~Chapter 29: Aftermath~

For a moment, we couldn't believe it. We were still waiting for Cell to reform yet again and blow us away. But there it was - where Cell had been, there was only a crater. Gohan turned back to normal from Super Saiyan and fell where he stood.

It finally sunk in. I think it was Yamucha that started cheering. I smiled, but I felt somewhat melancholy. My thoughts all started, "Thank Kami it's over, but..."

Gohan was exhausted - who wouldn't be? - and injured, so we went to Kami's lookout immediately for healing. Yamucha carried Gohan. As I recall, Tenshinhan carried the corpse of Trunks(the one from the future, remember), and I held 18, who was alive but not waking up. She must have been damaged in some way by Cell's insides. I think we lost Vegeta.

Dende was conscious of everything that had happened, but was still anxious and pleased to see us. He healed Gohan immediately, and already everyone began to talk about using the dragon balls and resurrecting the dead. Mr. Popo went off to fetch the balls. No one seemed to notice, but I was still holding 18, and she still wasn't moving. I approached Dende.

"Ah... Dende-sama," I said.

"You don't have to address me like that, Kuririn," said Dende.

I couldn't help but find it strange - here was Kami telling me not to give him a title of respect. I shrugged it off and asked him if he could heal 18. People stopped what they were doing and began giving me wary looks.

"Well," said Dende, "I can't heal machines, but since she's a cyborg, it might work."

"Would you?" I implored. My eyes were shining with hope, I'm sure. Seeing his confusion, I added, "She isn't evil. Really."

Dende hesitated. He looked around at all of the surrounding faces, ranging from wary to hostile, and then back at me. For several seconds, he did nothing. There was no sound.

"I trust you, Kuririn," he said at last. "Lay her here."

I did as he told me, filled with a rush of relief. I wasn't sure whether 18 was in a coma or what, but it was beginning to worry me. Dende placed his hands upon 18, and her eyes snapped open. She stood up.

18 seemed ready to fight; you can't blame her, considering what the last thing she was conscious of must have been. Almost everyone was still cautious of her, too, so a fight might indeed have broken out. I did my best to calm her down, though, gently explaining what had happened. I had barely mentioned the fact that Gohan had defeated Cell when none other than Gohan spoke out.

"I get it!" he said. "Kuririn likes 18!"

My blood turned to ice. I felt as if the weight of the world had just fallen upon me, as I was met by bemused stares from all, including 18. 'Mortified' doesn't begin to describe how I felt. I hit the world's savior over the head in frustration, but the damage was done.

18 radiated pure contempt at me. "Don't be stupid," she said. "What did you think I was going to do, hold your hand?" With that, she dived off the side of the Lookout.

The incredulity of the remark hurt, hurt badly, even as I felt I deserved it - what WAS I expecting? - but the obvious shock and disgust from the others hurt almost as much. How desperate they must have thought me: Kuririn's finally lost it, he's in love with a cyborg. I was almost as hard on myself. "Stupid," I thought. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

I was grateful for the grand distraction of the summoning of Shenlon. I had never seen the giant dragon before, and it was as awe-inspiring as I could have hoped. A huge mass of scaly green coils filled the perfectly black sky and glared down at us with eyes that shone red. "Give me your wishes," said the beast, "But beware, for they shall come true."

Tersely, the wish was made to resurrect those killed by Cell. I expected a flash of light, a surge of ki, anything, but the only visible effect was an astonished resurrected Trunks rising from the floor. The ki on Earth didn't feel that different from before, but then, 20,000 people are a drop of water in the population of this planet. The only noticeable ki defect was something that wasn't there - Goku.

We had known that this Shenlon would not be able to bring Goku back from the dead. We tried again anyway and failed. We were still trying to think of a way to bring him back when we heard a cheerful voice in our heads. "Hi everybody," it said, "This is Goku!"

It was Goku! He was talking to us from the afterlife through Kaio-sama (who, by the way, was resurrected with the wish). Anxiously, we all searched around us for the source of the voice, though we knew better.

He told us not to try to resurrect him. I didn't understand. Why would Goku want to stay dead? He gave us a speech for a couple of minutes that was peppered with reasons, including that he was happier in the afterlife anyway and that he thought the Earth would be a better place without him because he attracted evil. At the end of it, I still didn't understand. No, Goku, I wanted to say, how could you think the Earth would be better off without you? We need you. I wanted to say all that, but I was too awestruck and wary of interrupting. All I managed to do was choke out the single word, "Goku", which went unnoticed.

While Goku apologized to Gohan and told us goodbye, I numbly and silently pleaded for him to come back. Soon his voice was gone, and we were left empty - the world without Goku. It had always seemed such a hopeless and sad place each time he'd left it before.

Yet, in that moment, I didn't feel sad, not exactly. Goku had sounded so happy... I took comfort in that, at least. He was the happiest dead guy I'd ever heard. I said goodbye to Goku. I thought it was forever.

Shenlon impatiently reminded us that we still had one more wish. The dragon god actually seemed somewhat miffed at having been ignored. There are a lot of things that we might have used that second wish for - imagine being able to wish for anything you want, anything in the universe! Yet, no one had any ideas. A few murmured potential wishes floated by, but they were only said in half-seriousness. None of us knew what to say.

I didn't want to make the wish myself. It feels so greedy to make a wish that you know will come true. But I knew that soon the wish would either be used for something frivolous or not used at all, and I was thinking of the cyborgs. How sad it was that they had been used by Dr. Gero, changed. I wished for 17 and 18 to be changed into humans.

You've probably guessed that that didn't work, right? With my many references to my wife as a cyborg, if you didn't then you haven't been paying attention. I was shocked - so much for any wish we want. Shenlon was turning out to be a bit of a disappointment - that was the second wish in a row he'd failed to grant. (I'm kidding, of course. I'm extremely grateful to Shenlon and Dende that we were able to revive all of the thousands of people killed by Cell. Those people were shaken, but alive. It went a long way toward the healing of the world.)

Scrambling for something else, I thought of the bombs inside the cyborgs and had Shenlon remove them. I'm glad that I did that - it's a terrible thing to imagine, having a bomb inside of you. Shenlon bid us farewell and the dragon balls scattered.

I guess I must then have voiced a misconception of mine up to that point about 17 as a possible romantic interest for 18 rather then me. I wasn't aware that they were twins. To my astonishment, 18 came out from behind the pillar where she had apparently been hiding and corrected me, insulted me, and then left. "See ya later," she said.

Okay, stunned is not an accurate description of me at that point. Paralyzed is more like it. I'd not been sure that I'd ever see her again, and she suddenly comes out from behind the pillar... I was totally silent, my jaw hanging open, wondering what that meant. For his part, Yamucha tried to be supportive - "Hey, she said she'd see you later!" - but most of the rest still seemed disgusted with me. Oh well.

Tenshinhan left after that. He said that he'd probably never meet us again. He wasn't quite right.

We said our goodbyes and left for our homes. I felt happy, but it was not an untainted happiness. The loss of Goku weighed heavy on me, and it became heavier when it occurred to me that poor Gohan was going to have to tell Chichi about his death. I pondered feeling angry at Goku for asking to remain dead, and then at feeling guilty for the small part I may have played in the events leading up to his death, but those emotions felt distant and worthless to me. I was just tired, and I wanted to go home.

I received an extremely anxious reception at the Kame House. I got my big news out of the way quickly - Cell was dead, but so was Goku. It's best to do it like that - get it out in the open. Once again, I found myself recapping the events of the day. My account was quite animated - in fact, I believe I may have activated my ki flare a couple of times for effect. After that, we just sat around and marveled at the situation, the way things had turned out. Roshi-sama, Oolong, and I exchanged memories of Goku. That was fun. I could still do that.

We also watched a bit of the news. Two stories were all over the broadcast. One of them was that Mr. Satan, grand champion of the world, had defeated Cell and saved humanity. The reports showed him being paraded around the capital, met with cheers and bestowed with honors. He'd wasted no time in securing a cozy little spot for himself in the annals of history. I don't know how in the world he managed to take credit like that, but I'm an optimist - I have a little more faith in human beings than to think they would all buy that. I like to think that those with a little more common sense realized, from what they knew of Cell's power and what they saw on TV, that Mr. Satan could not possibly have defeated Cell. I do know that several brave magazines and newspapers printed cover stories on the true story of Cell, analyzing the creature and its path of destruction and featuring interviews, usually with Yamucha but on one occasion with me. Many Satan fans were furious and threatened to boycott these magazines, but they refused to print any retractions. Mr. Satan tried to sue a couple of these publications, but I'm happy to say that he failed. Incidentally, this whole affair is how it came to be that we all became semi-famous, but I'll get to talking about that later.

The other news story was more heartening - thousands presumed missing or dead had been found in cities where Cell had decimated populations, and more were being found every minute. A couple were hit by cars after appearing in the road (fortunately, there were no deaths), but the rest were okay. Dazed masses and tearful reunions were shown on the television. Reporters said that the causes behind this were still a mystery, but called the occurrence "miraculous".

A brief mention was made in the news of an unexplained darkening of the sky in a large part of the world. No connections were made between this and the returned dead. Too bad.

Just after breakfast the next day, I was summoned by a telephone call. It was the Ox King, asking me to come to a funeral for Goku, to take place that same day. Of course I said I would come.

It was a formal affair; All three of us (Umigame didn't go, not being fond of travel) had to dig pretty deep to find appropriate attire. I had knots in my stomach as we drove there. It felt very strange - we had already said goodbye to Goku. Anything further felt uncomfortable to me.

The service couldn't really be called a funeral, there not being a body. The centerpiece was a little monument to Goku, with photos and personal effects. Roshi-sama added a Kame School uniform from when Goku was a kid. I've never had an effect of Goku's. I'd never thought of it, but I regretted it then.

The atmosphere was one of solemn amazement. Many of us were still struggling to grasp the fact that Goku was dead; he'd been dead before, but that was different somehow - mainly, this time he was staying dead, or at least we thought so at the time.

I'll try to remember all of the people who were there. Remembering what everyone wore helps: it stands out because we aren't largely a formal wear group of people. Yamucha, Pu'ar, Bulma, Mrs. Briefs, Trunks(both of them!) Chichi, Ox King, Gohan, Oolong, Muten Roshi, and I were all there, as well as some friends of the Son family. The people in the worst shape were Gohan, who looked as if he were wrestling with an issue too heavy for someone so young, and Chichi.

Chichi came to me before the ceremonies. She looked... frail. Her eyes seemed big and dark and hollow. She was not crying, but she had been recently. I felt at once sympathetic and guilty. We had always been at odds with Chichi, the lot of us. She was the stick in the mud, the harsh mother, the crazy woman. There were even jokes about her being the only thing that Goku was really afraid of. But looking at her then, all of that was dispelled. She was grieved, small, human. I realized that all she'd been trying to do all her life was to make a normal, happy home for her family. And how hard she'd had it; her husband was always leaving on some adventure or another (not to say that Goku was a bad husband, but you have to admit he was gone a lot), her young child had been stolen away for a year - hard enough for a mother to cope with, but by the Great Demon Piccolo! - and both of them had left the planet to battle evil. Now Goku was dead. I shrunk away from her. What could I say?

"Chichi-san," I said, "Are you..."

"As well as can be expected, I suppose," she said breathlessly. "Kuririn."

"Yes?"

"You know that Goku- he felt very close to you. He always said..." She seemed unable to speak. "He talked about you."

"I guess... I mean, he did?"

"Well," she said, "If you want to say anything--" She threw up her arms slightly, a gesture of helplessness. Her stare seemed fixed upon a certain location in the floor, and her eyes were shut. "--Then you ought to be the one to say it." After nodding a couple of times, she left me to sit with her father.

So, throughout the service and the other speeches, I was writing on napkins. I've had the foresight to save these napkins, so I can relate more or less what I said about Goku at that service.

When I got up to deliver my eulogy, I looked around at all of the concerned faces. I was terrified that I would sound corny or trite or that my words would be discomforting. Still, I did my best.

"Goku was a great hero," I said. "He saved worlds, pushed himself beyond unimaginable limits of strength to beat demons and tyrants and creatures that threatened the safety of innocent people. He was a Super Saiyan warrior, as powerful as a star and as imposing as a mountain, and he did great things as a warrior, great things."

I scanned the crowd. People were sighing, turning away. Well, I thought, here's my big turn.

"But I don't think that that's what we're here to remember, not really. For somebody who could destroy a planet, Goku was one of the sweetest, most gentle men I've ever known. He always seemed friendly, and usually happy, and well, that was infectious. We were all close to him. I think that he may have been my best friend. I was pretty hostile as a kid, but Goku won me over. I think you'd have to have a heart of stone for him not to. I guess the thing I remember most about Goku is how hopeful he was. No matter how bad things got, he always had hope, and we all hoped with him. Without Goku, there seems to be just a little less hope in the world, a little less (smudged, and I don't remember)."

I think it might have been there that I got a bit emotional. I hadn't thought that I would.

"There was always something kind of untouchable about him. He was like a tensed spring or a butterfly: when you were in a room with him you could scarcely believe it was real. He always seemed just about to slip through your fingers. (There's a couple more sentences here, but I don't think I managed to get them out.) Well, he's gone now, but we have to carry on. We have each other, and this great big peaceful world, and maybe when things get really tough, we can just remember something about Goku that made us smile, and it'll give us some hope to sustain us."

I felt drained after the speech. I guess I hadn't realized until I put it into words like that just how much I missed him.

I went up to Gohan, for some reason full of apologies. "No, it was fine, Kuririn-san," he said, "It was good. It reminded me of Dad."

I have more memories of that occasion, but I don't want to dwell on it. Honestly, I debated whether or not to keep the eulogy in. That wasn't the last of Goku for us, not really. Some of the best times we had with him were in the decade after he came back to life.

Quite a few of us went to Chichi and said we would do whatever we could to help her. She insisted that she was fine, she could handle it. We made some promises anyway.

We also saw Trunks off that day. He was traveling back to his own timeline; he was pretty sure he could handle things now. We wished him luck. He must have been through a hell of a lot. I hope that he found peace in his shattered world. It's strange to think that the first thing he must have done was to kill 17 and 18, but I guess that's the way things had to be. It's worth noting that Vegeta was there when he left. They didn't speak to each other, but they seemed somehow to have resolved their differences. Trunks went back to his own time with a good feeling about his father. It wasn't wrong, really.

At home again, I was restless. I stopped writing. I made a couple of half-hearted attempts to get a job, but nothing came of it.

I should explain about money and life at the Kame House. It's a bit complicated.

Muten Roshi had a lot of money saved up to sustain him in life as a hermit. He didn't anticipate, however, that other people would be living with him, and expenses gradually chipped away at those savings. By the time I was resurrected after Frieza, we were actually living on what was left of Oolong's money, for Oolong was once quite rich (it involves shapeshifting, easily scared villagers, and little girls - you don't want to know). We were starting to run out of that during the time I was training to fight the androids. Roshi-sama impressed me by selling the greater part of his legendary porn collection, which brought in a substantial amount of money, but we knew it wouldn't last forever. We were looking for a source of income, and through a series of events I came to Bulma. To my great surprise, she said she'd give us whatever we needed.

"Are you serious?" I said.

"Sure. What do you guys need, like 60,000 zenii a year? That's nothing. I mean, I wouldn't give it away, but you're friends."

"But... I mean... we can't..."

"Look, don't worry about it. Just don't go on any spending splurges or anything. You've probably saved my life at some point, right? It's the least I can do. As for the turtle hermit, well, he may be an old pervert, but he's my old pervert." She winked at me. "Tell him I said that."

So it was for nearly a decade. Can you believe it? I always felt a little guilty about it, like I should be supporting us, but there it was. I have to thank Bulma again. You don't often encounter generosity like that.

Back on topic, I was restless. I did a lot of thinking. I thought of 18. The first thing I did was to categorically rule out any possibility of a romantic relationship between her and me. Get real, I told myself, like that's gonna happen. Besides, upon reflection I realized that I wasn't even sure that that was what I wanted. I was not in love with her - that fact, I went to great pains to hammer into my mind. How could I be? I barely knew her. I'd learned my lesson from Maron about basing everything on looks - I'd thought I was in love with her, and it took me months to realize that I never had been.

Still, I did want to see 18 again. I was worried about her. While it was pretty certain she could take care of herself as far as surviving went, I couldn't imagine that she'd do too well out in the world of people. And she deserves a chance, I thought. She deserves a chance to live a good life, to experience the best of the world. I may not have been in love with her, but I did care about her, and I liked her, anyway - I allowed myself that much.

I had no way of knowing where 18 was, however, not being able to trace her ki, and even if I did I doubt I would have had the nerve to go looking for her - that just seemed a bit too creepy, like stalking. Therefore, I did nothing about this feeling and just shoved it in the back of my head where it kept bothering me, nibbling at me.

The only time I discussed the subject with any of my friends was with Yamucha, about a week after the wishes were made. We were at his place, I'd come over because I couldn't think of anything else to do.

"You know, Kuririn, I've been thinking about 18, and I don't want to tell you how to run your life, but maybe that wouldn't be the best thing for you, at least right now."

"What do you mean?" I asked lamely.

Yamucha believed me when I said that she wasn't evil, but she could still be dangerous, he said. There were a lot of things we didn't know about the cyborgs. They were very strong and seemed indifferent, and if I started something I might get hurt, emotionally or physically. Besides, I shouldn't start a serious relationship with a girl based just upon looks and first impressions. Trust him, he said, he knew from experience.

"I wasn't thinking about her that way," I lied.

Yamucha gave me a look that let me know that he knew that was a load of crap. "Look," he said, "I don't mean to bring you down or anything. Who knows, maybe I'm totally wrong, but I don't want to see you get hurt. Just don't rush into anything, is all I'm saying."

I told him not to worry, I wasn't about to go search the ends of the Earth for her. I'm not that desperate, I said. I guess I might have come off as hostile, but I appreciated what Yamucha was doing. He always had been protective of me. I added his advice to the mental block around my feelings for 18, but it didn't stop bothering me. Whenever I didn't have anything to do, my thoughts went to her - where is she right now? Does she have a place to sleep, to live? Is she lonely? Did she ever find her brother?

My solution was to always have something to do. I organized the stuff in the attic of the Kame House. I started writing again and managed to sell my first short story. But my major occupation was helping Chichi and her family.

When word got around that Chichi was pregnant again, a lot of us came around to help in various ways, but I became a regular fixture there. Gohan was very busy with his studies, Chichi was already swamped with things to do and was trying to rest more now that she was pregnant, so I did a lot of things for the Son family. Made trips to the grocery store. Cleaned. Cooked. Filled the empty chair at their supper table. It was hectic sometimes, but I enjoyed it.

I fit in fairly well, too. Surprisingly, Chichi warmed up to me after some time. She'd never really liked me before, but she told me that they appreciated what I was doing. I talked to her sometimes; she seemed to be coping pretty well, all things considered. Sometimes we would talk about Goku, and I learned about a side of Goku I'd seen only a little of. Goku really was a good and loving family man when he was around. As she told me of some of the things he used to do, I started to understand just why she missed him so much, and why she'd always been so frustrated when he was off training for or fighting one thing or another. A lot became clearer to me in those conversations.

I also spent some time with Gohan. I did some things outdoors with him, let him breathe. It felt just like old times, but not quite. Gohan wasn't the same kid I'd known before, and I mean more than just that he was getting older. He was still cheerful and friendly most of the time, but he seemed troubled. I talked to him about that. He had a lot on his mind, the poor kid. All of his worries were about other people, no thought for himself. I did my best to comfort him, help him unwind a bit, but my words felt small and worthless compared to the weight on Gohan's mind. That was a tough period for him.

I don't regret the time I spent with them; I hope I helped them cope in some small way. Yet, I was around there just a bit too often, and held on just a little bit too long. Things started to become a little uncomfortable. I didn't notice it at first.

I kept hanging around there until Bulma came there one time and happened to make a remark that scared me. "I think it's more likely to find Kuririn here than at his place lately," she said.

It was a lighthearted comment, but it got me thinking. I realized it was true. I heard a kind of voice in my head.

"Stop trying to replace Goku. You never will."

It made sense now: I'd been looking for purpose in my life, so without even thinking about it, I'd supplanted myself into the gap in Goku's family. I was aghast when I realized it. This was more than just helping out. This was dangerous.

So, I left them before I'd overstayed my welcome and sat around at the Kame House, feeling confused. What was I missing? Eventually, after talking to my old mentor Roshi-sama, I decided I'd do a bit of traveling. I left home in search of closure. I traveled by flight. I brought only a backpack.

When I was flying near a certain area of forest, I caught a glimpse of something in the corner of my vision: a wisp of yellow and white. I saw only a split-second's worth of the image, but it seemed to have the shape of a flying woman.

Immediately, I halted my flight and whipped around to see. There was nothing there but endless sky stretching over a thick forest. I flew all over in search of what I'd seen, but found nothing.

I shook my head. "You're losing it, man," I said to myself. "There's nothing there at all."

I continued then on my flight. I went a few other places before arriving at my final destination, but those stops are unimportant - I was just catching up with some old friends and acquaintances. Yajirobe politely declined a joking offer of a rematch. Inhabitants of a certain market neighborhood were surprised to see the funny-looking strong kid again. Finally, I came to my last stop.

The Orinji Temple seemed smaller than I'd remembered it. It looked like an image in a painting, rendered in dull earth tones with splashes of green. I had to rub my eyes to make myself believe that I was there. It was a place reserved in my mind to the most distant and dreamlike of memories.

Yet, as I approached it, such long-forgotten or blurred memories came rushing back, clear as glass but far more random. One of them greeted me at the door. It was my old rival, the same boy who had oppressed me in my youth and whom I'd annihilated in my first Budokai match ever. He was very surprised to see me. "You haven't changed much," he said, but he had changed. His voice had lost the hostility. A sneer no longer tugged at the corner of his lip. I bowed politely to him, but I didn't say anything of consequence. What was there to say?

I was grateful to find that my old sensei, my Master Orin, was still there. "It's the prodigal son," he said to me. "Tell me, does this mean you've become the strongest fighter the world has ever known?"

I smiled and shook my head. "I gave up on that goal a long time ago."

"Yet you have become very strong, in body and in spirit. Your exploits have not failed to reach us here. You flew here, correct?" I nodded. "Yes... I expected great things for you."

We chatted for a while longer. It was actually he that came to the point.

"You have not returned here to stay," he said.

"No, I haven't." I admitted.

"Nor should you have. This is not the place for you any longer. But there is something on your conscience. Tell me, and I will see if I may help."

I thought for a while before responding. The question I'd come to ask was making a lump in my throat. Was I afraid of what I might hear?

"Can you tell me who my parents were?" I said.

Orin-sensei folded his hands. He scanned me for a moment with eyes that were aging, but alert.

"Come," he said to me, "Let me show you something."

I followed him outside and a short way into the forest. We stopped among a group of trees that didn't seem especially different from all the rest.

"This is where I found you," he said.

I leaned down and stared intensely at the base of one of the trees. After nearly a minute, I caught the old familiar flash: big, strong hands reaching down to lift me out of the little bed where I lay, at the base of a tree. For the first time, it became clear to me which tree was in the vision, and to whom the hands belonged, but that was it. I still felt empty. I still felt an unanswered yearning to know where I came from.

"Do you know anything about... how I got here?"

"No."

I became frustrated and angry. "Well... I mean... what kind of person leaves kids in the forest?"

"If I knew, I would tell you."

He started giving me advice - sage advice about how to deal with this and how relationships formed in life can be as close and important as those dictated by biology or something like that. I'm guessing. I wish I could remember what he said, but I don't remember a word. Even then, I wasn't listening. I was still staring at the tree. I was still searching the innocent plant for answers it could never give me. The tree sagged slightly in the wind and drooped its branches, almost as if it were apologizing or even reaching out to me. The thought struck me as ludicrous immediately - there was no way that a simple tree could care. No way at all.

I took my time getting home. I stopped at the most scenic spots I could find and looked out at the sky and the ocean. The trip had yielded no answers. If anything, I felt more confused than before. Not feeling ready to move, I slept on a bluff, out in the open.

I missed the moon that night.

The next day, I passed the same stretch of forest as before. I caught the same wisp in the corner of my vision. I almost ignored it, but thought better of it and looked.

This time, the vision did not disappear. It resolved itself into 18. I felt a dull thud in my chest. This was unreal. I could hardly believe it.

I stared at her for a while before getting up the courage to say something.

"Maybe the first time was an accident," I ventured.

"Maybe," she conceded. Her voice carried poorly. It was windy.

"Can we talk?"

She jerked her head at a nearby clearing. We landed there.

She was wearing clothing I hadn't seen her in before. She's as beautiful as I remember, I thought, but I struggled to put that out of my mind. She frowned slightly, her blue eyes cold and alert and her arms curtly folded. She looked at me emotionlessly and said, "So, talk."

"Um, well... I've been thinking about you." I wasn't sure how it sounded. I wasn't even sure how she took it, so I pressed on. "I mean, how are you doing? Do you have a place to live?"

"I live in a cabin in the forest," she said. "With my brother."

The trees around us swayed violently in the breeze. Strands of 18's hair blew into and away from her face. I told myself to press on. This was my only chance, I couldn't lose it. Think of a response. Just say anything.

"Oh, so you did find him, then... um... Still, it must be pretty isolated out here, huh?"

Her eyebrow arched in disdain. "Hmph. I'm fine. Worry about yourself. What reason do you have to be thinking of me, anyway?"

"Oh, I don't know," I mumbled, "Maybe I'm crazy."

"That's occurred to me."

For a while, neither of us said anything. Then, she spoke again.

"You know, it may not have been the smartest thing in the world to meet me out here. It would be very easy for me to kill you. Your friends might never know it was me." A pause. "I won't, but I could, and I might have."

"I know." I wasn't worried.

"Don't think I'm not because of any emotional reasons, either. I'm a cyborg. I don't have feelings like that."

The remark made me feel powerfully sad. She was denying herself. "I don't think that's true," I said.

18 looked shocked for a moment, and then her demeanor underwent a shift from merely annoyed and somewhat curious to guarded and pissed off. She scowled. "Did you have a reason for talking to me?"

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that if you needed a place to stay, we probably have room at the Kame House. I'd understand if that's weird, because everyone there is male and you're... not male..." I winced. "...but we could probably find another place for you to stay if you wanted. I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to put the moves on you or anything, but... there are a lot of people out there, 18. I know you probably don't care much for them right now, but a lot of them aren't so bad... once you get to know them..." I trailed off.

She considered this for a moment, then nodded.

"Well, you've let me know."

Back at home, I wondered excitedly whether the meeting had been a dream. I didn't say anything to anyone about it - it felt too weird. When Roshi-sama asked me how my trip went, I just told him that I didn't find the answer I was looking for, but it had helped anyway. Little further mention was made. Time passed.

On a night about two weeks later, a light rain was falling over Kame Island. I'd just been hit with inspiration for a short story and had been writing for twenty minutes or so when there was a very unusual event - a knock at the door. I answered it.

She looked as if she'd already turned around to leave. Seeing me, she hesitated, then finally resolved to stand in the doorway. She was soaked.

"Can I come in?"

--END OF CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE--