::Book Two::
::Chapter One::


Dr. Stalubaugh and Dr. Rhimi stood together on the receiving platform, and for those who knew them the decorum they had shown so far was impressive. The Dean of the Royal Academy and the Dean of the History Academy were old philosophical rivals, and their confrontations over the role of the Muldoon Seminary in El Hazard history were legendary. It was also difficult to imagine a more deliberate physical antithesis; while Dr. Stalubaugh was the definition of old age, with his long white hair and short stature, Dr. Rhimi stood tall and lanky, and his hair, while just as white as the other man's was close cropped, and his clean-shaven chin was outlined by equally severe sideburns. Both men wore the formal white robes of office which befitted their high standing with the Royal House, but only Dr. Stalubaugh's was trimmed with gold along every edge.

Technically, this was Rhimi's show, since Mr. Fujisawa would be under his direction at the History Academy. And for the ceremony, the two Deans had come to an agreement not to discuss anything not directly related to the ceremony for the duration. But now everything was finally in place, and Rhimi raised his hands and spoke slowly in a cultured tenor to the crowd gathered before him in the afternoon sunlight.

Ladies, Gentlemen, members of the Royal Court, we are here on this day to honor a great man. Masamichi Fujisawa has served our nation brilliantly on the field of battle, and was instrumental in foiling the Bugrom invaders in their plot to overthrow the Kingdom of Roshtaria. But today, he will take on a different challenge, one defined not in terms of lives saved or battles won, but in lives touched, and futures brightened. He has agreed to serve us once again, not as a man who wages war, but as a man who can perhaps teach others how to avoid it. And in this precious knowledge, he has saved us again a thousand time over, from an enemy that has no form but threatens us constantly; fear.

He paused dramatically, and every one of the hundred nobles, princes, queens, diplomats, and professors was as silent as stone, waiting for him to continue.

And so it is with great pleasure that on this day, I am allowed to confer the title of Doctoral Professor of Earth History to Mr. Fujisawa, that he may pass on his knowledge and integrity for the next hundred generations to benefit from. Come foreword.

Mr. Fujisawa got up from his seat in the rear of the hall -the same one he and Miz had been married in those scant years ago- and walked through the middle isle to the platform. He wore the same gray robes as a dozen other professors in the audience wore, and as he approached there was almost nothing in his countenance to suggest that he was the least bit excited about his new position, except for a noticeable twinkle in his dark brown eyes.

He came to the base of the platform and halted, and Dr. Rhimi turned around and a formally dressed student handed him a navy blue sash. Rhimi turned back to Mr. Fujisawa, and placed the sash around his neck.

he continued, take your place among your brothers, Doctor Fujisawa, and may you live a thousand years and never fail a student. Rhimi finished the last sentence with a smile, clearly enjoying himself, and he put out his hand.

Mr. Fujisawa shook it gleefully, and as the crowd erupted in applause he walked to the back of the platform where the other eleven Doctoral Professors stood, and he shook each one of their hands in turn before turning back to face the crowd. He walked off the platform, and into the crowd of people that had gathered around him to offer their congratulations. Mika broke through the adults and exclaimed as he reached down and scooped her up into his arms. Miz followed close behind, and the last light of the setting sun turned the white marble of the skylit hall a deep orange as they kissed, then turned arm in arm to greet their well-wishers.

I'm just so proud of you, sensei! Nanami gushed as she pushed her way through the thickening crowd. From high school teacher to Royal Professor, gosh! I'll bet the other students back home would never believe it!

Uh, gee, thanks, I think, he scratched his head and replied.

Makoto walked up with Qawoor and said, yeah, do we get to call you Doctor now? You've earned it, you know.

Oh, Miss Miz, you must be so proud, Qawoor chimed in sweetly.

Miz turned to her and smiled. Why thank you, Qawoor, I am. And may I say, you look very beautiful today.

Of course, Miz had helped her a great deal in getting prepared for today, ever since it became obvious just how much it meant to her to impress poor Makoto. But after some basic instructions and a few bottles, she'd done the rest on her own, and she really did look beautiful.

Her hair, for starters, had been combed out to fall straight down her back like a cascading waterfall, and gathered up in curls at the bottom as the spray in a pool might. The two locks which refused to blend with the rest of her hair had been tamed somewhat to hang just an inch from her forehead, instead of their customary foot.

Her dress was a gorgeous fabric that shifted in the light between white and pale blue, and it shimmered as though it were wet. Her family crest formed the clasp for a shawl of a perfectly clear fabric, which ran down her arms and attached at the wrists to her dress with stylized clasps that had been made to match her crest.

Even after her time with the other Muldoon Priestesses, she seemed innocently unaware of the effect her beauty had on other men, and so she merely blushed and held on to Makoto's arm at Miz's complement.

The congratulations continued for some time, with everyone from trusted royal advisors to total strangers demanding a handshake with the new doctor, and the torches lining the pillars in the great hall lit when the last of the sunlight faded.

****


Magnificent.

That's what everyone had been saying about the reception area's decorations, and, thought Shayla, they were right. Rune really had done an excellent job, and the whole place looked like a page from some epic fairy tale. The royal flower garden had been chosen to hold the after-ceremony party in, and the grand arena was as beautiful as anything she'd ever seen. Rows of perfectly tended flower beds lined the footpaths that led to a large clearing almost 70 meters in diameter. It was surrounded by tremendous bushes of yellow lilacs, and there was a raised dais on one side of it that housed the band, and a tent covered the refreshment buffet. Banquet tables were situated around the dance floor in front of the music, and a soft glow from the lanterns mingled with the incredibly bright moonlight.

The party had lasted for hours, and looked like lasting right into the wee hours of the morning. Almost every dignitary from the far-flung corners of El Hazard had come in an overwhelming public display of approval for Mr. Fujisawa's appointment, which was making Shayla's mission a bit harder. She'd been looking for Makoto for half an hour and hadn't found him yet, but suddenly she saw him standing beside the refreshment table. She started walking towards him before she noticed that Qawoor wasn't with him, and her determination mounted.

Makoto saw her approaching through the various dignitaries; even in such a crowd the red-haired fire priestess was hard to miss. She moved with the easy confidence that years of harsh physical training had given her, and the dress she'd picked out hugged her perfect figure with brutal honesty. He waved to her and called out, Miss Shayla! Hi!

Ugh, she asked herself, why does he still insist on calling me after all we've been through?

Oh hey, Makoto! she hailed back as though she'd just now seen him. Where'd Qawoor go off to?

I think one of the diplomats from Assan in the desert regions was talking to her about extending their rain season by a few weeks. They've been talking for a while, I guess she really does love her job, huh?

There was a bit too much admiration in his voice for Shayla's taste, so she grabbed his hand and changed the subject as quickly as she could.

Yeah, isn't that great? Well, the band's starting up, whadda ya say we hit the dance floor? Come on, it'll be fun! He nearly spilled his drink as she dragged him off through the crowd towards the floor in front of the bandstand.

But Shayla, Makoto protested lamely, what if she comes looking for me?

Shayla turned to him and grinned. Oh, it's not like we'll be hard to find. And besides, there's plenty of time left to get a step or two in with her, too.

Everyone who saw her coming got out of the way as quickly and politely as they could, and as they got within a few steps of the dance floor the band started the first chords and began to play. Many more nobles joined the pair and soon the dancing was the center of attention. People began to crowd around the floor as the space was quickly filled with moving bodies, some twirling in time to the music, some obviously dancing to their own beat. In the middle of the floor an elaborate formation was flowing in perfect synch, a gathering of royalty who'd been trained from birth in the ways of the court. There were alliances to be made this evening, as royal courtiers searched for the perfect political alliance among the young princes and princesses that had gathered.

Shayla and Makoto stayed away from that crowd, and as they moved together her sense of nervous joy grew more difficult to contain with each step. Here at last they were on the date she'd always dreamed of, ever since that first strange day they had met. Since then they'd quite literally given their lives for each other on more than one occasion, but she had never been able to get him alone for more than a minute or two. A part of her screamed out to tell him while she had the chance, but she felt the old barriers coming up between them, and the whole time all she could do was stare at him in wonder.

Dammit, why can't I say anything? We're dancing together in this beautiful setting on a perfect night, and I'm all frozen up like a fish in a shipping crate! I've been waiting for this for so long, and there's so much I want to tell him. This is the best chance I'll ever get, I've got to take it!

All she managed to get out was uhh, eep.

Makoto noticed that she was struggling with something, and his instincts told him what she was trying to tell him. But he knew that she had to say it for herself, so he guided their steps off the floor and outside of the crowd, in between two bushes, and waited patiently for her to speak.

Um, Makoto, listen. There's something I've been meaning to tell you, for a really long time... she blushed as her voice cracked over the sentence like a school girl's. Makoto started to say something, but stopped himself; if she was ever going to get over this childish awkwardness, she had to do it now. So he simply nodded for her to continue.

I guess, well, I think, I love you, Makoto.

There: she'd said it. There was no retracting it, no more pretending. As she looked at him through painfully apprehensive eyes he realized that the great Priestess of Fire Shayla-Shayla, the one who went to the greatest lengths to make the rest of the world think she was invincible, was at that moment as fragile as the flowers that surrounded her. She'd never really opened up to anyone but Afura, and then only as a friend and fellow priestess.

Makoto sighed. I know, Shayla. I've known for a long time. But, you've got to know that I love someone else. He winced as he saw some inner resolve break, as though the last vestige of hope she'd had had just been crushed.

But why? How could you possibly think that evil robotic demon could ever have the same feelings for you that I do? What kind of future could you possibly have together? The corners of her mouth were quivering gently and her shoulders began to shake, but he took her up in his arms suddenly, and let her cry.

he whispered into her ear, but the moment was wrecked suddenly when a screeching purple ball tumbled through the bushes behind them and knocked them both over.

Oh, hi master! Alielle said from behind her crimped locks, Sister Shayla, there you are! Hey, you guys have to hide me, one of the other princesses got in a fight with Lady Fatora. I tried to calm her down, but my hands slipped and well...

Shayla didn't even have the energy to protest this invasion, she simply pushed herself up off Makoto and walked away. He watched her go, a pained expression on his face, and Alielle flushed slightly.

Did I interrupt something, master Makoto? She remembered the conversation they'd had a month back, about Shayla's continuing interests in him, and from Shayla's barely concealed sobs as she made her way back towards the exit of the gardens Alielle realized that something had indeed been going on when she'd stumbled onto them.

Makoto just hung his head and sighed remorsefully. A part of him was glad that Shayla's reaction hadn't been more forceful, but that same lack of fire was almost more distressing. Somehow, he'd expected more of a fight from her, but it was clear that she lacked the will to argue over it, at least for tonight.

Alielle waited for a minute, then asked quietly, you told her, didn't you?

The single word was flat, leeched of all emotion.

Well, I'm proud of you, master. It's about time someone told her the truth, no matter how hard it might be to deal with.

But I never wanted to hurt anyone's feelings, said Makoto, I just had to tell her the truth. Do you think she'll ever be able to forgive me, Alielle?

She smiled. Oh, you know Shayla. She's always been quick to recover. I'm sure she'll forget all about it by tomorrow.

Makoto glanced at the red head of hair moving farther away through the crowd. He knew it wasn't going to be quite that simple, but he made himself smile at Alielle. I hope you're right.

****


I've never seen this many lace napkins on one table!

Afura grinned politely in response to this latest in a string of entertaining comments. This was turning out to be a most, interesting evening. John had the strangest habits, different even from the other earthlings, and it had become rapidly apparent that this America he had come from lacked any form of graceful high society that might have prepared him a little better for an occasion such as this.

One time, he continued, at my aunt Gracie's third wedding, they had all these helium balloons, and I sucked 18 of em in three minutes! My voice was squeaky for half an hour after that! Ha ha ha ha! He took another ladelfull of punch from the bowl in front of him, then asked her, have you ever done that?

she said as kindly as she could, I've never had the occasion to. The poor boy was clearly nervous, despite his earlier self-assurance when he'd first asked her to come with him. Of course, it wasn't as though Afura herself had much experience with this sort of thing, so she'd decided early on to just let the evening develop on it's own. Unfortunately, his nervousness seemed to be increasing as the night passed, and this wasn't doing anything to ease her own butterflies.

John was obviously aware of the awkwardness between them, and had been struggling all night with how to address it. Come on, man, he thought to himself, you can do better than this! Matthew Broderick was never this confused, especially in Ferris Bueller's Day Off!

Uhhh, listen, um, he looked around nervously like he was waiting for something disastrous to happen, would you, like to, uh, dance?

He gulped on that last word, and Afura smiled. I'd love to, she said, and held her arm out. John took it gingerly, as though he might break it off if he wasn't careful enough, and led her out to the dance floor.