Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ.

Author's notes: This took me quite a while I do admit but in hindsight I'm amazed it got finished at all what with the constant interruptions I had while writing it.

"Double quotations indicate conversations."

'Single quotations in italics indicate thoughts.'
:: indicate telepathic conversations::

Glossary :

Ohayo: Good morning

Baka: Idiot

Kuso: (Generally) damn or shit.

Hai: Yes

Iie: No

Demo: But

(O)tousan: Father

(O)Kaasan: Mother

Katana: Literally, a Japanese sword, generally refers to the typical samurai sword.

Sensei: Teacher

Gomen: Sorry

Ten: Heaven

Ken: (a) Sword, not necessarily a Japanese one.

Saishuu: The last

Wakizashi: The short sword carried by the samurai along with a katana. Together they are referred to as Daisho.

Haori: The outer garment of a samurai that resembles a thigh length coat

The air was cool where the breeze brushed against his skin. The ancient trees that over hung the stables whispered of age old legends in a language long forgotten by human kind. His fingers gripped the metal door handle, from within came the rustle of impatient hooves in the thick straw. He lifted the door in its runner and pulled it back. The scrape of steel against brick came from with in and Yajarobe felt himself tense. He tugged the door back rapidly, aware of the flesh bound gust of wind within impatient for its freedom. It was the third time he had done this he knew what to expect now. Three dawns spent attempting to free the big stallion before he broke the door down and himself with it had taught him not to take too long about it.

It had taken all of those three days to retrieve all the information from the two components. Three days, filled with a tense and restless uncertainty. He had watched her. Even after three sensu beans she was still weak. A certain air of fragility and frailty that was at odds with her personality had replaced her usual robustness. Though as Vegeta had found out it had done nothing it dull her temper or her quick reactions, there was a certain amount of steel in Maya's spine that nothing could touch. At some point in those three days Maya had come to a decision, one Yajarobe instinctively knew he wouldn't like. She was quietly restless, when she wasn't sleeping she was quietly typing away on the old lap top. She was completely preoccupied, and he was aware that any intrusion would not be appreciated. So he skirted around her, watching. Rolling the name Saishuu ten ken over in his mind. The legend of Saishuu ten ken was older even than the samurai, it troubled him and wondered what she'd meant.

He'd sat in her room that first night resting propped against a wall in the shadows. In a manner, he hadn't rested in for years, not since he was a samurai in more than name. The scent of wisteria blossom had fought a valiant but losing battle with the sharp smell of antiseptic that filled even the darkest corner. The last time he'd sat like this, he'd carried a wakizashi of his own. In the moon silvered room, Yajarobe had been fully aware of the watershed that had caused the bottom to fall out of his life. Now here he was again one knee up, one stretched out the hilt of his katana resting against his collar bone. He hadn't slept. He'd sat there in a half wakeful daze listening to Maya's breathing. Watching the curtains flutter in the breeze, silvered by the moon that dipped in through the window. He had tensed between each breath waiting anxiously for the next. Fearful in case it never came.

As Maya slid ever deeper into unconsciousness her breathing gradually became less laboured. Yajarobe had sat against the wall for hours even as cramp slowly claimed his muscles. Then in the darkest hour before dawn, he had risen and leaning against the bed post had looked down at the fragile shadow in the bed. Her skin already pale from blood loss had seemed almost waxy under the moonlight. Only her hair seemed bright even beneath the glow of the moon that leeched everything of its life and colour. He brushed the edge of the bed sheet with his fingers. The bones in her hands seem to peer through her skin, she was so very thin. He'd been shocked at how lean she was as if she was comprised of mere muscle and bone. As he stood to one side and watched while Chichi and the doctor patched Maya up, he felt oddly as if he'd unconsciously fallen back into the roll of the samurai bodyguard. Chichi had rinsed the blood and muck from her hair and skin with an almost uncharacteristic gentleness, her face set into anxious lines that reflected the troubled gleam in her dark eyes. When they started to undress her Yajarobe reluctant to go far, had taken Maya's sword and walked out on to the balcony.

It was heavy, that was the first thing he noticed, far heavier than his katana. Their combined blood had dried onto the blade, the heavy belt and scabbard. A deep reddish brown against the bright reflective metal. The belt was in places so caked with dried blood that there was no sign of the silver metal that lay beneath. Maya's blood dried to the same flakiness as weather beaten old paint, flaked off onto his fingers. It left Yajarobe feeling strangely horrified. He cleaned the weapon sitting cross legged outside her window, skimming the blood from the hard surface. The blade needed resharpening little chips ran along its length and here and there deep scratches had appeared on the usually flawless surface. The edge dulled by its passage through the deavel's body, slowly regained its usual mirror bright lustre beneath his hands.

Even once it glittered in the light, sharp and dangerous again Maya didn't carry it she stuck with the much lighter wakizashi. Clearly, in her current state her usual weapon was far too heavy. Even so, she still carried herself like a warrior, up right and strong, but it was all a front. The light had gone out of her. A few bags of blood and a couple of sensu couldn't erase the injuries she had suffered completely. This odd vulnerability aroused a fierce protectiveness within Yajarobe that he'd thought was long since dead.

There was far more to Yajarobe than most people realised. On the surface, he seemed to be one thing but the darkest part of his true self was well hidden. He laughed and ate with great enthusiasm and on the surface, he seemed laid back even to the point of being lazy. He often seemed some what of a coward, unwilling to put himself in any danger. Underneath all that however was the skill and steel of the samurai he should have been. No fool was Yajarobe. He hadn't become a samurai at sixteen by being lazy, or a coward. And Maya who was so like himself, struck some deep cord within him. Yajarobe sighed. It wasn't even that he saw her as beautiful, for that, attractiveness was tempered with pride and a dangerous fierceness. It was something far less shallow a meeting of two spirits driven by the same force or perhaps it was, as his Kaasan would have said. That they were two swords flashing momentarily beneath a blazing sun.

He watched the black horse canter down the slope of his paddock. Watched as the stallion swung around at the fence and charged back up. When he glanced back over his shoulder he could see Maya one hand on the veranda post, her beautiful hair fluttering loose about her waist watching the black horse run. Her whole face filled with an intent longing. Kamikaze seemed held by the same spell he halted and stared up at her, his eyes very large and luminously bright, his ears sharply pricked, his nostrils flared wide. He flung his head up and down and called her, pawing the ground with one solid round fore foot. Maya just stood very still and watched him, a faintly amused smile tugging at her lips. He snorted one piercing snort and twirled away, tail streaming out like a banner out behind him. She couldn't help but smile. Maya lent her weight against the post and wondered how long it would be until they could send the salt spray flying in their wake again.

Three days, three days to work out when the storm would break. Three days of running her hands over Skip's precious lap top. Three days of pretending, she wasn't in agony. Three days that felt like three years. When time and space seemed to have transported her to another world all together. Three days it sounded like nothing at all. She knew now how long it would take them, roughly at least. Around three years, it made her feel sick. She reasoned that she'd need to do something in the mean time. Damn Kami some how she'd make him!

They'd sent Trunks on his way, with Maya and Piccolo both well aware of just who he was. It showed after all, in every stubborn gesture, in every blue eyed glance. It was impossible that he could be anyone else's son. His parental heritage radiated out of him, to those who knew, it was unmistakeable. A half saiya-jin with lavender hair and bright blue eyes, how else could that be? Maya couldn't help but laugh to herself. She'd made sure that Trunk's didn't know that she knew but Gokou's astonishment had been typical.

"He's from the future and he looks just like his parents, and he's a saiya-jin how do you think I could miss that?" Gokou had laughed at the pair of them, a little embarrassed that the thought hadn't occurred to him. His blood running cold at the thought that someone else might have come to the same conclusion.

Three years, three days tired as she was it swirled around her head. She reasoned that there were at least eight of the twenty four deavel left alive. The eight strongest and craftiest the most dangerous of the twenty four. She was very quiet, thinking almost constantly of ways and means. Why was easy enough but how? How, now that was going to be the hard part. 'How do you kill something that in fifteen years has proved itself immortal?' She tried not to let her preoccupation show. Yajarobe was constantly close by, his eyes followed her. With her sharp awareness, she could feel his ki close by where ever she went. She felt a little embarrassed at the concern she'd caused, but not regretful. Ben could never have been allowed to live. All the same, she'd seen the utter fright in the eyes of those nearest to her. She looked down at Socrates sitting on her foot and sighed. Her troubles were again swirling, just like a storm in a teacup. Only small but barely contained. She sat down on the veranda next to Socrates, smoothing her fingers over his fur. The old cat slipped up into her lap.

"At least poor Ren can rest now hmm Socrates. Poor Ren. I hope that bastard Ben gets pulled to pieces by the hounds themselves." Maya said quietly, her voice filled with a nasty slither of satisfaction. Socrates stood up on his hind legs and pressed his small chocolate paws to her face. He gazed up at her with his large rather wise blue eyes, and meowed.

The wind rustled the wisteria sending the long lantern shaped blossoms into a fluttering dance. Beneath the long fragrant blossoms the senshi listened as Maya rather wearily explained.

"Those two parts, one is the memory the other was the device he used to get here I'm still not exactly sure what it is." Her voice was steady but tired, it rose and fell in its usual faintly musical fashion. The breeze lifted her hair from where it hung loose around her face. Ben's coming had upset the fragile balance again. Maya knew instinctively that the others would follow. It would take the deavel a few years to find away to get to her but they would in the end, unless of course she took pre-emptive action. The memory was just a word she used, it was greater and more than any computer memory ever made. It was Ben's mental memory everything he'd seen and heard everywhere he'd been compressed into a neat computerised form. She glanced around the pergola, at the group of young men and women under the purple and white blossoms, all their attention focused on her.

They listened each in their own characteristic manner. Vegeta with his eyes closed leaning against a post feigning disinterest. Piccolo sat cross legged on the veranda his white cape draped around him. Tien, Yamcha, Kuririn and Yajarobe all sat at the long wooden table nursing their drinks.

"Give it to me I'm sure I'll be able to work out what it is and how to use it." Buruma smiled brightly, her eyes gleaming with enthusiasm.

"Well…" Maya knew full well she'd never work it out she'd lose interest first. She wasn't like Buruma or even her old friend Skip. Her knowledge was more practical than inspired. If it had been Skip, he'd have worked it out inside 24 hours. She had no doubt Buruma would too, but she was reluctant to put the source of so much trouble in to Buruma's naïve hands.

"Oh come on I'm a genus remember."

"How could we forget." Yajarobe interjected dryly, at Buruma's complete lack of modesty.

"What was he?" Yamcha asked quietly looking at Maya intently over his glass of beer.

"A Deavel, a cyborg, he was human to start with but human bodies wear out so they replaced much of their bodies with mechanical parts. That way they don't age or die."

"Are they the ones responsible?" Gokou looked up at her sharply remembering the long moments as they crouched on the ground and the distant sound of metal on metal.

"Hai"

"But why do they want you woman, it's not as if you're attractive or anything." Vegeta opened his eyes and smirked at her.

"I'm the last…oh and I'm responsible for there being only eight…" Maya's eyes glittered from beneath her lashes her tone was decidedly flippant.

"Only eight….why, how many were there to start with?!" Yamcha spluttered.

"Twenty four"

"You killed 16 of those things!"

"Well not personally, not all of them at any rate." Her eyes twinkled.

"Maya!" Gokou was appalled but Yajarobe, Tien and Kuririn just laughed. Piccolo regarded Maya thoughtfully.

"Everything dies Gokou and between them they completely destroyed every living thing, all for their own selfishness. Death was far to kind as it was."

"Maya!"

"I don't know why you're so appalled, you've seen what they did. You've seen how determined they are to end my life too do you really think they'll stop at that? Ben is nothing compared to the rest of them and they will find a way to get here."

There was silence. Maya's voice so quiet, so steady seeped into their minds. Gokou still appalled now felt sickened as well. Unwilling to hear any more he focused on her hair. Maya's hair seemed to radiate a light of it's own as it coiled coyly around her arms and spilt down her back. Vividly bright against the dark navy silk of her haori, maybe it was just the fact that it was so rare to see it freed from the usual tight plait that made it so easy to focus on. Then again, anything was better than thinking about what she'd just said. Those callous words so coolly said didn't fill him with joy, so he stared at her hands instead unwilling to meet her eyes. There was a multitude of deep scars visible just below the deep open sleeves of her haori. One the deepest trailed up her arm disappearing into the sleeve a deep white scar puckered at the edges and very white against her tanned skin. There was another thing to think about. Maya sat up suddenly, her eyes widened. Only the rustle of the wisteria above penetrated the silence. Maya stood up slowly and turned around gazing down the hillside to dense line of trees at the very bottom of the valley. She frowned, the swath of grass rippled and slowly disappeared.

The world began to waver. The hills and the mountains blue with distance vanished. The deep blue vault of the sky beyond the dancing wisteria grew dark and heavy with odd brown tinged clouds. The trees in the valley, indeed the whole valley strangely and miraculously disappeared. The only trees visible to the eye were dead, grey skeletons that eternally clawed at the oddly coloured sky. Gokou's breath caught in his throat for beyond the far edge of the neat earthy pavers and the barrier of wisteria, Maya's world appeared. Just as he remembered it dry and lifeless. A little ripple of nervousness ran through the senshi. Like the rising tide. Gokou gripped Chichi's fingers and watched Maya with anxious eyes.

She stood terribly still staring out at the ravaged plain that she knew all too well. Her heart pounded and the breeze flung her hair repeatedly against her back, the haori fluttered open and slapped against her legs. The hot vaguely humid air reached her face. Her mind seemed frozen in shock. Out of the haze a man appeared. She knew him, his pale blue eyes, and his tangle of overly blonde hair. His eyes bored into her. She felt oddly as if she were rooted to the spot held by his gaze. 'Is the whole world going mad?' She froze head up, and glared back at him and whispered something far and distant. His lips moved, mouthing words no one could hear, but Maya understood.

"Where is Ben?" Blood burnt in her veins, she understood, but Ben was dead. The hot blood filled her head, pulsed in her veins and drowned out her caution and commonsense in a red hot haze.

Gokou gripped Chichi's hand and placed her half behind him. He watched horrified as Maya took a single step forward, one hand dropping down to the hilt of the wakizashi still concealed under the folds of her haori. A single step to cross the barrier between the strange vision of that other world and this. Her foot stepped across the pavers and out onto what should have been grass. The world, both worlds trembled and Maya became trapped in the cross fire. It was as if she was caught in a shock wave. Her body shook all over and the vision evaporated in an instant, but not before they each saw the big mans lips move in one final threat.

"I will find you."

She felt herself falling from far away, a mere observer. She saw rather than felt her hair fall around her face like the quick churning give and pull of the water in a rip. Yajarobe ran forward on silent feet and caught her half way to the ground. He caught hold of her arms just above the elbow and quite unexpectedly, her hands buried themselves into his gi. He crouched beside her, trying to gather her together, but she trembled faintly and gripped his gi still tighter. Her hair hid her face from them all. Yajarobe feeling the odd shock waves that kept running through her and the odd sparking heat of her skin brought his face down level with her ear and whispered.

"It's alright, it's gone but you have to pull yourself together everyone is watching us." He felt her fingers grip his gi convulsively, she took several uneven breaths and slowly released his clothing from her grasp.

"Gomen" It was a mere whisper of sound. He kept hold of her and drew her very slowly and gently to her feet. They stood for a moment regarding each other, Yajarobe with the front of his gi rumpled and Maya with her long hair tangled in the strings and tassels of her haori.

"Arigatou" She gave him a quick stiff bow and turned back the way she had come. She passed the senshi and shuttled herself inside, the skin on her arms still tingling from Yajarobe's grip.

The chilled water slipped down her throat. Her eyes half hidden and distorted behind the glass glittered with a certain amount of frustrated malice. 'I will find you.' She glared into the glass knowing all to well the rest of that line. 'I will find you and when I do I'll kill you.' He'd be twice as determined when he worked out what had happened to his brother. She drained the glass feeling the cool water slip down her throat. 'Not if I find you first.'

(2004)