Consequences, or, What Tenchi did next (Obscure joke alert: there was a book called "What Treasure did next", a follow up by Gina Davidson to her collection of writings about her daughter's activities originally published in the Guardian, and simply known as "Treasure") Written by Scribbler (scribbler@phlebas.demon.co.uk) and Ty Kalos (ryokos.acolyte@btinternet.com) Based on Tenchi Muyo, which is copyrighted by AIC and Pioneer. Please don't sue us. Thanks to Leon-san for proof-reading. This takes place after OAV #13 and Video Picture Book, and disregards Manatsu no Eve. Standard age-of-majority disclaimers apply: do not read if you are under the age at which it is legally permissible to read adult material in your jurisdiction. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter One The first evening meal they shared didn't go too badly. Apart from the headache. They sat at the table, all except Washu, whose initial curiosity had worn off as soon as she'd woken and she'd found something else to do, Yosho, who was too busy sulking in the shrine, and Mihoshi, thankfully out on patrol. Finding out that the First Tree of Jurai had assimilated with a little girl was bad enough for D'Sel, but it was seeing them in the same place - at the same time - that gave him the serious headache. So he just kept his eyes above Sasami's head, and the pain dulled to barely more than a low throb. His tree kept trying to get him to genuflect to Tsunami, but he ignored it and concentrated on his food. With a brief lurch of his stomach he realised that he'd lost something important. "What's wrong, D'Sel?" asked Tenchi as D'Sel frantically patted his clothing everywhere. "I can't find my chopsticks." Tenchi looked puzzled for a moment, then held his over. "Here, have mine. I'll get another pair." D'Sel stared at him, then blushed. "I did what I did with Yosho. That doesn't mean I want it to happen again." They stared at him. "I mean, you're very nice and quite handsome, but…" He stopped. He slapped himself. "Forget what I said," and he took the chopsticks from Tenchi's outstretched hand. He wasn't on Naria. Offering of chopsticks to another Narian was tantamount to screaming "I want you!" from the topmost branches of the forest, and D'Sel wasn't particularly inclined towards men. But in spite of his faux pas, D'Sel still managed to do most of the talking during the meal. He had been out most of the day getting a feel for the lie of the land, a habit he was quite proud of, but it meant that he'd barely spoken to anyone apart from his own tree. The conversation with it was good but it palled after a while, as it tends to when conducted over several hundred light years. Seized by some strange need to talk, he held forth on Naria, its mores, its history and its relations with Jurai while everyone munched, rapt in their attention. He hadn't had an audience this good in ages. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The politics of Jurai had always resembled a tank of angry and hungry piranha fish. Each of the many noble families vied with each other for the favour of the Emperor, and thus their power at court. Deaths of various family members by poisoning were a regular occurrence as each of the houses sought to destroy the other. Eventually, though, even some Juraians tired of this. Eight families took their ships, found a system with two habitable planets - heavily forested ones - and settled. They were granted sovereignty over their new home by the Crown on one condition: that they neither own nor captain ships of any description. They planted the spacetrees that had carried them thus burning their bridges, and managed to cross-pollinate their trees with the native sentient ones. Not all the trees were sentient, but a good half of them were, and that was more than enough. The Narians, as they now called themselves, were so grateful to escape from the bloodbath that imperial court life often resembled that they decided to swear fealty to whomever the crown princess was, and act both as their protector and as a neutral force in Jurai's frequent minor internecine skirmishes. Crown Princesses very rarely became Empress, so they could act with some legitimacy in the interests of Jurai itself, rather than the interests of any particular family or group of families. The cross-pollination of the trees had unexpected results. Gradually the Narians became closer and closer to their trees, ending up in what was for all appearances a symbiosis. The trees acted as guides and protectors for each Narian, and the Narians took care of the trees, even the ones which weren't sentient. Now, Narians were bonded at conception with a tree somewhere in the forest by the forest-mind itself. Nobody really knew why the forest did this so early, but the gestalt seemed to think it necessary. No-one told the hapless child this, however, and they had to search for their tree when they reached the age of ten. Once they found it, they went to the nearest home and spent the years until adulthood there, while their headband and then their chopsticks were carved from a branch the tree donated. The headband once fitted grew through their skin and buried into the cerebellum, providing the basic link between a Narian and their tree, and the chopsticks took on their sexual significance. After attaining maturity, Narians began to learn to use their abilities, and eventually left to find themselves a mental niche. They were sustained by the trees during their wanderings; these tended to last anywhere from a century to four millenia, and after they had ascertained how they fitted into the general scheme of things, returned to Naria and lived for a few more centuries before dying. "You're still wandering at the moment?" Aeka asked, curious. D'Sel nodded. "How long have you been wandering for?" "Fifteen thousand years." The others looked stunned; D'Sel just shrugged. "What can I say? I can't find a niche; I can't get comfortable. Until I do, I live." "You could just go back to Naria and stop your tree sustaining you," Ryoko pointed out. D'Sel fixed her with a look suggesting she'd just asked him to perform a very specific sex act with a small chicken. "Sorry..." she mumbled into her rice. Sasami and Tenchi washed up afterwards. Tenchi could barely keep his mind on not breaking plates, let alone cleaning them properly. But Sasami worked away happily, drying each item as he passed it to her. Or failed to, as it happened. "Tenchi? What is it?" she asked. He'd stopped washing the dish he was holding, and stared out of the window into the night. She wondered what was the matter. "Uh, sorry Sasami. It's nothing, really." "Okay. Could I have that dish when you've rinsed it, please," she said pertly. Tenchi didn't notice. "Oh yeah." He dunked it in the water quickly, then passed it over, cheeks flaring yet again. D'Sel had been stubbornly silent about whatever had happened with Yosho, and changed the subject whenever it came up. He insisted "It's not my place to say. Why don't you ask him about it?" and would talk about something else. He'd have to talk with his suddenly young grandfather tonight, or he'd never get anything done. Yosho sat in the shrine's office with the lights dimmed somewhat, trying to concentrate on the haiku at hand. Of all the times D'Sel could have picked to show up, it had to be now. That year he'd been left in D'Sel's care had been pretty much indescribable although the word "coercive" came near. What they hadn't done wasn't worth mentioning, thanks to D'Sel's inventiveness. Especially with the... A knock on the door brought him out of his reverie. "Yes, who is it?" he called, not bothering to disguise his voice. "Grandfather? May I come in." "No!" "Why not?" "Don't be so rude! Just don't." There was a long silence. Tenchi stood there, perplexed. Yosho had never been so peremptory with him. He waited, to see if persistence would do him any good, but all he could hear was the scratching of an old fountain pen. So he made his way back to the house, wondering how long it would take his grandfather to finish sulking. D'Sel meanwhile lay back beneath the tree that he'd decided to sleep under when the weather was good, and reflected on the evening. He'd had some strange looks when he said he'd be out here, but they were mollified by the explanation he'd offered: he felt safer under a tree than in a building. It was as simple as that. Buildings did exist on Naria - though they were always found in clearings, to avoid having to fell trees - it was just that for some reason he'd never got used to them. Besides, even if the trees on this world were mute, D'Sel thought, the fauna that lived in them more than compensated. They chattered continuously, and it almost made up for the missing silken voices of the trees talking amongst themselves. There was his tree of course, talking inside his head, but that didn't count. Nice to know you're missing us back here. Of course I'm missing you. How did Yosho take his humiliation? Badly. You were successful, then. Yes. Great fun. He's been hiding in the temple since he came round. Hilarious, really. Have you finished with him? Yes, I think he's learnt his lesson. Eight hundred years late but at least he's learnt it. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Somewhere, Tenchi lies spread-eagled on something hard and cold, barely decent. He's chained to something, and all he can see is the sky, a vast cloudless sky that stretches from azure horizon to azure horizon. Nothing happens for a while. But then he is aware of a faint whistling noise, and turns his head to see an eagle bearing down on him. It terrifies him; the claws, he can see, glint in the unseen sun like steel shears, the yellow eyes are cruel verging on the evil, and he knows that he won't get out of this with a liver that is intact. His breathing becomes shallower and shallower. Closer and closer it comes, eventually emitting a long scream. Tenchi's eyes close, as he waits for the inevitable agony... ... an inevitable agony which never comes. Instead, after the thump of wings folding, Ryoko's face hoves into view, smiling oddly down at him. "It's not me you want," she says sighing. "But you don't know what you want, either. You don't know anything about anyone, not even yourself." Both Ryoko's hands are visible. So who is it that's running a finger over his abdomen, tracing out the pattern of his ribs? He tries to raise his head to see who, but Ryoko's too quick for him and forces it back flat against whatever he's chained to. It feels like rock. She lowers herself, straddling him, but maddeningly just out of reach. He can't see anything but her as she chides him. "No Tenchi, you're not to find out yet. You will though. Oh yes." The single finger has become two, and is moving with urgency, moving down, down, reaching and becoming a hand that grasps parts none but him have grasped in that way before. With horror he realises he's erect, allowing the unseen hand a full range of movement along his shaft. The hand releases him, going back to just tickling his cock with soft finger tips before grasping again. His breathing gets sharper; he can feel the climax approaching. Why so fast? What's happened? He wishes, very briefly, that things weren't so rushed. The hand, whoever it belongs to, senses the rise in pitch and begins to work faster, joined by another hand that works only at the base of his shaft, playing lower this time, catching his balls between a thumb and three fingers. Oh yes, that felt so good, why worry about who the hands belonged to? The hands grow more frenzied. His heart pounds. He can't hear anything. Apart from the roaring, a roaring like that of a waterfall. Here it comes. He knows it. His cock so hard it could explode. His sac tightening. The slight tug at the very base of the penile tissue deep inside him and... ------------------------------------------------------------------------ ...Tenchi woke, and came. Insensible, his cock in hand, he decorated his bed with semen as he convulsed in the throes of ecstasy. The haze slowly cleared. Kami, he thought, glowing from his orgasm. Kami-sama, what did I do to deserve that? Then reality took over. He'd have to wash his blankets quietly. At least it had just gone on them, twisted around him by the tossing and turning, rather than them and the sheets. Washing the lot would seem just a little bit suspicious. Aeka would notice, but would be far too genteel to ever say so thus making it even worse, and Ryoko was a law… Wait a minute. Where was Ryoko? She should have greeted him by now, or at least expressed some sort of admiration. Yes, that was how mornings usually went. He woke up, she flattered him, he hated it and stomped off with her trailing behind. But this morning there was no sign of her. He cleaned the dampest parts of his covers the best he could with the tissues he had, listening for the explosions. None came. Wherever she was, she thankfully wasn't fighting Aeka. He pulled on a pair of pants, checking them to make sure there weren't any unexpected stains, and had pulled on a T-shirt just before Ryo-ohki phased her head through the door. "Miya!" "What? What is it?" I wish she'd learn to speak something a little more sensible, he thought. "MIYA!" And her head vanished. Puzzled, he followed her down the stairs, out of the house and up to the temple. The sound of a fight drifted down the stairs from the yard in front of the temple, but it didn't sound too violent. Ryoko was there, but it seemed that she hadn't killed anyone yet. He could hear her snarl in effort often, but her opponent - could it be Yosho? - was absolutely silent. Tenchi couldn't even hear the opponent's feet on the stones. The sight when he reached the top astonished him. Ryoko, clad in black and red and with energy sword in hand, slashed and parried as D'Sel silently moved around her. She was holding her own, but D'Sel was gaining the edge. Each time she parried the bokken it was closer to her than it had been. His instinct was to run, and try and protect her, but a glance at D'Sel's face told him it was impossible. There was no conceivable way he could defeat him. Impotent he watched from the sidelines, Ryoko slowly rotating as D'Sel orbited so that she always faced him. Eventually his bokken broke through however, and she caught what looked like a stinging blow to the ribs. It was a lot worse. The blow knocked her sideways with a horrible crack, sending her sprawling, and before Tenchi could blink D'Sel's foot was on her chest with his green-haloed sword at her head. "One," he said, breathing only slightly harder despite the exertion. "If you start a fight in anger you'll lose. Full stop. Two: you're all over the place. Half your blows wouldn't have landed even if I hadn't tried to block them. Three: summoning a doppelganger is never a good idea in the middle of a fight. It distracts you while you're summoning it, and keeps half your attention elsewhere while you're fighting." He extended a hand, taking his foot off her, smiling encouragingly. "Not bad." Ryoko pulled herself up by his hand, and glared at him. Then she noticed Tenchi, and did the best limpet imitation she could. "Oh Tenchi, thank god! This madman was trying to kill me!" she cried, her arms wrapped tightly around him. He looked haplessly at D'Sel over Ryoko's shoulder; D'Sel annoyingly grinned a-not-my-problem sort of grin and started whistling a tune as he made for the steps. "D'Sel?" Tenchi called, trying to turn his head. "What can I do for you?" D'Sel answered. "Tell me what happened with you and grandfather. Please." One of Tenchi's ribs felt dangerously close to fracturing. "I thought I told you to ask him?" "I did. He said go away." "He did, did he? Hmm." He crossed the yard again, and flung open the door. Yosho looked up, startled. "Yo-chan-" D'Sel began, but Yosho cut him off. "Go away! I don't want you near me. Never." D'Sel fixed him with a disapproving stare. "This from the man who begged me to steal some beeswax from the garden? While it still had bees in it?" Yosho swallowed nervously. D'Sel had remembered that? He was in trouble, and he knew it. The door was shut. "Your grandson out there is desperately curious. I haven't said anything." Yosho allowed himself to breathe. "Doesn't mean I won't though." His diaphragm seized again. "He's asked me about four times now, and each time I've fended it off as your business and not mine. Now, will it be me who tells him what we did with Lady Funaho's shampoo or will it be you?" D'Sel turned and faced the door, though he would have given almost anything to see sweating prince's face. "The thing is, if you explain things to him, then he gets to hear what you want him to. Whereas no-one can never tell what I'm going to say next, least of all myself." Smiling sweetly, D'Sel turned back to him. "I suppose the crux of the question is whether you'd like to start the day by dying of embarrassment." Yosho was speechless. D'Sel had him. There was no way out. "You've done well, haven't you." "Fifteen thousand years does give a few advantages. You'll have told Tenchi by lunchtime, then?" "Lunchtime!?" That was too soon. It had not been a year Yosho was particularly proud of. The technique, yes, but technique's just technique... "Yes, lunchtime. Don't worry, you've got five hours. Thing is, he's not going to get much done until then; the uncertainty's disturbing him. Anyway, why am I telling you this? You're his grandfather. Or had you forgotten because you were too busy sulking?" Yosho did, at least, have the decency to drop his gaze. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The forest rustled, and a few small birds twittered in the tree. D'Sel lay under his tree's branches, with the tree's manifestation cradling him. He was mildly surprised. "They want me back?" he asked, curiosity piqued. "They asked for a chaperone, and you by name." N'Yana-Chi rustled. "Why?" "How should I know? All I know is what the forest knows, and if Jurai didn't see fit to tell us I don't bloody know." the manifestation snapped. "The odds on Misaki's involvement?" "High. You know what she's like." "Twice a royal chaperone in a millennium. Not bad going, I think." "You were always odds-on favourite, you know." "I was? Why didn't you tell me?" The manifestation, which was female, shifted itself slightly and D'Sel snuggled back into position. "What? And miss the look on your face right now? Be serious, please... As it happens, about a hundred kilometres northeast there's a small arboreum making odds on the sort of time you'll have keeping an eye on Prince Yosho. They're 2 - 1 in favour of a repeat of the last time." "Oh, terrific." The tree giggled. "What are you so worried about?" "Food." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Ryoko relaxed her grip slightly, and Tenchi breathed once more. "I'm sorry I couldn't say good morning to you earlier. D'Sel managed to provoke me so badly I just had to attack him." D'Sel's got his uses, he thought. "Afterwards, well, you saw for yourself." Tenchi made a mental note to thank him later. Now that Ryoko's hug was merely tight, applying gentle pressure was enough to get her, gradually, to release him. She stood, looking forlorn, as D'Sel walked past them for a second time. "Yosho's working his way towards telling you," he called over his shoulder as he began to descend the steps. "You should know by lunchtime. If he doesn't get his finger out, find me and I'll tell you." Ryoko harrumphed as Tenchi jogged to catch up with him, and teleported alongside him. Tenchi was so preoccupied with D'Sel he didn't even notice when she took his hand, and floated alongside him as he made his way down the steps. "But, but why won't he tell me now?" he asked. Something was odd. He'd never needed to know anything the way he needed to know about this. "Embarrassment, I suppose. Everyone's young, stupid and hentai at some point." "It can't have been that bad, surely?" D'Sel stopped walking, and faced Tenchi squarely. This was getting a tad annoying. "Have you ever done something really idiotic? Something that you cringe to think you could ever have conceived of and now hope and pray that no-one ever finds out about?" Tenchi nodded, mutely. "It's like that. Why do you think he passed out when I turned up? Now ask me about something else, please. Yosho is not why I came here." The descent continued in silence: Tenchi couldn't think of anything else to ask him about. Before, he'd been brimming with questions - he'd always had a need to know - but now his mind was a blank. D'Sel was taciturn, keeping his thoughts to himself, so he let his mind wander. It didn't wander long, however. It came back in fairly short order with the news that not only was Ryoko holding his hand, but that was all she was doing. He stole a furtive look at her. There was the slight half-smile that faces tend to wear when their owners don't understand what's happening, and her hand exerted a gentle but insistent pressure on his. All the day needed to exceed its strangeness quota was for Aeka to be pleasant to Ryoko. Then he knew there would be no more wonders, except perhaps Washu bringing his mother back. And that, he knew, would never happen. Noboyuki usually spent his working day in a haze of anger that peaked around midday. Anger at himself for not being able to find a job closer, and anger at the amount of travelling he had to do each day. Three hours to work, three hours back. Ridiculous. It was all he could do to stop himself denting the coffee machine while he waited for it to deliver. If he stayed late, which he often had to, he didn't get back before 11pm by which time his son was always asleep. Even if Tenchi didn't have much to do, he always seemed to sleep well. Noboyuki would on these nights stand outside Tenchi's room with the door ajar, and watch him. Sometimes he'd stand there for half an hour, doing nothing except measuring the slight rise and fall of the blankets as he breathed softly, and fail to notice the tears that invariably welled. What was Tenchi going to do with himself? He'd stopped school, and refused point-blank when Noboyuki suggested he be tutored by Washu. Though Noboyuki knew that he was capable of so much more - he'd always been second or third in his class - Tenchi seemed to be content learning nothing. Such a waste. Returning to his drawing-board, Noboyuki wondered what it would be that would change his mind, because he knew that whatever Tenchi might think, he couldn't carry on the way he was now. Tenchi's absence from school had brought truant inspectors just once, a few months ago, when they realised that he and his father had "moved". Ryoko had unnerved them sufficiently, and his father's lie that he was being tutored at home meant they wouldn't be back. Now he tended the few small fields that were part of the temple. It was pleasant, and uncomplicated. There was only so much that the earth itself could do. It was wonderful to escape to here when Washu's attempts to get a sample went too far, or when Ryoko and Aeka were working out their frustration with each other in the woods. There wasn't really anything to do at the moment. But he worked in the midday sunshine anyway. Tiredness and hunger at the end of it was worth it, as a reminder of the life he almost had, and perhaps might still have. Tenchi shook his head at the thought. No, he'd never have a life that was completely normal, although days like these certainly gave him hope, where Ryoko didn't launch herself at him the moment he woke, and where neither Aeka nor Ryoko managed to demolish parts of the house. Ryoko watched him from a distance, wishing not for the first time that his clothing wasn't quite so sexless. It looked reasonable, but did nothing to show him off at all. She been there since he fled the house four hours ago, watching him and daydreaming about her future, a future she fervently hoped would include him. The quiet routine seemed to be working, to her surprise. He hadn't objected in the slightest to her holding his hand, and had gone to her defence when they arrived back at the house and Aeka's blood pressure had shot up, to see her holding him. He'd even persuaded Aeka not to fight her, for once. And yet he still blundered around not knowing what to do with her. He knew what she wanted to do with him, but seemed to have no idea why she might want to. He'd even said it once, when he thought she couldn't hear: "What does she want from me?" Apart from the sex, that should have been obvious. Ryoko knew what she had to do: tell him, and ask him what he felt, if anything. And the only way she could be sure of getting a reasoned answer was to hold back, and draw him out. Her gaze flicked away from Tenchi. It settled on the moon, oddly visible, and a bright speck that was a little closer. At first she thought it was an aeroplane, but then she heard the noise. A whining, whistling noise nothing that planned to stay aloft should make. She twigged. The tactless incompetent was on her way back. She giggled softly to herself; let's see, she thought, what D'Sel makes of this one... D'Sel was relaxed, and had been for some time. He'd thought Aeka might ask him to fight Ryoko for real when they'd got back to the house, the way she'd exploded, but Tenchi's intervention had left him free for the rest of the morning and he'd spent it taking advantage of the onsen Ryoko had created. He slumped slightly in the hot water, and while he stared up through the transparent dome, his mind sought another. It feels like you're somewhere nice. I am. It's in the Queen's residence. Her mortal enemy put it together. Oh. Right. D'Sel's tree conveyed the telepathic equivalent of a shrug. How is she? The forest wants to know. She's fine for the most part. She's matured quite a bit; you might want to have the forest update its understanding of her. Take the data. There was a brief tug as the memories of Aeka were directly transferred. As Queen we would have thought she'd be a bit more decorous his tree thought, when it had digested the images. Yes, well, nothing's quite as you might expect here. What's that sound? What? Sorry, put a thought wrong. I can hear something and I've got no idea what it is. I'll get back to you. If you must. And then N'Yana-Chi was gone. But the noise, whatever it was, grew louder. It set D'Sel's teeth on edge, and he got out of the water. He dried himself quickly, dressed then went outside. As it turned out, drying himself was pointless. He emerged just in time to see a small Galaxy Police shuttle that was plummeting, its pilot insensible, hit the water with a crack. The impact threw water high into the air, and it began to rain heavily. It didn't last long, but it was enough to leave D'Sel soaked. He wasn't happy. He stalked across the bridge to the middle, and waited. Sure enough, the pilot materialised, looking extremely guilty. Mihoshi could never quite get the knack of slowing before she landed, rather than just ploughing into water and hoping there was no-one in it. Who's this? This is Detective First-Class Mihoshi. Avoid her at all costs. Why? She doesn't seem that dangerous.  She isn't malicious, no. Then Mihoshi noticed D'Sel, and the look on his face. With a small squeak she ran to the other end of the bridge as memories flooded back; unpleasant ones. In that face was rolled all the disappointed looks she'd ever had from anyone, from her father down to Kiyone, and it was horrible. "I'm sorry about that!" she called from the safer distance. "Are you wet?" "What does it look like?" he called back. "It looks like you're wet!" "Well, then!" "Excuse me, but who are you?" "It's going to get really boring if we're shouting at each other for the rest of this conversation! I'm not going to chop your head off unless you try and harm Aeka! Which you won't, will you?" Mihoshi nodded, distantly. "Well, stop worrying and come over here, then!" Nervously Mihoshi approached him, quite unprepared for both the smile that erased all the terrible disapproval, and the polite bow as she drew closer. "Detective Mihoshi, I presume. I'm D'Sel, Aeka's new bodyguard." "Oh," she said, puzzled. "What happened to the other two?" D'Sel shrugged. "They're still here. But they're not officially assigned to her any more. Come on, I've got to find some dry clothes," and held out his hand. She took it with an odd half-smile, not quite knowing what to do, and followed him back to the house. "How did you get here?" she asked, wondering where he'd parked his ship. "It's a long story," he said, trying to warn her off. "Oh! I love long stories," she sang. "Does it have any romance in it?" "Depends how far back you go," he replied darkly. Her beatific smile faded somewhat. Mihoshi's problem was simple: she was too direct for her own good. Barely had they gone a few metres when she blurted out, "Who was she?" D'Sel stiffened for a moment, then continued. "Never mind. Past loves are not something I like to talk about. So don't ask, all right?" Their footsteps continued. Mihoshi kept the kicked-puppy look; D'Sel had to sigh. "If I thought about them all the time I'd never get anything done. They were too important to me." Mihoshi racked her brain for something more neutral. "How long are you staying for?" "As long as is necessary." "Really?" "Yes. It'll all become clear, trust me." "Oh, all right then." And she did. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ D'Sel straightened from his bow. Prince Yosho eyed his new chaperone critically. He wasn't sure if he would like him; there was something just on the edge of insolence about the man that nagged at him the way a hangnail did. He was thankful, though, that he'd been landed with a reasonably attractive one. Even if that got nowhere, at least he'd have something nice to look at during the hours of captivity, and captivity it was sure to be. His father didn't trust him around anyone and hence had foisted D'Sel upon him during the Royal tour of the empire that would keep the Emperor away from Jurai for the next year. Yosho didn't know much about Narians. His mind often wandered during his tutorials, and he could only remember the barest outline of their history. He still couldn't work out why D'Sel was wearing a headband, or why Misaki seemed so pleased to see him, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that D'Sel was three centimetres shorter than he was.(1) That made all the difference. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Tenchi arrived home for supper tired, and hungry. Ryoko followed shortly after, her head filled with anxiety. It showed, and didn't look comfortable spread over her usually confident features. She managed to wrestle it under control in time for Tenchi not to see it, and everyone chatted their way through the meal as usual. Then came the soap. D'Sel watched, rivetted despite himself. He'd never seen anything so simplistic, badly characterised and woodenly acted that was at the same time so compelling. He kept sneaking glances at the others, each time amazed to find that look of rapt attention on their faces - even Ryo-ohki, who could barely be said to have a face. All of them, that is, except Ryoko. She was paying attention, but he could see she had something pretty heavy weighing on her mind. He took a guess, and got it right. After the evening news, people began to drift off. Aeka and Sasami went up to their room, Mihoshi following them, and Tenchi up to his. D'Sel watched Ryoko float up to her favourite beam and settle, before speaking. "It's not just sex you're after, is it? You could have had that from anyone. It's him you want; his love, his soul. His smile. Yes?" "Got it in one." Ryoko stared up at the ceiling. "Does he know?" "No. He can't be too stupid to work it out, can he?" "You'd be surprised at the level of stupidity I've seen. Tenchi doesn't even come close to the most idiotic." Silence reigned for a moment. "What can I do?" Ryoko murmured. D'Sel, fortunately, had very good hearing. "Try this another way. Be his friend first, and a potential lover second." That was ludicrous. Incensed, Ryoko poked her head over the beam and snarled. "Now you're the idiot. What's that going to do? Nothing." D'Sel looked up sharply. "Fine, have it your way. Just don't be surprised when he doesn't know what to do." Ryoko bristled at this. How dare he impugn her abilities. "I'll just tell him what to do, then, won't I?" She bared her fangs; D'Sel merely shrugged. "And you'll get nowhere. Trust me." He stood and went outside to his tree, calling "Good night…" over his shoulder. Ryoko flopped back on her beam…  … as Tenchi flopped back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Then it hit him: he'd forgotten to ask Yosho about D'Sel. He swung his legs off the bed and made his way back downstairs, past Ryoko who was lost in thought, and out of the house.  Yosho was relaxed. Tenchi hadn't come to see him; and he wouldn't have gone to D'Sel instead. He wouldn't be coming today, not at this time. He thought. A knock at the door shattered his peace. He swallowed with difficulty and answered it. Tenchi stood outside, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and slight distaste. "Grandfather," he said stiffly. "What did you do?" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ D'Sel rapped smartly on the doors to Yosho's private apartments. There was no answer, so he pushed one of the heavy white doors open, and stepped inside. He hadn't been here before, but was pleased at the relative level of taste shown by the prince. He might have been only seventeen, but he'd see a few things and picked the more understated ones. Maybe there was some hope for him. "Your Highness?" D'Sel called, his voice echoing. "In here!" came the answer from the bedroom. "If you were planning to take up that invitation from Lord Katsuragi," he said as he walked, "I think we'd better leave in a few minutes to get there before the first course. Your Highness?" In the bedroom, Yosho sat at the dressing table, wearing a white bath robe, looking at himself in the mirror. "I think we'll give it a miss, to be honest. I had other plans." "Are you sure that's wise? This is in your honour, after all." "Forget it. They all are. They're so damn transparent it's laughable." Yosho looked at D'Sel in the mirror, noticing once again the softness of his features, and the way his clothes hung on him. The slight narrowness of his waist, the way his eyes gleamed... "I was about to bathe, actually." His heart thudded as he paused, gathering his courage. "Do you think you could scrub my back?" D'Sel blinked. "Haven't you got other servants to do that?" "Yes." "And...?" "I sent them away." "I see." "I don't want to have to order you to." "You can't. I'm your chaperone, not your cleaner. That's all I do." "And I'm in charge while father's away. You do what I say." "I see." "Good." "We might as well get started, then." He sighed. Yes, this was just like the last time. Except that Yosho was quicker off the mark. The prince stood, and padded into the bathing room, followed by his chaperone who was going to do far more than that. He let the bath robe fall from around him calling over his shoulder, "You'll probably want to shed a few layers." "An expert back-scrubber now are you?" D'Sel muttered under his breath. So I'll be picking up that bet then. What bet!? Oh, just a little wager I made on the side. We'll discuss this later. I've got a royal heir to try and get around. "What was that?" snapped Yosho. "Oh nothing, nothing." Yosho paused to admire his own form in the large mirror opposite for a moment; the way his legs met his hips just so, how his long hair cascaded over his torso. Then he stepped into the water. D'Sel obediently shed most of his garments, and crouched behind Yosho on the edge, but very much out of the water. He began to work, lathering Yosho's neck and back. Circle to the left; circle to the right; down the centre; dirt vanishing after his effort. Soft skin appearing, glowing. D'Sel noticed an artery in Yosho's neck. It was thudding. "Okay then," he thought. "Here we go." Sure enough, Yosho reached behind, caught both of D'Sel's arms and with a supreme effort pulled him over his head and into the bath. He surfaced with a minimum of spluttering. Yosho had moved, and snared him. Yosho brought his mouth to D'Sel's and began to kiss him. D'Sel opened his mouth obediently, and brought his tongue into play: touching, tasting, sampling; exploring, roaming and finally pressing deep into Yosho's mouth. D'Sel had been known as a good kisser. The prince's hands were busy: they roamed their way from D'Sel's head downwards. Over his shoulders; down the middle of his back that shivered under his touch, dragging fingers down his spine until the valley ended and the flesh parted. D'Sel's breath caught as Yosho reached down, between his buttocks. Yosho had him. There was nothing he could do now except throw himself into it, and just hope he came as well. Avoiding Yosho's arms, he lifted his own up to free them, then reached with both hands for Yosho's cock, already three-quarters hard. But that wasn't enough. Yosho moved a hand back up to D'Sel's head and after lifting himself onto one of the shallower shelves in the bath, began to pressure D'Sel's head downwards. "Omae wa ore no mono da(2)," he said as D'Sel engulfed him, suddenly hungry. He did so slowly, carefully, prolonging both Yosho's ecstasy and his own oral pleasure as his tongue swirled first around the head of Yosho's member, then further and further down as more of his cock disappeared into his mouth. D'sel might have preferred women, but he'd had more than enough experience to make Yosho incapable of coherent thought. Excuse me, but why are you bothering with that? Maybe if I do this well enough I won't have to have him on top of me. The odds are 17 to 1 that that's going to happen. Are you deliberately trying to depress me? Yes. Have I told you that you've got a sick sense of humour? Yes. Then why persist? It's amusing. Thanks for the help. Delirious, Yosho began to buck, thrusting his hips upwards on each downward stroke of D'Sel's mouth, the mouth that hungered and sucked at him, driving him each time to greater heights. Yosho's breathing suddenly caught and his next thrust almost snapped his hips. The peak of his climax took him, and he came in D'Sel's mouth. He grabbed D'Sel's head and forced it down onto his spear forcing D'Sel to deep-throat him as he convulsed. Ah. One of them. Shut up, will you? I'm enjoying myself here. Yosho's cock spewed, coating the back of D'Sel's throat, and salty taste of his semen made its way to D'Sel's tongue. So things weren't all work, then. D'Sel held him for a few moments as Yosho's muscles went into a few last, feeble spasms, then released the now-exhausted youth back onto the tiles. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Involved with him?" Tenchi almost yelled, totally forgetting any semblance of manners. "What do you mean, involved with him? How? Why?" "Because I wasn't going to get anyone else for at least a year," Yosho almost mumbled. "Not with D'Sel around. You've seen what he's like, how seriously he takes his duty." Tenchi had to concede this; D'Sel's manners were always impeccable, but a bit over the top. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ D'Sel fixed the horizontal Crown Prince, who resembled nothing so much as a flagpole, with a critical stare. Yosho stared at the ceiling, and wondered why he wasn't softening. "Good enough?" D'Sel asked. Yosho propped himself on his elbows, and nodded. Then an idea hit him, along with the full force of D'Sel's Look. The Look that until now he'd only thought women could manage. "Stay there," he said as he stood, staggering away from the glistening and lightly muscular Narian then into the bedroom, where he'd had the foresight to lay in a few supplies. Lubricant was one of them. He held the tube for a moment, thinking, wondering what would happen. Then he turned and went back, erection bouncing in front of him, finding D'Sel about to doze off. "Hey!" he snapped. "Wake up. I'm not finished with you yet." His eyes flicked open, just a moment throwing a look of pure hatred in Yosho's direction. He liked sleep. "Do you mind if I finish myself off first?" The Prince blushed, then pouted. "Yes, I do mind. Now get over here." D'Sel waded out and stood on the side. Yosho pointed. It didn't work. I did tell you, but would you listen? Yes, well, you can go away now. I said now. No, I can't. Try! N'Yana-Chi's presence faded to a whisper of what it usually was as D'Sel crouched on his knees, and leaned forward. Yosho knelt too, spread some of the gel on his fingers and began to grease D'Sel's ring slowly. "You'll come when I want you to, not when you need to. Clear?" Yosho snapped. D'Sel concentrated; N'Yana-Chi reappeared. He's busy, then. Yes. Heard anything from that beech you were interested in? Yes, it got back to me yesterday. Ah! Great news. I thought so. So did it. Why are you talking to me now? I'm trying to stop myself from coming until Yosho wants me to. Selfish brat. Yes, and antagonising him's not a good idea. Funaho still dotes on him, the stupid woman, so I'd rather not take the risk. Yosho had lubed himself as well. He positioned himself at D'Sel's entrance, and gently pushed forward. Not even D'Sel's mouth could have prepared him for this. The tight ring of muscle gave way enough to let him in but then clamped hard around his shaft; he gasped. Further forward he pushed, and D'Sel's attention snapped back to where he was as his prostate was nudged. Now it was time for him to enjoy himself. He pinched himself to prevent his orgasm as Yosho began to thrust into him repeatedly, slowly at first, but then faster. Yosho began to build up speed, on each thrust prodding his gland enough to spear into his consciousness that brief but intense shock of exquisite agony that brought him closer and closer. Yosho was almost there too, driving deeper each time, more and more intense. Then it was upon him. He clutched D'Sel to him and ejaculated... Well, you know what you've got to do. I thought you were elsewhere? No, I think that was you. Hmph. ...as D'Sel did too, each of his four volleys of semen leaving a long steak on the polished wooden floor. Thank the first Seed it's waterproof, he thought as Yosho collapsed out of him. He stood, slightly sore, and looked down at Yosho, now sweaty and insensate. "I trust that will be all for today," he said as he stepped over the prone and slight form. "That's the problem with Juraians," he muttered as he left, pausing only to pick up his clothes. "No endurance." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Yosho sobbed. Tenchi stared. "Only after he'd gone following father's return, did I realise what I'd done. Even Misaki couldn't hurt me more than that, even though she tried." "So was that… the only time…?" he asked, fearful. Yosho shook his head, tears running down his cheeks. "No. I think he liked the sex. He was always around when I wanted him after that. Day or night." That his grandfather, his grandfather, had done such a thing once was bad enough. That he'd done it more than a few times after that was even worse. But what was worst, was the question it raised. "Are you really my grandfather?" Yosho stopped sniffling. "Of course I am! Your mother was my daughter. Don't be so narrow in assuming that one always excludes the other." What to say? What to say? Tenchi thought, groping blindly for anything he could think of. That's it. Manners. "Did you ever think to apologise to him?" "Yes. But I never could. It seemed too much like weakness, and that was one thing father had beaten out of me." "Oh." "Have you finished tearing me apart?" "Well, um, I'm, uh," Tenchi stammered, reeling from the shock. "Would I be crying like this if I were proud of it?" he howled. His shriek knocked Tenchi back. He panicked, springing to his feet before flinging the door open and running. As he pelted down the steps, he could just hear Yosho calling after him. "Could you ask D'Sel if he'll see me tomorrow…" D'Sel looked down from a branch in the tree as he heard running footsteps. It was Tenchi. As he yanked the door open, he looked at D'Sel, and D'Sel knew that he knew. The look was brief but incandescent, and D'Sel flinched as Tenchi slammed the door behind him. So, he thought. Not a very tolerant culture. Poor sod. Yosho probably wants to talk now. I suppose I could wait until morning; no, that'd be unfair. Tenchi thudded up the stairs, not caring if he woke everyone in the house. He didn't. Everyone was sleeping quite soundly, except Ryoko. Ryoko was not asleep. He slammed his bedroom door closed; he didn't bother to turn on a light, even his bedside light, as he threw himself on to his bed, and began to weep. Why am I crying? What's wrong with me? he thought as the tears welled hotly before soaking into the pillow. Ryoko's yellow eyes gleamed in the dark, softening. Why do I feel so betrayed? Grandfather did what he did; that was then and this is now. So why? She stepped carefully beside the bed, and reached down. I hate him. I hate him. The bastard. Doing that to D'Sel. Where's this sympathy coming from?   Then he felt the hand on his head. It wasn't doing much, except slowly stroking his hair. He turned a stained face upwards, and saw it belonged to Ryoko, looking down at him with sympathy and compassion, such wonderful compassion. Things he'd never thought to see in her. He stared at her for a moment, and then stood. She folded her arms around him, and held him close as he cried. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Okay then, D'Sel thought. I'll go and see him. Typical. He always wakes me up just as I'm dozing off. He dropped out of the branches, rolled upright then began walking. He stopped when he reached the shrine office, and remembered to knock. "Yes, D'Sel. Come in." He opened the door to find Yosho sitting cross-legged, his face a picture of meekness. D'Sel looked at him. "I understand you've got something to say," he said tartly. "Yes. It's that… I'm… I'm…" "Come on, say it. Five letters, two syllables. You can do it." Yosho swallowed again. "I am… sorry, D'Sel, for what I did. I don't know what else to say; all I can ask is that you forgive me." "Okay." "I know that it's a lot… what?" "I said okay. I forgive you." "But… but…" "Would you rather I didn't? Look, Yosho, if I still bore a grudge by now you'd be a small patch of grease on the ceiling. You're not. So don't worry about me. Your grandson's another matter though; if you can manage pick up the pieces with him then things should be fine." "Thank you, D'Sel. You don't know how much this means." D'Sel shrugged, and sighed. "Just don't do it again, okay? One thing you should remember… Katsuhito..." "What? "If it had bothered me that much it wouldn't have happened." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Tenchi had not had a good night. Ryoko had held him till his sobs became merely sniffles, then finally became silent. He'd fallen asleep in her arms. How soft he was. She'd laid him down on his bed before peeling off most of his clothing, and then tucked him in. Would he remember? Probably not. But it still gave her a small glow to feel that finally, she'd been there for him. Aeka sat at the table laid for breakfast, and looked perplexed. There was something wrong, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Yes, they were all… ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Since this is an enormously frustrating and nerve-racking point for the narrative to suddenly switch tracks, this is precisely what it will now do." -- The Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy Linus is in Transmeta; all's right with the world. Comments & criticism to scribbler@phlebas.demon.co.uk. Thanks. Notes: 1. "The Height Rule"; if Yosho's the seme then he's got to be at least marginally taller than D'Sel. 2. "You belong to me" - standard seme line in yaoi manga.