Obligatory Legal Crap: Tenchi and co. are owned by AIC and Pioneer. No infringement
intended, blah blah blah. Don't sue me, it really won't do me any good. If you like
what you read, and would be interested in my take on the others during this period,
questions and comments are a wonderful thing when sent to Kenshi@myexcel.com. And
thank you for your support.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


>From the Journals of Tenchi Masaki.
By Kenshi

Sept. 13, 1999

These days seem to go by in a gentle, quiet rhythm. I suppose I'm happy, but there 
always seems like there's something missing that I can't quite place. Walking through 
Tokyo today, on my way home from class, I saw a Camellia tree. As I stood there staring 
at the tree, I couldn't help but question my recent surges of visions. People I've never 
seen, voices I've never heard, places I've never been. It feels as though I'm living in a 
dream. I've tried to mention it to Haruna before, but she always manages to talk off of the 
subject. Of course, the last time I mentioned it, it wasn't the topic of choice by any 
means.

Life is quiet, and vaguely boring. I wish I knew what was missing. Looking back on my 
previous journals entries it seems like I'm reading someone else's words. I mean, it's my 
handwriting there, but it's like they're someone else's thoughts. Maybe it's just my 
imagination.



Sept 15, 1999

Haruna came to pick me up from school this afternoon. It was raining out, and I can't 
remember any time it rained before. It didn't rain long, though, and Haruna and I went 
out afterwards. I didn't want to lug my sketchbook around, after all. I keep hearing 
voices, calling my name. When I turn, there's no one there. The voices sound familiar 
somehow. Vague, distant, like something from a dream. I know artists question their 
sanity a lot, but this is ridiculous. 

I don't recall Picasso or Monet ever hearing voices.

I still have to find the money in the budget to get the TV fixed. It's strange, it's like I 
never know what's going on outside of our 10 block area between home and school. It 
makes you wonder sometimes. I managed to hold onto one of the images I keep seeing 
long enough to sketch it. It turned out rather good, a wild sketch of a cyan haired girl.
I'm rather proud of it.


Sept 16, 1999

I came home to find my sketch torn down. When I confronted Haruna about it, she started 
crying. I guess she was just jealous. We went out window-shopping and to a café today. 
We picked up a pair of lovely rings at the jewelry store, although they were a little out of 
or price range. I guess the TV will just have to wait.

At the café, I suddenly got a splitting headache. It came on so suddenly, and I thought I 
heard the voices again. It really was the strangest thing. I keep seeing the face that I 
sketched. I should really sketch it out again, but I hate hiding things from Haruna. On the 
other hand, I am an artist. I have to sketch what I see in my head, but she doesn't seem to 
understand that. I'm beginning to wonder just how much I understand of anything. 
Nothing seems exactly real anymore.


Sept 18, 1999

My world… Is falling slowly apart. It seems like nothing is real anymore. My head hurts 
all the time, and all I can concentrate on is this girl I'm painting. Haruna destroyed 
another one of my sketches. I keep telling myself that I lost myself somewhere along the 
way. I think maybe I did. I keep seeing flashes. More frequently than a few days ago, and 
stronger. With them the pain always comes stronger, and I can't seem to think anymore. I 
don't feel like eating, I barely feel like writing. I almost feel like I'm someone else. Like I 
don't belong in this world. I was horrified to find today, that I can't remember how 
Haruna and I met. I seem irritable more and more lately. I've never remembered myself 
being anything like who I am now. I don't like who I am now. I don't even know who I 
am when I look in the mirror anymore. My world…my life isn't my own anymore. And I 
can't get any answers. I only hope I do before I lose my mind as well.


Sept 24, 1999

I try not to think about the world of Haruna and my older self too much anymore. Who'd 
have thought that after all I've been through, I wouldn't know that I had been pulled in 
somewhere against my will. That world had been a dream, but it still lingers. I've taken 
up drawing lately. I never draw Haruna. It seems somehow a sacrilege. She exists in my 
memory now, and even that is slowly fading. She said to let it. I miss it, sometimes, my 
quiet little life, going to college, living with a girl I thought I loved. I remember thinking 
after the KAIN incident that the past can't be changed, and sometimes that's hard to 
accept. This time, it's almost as though the future is hard to accept.

I remember a million things screaming in my mind at the end of that world. I remember 
knowing who Ryoko was, and then not knowing, like something was battling for control 
of my mind and memories. I remember being very frightened that my world was ending 
with my sanity just a step ahead of it. I remember wishing Haruna hadn't broken the TV 
again. And then I remember quietness. When Grandfather came to plead for Haruna to let 
me go back, I remember watching their last moments together through Grandpa's eyes. 
They loved each other very much, and I remember feeling like an intruder there. And 
when Ryoko came for me, I don't remember ever feeling so happy to see anyone, as I 
was to see her. I've thought about it a lot, and since it's here in my own journal, I can 
admit it to myself; I'm glad it was her that came to get me. I'm glad it was her that my 
mind will always associate with the bittersweet ending of that world. I think I love her. I 
know she loves me. But that's not for now. That's for later. There will be plenty of time 
for decisions later. 

Things are mostly back-to-normal around the house now. It's a testament to our 
adaptability, I suppose. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tenchi closed his journal and lay back on the grass, watching the sky and the clouds 
rolling by. Slowly he became drowsy and drifted off to sleep, his chest rising and falling
in even, quiet breathes. 
Thus it was that he didn't notice the Camellia petal flutter across the field to land gently 
over his heart.