Chapter Two – To Accessorize
August 14th, 1945
He was at last acknowledging reality or simply voicing a reality he had come to believe in but never dared speak. In any event, the Emperor Of Japan was prepared to solemnly speak before a nation that had never heard his broadcasted voice. He would say publicly, unequivocally and unconditionally that he was only just a man, leading a nation of mortal beings like himself, and that the nation in question had been defeated in a brutal war. The Chrysanthemum Throne was preparing for the once unthinkable but now perhaps inevitable surrender to Allied Forces. The war that had been called by at least two names was also about to be called done.
Emperor Hirohito would make this historic speech the next day, hopefully in time to avert both another ruinous atomic bombing and the movements of his military's own top officers, who had begun to see their revered Emperor as a flawed vessel in which to contain the divine. In short, men loyal to their ruler were trying to thwart the will of men loyal to the war.
A young man removed from this struggle yet whose heart lay with those who fought surrender was less than twelve hours away from willingly and happily trading his own life to thwart destiny's path. This was the driving goal and sole purpose of Awa Urashima. Beyond words read to him, and words he was to read prior to his mission, he had inscribed words of his own and sealed them in a compartment in his shoe.
*To The Breath Of God Itself, Our Divine Wind : Blow only in my direction, or remain still. My goal is for my spirit to leap from that plane directly past the clouds, and then reach and walk through the gates of the Heavens. This is my dream. Do not get in the way of it.*
His own prayers done with, Urashima, who had the respect of the officers who delivered discipline on a hair trigger, wandered freely and overheard the others making theirs.
"…when I came I believed. But did they have to keep beating me? I'm not sure this eye sees straight anymore. Please guide me home."
"…allow me to see some small piece of your plan. My mother is only a woman, as you have made them, and wept to see me leave. Let me see your plan and how I may stop the Yank advance, so that the gentle creature that bore me knows the answer to her pleading of 'Why?'"
"…can this really be a surprise attack? How can even the enemy be so stupid as to not expect us, after all these months? Should I ask you to make them amnesiac, or is this hubris? I must…"
"…they say to hit a smoke stack rather than a big gun, but smoke stacks don't bombard my brothers from afar. I was never good with intricate rules in school. Why now, when I have pledged my life to the Holy Chrysanthemum Seat, must there still be so very many intricate rules?"
At the last, Urashima encountered two he knew. Both were weaklings, but at least Fudo spoke no treason.
"…I have tried and tried to empty my poor stupid mind. But all I see is my hands shaking, the targets blurring, my will faltering. They say these Americans are fanatics who just roll up their sleeves and keep going, even past death. How am I to triumph over such yokai, without your grace and your firm hand upon my shoulder? How am I to do it—even if they are only men like myself? Breath Of God, empty me of doubt. Be Invoked."
Urashima expected treason and blasphemy both from Kusama.
"…came upon the ruins of my house and found all of them dead. I held the upper half of what had been my bratty little sister. I saw my father's head lying nearby. I saw my mother split apart from her head through her legs. Yet I felt nothing. I feel nothing now. I have to taunt fools like that hothead in order to get beaten so that I may feel something. Deliver me to Heaven or Hell. Deliver me straight to the President's House in America. But as I pass, Kami, please, let me again feel something real and know firmly that I was once alive!"
Urashima heard these and other prayers, many filled with doubts. The ice in his veins was not moved.
*Don't let them get in my way, either.*
At a hospital for the war's wounded, men who felt almost as little as Kusama lit up to see their angel, the one who didn't lecture them about their foolishness in being wounded, or laziness in not finding new reasons to return to the arenas of death.
*Kami, she brings our meals, our sheets, and even cleans our filth. When she is near, the pounding of the shellfire in my head ceases briefly. I thank you for our girl.*
*I will be by your side in Heaven soon. I ask only that you find our girl a spot of Heaven right here on Earth. I have no legs anymore, but she makes me feel like I could dance.*
*Women do need to kick our sorry asses. But most do not understand that when a man is broken, he needs a gentler hand for that time. One here does, and that, God, is why we adore Hinata.*
The men who were basically intact and still capable of bragging loudly were attended by the other nurses. Those shattered and considered useless were left to the care of one young girl, who the women considered cursed, but who the men considered a blessing.
She always made sure to be well away from these men when she cried herself to sleep at night. Better times would come, but for now all she had was the ability for her forced smile to make those men smile, some of them one last time.
"You did not take me when twice the sky fell. So if you do not wish to have me soon, can I have someone else to be with? I am not proud. I will take any old thing you see fit to leave me. Be Invoked."
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 9TH, 2001
FROM THE PRIVATE JOURNAL OF MOTOKO AOYOMA
I awoke as I have on many mornings for the past weeks, to the rhythmic sounds of two bodies slapping together, and the delighted groans that accompany this. This then is their morning quickie. After all, it has been nearly three hours since they last started in.
"Good morning, Starshine—the Earth says Hello."
Mutsumi has contacted her brother in the construction industry, and he is to deliver some noise-canceling headphones, a blessing to all who dwell here. The sad part is, they really are keeping it down, or trying to. We who must dwell in the audible shadow of their passion have even considered asking that Naru's little sister Mei be sent to dwell with us, on the theory our 'happy humpers' would show restraint in her presence. That, or persuade Kanako to pose as Mei—I believe she could pull it off.
A slight movement on the floorboards near my room tell me that a more easily obtained goal is at hand.
Motoko moved like lightning and caught the would-be Santa before she could escape.
"You don't have to do this, you know."
The eyes of Shinobu Maehara looked weary, but this was not from being kept up by Naru and Keitaro's coupling.
"It's just tea, buttered biscuits and some jam. I know you like that, before your workout with Sempai."
Motoko shook her head.
"And what for Su? Because yesterday morning, it was your own home-cooked chili-cheese fries, and some banana pudding. For Mitsu, a double egg and cheese sandwich every morning, so she can maintain her monsoon pace. Easily reheated fruit and nut oatmeal for our young lovers, and melon jello salad for Mutsumi."
Shinobu had been napping when Mutsumi found that, so she was spared the peals of laughter as the jello mounds shook and shimmied almost as much as the one they were intended for.
"Well, what would you have me do? Motoko, I was horrible to all of you."
Shinobu's iron-fisted efforts to keep her date with Arlo from being anything other than perfect had not achieved anything save earning the temporary ire of her friends. But as was usual with the sweet young girl, she now overcompensated for her bad time in a major way.
"Yes, you were. And we made our displeasure clear, and now that time is done. It was your turn in the barrel, Shinobu. A mark of residency at the Hinata-Sou."
"But what about Kei-Sempai? He was joining all of you to gut Arlo when you thought he wanted to jump me in my room."
Motoko laughed lightly.
"Our brother learned that over-protectiveness of our little sister is a natural reaction. I consider this, even more than his seeing my nude body, to be a mark of our acceptance of him."
Shinobu gained a sharp look, but did not become the shrew she had been a few days prior.
"We keep calling him that. None of us wants him to be our brother. As nice as Arlo is, my dreams still lie with the one I can't shut out of my heart."
Motoko sat her down on the futon. She looked that tired.
"Then do both yourself and Arlo-San a great favor. Make him a boy you are interested in knowing better, instead of the repository for your need to get past Kei. Shin-Chan, we each have deep weaknesses. Yours is the tendency to let your imagination get away with you. It happened on the beach, when Kei was to resuscitate you—and instead got his manhood clocked. It happened when you learned of my confession to him. As it was for my denial of my feelings and my fear of Tsuruko, so are you at your worst when you anticipate your blood pressure into four digits."
Shinobu shook her head.
"But I was such a little bitch. That's not like me. I don't want it to ever be like me."
Motoko tapped her on the forehead with two fingers.
"Baka—you don't get to escape growing up. Naru's glasses couldn't keep that one boy back. Kitsune couldn't be hung over while plotting some scheme forever. I cannot be practicing katas forever, and so forth. Will you end up less perpetually sweet than you once were? Of course! Even a true Yamato Nadeishko must keep steel in those long sleeves, so to run a household. Our Shinobu is growing up, and more excitingly, she is growing up with us. She is becoming more assertive-just as her sempai did. You see? He really is like your brother."
Shinobu yawned.
"I still wanna be one of those sisters in his ecchi collection."
"So do we all. But do not mistake your mistakes for who you are, and do not think we love our sister any less if all she makes us is a standard breakfast. Now, was I your last delivery?"
"Yeah. Now, I just have to…"
Motoko's fingers had moved quickly to the right nerve clusters, and put Shinobu out like a light. She placed her fully on the futon, and covered her.
"Sleep well, Shin. May our brother be yours alone, if only in your sweet dreams."
JOURNAL
I will speak to Kei about perhaps letting the 'Keitaro Hunt' go this evening—though Shin actually seemed to be enjoying cosplaying her sempai the last few nights. It also occurs to me that while I may be able to shut Shin-Chan down, of late, there is nothing that can do so for the girl who was Kitsune.
Mitsu, what have you done with our trickster?
Mitsu was making the honey and jelly sandwiches that would be her lunch, and likely her dinner as well. Motoko for her part re-steeped her tea leaves from earlier before meeting Keitaro on the rooftops.
"What are you asking me?"
Mitsu was forever making notes these days. Motoko came to the conclusion that the Sou would now have to eclipse the Imperial residence itself in order to fit all the things Konno-San had planned for it.
"Is it safe to grow on the land that was once the Forbidden Annex? Way I fig, even if we build on it, no one is gonna wanna stay there, but maybe it's safe to grow vegetables and herbs on. Unless, ya know, we're gonna end up with one of those Mushi-Shi things where the broccoli rots out your insides and the carrots replace your eyes."
The samurai allowed her tea to cool a bit before placing it in her thermos.
"Mutsumi might be better able to answer that. I will ask Tsuruko to consult with Aoyoma clan elders. But I have to believe that since it is destroyed and we all live and thrive—it's probably safe to grow there. There might even be herbs known for their spiritual cleansing qualities. They might be an idea to plant first."
Mitsu circled one of her scribbled paragraphs with a satisfied smile.
"Great! First year or so, it'll just supplement what we use in the kitchen. Next couple, maybe it can replace all but the most specialized goods. After that, who knows? Fresh veggies and herb tea at the Tea Room?"
Motoko strained to remember that, only a few months before, Mitsune Konno only recognized one Six O'Clock per day, and the AM was not that one.
"A dream to be sure, Ki—Mitsu. May I ask a question?"
"Sure."
Motoko knew this would not go over well, but the question was now irresistible.
"Who are you? You barely drink, you hardly sleep, and you are focused like my blade on Kei's peeping neck that first night."
Mitsu got up in a huff.
"Another one."
Motoko stopped her.
"Please. I meant no harm."
"No harm? What, you want me to be the pain in the ass that you were ready to gut like Kei Nii-San, again on that first night—only with me it was less than a month ago?"
Motoko sat her back down.
"Everyone including me is impressed with the change in you. Kei certainly is. We've just become concerned for you. Your pace is frantic."
The new Ryobo's eyes lit up.
"Bro said that? About me?"
Motoko smiled a reassuring smile.
"I asked him to chain you down. He responded that, even if he could catch you, what chain could hold our Ryobo-Dynamo?"
Motoko swore she saw Mitsu choke back tears. She raised a finger in the air in declaration.
"Then there's no way I can let up! My Bro has begun to take me seriously. His Onee-Chan will not fail him again."
"Errr—how exactly have you failed him in the past-and isn't he older than-"
Mitsu cut her off with a glare.
"Naru won. Mutsumi never played for real. Su is too unreal, God love her. That leaves you and Shinobu. She was too nervous, just like the other night. You shifted gears too late. But at least all of you had the option of playing. I never did, because I was Kitsune, loose trou and damned near everything else, and he never took me seriously. This is my chance to change that, and I am not letting up. Ryobo is a bottle I will never empty, but I intend to try and try till Kei sees in me what he sees in all of you."
"What then, Mitsu? He has made his choice, and I could not bring myself to challenge it again."
She waved her hand dismissively.
"Who said anything about that crap? I mean, aside from the allowable possibility Naru will blow it, maybe I just want to be good enough that, even if he never left her, it could be me. You said it right? He's our journey."
Motoko would that morning best Keitaro as usual. This fight, though, was not to be hers.
"You are a fool. He loves you already as deeply as he is able. When he struck you by accident, he was nearly crushed by pain. He…"
When Mitsu glared again, Motoko swore she heard the sound of thunder in the distance. Konno-San's hidden heritage was asserting itself, and it would do so more and more in the coming months.
"You have sparring matches, and Naru bumps uglies with him like 24/7. Mutsumi is still like his playmate-small P-mostly. Su thinks you and him are these founts of wisdom. Him and Shinobu can't seem to decide if they're friendly exes or father and daughter. All I have is the respect he grants me for improving the home with our grandmother's beloved name. His simple love is not enough. I may never own his whole heart, but I will hold a niche within it that is mine and mine alone. Now, tomorrow-we'll have to discuss you giving up that rooftop area for the summer. The guests will eat up the view."
Pursuing Mutsumi's take on the new garden's spiritual safety, Mitsu then left a very concerned Motoko alone.
JOURNAL
If I ever told my past self that the calmest part of my day would be spent deliberately baiting Keitaro to defeat me and steal my robes-no, I could never have told the fragile thing that.
He has begun to move into his own. Before, I merely wondered what he would be like if his nerves stopped ruling him. Now, short of shutting his emotions off entirely, only practice could make him any better. I feel challenged by his growth—and it is a good challenge.
Mitsu says I shifted from purest hate to love too late to 'win'. But it is not that I must soon discuss with Kei. It is the over-drive effort that almost claimed Shinobu, and that seems to have claimed Mitsu outright. I fear it may be pushing us all past our limits, even to him and Naru. Is even Todai worth it if we are all too tired to so much as raise a glass each time one of us gets in?
Again, though I am rarely struck by his practice staff, I am often struck by how my feelings have shifted, not merely from hate to love, but from love to not knowing exactly what I would do without him. His influence with our two youngest residents alone makes him invaluable.
His worth to me, as I so recently sat naked and shattered by Su's anger, goes somewhat beyond that.
"You continue to evade well, but your strikes back lack force and follow-through!"
"Gimme time, Motoko—it wasn't so long ago I wasn't evading even your most obvious feints."
Keitaro allowed a weaker strike at his ankles in order to stop the bokken's upward motion, then brought his staff uncomfortably close to Motoko's chin. When this back-and-forth settled into a pattern, the two began to chat.
"It is a brilliant invention."
"Her most brilliant. Hands down."
Motoko did not allow her fretting to get in the way of her attacks, and on more occasions than she cared to admit, her defense.
"Must we ask her to destroy it?"
Keitaro was nowhere near as adept at keeping his chat separate, but it did not wholly disable him either.
"You already know the answer to that. Suppose it had been Russian ships that forced Japan into international trade, back last century or so?"
"What—would have been the difference?"
Keitaro's answer was snarky but not contemptuous.
"I dunno. Maybe nothing at all. Do you want to find out? Would saving Yamamoto-Dono have shortened or lengthened the Pacific War? Would he have urged the Emperor to surrender after the first bomb fell on Hiroshima? Or go across the sea—the Americans take Canada in the War Of 1812, or the British take them back. Stop the Crusades? Make sure the Mongols never rise? Even something silly like stopping Superman's creators from making him."
"That one—fails me entirely."
Keitaro kept her staff back from him with his own as he kept on.
"In 1942, Fleischer Studios of Popeye fame made a series of well-regarded shorts based on Superman. Their style and beauty were said to directly inspire many of the great mangaka, even perhaps the manga art form itself. Now, art forms or breakthroughs can exist without this or that inspiration, but that's an equation I do not like to contemplate."
Motoko saw her opening to end the battle, and began to build towards it.
"It is difficult to imagine our existence without manga. Though the anime adaptations often leave something to be desired."
JOURNAL
Enough physical contact occurred between us that the Motoko of times past would have been obliged to avenge herself upon Kei. Now, I am at least honest enough to admit that what contact there was left me wanting more. Poor Shinobu—I understand her fervor to move past him even better than I let on. I just don't know that it's possible this soon—besides which, I don't have an Arlo.
Naru is kind enough to take part of one of her only free and clear days off and help me as I prepare for the entrance exam to Todai. Kei made his lie real, Naru made her failure right, and Mutsumi eventually remembered to put her name down on the exam. Tsuruko made it clear that my next such lie will see my beheading preceded by becoming a 'bride of the sword'.
So I'm studying, I'm studying.
"The rules of math don't change, Motoko. The most complex possible equation—that someone besides a computer can handle- must still obey rules the same as two plus two does."
Motoko checked over her work.
"Try telling that to my answers."
Naru corrected both those answers and Motoko's work with an ease that told the samurai part of the reason Kei had been intimidated by Narusegawa.
"You're as bad as Shinobu—I mean building all this up in your head till it scares your robes off."
"She takes after her sempais. Huh—perhaps I should ask Su for help with the Sciences."
"Not-a great idea."
Motoko looked badly confused.
"That makes no sense. She is a brilliant inventor. She just created a device that most physicists say cannot ever exist."
"Yeah, but most of her inventions are instinctive. She can build a machine that costumes all of us faster than she could ever explain how she did it—let alone in terms someone who was not her peer could ever hope to understand. Even Mutsumi can barely hope to read the condensed version of what Su would have to say. Add to that, she uses a model of physics that, even if we understood it, trying to use it in a standard or advanced Physics class like that in Todai or other top places would get you tossed out by professors who do *not* like to be challenged."
Motoko laughed lightly.
"Yet this is the same girl who will not make the connection between her newly beloved Chili-Cheese Fries and subsequent trips to the bathroom."
Naru laughed a bit as well.
"Nobody's perfect. Oh—and Kei and I agreed to let Shinobu off the hook like you said. Poor kid. Her nerves aside, that really was a hell of an evening."
They both stood up together, fingers raised in the air, and spoke as one.
"For I am Kenichi, of Class 7-5!"
Laughing a bit louder, they sat back down. Motoko broached a tender subject.
"Shinobu is trying her best to move past Kei—for that at least she has my admiration. Naru? What would you do if-if it were you who had to move past him?"
"I don't know that I-I can't really answer-please don't ask me to-I—I—I…"
Motoko also let her off the proverbial hook.
"Next question, Sensei-Chan?"
Naru resumed breathing.
"Thanks-and thanks. Errr—are you worried about Mitsu?"
"Yes. But it seems that, short of immediately destructive behavior, we have little standing to speak in her eyes. Indeed, how can we assail her for her newfound focus and seriousness?"
Naru closed one book and opened one that dealt with geography and older place-names and border markings. She had never told anyone, even Keitaro, that geography had played a part in her failed first entrance exam.
"She's asked me not to tutor her. She said she has no intention of pursuing Todai till her *work here is done*. I mean, have you seen that note-pile of hers? She's inventing new work as she goes. Maybe—she's pranking us back for being so hard on her last month?"
Motoko felt her eyes begin to blur at seeing all the Russian border changes over the last century, and turned to the section on Southeast Asia instead.
"To what end? If it was debt relief she wanted, we offered her that. Besides, you didn't see the resolve in her eyes. She thinks that our brother does not respect her."
"So tell her he does. Even before we started in, he told me about a few times she stood out in a positive way. She can't use Kei as an excuse to bury herself in her work."
The common thought that they were complaining about a woman who had done exactly what they all demanded of her finally stopped the discussion as the pair turned to fundamentals of biology.
"Endothermic-exothermic-aagggh! Naru, is this trip really necessary?"
"You wanna storm the Red Gate or not?"
Motoko mused in silence that it wasn't just Mitsu yearning for Keitaro's approval. One who already had that beyond dispute (save for one recent night she had made amends for) emerged from the kitchen in his company. Shinobu smiled.
"Sempai and I combined our study session with making these lovely poached eggs."
Naru shook her head, then kissed the girl on the cheek.
"You-have got to stop killing yourself over one bad turn."
Shinobu looked slightly annoyed, but kept this out of her voice.
"It's not killing myself to make nice things for the people I love. Like I said, we combined two tasks in one."
Keitaro put his arm around the girl and squeezed.
"She got every last question I posed right. Even some of the ones I missed on my final try. It may be a few years off, but I say Maehara-Chan here is gonna ace that exam."
The squeeze and the words obviously made Shinobu blush. Moving on, it seemed, was one of those things that seemed fine in concept.
"I-I have to finish Su's eggs. I made them special, by recombining the chili-cheese fries I made her."
Motoko cut a piece of egg and toast, relishing the yolk's runoff.
"I thought that she devoured those fries."
Shinobu shook her head.
"I cut them too thick for her. Same with the chili."
Motoko looked over at Su's room.
"That is ingratitude. It will be addressed."
"Motoko, you mustn't! You know how Su is-like as not she imprinted on chili-cheese fries like Alice-San makes them. She's the same with her preferred brand of instant ramen. She wasn't impolite about it. Please? She's been so good—I mean so much better-lately."
Motoko relented in this, but smiled at a wicked thought.
"Very well, Shin-Chan. You do look well-rested, by the way. But the price for sparing Su my words is that you must give all four of us those fries and eggs—the princess will do just fine with a simple poached egg."
JOURNAL
Auntie Haruka called it for the 'McDonald's Syndrome'. Sarah will reject well-made hand-formed burgers from restaurants in favor of the golden arches'-I can only call it product. Similarly, Su rejected Shinobu's steak-fries, multi-bean chili and aged cheese in favor of what, apologies to Arlo-San's mother, cannot be anywhere near as good, being the product of a chain's recipe rather than the love of a young girl eager to please her friends.
Still, while Kaolla Su's taste in food may not synch up, her manners are at last showing direct signs of her innate sweetness. She would never have insulted Shinobu, but there was a time her bluntness might have induced a crying jag in our resident chef.
But it is neither food nor protocol that concerns me as I begin today's lesson meant to build a just and proper ruler.
"Today we start with three legendary stalwarts known for their codes of honor. Japan's own Samurai, guided as always by Bushido. The medieval knights of Europe, holding to the code of Chivalry, as laid down by such men as King Arthur. Lastly, the heroic gunslinger of the American West, bringing law and justice to a land untamed and wild. Despite seemingly vast differences, all three of these great and legendary heroes are bound together by codes of conduct. And all these codes possess an identical core."
Su nodded excitedly.
"Honor? Fair play? Heroic sacrifice?"
Motoko shook her head.
"No-the thing that binds all their codes together is that they and the legends surrounding them are complete and utter frauds!"
Motoko felt some unease about the complete truthfulness of her statement, but saw in Kaolla Su's pretty stunned face that it had the desired impact.
"But you follow Bushido!"
Motoko kept to her lesson plan.
"In Japan, the advent of the Shogunate ended long and bloody struggles for power, leaving many Samurai with permanently sheathed swords. In Europe, the strengthening of central monarchs and the failure of the Crusades found many Knights armored against nothing at all. In America, after its Civil War, soldiers on the winning side and soldiers on the losing side sought a West that was open enough for them to run from their war-life—though the natives of those lands doubtless did not welcome this. In all three ages and places, it was found that killers trained, honed and itchy to fight had nothing to do. For all they knew was death and taking what they wanted, from whom they wanted, when they wanted to."
"Couldn't they just arrest them when they did wrong?"
Motoko had been prepared for this.
"How do you arrest heroes? How do you arrest ones so well versed in war? And what if there were another war? It is said that, you, who are on the road, must have a code that you can live by, so to teach the children well."
"Ummm—did Musashi or Shingen say that?"
Motoko blushed a bit, and for a moment evoked the tongue-tied imagery of the man she described as her journey and path.
"No…that was Crosby, Stills, and Nash. After passing the Southern Cross, Grandma sent me one of their CD's. But it has validity, in our quest to investigate and live by a code of honor."
Su shook her head.
"Even if it's a fraud?"
"If a child watching an idealized Western learned not to shoot someone in the back, and the reasons why you should not do so, is this a fraud? If a person struggling with a moral choice takes heart from the example of a Knight of the Round Table, does it matter that Arthur himself was mainly a glorified immigration officer, meant to keep the Saxons out of Britain—a task he failed in? If the final sacrifice is called for, does it matter one whit that Musashi and others wrote of an ideal to be strived for, rather than something that truly exists or once did? For one seeking honor, these lies and frauds are guideposts to lending them truth. It is a hard path to stick to. No corner of the world, especially not the three I mentioned, are free of innocent blood shed by those who by rights should have known better. The struggle is always against that ultimate temptation. Might Makes Right. Because I Can. It's About Power. We take these idealized and sometimes false histories to heart and replace those horrid words with ones like Might For Right, Because I Must, and Let Me Help."
Su seemed to realize something.
"You want me to get rid of my time machine too, don't you? Just like Onii-Chan."
Motoko had actually meant to inspire some thoughts about reforming Molmol's hair-trigger staff of royal guards, whose obnoxious behavior had rubbed even one who loved Su well very badly. But the time-machine was the more pressing concern, so she pursued it instead.
"You must ponder, Princess—what is your device in the hands of those you love and trust—and what might it become in the hands of those you could never extend either to?"
"Motoko, can I ask some questions?"
"Of course."
Su scratched her head for a moment.
"Okay—so what you're saying is, Codes Of Honor are a lot like the Observer Effect, wherein the belief that these heroes of times past watch over you causes you to show self-restraint."
Motoko felt her eyes go wide.
"I…suppose."
Su scribbled some notes.
"Then, on a quantum level, we are trying to disallow for certain negative potential outcomes, in effect having the primary die almost always roll a two, a four or a five, allowing greater flexibility in the allowable outcomes of the roll of the second die, even if simultaneous?"
Motoko recalled an instance two years back when she had seen Keitaro departing Mitsune's room, having heard him futilely try and wake her to collect the rent, only to be set upon sexually, with his body's response to said arousal being evident as he awkwardly left. Motoko had known 'Urashima' was not at fault, but she hit him anyway—perhaps harder than she ever had before or since, and pondered that one day, her karma would have her pay for being knowingly unjust. This felt much like that day.
"Uhhhhhh-one could make such an argument-or supposition-if one wanted to."
Motoko tried to gird herself for the final assault that proved Naru's earlier point about even walking in the same scientific room as Su.
"Okay. But weren't there real mystic samurai, knights and gunslingers? Seta-Sama wrote a book about them, and proved that Arthur was a real king whose kingdom was closer to the stories than not. Sarah gave it to me for last Christmas. He said he even once met a gunslinger who keeps the worlds in balance, just like the artifact he brought back to Molmol does."
JOURNAL
My aim was never to stain Bushido or Chivalry, and where there were moral gunfighters, I would allow for them. My aim had been to show that even where the legend eclipses the fact, the striving is still important.
My aim needs work. We after all dwell in a world of legends made real. I was never so pleased as when Urashima took over for me when I ended the lesson. Kami love her, I almost always learn more teaching Su than she ever takes in from me. For example, I had not known that the artifact that had us all living in such interesting times went by the name The World Rose Of Toudai, and that it 'kept the real from colliding into the unreal'. When Su began to extrapolate from this legend about overlapping quantum universes, this noble warrior found cause to retreat with her tail between her legs.
Apparently, having determined in her way that planting on the site of the former Forbidden Annex posed no threat, Mutsumi had begun to use the cool day to plant some herbs. I decided to aid her as we awaited her brother with the noise-cancelling headphones. While these smells competed with Shinobu's efforts to make deep-fried beer-battered onion rings and fish hash balls, my day took a most interesting turn.
Mutsumi heartily embraced a well-muscled man wearing sunglasses.
"Tohru!"
"Hey, Sis! Still dressing for success I see."
"Oh, stop it you. Do you have them?"
He held up a heavy-looking bag with little effort.
"I wouldn't wear these things in the warmer months. Are the newlyweds that loud?"
Motoko took this moment to speak up.
"They are newly together, though not yet wed, they are exactly that loud."
Tohru Otohime seemed to take in Motoko, until interrupted by the arrival of Keitaro.
"You built a good foundation with her, Aoyoma-Chan, but she still won't budge on the subject of her latest invention….uhhhh!"
Tohru seized and held Keitaro against the outside wall.
"This the lowlife that broke your heart, Sis?"
Mutsumi was the only resident of the Sou never to have struck Keitaro. As she slammed her brother away from him, it was at last confirmed that this was a choice on her part, not an inability.
"This is the man who is my heart, and one of my dearest friends for something like twenty years now. The only reason I don't make a serious effort to have him for my own is that it would hurt my other oldest friend. He is also a brother to me—and he is older than you by three months. Got me?"
A now-sheepish Tohru smiled at Kei.
"Hey, there—Onii-Chan. Howzabout helping your little bro into that onsen? Sis here hits hard."
Never one to resist an opening, Mutsumi pulled Kei into her chest with full force.
"Oh, Kei-Kun knows that!"
If he was able to shrug off all-out beatings, Kei was certainly able to do so with being shoved against a wall. So he guided the dazed Tohru to the onsen, tapping the bamboo pole six times to rouse whoever might be in it already. No one was. A few minutes later, Kei came back in, looking a bit dazed. Motoko saw this, and so left Mutsumi to spot out a new area for more plants.
"Urashima?"
He looked at her a bit vacantly.
"That guy is definitely Mutsumi's brother."
"A bit of an airhead?"
"Kind-of."
"A genius?"
"Can't say."
Motoko shook her head.
"I don't follow you then."
Naru and Mitsune came down the stairs, Naru looking annoyed about the endless stream of suggestions that seemed to be Mitsu's beer substitute these days.
"Don't follow him where?"
"Kei just told me that Mutsumi's brother, out in the onsen right now, is definitely her brother, but said he meant neither in personality nor intelligence. What else is there?"
Naru and Mitsu locked stares on each other, then raced for the onsen door, peering gingerly around the corner. Both women had eyes the size of saucers. Mitsu for her part headed into Kei's old room, and then left with three of his 'special' magazines before heading upstairs to her room. Naru grabbed Kei and whispered to him.
"Now?"
She nodded.
"I'll even cos-play for you. But it has to be now."
The pair ran upstairs. Motoko still felt lost. Shinobu walked past her in a white towel.
"I have supper set aside for easy reheating. Just warn that I'm in here, please?"
"Shinobu…"
Ten seconds later, Shinobu turned around. Her nose was bloody, and her face held a blank look and she muttered one word as she too headed upstairs.
"Kaiju…"
Finally, Motoko looked, and her confusion cleared up. Her vision was another half an hour in doing so.
JOURNAL
I like to think I'm not shallow. I mean, after all, the man I love best of all, mine or not, is hardly an obvious example of manliness.
Then I saw Tohru. All of him. Urashima was right. Apparently, as for the female Otohimes, so for the males in their way. Mutsumi said that, after her brother left, she had to put on the headphones to drown out sounds from all over the Sou. I am embarrassed, but I could I also care less. I have seen something I like, and I will pursue it.
I'm so shallow.
Shinobu for her part ran off to visit Arlo in Su's company, apparently an innocent version of Naru's coping mechanism. Mitsu, her needs taken care of, went right back to her frenzy. Me, I talked to my in-road with this titan.
Mutsumi seemed far more interested in her plants than in talk of her brother.
"I dunno. He seemed to like the place. He remembers coming here once or twice, when we were kids."
"Yes, but-did he mention anything else?"
"Like-what?"
Motoko swallowed her pride, in a bid to perhaps swallow something almost as large.
"Like me?"
Mutsumi frowned.
"Well, yes-but I put him in his place again. He can't say that sort of thing about my friend."
Motoko's heart jumped.
"He said something perverted about me?"
"Ummm-Tohru? Never. He said something about your clothes."
"How—he would like to tear them off of me?"
Mutsumi breathed in.
"Are you sure you're ready for this?"
"After our brother's years of loving perversions? Of course."
Mutsumi raised an eyebrow.
"Okay-he said your clothes looked like Abercrombie & Fitch failed to hold back a wrongly proposed catalog of Faux Kendo Fashion. But really, what does that jerk know about clothes?"
JOURNAL
My words to Su aside, I believe firmly in the tenets of Bushido. Whatever its origins, and whatever sad use the Fascists put it to during the Pacific War, I hold firm to its goals and ideals, for life and for war, and especially for that last measure of a warrior's stand.
But while I plan to always live by Bushido, it is perhaps time I found other clothes to live in.
How does one go about this?
An excited two hours had passed, and Mutsumi's brother had left. Naru was still blushing, and an understanding Keitaro slept on the couch, while a shaken Shinobu and Mitsune each held one of his hands. Su frowned at a missed opportunity, and vowed to get even 'in some forgivable way'.
"Ummm—you want to do what?"
Motoko poured some tea while she and Naru sat in the kitchen.
"I need a new wardrobe. Just-something more casual. Something all my own."
"Motoko-he was just a jerk who won a genetic lottery. To hear Mutsumi tell it, her bro not only has one, he is one. Maybe bigger figuratively than he is literally-though that boggles the mind."
"His lack of manners and couth is not at issue, Narusegawa."
She looked down at the table.
"What I cannot shake is the fact that the first man I have fancied for any reason since I realized Kei would never be mine took one look at me and thought 'fashion nightmare'. It's not just him. At kendo tournaments and exhibitions, other girls arrive and leave in regular garb. I am the only one who arrives and leaves in the same garb she fights in as well. Even Tsuruko has an alternate wardrobe. I think that I might have been trying to out-do her by keeping to warrior garb exclusively. I have also accepted that this is unlikely. Whether as a warrior or a woman-I am a nerd. And unlike you, mine is not a disguise."
Naru took her hand.
"Hey—you and Shin-chan, huh? The Art of Being Needlessly Hard on yourself?"
Motoko grinned slightly.
"I had a dream that Kei and I had married—until Tsuruko quickly claimed him for her own—and by that I mean as both sibling and mate."
"Ouch!"
"Indeed. My subconscious seems to be telling me that I must forge ahead of both my old fears in some fashion, even if I am at peace with them."
Naru smiled.
"Kei will go with you when you shop. Hey! It's only Two right now. You can make a round of some of the shops in the city well before they close."
"You want Kei to come with me?"
Naru winked.
"Of course, silly! You need a guy to shop with you, so you can reject his every last fashion suggestion and get angry when he doesn't answer right. Besides—it's a guy's opinion drove you to this, right?"
JOURNAL
Her logic, had she been using any, would have been irrefutable. Unspoken was my desire to be seen as attractive in Urashima's eyes—though this must have crossed Narusegawa's mind. Kindness or cruelty? With her, I am never quite sure. She is largely a gracious winner, but there are times she does seize the trophy and hold it over our heads—the varying imagery of which makes me smile and blush to contemplate.
As Urashima and I leave, I am almost heartened to see Mitsu still stunned, and for once these days, slothful and inactive. The power of nostalgia.
Keitaro sighed.
"I can only paraphrase what I always tell Naru."
Motoko was wearing one dress, and holding two office-style suits of different colors.
"And that is?"
He forced a smile, drawing on promises his fiancée had made about the coming night's activities.
"You have a butt that cannot, under any circumstances, be made to look anything less than perfection itself—and certainly never fat."
"Urashima—this is no more pleasant for me than it is for you."
"Aoyama-San—be not so sure."
"Haven't you gone clothes-shopping with Shinobu?"
He nodded.
"I go shopping for my clothes—she goes shopping for hers. Shinobu knows that as a man, I have no valuable input to give on this front."
Her eyes turned to pleading.
"Keitaro—I need a guy's opinion."
He rolled his eyes at a woman who once threatened regularly to roll his head.
"The sporty outfit with the beige shorts and cream-colored top. That I could see you looking really good in, when you're not dressed in Kendo garb."
She smiled, grabbed the one he spoke of from the small pile she had gathered, then frowned.
"No! No—this won't do at all. How could you recommend such a thing?"
His head fell forward.
"If I say pink, you say blue. If I say blouse, you say halter. If I say pants, you say skirt. I'd offer to marry you to end this, but it wouldn't, would it?"
She went back to his selection.
"You think I'd look good in this?"
"Yes-but-"
He shrugged.
"That's me. No two guys are gonna dovetail on precisely what makes a woman look good, Motoko."
Motoko put five outfits back, and grabbed three more.
"Narusegawa was wrong. Bringing you here has only made both of us miserable. Urashima, you look like my used body wraps. Go and take a walk."
"Thanks, Motoko. Being here, answering these kinds of questions for anyone but Naru can only get me in-"
During renovation, a large curtain separated the main store from the ladies' changing area. Keitaro chose then to walk straight into it, taking it down entirely. Ladies in varying states of dress and undress made their displeasure known.
"Pervert!"
"Monster!"
"KILL HIM!"
Motoko looked at him.
"You alright?"
Keitaro nodded.
"Yeah, I can handle this. Oh—and the peach one you just picked up is really nice…. WAAAAHHHH!"
She watched him run off at top speed, his enraged 'victims' of all age groups in hot pursuit.
"He's still got it."
Finding three outfits that suited her, Motoko purchased two of each before attempting to depart the store, her large shopping bags held over her back.
"Is he here?"
Motoko shook her head at the gathered women.
"No. I can assure you it was an accident. He is a fool sometimes, but not a monster."
One lady stepped forward with a tape around her waist.
"I wanted to thank him. Chasing him, I went down two sizes!"
Another held up small pieces of paper.
"My indecent exposure netted me the phone numbers of seven men—three of whom are ones I might actually want to see again."
A third raised a finger in the air.
"Most men don't know enough to run when they are in trouble. They stand there and stutter. Tell me-is he spoken for?"
Motoko felt the weight shift in one of her 'bags', which she then knocked against a wall.
"Several times over. After all, we housebroke him."
JOURNAL
I refuse to be surprised by his ability to do such things anymore. I now consider it a sign of normal life. Urashima has served his time. Now the others must critique my new attire—and tell me if they think other men would like it.
Abercrombie my samurai ass.
"You should note—she picked not one thing I liked."
Naru lightly slapped the back of his head.
"That's what you were there for, dummy. Just as the oyster needs that grain of sand to make a pearl, so a girl needs a guy to shop with to focus the choices she's already capable of making."
Su looked puzzled.
"You said it was his punishment for falling asleep after finishing up last night."
While Naru's face turned red, Mitsu held up a notebook. Sadly notable, it was of a different color than the one she had been using—indicating ever more plans for remodeling the Hinata-Sou.
"Speaking of choices, Bro—you and I have some to make. At least some of the contract work I have in mind involves stuff that needs to be done well before winter hits, so we can use the cold season to check on how well they take."
Shinobu seemed excited.
"I don't think I've ever seen Motoko in anything outside of her warrior's outfit—except for the maid outfit when Sempai pulled down her-shutting up."
Mutsumi folded her arms and looked a bit confused.
"Maybe she just doesn't get my brother's taste?"
Naru snickered.
"I think she wants to appeal to that taste…and maybe get a taste to boot. Not that I blame her."
Shinobu gasped to hear this said outright, and Keitaro gave his woman a light glare. Mutsumi seemed to realize something.
"Maybe I should mention something about my brother? I thought you all knew…"
Motoko emerged from Su's room wearing a simple white pants combo, with slightly longer sleeves anticipating the chill weather to come. She stood and almost wished she were truly naked, with only her toned body up for judgment, rather than her taste in clothes on that body.
"Well?"
Small claps from her sisters and a nod from her brother told her this one passed muster. Motoko determined to change this pristine suit before she soiled it. Shinobu turned to Mutsumi.
"I'll bet that gets your brother's attention."
"In as much as anything of that sort can. I really thought it was obvious…"
Cut off once more by Motoko's entrance, this outfit was a navy blue casual with a matching vest and extended skirt, perhaps bespeaking the incident Shinobu had raised only minutes ago.
"If and when I get into Todai, I thought that I might have to impress while seeking an on-campus job. I have no idea if this accomplishes that."
Mutsumi tried to seize the moment.
"I think it's impressive. We all do. But Motoko, to use someone like Tohru as your benchmark is kind of pointless."
"I could tell that."
"You could?"
Mutsumi's hopes were quickly dashed.
"Yes. Your brother lacks manners. But I want an outfit to make him eat his words. To make him regret not even seeing me as an option."
As Motoko left to put on the final suit, Mutsumi openly sighed.
"That's highly unlikely."
Mutsumi was about to try yet again as Motoko emerged, only to be cut off by Keitaro.
"The peach one?"
Motoko smiled.
"It came highly recommended."
Naru shook her head.
"You can't actually choose something a man picks out for you! You've just made my future marriage more difficult!"
Motoko winked at her in a familiar way.
"Yes—yes I have. Now, Mutsumi—when might we see your brother again?"
"Well, we won't see Tohru, but we might see-Motoko, you should know that he only dates from inside the company he works for."
"I do not wish to date him. I will leave that trial to the women in his construction company's front office."
Mutsumi, whatever lacks she may have possessed in catching on to certain things, was in the odd position of being the only one in that room who was not completely clueless.
"There are no women in the company Tohru does work for."
JOURNAL
When interested in someone, it is perhaps wise to ask in advance if this person would be at all interested in return. This does not disturb me, for to hear it told, most men Tohru knows have the same opinion of him most of us quickly developed—some even declaring him intolerable for even a one-nighter, other benefits aside.
I am disturbed by my inability to even see this as a possibility, as the others posited 'clues' they 'should have' picked up on prior to Mutsumi's revelation. I cannot speak to the validity of these 'clues' or the stereotypes they may speak to—because it doesn't matter which angle I approach sex and romance from. The fact is, and the frustrating fact remains, I know nothing of either. Urashima is not to be mine, and the possibilities of Kaolla Su are no possibilities for the potential years I will be her teacher. They are all I know in that light, and my first footstep out the door into the unknown involved getting worked up over a man with a loose mouth and no interest in me whatsoever.
Then again, the man I now hold dear got his start here in a less than stellar way. Perhaps it is merely the way of first steps. Maybe one must play the fool to gain even initial footing.
Very well, Urashima. I will become a fool.
Shinobu handed over her 'badges of office.'
"You sure you want to do this?"
Motoko held the 'Kei' hat and glasses.
"I welcome it. Besides, the exhaustion of the chase may help me sleep better when our pair starts in, headphones or no."
"Then you are tonight's 'Designated Keitaro'. Wear Sempai's name with pride, Motoko-Chan."
Mutsumi walked in.
"Ummm—one set of noise-canceling headphones needed to be replaced. So guess who came by?"
To appearances, the identity of the delivery-person was obvious.
"Tohru?"
"Nah—not my bro. Like he says, he wouldn't be caught dead in anything I wear. His interests aside, I still can't see him denouncing a girl as hot as you, Aoyoma-San."
"This is Koichi, Tohru's twin brother."
Shinobu shook her head.
"Umm, isn't it stretching credulity for him to have a twin like that?"
Motoko glared at the younger girl.
"Perhaps you should ask King Lambda Lu or Nyamo that question."
"Right—got it."
"Shinobu?"
"Hey, I said I got it!"
"No-aren't you having another dinner with Arlo-San in two days?"
Shinobu smiled.
"We sure are. I would ask Otohime-San to join us if he would."
Looking a little shy—and driving Motoko wild in the process—Koichi Otohime shrugged.
"Glad to. But-it's Koi-Chan. Sis had said you were all like sibs here. But I guess I should be straight up-unlike Jerky Tohru and my wonderful Sis—I didn't exactly partake of the family fortune, genetics-wise—if you know what I mean."
Motoko took the next step, for good or ill.
"I cannot think of anything that could matter less to me, as we enjoy good food and the company of those dear to us."
"Great! Listen—Shinobu-Chan—are those onion rings I smell?"
The girl smiled.
"And popcorn fish. The—fish hash balls didn't work out so well. Arlo-San gave me a recipe for horseradish sauce, too. Mutsumi—can your brother stay?"
"Better make him a plate to go, Shin-Chan. He works on-call maintenance for some major buildings in Tokyo, and has to get back."
After Koichi and Shinobu left, Motoko asked a question.
"Why was he so forthcoming about his-shortcoming?"
Mutsumi sighed.
"Poor Koichi has never been able to deal with a simple fact-he does not have the Otohime family endowment. He's tried literally everything to make up the difference. It plays out differently for men and women, of course."
"I-errrr—would imagine."
"Yup. Women in the family excel at the Sciences, and the men at Economics. But Koichi's grades are horrible—no matter how hard he tries. Please don't tease him about it."
Motoko nodded.
"I will concentrate on some other thing, then. So-do you think he'll use the onsen while he's here?"
ATLANTIC CITY, NEW JERSEY
The International Skee-Ball competition was in full swing, and a little dynamo was giving the local champs a run for their money.
For Hinata Urashima, there was a joyful abandon in tossing the balls with a measure of luck and skill, and the variance in the weight of the balls added an extra layer of fun.
When the competition was done with, Hinata roamed the shops along the famed boardwalk and bought the children she loved dearly some gifts. For Kaolla Su, she purchased schematics for a Skee-Ball machine from a vendor, knowing the young sweet genius would relish putting it together. For Naru, she teasingly bought boxing gloves signed by James Braddock, a boxer known for his comeback. The large thick cookbook of Jersey Shore seafood was a natural for Shinobu. For Haruka, a large consignment of salt-water taffy, with some chocolates for Sarah. A video purchased form Ripley's Believe It Or Not museum for Seta. So she went through her list, sometimes extravagant, sometimes understated. As she arranged for shipping, she considered simply spending a week in and around New Jersey, up the Shore and perhaps into Pennsylvania to see Hershey Park.
But she had an itinerary, and as someone who always stuck to their plans once they were made, decided that she would indeed be in New York City two days from then.