Tenchi Muyo Fan Fiction ❯ Cast Seeds ❯ Fertile Soil ( Chapter 4 )

I do not own, in any way shape or form, Tenchi Muyo! Ryo-ohki. But believe me, I would love to, if only that meant that I could wipe from the Earth any traces of the horrible, let me repeat, horrible OVA three.

This work of fiction is based on the OVA series, with the exception of the one mentioned above. All characters and places that do not appear in the Tenchi series, or in real life, belong to me.

Thank you.

 

Section Four: Fertile Soil

 

 

Tei'rn's eyelids fluttered against the light that had suddenly appeared to beat upon his sleeping face. He reached out blindly to pull the curtains that kept out the brightness from the early-rising first sun closed again.

“Up, up! Up brother mine!”

The voice wouldn't leave him alone. At least the light could be ignored, but the constant shouting in one's ear was less easily shut out. He guessed at the owner of the voice's intentions a moment too late to clutch the covers to himself, and they were yanked off of his body, pooling in a soft, and considerably large, lump on the floor.

“Curse you Den'n.” He mumbled loudly. He didn't want to leave his nice bed, the cocoon-like synthetic foam material warmed and molded to his form by the heat of his body, the pillowing extra padding at the head just perfectly mounded in all the right places.

“Pardon? What was that?” His brother gasped. “This is the thanks I get, rousting myself at the wee hours of the morning…”

“Really, you shouldn't have…”

His brother ignored him. “…fending my way through the dark and dangerous streets of the city…”

“You live next door…”

“And all to bring my beloved brother a bit of joy into his dreary, humdrum existence.”

“Why don't you get a wife so you can bother her first thing in the morning. Of course, it's asking a lot of any woman to put up with you.”

“I'm injured. Truly I am.” Den'n responded, his speech now at its end. Tei'rn had heard its like many a time before. He had heard a version when his brother had wanted the last piece of meat at supper and when Den'n wanted his brother to join him at the clubs, a thing Tei'rn detested due to several not-so-great experiences. Times uncountable he had heard it, but he didn't have the heart to deny his brother the enjoyment of his little speeches.

Tei'rn sat up, tucking his hands beneath his arms to preserve some of the warmth his blankets had imparted before they had been pulled away. Den'n tossed him a robe.

“You should be grateful I can stand your ugly mug in the morning, Brother, otherwise no one would ever wake you up.” Den'n said with his trademark broad grin. It was a grin that made one want to smile, to laugh, as though the curve of his lips were imparting some private joke so funny that you just had to join along. Tei'rn resisted the urge and scowled at his fun-loving brother while finding the sleeves of the robe with his just-wakened arms.

“See? Scary.” Den'n grinned even wider even while pretending to flinch away.

Tei'rn stifled a yawn as he rolled out of bed, his feet finding the floor. “So what brings you here, this time?” His hands went to unbind his braid and his brother turned his back. Thankfully he still had some decency.

“I'm taking you to eat.”

“Hmm…” Tei'rn replied, his hands busy smoothing and re-braiding. “I'm afraid you won't find me very palatable.”

“Ah, you're starting to find your sense of humor again. I was afraid it had gone and lost itself.” Den'n stared out the window, where the second sun was just beginning its ascent into the morning sky. “I made a picnic.” He seemed to feel his brother's doubting gaze and correcting himself. “Okay, Pel'ln made a picnic.”

“Alright then, I think we'll survive if he made it.” Tei'rn snorted.

“I haven't poisoned anyone.”

“Recently.”

“It was ten years ago, Tei-tei, let it go.”

“So where are we going on this little picnic?” Tei'rn turned, and the wind from the open window struck his face, promising the heat of the day, though it was still early enough to be cool. His brother looked over his shoulder, his long, elegant fingers brushing a wavy lock of dark indigo hair away from his face. All his siblings had those elegant fingers; dexterous in anything they put their hands to. Den'n had put his to metal crafting, and the items, whatever their intended purpose, were always quite fine. Anything from complex machinery to delicate jewelry could, and often did, emerge from his shop.

“Pulpit Stone,” His brother answered, snugging his light yet covering cloak more securely around his body. Most people wore these whenever they went outside their own residences. The light cloth that draped around the neck and shoulders and fell to the feet in a gentle drop could be pulled over the head against the hot sun and while thin enough to see through was tensile enough to parry a poorly aimed knife thrust. Beneath this garment, Den'n favored a long robe and vest belted and fastened with one of his creations, with his guild medallion hanging from it as well.

Tei'rn hid a yawn behind his hand, making his way to his wardrobe and pulling out a pair of trousers in a light billowy material intended to be tucked into boots and a snug fitting shirt that left his arms bare. He tossed the night robe with pinpoint aim onto his brother's ear then began to dress with mild curses drifting toward his unresponsive brain like quiet and meaningless music. The last thing he did was pull out his own medallion and his long knife, the former pinned to his shirt above his heart and the latter strapped under his right arm.

“Pulpit Stone,” He said finally. “There's hardly room to stand up there, let alone eat.” He swung his own mantle around his bare shoulders.

“We'll manage.” Den'n narrowed his pale blue eyes at him in a mock scowl. “We always do.”

They found the picnic in the kitchen, which was set away from the palace to keep its heat from invading the night-cool halls, along with several other members of the family, most of whom also had the air of being recently awakened.

Of the four siblings, only Ser'da really looked completely rested, but then, he was a soldier and had been one for many years. He was trained to function on little sleep. He could function through pretty much anything, Tei'rn thought privately, with his light green hair perfectly tended just as his wife had arranged it that morning, and his dark violet eyes somewhat bemused but kind. He lifted his hand in greeting, and as his mantle fell back Tei'rn could see that he was already in his armor.

Pel'ln, who had only recently decided that his vocation was to be following in his warrior brother's footsteps, fared somewhat worse, and by the look that he directed at Den'n he had also been subjected to an early wake-up call. He always braided his hair low on his back, and the shorter violet hairs around his face curled with perspiration from working over the stoves. He didn't say anything, though he could have a sharp tongue when so desired. Instead he took a plate to each of the figures sitting at the table.

Tei'rn recognized a niece, one of Ser'da's daughters who had been spending more time at the palace now that she had reached womanhood, and a nephew still young enough to be in first school. He knew their names, but found he could not call them up at the moment. There were many of them, after all.

Sitting with them were two more of his siblings, his brother Gil'rn, whose pale gray hair always looked slightly mussed despite his wife's ministrations, and who always had a harried look in his blue eyes, under the left a small red tattoo stood stark against his pale face. He was a good leader, though, no matter his appearance, groomed for the job since he was as young as that nephew who was staring up at Tei'rn with large, worshipful eyes.

Tei'rn patted the boy on the head, trying and wondering why he could not remember his name, and sat beside the last person at the table, who Pel'ln was tending to with a tender attentiveness one would not think to find in him. She sat quietly, the light from the first sun streaming through the window and tinting the hair on her bowed head the color of blood.

“Kist'ry,” He murmured, “Good morning, dear heart.”

She looked at him as though suddenly realizing he was there. Her almost colorless eyes focusing on him with an effort she attempted a smile that died before it came to her lips.

“Hig'nu.” Her pet name for him fell softly in her sweet, clear voice as he lifted his hand and drew his long fingers gently through her short-cropped light purple hair.

“Did you sleep?” He asked, deeply concerned by the dark circles under her eyes and the pinched look to her face.

“I rarely do anymore, my Hig'nu.” She looked down at her plate, but did not touch any of the food. “And I don't feel hungry either.” She told him before he could ask the question.

“You must eat, Sister.” Den'n told her gently, coming up to stand on her other side. All the brothers took great care to look after their sister, they always had, but now she needed it more than ever. Something had died in her when her love had been killed, and she seemed to be putting her toes on the edge of that same path. Though taking her own life was never a thought, it also seemed so for her desire to live.

She covered his hand with her own, and Tei'rn could tell that she wanted to smile at him, to reassure him, but she couldn't quite find it in herself. “Sweet Den'n, if you must worry for anyone, worry for my Hig'nu.”

Den'n and Tei'rn shared confused looks over her head.

“You know I do, Sister dear.” Den'n laughed, straining for some sense of how it once had been, before her grief and strange pronouncements. Her visions had always troubled her, a legacy from her connection with her god, which was stronger than what most women and men had. She had taken to sharing them more often in recent times, as though it didn't really matter what they told anymore. And unless she was holding something back, she had seen no visions of the future that were not about Tei'rn, and only him.

“More than I would like, actually.” Tei'rn kissed her cheek.

“You two should go.” Gil'rn said as he helped cut the young one's meat, Kit'ak, Tei'rn saw, and smelled. “Pulpit Stone, isn't it? It'll be too hot to stand soon.”

Kist'ry's eyes snapped up to fasten on her eldest brother, as though he had said something other than that rather ordinary and really unnecessary bit of advice. Her gaze was focused and intense, and all but the young girl and boy at the table noticed this. Even Ser'da looked mildly concerned.

But all she said was, “It'll always be there,” before Den'n and Tei'rn kissed her farewell, took the round container with their picnic and made their way out into the warmth of the early morning.

“Phew.” Den'n said explosively as they left the cool cave of the kitchen and stepped out into the sun, “Hot already, seems to get more so day by day.”

“Hotter earlier and longer into the night.” Tei'rn said quietly, looking away down the twisted streets of the city. “I do not like it.”

“I can guarantee you that no one likes it, brother.”

“No, that's not exactly…” Tei'rn trailed off. “Ah!” The note in his voice changed. “Good morning little ones.” He ignored the questioning look on his brother's face as he moved swiftly to the curb of a large, rundown building. Smiling, he attended to a small group of neatly-braided children swathed in patchwork mantles.

“Good morning, Chandir!” They chorused, delighted as always to have THE Chandir speak to them.

“Will you play us a song this morning, Chandir? Please, please.” Asked one little child so swathed in clothing that its gender was indeterminate.

“Ah, I don't know…” Tei'rn told them, pretending to ponder it. “I kind of feel like playing a silly song today, and I don't think you'll want to hear a silly song, serious music lovers that you are.”

“No, no! Do!” They yelped, dancing around him and almost, but not quite daring to tug at his mantle in their eagerness.

Tei'rn shared a glance and a shrug with his brother, who turned his attention to their breakfast basket.

“Well, if you insist.” They chorused that they really did, which prompted him into a laugh. “Alright, alright.” They stepped back when he reached into his mantle and brought out the wind-player. As always, their awe at the sight of the instrument momentarily overcame their exuberance and learned familiarity with the Chandir. “Now, where did those smiles go? Let's see if this will help.” He began to play, a merry, rollicking tune that had them dancing within a few measures. He joined them for a few steps, prompting his brother to set down the basket and join in, taking one child's hands in his and coaxing her to show him how the dance was done.

They liked Chandir's Brother, as they called him, quite a bit, but in their eyes no one could remotely compare to the wonder that was the Chandir. He was the hope for their future. For these children were orphans of war and the building, whose managers luckily cared more for comforting the children than cosmetic appearances, was their home. They filtered in and out, but some had been there for a long time now. The palace funded the institution, and Tei'rn found himself visiting there often in addition to stopping as he passed to entertain the foundlings for a few moments.

Perhaps someday, Tei'rn thought as they clapped and joined hands and twirled, there would be no more wars, no more mothers and fathers dying, and no more need for such institutions. Perhaps, he would help to bring that someday about.

His brought his song to a close, and the children fell silent as a tall, stately woman with dark, almost black hair and eyes the same color exited the building, smiling. A small child, a girl, Tei'rn thought, peered at him from where she was pressed against the woman's side, her large golden eyes round.

“Mat'chi.” Tei'rn greeted her, his ears giving a nervous twitch.

“Good morning, Mat'chi.” He heard Den'n echo behind him.

“Good morning Chandir.” She saluted Tei'rn and nodded at Den'n, as the children clustered around her skirts. “Will you give them your blessing this morning?”

“I keep telling you, Mat'chi…I'm not a priest.” He shifted his feet. Mat'chi made him nervous. There was never anything forward in her demeanor, and she was strikingly attractive, but he always had this feeling when she looked into his eyes that she had plans for she and him. He was rather afraid to hear what those plans might be.

“I know that, Chandir. You are more.”

Behind Tei'rn, Den'n coughed in a poor attempt to cover a laugh. Tei'rn turned slightly to give him the evil eye.

“That aside, I will happily give a blessing of sorts.” He said, turning back and once again being trapped by those hypnotically dark eyes. He lifted his flute to his lips and something deep and rich came forth, not exactly a melody, but something more. It seemed for a moment that a cool wind blew around them. “I think you will find your place more comfortable today, and I will speak to my father about putting a new layer of insulating mixture on the outside.”

“Thank you Chandir.” Mat'chi bowed slightly and saluted him again, fist to lips then heart. “It will be a great relief to us all.” She patted the head of the child clinging to her skirts. Directing her gaze at the small cluster of heads surrounding her she said gently, “Come inside in a moment, will you all? It would be a sin to waste the Chandir's blessing.” Then she turned and walked inside, the child, apparently a recent addition and still not over the shock of losing her only remaining relatives, sticking close to her as though afraid to let her out of sight.

Tei'rn put the wind-player away, using the activity to distract himself from the way Mat'chi's intricate braid swayed across her hips as she walked. He would almost swear she did that on purpose. Meanwhile, Den'n, a smile twitching across his lips as he made no attempt to look away, was distributing something from the basket. He handed one to each child with a smile and a wink. “Give this extra piece to the little gold-eyed one, will you?” He asked of one of the older children. The boy nodded solemnly and went inside, the rest followed after, waving their good-byes over their shoulders before disappearing into the darkness.

“Candy?” Tei'rn asked.

Den'n nodded as he shouldered the basket and continued on. “Those new vitamin enriched ones. I think the nutritionist said that one could live on them for years with few ill effects. Though I suspect that the one in question would have had their fill within a week. They look like bricks to me, but they taste slightly better.”

Tei'rn grunted. This meant of course that he had given the children the really good sort, thankfully. The cheaper kind not only looked like bricks but tasted like them as well.

They walked in silence for a while, and Tei'rn tried to ignore his brother's penetrating looks as he saluted various passerby and well-wishers.

Finally it seemed that Den'n could stand it no longer. “Fine looking woman, that Mat'chi; such dark eyes and hair with that pale skin. Wonderful with children, it may be said with confidence.”

Tei'rn shrugged.

“And she seems to not mind your ugly face.”

Tei'rn snorted. “Try looking in the mirror sometime, Den'n, we look exactly alike.”

Den'n put on a shocked air. “I beg to differ. My handsome countenance is as the light of the moons compared to your ball of dirt for a face. Women fall at my feet, overwhelmed by my radiance.”

“Then they stay down so they don't have to look at you anymore.”

“You're just jealous. And I won't let you change the subject. Mat'chi is a marvelously splendid woman.”

Tei'rn shrugged again. “She…” Den'n waited patiently. “She makes me nervous.”

“An excellent sign, Brother dear,” Den'n laughed a bit too heartily, slapping him on the back.

“Can we talk about something else?”

“No. If not her, then whom would you have take what little space is available in your dark, cold heart?”

Tei'rn paused, for they had reached the outskirts of town and were unlikely to be stopped by any who wished to talk to the Chandir, a thing that also made him nervous. He pondered the question for a moment. “I want a woman as caring as you say mother was,” He swept an arm at the sky, imitating his brother's dramatics. “With eyes that shine as bright as the suns, and hair like the night sky. Who can dance like the wind, and be as clear and clean as pure water, but still burn like the fires at the center of Seta'ka.” He looked at his brother, a small smile gracing his face. “That is what I want.”

“High order.” Den'n answered. “Then do you mind if I take Mat'chi for myself? If she'll look at the mere brother of the Chandir, that is.”

Tei'rn looked at him and found him completely sober. He hadn't thought his brother had feelings for the woman, but he saw them now clearly. Had he been jealous? Had he been afraid that the woman that Tei'rn now saw he very much fancied would look at no one but the one who held the title of Chandir?

“Brother.” He said, clasping his arm. “I wish you nothing but joy.”

Den'n frowned at him for a moment then his sunny expression reappeared. “My thanks. And I wish the same for you, after all…” He leapt forward and caught Tei'rn in a headlock, threatening to upset both them and the basket, “With me looking out for you, even though you're so ugly that women veil their faces when you pass, there could be no other possible outcome!”

“Hrk!”

Den'n released his brother and made a great show of brushing down and straightening his robes. “Now, shall we continue?”

Tei'rn made no attempt at reply, merely following as his brother wended his way towards the narrow promontory, a jaunty spring to his step. Evidently, he took Tei'rn's silence as a sign of his own triumph.

…

“I'm…hot, and tired…” Tei'rn groaned. “Are we at the top yet?”

“Perseverance!” Den'n called back at him, “Our goal is in sight!”

A moment later Den'n had scrambled over the edge and turned to help Tei'rn up. Tei'rn took the proffered hand without protest, allowing his brother to yank him onto the narrow platform.

While under normal circumstances it was not difficult to climb the pocked and broken slightly sloping sides of the shaft of rock that jutted out of the river, the heat and the fact that Tei'rn had drawn the short odds from Den'n and had to carry the basket made it slow going.

As Tei'rn sat on the top catching his breath, his legs dangling over the edge of their precarious perch, he reflected that it might not be a bad idea to take up some of his militaristic exercises again. Although not one man or woman would ever allow the Chandir into battle, maybe he had let himself get a little out of shape after the completion of the requisite training.

He craned his neck to look back over his shoulder at his brother, who was standing on the other side of the small span, looking out. The hot wind tossed his dark hair and his mantle, and Tei'rn briefly amused himself with the thought that perhaps his brother fancied himself another Zei'zon.

He and Kist'ry shared the patronage of that god, the god of wind, who aided those who would allow themselves to see past the moment, like a vision of a pathway of choice to arrive at a certain end, or a piece of jewelry from a hunk of rather ugly metal.

Den'n had once joked that Zei'zon had chosen him because he was secretly his son. Their father, who had been passing by, had been briefly horrified. But he overcame this a moment later to say `Well, it just goes to show, that only a god would be better than me.'

Father was like that.

Tei'rn, as the Chandir, was connected to all of the deities and held them in reverence and affection. He had been taught their secret names, had read the texts hidden from all of those but the highest of the high. He wondered what Den'n would think if he told him that their gods were but four of those numbering in the thousands watching over other worlds, singly, or in groups. He wouldn't, though. He would let Den'n keep that personal love of his god.

“A good view today.” Den'n noted, “It seems like you can see all of Seta'ka from up here.”

Tei'rn looked out, “It's a good place.”

Den'n turned, and Tei'rn could feel him crouch behind him. “You mean, you could do it from here? Right now?”

Another of Den'n's fascinations, one shared, really, by all their people was the rebirth of their planet.

“What I could see, perhaps.” Tei'rn sighed. “Look.” He turned slightly and pointed. Smoke rose from a distant point near the horizon. It was inky black, a smoke of death. “But that is all that would happen to it. The green things would be burnt by our enemies, by us to keep them from being used against us. The wind would carry the choking ash and smoke and soil the water even more. They would try and claim what wasn't burnt, and we would try to drive them back to preserve it.”

“You paint a bleak picture for us all, Brother.” Den'n murmured.

“I've been given dark hues.” Tei'rn reached up and clasped his brother's arm comfortingly. “But that is just now. Father has high hopes for that new peace accord, and then the work really can begin.”

“Yes!” Den'n exclaimed, enthusiasm resumed. “With that new energy source they're working on, we can live peacefully for a while, and let you do your work,” he sat down beside his brother, “Chandir.”

“Augh, don't YOU call me that.” Tei'rn exclaimed, pressing his hands to his ears. “Next thing you know you'll be trying to sing.”

“As always, unappreciative of my dulcet tones.” Den'n pouted as he pulled the picnic basket over and started rummaging through it. “I'd like to hear you sing once, and the very rocks will groan their displeasure.”

“I don't sing, you know that.” Tei'rn said uneasily, taking the food packet that Den'n handed him.

“I know.” Den'n agreed peaceably. “Makes one wonder why.”

“So, tell me about this energy project.” Tei'rn not so deftly changed the subject. “I've heard rumors but nothing concrete.”

Den'n swallowed a bite of food, “Then you know just about as much as I do. Something to do with earth energy, or fire, or something; I guess they're going to test it soon. Mev'ln would know more about it. But then, you two don't exactly talk, do you.”

“No, not really.” Tei'rn took a bite of his own food and stared off into the distance while he chewed. He nearly choked on it when he saw a huge explosion behind some hills. Another followed, then another, coming closer to the city.

He leapt to his feet, windmilling his arms as he nearly went over the edge. He took a step back. “What was that?!”

“Did you wonder?” Den'n asked, still chewing contentedly at his sandwich, “Why we came here on this day?”

“What, what are you talking about?” Tei'rn struggled to keep his feet as a shockwave made the entire pillar shake.

“Kist'ry told me, that it would be the last day that we could come here together.” Den'n took a drink of boiled and filtered water. “She said that the rock would still be here, but there would be no one to stand on it.”

“Den'n!”

“That day, you survived, and I am happy. I was happy that day. I went to talk to Mat'chi. I took her a pretty piece of jewelry, we laughed together.” Den'n looked up at his brother as explosions burst the earth apart around the tower of stone. “Then I came here, and I saw a shooting star, but it was going the wrong way. That was you. I waved, not really knowing why. I said goodbye to the star.”

There was a rush of burning air, and Tei'rn choked. Then there was nothing at all, just he and his brother on the rock, the blackness of space surrounding them.

Den'n stood and faced Tei'rn, who wept unaware of the tears rushing down his face. “Brother. I wish you nothing but joy.” He said, kissing his fist and touching it to Tei'rn's heart.

“Den'n…!” Tei'rn protested.

A shadow had appeared behind Den'n. And then that shadow took the form of a man, unearthly graceful, his nearly black blue hair and eyes almost blending into the space that backed him. Very gently, he wrapped his billowing mantle around Tei'rn's brother.

“See!” Den'n laughed. “We really DO look alike.” Then they vanished and Tei'rn was alone on the pulpit stone.

There was only darkness. A darkness in which only two faint red lights glowed, illuminating a single grieving figure on a solitary pillar of stone.

…

Tei'rn sat up with a gasp. He was frightened, he realized, and disoriented. It had felt so real. How many times had he been awoken in that manner, grumpily opening his eyes to his brother's smiling face, hearing of some adventure planned for the day while the world woke up around them? He rubbed his face, and found wetness on his cheeks.

Since they had started this journey to Ai'ka's home planet, his nights had become more and more restless, the horrible homesickness that he had fought off so diligently as long as he had two shining eyes to keep him home was returning, terribly magnified until he thought he would die from the grief alone. He was having trouble eating, and the dreams were keeping him awake at night. It felt as though he were slowly turning back into the wasted wraith he had been when he had crashed upon the Earth.

He lay back again, staring without his usual appreciation at the wooden ceiling and the greenery tucked here and there in the soft curves, spilling out their freshness into the dark air. His hands plucked distractedly at the blankets, and he glanced briefly at the untouched tray of food on his beside table, finding it as unappetizing as he had earlier, when it was still fresh and hot. It seemed that lately even sugar turned to ashes in his mouth.

Tei'rn gritted his teeth and swung himself out of bed, dumping his blankets onto the floor with little heed. Then he stopped, and looked again at the pile of bedding, reminded of what had woken him so suddenly. That had been his last day, the last time he had spent a morning with his brother, the last time he had climbed the pulpit rock. He could still clearly recall how the early light from the red sun had tinted his sister's short-cropped pale-purple hair.

He crossed to the window, fingering his braid and thinking of that. Kist'ry had cut her hair, as some women and men did when they lost their spouses, as a sign that she would never re-marry. Mev'ln, who had served the earth-god Son'nar, had done the same to indicate his vow to use his life to strive only for the ideals of his god, a life that he refused to ever let be cluttered with the concerns of wife and family.

He leaned against the little window in his small room, pulling his braid over his shoulder so he could look at it. The shifting colors shone dully in the dim light. It would be so easy. A small slash of the sword that Yosho had given him, and that now lay with his tiny bundle of belongings, and he would be bound by a similar vow.

After all, if he didn't have Ayeka, he didn't want anyone.

He had half made up his mind and was turning to retrieve the convenient weapon when it seemed that he heard a small voice in his ear. `Hig'nu, don't give up.'

His shoulders slumped, and he said, “Yes, my sister,” to the darkness without, even while the darkness within grew ever deeper.

He spent the rest of the night staring out the window, his pale face illuminated by the stars, and nothing else.

…

“Aidar? Aidar, are you all right?”

Something shook the Policeman's shoulder and he looked around. Upon seeing Lieutenant Mihoshi's concerned face, he let his own relax into a reassuring smile.

“Oh, good.” Mihoshi said as though he had replied. “You were staring off into space like that, I thought you had seen something.”

Aidar smiled again at her retreating back, affection lighting his dark eyes. She really was a sweet child, he thought, if hopelessly clumsy. He turned off all but the main screens and leaned back with a sigh. He wasn't unaware of her regard for him, but as much as he liked her, he had other responsibilities. He stood, and for a moment his long, dark hair seemed to flow around his shoulders, moving on its own, as though it were being caressed by a soft breeze.

He stretched as he stood, feeling the unfamiliar confines of his form with something like curiosity not un-flavored with a light dislike. He would have rather his physical form were free, as it usually was. But when his cousin had taken physical form as a human, his interest had been piqued, and he chose one of his planets to hail from.

Creating a false back-history, after all, was no problem for a god…

Still, he wondered if he was meddling too much. He wasn't an expert on how the mortal mind worked, and was thus unsure of the effects his touch was having. He at least hoped that the boy found his dreams reassuring, a breath of home from long ago and far away.

Aidar took a note of his disobedient hair, and tamed it with a thought.

“Mihoshi, it's your shift.” He said quietly, though his voice carried to her ears.

Mihoshi bounded out of the quarters a moment later. “I left coffee on the table, Aidar,” She tripped over the threshold, and he deftly caught her, setting her back on her feet and moving a few paces away. “Sorry.” She blushed.

He smiled at her again, blessing his infinite patience.

…

Tei'rn opened his eyes after the golden light deposited him onto the planet that had given Ai'ka birth. It was all so GREEN. Green everywhere he looked, pure water, blue sky, but still that ever-pervasive green of the gigantic trees and vast lawns of verdant grasses. He blinked a few times just to let all that color settle into his skull, and found himself facing two people he'd never met before yet seemed hauntingly familiar. Azusa coughed from beside him, and he looked at the king, just noticing that he was there.

The darker woman perhaps did not know how good his hearing was when she whispered aside to her…sister-wife? But he could hear every word of the exchange.

“A rather colorless young man, I must say.” She murmured.

“He is rather pale,” The fairer one answered, “We must make sure to feed him up, then he'll look healthier.”

The darker one looked askance at the other woman. “Well, that too.”

Azusa gave him a none-too-gentle nudge to incite him to approach the two women.

“My wives. Queen Funaho, and Queen Misaki Jurai.” He said formally.

Tei'rn summoned up what resolve he had and walked forward to greet the two queens. When he had heard that Yo'zo had a different mother than Za'za'mi and Ai'ka, he had assumed that Yo'zo's mother had died, as his had. But it appeared that he had been mistaken.

He stopped when the king did, a few paces away from the women, one dark as Yo'zo, the other with hair the same color as Za'za'mi, and bowed slightly. “Peace to you wives of the king. I am Tei'rn Chandir.” He abbreviated his name for convenience. “I am pleased to meet you and to be made welcome on your beautiful planet.”

The two women seemed to be examining him minutely, from the color-shifting hair on his head, to the translator on his ear, to the tips of his boots. The one called Fu'nho had an inscrutable look on her face, while the one called Miz'ki seemed to be quivering with eagerness to make his acquaintance. He kissed his fist and touched it to his heart, bowing again.

This seemed to burst something in the fairer queen's resolve and she leapt forward. He moved back a step, but was no match for her speed as she embraced him. He could almost swear he heard his ribs creak as her arms tightened by notches. He began to become alarmed, but made no struggle.

“Oh, you poor, dear boy! I can't imagine what it must be like…oh no! I'm sure you don't want to talk about it, but if you ever do, I'm here for you, day or night! Rain or shine, though it usually rains at night, doesn't interfere then with… You're so thin!” She gave him another bone-crunching squeeze and he felt as though his head were going to rattle off his shoulders. “It's terrible! Has my husband been keeping food from you?”

At this she shot the king a look so venomously vile that Tei'rn, still clasped in her arms could feel the sharp edges of it. “No, no…of course he wouldn't do that.” Her mood changed abruptly once again. “Have you been sick, space travel not agree with you? Oh, it must bring back such terrible memories! I'm sorry, please forgive me.”

“Yes, of course.” Tei'rn managed to croak with what breath was left in his lungs.

“I'm so glad! I've been longing to meet you ever since my little Ayeka sent word that you were coming here. How is my little Ayeka? And my little Sasami, she must be a young woman by now!” She sobbed, tears running down her face, “And her mommy is so far away! But here I am talking about my babies to you while you need a decent meal.” She released him momentarily, but even before Tei'rn could take a breath of relief, she shifted her hold and was now practically towing him towards the palace.

He flailed as he tried to gain his feet, his wild silver eyes meeting the dark ones of the other queen. She merely shrugged helplessly and followed the overly affectionate Misaki and her newest hapless victim, leaving Azusa standing on the landing deck, a defeated slump to his shoulders.

…

Kyokki sat up in the darkness of early morning, when the birds were just beginning their first serenade. She rubbed her eyes and looked over at her husband, who she knew would wake in a few moments. Humans were such creatures of habit, she thought affectionately as she lay back down beside him and snuggled against his shoulder.

One thing she couldn't get over was how nice he smelled. It could have just come from regular bathing, but more than that was the scent of him. It delighted her as always as she nuzzled the smooth skin of his neck, taking this momentary respite from how stressful the days had been lately. He smiled in his sleep and turned over, gathering her in his arms as his eyes, the color of rich port wine, opened into hers.

“Good morning, my darling.” She smiled in return. Focusing herself completely upon him, their troubles stayed away a few moments longer. Then the spell was over, and he released her and sat up, running his fingers through his long, black hair. She sat up beside him and they both looked out into the morning. A mutual sigh escaped their lungs. Another day.

Yosho leaned over and gave her a soft morning kiss, then stood, and she sat there a moment more, appreciating the smooth expanse of his back as he dressed. And she wondered, as she had wondered every morning since she had met him, if today was the day. She needed to tell him, she had to. There was no use in putting it off any longer.

She opened her mouth then shut it again, even while chastising herself over her cowardice. But how does one tell her husband that she is a goddess?

…

The door changed subtly, so much so that at first no one really noticed. For more than a year now it had been an ordinary door, leading into nothing more than an ordinary broom closet, filled with boxes, dust, cleaning implements and the occasional spider. Before that it was what it was now, a door to the realm of a genius, a scientific genius to be more specific. To be even more specific, it was now the door onto the laboratory of the self-proclaimed Greatest Scientific Genius in the Universe, Washu Hakubi.

It was Sasami who first noticed the change, though if Mihoshi had been home then in the natural order of things she would have been the one to stumble through, likely breaking something in the process, and generally getting into Washu's, or as she liked to be addressed, Little Washu's, spiky red hair…

Sasami hurriedly put down the broom that she was about to return to its usual place and knocked on the extraordinary door. Then she smiled in delight as Washu's face appeared in the small window and said, “Come in.” The young princess pushed open the door and entered, a smile, which had been noticeably absent from her usually cheerful mien, spread across her face.

“Washuuuuu!” She cried as soon as she saw the diminutive scientist, throwing herself into the other girl's arms. As Sasami was now taller than the perpetual 12-year old, this had the effect of promptly knocking Washu down. Washu chuckled and smoothed the girl's hair as Sasami clung to her and whimpered.

“There, there.” Washu murmured, “Tell me what's wrong. What's been happening since I've been away?”

Then ensued a run-down of all the events of the year, a great deal of the recent events couched in desperate hyperbole and self-recrimination.

The telling took quite a bit of time, and by the end of it the two of them were on the floor sitting face to face. She finally concluded with, “I should have known she had said something like that. She didn't know about the Right of Hospitality, but I think she may of still done it if she did. And I didn't know! I should have said something to him, reversed it, then he wouldn't be gone.” Sasami sighed and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. “And now Ayeka's going around pretending that everything is all right but I can see that she's bleeding inside. It's like she's trying to ignore it until eventually she shrivels up and dies. I can't bear watching it, Washu! I just can't!” then she collapsed in tears onto Washu's lap and the little scientist closed her eyes in thought as she once again comforted the princess as best she could.

Meanwhile, Ayeka was looking over her garden. It looked rather neglected, she thought. But then that could've been because since Tenchi returned she hadn't had as much time to tend to it. Or it could have been because the weather had been so hot and damp lately. Or it could have been because…because of…

A cold hard something clamped down on her insides, and she turned away from the patch of flowers that was rapidly getting overrun with weeds. She just didn't feel like working there anymore. She really couldn't remember what it was she had found so comforting about tending a bunch of plants and watching them flourish under her care.

The elder princess absently rubbed her damp palms on the skirt of her kimono, looking up into the blistering sunlight. It was really too hot to be outside, after all. She wondered where all those cool breezes of earlier in the season had gone to. On Jurai they had weather controls, so it didn't really get too hot or too cold, and it rarely rained during the day unless the technicians wanted it to. She wondered how he liked…how…

There was that cold feeling again.

Ayeka turned on her heel in a jerky, angry movement, striding off toward the lake with the air of one who would not hesitate to barrel right through the first person or thing that got in her way. Wisely, nothing did.

Ryoko watched her from the window, one finger thoughtfully tapping her bottom lip.

“This can't go on…”

It may be noted, at this time, that it was not Ryoko who spoke, it should also be noted that jumping through an open window on the second story of any building is not a good idea. This, however, was what Ryoko did. It was fortunate that she could fly. The oni turned in mid-air and shot a wrathful look at the owner of the voice.

“And when did YOU decide to come back?” She demanded of her `mother'.

Washu leaned out the window, ignoring her. Instead her eyes were on Ayeka, who was standing at the shore of the lake looking out at the water, which had a metallic look in the summer heat.

“Just this morning. And none too soon, it seems.” The diminutive scientist finally replied.

Ryoko phased back through the wall, still glowering at the red-head. “Yeah, now you decide to show up. You've been filled in, I suppose?”

“Sasami told me.” Washu nodded, turning away from the window and fixing her daughter with a measuring stare. “And I see that married life is agreeing with you. You've put on a few pounds.”

“I…I have not!”

“You're pregnant, then?”

“No!” Ryoko was rapidly turning beet red, and Washu could nearly see the steam pouring out of her ears, so she figured it was time to stop.

“Back to the matter at hand,” She continued, turning and walking towards the stairs, letting the seething woman drift in her wake, “I wasn't too surprised to find that he had landed here.”

“You mean that `Tern' guy?” Ryoko shrugged. “I wasn't here, but I guess he hit the mountain dead-on. You can still see the spot…”

“And doesn't that seem odd to you?” Washu commented, “That he would land here, of all the places on Earth?”

“Well, no. That just seems to be the way these things usually work.” Ryoko shrugged.

Washu looked down to the living room, where Tenchi was sitting and talking earnestly to his grandfather. Kyokki was standing behind Yosho, her arms folded as she listened seriously to what the young man was saying. She glanced up just as Washu's feet touched the planks of the first floor.

“Washu,” the woman smiled. “Welcome home. Tenchi was just telling us that you wanted to talk to us all.”

“Yes, I did.” Washu replied as Sasami exited from the kitchen with a tray containing a pot of tea and several cups.

When they were all seated, or standing, or floating as the case may be, Washu took a deep breath. “All right, everyone, I've heard what has been happening while I was away…” Just then there came what could judiciously be called a knock on the door. It was more of a crash, and a moment later Mihoshi almost tumbled in, saved from mashing her face on the floorboards by an expressionless Aidar holding a fistful of the back of her uniform.

“We're back!” She announced with a little wave while righting herself with Aidar's help.

“We see.” Ryoko murmured.

Mihoshi then noticed Washu. “Oh, you're back too! How wonderful!”

“Yes, yes. Hello, Mihoshi.” Washu said tiredly. “Good to see you again, Aidar.” She continued with more feeling. She knew she had him to thank for saving quite a few delicate pieces of equipment in her lab when he had first become Mihoshi's partner.

Aidar bowed, his mouth curling up in the barest of grins.

Then as he straightened, Kyokki caught his eye and jerked her head to the side. He moved to her and they spent a moment in quiet conversation before he bowed to the assembled company again and exited.

After he left Tenchi piped up. “Don't you think he should hear this, too? He is involved.”

“It isn't necessary.” Kyokki told him kindly, resuming her place behind the couch. “If need be, I'll fill him in later. But for right now, we need someone to keep Ayeka occupied.” Tenchi didn't look entirely satisfied but nodded anyways.

“So what are we talking about?” Mihoshi asked as she plopped down on the couch beside Washu.

“Tei'rn.” Sasami said sadly, “And Ayeka.”

“Oh,” for a moment event he exuberant blond looked downcast. It had not failed to escape even her notice that there was something very wrong going on involving those two people.

“Right, then.” Washu continued with an air of someone physically pulling the conversation back on track. “You all know that Tei'rn is from a planet called Seta'ka? A planet that was destroyed about eight years ago?” Everyone nodded. “Well, the reason it took me so long to get back is because the Science Academy invited me to come with them to investigate this phenomena. They had been observing this planet for quite a few years, ever since it became capable of deep space travel. But it was never approached because,” She held up one finger, “Even though they had deep space capable crafts they never went out of their own solar system and,” She held up a second finger, “the reason for this was because they were nearly constantly at war. Chances were any vessel that tried to leave, or enter, the atmosphere would be vaporized without question.”

“I didn't know it was so bad there.” Tenchi said softly.

“There was a brief period of peace about a hundred years ago, but then the fighting started again before they could be approached.” Washu continued. “So since we were curious, we found out what happened.” She paused. “It did have potential, it would've solved a lot of problems if it had worked. But it didn't and the malfunction took the whole planet with it.” She noted Kyokki slowly stiffening, her fingers digging into the couch cushions behind Yosho's shoulders.

“It ended in a storm of fire and earth. They had developed equipment that would enable them to tap into the core of their planet. They needed the energy badly, almost all their other resources were used up and they were too busy fighting to find new ones outside Seta'ka. It backfired.” She looked as though she were itching to explain to them the exact mechanics of said backfire, but restrained herself with an effort. “The core was already…”

“Unstable, it was unstable, and the priests of the fire knew it. But the priests of the earth convinced them that it would be a manageable circumstance.” They all turned to look at Kyokki, whose face was set into tight lines of anger and grief. “We had given them all they needed to save themselves, but they ignored him. Son'nar and that priest of his.” Her voice was leaden.

“Ky'oi.” Yosho whispered. He stood and faced her, his face stern. “It's you, isn't it? I knew it sounded…” He threw up his hands and turned away.

“Yes.” She got up on her knees on the back of the sofa and cautiously laid her hands on his shoulders, leaning her forehead against his warm back. “And I couldn't…forgive me for not telling you. Please.”

The two stayed like that for a long moment, seemingly oblivious to their shocked audience.

“Did you not trust me?” He said grimly. “Did you not think I could handle the fact that you are a…a goddess? Kyokki!” He whirled; catching her as she began to fall forward from the loss of the support his body had given her. She stared up at him, her blue eyes wide and pleading for him to understand, to realize that he too had had secrets to keep, reasons to conceal his true identity. His dark purple eyes stared into hers, accusing, then they softened.

“Did she really say `goddess'?” Tenchi murmured up to Ryoko during the brief silence. His wife nodded.

“Do you still love me?” The red-haired woman asked in a small voice. She had never looked less like a goddess than at that moment. He shook his head while pulling her against him. She relaxed and twined her arms around his back.

“Always.” He whispered into her ear. “But we'll talk more about this later.”

Washu cleared her throat, snapping the others out of their shock, at both the revelation and the scene that had just been played out between their ostensible elders.

“You could've just told them all this, then.” Washu said pointedly.

“A goddess!” Mihoshi squealed. “That's so amazing! Tell me, wh…”

“Mihoshi, don't change the subject.” Yosho chided gently.

“It wasn't necessary.” Kyokki shrugged, glancing at Sasami past Yosho's ear. She had been very still through the whole conversation. “And I didn't want to have to live through the whole thing again.”

“Shall I continue?” Washu asked.

“Please.”

“So in any case, I was quite surprised to find, after much examination of the debris, a faint trail made by one of their ships, heading off into space. It must've been a miracle that it had made it out unscathed. And that made me think that it may have been one person, one whom we had studied extensively. We didn't know his name, never went close enough, but we knew what he was.” She took a sip of her tea. “A planet-builder.”

“A what, now?” Ryoko asked from her beam where she had been pretending to ignore the discourse.

“That was why there was a peace so abruptly about one hundred years ago. He had been born…” She turned to Kyokki. “Do you think you could explain this?”

Kyokki, who had settled comfortably next to Yosho on the couch, her hand in his, sent another glance towards Sasami. She looked back at Washu, “He was the result of a controlled breeding program we, that is the other gods and I, had been cultivating since we first knew that the planet was in trouble. By careful manipulation of the bloodlines -a difficult thing since the Seta'kians rarely married for anything but love, we had to give them little pushes - we were able to produce one being that could wield an ancient instrument called the `Bifuukoe' or the Wind-player. He had inherent power, but in order for it to be wielded properly he had to use the instrument as a channel. You should see what happens when he sings.”

“What happens?” Washu asked curiously, her fingers poised as though to type on an invisible keyboard.

“It creates.” She held her hands out, moving them as though she molded dough between her palms, “The wind-player just uses what it already there, manipulating and purifying, but when he sings, things pop out of nothingness, he could MAKE a whole planet just out of his thoughts. It was a positive fiasco when he was eight years old and they tested him out. You don't want to know what can happen if an eight-year-old's thoughts become reality, believe me. So they told him he should never, ever, sing again. I believe he took that to heart. In fact, I don't think he knows what he can really do if he puts his mind to it.”

“I can see that,” Washu murmured understandingly. Her fingers made a few more ticks on the keyboard that had appeared under them. She didn't think it would be in the best interest for anyone else to know about that either. “So I believed that if anyone could have made it out of there it would've been him. And imagine my surprise when I found the trail making a beeline for these coordinates.” She looked up at Kyokki. “Someone guided him here.”

“Not me.” Kyokki said quietly, “I hadn't known he'd survived until I saw him with my own eyes.” She restrained herself from looking at Sasami with an effort.

“And now he's in the hands of the Juraian empire.” Washu shook her head. “Tsk.”

…

Tei'rn stuck a finger under the collar of his shirt and tugged a bit, trying to adjust it. He didn't mind too terribly the clothing that Miz'ki had picked out for him; they were colorful, at least. He had trouble caring about anything much nowadays, anyway. But what he couldn't understand was why there had to be so many layers to it. He felt confined and restricted by cloth.

He sighed and turned away from the mirror, exiting his rooms and closing the door behind him. The grounds of the royal Juraian university were nearly empty. Most of the students were in their classes or working on projects for their research. He felt himself at loose ends as he wandered down a colonnade. They had talked to him, somewhat, about Seta'ka. But it seemed that they already knew a lot about it. He wondered how that was in a disconnected way.

By the time he reached the end of the line of columns, he could feel himself being followed. He sighed. They were very unobtrusive about it, but there was no way they could expect him to not be aware of his `shadows', guards who followed him wherever he went.

He stopped by an ornamental fountain and stared up at the water that cascaded from the sculpture. It looked a bit like Ayeka, holding a cistern upon her shoulder. Cupped in the other hand was a tiny stone seedling of a tree, perfect in every detail. The `shadows' waited a short distance away.

“Who was she?” He asked them.

To their credit they did not give any hint of discomfiture at his acknowledgement.

“The Great-Grandmother of Emperor Azusa” one replied. He was tall with red hair and violet eyes. He had a pleasant voice. “She had the distinction of uniting the warring regions of Quizkin and Or'ket together under Juraian rule.”

Tei'rn nodded distractedly. “What is your name, guard?”

“Kamidake.” The man replied with a bow.

“I am pleased to meet you, Kamidake.” Tei'rn saluted him while thinking the name sounded a bit familiar. “And thank you.”

“I am grateful for your thanks, but what am I being thanked for?”

“For speaking to me as if I were not an ignorant man.” Tei'rn sighed and turned to him. “I may not know much about the workings of an empire, but that doesn't mean I am incapable of learning. Thank you.”

Kamidake exchanged a glance with the other guard, who was stockier and had silver hair and gray-green eyes. “We regret that you have been made to feel this way.” He hesitated. “If I may suggest, we could show you around and tell you more.”

“Companions rather than shadows?” Tei'rn smiled briefly. “I would like that.”

“Then, Master Tei'rn, may I suggest the atrium first.”

“Lead on, friend Kamidake and friend…?”

“Azaka.” The stockier one answered.

“Friend Azaka, then.” Tei'rn smiled. “Shall we?”

The two exchanged one more glance, and Azaka shrugged and nodded. The two had been partners for a long time, and some thoughts were communicated between them without more than a look. They both thought, looking at Tei'rn eyes when he smiled, that here may be the loneliest man in the universe. And the two of them, being good men, would try to help ease a bit of that loneliness.

“It's this way, Mas…” Kamidake started.

“Just Tei'rn, please.”

“Very well, Tei'rn.”

…

“So what do we do?” asked Mihoshi after they had spoken for a while longer on what having Tei'rn would mean for the Empire of Jurai.

“Good question.” Washu acknowledged.

She looked at Kyokki, who shrugged helplessly, still looking a bit downcast over her confrontation with her husband earlier. Thus Washu's attention was drawn to Yosho, who had walked to the window, thoughtfully looking out at the lake. He was turning something in his hands. Washu looked closer. “Is that what I think it is, Yosho?”

He turned, and now all could see what he had been holding. Sasami gasped and clasped her hands over her mouth. “He…but how…that's…!”

“Yes,” Yosho said sadly. “I found it in his room just this morning.”

“I think…that this may be the key to the answer we were looking for.”

Heads turned to Ryoko, their faces, without exception, questioning.

“It's time,” she continued, “That me and that pampered princess had it out.”

“Oh, dear.” Washu murmured.

…

Tei'rn paused in the hallway outside the dining room of the personal quarters of the royal family. Miz'ki had taken to inviting him over for meals, during which she fussed over him like a mother bird. Raised voices issued forth, and he took a step back, preparing to make a quick exit and come back when they were lowered again. But then his sensitive ears caught Ai'ka's name, and he paused.

“…Get her away from there, right away.” That was Azusa's voice. “Still mooning over the grandson of that good-for-nothing son of mine. But now that that…”

“Nice young man…” He heard Fu'nko say calmly.

“Not the word I was looking for!” Azusa bellowed. “Now that he's here… he was supposed to be sent to the academy, why is he still loitering around the palace? Now even if I bring her home, HE'LL be here, and who knows what fool ideas she'll get.”

“Husband!” Miz'ki interrupted angrily. “I don't care how you feel, but I happen to like him a great deal more than YOUR choices.”

Azusa seemed to backpedal a bit at his queen's tone, “All our children need to be brought under heel, I don't know how they got the idea that they could do as they pleased. What will happen to the empire once I'm gone, that's what I'd like to know, with all my heirs on some backwater planet. Falling in love,” he invested the words with a great deal of scorn, “with completely unsuitable people.”

Tei'rn unfroze himself and walked out of the palace, his feet taking him back to his room, where he went in and shut the door firmly behind him.

His two shadows and companions looked at each other.

“I feel sorry for him.” Kamidake said.

“We really shouldn't get ourselves involved.” Azaka said stoically. “But I agree. I imagine it's hard enough being in a strange place without getting involved in the politics of the royal family.”

“I'm glad I'm just a guard.” Kamidake sighed, leaning on his staff.

“Yes.”

The two of them took up their posts outside their charge's room, and lapsed into silence.

Inside, Tei'rn sat on the edge of the bed and cradled his head in his hands. And he thought longingly of home, and its two scarlet suns.

…

It was dark by the time Ayeka returned to her room that night. Aidar had been unusually talkative that day, and while she enjoyed his company normally she would much rather have been alone. She closed the door and leaned against it with a sigh. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness she noticed something amiss, something with golden glowing eyes. It was sitting on Sasami's futon.

“Ryoko! What are you doing in my room? Leave at once.” She demanded, hitting the switch for the lights with unnecessary force. As they switched on, she noticed that Ryoko was not alone. Tenchi sat beside her, his face serious.

A hundred thoughts raced through Ayeka's mind. Were they here to tell her that they had finally decided that she…? Would she be able to be with Tenchi after all? Strangely, that thought passed through her consciousness with an almost academic air, having no feeling following it up. She frowned.

“Ayeka.” And now Tenchi was standing, looking at her. “We need to talk.”

Ayeka knew that very rarely was anything good ever said after those words were uttered. But this was Tenchi. Even if he said things she didn't want to hear he was still near her, with his kind warm eyes.

“What is it, Tenchi?”

“We,” Ryoko interjected, “Need to talk as well.”

Ayeka scowled at her. “I don't think I need to hear anything you have to say to me.”

“I doubt that.” Ryoko said calmly. “I think you need to hear every single word I say to you. I think you need to actually LISTEN. You seem to have a problem doing that. I don't think you've ever listened to anyone in your entire life, Princess. Well, I think it's time you started.”

Tenchi took over. “Ayeka. I've tried to be kind about this, but I need to just say it out. I chose Ryoko. I choose Ryoko. I'm sorry but she is my wife, and I don't intend to ever, please listen, ever take another. You need to move on.”

“Are you telling me to leave, Tenchi?” Ayeka asked, tears starting to form in her eyes.

“If that's what it takes for you to live your own life, Ayeka. I think that it may be best.” Tenchi walked to the door. “Please, I don't want you to waste your life on me, Ayeka. You deserve better than that.” He walked out, sliding the door shut behind him.

“Tenchi!” Ayeka cried, beginning to rise, to rush to him.

“He won't talk to you if you go after him.” Ryoko's voice stopped her.

She turned, rage coloring her face. “This is all YOUR fault!” She started towards the former pirate, murder in her eyes. Ryoko just sat there, still as calm as she had been.

“Did it hurt?”

Ayeka stopped dead.

“Did it hurt to be told to leave by someone you love?”

“Of course it hurts! What a stupid question.”

“Really, I thought maybe it wouldn't.” Ryoko said nastily. “It certainly seemed that way.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“That Tern guy,” Ryoko continued, examining her nails.

“Te…” Ayeka felt a rush of pain in her stomach at the mention of that name. But that was just because she missed him, as she…had missed Ten…would miss a member of her family. But she hadn't heard his name in so long. She hadn't even thought it because with those thoughts came painful emotions that she couldn't acknowledge.

“I still don't…”

“You really don't, do you.” Ryoko nodded. “Ah, I thought so. You were just leading the poor guy on, huh?” She clapped a companionable hand on Ayeka's shoulder. “Fun, was it?”

“Fun?” Ayeka's hand curled into claws.

“Well, obviously he wasn't up to your caliber. Couldn't even speak right with all those weird clicks. Bet you were laughing at him all that time while making him fall for you.” Ryoko laughed too.

“He…fell for me?” Ayeka whispered, but Ryoko was going on as though she hadn't spoken.

“So how long was it before you got him to sleep with you? He has a nice body for what I've seen of it, except all those scars. But then you'd know more about that… If it weren't for Tenchi, I might've gone after him myself.”

Ayeka blushed despite her growing anger.

“Big hands, small brain. I used to go for guys like that.” Ryoko eyed Ayeka carefully, judging her reactions. “Bet he puts those hands to good use, doesn't he? It's rare to find a man who likes a small-breasted woman, but when they like `em small they REALLY like `em, I bet you know what I mean.”

“I'm afraid I don't!” Ayeka shrieked, “And don't you dare talk about him that way!”

“I bet you used him...ALL of him. Was it nice having someone to kiss... you know.” She winked brazenly. “Put his mouth to good use, eh?”

At that all of Ayeka's self-control, tenuous already, snapped, and she flung herself at the pirate. Ryoko caught her hands as the Princess attempted to pummel her. They were trembling.

“And he's not stupid,” She cried, tears rolling down her face. “He's SMART! And he's really kind! How dare you! How dare you!”

Ryoko rolled, not releasing Ayeka's hands and pinned her to the futon below her. “No princess, how dare YOU.” Ayeka struggled in vain to get loose. “He felt what you did, you know, when you told him to go. Didn't it hurt? Don't you want to scream with it?”

“You're wrong!”

“Am I?”

“Yes,” Ayeka was sobbing now. “How could he have loved me? How could anyone love me? He was better off going before he could find that out.”

“You really believe that?”

Ayeka heaved up and managed to reverse their positions, although she could not break Ryoko's grip on her wrists. She lifted the pirate up a few inches with the force of her fury and slammed her back down against the cushions. “How could I not! Everyone I've ever loved has left me! How could he be any different?”

“So you did love him.” Ryoko said quietly and calmly, “You stupid, arrogant, pampered princess!”

“No, I didn't say that!” Ayeka's tears spattered the other woman's face as she shook her head wildly in denial. “Tenchi! I love Tenchi!”

“You still cling to that, like a baby with its blanket. You're a child, Ayeka.” Ryoko levitated the two of them up and slammed Ayeka against the wall. “But when a small child hurts someone, it's unintentional, they don't know any better.” The words were spoken, fast and hot next to Ayeka's ear. “And they're easily forgiven. But will he forgive you, Ayeka? Do you think he will?”

Ayeka said nothing, her eyes wide and blank as she stared past Ryoko's shoulder.

Ryoko released the princess, watching as she bonelessly slid down the wall to sit sprawled on the floor.

“Tell me, Princess, what you think is most precious to him?” Ryoko asked.

Ayeka whispered something.

“Say it again.” She leaned close and caught the words this time. “His Wind-player?” She reached into her dress and pulled something out, throwing it contemptuously into Ayeka's lap. “Strange you should say that. I would think it was something else.” Then she turned and left Ayeka alone in her room.

Ryoko paused outside the door, running her hands over her cyan hair.

“Ryoko.” Tenchi emerged from the shadows in the hall. “Well?”

“I think it worked.” Ryoko laughed shakily. “Of course, not sure if Ayeka will want to talk to me for a while.”

Tenchi smiled “Sometimes kindness hurts the most.” He took her arm, tucking it into his as they walked down the stairs to where the others were waiting.

…

Tei'rn's door opened just enough to allow someone to dart through, then closed again.

He turned from the mirror where he had been brushing out his hair and saw Misaki leaning against it, panting. He stood up, one hand gathering his hair at the nape of his neck, the other pushing his chair back. “Miz'ki?”

She held up a hand for him to wait, and took a few more deep breaths. Then she straightened. “My husband will be here in a minute. He doesn't look pleased, but I'm not sure what's the matter.”

“Have I done something wrong?”

“Of course not, unless…” She gave Tei'rn a piercing look.

“Yes?”

“Have you gotten one of my daughters with child?!”

“WHAT!” Tei'rn's hands fell limp at his sides as his brain seized up in pure astonishment. His hair fell loose about his shoulders.

“How beautiful!” Misaki chirped, rushing over to him before he could react and stroking her hands down his loose hair as though he were a cat, watching it shift colors under her fingers. “Why on Jurai do you keep it bound?”

Tei'rn twisted loose with a sinuous movement that surprised the queen. “It is…not proper.” He stammered, feeling somewhat violated. He turned his back to hide his blush as he quickly wove his hair into its accustomed plait.

“But why not?” Asked the queen with terrible persistence.

“It is… not something to discuss in front of the opposite gender.” Tei'rn kept his back to her as he edged around the room. “Except one's wife, of course.”

Misaki's face insinuated itself into his horrified vision. “Oh, you can tell me…”

“Shouldn't we be more worried about why your husband is coming here looking unhappy?” He said desperately.

Her arms wrapped around him, squeezing him tight. “Why, we're practically family!” She purred. He gulped, but her arms kept tightening. They were loving pincers, squeezing off all feeling below his ribcage.

“Alright! Alright.” He leaned over and whispered in her ear, blushing furiously the whole time.

Misaki's eyes widened. “Really? That sensitive?”

Tei'rn nodded, wishing he could find a hole to bury himself in.

“And when you…”

“Yes! Please, by all the gods stop talking about it!” He whimpered. He again thought longingly about burial as she started to giggle. And he found himself blessing the relief of angry pounding at his door. He quickly turned his back on the merrily giggling queen and opened the door.

“It's good to see you,” He said with feeling.

This temporarily stopped the emperor in his tracks. Rarely was anyone happy to see him. He checked to make sure that he was still frowning then barged past the young man into his room. Misaki burst into laughter at the sight of him, causing another pause.

“What's so funny?” He demanded, but his queen just shook her head, still chuckling. “This is no laughing matter.” Misaki waved her hand at him helplessly and he gave up. He turned to Tei'rn, who had the oddest look on his face as he listened to the queen. A lot of the steam had gone out of the Emperor by this time, and he was unable to put quite as much menace into his voice as he had intended. “Where is it?”

“Where is what?” Tei'rn asked.

“The Bifuukoe!” Azusa bellowed.

Tei'rn's face froze. “The Wind-player is someplace safe.”

“Don't give me that! I am the emperor and I deman…” He stopped as a hand gripped his arm. He looked down to see his queen's hand. He let his gaze follow up her arm to her face, which was set into a very sweet, very frightening smile. “I mean…I wish that you would kindly tell me where it is.”

“Please.” Misaki said with sweet menace.

“Please.” Azusa said gruffly.

Tei'rn turned away. “What was most precious to me, I left behind on Earth.” He turned again, and Misaki's face softened in sympathy at the look she saw on his face. “The Wind-player is with her.”

…

Ayeka stared at the object Ryoko had tossed in her lap, unable to believe what she was seeing. She reached out a hesitant finger to touch it; then drew back as her fingertip brushed the silky wood. It was real.

“But why, Tern?” She murmured. “Why?”

She picked the Wind-player up, holding it as gently as she would a bird egg or a delicate bloom. Tears again welled in the corners of her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She was unable to stop them as they dampened the skirt of her kimono.

Now what was it he showed her? She moved her hands slightly, there and there, hiccupping through her tears as she remembered the touch of his slender fingers guiding hers what seemed like so long ago.

How could she have been so blind?

She raised the Wind-player to her lips and her note sang, like it did that day, wavering in and out, but true. Then the note changed, drawing on something, and rang out like a bell into the night air. Then more notes joined it, weaving in and out around her note, the sound nearly forming a picture in the air around her head. She opened her eyes wide as the song twined around her mind, singing to her in its own special language.

This was her song. She could see herself in the music. It was so beautiful that she could hardly hear it with her ears, but with her heart instead. The music had color, texture, taste.

This was how he saw her.

As the last note rang out then faded, she knew what she had to do.

…

Washu looked up as her crab-shaped door chime flew through the air past her ear. She turned to see Ayeka standing the doorway. In one hand the princess held the Wind-player, on her face was a look of desperate resolve.

“Washu. I need a ship.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “And a bucket.”

Washu kept her small smile hidden as she turned back to her keyboard, tapping a few more keys before banishing it and standing up. “I'm coming with you.”

It didn't take long for them to get ready to go, which probably would have raised Ayeka's suspicions if she hadn't been so focused on something else. She didn't even raise an eyebrow when Washu collected Sasami, some of the Princess's belongings and the two guardians from the gate, where they had been cultivating a healthy growth of moss. She just waited impatiently on Washu's small ship, hovering over a cask of water and cradling Tei'rn's Wind-player in her arms.

Finally Washu had everything in order and she settled into her chair before the controls. “Ready?” She asked Ayeka, who was sitting beside her beaming sister.

“I am now. I'm finally ready.” She smiled. “Take me to him, Washu.”

Washu nodded, eased the ship out of its hyperspace pocket, and they left Earth behind them.

…

Tei'rn sat silently on the edge of the cistern of the fountain of Ai'ka's ancestor. He stared moodily into the water, watching the reflection of the sun send quivering lines of light dancing beneath the surface. He tried to keep his thoughts off of the king of Jurai, and his demands about the Wind-player. It had been precious to him. There was no doubt about that. But it had still contained something that had belonged to Ai'ka. And if he had it with him, he would have been tempted to listen to the song, and see Ai'ka in the music. It would have driven him mad.

He didn't pay any attention to the quick intake of breath made by Kamidake.

So when he had left behind Ai'ka, he had left behind the music as well. It had been his only choice.

He didn't see the movement behind him as Azaka bowed.

But then, perhaps madness would have been preferable, if it would have driven away this aching loneliness in his soul. When he closed his eyes, he saw her in the darkness behind his eyelids. When he dreamed, it would be of her touch, her voice, just her.

When the hand touched his shoulder he raised his head but did not turn around.

He knew the feel, the weight of that hand. He knew the warmth; he knew the scent of that skin. He blinked a few times to assure himself that he was not still in bed, and dreaming a glorious, but eventually painful dream. His own hand reached up and covered the small delicate one resting on him, making sure it was real.

It did not vanish beneath his fingers. His eyes widened in disbelief, but he was afraid to turn around. He looked into the water once again, and saw two scarlet suns shining up at him past his shoulder.

“Tern.”

He whirled, half-rising, his hand still clutching hers at though it were a lifeline. Without thinking he released her hand and cupped her face in his fingers, examining it minutely. Her hair rested silkily against his palms as he stood there for a long minutes, just absorbing her with his eyes.

“Tern.” The specter said in a voice that had haunted his waking thoughts and sleepless nights.

He opened his mouth, and did not recognize the voice that emerged, squeezed from somewhere deep in his chest. “Ai…”

But then her hands were touching his face, one trailing across his lips to hold his words inside. Then her hands were taking his, and she turned, beckoning him to follow with merely a smile as she led him away.

Tei'rn's two guards watched mutely. Then they looked at each other.

“Shouldn't we follow?” Kamidake asked.

“I'd really rather you didn't.” Came a sweet voice. And it was then that they noticed that Princess Ayeka had not come alone. Another young woman emerged from the shadow between two automated guardians, early models, with a smile and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I'll send Azaka and Kamidake after them.”

“But we're Azaka and Kamidake…” Kamidake mumbled, and Azaka looked at him sharply.

“Really? What a coincidence! But I mean these two.” She nodded at the guardians and they flew off. “They'll make sure that those two are not disturbed.” She smiled brightly once again and Kamidake felt an inexplicable sense of warmth at the sight. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Sir Azaka and Sir Kamidake. But I must go and see my mother about something.” Then she glided off in the direction of the palace.

Azaka sidled over and nudged Kamidake in the ribs, and he looked around as though he had just awoken. The guard blinked his violet eyes, “Did she say mother?” He looked after the young woman.

“I think that was the younger princess.” Azaka said. “She's grown.”

“Yes, yes…” Kamidake gulped. “She has. I think…yes…I think I'd better follow her. You'll look after Tei'rn…Yes…?” He raced after the departing princess without even waiting for an answer, his bright red hair snapping like a flag behind him.

“Ah, youth.” Azaka said glumly as he went in the direction that the guardians had gone, but taking a more staid pace.

…

Azusa walked into his study after yet another frustrating day. The alien boy had been no help at all when he had pressed him again about the whereabouts of the Bifuukoe, saying only that it was with her. And if he meant that it was with his daughter, and if he thought that getting back the Bifuukoe meant getting his daughter as well, then, the boy had another thing coming. That was the last straw. No matter what his wife said he was shipping the boy off to the Academy. He had to put his foot down sometime.

“Well, well, you're finally here.” He heard a voice say behind him. He froze. Then he turned very slowly. There was a child sitting at his desk, flipping through a few of the documents that he had left sitting there. “Very interesting reading you left for me, however. Very interesting indeed.”

“Washu…” He began. He drew himself up. “How dare you break into my office? Those are classified!” He said more forcefully. He strode forward as she stood, slapping the offending file back down onto the desk.

“You shouldn't leave them sitting out, then.” She grinned dangerously. “I had been wondering what you were up to when you stopped pestering me for the techniques to make your own Ryo-ohkis, and I now see why.” She sat back down in his chair and kicked her feet up on the desk, leaving him seething. “Did you really think you could control it?”

He did not answer, making it obvious what he thought.

“It took the gods centuries to create one being that could control it, and you probably assumed you could pick it up and do whatever you wanted with it.” She leaned forward. “You were wrong.”

“It's just a tool.” He scowled. “Anyone can learn to use a tool.”

She laughed but there was little mirth behind it. “You can be a very foolish man.” She smirked. “It takes the two together. The man, and the tool, as you put it.”

“But our research…” He faltered.

“Was faulty.” She patted the file on the desk. “The Bifuukoe is just a key, a funnel for the power contained in the man called Tei'rn. It is special, yes. Perhaps it is even one of a kind. But then so is he.” She stood and walked to the window, lacing her fingers behind her back as she looked out. “A melding of four elements, able to control those elements.” She looked over her shoulder. “The man paints the picture, not the brush that he holds in his hand.”

Washu looked away again. “Such power he has. Did you know that the Bifuukoe is also a limiter…” There was silence behind her, “Yes, I thought not. You have in your hands a man who can terraform planets, but you knew that already. What you didn't know… is that he can create them as well.”

She walked up to Azusa and grinned at him. It held as much warmth as the depths of space. “Such power you could have, but it could also be had by others if you don't act, if you don't make sure that he is irrevocably tied with your empire, faithful to only you. The bond is already there. All you have to do…is nothing.”

“You're telling me to let him have my daughter.” Azusa spluttered. “To have an unknown man eventually be one of the rulers of my empire!”

“But you'll still have a empire to rule, your majesty.” She turned to the door. “Let Ayeka have the boy, and your empire will grow. If you do not.” She smiled in a way that reminded him uncomfortably of Misaki's dire grin. “Well, let's just say I'll watch the proceedings with interest.”

She opened the door, counting under her breath.

“Wait.” Azusa said defeatedly. “About Ayeka…”

“Of course, your majesty.” She said, turning to him again and shutting the door behind her. “I always have time to discuss the princess. She will of course be overjoyed that you approve of her marriage to this powerful man. It's a terrible thing for your own children to hate you, after all.”

“Yes…” He sighed. “A terrible thing…I should, perhaps, speak with her directly. She is here?”

“Oh, yes.” Washu smiled, and this time there was warmth there. “But I think she'll be a bit busy.”

…

Ayeka led Tei'rn into a part of the palace that he had never entered before. He would not remember, being too absorbed in watching the sway of her hair as she led him on, back outside across a garden and finally into a wide room filled with warmth and the smell of soap. She sat him onto a small bench, then went back and closed the door. She stood there for a moment, looking unsure for the first time. Then she came to kneel before him, her hands going to the fastenings of his shirt. Carefully she peeled back the layers of clothing, removing the imprint of Jurai from his shoulders until his scarred torso was bared before her.

He shivered as she pulled the robes from his arms and discarded them in a pile on the floor. But still his eyes never left her. She sat before him, taking his braid and pulling it over his shoulder. Her eyes never leaving his she untied the ribbon that held his hair bound. His eyes widened in shock. Surely she didn't know what she was doing! It was impossible!

“Ai…” He began, but one hand rose delicately and pressed soft fingertips against his lips. He shivered in the grip of pleasure and disbelief as her fingers caressed and unwove his plait. He had to forcibly restrain himself to keep his hands to his sides when she rose on her knees to undo the last bit at the base of his neck, leaning close against his shoulder and filling the air with her sweet scent. His hair, finally loose, flowed over his shoulder and trailed along the floor like a sheet of finest silk, and she seemed to be admiring it, combing her hands through it to work out any tangles.

The sensation was again almost too much for him to bear as he closed his eyes with the pleasure of her hands in his hair. His own hands twitched with the desire to hold her close to him and never let her go again. When he opened his silver eyes again, she was looking at him. Unsure again, she glanced at the cask of water. He smiled and held out his cupped hands.

The princess's eyes brightened and she turned to the small cask that had been placed in the room. She cupped her hands and scooped out the water, holding it to him. She cleared her throat. “This…this water is…it's from the wellspring around my tree. It is royal Jurai water, the p…purest in the universe.” She stuttered nervously.

His eyes locked on her face. She was blushing, a beautiful hue that was a paler version of her eyes. But she did not seem embarrassed, only, perhaps, feeling the same feelings that were coursing through him. Then he leaned forward and drank deeply from the water cupped in her hands. It was sweeter than wine and as pure as starlight. He leaned back again and nodded, his silver eyes soft upon her bent head as she sighed in relief.

Then Ayeka washed his hair, with careful, gentle hands. She did not seem to mind when the front of her dress became soaked with the water, or when she got a dash of bubbles on her cheek. She washed and rinsed and rinsed again, using all the water from the cask that she had brought from her own tree. His skin prickled at the coldness of the water as it dripped down his shoulders and his back, wetting the trousers she had not been brave enough to remove from him. Finally she was done.

She dried his iridescent and shining hair with the soft towels that had been stacked nearby, making sure it was completely dry before she bound it up again, her fingers weaving as she bit her lip in concentration. He watched her expression and could not help chuckling at the focus in her eyes.

She leaned back on her heels, waiting anxiously.

Tei'rn straightened up, stretching the cramped muscles in his back, it took a long time to wash as much hair as he had, stood and walked to a mirror to examine her handiwork. He did not glance back at her face, part of the tradition. You could not let the other person know what you thought until the waiting period was over.

He examined himself in the mirror, turning his head this way and that, then pulling the long plait over his shoulder to judge the evenness of the braid. The style she had used was rather more intricate than he could have managed on his own, with two thick strands left unbraided in front, but then looped back around his ears and joined with the rest of his mass of hair at the nape of his neck.

He turned, face serious, as she rose, nervously wringing her hands in front of the soaked bodice of her robes. “Tern, one thing I couldn't find out…” He walked towards her, stopping a few inches away, staring, silent. She seemed to be having difficulty finding breath to speak as she looked at him. “Tern, how long is the waiting period?”

He looked thoughtfully at her pale face. Her crimson eyes had tears at the corner. “It depends,” He said softly. His hand stroked her flushed cheek. “I would say, in this case…perhaps, five seconds.”

He smiled. And her face lit up with joy in reply. And they counted together. “Five, four, three, two, one.”

Then he kissed her, and in that kiss all the passion that he had held to himself all the days that he had loved her made itself known.

She lowered her face and wept, whispering, “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Tern,” into the pale skin of his chest, and he wiped away her tears before kissing her again, and again, his arms pulling her so close that they could feel their hearts begin to beat the same, and that was fast.

“Ai'ka.” He whispered against the soft skin of her neck. “I love you.”

She smiled as she pressed her cheek against his hair. “Tern, how would I say that to you, in your language?”

He drew back, his fingers still tangled in the ponytails that hung down her back, “You would say, Tei'rn, mo const'ra ho.”

She leaned in, until her lips were a mere centimeters away from his, and his world was filled with the twin suns of her eyes as she repeated, “Tern, mo consta ho.”

It wasn't exactly right, but it was perfect. He smiled before she claimed his lips with her own, turning his affectionate amusement into something deeper.

“Ai'ka…” He said thickly after a moment that seemed like an eternity. “I think perhaps that…it is unwise, for my wife to stand around in soaked clothing. I would not want her to catch cold.”

Ayeka blushed rosily, but her smile was inviting. “I would listen to the advice of my husband. Help me with these fastenings, would you?”

They both grinned at each other, then laughed as he hastened to comply.

…

They stood in the place between, not speaking as the flickering of realities began again around them.

Kyokki laughed, “That was about enough of that, we must let our children have their privacy.” She flopped down in midair, hugging herself with happiness.

Zeishon settled beside her, chuckling to himself as well as his dark blue tresses whipped around him. “So, what now, cousin?” He asked in his soft voice.

“That's more of something for you to think about than me.” She ran her hands through her hair, “I go home, and live with my husband. And I will be as normal as I can be.”

“And you finally told him?” Came a deeper voice, and Sonnar stepped into view. “Told that human of yours what you are?”

Kyokki laughed and lifted her foot to poke her serious cousin in the ribs with her toes. “I did. And `that human' took it very well.”

“He did seem rather…jaunty the past few days.” Zeishon murmured.

“Proud of himself for snaring a goddess…after he got over the shock.” Kyokki agreed with a fond smile. “He'll be impossible to live with for a while.” She turned to Zeishon. “But you didn't say what you were going to do now. Are you going to stay on with the Galaxy Police?”

Zeishon looked away for a moment, his face thoughtful in the lights of flickering life that surrounded them. “No…I think I've had enough of mortal life,” He said finally. “I will just fade from sight and go back to watching over my worlds.” He shrugged his shoulders fretfully. “I don't know how you can stand to be so confined.”

“Life doesn't last forever, cousin.” Kyokki smiled sadly. “One day I will go my way again.”

“Like a fire burning in the high-grass.” Sonnar murmured. He stretched his massive arms, strong as the elements that he represented. “I can't say that all did not turn out well, better than I expected it to.”

Kyokki looked at him. “I know you meant well when you did what you did on Seta'ka, and it wouldn't have been long before the planet destroyed itself anyways, but I cannot say I have quite forgiven you.”

Sonnar looked a bit taken aback. “You never said…”

“No, because you can't change what happened. And I am happy that those two have found each other nonetheless.” She stood from her perch in the air. “Now, I am ready to go home.”

“Wait.” Tsunami materialized out of the air. “I have only managed to break away for a moment.” She spun happily, her robes twirling in the air. “Such happiness I never experienced before taking this form. I wanted to see you once more before I go back.”

“Yes,” Zeishon said. “It may be a while before we are together again.” He smiled faintly. “Barring crisis, of course. Will you be staying on Jurai, then?” He asked the blue-tressed goddess.

“For a while.” She walked up to the wind god and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Will you let Mihoshi remember you?” She asked, settling back down onto her heels.

Zeishon didn't smile. “I think I will be transferred somewhere far away. I will say goodbye.”

“I'm glad, cousin.” She told him as Zeishon faded from view, going back to real space and to do what he needed.

Then she turned to Kyokki and the two goddesses embraced.

“I will see you when you come back to Earth, if you come back. Yosho doesn't like to leave it, so I doubt we'll come to Jurai.” Kyokki told her, smoothing her hair.

“At the very least, I will visit,” Tsunami promised. “There may be something to hold me here, though.”

“Oh?” Kyokki asked curiously.

Tsunami smiled, a little wickedly. “Something tall with long red hair and very pretty violet eyes. He seems quite taken with me.”

Kyokki laughed. “How wonderful for you! I wish you luck. Bring him to visit us when you come.” Then, with a final wave, she too faded away.

Tsunami looked over at Sonnar. “Are you still angry with me?”

He shook his head. “No, not anymore. I suppose I wasn't too angry to begin with, just annoyed.”

“We couldn't have saved your priest, you know.” She reached out and touched the broad earth-colored arm of her cousin.

“Yes, I must learn to bear Mev'ln's loss.” Sonnar looked away from Tsunami's gently commiserating eyes. “Our fiery cousin urged me to go among mortals, but I am not prepared to do so again.”

“She didn't know about…”

“No, and I ask that you do not tell her.” Sonnar shrugged again, then looked at Tsunami and smiled bleakly. “Until we meet again, cousin.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek then he was gone.

“Yes, cousin.” She murmured sadly. “Goodbye.” And she too returned to her own reality.

…

The midday sun shone down on the guard, and he raised a hand to shade his eyes from the glare. He judged the time from its position. It had been four hours since his partner ran off and left him with the job of guarding their guest. He didn't blame him too much. If he had been a few hundred years younger, and his wife hadn't been so good with a butcher knife, he would have found the young princess irresistible as well. As it was, he was feeling his years more than ever right at the moment.

“Youth is wasted on the young, you know.”

“Indeed.”

“That is quite true.”

He shifted his position, depending on the strength of his staff key to take some of his weight. At least in another hour or so the trees would be blocking the sun again and he could take advantage of the shade. He was doubtful that he would have reason to leave this spot in quite a while.

As it was, he had already changed his position from right in front of the door to the other side of one of the guardians. He had had no idea that doors on Jurai were so thin. It would make him more cautious in the future when he was spending time with his wife. He had caught the words `Really? That sensitive?' And then a burst of masculine and feminine laughter intermingling until the two voices trailed off into a purposeful silence. He had quickly moved away from the door at that point.

He supposed that he should have put a stop to this. The emperor would not be happy at all if he came to learn that Azaka had done nothing but guard his daughter's assignation with the stranger. But Azaka took orders from Misaki, who had told him that if Tei'rn were to acquire a `lady-friend' that he should not interfere. She felt it would be good for him.

So Azaka had not weighed his options for very long on the walk over to the bathhouse before coming down on Misaki's side. Of course, by then he had no idea what he was walking into, and he feared Misaki's wrath much more than he did Emperor Azusa's.

He checked the sun again; then looked around the wooden guardian called Kamidake. The door remained firmly closed, and he had no intentions of listening at it to see what was going on. He could already hear a few muffled sounds that made his ears go red. He had taken to humming old Juraian folksongs to drown them out.

“They are certainly energetic.” He sighed, leaning upon his staff once again and staring off into space.

“They are indeed.” The guardian Kamidake agreed.

“Stamina worthy of the royal line,” guardian Azaka chimed in.

Azaka sighed again. “I suppose it could be worse. At least it's not too hot.”

“Yes,” guardian Azaka said.

“It's such lovely spring-like weather.” Guardian Kamidake agreed.

“Another beautiful day.” Both Azakas intoned together.

Azaka turned his face to the sky, and smiled. “But it sounds like they're having a lot more fun than we are.” He laughed and the two guardians joined in as their mirth rang out into the sky.

 

The End

 

Author's notes and acknowledgements:

Well, it's been a good run. I have enjoyed writing Tenchi fanfiction these, oh my, is it five years now? It may be longer. Who keeps track anyways. But Tenchi led me into my love of anime and all led me to meet all my friends in the fanficcing world, and I still am grateful for that. But this is my last Tenchi fanfic. Done. Over. Other fanfics, and new and original worlds await.

But before I sign off on this, I need to thank all my buddies who pre-read and gave me ideas, Jocko, my primary beta, Peorth, my beta beta, and everyone else I've persuaded to give me their opinion on ideas that I had. Thanks guys.

And thank you to all the readers who came back to read this final installment, and those who will read this for the first time when I post this.

See you in the next universe.

Kyokki.