All of T.M. universe is the property of Pioneer,  and the creation of
genius extraordinaire, Hiroki Hayashi. I am just a fan wishing to see
his characters in even more situations. 
	
	NOTE: This is a dark fic involving underage use of alcohol, so any
youngsters reading this should know this: Alcohol should only be used by
adults of legal drinking age, and even then, in strict moderation. It
also has a tendency to ruin lives and kill, so you adults out there
watch out. That said, please enjoy!

<...> = thought, but you knew that.

	“Arghhhhhhhhhhh! I just hate it when Ryoko does that. My brother
doesn’t have the heart to hurt her feelings by telling her to leave him
the hell alone. She knows that and she’s using it to push him as far as
she can. If this continues-” The girl was cut off by the covered black
rickshaw which had pulled alongside them, powered by the two lackeys
that both the girls were all too familiar with. The box’s curtain opened
and a voice came from the darkness therein. “Excuse me young Sasami, but
would you happen to know where your brother is?” The prim voice quizzed.
Sasami tried to smile as she scratched her head in discomfort “Ahhhh,
yes, heeeeee’s ... at home. “Oh thank you, little Sasami. I don’t mean
to pry, but is he by any chance by himself?” Sasami brightened up “Oh
no, Ryoko’s there with him” The curtain ripped shut as Sasami thought
she heard a hurried ‘thank you’. The voice inside gave a determined
“YOSH!” and a roll of bills hit Sasami squarely in the chest, making her
wince in pain.  Before she could look up to find the source of the
missile, all that was left of the rickshaw was a cloud of dust and its
image, receding down the street with the fury of  a comet. Sasami
exploded inside, turning to face her friend “I’m sorry Misao,” (A bonzai
(rising sun of Japan) headband had suddenly appeared around Sasami’s 
head, her hair gathered up, her chest stuck out in fortitude, behind
her, a backdrop painting of various demons and other mythological
figures, waging a dance of war in the  clouds, Kabuki music implying
danger) “I must go defend my brother’s honor” with that she turned about
face, sleeves rolled up, marching towards Armageddon. She felt a tug on
her shoulder “No, Sasami, don’t go back, I need yo-. Gomen, I mean, I
think he will be all right” Sasami paused in shock, then dropped her
head and sighed, “Yeah, you’re right. He is a grown boy. I’ll leave him
alone” “Right!” the lonely girl chimed, “Ikoo!” Sasami was rather
surprised at Misao’s use of the familiar tense, and seeing how happy her
friend was, she ignored her moral compulsion to return home and defend
her brother’s honor (and her mother’s furniture) 
	The sun had all but set in Tokyo and the enchanted concrete, steel, and
glass forest which reflected the auburn-blue sunlight, was a cue to its
residents to slow down and smoke a cigarette, have a drink, or take a
leisurely walk. As the two girls did more or less meander home, taking
time out to peer into the town’s various shops and spend Misaos’s mom’s
money on dango and other treats offered ofactorily on the way to the
girl’s home. More of the American styled music could be heard as they
passed kissatens and  video arcades. But Sasami liked this music, as it
was upbeat and made her want to dance ( and she would have, if not for
Misao’s sake) They passed various school and classmates and theirs
siblings, waving, exchanging brief conversation, and moving on, having
declined two or three invitations to join in tea sipping, video gaming
and other such diversions, as it was getting dark rather quickly, and
Misao’s mother was very strict about getting the girl in by a certain
hour. “Weren’t you supposed to go to cram school today” Sasami
questioned “Well...”  Came from an again apologetic Misao. “Its OK,
Misao, you have to have a little fun sometime” Sasami hurriedly
responded, again unable to hide her concern, as this was not the Misao
she knew. 
	This was not the Misao who last year missed just about every after
school and weekend activity held, so that she could go to some stuffy
cram school with a bunch of dry boys from other ‘better’ schools with
egos that made Sasami want to puke just hearing about. That really was
only the beginning. Misao used to talk about her father (that is,
whenever she did speak) rather extensively. It was one the only subjects
at which she was adept. Whenever she was alone with Sasami, and on
occasion, even with Tenchi, She would rant about how her father was a
genius, and how maybe it drove him slightly mad. She would speak of how
she would be a pianist as well, and aspire to his level of
craftsmanship. But lately, her subject matter had become none, she would
simply speak on the existing, or if not available, the previous topic.
And her comments were becoming even more general and detached, giving no
insight as to the girl’s sentiments. Not to mention all of the weird
questions she had begun to ask Sasami about destiny and fate. Misao was
getting rather strange. At first, Sasami just chalked it up to general
early teen screwed-upness, but as Misao’s mood became increasingly dark
and empty, she became increasingly concerned. Sasami broke the silent
pause. 
	“This is your building, isn’t it?” The two girls looked up at the
elegant, glass tower which reeked of cold wealth. “Yes,” Misao almost
whispered, still gazing skyward” As the girls entered the tall, glass
door, whose weight was almost indifferent to the all force their slender
arms could muster, the grace of the foyer silenced the ruckus of any
activities outside the building. Gentle classical music graced the light
show put on by the marble which covered the floor and kissed the walls
in all the right spots. The perfect mixture of  the Japanese sense of 
balance and the European flare for elaboration could be seen in the
simple, modernistic ceiling of styled white plaster adorned with
chandeliers of  hanging glass strips. “Mabushii neeee...” let out Sasami
in a quieter tone than usual, the settings about her checking the energy
normally reflected in her volume. “A-Arigato” promptly answered an
embarrassed yet happy-to-have-pleased-her-friend Misao. 
	Sasami had not been to the Amano’s residence since Ms. Amano’s
promotion and subsequent relocation. Mrs. Amano had been doing quite
well for herself and her daughter before that time, but now, now she had
really hit the jackpot. Consequentially, it meant that she would spend
even more time away from her daughter. Her travels were now on an
international level, which might have accounted for some of Misao’s
proficiency with English. When she went on business trips, Misao usually
ended up staying with the Kawais, which Misao really didn’t mind at all.
And of course Sasami’s parents refused to accept any payment from the
girl’s pioneering young mother (This only after Sasami begged them not
to, for the sake of Misao’s fragile feelings) If not that, Misao had an
aunt who jumped at the opportunity to lounge around in her big sister’s
plush condo. Eating for free and running up a phone bill, occasionally
checking to see if her impressionable young niece was still alive.
Auntie was little more than a leach, but Misao was pretty accustomed to
taking care of herself anyway and was happy for the opportunity to steal
an occasional cigarette from Fusako-obasan’s purse (smoking was a skill
Misao had only picked up in recent months) [Hey, I told you it was a
dark fic] Sasami marveled at the decorations in the elevators on the way
up. They entailed a padded, French style wallpaper covered wall,
punctuated by slender, body length mirrors with gothic silver frames.
The button console was bronze plate with black buttons elegantly denoted
with mother of pearl numbers, sunk into buffer rings fashioned from some
dark wood. The ceiling was composed of  tiles of mirror, separated by
the same dark wood. The carpet, a darker burgundy, matching it to the
color scheme of the wallpaper. All set to the same classical music from
the foyer. When they arrived on the eleventh floor, They walked the
rather wide (for Japan, anyway) hall floored with carpet of the same
pattern from the elevator wallpaper. The walls were of  rippled white,
with mirrors which ran long horizontally, with the same silver frames
from the elevator. A plain white ceiling with less extravagant
chandeliers than those in the foyer, but of the same style. All the
doorways were English in style, with thick, wooden white sills which
matched the baseboards that they flowed into and out of along the bottom
of the wall. The white, wooden doors all had bronze handles. 
	Sasami was reminded of a hotel her and Tenchi had the privilege of
staying in when their mother took them with her on a trip to a music
business convention in Kyoto. Everything was so very elegant as to make
her feel as light as a feather just being in the building. There, her
and her brother ate American breakfasts of filling food served over
perfectly laid and clean table settings which glistened in the well lit
dining rooms, and drank the kocha, or English tea, which kept Tenchi in
the toilet. All that time, their mother attended dinner ‘meetings’, so
Sasami and Tenchi were given a chance to grow a little closer together.
During their stay, she can remember that the air smelled cleaner, and
she even enjoyed the mellow jazz music which usually just put her to
sleep. Now she knew why Misao’s mother worked so hard. “You guys are
sooo rich” Sasami let escape, hoping it wouldn’t seem too rude or
offensive. “I-Iie” Misao responded as she gazed downward in guilt as
they slowed to the door to room 1103. The door for which Misao out of
habit produced a key to open. 
	Once open, Misao lightly bowed with her customary “Doozo” prompting the
bedazzled Sasami to enter the swank room seldom enjoyed by the people
who made the necessary sacrifices to live therein. Shoes left on the
doormat outside, the girls were now in the long, glazed concrete floor
covered living room/kitchen of the home. Modern was the style of the
flat/condo. Every piece of furniture and major appliance sporting a
brand name that Sasami didn’t recognize or had only seen in magazines.
Not that she was particularly interested in such things, but could not
help but to take notice. Straight lines and sharp edges dominated the
stainless steel and stone which gathered to create the open kitchen
area, which had no walls except for the one which stood behind the
refrigerator to keep its backside covered. All cabinets hung from the
area of the ceiling which had been lowered over the kitchen area. The
all can and track lighting scheme made the place look more like a studio
than a home. Even the couches, plushly leathered, were arranged at such
balanced and direct angles to the big screen no one watched and the
stone slab topped, gothic coffee table, that any formal business meeting
or morning show could have been successfully pulled off there in the
main room. “Misaochan, your mother is very stylish” complimented Sasami
to her friend who was going about the business of  throwing a Yoshida
Minako CD on the Bang & Olfson system standing discreetly along the
wall. Sasami moved to the sliding door to the brief balcony, moving the
plain, straight, grey curtain so that she could gaze outward. The
curtain moved more as Misao came to her side. “Its beautiful isn’t it?”
she kind of asked. “Very,” replied Sasami taken back by the effect of 
the suns last desperate, blue rays. “May I open it?” asked the blue
haired girl. “please” Misao urged. The door slid open with ease, and the
agreeable breeze filled the apartment, raising the curtain slightly
before giving it a rhythm to flow to. More mellow, moody sounds came
from speakers hidden around the room and in the open ceiling, which
freely beared its black painted air conditioning ducts and construction
beams. “Would you like to play a video game?” Misao called from her
room, where she was changing. “Yes” Answered Sasami. “Its in the cabinet
below the terebi” Sasami kneeled before the flatscreen TV, opening the
black wood cabinet’s tinted glass doors. “Just turn it on, its hooked
up” announced a barefoot Misao, clad in T-shirt and jogging shorts,
stepping out of her room, without the added weight of a schoolbag and
heavy clothing. She sat next to Sasami, cross legged, as the tube warmed
up, the logo screen appearing out of the blackness thereof. the girls
smiled at each other and Misao chuckled [She’s SOOOOO cute!] The two
played the game for quite some time, as Misao continuously looked at the
clock on the VCR below the Game system in the cabinet, wondering when
her mother would return. the LCD read 7:37, and Misao was wondering why
her mother had not yet called. “Sasami, I need to call my mom.” She
stated, rising from the floor, one leg stiff, the other asleep. Sasami
laughed at her funny walk as the girl tried to keep balance on a stiff
leg. Misao, too, began to chuckle, through a pained face, at her
ridiculous attempt to carefully place weight on a leg she could not
feel. She took the modular earpiece off the phone and dialed the number
to her mother’s cell phone rather quickly. As Sasami looked around the
room, game on pause, she noticed that the CD had changed, now the room
was being filled with English words, set to more smooth rhythms. Misao
stood upright in anticipation for an answer from the other end of the
phone. “Hello.” her mother’s voice came in. “Hi, mom, how are you” “Oh,
hi Misao, sorry I haven’t called, there was a late meeting and I got
caught up, do you need anything?” “No but, I wanted to know if you need
me to cook tonight” “Oh, no Misao, Thank you, we ate already. How was
cram school?” “Uhh, all right-” “Oh, Misao, I’m sorry, I’ve got to go,
we’ll talk when I get home. I’m going to be a little late, but there’s
plenty of food in the refrigerator, and if I could get you to make my
bed, thank you, I love you Misao, we’ll talk when I get home, OK.” “Hai”
answered Misao, who expected as much. She hung up the phone with what
looked to Sasami to be relief. “Sasami, are you hungry?” Misao asked her
friend, who looked a little worried. “Ahhh... I guess” she answered.
“All right then, I ‘ll cook you something special, then. Sasami was in
her arena “OK, I’ll help, You know I love to cook!” “Hajimemashoo ne!”
Misao announced as the two filled the kitchen area with their fervent
energies. Cabinet doors flew open, stove eyes came alive, water ran.
Sasami suggested a change in musical setting, to which Misao obligingly
submitted. Flipping through a musical selection dominated by very calm
and subdued looking covers, she finally found one she was familiar with.
A lively selection of Christmas music, sung by various popular Japanese
pop artists. It was nowhere near Christmas, but then again, there were
no Christians in sight, either. The upbeat, and memorable sounds sung
from the album were a good backdrop to the fun time the two girls were
now having in the kitchen. By the time they were finished, both girls
looked a mess [and were cuter than ever] Both wearing rather soiled
white aprons, Hair striated beyond combing, some of it clinging to the
sweat-moist areas of their faces. The end result of it all was a nice
sized serving bowl of  udon with vegetable tempura in it, also a few
sushi rolls to appetize. They set quite a bit of it aside for later, or
in case Misao’s mother might want some as well. It was too much food,
but quite frankly, the girls had little else to do. They began to eat as
the Christmas CD ended and as it was in the last slot, no other replaced
it. They sat at the dining table (a taller version of the coffee table)
across from one another, candles between them. “Misao, may we eat at the
other table? My favorite drama will be on in a little while.” Misao
looked at the clock, 8:15. “OK, lets move” Misao granted. Bento boxes in
hand, the girls scrambled to the set. After they put their settings
down, Misao noticed that they had neglected to get anything to drink.
“Sasami, are you thirsty?” she asked. “Ahhhh...” Sasami looked over the
table “...We forgot to get drinks.” “Yes, its OK” Misao lighted up at
the opportunity to serve. “I’ll get something” Misao almost bounced to
the kitchen to complete the setting: Her best friend, an almost
assuredly girly soap opera (as Misao knew her friend’s tastes) and some
seriously good food, as both girls knew their way around a kitchen. As
catchy commercial jingles blared through hi-fi surround sound, Misao
rummaged through the refrigerator. A cold drink probably was not ideal
for this meal and so she decided to boil some wa-** Just then she got an
evil urge. Not the first one she had in a while. Lately she was having
more and more strong urges to do things which broke most of her personal
codes of conduct. Sometimes it was something as simple as wanting to
dress in a different style. Or go up to strange foreigners and begin
conversations in English. Sometimes they really were evil. Once she
almost cut all of her aunt’s hair off while she was asleep, after the
woman had scolded her for not making up the bed she was sleeping in
(Kotoe’s bed) while she ‘kept’ Misao at their residence. She snapped out
of it just in time to put the scissors down before Fusuko awoke, puzzled
to see Misao standing there, equally puzzled. Another time, she wanted
to throw their neighbor’s poodle off of the balcony, after it had barked
at her in the hallway. She had no Idea from wence these strange thoughts
were coming, but they were very difficult to resist, and at times seemed
very natural and right. <Maybe it has something to do with my blackouts,
but since no one besides Sasami has knows about it, no one else needs
to. Its probably my fault anyway> Little Misao was all to eager to blame
herself for any ripple in the water. Incidents with no relation to her
at all, Her father’s disappearance, Her grandmother’s death, even her
aunt’s generally bad nature could be made into the fault of one person.
Herself. If she had just been smarter, or more polite. If she had cooked
better... The new urge took her, refrigerator door still open, she
spotted the Margarita mix her mother kept at the bottom of the door. She
had only seen her mother make the appealing looking green drink once
from afar. But she had taken it upon herself to learn the recipe from a
cookbook. (And as that book was written in English, she was sure that
this recipe was authentic) Sasami looked at the clock, reading 7:55, as
she wondered what was taking so long. “Misao, do you need any help”
“Ahhhhhh, Iie, its all right Sasamichan. You musn’t come back, as its a
special surprise” “Uhmmm, OK” <Sasamichan,> thought the blue headed girl
<This affectionate name ending was rare for her friend> Misao emerged
during the beginning credits holding a serving saucer with two oddly
shaped drinking glasses on top of it with what looked like rocksalt
around their rims. “Nan desu...?” Sasami asked, wide eyed at the strange
appearance of the wide mouth glasses sitting before them at the table.

Rumia perched on the bar of the balcony of the flat, looking in on the
situation before him. <It’s already started> he thought. The effects of
imposing the girl’s alter ego upon her mind had began to show, seeping
into her everyday life and thoughts. <I begged Ramia to let me use
someone else, someone already corrupted.> Indeed he had, feeling that
his unwilling subject was undeserving of being the pawn of such a
malicious and pointless game. But Ramia had informed him that such a
mind would be far too willful for him to impose his mind control on, as
he was just a fledgling sorcerer, and it was necessary for her to keep
her hands clean of the situation. Rumia would have refused his sister’s
selfish whims. But he he knew that that was not an option, as she
controlled his transformation ability, and could make the whole bird’s
life a permanent thing with a snapping of her fingers. <Damn you,
Ramia!> It pained him deeply to see the effects his black magic had
taken, and wished he’d never agreed to apprentice under his sister in
the first place. <Ramia and her promises!> He wasn’t sure how much
longer he could take it.

	“Uhhhhh...Misao...” Sasami snatched back her head, stunned by the
pungent smell from the large glass, “Does this have alcohol in it?”
“Only a little” Misa-o lied “M-my mother says it’s not enough to do
anything to you” she explained, looking away ashamedly, after all, she
was still Misao. Sasami smelled the concoction, “Uhhh, are you sure,
Misao?” Having a karaoke addict for a mother, Sasami was no stranger to
the scent, or it’s varying degrees. “Yes, I-its the foreign liquor that
smells so strong, te-tekira” Misao sighed and dropped her head “You
don’t have to drink it” <Why are you so cute?> Sasami asked herself
looking at her friend, and not wanting to ruin the fun, began to
rationalize <Oh why not?> she thought, <Its not like Misao’s going to
get me drunk and throw me off the balcony...or anything. Sasami put the
chalice to her lip, tilted it, and swallowed the slightly harsh liquid
therein. “Hehhhhhh” Sasami breathed out hard. Misao chuckled lightly,
“Here’s how,” she smiled, grabbing a lemon wedge from off the saucer on
the table, then, after licking a bit of the salt off of the glass she
held so daintily, took a nice, healthy (rather unhealthy) gulp, much to
the surprise of her now very wide eyed friend, then placed the lemon
wedge in her mouth to suck it’s sour juices. “Like that” she said,
smiling brightly at Sasami, who mimicked her action pretty well, this
being her first time. 
	
	Rumia watched the scene take place from his sister’s magic mirror,
happy that the girls were enjoying themselves, but aware that it could
have been done without the influence of the poison they drank. <Oh my
innocent Misao!> His mind raged. <I can’t stand to hurt you. If it
weren’t for Ramia-oneesan, I’d never let you hurt again. I swear it!>
“Misao I-I” He couldn’t complete the sentence <If only Ramia wasn’t
here...> He could have cried.

	The girls watched the drama, (and with the aid of  the over tequilad
margaritas) deeply felt each emotion laid out for them by the glowing
screen. The girls fell asleep on the couch, snuggled together, red of
face, alcohol on the breath. The television now watching them. Misao had
already thoroughly cleaned the glasses and put them back in place, as
the rest of the dishes remained in the sink, awaiting a washer, and her
mother’s bed remained unmade. 

Kotoe came in the door at around ten, her latest time yet, shaking off
her shoes exhaustedly in the doorway, dropping her purse and briefcase
where she stood, letting out a sigh of relief, and wondering why the TV
was still on.

	Meanwhile,12:00 o’clock a.m. at the Kawai residence, Ryoko and Ayeka
sat on the couch, KNOCKED OUT! Ryoko with the TV control in her hand, TV
blaring some old samurai movie. Tenchi had long since left to go
upstairs, having tired of hearing the two bicker. Each of the girls had
decided to wait the other out, with the usual results. Ms. Kawai entered
the house half sober (of all things) and looked down on the two females
dead asleep, and very unelegantly so, on her couch, . “Thk, thk, thk,
I’ll have to buy that boy some girl repellent,” she said as she laughed
to herself. She clapped her hands loudly “OK GIRLS, PARTY’S OVER. The
plane’s left and neither of you are on it, better luck next time! She
was assisting them both off her couch with rather strong arms as they
mumbled incoherently through sleep. She saw them out and closing the
door behind them conceited to herself, laughing, “That’s m’boy!”  

	*Whew* This is like work, except fun. A bit wordy, ne? I had to create
a little mood. Hope you enjoyed it. On to subsequent parts. I appreciate
all comments on the first fic and welcome any about this one. Also, a
very dark multi-part Tenchi war epic is in the works. Fic on!
dvoid1@home.com or nippophile@home.com