-like animals that transform into spaceships? But she supposed the shrine would be up those steps, and she really ought to go let the owner of this place, Tenchi's grandfather, know that he had another houseguest for the nonce.

She nodded and started up the stairs. Yes, she'd go talk to Masaki Katsuhito, Tenchi's grandfather. Maybe she'd get a chance to see Tenchi, too–and find out what it was about him that supposedly made every female living in the house fall in love with him. Even the cat-like spaceship.

* * *

Yosho stood easily, his sword at rest, as he watched his grandson kneel on the ground, panting to catch his breath. Honestly, Tenchi. I'd think you'd at least be able to hit an old man like me once. Tsk, you're really slowing down.

The boy raised his warm brown eyes to his grandfather. Grandpa, I doubt I will ever be as fast as you. You have several hundred years more to practice.

Yosho let a small smile come to his face. True, boy. True. But even by your own standards, that was not your best effort by a long shot. He frowned a slight, worried frown as he looked down on his grandson. You seemed distracted today. Is something wrong, Tenchi?

It's nothing, Grandpa. The boy replied as he climbed back to his feet.

Excuse me. A soft, feminine voice–and one unrecognized by either, something more surprising than its mere existence–interrupted their conversation before Yosho could pry further. Both turned to see a girl standing at the top of the steps, confusion slightly marring her complexion.

She had dark, forest green hair that fell loose a little past her shoulders–it looked very raggedly cut as well, as if the remained of her hair had just been chopped off by someone . . . or some*thing*. Her eyes were a garnet darker than Ayeka or Sasami's, a color that sparked a sense of deja vu deep within Yosho's brain. *Where* had he seen that shade of eyes before? He shunted the question to the back of his brain, until the time when he would have time to consider it fully.

Shunting himself back into the role of nice, harmless old man with the ease of hundreds of years of practice, Yosho smiled at the girl. Yes, can I help you?

The girl looked from him to Tenchi and back again, before shaking her head slightly–an almost imperceptible movement–and returning her eyes solely to Yosho. I was looking for Masaki Katsuhito? She tinged the last few words with a querying tone.

That would be me. Katsuhito stepped forward slightly. He didn't understand how she hadn't figured that out . . . how many old-looking men were there around here, anyway, after all? What did you want to tell me?

The girl raised an eyebrow. I see. The tone made it clear that she was just humoring him. Would you inform him that I'll be staying here, with Washu, for a while? Or perhaps she wasn't even bothering to try to humor him.

His eyebrows lowered. It had been quite a long time since someone had dared to doubt him like this stranger did. I *am* Katsuhito. Why don't you believe me?

The girl smiled sweetly. Because there is no way you are old enough to be a teenager's father, much less *grandfather*. She turned and left, leaving an aghast Yosho and a bemused Tenchi behind her.

Soon after, he let Tenchi go back down to the house and rushed into the shrine. He brought out a small mirror. Grey hair, somewhat wrinkled face . . . his illusion of age had not fallen, as he had feared when the girl so easily saw through it. But . . .

Back out in front of the shrine, he went into a complex sword kata, exerting his body as he furiously exerted his mind at the same time. *How* in the world had the girl seen through his illusion? Tenchi, his own grandson, had never been able to see through it. Neither of his *half-sisters* had ever seen through this illusion, continuing on in the belief that life on such a backwater planet had prematurely aged him.

Well . . . he thought sometimes that Tsunami might know the truth. The few times he had her, she always seemed slightly amused . . . but Tsunami was a goddess! The twenty-thousand year old self-proclaimed greatest scientific genius in the universe! had never doubted his age, and as for the Galaxy Police officers and Ryoko . . . they had no reason and no way to even try.

So, even when none of his closest family had never suspected, how was it that this total stranger had seen through his illusion so thoroughly that she hadn't even realized that it existed?

It was a puzzle, and a very intriguing one.

* * *

Midori, too, was thinking. She sat on a large flat stone by the small lake, idly tossing pebbles in and watching the ripples. When she appeared at the shrine, she had seen two young men, one with a small pigtail and one with a long ponytail, both with silky-looking black hair. Washu had described Tenchi pretty thoroughly (almost ad nauseum, in fact . . .), so she had not trouble identifying the pigtailed youth.

But Washu hadn't even mentioned the other youngish (twenty to twenty-five years old, tops) man–who, incidentally, Midori thought looked like a much better catch than Tenchi. He moved with unconscious grace, held the sword like it was an extension of his body and not an awkward tool. Of course, once the other man opened his mouth . . .

Blushing slightly with anger, she picked up a pebble and threw it particularly hard, so that it impacted on the tree growing out of the lake rather near the side she sat on. He had tried to convince her that *he* was Katsuhito, a grandfather, a man who Washu had clearly described as having *grey* hair . . . that infuriating boy.

But . . . she stilled. The thing was, he seemed genuinely surprised and slightly distressed when she refused to believe him. And there was also the fact that when she had originally asked about Katsuhito, Tenchi had immediately–almost reflexively–turned to look at the other young man. *He* seemed to believe.

So immersed was she in her considerations that she didn't even notice when the first droplets of rain began to fall.

* * *

Yosho slowly climbed down the stairs from the shrine towards the house, ignoring the rain falling steadily more heavily on him. Sure, he could have splurged power and erected a shield to keep out the rain . . . or brought an umbrella, for that matter. But why bother? He didn't mind the rain.

A splash of color seen out of the corner of his eyes arrested his motion towards the house, as he noticed the strange mystery girl, sitting on a flat rock near the lake and ignoring the rain even more thoroughly than he himself was. He walked over. I never did catch your name, miss . . .?

The girl looked up, her face going immediately neutral as soon as she saw exactly who had interrupted her. I'm going by Midori for the time being . . . you really are Katsuhito, aren't you.

He nodded. I truly am. As much as anyone could be said to be.

She stood, her eyes boring into his. Then why does everyone think you're an old man?

A slight, enigmatic smile. Because everyone . . . except you, for some incomprehensible reason . . . sees an old man when they look at me. It was my decision to put on the appearance of age, instead of trying to explain why I stayed eternally young. He motioned towards the house. Now, shall we go inside? If you are going to be staying here, you should get to know the rest of the family as well. Midori nodded her head in silent assent, and they began the short walk back to the house.

* * *

Dripping wet and completely ignoring that small detail, Midori and Yosho entered the dry house. As if by some unseen cue, a sweet young voice chimed out Dinner's ready!

Already almost in the dining room, Midori was in the perfect place to witness the entrance of the other members of the house. Tenchi was already there, smiling shyly at a young girl with turquoise hair. A *WHOOSH* and a pink-haired blur from the direction of the dimensional portal resolved itself into Washu, the only person familiar to Midori at this point.

Another *WHOOSH* and blur, this time with purple hair, rushed in from the direction of the stairs, resolving itself into a girl with red eyes who sat in the seat next to Tenchi and immediately glomped onto the boy's arm. Then the last humanoid member of the household phased into existence a couple of feet above the table and floated gently down to claim the place on Tenchi's other side and glomp onto his other arm.

Midori was beginning to feel sorry for the poor boy. Still, she couldn't restrain a small smile at the silliness of the situation.

Both Ryoko and Ayeka saw the smile and, more importantly, the *unfamiliar* girl whose face it was currently gracing. Who are you? They demanded, voices oddly synchronized. You can't have Lord/Tenchi, he's mine!

They turned to scowl at each other. And Midori laughed. Calm down, I don't want him.

Unified blink from every single person in the room.

Eventually, as the food came out of the kitchen, one by one the inhabitants of the room reluctantly turned their attention away from what must be one of the only young women in the world–no, make that universe!–who *didn't* immediately fall in love with Tenchi upon meeting him.

About halfway through the meal, Washu looked up. Oh yeah, I almost forgot! I think I know how to cure your amnesia, Midori!

Chibi-Washu A popped up on one shoulder Washu-chan is such a genius!

Chibi-Washu B popped up on the other shoulder. The greatest genius in the entire universe!

Both, Yay for Washu-chan!!

Patented mad-scientist-Washu laugh. That's right!

Blink, blink. Midori reached out and poked Chibi-Washu A gently. Are those things alive?

All three Washus looked mildly offended. Of course we are. They chorused.

Blink.

* * *

See, we attach this lead here, and that clippie-thingy there, and wrap this wire around your waist and tape the electromagnet to the middle of your forehead . . . all right! Now you're ready. Washu smiled evilly.

Through the cotton balls stuffed in her cheeks, Midori mumbled, What does all this stuff do, anyway?

Most of it . . . is absolutely pointless! Washu announced proudly.

Facefault.

Now, I want you to go into that box there and stand very straight. Good. Now don't move a muscle. Washu flipped a switch and pressed several buttons, before turning back to the green-haired girl. All she had to do now was sit back and watch the fireworks.

Unfortunately to her mind, at first it didn't seem there would be any. Midori's muscles looked as she stared blankly at a point somewhere about a foot above Washu's head. The invention seemed to be working, and Washu began to congratulate herself. Too early by half.

A red light slowly appeared, seemingly seeping out through the pores in Midori's skin, growing in intensity until she was glowing with a light the same garnet color as her eyes. Then, the light seemed to flex, stretching out to the side as another figure–identical to Midori in all ways that Washu could see through the interference of the red light–assembled itself out of nothingness. For a moment, the light paused, still engulfing both figures, before being sucked, not back into Midori's body, but into the unconscious body of her twin that had shown up so abruptly.

Midori slid bonelessly to the ground, and Washu looked down at the two figures with a great deal of confusion and annoyance. The stupid machine was only supposed to restore her memories, not create a copy of her! Pause. With much longer, neatly cut hair done up partially in a bun. She stalked over to the machine and kicked it. Even if I don't really understand how yet, She paused dramatically, then yelled at the top of her lungs, MIHOSHI! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!!


End Notes: Hee hee! I couldn't resist. I really, really, tried hard, but I just couldn't resist adding in that last part. It just seemed so fitting!

And I really did intend to permanently get rid of Setsuna . . . but she's such a nice person, she doesn't deserve to be obliviated. So she's back in for good. How? Well . . . I think the Garnet Orb took a hand in things. After all, since Setsuna, *not* Midori, is the one who actually brought it into existence, it would probably take the chance to bring back its owner. Or perhaps Setsuna just fell in through a handy plot hole. I don't really know.

Anyway, how much of her memory should Setsuna retain? Midori knows nothing, but I'm not sure yet whether I want Setsuna to remember everything (probably not), nothing (like Midori, and probably what will end up happening if no one persuades me otherwise), or just selective portions–say, cut off right before they recombined in the middle of Sailormoon S, or whatever?