Sanctuary&Asylum[.33]

by Negative-Z

Over-ambition-marries-cliche-that-we-hold-the-sun-yet-rue-the-day.

5. Verse Five is Master Part 1&2

---------------------------

Standard Disclaimer:

I thank all the owners of the Tenchi characters who have chosen not to sue me for suggesting some alternative uses for them.

Standard Advertisement:

I thank all the readers who have perused my other submissions and favorite authors.

Standard Procedure:

When entering another's home or church, be passively curious about the proper etiquette to observe.



^Tenchi Muyo: Sanctuary and Asylum^

-Verse Five-



Master (Part 1)



As a hero's isolation---compliments a villain's fame.

Save the guests of honor---and the prisoners of shame.

As a hero's indecision---requires a villain's regret.

Save the prize and title---until the stage is set.

-ZJS



Emperor Azusa always looked out over the entire expanse of his kingdom, his throne room just happened to be in the most immediate vicinity. The perpetual living entertainment lingered wherever they didn't lounge, looking beautiful, or juggling, or playing elegant music on expensive harps and flutes. It was very important to always have people doing something in his presence, and muted artisans who lived to perform could do so freely at relatively low cost.

They were only permitted to look at their partial reflections in the large decorative pool, its water touched only by a wide platform connecting Azusa's side of the room to the other. He couldn't very well do his work without some kind of buffer between himself and the daily gathering of nobles and ambassadors, but he wouldn't feel very righteous making them all wait outside. Truth be told, he often took greater amusement from the antics of these performers than from the ones who were less wealthy, more truly honored, and happier to be there.

The latest audience granted to a lesser western noble had finished and the well-dressed beggar was doing a poor job in not sulking away. Having forgotten the conversation halfway through its formal closing, the image of the departing man struck the Emperor as softly as a sweet wine dream. A sleepy smile brightened one side of his face and he closed his eyes to gesture in the next appointment. He listened closely to the various parties gathered across the room, each assembled and broken off in various groups. There might be an argument over who was next. He certainly hoped so; it was the easiest way to get real information out of them.

Queens Misaki and Funaho entered behind them, unannounced and without escort, though 'unannounced' couldn't really be said for the huge doors that bellowed open for them. Despite the comedy of so many nobles falling over each other to simultaneously humble themselves while flattering his wives, Azusa frowned and sat more rigid on his throne. Like parting water, each minstrel bowed a little further as the distinctly matched steps passed by.

"My loves. I was not expecting you today." The gentle misunderstanding in his voice hardly matched the intensity in his face.

They did not answer.

Azusa's frown flattened, but his brow pressed more tightly together. He fingered a small series of buttons on the right arm of the throne and a pleasing bell rang over the entire room. The high-class elevator was ready.

One by one but practically as one, the minstrels each rose, bowed again without raising their eyes, and began a calm exodus from the throne room. After the first few passed the groups of nobility a few Dukes looked from them back to their Emperor, just able to see the annoyance on his face. Taking the hint double-quick the second time they all but pushed the minstrels and each other aside to be out the door first.

The uniformed guards followed suit when all the dressed up occupants had left, the last one bowing mechanically and closed the door behind him. Another slightly lower bell toned and a transparent, barely visible curtain of energy began dragging itself over the entire room, moving towards them like a full sail. When it passed over the queens the emperor closed his eyes, and when it completely passed through him into the wall he opened them.

They were both staring up at him, calm formality hiding Misaki's tears and perhaps something a little more vengeful in Funaho. Without asking, without guessing, without needing to show he needed to do neither, Azusa closed his eyes and breathed in contemplation of the issue he facing him.

He thought on how dangerous things had been in the kingdom during Sasami's ceremony, the lengths gone through to make sure that it was still grand with so very few people in attendance. How easily she'd been convinced that letters to her and her sister had needed to be destroyed as a matter of national security. How quickly she had rejected his suggestion to bring all her earth friends and family to Jurai, and never return. He remembered meeting Aeka's ship moments after it emerged from the artificial wormhole, transporting Sasami to her, and kindly requesting that they come back when they were ready to stay.

One or both of his wives had been present during all these proceedings, and both of them had always appeared to support the motivation behind them. It had been a week since Ryo-oh's brief and secret presence, and no less than a week since the Queens confronted him of the farce in the warlike alert around their daughters' visits. He'd had that long to consider and reconsider things and be ready if their silence had not been acceptance. Now his wives were demanding audience, crossing their arms and tapping their feet with only a visit and only a look.

"Two thousand years," Azusa began, opening his eyes to stare at his entire kingdom and, in his immediate vicinity, the ones he shared it with.

Misaki's eyes began to widen and moisten, while Funaho maintained her serenity with slow blinks.

"I told him I could wait another two thousand years. That was a little more than a year ago."

"We were there my Lord." Funaho answered with the plane voice of bitterly confirmed suspicions.

"And you are ^here^ now. Nothing more need be said." Cold authority slowed time around his already ancient form.

"Maybe the people need to know." Misaki spoke up, surprising Azusa and even Funaho. She took no notice and continued. "Maybe we've kept it from them for too long."

Azusa braved Funaho's eyes, both of them all but ignoring the Second Queen as she sniffed back a tear. Understanding passed down, at last Funaho broke the stare and the silence, speaking softly to the floor.

"Indeed, we have."

Misaki looked over at her sister Queen, confused and nearly shaking. Seeming to feel the attention, Funaho raised her head and spoke to the one just beside her while facing the one slightly above her.

"Perhaps too long now to give it to them all at once."

Rising slowly from his throne, descending the steps half way, speaking as he walked, Azusa closed their private meeting and reopened the doors to the ministers and minstrels. Not necessarily in that order.

"Another 2000 years, by then the divisions within the system will have weakened it enough. Our people will be ready for change."

***

A duo of footsteps shuffled through the forest, falling in and out of sync with each other. Different voices took focused turns, exchanging pained nervousness with calm compassion, the telltale sound of counsel. The Shinto priest Katshuhito walked alongside one of the youngest returning visitors to the Misaki shrine. Mr. Jenjuri wore his face like his fine yet sensible clothes, with the mixture of confidence and regret that comes from middle age. He kept his hands close to his body to look merely embarrassed when he was truly ashamed.

"Thank you for offering to walk me back to my car. I know these woods are probably safer than any ally in the cities, but walking alone they can still be kinda...creepy."

"You haven't been listening to those old stories about a demon in that cave have you?"

"No, no of course not," he laughed weakly.

"Well, it's the least I can do for a patron such as yourself, if I get any visits during the week it's usually from the elderly or tourists."

"I guess it' s not surprising, the big Churches are real popular these days. My half-sister keeps trying to drag me along to their services, but I don't know. Those huge crowds of people singing and reciting together, seems more like trying to get into a club than trying to find peace."

"Hm," Katshuhito judged with as little judgment as possible.

"But each to their own I guess." The passive tolerance exercise completed.

"You still haven't told me what's really bothering you, Mr. Jenjuri."

"Well, it's kind of hard to explain."

"Don't worry, it's usually not that hard to listen," Katshuhito smiled at his own old man's wit. Mr. Jenjuri chuckled weakly again and paid extra attention to the ground in front of him.

"I'm unhappy a lot lately," he began, pulling his elbows further into his ribs to resist the urge to hug himself into a ball.

"I'm sorry to hear that, why do you think this is?" Like all good healers, Katshuhito indirectly let his patient know that they were not alone without making them feel like a statistic.

"I-I don't know exactly, my life just seems really unsatisfying sometimes, like everything I do is worthless."

"Are you seeing your life as unsatisfying, or un-stimulating?" Katshuhito asked sincerely, trying not to sound critical.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you upset because your life is not good, or because your life is not great. There is a difference between wanting to be significant and wanting to be special. Perhaps you have an abundance of ambition, rather than a lack of ability."

"I don't know, I just get frustrated with myself. I'm not all too afraid of failure, but the things I do accomplish aren't making me happy. My work doesn't give me any pride any more, and to be my age and unmarried---it's still upsetting to me, not to mention my parents. But I worry that even if I did find a wife, start a family, I would end up feeling like I'd simply gone through the motions of a factory machine without actually making anything, or something like that."

The confession came in with less of the usual hesitation and stammering, but with only the soft fluid quality of someone speaking to themselves. Katshuhito inhaled a thought, blinking slowly, patiently waiting for the answer to be in front of him when he opened his eyes. All either of them could see was the forest and a small, dissatisfied man.

"I mean, I look at my brother and, well he's my half-brother in law actually, you know, my half-sister's husband. Anyway, I keep wanting to ask him what his secret is. He's got a beautiful family, he's always bragging about his job, and he seems like he enjoys simply eating breakfast more than I enjoy anything."

Mr. Jenjuri's face clenched a little as he looked up but still not to his side. The envy leaking out the corner of his eye seemed to be distantly flirting with resentment. Katshuhito frowned slightly and did what he did every time before kendo practice. He tried to focus on the energy around and within him that he considered the essence of what was good in life, inviting it to cleanse and support his spirit. At last he felt a sensation in his mind not unlike relaxing a clenched fist.

"We will always be able to think about things we desire that other people have, and we almost always have something that some other person would want. I'm sure your brother in law probably envies you for not always having to come along to his wife's services."

"Hm, maybe." He smiled helplessly at the soft humor in the old man's voice.

"But there are even more things we would shun that others have in abundance. If you cannot recognize that you are more fortunate than you could be; at least try to cure your dissatisfaction by your own means. You have a greater chance of achieving your own happiness than achieving your brother's."

Katshuhito walked in silence with Mr. Jenjuri till they reached the edge of a small dirt lot by the mountain road that served as shrine parking. The priest was thanked again in a distant voice and given a polite goodbye, the sun reflected tiny dots of light from his spectacles onto the patron's departing shadow. Both faces remained lost in thought as the humble car disappeared behind trees.

---

Even strides carried Yosho back to his shrine, wondering if his guise as the older-looking priest Katshuhito made his advice seem any more or less sound. Normally the silence of the forest was very calming, but for a moment of no reason he felt extremely cold and almost faint. He shook his head and looked for the sun to judge how much time would be left before Tenchi's practice.

"You were listening to him well enough, but do you think he was listening to you?"

The sensual confidence behind him startled Yosho into a fighting stance. There was nothing in Seita's hands but his hands, folded casually at his waste, and nothing in his expression but a friendly greeting. Ancient instincts relaxed and stood straight again, showing no concern at the hopeless height difference. The unexpected guest leaned his shoulders on a large pine near the path, bending his stiff body at the neck to keep head parallel to trunk. A few strands of blond caught in grooves of bark made Yosho wonder at the last time he'd let his own hair out.

The outfit of the moment was so oversized that it looked inspired by a child making snow angels; the sleeves of his shirt and the pant legs all hung widely about his thin frame. Both pieces were made from the same cloth, nearly turning the outfit into something that might as well have been a robe, or a dress. Any similarity in shape to Katshuhito's own Shinto garments seemed only coincidental. He tried not to stare, but the colors looked so out of place in a natural environment. Red wine lightly intertwined with either lightning arcs or crinkled veins of neon blue, a combination ready to melt into a most hideous purple at any moment.

"Good afternoon Seita, how long have you been about in the forest?" Yosho asked politely.

"Not very long."

Although there was no sign of avoidance or deceit in the young man's voice, Yosho still considered Seita's professed ability to observe the universe indefinitely from within his 'empty' dimension. It was clear that they might stand there for quite a while if someone didn't speak up or make a move. Katshuhito, the priest, decided to do both.

"Would you like to join me for a cup of tea?" The invitation came almost formally as he turned back onto the path.

"Thank you, but perhaps some other time. Professor Washu is still analyzing my physiology to see how it might react to some of the different agents here. She said the food and the air were alright, but to hold off on drinking anything but filtered water." Seita declined after a hesitant smile.

"I understand."

Yosho was surprised at an instant lack of desire to convince the newcomer that tea was little more than that, but he bowed politely and continued walking. Seita joined him at a lively then matching pace.

"So, do you think he was listening as well as you were?" Slightly taller looked down to show much older that he would not have the subject changed on him.

A sudden irritation stirred in Yosho's throat, but rather than ask what concern it was of his, he calmed himself and answered with a patient and worldly tone.

"I suppose that remains to be seen."

"Yes-yes, but do ^you^ think he did?" Seita pressed after chuckling at someone who'd made an unimaginative chess move. Yosho's passive wall stood calm.

"It is not for me to say."

"Maybe not for you to ^know^, but I think you can say."

This confident persistence made him realize that there would be no tolerance for boring conversations with the new guest. After looking at Seita again, Yosho wondered why he hadn't figured this out already.

"Sometimes people can be too deep in a problem to see the solutions standing before them. But Mr. Jenjuri is an intelligent man, I think that he will at least consider my advice."

"Do you think he wants a better self, or a new self altogether?" The playful confidence in Seita's voice left without warning, replaced with a seriousness that might have come from a fellow priest Mr. Jenjuri had spoken to.

"I'm not sure." Yosho considered the sudden change in the discussion's mood for a moment. "Hopefully he does not believe he can achieve the latter."

"Hm." Paused in turn, a small amount of playful challenge returned in half a smile.

"What do ^you^ think Mr. Seita?" Rather than bluntly accuse him of eves dropping, Yosho mercilessly counter attacked the conversation's aggressor in his moment of hesitation.

"Just 'Seita' is fine---Katshuhito." He added the little spoken first name after smiling wider at the abrupt change in tone.

"Perhaps if I knew your family name I'd be more inclined to address you without it." His voice went patient enough to let anyone 'earn' a first name basis.

Seita's face tightened an idea and the silence till his priest looked over, willing to exorcise both.

"I thought I had explained that the name of my old life would no longer suit me, or my extinct family. Names are usually either practical or vain." He blinked slowly at the path ahead. "You can call me 'Mr. Seita' if you wish."

Yosho was prepared to feel guilt for the suppressed self-pity he'd brought out, prepared, even willing, but unmotivated. They walked in silence a little further. Ever patient and hopeful, he watched for the usual face Seita wore when luxuriously enjoying the scenery, when it did not return he decided to change the subject.

"I've been meaning to tell you how much I appreciate the work you've contributed to the household. I must admit I was surprised that someone of your 'experience' would have such a talent for domestic chores."

A sincere compliment might still change the air of their soured conversation.

"And compared to the squabbles that break out between the girls, you seem to get along well enough with everyone."

"I think Aeka's still a little cross with me, but thank you. This is such a wonderful home and it's an honor to make it more so." Seita smiled with complete willingness to start fresh again.

"Tenchi certainly has more time for his studies and training now...I'm sure he'll be more grateful for that later." The joke was thankfully picked up with a chuckle, though it sounded as if he'd found an obscure angle to it.

"Which reminds me," Yosho continued, "have you ever taken any self defense training?"

"Excuse me?" A wry eye suggested he wanted to reply with a 'why'.

"Well, Tenchi and I have been practicing for a while now, but it's important to test one's skill against a variety of styles. I thought since you and he worked so well in the field together you both might want to try your hands at some sword practice."

"Oh no, no thank you." Seita extended, almost exaggerated humility. "If it's all the same to you I'd much rather just help him with his homework."

"Are you sure?" Yosho dared to offer some your-own-medicine and received a wide and very certain smile.

"Believe me, I don't want anything to do with any kind of physical violence."

"I see." Yosho, in fact, had never seen him look so serious yet still so playfully arrogant. Just before he began to wonder at the guest's choice of words, their old debate returned, apparently called back by his friendly echo of Seita's approach.

"Do you still want to know what I think about Mr. Jenjuri?"

Paused near the bottom of the shrine steps, Yosho wondered if this offered a second chance to simplify things with some tea.

"Certainly."

Fingertips together in a wedge, Seita lifted the meditative gesture to his chest. He closed his eyes and exhaled.

"It's the fiction." Sensual voice again, though lined with formality.

"I beg your pardon." Yosho's face spread in opposing directions at the cryptic answer.

"Stories, fantasies, ^they^ are causing so much of the anxiety in people like Mr. Jenjuri."

"I'm not sure I follow."

Seita closed his eyes and spread his arms out as if he were about to take flight, making a near curtain from his blanketing attire. Spectacles bucked in a blink of surprise as the slight frame seemed to flatten like dough while the cloth spread thin. Within seconds Seita's head was perched surrealistically above a small stage curtain like a thoughtful cross between the opposing drama masks. Yosho reminded himself forcefully that the guest's ability to make such illusions came as a second nature, and resisted the urge to look at the man behind the curtain.

"Storytelling began as the best way to transmit information, and document real events." The stage head lectured smoothly while the curtain parted to reveal a few cave-dwelling people gathered about a fire. Each was focused on a man who stood on a rock, using course language and gestures to describe a fight with a large animal. The miniature stage and actors were so elaborate that Yosho leaned in closer, waiting for some string or anomaly of light to give away the doll-sized figures. He noticed Seita smiling smugly at him and tried to swallow his discomfort at being given such a convincing, if albeit impressive, hallucination. The curtains closed and opened again faster than any man could pull a rope and changed scenes like a slide show.

"Eventually stories developed into a way to...^teach^ social, and religious values." Seita looked back down at the new gathering of slightly less ancient people. Yosho could only assume that he was able to construct such a detailed living diorama of a European church by the hours he spent looking through almost every book in the house.

The director's stage surpassed a screen, presented with all the vivid realism of an open window. His lone audience member had little doubt that he might be able to step right into the wide rows of little pews. Unaware of the much larger but nearly petrified competitor leaning toward him, gold and ivory plumpness read from an antiquated leather-bound book. The language might have been Latin, but the echo was too distant.

"And so, ^stories^ were intended for a practical purpose. Even when exaggerated, or 'rearranged' from being passed down, they were to be taken seriously, the actions of the characters either directly aspired to, or shunned."

He stressed his choice of words overtly, almost to the point of questioning his audience's depth of understanding. When the curtain fell slowly and failed to reopen Yosho looked back up at the elegant narrating gargoyle to find that he was already looking back at him. A questioning, yet not misunderstanding look reflected back.

"This affects Mr. Jenjuri the way it continues to affect people in almost all modern cultures, this 'fiction-affliction', or 'fiction-addiction' in some cases. You see, using storytelling as a means for idle entertainment is not just a mutation, but also a ^perversion^ of its intended purpose. The power of stories, when waved around like a common plaything, can cause subtle, but lasting damage."

The curtain opened again, revealing a young boy, similar in appearance to Noboyuki when he was a child, pacing outside a comic book store. Moments after the shop-keep lets him in he sprints out the door and off the stage. Without bothering for a curtain pull, the scene instantly faded into his room just as he burst into it. Past issues are proudly displayed on one and a half of the walls.

He reads the story anxiously, and after an obvious time lapse, puts it up, not with relief, but with more anticipant anxiety for the empty space next to it. Sayta narrates calmly, but there is an almost sarcastic jeer at the situation.

"How ingrained the instinct is, to attach importance to story characters, and how easily exploited. The mundane failings of one's own existence simply fade away when one is consumed with the drama and glory of another's 'life'. A small wonder why such fortunes are made from fantasies.

"And a sad irony that heroes and villains, once used to mold the characters of countless children, must now be discarded as 'not real', that 'imagined' people cannot be trusted. Parents have little choice but to show their children select portions of 'reality' for fear of the unrealistic or ^twisted^ ideals these new kinds of stories might project."

The curtain closed slow and opened slower into a young adult's bedroom, this one containing a shrine to an unrealistically proportioned future- chic. The wall was papered with pictures. Candles reflected eerily off of a supporting display of three-dimensional merchandise. The youth knelt, holding a candle up to the icon and breathing heavily.

"Ah, the line between admiration and obsession, how thin it is in worlds so inundated with fictional characters. People can be so torn by whether to view a story as a strict lesson or a pleasant diversion.

Seita breathed audibly. Yosho chose not to look up.

"But perhaps it is poetic justice for the very tool used in civilizing societies to eventually cause people to abandon them. The desire to teach can be so quickly overshadowed by the desire to escape, and escape they do. So much more interesting are the characters that they are exalted and even emulated like the heroes and prophets and martyrs of old.

"Most of the time such devotees will contend themselves with fantasies in which they are---'respected' by their own deified concept of the characters. The distraction becomes the ideal, the ideal becomes the replacement, and always the unobtainable will ^fester^ desire like nothing else."

The curtain closes again, slow and fluid as Seita's voice. Yosho could feel the stage director's gaze on him but kept his own on the curtain. The priest held his chin and grinded his brow into his glasses, knowing that the almost darkly cynical dark explanation was far from over. When the curtain opened again the same youth was dressed in an elaborate and unflattering imitation of his icon's attire, obsessively applying makeup inches away from a small mirror.

"Although desire and envy often hold hands, it happens often enough that desire is simply a symptom of envy. Simply put: people will idolize those whose power they covet. Rather than emulate or at least learn from the characters, they wish to ^become^ them."

The repulsive yet pitiful scene climaxes as the young man goes into various exaggerated poses. Fat rolls imitate curves and stretch marks pass for battle scars. At any moment Seita would chuckle at the man's delusion with cold understanding, Yosho was as sure of it as the fan was of his place on the next issue's cover. With slight hesitation, the priest looked up to meet the look of perverse enjoyment on the puppet master's face.

His expression was entirely blank despite the almost mocking tone with which he spoke. When their eyes met Yosho saw something that was not exactly sadness, but that could be described as nothing else. The curtain fell while the "star" continued to gyrate himself about the stage. Seita's hands reappeared at the corners, and his clothing shrank back onto him slightly more proportioned than it had been. Both men held their hands behind their backs, contemplating something below the other's face.

"What does all this have to do with Mr. Jenjuri you ask." Seita spoke formally, retaining only a hint of his cold eloquence, "Though I doubt his case is the same in specifics, it is likely the same in principle."

"Please explain." Critical yet sincere interest covered Yosho's discomfort.

"By blurring the line between education and entertainment, people can become confused with regards to who they are and who they ^should^ be. Hybrids of ways to enhance and ways to escape the mind, uncertainty of the hero and the villain---the teacher and the fool, the resulting subjectivity can create inner chaos. Mr. Jenjuri is bombarded with opposing and mixed messages, each one increasing his doubt and thus his dissatisfaction. He may not idolize any fictional characters, but since people often know only each others' personas, his half brother in law may be just as surreal."

Seita looked back down the path as if he could still see the man's car driving away while his audience took a step forward and turned, following the gaze and thoughtful expression.

"And so how would you help him?"

"If he cannot develop standards by which to separate the values of education and entertainment, then perhaps he would be better off as another deluded imitation." Seita hid the sigh of a deep inhale as a steady breeze passed through valley.

"After confining myself in that empty dimension for so long, where it seemed time would stop for me, almost a ghost spying around the universe--- I could tell him-"

The wind picked up, bringing the trees and some blonde hair to life. A thin strip of bark fell like a cumbersome piece of confetti straggling in long after the parade. Yosho watched blue eyes follow it eagerly and was not surprised when the man shot out his hand to catch it. Seita continued, tracing the grooves with his fingertips.

"-that living vicariously-"

Paused again, he held the delicate cast off next to his ear like a conch shell. He crushed it in his hand with a luxurious smile, visibly savoring the sound and texture.

"-is not."

Yosho watched the guest dust his hands, exchanged a farewell bow, and watched him walk back to the house, still wondering if he should have tried further to invite him for some tea.

***

Ryoko reached out and limply selected a lucky sake bottle from her mob of adoring fans. She rotated it on its edge, encouraging a dance in the face of the many others who had tumbled over and rolled off the coffee table. When she felt it slipping out from beneath her fingertip she made no move to save it, letting it fall and travel to the edge with a sharp clink that rang out louder than it should have. A few drops of saki dripped out as she closed her eyes with a lethargic groan.

"You shouldn't drink so much Ryoko, you're going to get a headache."

Mihoshi's concern penetrated the thick ooze in Ryoko's mind with hideous clarity. A helpless loathing bubbled in her throat, ready to answer the kind advice with bile. But one surly look would have to suffice. Protect and serve another time, Mihoshi retreated back to her formless knitting but couldn't find her smile.

Ryoko sat up roughly and clutched the newly doubled pain in her head, moaning louder that anticipating the effect did not lessen it. She sat back roughly, letting her hair tumble over the edge of the couch. After that last drink every perception had come to her through a bitter veil. Every object in the house inspired a cloudy loathing, and thus, by comparison, the neutral ceiling provided a small escape.

A rising pain in her neck rang amidst the others like a cheap imitation and was easily ignored. The pleasant euphoria she'd found so many times in excessive quantities of sake had drowned and congealed into a sludge.

*Why haven't I passed out yet? Now I feel even worse than I did before.

*I guess I shouldn't be surprised though, none of the other times worked. I drank, got all flustered, couldn't coordinate, then passed out---but what was on my mind never left, it just got softer and farther away.

She wanted to scream, to sob, to somehow expel what she'd poured over herself. All that came was another groan after her hand slapped over her forehead. Counting the lines on the ceiling suddenly seemed as appealing as anything but the screen door made her loose count at 33. She cranked her heavy head up, burst another bubble of pain inside it, and squinted at the next rotten person to enter her rotten world. The sight was so strange that she chuckled humorlessly, a sarcastic attempt to open one last deal with her executioner.

"Suh you goin fer the ^angelick^ look now?"

Seita only closed half the door. He found something very intriguing on the handle and took almost a minute to shut it all the way. Mihoshi looked over her shoulder and smiled what Nobuyuki had described to Tenchi as her "Seita Smile". In response, he ignored her completely and walked towards Ryoko. Though his hands hung loosely in his curtain sleeves, his face gave the impression that he was holding a gun to her drunken head, calmly demanding that she answer an important question.

"Excuse me Ryoko?"

All the imposing posing was answered with a flutter of heavy eyelids and a lifeless belch.

"And where'd all your hair go?"

"Huh?" Mihoshi looked back and forth between them in utter confusion and empathetic tension. "What are you talking about Ryoko? He's wearing the same thing he was wearing this morning."

"Indeed I am," Seita spoke directly to the intoxicated witness, still unblinking as he made his meditative hand arch with affected precision.

"I may be drunk Mihoshi, but I'm not blind!" Ryoko snapped with classic intoxicated fervor, and continued with her evaluation with a limp hand dangled out at like a rotten sausage link.

"Just look, he's wearing plain white pants and a white shirt---they look cheap, like what someone would wear in a hospital or something. And his face is all scruffy now. Hm, maybe he forgot his compact." She finished with a snort.

An airy hiss sucked in through his teeth, and he looked down at Mihoshi, calmly commanding her to refute Ryoko's claim. The officer's reasonable doubt recoiled slightly and shook in her eyes.

"I-I don't see what you're talking about. Seita, are you doing a trick for just Ryoko?"

He focused back at his accuser, but she was clearly in no position to focus on anything. His own judging finger pointed towards the coffee table and within seconds Mihoshi was staring intensely in the same direction. The shamefully impressive collection began to stand and organize, fallen comrades rapidly forming a pyramid to obscure Ryoko's face.

"I'm doing a trick ^now^ Ryoko, what kind is it?" He was trying to maintain his usual soft, confident tone, but a venomous growl seemed to be climbing his throat.

"The sake's making a-" Mihoshi began.

"^Ryoko^...what-do-you-see?" He almost slapped the interruption with the strict redirecting of his question.

"Are you gonna make the sake drink itself or something, or are you gonna make it talk to me like they say it does on the TV?" Ryoko mocked the lack of magic emanating from his finger.

"But Ryoko, can't you see, all your bottles made a neat pyramid...but I guess ^I'm^ just seeing that, right Sayta? Maybe she saw them dance, or talk, or-

Seita ignored her and looked up and down from Ryoko's loathsome, wilting state back to the obvious cause of it. When his smile came it somehow relief into one of the most unwholesome things possible. The bottles fell from grace to their original arrangement in soundless the blink of an eye. Mihoshi looked back over at him, slightly fearful of his next question or answer.

"Nevermind Mihoshi, I don't think Ryoko's in any state now to enjoy my talents." His confidence returned in full, and he began to walk towards the stairs.

"But I don't get it, you still don't look angelic to me. I mean, you don't look ^bad^ or anything. Uh, I mean-" Mihoshi tripped over her tongue with an exasperated blush.

"Uggggh, why don't I leave you two alone. Maybe I'm wrong and he's actually been naked the whole time."

Ryoko's remark was snide rather than sarcastic. Though the slur had subsided, the excessive surliness remained in the air even after she teleported away. Mihoshi couldn't think past her slowly overwhelming embarrassment. Seita looked down at and sighed at the now typical way she tried to turn transparent when turning red in front of him.

"Has anyone seen Ryoko." Aeka asked crossly as she rounded the corner.

"You just missed her Aeka." Mihoshi spoke to the remote as she eagerly turned on anything to hide in.

"Well it's her turn to clean the bathroom, and she'd better be back soon."

"Princess Aeka, if I am not mistaken, today was my day to clean the bathroom." Seita charmed, though he also spoke in a different direction.

"Oh." Aeka changed her barely muted anger into surprise. "Is it now? I could have sworn-."

"I think I'll take care of it nonetheless."

***

"I hope that Lord Tenchi and Miss Ryoko are alright, there seemed to be something very wrong the other night."

"Yes Azaka, indeed there was."

"You mean you know?"

"Well, not exactly, but I believe it is safe to assume. Lord Tenchi's manner this morning implied a loss of sleep."

"Shouldn't he be coming home soon?"

"Any minute now." Ryoko announced in a calculating voice. She landed on top of a guardian and sat cross-legged, still supporting herself with a wobbly arm.

"Good afternoon, Miss Ryoko."

The talking highchair received no reply. The mire still surrounding Ryoko's head bubbled and steamed even more in the afternoon sun. She was breathing irregularly as she clutched her temples and propped her elbows onto her knees. Her thoughts still swirled around bitterly, bringing up a curmudgeon's banquet of things to say. Braving the light, she looked for a familiar form to appear over the horizon. Every other person had typically failed to bring comfort, and lately her helplessness even doubled when she thought about Tenchi. Even the machines below her were beginning to look like better company.

"Hey, Azaka-" Ryoko lowered her head into a solemn voice.

"I beg your pardon Miss Ryoko, but I am Kamadake. That is Azaka over there." The guardian answered politely.

"Whatever," she grumbled and began again. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course you may Miss Ryoko, Azaka and I will do our best to answer it."

"You have to do whatever Aeka tells you to do, right?"

"Yes, as guardians we are sworn to obey the crown of Jurai and the noble we are created for. We will protect and serve Aeka for the rest of our days."

"May they be long and happy," added Azaka.

"Here-here."

Ryoko took a sip from the bottle she'd brought along, and waited a few more seconds for the long winded 'yes' to blow itself out. She continued with a softer and throatier voice, clearly ready to expel or succumb to the many drinks at any moment.

"So, if---if Aeka told you to destroy me, you'd have to do it, right?"

The first pause she'd ever heard the guardians take seemed so surreal that it almost sobered her for a moment. Both of the wooden cylinders had always been the essence of an alert soldier, always responsive, not cold, but clearly their personalities were the result of someone's imagination. Ryoko, almost risked a sudden movement to look over the edge into the single unblinking lens of an eye. From his still mechanically dignified position beneath her, Kamadake was sentient for long enough to show he added more angles to her question than most machine would.

"I'm afraid so Miss Ryoko, we are sworn to defend the Princess against anything she might see as a threat---by any means necessary. No matter how much you may have proven an ally in the past, we would have to follow orders."

"We would have to ^try^."

Ryoko had to convince herself, through the chaos of her intoxication, that Azaka could not have just tried to comfort her with flattery. She considered a confident, almost threatening laugh, but even in her state she knew it would have come out hollow. Rather than try further to distract herself with the age-old staple of aggression, she hung her head lower. A few longer strands of hair shaded the guardian's eye.

The pain in her throat began to rise again. It clenched up in her cheeks and looked for a fit of sobs to shake out. She called silently to Tenchi, begging him to come home, put his arms around her, and say that she was not as despicable as she felt. To her surprise her call received an answer from her own throne.

"Are you feeling alright Miss Ryoko?"

"Yes, is everything well with you?" Azaka added formally.

She looked down at the smoothly polished surface beneath her hands and saw her own blurry reflection. Taking a deep breath against the pain in her head, she resolved not to ask if the guardians were like people. Until further notice they were at least more upfront than any other person she knew. A question that had been burning in her since Kagato's defeat came out with a whisper of the tears behind it.

"Kamadake...are you afraid to die?"

"'Die', Miss Ryoko? We are guardians, we are not truly life forms and hence we have no fear of death. It is one of the reasons we are often preferable to Jurain soldiers."

"Though we may sound like people, we are machines created to serve as people." Azaka's own two cents came this time in a tone equal to his partner's sincerity.

The first true smile since the first bottle of sake crept up her face, a timid blade of grass in a patch of dingy snow.

"That's O.K. guys, you're close enough."

***

Tenchi walked more slowly than usual, thoughts dragging isolation back to his shared home. He moved halfheartedly to kick a stone and released a dust ghost from the space next to it.

*Maybe I should take one of Seita's vacations. Everything 'real' is getting more and more ugly lately.

*And the worst part is---there's no good reason for it.

*Sasami's back so I don't have to worry as much about anyone trying to ^kill^ anyone else. Seita's giving me more time to focus on my schoolwork, heck he even helped me out with a writing assignment the other night. And Mihoshi isn't breaking as many things because she wants to impress him so bad. I should be happy for them, but all I can think about are my same old problems.

*Ever since I was almost killed by that lunatic, Ryoko and Aeka have been even more 'attentive'. They keep getting sweeter and sweeter, but every time I think we're getting closer Aeka's father rears his ugly head, or Ryoko---or Ryoko just forgets hers. I don't understand. I told her not to take anything, and what does she do?

*There must be something watching over me to get me away from Hetmu ^and^ to keep Ryoko from loosing it.

He kicked at another stone with more force and sent it skipping off the path.

*I wonder if she ever had it. Even though she's not trying to smoother me every minute, I know it's just a change in tactics. Aeka always tried the same thing, just a little more gracefully. I didn't tell anybody about what happened, but when Ryoko obviously hid the truth from Sasami everyone probably drew their own conclusions.

*I just wish Washu would come out of her lab already; she looked like she'd been working more than a little too hard. If she ^ and^ Sasami, and maybe even Grandpa, were all here together they'd probably set things at ease. In the meantime I'm gonna have to hide out in my schoolwork for a while.

*Yeah, it's stupid of me to wish for things to get better on their own, but I do it anyway.

Looking up from the road again, he noticed Ryoko sitting on top of whichever guardian it was. She had a bottle of sake next to her. He swallowed its implications, but the sound of their loud-laughed conversation made him pause and approach the gate even slower.

"-and so---oh! H-Hi Tenchi." She greeted with a start, noticing his nervous look at the sake she tried to hide behind her back.

"Uh, hello Ryoko."

Seeing that her attempt had failed before it began, she made one last desperate save.

"Hey Tenchi," she cooed, holding out the bottle to him like a surprise gift, "have one with me? Nothing like a nice stiff drink after a hard day, huh?"

Tenchi looked at the offer, then at her face. The smile was as forced and nervous as any he'd needed before. Memories of the rave came rushing back, turning the bottle in a dear friend's hand into an apple in a snake's mouth. Much as he generally disliked western fairy tales, the association came instantly and set his mouth in a sad frown.

"I wish you'd learn better moderation, Ryoko."

The cold disappointment in his voice held everyone in silence till the front door shut behind him. Tears rolled, though Ryoko barely felt them through thoughts of Tenchi's growing hatred. He hadn't meant it when she'd accidentally torn his mother's kimono, but he'd said it anyway. This was even worse; she couldn't say that she hadn't taken anything from anyone, that she hadn't known, even though it was true.

The bottle moped back up at her. When she could neither bring herself to smash it nor drain it, she stared deeper into the reflection as it distorted in a green curve. The long knots of self-pity led to a recent memory of Seita's voice, replaying his almost mocking response to her second release from imposed darkness.

***

"That Kuroku is so ^mean^!" Mihoshi pouted as the arch nemesis of her favorite cartoon characters laughed maniacally. She clenched the remote like a club, shaking with misplaced fury.

Seita gave the impression of napping. Sasami leaned forward with only slightly less dedication than Mihoshi while Aeka her tried to do her knitting between periodic glances.

"^Will our hero's escape? Will Dr. Kuroku get away with his devious plan? Will our sponsors cancel our funding? Tune in next week for part eighteen of the Shinesman-Super-Suspense-Series^!"

The narrator's excitement faded into credits just before he might have soiled himself. Mihoshi let out an angry whine in a fit of hair pulling and feet stomping. Her normally animated cartoon partner opened one eye over a half smile, enjoying all the things he could say without making a sound.

"Mihoshi, I don't think some silly TV show is anything to take so seriously." Aeka lectured demurely.

"Oh, come on Aeka. You want to know what happens too." Sasami nudged her sister.

"That---that is beside the point."

"Arrrrrrgh, I can't wait another week!" Mihoshi continued.

"Don't get so consumed with your anticipation, otherwise the next episode might be disappointing." Seita looked over at her kindly.

"Yeah I know." Mihoshi sighed, feeling secretly proud of herself for answering without a fluster. The front door creaked open quietly while she unceremoniously dismissed the TV.

"I'm home." The announcement came flat.

"Oh Tenchi, welcome home!" Sasami ran up to him and gave her usual friendly hug while Mihoshi waved from the couch, still dragging herself out of the entertainment trench.

Seita rose and walked over to kitchen counter where Tenchi had left his school case to dig up an after-school snack. A slender affectionate hand gripped the famished student's shoulder, but Tenchi continued chewing like a bored cow.

"How did the test go?"

"Huh?" He blinked back into the outside world.

"The test, it was today wasn't it?"

Tenchi looked up with a shy smile, swallowed the rest of his snack, and went over to wash his dish. A mature voice to come home to settled in, and he brightened a little more for it.

"Oh, that. Actually I think it went well, thanks again for the help."

"When did you get to study earth knowledge?" Aeka asked suspiciously from behind Tenchi's new tutor. Seita's whole body twisted formally as if the princess were a long-traveled apprentice begging the council of an immortal oracle. The way he looked down at her was kind of kind and coy. She angled her head back, slightly unnerved by another of the guest's random bouts of strange flamboyance.

"It was really more of me helping him organize his notes, but your highness might be surprised by how much you can learn reading over the right shoulders."

"I see." Aeka blushed slightly but did not let her voice waver. The illusionist had features that reminded her too much of the many effeminate and pompous suitors she'd been bored with before. Still, she couldn't help her faint interest in how a man who'd experienced such isolations could be so well spoken. Naturally any thoughts of any man brought her back almost reflexive to the reluctant suitor. Inspired by Seita's demeanor, she took a rare opportunity to be bold.

"Congratulations Lord Tenchi, I'm sure you're going to be quite the scholar."

Aeka's hug took him off guard, and Tenchi almost stumbled over her. After another awkward moment passed with the princess only tightening her grip, he returned a quick embrace.

"Well thanks, but I haven't gotten it back yet, I might have bombed."

"Bombed? Does that mean you conquered?" Aeka blinked in confusion.

"Never mind, we'll see how I did next week." Tenchi chuckled softly and Sasami giggled, then laughed aloud. A strange buzzing sound was coming from overhead.

"What the-"

A cartoonish version of the Misaki heir was piloting a small model of a WWII fighter plane. An aviation scarf fluttered like a dynamic tadpole as he circled the kitchen. Oversized goggles complimented an exaggerated grin. Instinctively, Tenchi and Aeka looked at Seita, smiling proudly at his newest play toy.

The plane moved slower than a real model would have, and dove towards the abandoned school supplies as if held by an invisible child. Although Seita rarely made illusions so obvious, Tenchi still gasped when a small bomb dropped and ignited his homework.

"Oh no!"

He grabbed the nearest dishtowel in a panic and tried to smoother the dwarfed flames. When there came neither smoke nor heat, he drew back the cloth like a magician surprised at his own success. Sasami and Mihoshi giggled openly at him and the perfectly restored school supplies. The instigator just chuckled down at his unfolding hands.

"That's not what I meant Seita." Tenchi defended in a forced attempt to keep face but soon had to surrender and shake out a smile.

"Real or not, you were very brave Lord Tenchi." Aeka offered sweetly.

Ryoko had watched the entire show after teleporting silently to her rafter. The laughter seemed distant, but even such playful illusions struck her as all too real.

*Washu sure is taking her time analyzing his 'sample'. I just hope she's not trying to clone him or something---she probably got him to open one of those creepy holes and is sticking all kinds of probes into it.

She shuddered at the memories of how hard it had been to stand still the few times he opened those personal doors around her. The remaining pieces of bitterness still left in her stomach made her hope for Washu to find some way to work around that invulnerability complex of his. Maybe then he wouldn't walk around looking so calm and all the time.

Resigning before another headache set in, she rolled onto her stomach and faced her sketch, fighting to work up a comforted smile. The front door swung open, bounced roughly off the wall guard, and startled the tail of her house kimono. Someone called out with all the overdone jolliness of a thin man in a Santa suit.

"Helloooh!"

"Dad? What are you doing home so early?" Tenchi walked over to his father with a confused expression that soon inflated into pained struggle.

"Oh Tenchi! The firm just landed their biggest client ever, and I got a huge raise!" Nobuyuki bear-hugged his son, lifting him off the floor.

"Dad-"

Nobuyuki dropped his gasping son and dashed to his late wife's shrine.

"Oh Achika, sweet Achika, things are going so well. I can't thank you enough for watching over the house and our extended family." Water gleamed and sugar sparkled in the breadwinner's wide eyes.

"Wow Mr. Misaki, that's great!" Sasami beamed.

"Does that mean we can get satellite television now?"

"Mihoshi! Don't be so rude!" Aeka snapped.

"I'm taking everyone out to the nicest restaurant we can find to celebrate!"

"Everyone?" An uncertain but taken as eerie voice floated down and almost made the honorable father jump. Tenchi smiled at how the back of his dad's neck also seemed to itch when she did that.

"Why, y-yes, of course."

"That's so ^nice^, thanks dad!" Ryoko cleared her throat and puffed up to slap him on the shoulder.

"Now just a minute, Tenchi's father is not your---your ^dad^!"

Fumes started to build between the two rivals, but were quickly doused by Sasami's plea.

"Come on you guys, this is a special occasion, don't fight."

The girls turned away from each other and relaxed slightly, allowing Tenchi to do the same.

"When are we going?" Mihoshi asked.

"Why don't we leave right now and have an early dinner, then maybe we can stop for some ice cream afterward."

"Oh-BOY! Let's get ready Ryo-ohki."

The proud father seemed to glow as Sasami dashed off to her room with Ryo- ohki scrambling behind her. Tenchi smiled at how he seemed to savor the reaction, enjoying a child's enthusiasm the way only a parent could.

"I will also freshen up." Aeka exited politely.

"I'll go tell grandpa." Tenchi called and dashed out the door.

"Hey Tenchi, wait for me!" Ryoko sped through the wall after him.

Nobuyuki sighed happily and almost turned into Seita's chest. He recoiled with a small start, and scratched his head, momentarily unsure how the robe- like garments had been so quickly replaced by classy-casual black pants and an indigo sweater.

"Oh Seita, you startled me." He chuckled, but only received another question.

"Have you decided ^where^ we are going?"

"Hm, well I heard about a new restaurant in the city that's been getting good reviews. I thought we'd go there."

"I hope they know who they're competing with."

"Yeah," Nobuyuki chuckled, "Sasami's set our standards pretty high."

The two of them stood silently for a moment before both turning in near unison to smile at the shimmer of tall grass in the late sunlight, through the clean windows.

"Oh, I almost forgot, Wa-er uh, ^little^ Washu hasn't come out of her lab in a while, do you think she might want to join us. She could probably use a break."

Sayta smiled knowingly then let it fade into a relatively plain voice without taking his eyes off the scenery outside.

"Last I heard she didn't want to be disturbed. But I'm sure she wouldn't mind if we brought her back something."

***

"Boy you move fast Tenchi!" Ryoko complimented as she flew alongside him, trying to bury the earlier impression with her usual playfulness.

"I have to, the way grandpa trains." He breathed out the exertion at the last step up to the shrine.

"Ya know---if you wanted to---you could always train with me sometime." Ryoko offered, more than a bit of Zero's shyness showing through.

Tenchi turned and gave her a strange look as they neared his grandfather's office.

"Uhhh, I don't know if that'd be a good idea."

"I'm sure the old master wouldn't mind. Besides, we still need a rematch---no special tricks this time." She smiled with an exaggerated challenge in her eye.

Even after all this time, Tenchi still had trouble knowing when she was only looking terrifying as a joke. He gulped and tried to change the focus.

"I-I guess we'll have to ask-"

He stopped and raised an eyebrow at the formal looking sign hung over his grandfather's door, Ryoko stared with him, though the characters were unfamiliar.

"What's that supposed to mean Tenchi?"

"Strange, it basically means 'deep meditation in progress, please do not disturb' only in simpler, older terms."

"Huh?"

"Grandpa doesn't want to be disturbed---he hasn't done this in a while."

The shrine's former prisoner listened as Tenchi spoke to himself. Though he was clearly curious, he headed back down the steps without a sign that he even considered knocking. She examined the door a little more closely before following him.

***

Ryoko and Aeka strode purposefully towards the burdened minivan with gazes fixed on the seat next to Tenchi, each waiting for the other to make a dash for it.

"You guys-" a timid voice made both girls stop and turn around towards Sasami. She was holding her hands together, eyes pleading them in closer.

"Common you three, lets get going!" Tenchi called out through the window, not taking notice of the tension building between the three girls.

"Just a second, Tenchi dear!" Ryoko called sweetly to distract him with his own blush.

"What is it Sasami?" Aeka regarded her sister tenderly after giving Ryoko a quick cold stare.

"Well it's just---I'm just worried about little Washu." Sasami looked down at her feet pitifully as the rivals looked at each other for a hint. Before either could confront the child's worry, she spoke again with even more urgency.

"I know sometimes she goes into her lab doesn't for a while, but she's never been gone this long. I-I-I was just hoping maybe you two could stay here today j-j-just in case she comes out, or needs help, so that there will be someone there if she does."

"That's nice of you to think about miss Washu, but why would 'both' of us need to stay?" Aeka asked before the small but knowing smirk on Sasami's face reminded her of what happened almost every time one of them tried to go somewhere with Tenchi, and without the other.

"Oh...hm, you're a bright girl Sasami." Aeka complimented her sister's foresight grudgingly. When she looked over at Ryoko she noticed that her eyes were fixed tightly on the back seat where Mihoshi was leaning her chin to talk to Seita. It was a flirtatious posture if ever she saw one, or else the officer really was completely clueless.

She looked back down at her sister, still pleading, still pitiful, but with a face that was getting more beautiful every day. Memories of how her and her rival had responded to a certain revelation at the lake brought back a harsh envy that she could almost taste, and almost feel emanating next to her.

Ryoko and Aeka looked at each other simultaneously. An unspoken understanding almost transmitted between them:

*If we say yes to Sasami we'll be leaving her and Tenchi alone while Seita and Mihoshi are getting all soft over each other. ^You're^ not any threat, but it probably isn't safe to give a future Goddess any kind of head start.

One hard glance at the minivan, one instantly softened glance at Sasami, and both girls released a simultaneous sigh of defeat. Petty emotions couldn't last long in the fragile face of a little sister. Sasami hugged them both with ecstatic thanks and bounded off to the minivan to tell Tenchi that the idea was theirs. Both decided to go along when they noticed the warm expression he gave them before driving off.

***

Sasami leaned back from the front seat, giggling with Mihoshi as she braided a strand of her hair and exchanged jokes that were equally bad and innocent. Tenchi relaxed silently in the back seats with Seita gazing now typical serenity out the window.

"I thought the whole reason Washu was staying in her lab so long was to make sure it would be okay for you to go out into the rest of the world." Tenchi asked with moderate concern.

"The only restriction she really offered was that I shouldn't drink anything but filtered water. I doubt I'll be put in any more danger at this restaurant than your home."

"Sorry, I hope I didn't sound rude."

"Not at all Tenchi, I feel more welcome and content as your guest than I'd thought possible."

"Well," Tenchi chuckled modestly, "as I keep saying; it's the least I can do."

Silence lingered between them. Tenchi seemed to hear the absence of Seita's voice more clearly than the boisterous conversation between the girls in front of him. His faint reflection in the window still hadn't moved a blink.

"I think Washu's own attempt to study oblivion through a sample of its only company may be causing her absence...if you were wondering."

The former guinea pig looked over at the tall profile, now silhouetted by the late afternoon sun and a small cluster of clouds; the scenery outside hadn't changed much. Memories of the disorienting energy he felt when exposed to 'oblivion' always returned to him whenever Seita looked lost in thought. Now more and more the almost sheer horror of that place began to captivate him.

Without stirring any other part of his face, Seita turned, blue pearls rolled over to Tenchi's brown marbles. There wasn't a moment's doubt that the guest could hear the host's thoughts more clearly than his words.

"I can't imagine a scientist of her ability not being interested. She likely wants to replicate, maybe even synthesize my abilities.

A bump in the road gave them a chance to blink. Tenchi declined and was glad to see his guest accept.

"Funny, so much time spent inside and I cannot yet claim to be an expert, still more to be learned from the outside, I suppose."

Tenchi cleared his throat of a sudden tension and forced himself to speak his mind for once. With the way Seita chose to decorate and conduct himself it often seemed he might be too vain to contribute to a personal conversation. But the underlying frankness beneath his decadent tongue invited honesty to come as it was even after he turned back to the window.

"Seita, what's it really like in there?"

"You mean in the as of yet 'unclassified' dimension."

The face in the window might let out a smile, or even trapped one, Tenchi couldn't tell but confessed anyway.

"Yeah."

"In a direct sense it is as I first described it, an infinity of emptiness, a complete oblivion. In fact, I believe it may be more appropriate to simply call it 'oblivion', rather than any scientific term devised here, in what I'd call 'existence'."

"But what's it ^really^ like, in-inside I mean?"

Another pause. The creases in the seat were beginning to stick to Tenchi's palms as he waited for Seita to face him again.

"Strange, though it is so unbelievably neutral, I can't help but speak of it in dualities. When I give it more than a moment during travel, the same sorts of expressions come to me."

Seita faced forward but kept his eyes averted.

"When I enter oblivion, it seems to have all the qualities of a prison and a haven...a premature tomb and an immature womb."

Tenchi furrowed his brow, mulling over the cryptic answer. He could only imagine it as a type of hell, and likewise thought it strange that he couldn't find a hint of self-pity or fear in this description. The van went over a larger bump, reflexing him to check the still celebrating driver. When he looked back at his companion he looked straight into unwavering white stealing sapphire.

"Would you like a closer look, Tenchi?"



---------------------------

Standard Disclaimer:

I thank all the owners of the Tenchi characters who have chosen not to sue me for suggesting some alternative uses for them.

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I thank all the readers who have perused my other submissions and favorite authors.

Standard Procedure:

When entering another's home or church, be passively curious about the proper etiquette to observe.



^Tenchi Muyo: Sanctuary and Asylum^

-Verse Five-

Master (Part 2)



Aeka and Ryoko sat quietly on either side of the living room. The hour had passed with nothing save sipped tea, glances towards Washu's door, and attempts to look more visibly anxious than the other. The closet door still hadn't budged since the unpleasantness after the rave. Ryoko's eyes focused on it to melt hinges and vaporize wood, when that didn't work she slammed her teacup down with enough force to crack the saucer.

"This is ridiculous!" She lectured the fractured china without apparent concern for whether Aeka was listening or not. "That runt's been in there for three goddamn days doing who knows what while we sit out here waiting for her to show us some ^grand^ discovery!" The bitter sarcasm in her voice ran for the rage border.

"Well there really isn't much you can do about it, is there Ryoko?" Aeka asked in a condescending calm.

"The hell I can't!" Ryoko sat up and walked to the closet, all but forming her energy sword for emphasis. Aeka hurried after, more out of curiosity than concern for her well-being.

"Are you sure that's a good-"

"Hey Washu!" The door held hollow thumps to the violence, but her snarl speckled it with spittle for good measure. "We know you're in there! You've got Sasami worried sick, now come out already!"

She stood back with arms crossed, tapping her foot for an entire agonizing minute. A small orb of energy lit up her fist and she positioned herself to make a crater in the door.

Aeka sighed helplessly and put her shield up, but the explosion never came. Washu took one step outside her door and it closed behind her. Ryoko dissipated her attack and re-crossed her arms not to seem affected by the deep, morbidly exhausted scowl on her mother's face.

"Um, excuse us miss Washu but-"

Washu froze the princess's tact with a glance. Aeka was tensing herself for whatever reprimand she would receive for forgetting the 'little' on top of disturbing her, but the excavated hermit merely hung her head and changed somewhere between a blink and a flash of light. Emeralds leveled between the two girls and managed to turn green into an unsettled warning. Ryoko stubbornly ground her teeth at the delay.

"That's nice, but you can put your grown-up boobs away, Tenchi and everyone else went off to dinner in the city. ^We^ had to stay behind to make sure you didn't blow yourself up."

"But, we were concerned of course." Aeka interrupted, trying to keep her rival from tempting enough wrath for the both of them. "Are you-"

"What did you say?" Washu's face shriveled to match her frightened whisper to Ryoko, apparently not even seeing the princess.

"Everyone else is out for dinner in the city, cept for Tenchi's Grandpa, he's locked himself in his shrine to meditate or something---so what's your excuse?" Ryoko hardened further with a suspicious tone.

"^Where's Seita^!" Washu gasped loudly, gritting her teeth as she pulled Ryoko forward by her collar.

"Hey! What's the big idea?! I told you; everyone else went out and left us here to look out for you." Ryoko freed herself with an agitated step back.

Washu moved back as well, the closet door bumped from behind. She bent slightly and brought still clenching hands to the sides of her head, almost hyperventilating to cool the gears within.

"L-little Washu, are you alright? Please tell us why you've been in your lab for so long." Aeka scraped up her last bits of softness.

"I'm sure you both understand how fun prolonged solitude can be-" Washu responded in a voice lower than even her adult form would have used. Ryoko and Aeka stared at her in shock, instantly remembering long millennia in caves and empty space. Neither of them could fathom how a supposed ally could remind them of their trials so coldly.

"-so you can understand why I wouldn't ask for it without good reason."

The scientist blinked long and hard at their silence, returning to her child form as she turned back to the monsters in her closet.

"Why---why did you ask about Seita?!" Ryoko managed to accused in a near hiss.

Washu paused but did not face them.

"All this time, you've been studying his blood or something, haven't you?"

Aeka looked between them, back and forth shaking up an anxious and ignored whisper.

"^What^?"

"Well," Ryoko demanded, taking a step forward, "what do you ^know^?!"

"I don't know ANYTHING!" Washu whirled around and screeched so loudly her daughter could almost feel the pain in her throat. Heavy breaths took their time descending through the silence till the little genius was ready to speak like an adult.

"It's most likely that everything he's told us is been true, but the blood sample you mentioned, there's something ^wrong^ with it?"

"What do you mean, 'wrong'?" Aeka asked with now unrestrained fear.

"To put it simply: it won't hold still."

Her two interrogators were beginning to regret their curiosity, but Washu continued.

"You saw when Nobuyuki tried to give him a playful poke, the way he just automatically went ethereal. It's more than that though, the smallest particles of his body seem to have been altered. Even pieces of him respond to threats the same way, the blood just phases apart, almost beyond the atomic level. When the results come back, it's as if the vial were empty." Washu's voice was retreating farther into her own very isolated lab.

"So what the hell are we supposed to do?" Ryoko whispered forcefully, as if Seita could be listening nearby.

"Try to relax," Washu offered weakly, opening the closet door, "he may be slippery, but so far he isn't sharp. As far as fighting ability goes I think he's being honest; he probably wouldn't even last a round with Nobuyuki."

They tried hard to take comfort in the image, closing their eyes and scraping for a chuckle. Ryoko huffed back to the couch while Aeka raised her head to settle for a deep breath and maybe one last question. The re- locked door didn't seem ready to answer.

---

The treated family returned home with happy faces and a number of carryout bags, the contents almost emptied by two quiet yet ravenous women before everyone could hang up their coats. Nobuyuki shuffled to his bedroom, muffling something about eating too much and exhaustion, while all the girls including Ryo-ohki decided to visit the onsen. Tenchi grinned at his gorging partner and rubbed his belly. Not noticing any departing stares in their direction, he laughed heartily as Seita covered his smile to catch a belch. The taller man shuffled away but was stopped on his way to the couches.

"Hey. Seita."

"Yes, Tenchi?"

"I've um, got another essay due for a different class, do you think you could give me a second opinion on some things?"

"Certainly, though some things my still be unfamiliar to me."

"Thanks."

They walked up the stairs at a matching step, Tenchi's smile fading slightly till it turned him to his new friend.

"Seita, back in the car, when you asked if I, you know, 'wanted to take a closer look'---you were just kidding, right?" The question came with all the enforced seriousness of trying to seem casual.

Silence lingered till they reached the bedroom door. Seita opened it for Tenchi and looked him straight in the eye with all the sincerity of desired trust.

"Of course, Tenchi."

***

Watching Mihoshi and Sasami have a water fight while they watched calmly, Ryoko and Aeka couldn't even enjoy the irony.

"So what do you think she's really doing in there?"

"How should I know, she's your mother. Besides, don't you two have some sort of-"

"Don't remind me."

Aeka began to sneak a look over for a chance at more hidden information, but a loud squeal jerked her attention back over to her sister.

"Mihoshi! That's COLD!"

"I've never seen her look so afraid before."

The blunt honesty in Ryoko's tone brought Aeka back from the giggling battle.

"Afraid? She just looked angry to me, it must be awfully frustrating to study something she doesn't understand."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

They continued watching in silence as exhaustion took over the other bathers.

"Hm, I bet Mihoshi could probably get a better sample for her."

Aeka grimaced at the crude humor and glanced over.

Ryoko wasn't laughing either.

***

Muffled voices spread from upstairs through the silence in the Misaki house. Washu's little feet carried her towards the noise with a steady patter. She kept her face focused and arms crossed with a mixture of determination and reserve. Tenchi needed to take her seriously and though she didn't want him to make any "mad scientist" associations from her dirty lab coat, it would definitely make things seem urgent.

*I can't take this anymore. I know Seita's not telling us everything and I'm sick of driving myself mad to get a simple analysis of him. Tenchi seems to be happy to have him around, but maybe if I simply suggest that he keep his eyes open he might notice something that I've missed. He's famous for being oblivious to things so he might not notice anything unusual unless I tell him to look for it.

*Thank goodness Seita's not after his love too...I hope.

The door to Tenchi's room squeaked open. Washu halted and self-consciously brushed herself off a little more to face him.

"Thanks Seita," happy relief called out from inside, "I probably would have been up with this thing all night without you."

Seita stepped out into the hall still facing into Tenchi's room. The neutral blue of his sweater didn't seem accidentally harmless at all.

"Your welcome Tenchi...though Washu would probably be a better tutor," he explained humbly. Washu tensed up. She hadn't made a sound and he hadn't taken his eyes out of Tenchi's room, but somehow she felt he was speaking to her.

"Yeah well, she's helped me with my homework before---but sometimes I wonder if the help of a ^genius^ isn't more trouble than it's worth." Tenchi replied in the hesitant voice he always used when he was afraid of sounding too frank.

Washu frowned but told herself to tackle that issue some other time. When Seita turned towards her she tried to look past him, through him, anywhere but into him. He merely looked down at a potted plant, his face remained lifeless as he began to walk towards her, still speaking.

"Don't take anything for granted, Tenchi."

Ready to demand what ^that^ was supposed to mean, she got distracted by the disinterested sigh of someone being reminded to take out the garbage:

"Yeah, I know."

Washu felt her face growing more resentful with every ghost-like step Seita took towards her and suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to stand fast in his way.

*If he thinks he's above the physical plane then he can just walk through me, I'm going to get a closer look at him one way or another...maybe I can catch him off guard.

He kept walking at the same pace with the same face maintaining an air of indifferent grace. Washu watched every inch of him for something to give or commit. She took a quick breath for him to call her bluff, then blinked when his torso nearly touched her face. Eyelids cleaned, then wiped rapidly, then soaked themselves together. Washu shook her head like a rabbit's heart for a moment and distorted her face in confusion then utter disbelief.

Locks of red hair shook like a feather duster as Washu looked wildly around her new familiar surroundings. The hallway replaced wood with a homey white lacquer and doors with art prints and haunting happy photos. A large kitchen opened up in the distance, patiently awaiting her nervous steps.

The sinks, cupboards, and counters all complemented each other in an upper middle-classy motif of creamy porcelain and richly stained wood. A few more steps forward and the hall open up into a living room on her right. The back of a soft coral couch, clearly an heirloom, instantly reminded her how functional it had been after a long day of lectures. Beyond the couch a small black cube stuck out of the wall to support the holo-entertainment system her husband had begged to install.

Doused in liquid nitrogen after reflexively enjoying the nostalgic ethers. Her eyes fought to consume her face till she finally gave up convincing herself that she wasn't where she knew she was. A trembling hand inched towards a pristine wall mirror where her reflection should have been but retreated back into the folds of dirty lab clothes at the sound of a tiny beep in the kitchen. Washu smiled absently with another bit of distracted nostalgia of how long she'd worked to get the food bell just right, then inwardly slapped herself again.

Footsteps echoed behind her left as a woman strode into the kitchen with a blonde little gurgle cherub. The woman punched open a small door and retrieved a steaming bowl with a free hand. She tiptoed gingerly towards the counter, put the bowl down with a wince, and gently secured the child into a high chair. He curled and imploded his tiny lips over each tenderly cooled spoonful, savoring a little more onto his chin after every happy swallow. His mother was having a hard time blowing tenderly through her own smile.

Washu moistened her lips and cleared her throat loudly but the scene still continued uninterrupted. It was impossible to decide if she was happy or disappointed or terrified to be invisible as the adult version of herself fed their son. The last look of wonderment to watch a day in a life she'd lost so long ago; the proper way to view this was with a glare of rage.

*Snap out of it!

"S-Seita. Seita!" She mouthed then bellowed then instinctively worried towards the baby that had always hated loud noises. Again reassured of the illusion, she searched more violently, grinding teeth and breathing smoke.

"Talk you arrogant-" Her lip crumpled beneath her teeth and her inability to find the right word. "If you get a kick out of messing with people's heads then you've ^definitely^ bit off more than you can chew this time! Just what the hell is this supposed to-" She cut herself off with a start at the sound of plump little hands slapping against the counter.

Fear gulped, gorged itself all the way down her throat till it felt big enough to burst her stomach. She looked from the smiling face of her former self down to the bowl of soup below her lost son. An agonizing memory sucked the color out of her face and spurred her madly forward. She stretched a hand towards them.

"^Look out^!"

Baby's fingers came down hard on the rim of the bowl and catapulted its steaming contents all over himself and the floor at Washu's feet. The same gasp came from the same scientists, waking from nightmares, waking in scalding water. A wail erupted, shattering ears and everything in between like a torturous siren. The adult version snatched her son up from his chair and rushed him towards the sink a millisecond before her present self could. With empty hands the little girl helplessly watched herself spray hot water onto her child's sparse clothing. As the wailing intensified the mother added to the cacophony with a screech of her own before frantically cooling the water temperature.

Washu remained motionless save for a rapid chocking motion in her throat. The knot had regurgitated back from her stomach and was festering into a giant tumor. Mother lifted the now naked child onto her shoulder and sobbed hysterically along with her bundle, baby pink in some places, blister pink in others.

The little genius begged her frozen hands to cover her eyes or her ears as the mother she once was begged every living being in the universe for forgiveness. Finally collapsing onto her knees, she hugged herself and rocked into sobs. The illusion continued in an echo above her. Even when the child's wailing began subsiding, his mothers continued to double the moisture already on the floor.

"I read an interesting essay in an old science journal once. It was on the long-term effects of parental guilt ...I think you'd have found it very interesting." Seita suggested with professional curiosity.

Cyanide emeralds sprang open and injected murder into the living room. She jolted upright and began walking with jerky steps towards the head of blonde hair cascading over the back of the couch.

"And it seems that you might even have had something to contribute to its theories," he continued with a rising hint of cold mockery in his voice, "you locked up this memory so tight it was almost perfectly preserved. Truth be told; you did most of the work for me."

Her hands twitched then lunged for Seita's neck. The feel of stretched flesh and the sound of gagging surged destructive ecstasy into Washu's face. Thin fingers wrapped around her little grip in a desperate pry, a gasp gurgled beneath the rabid froth dripping between her teeth. She saw the blue on his fingernails whiten while her old home began to fizz like a bad television reception. This painted sissy deserved a cruel laugh for trying to probe the fury of the greatest scientific genius in the universe.

His body gradually tensed and stiffened, still for a minute before a droplet of saliva oozed onto Washu's hand. She panted into Seita's hair and squeezed again just to be sure.

Nothing.

Throwing back the now blinding curtain of her own hair, she saw that they were still in her old home.

"You didn't really ^enjoy^ that, did you?"

Washu spun around and nearly spat acid at the concerned voice in the kitchen. The sick arrogance leaned forward over the counter and glanced over at the earlier Washu still holding her child. The counter beneath the puddle squeaked beneath a thin finger-traced line. Seita put his finger in his mouth and looked over to further enjoy the little red test animal.

"Come now Dr. Hakube, you know this isn't 'real', not anymore-anyway. Besides, the only one who knew about it, apart from you and I that is, probably forgave the person who caused his little burn patches-" Seita lazily wiggled a few fingers at the baby, "whoever they were."

Her breaths were a broken rabbit's as she managed to shuffle another menacing step toward the kitchen. The next step cut off beneath Seita's reversed eyes and slightly parted mouth as he shivered-savored his own chill. He finished the moment and leaned off the counter.

If you need some more reassurance though, just ask yourself if you'd have ^ever^ done this."

All the sudden flamboyance of a game show host gestured towards the old mirror as if it were a new car. Washu watched as the sobbing mother lowered her head and held her baby out at arms length. Without the whistle or the stripped shirt, the referee tossed the ball into the air for either team to claim.

---

A loud slam rose up from the hallway outside Tenchi's room, startled his books onto the floor, and scrambled his feet to investigate. He found a very distraught little genius, her stomach to the floor, her arms clutching an invisible package for dear life.

"Oh my gosh Washu! Are you alright?" He bent excitedly to help and kept a concerned hand on her shoulder as she clutched her head in both hands as it shook slowly from side to side. She'd been asked if she was all right twice more before she widened her eyes at him.

"Tenchi!" She yelled a small breath.

"Miss...little Washu are you okay?"

"Tenchi, where.where did Seita go?!"

"Seita? We just spoke, I think he went downstairs." The echo of her maniacal voice continued to confuse him. "Are you-"

"I'm...fine, Tenchi." Washu couldn't even convince herself with such a heavy gulp of air and anxious search up and down the hallway.

"Are you sure? Did you need something?"

She began to walk away with a lost look on her face.

"Washu?"

"I-"

*Tell him! Tell him everything! This is going to get worse before it gets better. You have to...but what if that's what he wants? If he was afraid of me telling Tenchi he wouldn't have just ended it like that.

"Are you feeling okay?"

The moment of kind concern gave her just enough time to decide.

"I was just going to show him a new kind of software program. I was playing with it while I was walking and I tripped." Washu answered lifelessly to the air as she continued walking back down the hall.

"Oh," Tenchi lingered in his doorway between a sigh and another question till Washu disappeared around the corner.

---

The holographic laptop appeared in front of her with decidedly more color and energy than she held in her face. Before she could finish getting through all the access codes the screen went black. Washu typed roughly but got nothing. She sighed for another upgrade and began moving for the reboot button when plain text wrote itself in at a low WPM.

^Well Dr. Hakube, it seems we have an understanding now...an agreement now.^

The rabid state was coming back again as she imagined a holographic virus popping up on the screen at any minute. Her hands shook violently over the keys, wanting to reach into the screen more with each letter.

^I think it will be safe to say that-^

^you are a 'good mother'^

^Tenchi is a 'good host'^



^and I am a 'good guest'^

If she didn't destroy the laptop she might end up biting her tongue off.

^By the way^

^I don't know how much you enjoy language studies, but I discovered something that made me think of you.^

^Of us.^

^The word 'conscience' has an interesting construction in one of this planet's more popular languages.^

:

^Con-sci-ence^

The separated version of the word appeared in English and Japanese, and Washu, understanding both languages, instantly recognized what Seita was getting at. He reiterated just the same.

^Conscience^

^Con^

^Science^

^con - science^

^CON- science^

^-I just thought you might enjoy pondering the potential of this little word...that is... if you haven't already.^

Washu gulped and took a deep breath as her normal screen returned, smiling to feel suddenly very calm. It was the sensation she always waited for whenever she was doing something important. It spread through her body with all the grace and dignity of engineered steel. She knew certainty again like the back of a hand she'd built herself; every part of her mind stood in agreement. A motivational line repeated itself in pistons, in orbit, infinite.

When the portal back to her lab came up in front of her laptop she dashed into it so quickly she almost slipped on the stairs. She scrambled out the other end through two large security doors that parted for her more quickly than their girth should have allowed. A sharp squeak pierced the relatively small chamber as she scuttled forward a step from stopping so suddenly. Although her hair had catapulted around her, it wasn't pushed back. Disheveled locks stuck to her face as she breathed heavily into the room.

The perfect circle chamber shimmered with walls of black liquid held back by tight clear sheets. Small yellow lights stretched, separated and regrouped in vertical parades all around her. Each line moved at a separate speed and tempo forming a pattern somewhere between distracting and hypnotic. The centerpiece, the only piece, didn't catch Washu's shadow or the glare from the lights.

Two cones rose out of the floor and ceiling at each other, shining enough to make obsidian look like waxed glass. They shared a luminous yellow vapor that held itself in a cylinder between them. A single beaker of red liquid hovered completely still in the exact center of the field, rotating so slowly and perfectly that it hardly seemed to move.

"Computer, initiate analyzation process code 3x7y5z." Washu spoke like a robot discovering cold obsession.

All the tiny lights within the walls stopped, and were sucked back into the black fluid. The vapor holding the beaker slowly began turning blue from top to bottom in a self-replicating mass of cube clouds. When the color change had completed the cylinder began to condense and darken slightly into a crystal that filled the room in blue light.

Washu swallowed and rubbed some blood back into her hands.

"Proceed."

An immense baritone hum pulled a single ring of black light down the length of the two cones without casting a glare or a shadow. When the ring reached the bottom it retraced its path back to the ceiling. Washu never let it out of her sight.

*I haven't come across anything that needed this kind of a scan since I was working with the gems.

*I guess I should have been more alert when he told me he'd have to take the sample from himself to get around his 'defensive reflex'. I put that blood through every other test there is and each time-

Washu crushed her eyes together and ground her teeth.

*---^empty^. If the entire atomic structure of his body has altered so much, this test will tell me.

*Why am I not excited then? No, there can't be any doubt. I'm going to find out what he's really made of...

A holographic report sprung up and put her uncertainty on hold. She brought back her own computer and typed a few buttons to shrink the larger document into a tiny square that promptly inserted itself into the back of her keypad. She exited the scanning station as the blue around the beaker faded back to yellow and the walls came alive again.

The plants in her favorite workstation caressed past her nose, but she didn't even admire the lush pad of grass beneath her feet. She sat down on her levitating cushion and stared at the blank screen without so much as breathing for the ten seconds it took her to build up the will to look at the report. For half an hour she read, alternately showing thin clouds of fear till she could pull them into a more mechanical calmness. When the report was finished, she filed it safely away and began asking her computer to calculate how much power would be required to run the necessary tests. Her focus on the question and subsequent answer left nothing else, her mind typed out information with no more living energy than the computer had. She finally looked around to regard her surroundings, trying not to think about how hard it wouldn't be for Seita to come in for decorating tips.

*These aesthetic additives are expendable. The other specimens and samples will have to be recycled.

Washu looked at the door and frowned.

*I will have to improve a new locking system, but that will have to wait.

Turning back to her desk, she picked up a piece of stationary and a fountain pen.

***

Upstairs in his room, Tenchi said goodnights to the very clean and very tired girls and bent back over his homework with small exhale of frustration. The silence tempted his warrior ears with fridge hums and settling wood till he thought back to how Washu had been able to make her way into the hall unheard. A sudden realization tweaked his focused expression. He sat up slightly and looked at the door, tapping his pencil in contemplation. With a decisive tilt of his head he returned to his project. After no more than a minute the realization refused to be put off, causing him to surrender his work and walk briskly down to the closet door. His hand paused inches from the handle as he noticed something out of place.

A piece of paper hung by a tack a little below normal eyelevel, in bold and elegant handwriting it stated simply:

Do Not Enter.

Not 'Do not disturb'. Not 'Out to Lunch'. Not even 'Geniuses Only'. Tenchi hesitated and took the note in hand. The ink was still shiny. He crumpled his lips to one side and prepared another sigh of surrender, but caught it between a determined brow. Without knocking, he twisted the handle and entered as slowly as a spy, but when he crossed the threshold he called out with concern rather than suspicion.

"Hello, are you in here little-"

The greeting was cut short as Tenchi stared in confusion at the lab's new décor. Metal. The floor, the ceilings, the walls, everything was a blank surface save for a simple dome light above Washu's sparse computer station, and a safer than a safe door to her right. Hetmu's ship, even on the way out, had seemed warmer. He waited for Washu to turn around but the mass of red hair didn't budge from the bouncing taps of her apparently solid keypad.

Tenchi took a few steps in, the hard echo forced him to remember Hetmu again, then very cold and empty places. A shiver gripped his arms in reflex.

"Did I forget to write that notice in a language you could understand?" Washu's callous tone froze Tenchi in his tracks, biting his lip.

A dull whirring made him duck just in time to see a small spider-ball robot fly overhead with a solid teal orb in each leg. It stopped above and slightly to the left of her where a furnace opened up in a parting twist of metal sheets, the orbs hurled in one by one. The robot followed and Tenchi saw a small yellow flash in the abyss-deep red tank. No heat, no sound, but it felt like energy the same way his sword did.

"Uh, sorry if I disturbed you Little Washu," he almost whimpered as the furnace shut, "are you redecorating or something."

"I'm ^extremely^ busy Tenchi, please make this a brief interruption." She brutally disemboweled his attempt at friendly conversation.

Smiling was a little easier when he told himself his news would make her happy enough to overlook the intrusion.

"I---just wanted to tell you that when we went out to dinner Taro's mother and father happened to be eating at the same restaurant."

Washu's typing cut off with a harsh clack of keys. Tenchi thought that he could see her trembling but continued the same.

"We talked for a while and offered to sit for them again, so little Taro will be staying here on Friday. I thought you might want to-"

Before he could continue she whirled around, strangling the edges of her cushion.

"NOOO!"

Tenchi put his hands up defensively and almost fell backwards, when no explosion came he dared to look at her again.

"But I thought-"

Washu pounced so quickly that Tenchi let out a shocked yelp, too stunned to move as the undersized genius held him up from the floor by his collar. The terrified rage in her eyes threatened to do more than paralyze him at any moment.

"I said ^no^ Tenchi!" Her voice so guttural that she almost spat on him. "Do not let a child come into this house, I-"

Washu stopped and looked about her lab with wild paranoia, her breathing alternately beating down on Tenchi with more force than should have existed in any twelve-year-old. When she stared back at him her terror was not lessened, merely focused. The whisper she spoke with made him gulp again.

"I'm doing very important and very dangerous work at the moment, I'm sorry Tenchi, but I can't risk exposing undeveloped life forms to-"

"But Little Washu, I already-"

"Well cancel the plans ^damn you^, I don't care what you tell them. Say everyone has some horrible virus, mucus and puss everywhere. Anything, just do not let Taro come here!"

She dropped him with a soft thud and began to walk away with slow, overly cautious steps, her breathing still slightly labored. Tenchi sat up and stared at her dumbly, believing her insane for a fraction of a moment. He refocused and called out with as much control and concern as he could.

"Little Washu what's-"

"Please, Tenchi." The ripping voice exhausted itself as she flopped back down on her cushion and gently grasped her sinus. "I'm sorry if I frightened you, everything will be alright, but please...just do as I say."

After a few more generic and failed attempts to turn and speak, Tenchi finally made his way out of the lab. Without the typing, everything was less than silent till another identical robot flew in from nowhere to repeat the procedure. Washu bowed her head and massaged her sinus some more. Eventually she placed her hands back on the keys with an exhale of forced tranquility. A finger paused above the first key, anxious hesitation lightly trembling in her wrists. She checked both sides of the room again, not even moving her head. Typing continued.

---

Dissecting the initial codes was a simple procedure and a good way to warm up, still ahead of schedule despite the interruption she afforded herself a microscopic smile of approval. Seita's face pressed in through the other side of the now cellophane screen. The fonts and icons bent and stretched across his features, contouring to him till every detail of his expression made the screen into a face painting. His eyes narrowed, his smile stretched up sharp and toothy.

Washu knew someone trying to look terrifying when she saw them, but could resist indulging him only by trying to remain entirely motionless while she stared at the space between the keys and the screen. She tried to take comfort that his appearance had not been totally unexpected, but knew she'd have to make it clear to him that he'd had all the reactions from her he was due.

*He can make as many grand entrances as he wants. I won't indulge him.

*Luckily he certainly seems like one to get bored easy, I'll hate myself for sending him off to have fun with...with someone else, but I'm the only one who can figure him out, and I can't do that unless he gives up on me. That must be his game. Has to be.

*Obviously he likes to speak in riddles, but he made himself fairly clear back there: if I take his sick little games as a joke, and don't tell Tenchi, he'll stay a "good guest". Let him think you believe him, Washu.

"I heard shouting Professor, is something wrong." His voice buzzed with a cheap electronic filter, an affected attempt to complete his transformation into a sinister computer virus.

She did not acknowledge him. She kept her eyes averted. She could not stop her right hand from trembling.

"Oh come now, you're not going to stay upset with me for that little trip down memory lane, are you? What kind of a guest would I be if I didn't try to inspire a fellow scientist?"

Seita's face receded slightly back into the screen at her deathly silence. He raised his eyebrows asking: 'well?'

"Were you unnerved by my little ^con-science^ remark? I was just offering something to ponder, not mull over."

His charm fell on deaf ears.

"Ah the silent treatment, standard procedure against bullies-" His face stretched forward again in an arch, nose passing less than an inch from her cheek as he continued in an accusing rasp "-and people trying to ^hide^ something."

Washu tried to imitate her robot double, and wished desperately that she hadn't already disassembled it to free up more energy.

"Very well." Seita sighed, grimacing sideways before pulling back into the screen. She was taken slightly off guard when he stood up behind the stationary computer, half phased through its plain desk. He put his hands in the pockets of his velvet trousers. His thin unbuttoned shirt billowed about his pale torso as he walked towards the exit. The cliché vanity in the all black of it almost brought up a visibly disgusted response, but Washu just stared at the screen, waiting to hear any sign of his departure.

This time she hesitated for triple the amount of time to be sure that she could finally work in peace. Words began appearing on the screen again the moment her fingers spread over the keys. She frowned frustration, but ragging terror reentered her eyes the moment she read.

^I was also curious-^

^Who is Taro?^

Strangely enough she wanted to move this time, to find a blunt object, smash the computer and wait again for another opportunity to strangle the guest. But her rage paralyzed itself, the only motion came when both hands began to tremble more fiercely.

^Pleeease professor Washu! I just want to know who this person is. Don't make me have to leave with some tired exiting line:^

^"If you wont tell me, I know someone who will."^

^"Maybe actions will speak louder than words."^

^It just wouldn't do.^

Washu twitched her finger over the shutdown button, closed her eyes to reach again for the switch to the part of her mind he had commandeered. Although loath to read again, she could not help herself.

^Oh, nevermind then.^

Her relieved sigh almost brought on a fit of tears, but she bit her tongue and impaled the shutdown key. She turned and rose from her seat with weak knees and walked over to the enforced door at her right. When it, after a minute's worth of coding, slid open for her she nearly walked into Seita's inverted face. She screamed and stepped back instinctively, balling her fists at her side and refusing to acknowledge his antigravity illusion.

He walked along the ceiling convincingly, his loose shirt and long hair drooping downward. Far more chilling were the movements of his mouth entirely grotesque as it had not inverted with the rest of him. Glossy lips sharpened their smile into the wrong corners of his cheeks, his chin and head took turns moving, inevitably throwing off even Washu's developed equilibrium. When his nostrils whistled in her scent like a larger but still tiny pair of hell pits she bit her tongue for real, barely catching her nausea. She held her breath even after realizing he had no scent of his own, and though she waited to feel him exhale on her all she could feel were the needles stampeding up her face.

Another step back and another bit to her tongue. For a fraction of a second the illusion seemed to get blurry, it was all she could do. Unfortunately, his inverted eyes and slick voice became so wholly psychotic that no inversions or extra illusions could have made him any more threatening. If he wanted her to believe he'd passed gaily through the essence of hell, he'd succeeded. She could not deny it as each word brought him a step closer and her a step back.

"I will be despised."

" I will be condemned."

" I will be^ murdered^!"

" But I will NOT---be ignored."

His voice tore through her senses, and though she was not taking flight or fight as her instincts were instructing, she admitted to herself that she needed a new plan. Without taking her eyes off him, she answered with more certainty than was necessary.

"Tenchi's little brat of a cousin, a noisy little stink bomb. Maybe you like your nerves being racked by constant screaming and defecating, but I don't. It may sound strange but, s-s-soon as they're not yours they lose all their charm." Washu tore the tortured moment of nostalgia from her face and replaced it with all the cynicism she could muster. "So, you got anything in that wardrobe of yours that you don't mind getting puke on?"

Seita lowered his eyebrow curiously, and his entire body was sucked into his neck in a cartoonish rush. With a quick jerk his head inverted again and shot out the rest of him without so much as a ruffle for all the surreal rearrangement. His mouth turned back into place with a sickly vacuum gel sound. Standing relatively without glamour, he looked down and crossed his arms with another sideways, disappointed grimace.

"I see, well good then," he affirmed, pocketing his hands and rocking on his heels in good humor, "for a while I was afraid he might be another scientist."

Washu looked up at him and huffed in exasperation, hiding her malice, and her elation at the acceptance in his condescending smile. He lifted a leg and stepped backward, instantly swallowed up in the blink of oblivion. The floor caught Washu indifferently, as she wavered above hyperventilation.

The same motivational line that had driven her after the initial hallucination began to repeat itself again with enough authority to drag her back up to her feet and down into the heart of her lab.

^there's no time^

***

A faithful servant tried to relax his unstable yet giddy expression in the illumination of so many rotating plasma cells. His hands moved idly, automatically over his small control box. The deadly bobble turned and twisted, throwing varying refractions of orange light across the sterile floor. When a sudden feeling of disorientation swept through him like an arctic wind he jerked his face up.

Kagato always wore the finest gloves, they matched his hair and kept his smooth hands from being unnecessarily soiled. Hetmu had seen them only a few times, but closely enough to know them one when it was reaching out to him from a small white portal.

He took it, trying not to shiver as the hole widened enough for half of Kagato's shoulder and all of his smiling face. His master, warm and gentle the way Hetmu knew he would be when he returned for him. If he saw the tears in his most faithful servant's eyes now they would be forgiven.

Hetmu looked down at his hand, feeling something odd. Kagato's little nail was poking into his palm, it'd been grown and shaped into a familiar decorative point. Retracing memory kept his face tight for a few moments. Kagato's smile grew more sinister than Kagato could dream as his servant looked up in horrified realization.

The failed experiment still held the hand as his dead master withdrew back into the portal. Like a ghost's glove it wiggled free easily and floated up to an orb. This change in proximity made the orange cell brighten. It remained unaffected by the light as the empty portal closed.

A faithful servant watched and listened to his master's hand as it snapped at some unknown revelation.



***

The time to watch its moments.

Well received---but one third done.

The time to reward each suspicion and patience.



The time for points to pull their gun.

-ZJS



Author's notes:

Verses 6 through 10 will be included in 'Sanctuary & Asylum {.66}'

I'd like to apologize for my mediocre proofreading thus far.

I'd like to thank Ministry Agent for his consistent and valued support. Shower him with reviews please.

I'd like to reassure everyone that I've good reasons for splitting up the story's verses.