05/11/01


            (Standard disclaimer begging for mercy)

         Disclaimer: Tenchi Muyo! and the characters are
    not mine. They are owned by Pioneer/AIC (I think). I
    found them, and I'm just having a little fun with
    them. I'm not trying to make any money with them. This
    is simply for my own entertainment. Well, I hope it
    entertains a few others also, possibly. But please, 
    don't sue me. OK? Pretty please?
	  
      






                 "The Prince and the Pirate"
                           -Part 4-



	Even before the sun had risen over Okayama the household of 
Kanida Masaki was stirring. There were breakfasts to be cooked, 
animals and fields that needed to be tended. A farmer’s life might 
not be easy, but it was at least satisfying. Living off the land, 
at one with nature, being in tune with seasons. It was the way of 
life Kanida had chosen, it was the way of life he loved. 
	Kanida had been born and had grown up in this valley. He 
fully expect to die here one day too. He looked forward to growing 
old surrounded by his friends and family, the familiar sights and 
sounds of Okayama. The valley was as much a part him as he was of 
it. Kanida couldn’t imagine it being any other way.

	Once long ago his father had attempted to peak his interest 
in the outside world. He could still recall that day. Kanida had 
been a young man, just come of age when his father had called him 
into his office for a talk.
	
	“Kanida,”, he had said, his tone serious. “You are a man now.
 You have the right to choose your own destiny.”
  
	His destiny? Kanida had thought about his future a bit. Land 
was not hard to come by in Okayama. With no large landholders 
laying claim to the valley, it just required the willingness to 
clear an acre or two and the ability to pay taxes on it to the 
Daimyo. He had already discussed the possibilities of working a 
few acres together with some of his friends. ‘Many hands make 
light work.’, so the saying went, and they make more in the way of 
profits too. Was his father suggesting that he should start right 
away? Perhaps he wanted him to move out of the shrine, though his 
father had given no indication that he was unwelcomed to stay. 
Hatori’s eyes had bored into him, after a brief pause the old man 
continued.

	“There’s a much larger world out there beyond the boundaries 
of our little valley. There are things a young man should see, 
things waiting to be experienced. Perhaps you would like to visit 
a city, Tokyo for instance? Or the ocean? You could try your hand 
as a sailor maybe. I can supply you with traveling expenses, I 
have more money than I’ll likely be able to use in my lifetime. If 
my gold could bring you the adventure you desire, it would make me 
happy indeed. All you need do is ask.” Kanida’s mouth hung open. 
Far from being pleased, he had been aghast.

	“But, why would I want to leave?”, Kanida had answered, 
thoroughly confused. “I love this land and its people. There’s no 
other place I would ever be able to call home.” His father 
sat listening to him, his face unreadable.
 
	“I plan to live here all of my life, father!”, he finally 
exclaimed. 
	
	What had been the expression he’d seen in his father’s eyes 
that day? Had it been disappointment? Kanida wasn’t sure. But it 
vanished like smoke in the wind, never to be seen again. His father 
had been nothing but supportive of his decision since that day, 
and had never raised the question of his leaving again. That had 
been twenty odd years ago now.
 	
	Kanida loved his father. It pained him to think that he had 
somehow failed him. After his mother had passed away Kanida had 
grown very close to Hatori. The two of them had lived alone 
together in the shrine for years before he had finally married 
Yogami. His father had welcomed her with open arms though. He 
genuinely seemed to like Yogami, even though he needled her from 
time to time. Kanida knew that that was just his way. When Miyana 
had been born his father had strutted around like a man crowned 
Emperor of the universe. Kanida had been pleased. If he could do 
nothing else to please his father, at least he had been able give 
him a grandchild.

	Hatori had been a changed man after his granddaughter’s birth. 
Kanida knew that his father had never really gotten over his 
mother’s death. He’d been like a man going through the motions of 
living without taking any pleasure in it, but Miyana’s arrival had 
rekindled his fire. With new life, came new hope. And maybe a 
second chance? Did his father have some agenda of his own in mind 
for Miyana?

	Almost as soon as she had been able to walk his father had 
begun training her, in martial arts, in the way of the sword. At 
the beginning he had just attributed it to the old man’s 
eccentricities. But he had continued teaching her his skills over 
the years. Kanida had to admit that she was getting very good at 
it. But, what was the point? She would never be able to use the 
things she had learned. How was this going to help her in life? 
Was this going to help her find a husband? His father didn’t 
really expect her to become a samurai, did he? He couldn’t be 
blind to fact that that was just not possible. Even if it were, 
Yogami would never stand for it, and Kanida would agree whole 
heartedly with her. The mere thought of his little daughter 
growing up to be a killer sickened him. It was just too ludicrous 
to contemplate.
 
	When his father had broached the subject of schooling for the 
girl Kanida had been a little reticent. He did understand the value 
of an education though. He was an educated man himself. It was 
something his parents had been very insistent about. His schooling 
had opened his eyes to many things. He didn’t want to deny his 
daughter the chance for the same experience, even if it did raise 
a few eyebrows.
 
	He just couldn’t help feeling it was all part of his father’s 
master plan for Miyana, whatever that might be.



	Kanida slid the door of Miyana’s room aside, a shaft of light 
from the doorway fell across her bed. His daughter was still fast 
asleep, curled in her blankets. He crossed the floor to her bedside. 
Stopping, he knelt beside her futon. Gazing down on her tranquil 
face, he smiled. She was like a miracle made flesh, an angel come 
to earth. The day she had been born had been happiest day of his 
life. Some men actually felt themselves failures if the were unable 
to father a son. Some felt that daughters were a burden on the 
family, being too weak to work and requiring a large dowry for a 
proper marriage. Kanida had even heard horrific stories of parents 
killing their female children when they were born. Looking down on 
Miyana’s beautiful face he found it impossible to believe that such 
tales were true. There wasn’t a hell deep enough for anyone who 
could contemplate robbing the world of such light.

	“Sunshine.”, he said gently, shaking her shoulder. “It’s 
time to get up.” 
	The girl groaned, coming awake. She squinted up into his 
smiling face and promptly pulled the blankets over her head. Kanida 
took hold of the blanket, pulling it back down.
	“Come on, Miyana.”, he said with a wry smile. “You have to 
get up. Grandfather wants to leave early for town.” She groaned 
again, curling into a tighter ball.
	“If you don’t get up I’ll be forced to do IT.”, he said, 
raising his hand in a comically menacing way. “You don’t want me 
to do IT, do you?”
	Miyana continued to feign sleep, complete with a very 
unconvincing snore.
	“All right, you leave me no choice!”
	Out shot Kanida’s hand grasping one of Miyana’s legs by the 
ankle. The girl let loose a deafening shriek, flopping like a fish 
out of water as he began to tickle her foot. 
	
	“Stop! Stop! Stop!”, she screamed, kicking her leg, 
desperately trying to break free. “I’m awake! I’m awake!”

	Kanida laughingly release his hold. Miyana lay gasping for 
breath in a twisted heap of blankets, a smile on her face. 
	“That’s better.”, he said, ruffling her hair. “Now go and 
get washed up. Mom has breakfast ready and she laid out a kimono 
for you to wear.” Miyana’s grin had faded. 	“It won’t be so 
bad, you’ll see. Grandfather made me go to school when I was your 
age and I survived.”, he told her. “You’ll meet new people and 
make a lot of new friends!”
	The girl did not look convinced. Kanida smiled as he reached 
down to brush the hair from her eyes. “Please Miyana.”, he begged. 
“Try it for a while. If you absolutely hate it, I won’t force you 
to go. All right?” Her face brighten at the prospect of a possible 
reprieve.

	“You mean it?”, she asked, daring to hope that the offer 
was true.

	Her father nodded. “That’s how sure I am that you’ll like 
it.”, he said confidently. “Just you wait and see.” 
	Miyana’s eyes narrowed as she regarded her father, he seemed 
awfully sure about the outcome. Kanida smiled back at her.
	“Now give me a hug.”, he said. Wrapping his arms around her, 
he gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You can tell all about it when I 
get home tonight.”
	He gave her hair one last tussle before he stood. “I’ll see 
you to later honey, okay?”, he said as he turned to the door. Miyana 
watched as her father left the room. She sighed.
	She didn’t feel nearly as confident about this whole school 
idea as her father did. She didn’t want to say she was scared, 
nervous was a better word. Miyana had to admit that her father was 
usually right though. Perhaps it would be alright after all. But the 
prospect of having to get up early every morning to walk to town 
sounded like anything but fun. There would be some familiar faces 
there, but a lot of new ones too. She didn’t like the idea of being 
the only girl in Master Kobayashi’s class at all. ‘Why didn’t more 
girls attend?’, she wondered.

	Miyana made a quick trip to the back room of the house. Her 
mother had heated some water for bathing. Thankfully it had still 
been warm. Nothing was worse than having to wash yourself down with 
a clammy wash cloth, and dump a bucket of cold water over yourself. 
	The kimono her mother had picked for her was one of her 
favorites, white with a light green design that Miyana thought 
resembled feathers. It was very pretty, and that was why she hardly 
ever wore it. She didn’t want to ruin it by getting it all dirty. 
Even the sturdiest kimono was no match for Miyana. If her parents 
bought her one made of steel she was sure she could find a way to 
wear a hole in it. Having grown up with only boys to play with, 
she tended to be pretty ruff on her clothes.
	As she dressed herself Miyana paused to look in the mirror. 
She was twelve years old now, almost a woman. She pushed out her 
chest frowning. Holding the mirror out at arms length she turned 
to the side, critically examining her reflection. She sighed 
setting the mirror down. No change. 
	Her mother made no secret of the fact that she was already 
shopping around for a husband for her. She didn’t like that idea 
at all. Boys, who needs them? Well, there were one or two she 
thought were kinda cute, but really. Why did her mother want to 
arrange a marriage for her so soon, what was the rush? She was 
only twelve after all!

	Yogami had a light breakfast set out for her. Miyana sat 
down at the table and tucked into it, wolfing it down. Her mother 
stood with her arms crossed watching from the kitchen doorway. She 
walked over to stand across the table from the girl. Noticing her 
mother’s presence Miyana paused looking up. Yogami had an intense 
expression on her face.

	“Miyana.”, she said quietly. “I thought you promised me that 
you would stay away from that woman.” The disappointment was 
evident in her voice.

	“But mom,”, she said innocently. “Grandpa is going to be 
with us the whole time. What could possibly happen?” 
	Miyana still couldn’t fathom her mother’s distrust of her 
new friend. What was she so worried about? Ryoko seemed nice enough, 
ever if she was a little odd.

	Yogami stood chewing her lip obviously not reassured. True, 
the girl couldn’t be safer than with her grandfather. She might not 
think much of her father in law’s demeanor, but he was the perfect 
protector for her daughter. He was an expert in all sorts of 
martial arts after all. But she remember his description of the 
battle he had witnessed between the Prince and Ryoko. If Ryoko 
became like that again how could he hope to fight her? He wouldn’t 
have a chance and Yogami knew it. 
	Yogami wavered, undecided as to what to do. Miyana sat 
shoveling the last bit of rice into her mouth. Putting her bowl 
down, the girl jumped up to leave. Yogami moved around the table 
to intercept her daughter.
	“Miyana...”, she said worriedly. The girl stopped, looking 
at her curiously. 
	Perhaps she should tell Miyana what Hatori had told her? 
Maybe then she would see her ‘friend’ in a new light. But Yogami 
knew her daughter too well, the girl was too stubborn to just take 
her word for it.
	Yogami knelt, straightening Miyana’s kimono, fixing her hair. 
She looked the girl in the eyes. “...Just be careful, okay?”

	“I will.”, Miyana replied with an exasperated smile. Her 
mother was being way too dramatic. You’d think she was going off 
to war or something. 

	“Now don’t keep your grandfather waiting.”, Yogami said, 
giving her a quick hug, sending her on her way. Miyana stopped at 
the front door to put on her shoes before charging outside. Yogami 
watched her as she left.

	First her father in law had demanded that Miyana be enrolled 
in school. Now he was letting he associate with that Ryoko woman. 
It wasn’t right. Yogami was sure that no good would come of it.




	As Miyana rounded the shrine she spotted both her grandfather 
and Ryoko waiting for her on the front steps. They both smiled as 
she jogged up to them.

	“Good morning Miyana.”, Hatori said cheerily as she arrived.. 

	“Good morning Grandfather.”, she replied before turning to 
greet Ryoko. 
		
	“Wow! You look different.”, Miyana said, surprised at the 
change in her appearance. Ryoko was dressed in a long, high collared 
kimono. The sky blue of the garment accentuated her eyes, and her 
hair, which Ryoko had pulled back into a tail that flared out at 
her shoulders. 

	“It was your grandfather’s idea.”, Ryoko said, fussing with 
the bulky kimono-like robes. She felt a bit trapped under all the 
layers. “Dressed like this, maybe I can blend in?”

	The chances of her blending in, Miyana realized, where next 
to nil. But at least she looked a ‘little’ less alien. Miyana 
flashed her a reassuring smile.
	“You look nice.”, she said.

	“You think so, really ?” Ryoko asked, straightening her 
collar. “You don’t think its too flashy, do you?”

	“No, no. It’s just perfect.”

	“How about this bow? Do you like the bow?”, Ryoko asked, 
turning for her.

	“I like the bow. Lots of girls are wearing them now.”, Miyana 
said thoughtfully, her brow furloughed. “You know what that outfit 
needs? A nice handbag to go with it.”

	“A handbag? Hmm...”

	“Soooo... Are the two of you ready to go?”, Hatori asked, 
breaking in before the girls could get into a discussion on the 
merits of various accessories.
	
	“Yep!”, Miyana chimed. Ryoko gave him a quick nod in reply.

	“We might as well get started then. We have a long walk ahead 
of us.”, he said, adjusting his wide brimmed straw hat. He took a 
firm grip on his walking staff and set out in the direction of the 
shrine’s long stairway. The girls fell into step behind the old 
priest as dawn broke over the mountains.




	The town of Ibara was several miles, and at least an hour’s 
walk away. It was the center of the valley’s community, its 
trading center and its link to the outside world. Ibara was an 
excellent place to catch up on the news of the day. Located as it 
was on a central route, merchants and trades came and when regularly. 
You were just as likely to hear the latest gossip of the Daimyo’s 
(the prefecture’s lord’s) court, as you were to learn about the 
latest Tokyo fashions.

	Ibara was also the home of one Takaharu Kobayashi. Master 
Kobayashi had at one time been court scribe to a powerful lord in 
Tottori prefecture. Entering the lord’s service as a young man, he 
had spent the next fifty years of his life behind the walls of his 
castle. But even the most vigorous man’s days are numbered. When 
death claimed the old lord his son had taken over the reins of 
power. The young new lord had begun the consolidation of his power 
by immediately replacing the retinue of his father. Kobayashi 
suddenly found his services unwanted.
	The young lord had not been a cruel man though. Kobayashi’s 
years of faithful service were not forgotten. He had been given a 
generous stipend with the gratitude of the lord’s family. But 
without a purpose or plans for the future the old man had been 
adrift. Not knowing what else to do he had journeyed, returning to 
his birthplace, the land he had left so long ago, Okayama.
	He found Okayama much the same as it had been when he had 
left it. A rural community deep in the mountains, frozen in time. 
He’d been greeted as something of a celebrity when he took up 
residence in Ibara. Even a court functionary seemed exotic and 
worldly to the uneducated people of the isolated community. Soon 
he had purchased a house and settled in to live out his remaining 
years. He found that people would often come to him for advice, 
help with legal matters or even just to have him read the 
proclamations that were sometimes posted in town. It felt good to 
be useful. But Takaharu found that his greatest pleasure was 
interacting with the children of Ibara. They had been eager to 
hear his stories and were quick to pick up anything he taught 
them. As a diversion he began to school the local boys in reading 
and writing. When other families in the valley heard of his work, 
he began to receive requests to tutor even more children. Takaharu 
had accidentally found his calling, he had become the school master 
of Ibara. 



	“...so you see, he’ll even take payments in the form of rice, 
or chickens, or what-have-you.”, Hatori explained to Ryoko. “Don’t 
tell anyone I told you this, but. I know he teaches some of the 
poorer children for free.” The old priest nodded to himself. “He’s 
an honorable man, the only reason he teaches is because he loves 
the children.”

	Ryoko walked along beside the old man. Miyana had run on ahead, 
the girl seemed to be in the process of collecting the world’s largest 
bouquet of flowers. 
	She had been politely listening to Hatori while he explained 
the workings of the town’s school. She had to admit that she was 
somewhat fascinated by it all. She smiled to herself. You could 
just imagine someone trying to pay their tuition at the Galaxy 
Academy with livestock. How many head of cattle would it cost for 
a twenty year degree anyway? She supposed that some people might 
find the situation ridiculous, but she thought it was charmingly 
quaint.
 
	The road they were following wound its way down through the 
valley. Occasionally, the dense forest that bracketed the road 
would give way, opening up onto wide fields that stretched away 
into the distance. They had been walking for nearly a half hour 
now and Ryoko had yet to see another living soul. The old priest 
hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said the valley was thinly 
populated. Compared to the more advanced planets she’d ‘visited’ 
in the past, she’d have to call this one nearly vacant. But that 
would change with time she knew, it always did. It wouldn’t be 
long before this planet became like all the rest. Sprawling cities, 
electricity, ground travel, air travel, then space travel. 
	How much longer would it take them? Two hundred years, five 
hundred years, a thousand? She glanced over at the man she walked 
beside. If he could see that distant future, what would he think of 
it's ‘progress’? 

	“Ryoko!”, Miyana called as the pair caught up to her. “Hold 
these for me, I’m going to get some more!” The girl pushed a bushel 
of wild flowers into her arms. Ryoko struggled to hold them all, 
unsuccessfully, dropping several of them. She seriously doubted 
that Miyana would be able to tell the difference though. Ryoko was 
beginning to suspect that the girl had some sort of flower fixation.

	“What’s she planning on doing with all these?”, Ryoko asked 
curiously, while she attempted to adjust her burden. 

	“You tell me.”, Hatori laughed. “I’ve given up trying to 
figure her out.” 

	Miyana ran back to Ryoko, adding a handful of purple 
flowers to the load. Ryoko absently mixed them into the growing 
arrangement. She brought the flowers to her nose, smelling them. 
Their fragrance was wonderful.

	“She’s taken quite a liking to you.”, the elderly priest 
commented, as his granddaughter sprinted out ahead of them. He 
glanced over at his companion, watching her eyes follow the girl. 
Ryoko looked back at him, a small smile on her face.

	“She’s very sweet.”, she said, before turning away. Hatori 
studied he cyan haired woman for a moment, before returning his 
attention to Miyana’s progress.

	“May I ask you something?”, he ventured as they walked on.

	Ryoko glanced over at him, something in his tone filled her 
with apprehension. She nodded her head.

	“What are your plans now?”, he asked. Ryoko’s expression 
darkened as she considered his question. 
	“Don’t worry, I’m not planning on kicking you out just yet.”, 
he quickly reassured her with a smile. “I’m merely curious, that’s 
all.”

	“I’m not sure.”, she said, her eyes fixed on the ground ahead. 
“I’ve never thought about the future much. Up until now I’ve just 
lived one day at a time.”

	“Well, you can stay with us for as long as you need to. Miyana 
does seem to enjoy your company after all,”, he turned with a wry 
smile. “Even if her mother doesn’t.”

	“Thanks.”, she mutter in reply. Hatori could see that his 
daughter in law’s opinion had not gone unnoticed.

	“Oh, don’t let Yogami get you down.”, he said, trying to 
shore up her spirits. “It’s my fault really. I made the mistake of 
telling her about the fight I witnessed between the Prince and 
yourself. Now she sees you as a threat to Miyana. Can you really 
blame her though?”

	No, Ryoko couldn’t.
 
	Up ahead the girl was busy selecting new additions to her 
collection of flowers. She watched as Miyana picked through 
blossoms every bit as delicate as the girl herself. Ryoko 
understood Yogami’s distrust, she saw what is was the woman had to 
lose. Seeing the situation through Yogami’s eyes, she supposed that 
she would probably react the same way. But that realization did 
little make it any less painful.

	“She’ll come around.”, Hatori assured her. “Just give her 
some time.”

	


	Yosho opened his eyes to find an alien ceiling stretching 
overhead. Disoriented, he lay for a moment collecting himself. He’d 
been dreaming, but about what he couldn’t recall. He had the oddest 
feeling that it had been important, but the dream was already fading. 
Yosho racked his brain. It had been so vivid, now it was gone. He 
remembered that there had been a woman, one he was sure he had never 
met before. She had seemed somehow familiar though. He couldn’t even 
recall what she looked like now. All he had left was an impression. 
	Carefully Yosho sat up, bracing himself for the inevitable 
pain. To his surprise, he found that he didn’t hurt. A night’s sleep 
seemed to have made all the difference. He yawned, extending his 
good arm out in cartilage popping stretch. He felt great in fact, 
a million times better than yesterday. Curiously he moved his left 
arm around a bit, there was no pain at all. He pulled the sling back, 
cautiously he extended the injured arm. It felt a little weak, but 
otherwise it seemed perfectly normal. He flexed the fingers on his 
hand making a fist. Juraian’s had remarkable recuperative powers, 
but there was no way his arm could have repaired itself this quickly. 
Yosho sat contemplating his miraculously healed limb. Something very 
strange was going on. 	
	
	After a trip to the shrine’s bathroom and a quick wash in the 
basin, Yosho dressed himself. Since Hatori and the others were away, 
it seemed like the perfect opportunity to examine poor damaged 
Funaho. It was time to start thinking of a way to get back home as 
well. He had obligations to fulfill. His father probably had ships 
sweeping the sectors for him, though it would likely to take them 
quite a while to find him this far out. Mother Funaho and Misaki 
would be worried sick. Ayeka would be beside herself as well he 
supposed. He paused as he thought about her.  

	Ayeka, his future bride and queen. 

	He sighed. It was strange to think of her that way. The 
little girl who had followed him around like a puppy, all grown up. 
In another couple of years she would be eighteen and they would 
have the formal marriage ceremony.

	Yosho tightened the sash around his waist, knotting it in 
the proper manner. Wrapped twice around, pulled across itself once, 
then looped and tied tight. The loop in the sash harkened back to a 
distant past, when noblemen would carry their badges of status on 
their person. It was a tradition, like so many others, that had long 
since lost its usefulness.
 
	Tradition, it was the glue that held a society together. 
Tradition was also the bone of contention that threatened to 
tear Jurai apart.

	Over time traditions can develop a strength even greater 
than law, and they were a hundred times more difficult to change. 
Even the royal house of Jurai was subject to them. It was a widely 
held belief that Juraian nobility was a breed apart. To mix their 
blood with the blood of other planets was considered tantamount to 
heresy. Had not Tsunami picked them to lead? Had she not chosen 
theirs’ above all other worlds? Were Juraians not the chosen 
people?

	For millennia the royalty of Jurai had sustained itself 
through selective inbreeding, despite the risk of genetic 
aberrations. Careful monitoring had managed to keep defects to a 
minimum, but it was a system that could not last. It was a system 
that Yosho’s father, Azusa, fought to change. 
	The previous emperor, Yotsuga, had been a traditionalist and 
while the galaxy had continued to develop and evolve throughout the 
four thousand years of his reign, Jurai had been kept hide-bound 
and unchanged. When Emperor Azusa rose to power he discovered that 
he had inherited a Jurai that was stagnating, mired in the vanity 
of is greatness. Even a common monarchy would not lend itself 
readily to change. One based on divinity, as Jurai’s was, might as 
well have been anchored in stone. But Emperor Azusa had been 
determined to change those practices that he found redundant and 
antiquated. His marriage to Yosho’s mother, Funaho, had been the 
first battle fought in his war of ideas.

	For some reason that Yosho could not fathom, his parents had 
always been tight lipped concerning the circumstances of their 
courtship. The basics he knew; his father had met and fallen in 
love with his mother while on a visit to Earth. When he left she 
had agreed to return with him and become his wife. The reason for 
his father’s visit still remained a mystery to him though. 
	The consequences of his father’s actions had been far 
reaching; an Emperor of Jurai had taken an offworlder as his wife.
 
	He had once wondered if it was all an act. Political 
marriages and those among royalty were often loveless affairs, it 
was not uncommon for a couple to be paired who didn’t even like 
one another. But this had never seemed the case with his parents. 
The normally gruff and sharp Azusa would turn as meek as a kitten 
in his mother presence. A softly spoken word from her could turn 
the king’s ear even when the threat of war would not. The normal 
reserved Funaho could turn as giddy as a school girl in his father’s 
presence. A kind word from him could bring a smile and a blush on 
her normally stoic features, even in public. Yosho knew that they 
had the strength of a true bond of love, and after word of their 
marriage was announced they had needed ever ounce of it.
	Yosho’s mother had a gentle heart. A woman of grace and 
dignity, she drew attention in any room she entered. But she also 
had a will like iron, and a spirit that was indomitable, as the 
Emperor’s vocal critics discovered when they began to publicly 
attack her in the press. Funaho needed no one to fight her battles 
for her and it wasn’t long before the woman from a backwater 
planet had instilled in her critics, if not acceptance, at least 
a healthy dose of respect. She hadn’t asked to be loved by the 
Juraian people, but she did demand to be respected. Public 
proclamations of disdain for the new queen withered away, but 
never completely vanished. The people’s biases quietly simmered. 
It was into this atmosphere of veiled contempt that Yosho Jurai 
had been born.

	Secluded behind the walls of the Imperial palace young Yosho 
knew only a life of ease and luxury. It wasn’t until he had begun 
to mature that he discovered the secret that festered outside the 
walls. Some of the children of the Lords and Nobleman he had 
associated with treated him differently. Not simply because he was 
the son of the Emperor, but because of another less tangible 
reason. One that here would overhear when they believed he was not 
around. Because he was a ‘foreigner’, an ‘offworlder’; and when 
they said it they made it sound like a curse. Yosho was just old 
enough to understand the meaning of those words. He understood the 
feeling behind them completely, and it frightened him. His mother 
was outraged when she found that she could not shield her son from 
the closed minded even inside the palace itself. The always 
pragmatic Funaho combated this prejudice by teaching him about his 
role in life. He learned his sense of duty from his mother, his 
sense of justice and honor. The one lesson she had taught that he 
had truly taken to heart was this: “Always have faith in himself. 
Know yourself Yosho, trust yourself. Do not allow others to tell 
you who or what you are.” He never forgot that, he lived his life 
by those words.


	
	A quiet knock sounded at his door, rousing him from his 
musings.

	“Prince Yosho?”, the voice of Yogami called.

	“Yes?” He brushed himself off, rising to his feet. The door 
slid across to reveal Yogami kneeling on the far side. 
	
	“I hope I am not disturbing you.”, the woman said, 
respectfully keeping her eyes lowered. “I thought you might be 
hungry, so I brought you something to eat.”

	“Not at all, please come in.”, he reassured her with a smile.
 “I was just starting to feel a bit peckish actually, Thank you.”

	Yogami retrieved the tray she had placed next to the door. 
She set it inside the room before stepping through and pulling 
the panel shut behind her. Picking up the tray, she carried it 
the last few feet, before kneeling and placing it before Yosho.

	Yosho took a seat, marveling at the grace with which she 
moved. It was as if every movement had been choreographed, from the 
way she walked and the way she spoke, to the speed with which she 
moved. There was something about it he couldn’t quite put his 
finger on... 
	Now he had it.

	“You’ve been to some sort of finishing school, haven’t you?” 
He recognized the courtly manner of someone trained in etiquette. 
Yogami, who had been pouring tea, hesitated. She blushed, lowering 
her head as if in embarrassment. Yosho chuckled.

	“Please don’t be embarrassed.”, he said with a smile. “You 
move very gracefully.” 

	“My mother sent me when I was a girl.” Yogami continued to 
set out Yosho’s meal as she spoke; her movement precise, her manner 
studied. “She wanted me to learn to be more ‘refined’.” She glanced 
up, smiling.

	“I’d have to say that your lessons worked.”, he smiled back, 
picking up the chop sticks she had set atop his rice bowl. 
“Though, I don’t suppose you have many opportunities to use what 
you’ve learned around here.” Her smile dimmed slightly, she sighed.

	Yosho saw sadness coloring her brown eyes, he quickly tried 
changed the subject.
	“You’d be surprised at the different customs and traditions 
various planets have.”, he said lightly. Yogami looked back to him,
curious. “Of course, as a Prince I’ve seen more than most people. 
The rituals on some planets are quite complex.” He paused taking a 
bite of fish, washing it down with a quick swig of water. He 
grimaced as he continued. “Too complex sometimes. On one planet 
for instance, Uruni, formal dinners are served by actors during 
the course of a play. The play is a telling of Uruni’s founding by 
settlers, and the courses are served to punctuate various events 
in their history.”

	“That sounds fascinating.”, Yogami commented, her discomfort 
forgotten.

	“Well, it would be... If the play wasn’t four hours long!”, 
he said in exasperation, his eyebrows arching. “A person could 
starve to death between the courses. Not to mention the fact that... 
Well... Have you ever tried to ‘hold it’ for four hours?” Yogami 
stifled a giggle with her hand, Yosho grinned back. “I’ve been a 
guest at three!” He held up three fingers in emphasis, dragging out 
the word’s syllables. “THREE of those dinners! I managed to politely 
pay attention during the second one, but during that last one... I 
swear to you, I seriously considered faking a stroke!” Yogami 
laughed out loud. “I would have done anything if they’d just let 
me leave!” Yosho began laughing as well, he struggled to continue. 
“I mean,” he gasped. “how many times can you feign interest in an 
hour long play about the heroic success of a planet’s salt water 
desalinization plant!?!” 
	Yosho doubled over, rolling with laughter. Yogami looked on 
in surprise. She had no idea what he was talking about now, but at 
this point it didn’t matter. The laughter was contagious and soon 
she had tears in her eyes as well. Yosho was gasping for breath, 
after a minute or two he managed to regained control of himself. 
	“Ohh.”, he sighed, wiping his eyes. “The things I do for 
Jurai.” Yogami smiled at him warmly.

 
	The mention of his home world brought him back to sober 
reality. The day was wearing on, he really should go and have a 
look at Funaho. He had a lifespan of a thousand years to look 
forward to and yet he still worried about the passage of days. He 
supposed that would change eventually in time.
	He resumed his meal. Now that the mood had been broken he 
even managed to coax Yogami into helping him finish it. Yogami’s 
mother would have been scandalized by her complete disregard of 
etiquette. Yosho regarded her with amusement. She ate with him with 
the air of a child doing something naughty, breaking the rules and 
afraid of getting caught, but doing it all the same. However meek 
it was, this mischievous side of her was one he’d not seen in the 
short time he had know her. Now he thought saw what Kanida must 
have seen in her years ago, the girl she must have been once.
	As Yogami collected the dishes together to take back with 
her, Yosho told her about his plans to visit Funaho.
	
	“Your... air-ship?”, she said, sitting back wide eyed. She 
was obviously awed by the very idea.
	
	He grinned at her reaction and nodded. “It’s called Funaho, 
after my mother.” He considered telling her about his tree also, 
but decided against it. The poor woman already had enough to deal 
with. “Would you like to come with me and see it? It’s not far, 
just down in the valley.” Yogami looked him in the eye. She thought 
about it for a moment, but shook her head.

	“Such things are beyond me.”, she said, looking down at the 
tray before her. “And there’s too much work that needs to be done.” 
‘That’ was the Yogami that Yosho knew. 

	“Well, perhaps another time then, before I go.” She perked 
up at the mention of his departure, glancing up at him.

	“You are leaving then?”, she asked. She wore an odd 
expression on her face.

	“My ship was very badly damaged.” he explained. “I’ll have 
to get some help fixing it first. I don’t know how long it’ll be 
before someone to hears my distress call.” Yogami sat listening 
intently. “But as soon as Funaho’s fixed I’ll have to leave. My 
family will be expecting me. There are things I need to take care 
of on Jurai.”

	“Will you be taking *her* with you?”, Yogami asked when 
Yosho had finish without mentioning the woman with the yellow 
eyes.

	“Ryoko?” He hadn’t thought about her. 
	Yosho supposed that it was probably a bad idea to leave her 
on Earth. She was just too unstable. But she was a hunted woman in 
every other part of the galaxy. What chance would she have if he 
brought her back to the core systems? Even with Yosho as her 
advocate she was liable to spend the rest of her life in a prison. 
Or worse, end up as a research subject in some laboratory. Although 
he hadn’t known her very long, he really didn’t want to see that 
happen to her. Maybe the best of all possible outcomes would be for 
her to live out her life right here after all. He might be able to 
convince Hatori to take her in, he thought. Of course, that all 
depended on her behavior between now and his departure.

	“Please...”, Yogami said when he failed to reply. “Please 
take her with you!” 
	She quickly bowed to him, her head touching the ground. Yosho 
looked down at her in surprise. The woman remained prostrate before 
him. 
	“You must!”, she exclaimed.

	Yosho stood in stunned silence at the woman’s vehemence. He 
hadn’t realized depth of Yogami’s antipathy. It seemed as though 
his decision had been made for him.

	“Are you really that afraid of her?”, he asked quietly, 
already knowing the answer.

	“Please my Lord,”, she begged. “I ask not only for myself, 
but for my daughter as well! If Ryoko stays I fear for our safety! 
We cannot defend ourselves!”

	“But...”, he began. “Yogami...?”

	“Yogami?”, he asked again. The brown haired woman raised her 
head to look at him. “Has she given you any reason to distrust her?” 
Her brown eyes searched his for a moment, she bowed to him once 
again without answering. Yosho’s shoulders slumped in defeat as he 
turned from her. There would be no home for Ryoko on Earth. He 
strode to the door, opening it. Yosho turned back to the prone 
woman. “I will do as you ask.”, he said quietly. Stepping through, 
he strode away. 
	
	“Thank you, my Lord.” Yogami’s reply followed him, ringing 
hollow in his ears. “Thank you!”



	“Good morning.”, Hatori said genially, nodding as the trio 
passed a pair of women. His small group had finally reached the 
outskirts of  Ibara. The women stared back at them in surprise. One 
of the pair stumbled as she passed, gasping she dropped the basket 
she had been carrying. Ryoko and Miyana both glanced back in 
curiosity. The woman hurriedly collected the vegetables she’d 
spilled, her wide eyes followed their progress. The girls turned 
to one another and shrugged. Hatori smiled inwardly; this was 
bound to be interesting visit indeed.

	The main street ran through the center of town. At this time 
of morning it was bustling with activity. One and two story 
buildings lined the dirt roadway, they were simply constructed but 
well maintained. Where stalls there were set up in front of 
businesses, merchants and customers haggled animatedly. People 
moved briskly up and down the street, running errands, coming to 
and from market. A wave of quiet sweep over the crowd as Hatori 
lead his band down the center of the street. Shoppers turned to 
gawk, mothers quickly pulled their children away, and whispers 
shot back and forth between on lookers as a path hastily cleared 
before them. Hatori scanned the crowd before glancing over at Ryoko. 
News traveled fast in the valley,  it seemed as though someone had 
been spreading rumors about his ‘guest’.
 
	Ryoko was quickly becoming aware that she was the center of 
attention. She looked about, nervously hugging the armful of 
wildflowers she still held. When she felt a tug on her sleeve she 
jumped. She turned to find Miyana smiling at her, the girl reached 
up took her hand. Buoyed by Miyana’s reassuring grasp she squared 
her shoulders and walked on, ignoring the stares of the throng. 
As they passed, the sounds of the market swelled. Muttered 
conversations began excitedly behind them. Hatori increased their 
pace. He didn’t really expect trouble, but there was no telling 
what sort of tales people had heard.


	Master Kobayashi’s house lay on the far side of town, it was 
a modest but comfortable looking dwelling. The low wall that 
surrounded it enclosed several larger shade trees as well. On the 
porch an old man sat, cross legged, drinking tea in the morning 
sun. He didn’t appear to be much younger than the stones that 
lined his walk. Hatori opened the gate and lead the girls up to 
him. 
	“Takaharu!”, he called as he drew close.

	“Eh? Who’s that?”, the old man replied squinting at them, 
setting down is cup.

	“It’s Hatori.”, he replied. The man’s sight had been failing 
for years, but not his wits. 
	“Ah, Hatori! I’ve been expecting you.”, Master Kobayashi rose 
and descended the steps to greet them. He bowed when he reached the 
bottom, Hatori and Miyana bowed in reply. “So, this must be little 
Miyana.” The man smiled and leaned down to get a better look at her. 
“You’ve grown so big since I last saw you. How old are you now?”

	“Twelve.”, she replied shyly.

	“Twelve? Really!”, he chuckled. “You’re growing so fast, it 
won’t be long before you catch up to me.” He straightened and 
exchanged a smile with Hatori. 
	“And who’s this?” He asked, noticing their companion.

	“This is a guest of ours,”, the priest said introducing her. 
“Ryoko.” The old man’s eyes widen momentarily, he stepped close to 
her squinting.

	“Ahh! One of your mysterious ‘guests’.”, he said curiously 
looking her over. “There’s been talk of them all over town.” 
	“Are those for me?”, the old man quipped when saw the 
flowers that Ryoko carried. He moved his face closer to hers. 
Uncomfortable with his scrutiny, Ryoko leaned away as he continued 
to lean nearer. Soon she was in danger of toppling over, the old 
man stepped back when he realized her discomfort. He turned to 
Hatori and smiled. “Doesn’t look much like a ‘demon’, does she?” 
	
	“Huh?”, Miyana asked confused, next to her Ryoko bristled. 
The school master quickly turned to Ryoko and bowed deeply.

	“I’m sorry, I meant no offense.”, he smiled at her. “It’s a 
pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Master Kobayashi, 
but you can just call me Takaharu. Unless of course you’re planning 
on attending my class.” Ryoko relaxed a bit now that her dignity 
had been soothed. Takaharu turned back to the elder priest.
 
	“Why don’t you bring Miyana inside?”, he asked Hatori, 
motioning to the door. “We’ll have a little talk and I can show 
her around.”

	“Alright.”, Hatori agreed before turning to Ryoko. He reached 
into the folds of his robes and produced a small bag . “Here Ryoko.” 
Opening the sack he pulled out a couple of gold pieces, placing them 
in her hand. “Why don’t you buy a basket for those flowers? There 
should be enough there to pay for anything else that strikes your 
fancy too.” He winked. Ryoko looked down at the coins in her hand 
curiously and back at him.

 	“Don’t worry, we shouldn’t be long.”, he assured her. Taking 
Miyana by the hand, he turned to follow as Takaharu led them up the 
steps. Ryoko watched as they filed into the house. Miyana turned as 
she went through the door, shooting Ryoko a look that spoke of 
certain doom. Ryoko stood for a moment after they had passed out of 
sight. She frowned looking down at the gold pieces in her hand, then 
out to the street. The traffic at this end of town wasn’t very 
brisk. A few passers strode by, giving her a furtive glance before 
hurrying on. She walked to the gate and looking around the street. 
There were several shops close by. One right across from the school 
had various goods stacked in front of it. That seemed like as good 
a place to start as any. She looked up and down the street to see 
if anyone was coming. Confident there was no one nearby she opened 
the gate and hurried across the road.


	Several stores down from the school a shopkeeper noticed a 
rather disheveled looking figure sitting atop an overturned barrel 
in front of his store. It wasn’t going to do his business any good 
to have this type of character hanging about. 
	“Hey you!”, he called, but the man ignored him. “Hey, I’m 
talking to you!” The shopkeeper stalked up behind the drifter and 
stood with his hands on his hips. “Listen, I can’t have you resting 
here.” 
	There was a bag slung over the man’s shoulder, his hat was 
pulled down low over his eyes, he continued to gaze off down the 
street. Was the man deaf? The shopkeeper reached out to tap the man 
on the shoulder. With a blurred flash of movement the stranger’s 
hand caught his wrist, the storekeeper barked in pain at the 
crushing grasp. The drifter turned to him with a smile, but there 
was no humor in his piercing eyes. 	
	“I’ll be leaving shortly.”, the stranger said 
conversationally, while he ground his finger tips into the 
shopkeepers tendons. 
	The shopkeeper groaned in pain as a wave of pure agony sweep 
up his arm. “Perhaps you should go back inside and mind your own 
business?”, the man suggested. The stranger’s cold smile more than 
hinted at the dire consequences if he weren’t to comply.
	The frightened shopkeeper quickly nodded, he gasped in relief 
as the man released his grip. The drifter turned away from him 
dismissingly, directing his attention back out onto the street. 
Spinning, the shopkeeper rushed back to his store. Keeping a wary 
eye on the stranger he quickly closed up shop. Today was the 
perfect day to start that vacation he’d been planning on taking, 
he decided.
 
	The drifter watched intently as a hundred yards away a cyan 
haired girl made her way across the street. When he saw that she 
had entered a store he stood and began to casually stroll in its 
direction.




	Yosho ran his hand along Funaho’s hull. The ship showed the 
trauma of the recent battle, its normally smooth and highly 
polished surface felt ruff to the touch; pitted and burned. Yosho 
stepped back to take in the length of the ship, he studied it 
critically.
	Well..., he’d seen worse. Not much worse, mind you, but it 
could be fixed. Yosho could just imagine the looks of dismay on 
the faces of the shipwrights when he returned with Funaho in this 
condition. The artisans that crafted Jurai’s ships were proud men. 
The fact that they could construct a spacefaring vessel from one 
of the universe’s least likely materials, wood; was considered a 
wonder of the galaxy. Every one of the ships they built were 
looked after like children. When even the slightest blemish was 
found on one of their works of art it was considered a tragedy. 
Yosho shook his head. Just wait until they saw this, he was never 
going to hear the end of it.
	He tried looking at the damage in a positive light. Apart 
from the hull breech over the stellar drive compartment and a 
couple of serious plasma strikes, there was nothing ‘major’ wrong 
with the ship. He noticed Funaho’s number two anti-air guard 
hanging tenuously from the ship’s starboard side, its upper most 
hinge had taken a direct hit. Yosho walked over to have a look at 
it. The vertical wing seemed stable enough. 
	‘They really built these ships to last’, he thought, 
impressed as he gave it rap with his knuckle. There was an almighty 
pop, like a giant breaking a tree over his knee. Yosho looked up, 
he leapt back just as the wing crashed to earth on the spot he had 
been standing. It balanced itself precariously for a second before 
gracefully toppling over. Yosho sprinted, then dived out of the way 
as thirty feet of specially treated Juraian lumber impacted the 
ground, raising an enormous cloud of dust. Rubbing his eyes, he 
fitfully hacked up a lungful of dirt. Prone on the ground Yosho 
laughed in bemusment, “Yep,” he coughed. “They really build these 
ships to last!”
	Sighing, he got to his feet, brushing himself off. There was 
no use fooling himself any longer, Funaho needed heavy repairs. 
The sooner he sent off a distress call, the sooner help would 
arrive. Yosho took Tenchi-ken from his sash, concentrating he 
asked Funaho to teleport him aboard. He felt rather than heard 
her response, and a moment later he stood on the bridge before 
Funaho. Around him holo-screens flashed to life displaying the 
ship’s status. Yosho smiled up at the tree. Funaho was his partner, 
and would be with him throughout his life.

	“Hello, Funaho.”, he said, as he walked a few paces and laid 
a hand on her trunk. He looked up into the tree’s canopy, which 
spread itself under the roof of the ship’s glowing opaque dome. 
The dome was more a life support capsule for Funaho than for him, 
it perfectly duplicated the environment on Jurai. 
	“Why don’t we have a look at planet Earth?”, he suggested 
aloud, though he knew that Funaho would pick up on his thoughts at 
such close proximity. The dome overhead shifted from milky white 
to clear, sunlight flooded the control center. “There, isn’t that 
better? Not a bad planet, eh? Plenty of sun at least.” Beams of 
light sprang from special leaves in the tree’s bows, playing over 
him as Funaho signaled her pleasure. Yosho step back with a 
pleased smile. Funaho rarely communicated her thoughts so directly.

	He sometimes wondered what she thought. She did think, that 
was a given. She was sentient after all. The people of Jurai 
rarely stopped to consider the sentient trees that were their 
allies. The children of Tsunami; Yosho supposed that the less 
informed might consider them property or mere tools of the Empire, 
but this was far from the case. They were a species all their own, 
with their own goals and desires. What the trees mysterious plans 
might be, had been guessed at by many over the years, as well as 
the reasons behind those plans. 

	Yosho gazed up at Funaho, an alien creature in an alien 
environment. She was a first generation child of Tsunami, the 
author of Jurai’s history. Without Tsunami there would have been 
no Empire, and without the Empire there would have been no peace 
in the galaxy. 
	Before the rise of the Juraian Empire the galaxy had been 
in turmoil. Chaos had reigned while factions, planets and systems 
continually warred with one another. Tsunami had changed that by 
changing Jurai. Strengthened by their alliance with Tsunami and 
her children, Jurai’s forces had swept out pacifying the 
surrounding systems, forging treaties and putting down unrest and 
violent opposition. The ensuing conflicts had been brief. The 
power embodied in the trees had made them unopposable, and within 
a thousand years Jurai had gained control over nearly half the 
galaxy. But Jurai’s conquests hadn’t been to gain territory, they 
had been an attempt to impose stability. Yosho’s ancestors had 
had little interest in directly governing the systems they 
conquered. Self-rule had been returned to the worlds under 
Jurai’s influence as soon as it had been feasible. The Galaxy 
Police had then been established as an impartial law enforcement 
agency to monitor and police the Empire. Conquerors the Juraians 
may have been, but they endeavored to be benevolent ones. Fifteen 
thousand years of relative peace and prosperity had passed now, 
and it had all been thanks to Tsunami. 


	“Computer, activate the emergency distress beacon.”

	A screen to Yosho’s right flashed red and a scroll of numbers 
rolled up it. An automated voice tolled through cabin as the 
message began.

	“ ‘This is the Imperial Juraian vessel Funaho, we are in 
need of assistance, our coordinates are ....’ “

	“Audio off.” There was nothing left to do now but wait.


	Tsunami, the first ship. She was a fable now, almost a myth. 
Tsunami had become a rouge ship after the death of her partner, the 
legendary first Emperor, Kyunii. She had rarely been seen in the last 
fifteen thousand years. Only appearing during times of crisis or when 
disaster threatened. She would vanish as mysteriously as she had come, 
fading once again into legend until she was needed. Tsunami was almost 
a god to the people of Jurai.
 
	‘Almost?’, he thought. He shook his head, correcting himself. 
She was a god.

	Yosho looked around the ship until his eyes fell once more 
on Funaho. Every sentient tree on Jurai could trace its ancestry 
back to Tsunami. Every one of them was living proof of her divinity.
 
	The origins of both the royal house of Jurai and Tsunami 
were practically lost in myth in this age. But Yosho had 
information that wasn’t available to the general population, he 
knew the family’s oral history. Passed down generation to 
generation, he’d heard the tale many times while he was growing 
up.


	The family of the first Emperor had been part of a federation 
of privateers. ‘Privateers’ being the polite term for pirates. 
Jurai was a planet in the heart of the galactic hub. Positioned as 
it was at the cross roads of the galaxy, it became a natural port 
of call for passing ships, and its inhabitants became expert 
spacefarers. The main industry of Jurai might have been 
entertainment for its visitors, but its main commodity had always 
been information. Shipping routes, ship’s manifests, ports of 
destination, the identities of particular travelers. All these 
things had value if the right buyer could be found. 
	At first enterprising Juraian spacemen had kept alert for 
reports of lost or overdue ships. Any ship reported lost in space 
was fair game for salvagers, and Juraian salvagers were the best. 
With all the information that flowed through Jurai, its spacefarers 
had been able to produce hyper-accurate maps. If there was a shoal 
that could wreck a ship, a gravity well that could throw one off 
course, or a spatial anomaly that could disable one, the Juraian’s 
knew about it. And they were more than ready to use that 
information to their advantage. The problem with salvaging ships 
is that you could never be sure when the next one would be lost. 
Some of the more brazen Juraian privateers took the next logical 
step; relieving ships of their cargoes before they were lost.
	Being good at what they did, the Juraians had never been 
particularly ruthless pirates. Still, shipping companies had a 
way of taking umbrage at losing millions of tons worth of cargo a 
season. While no one pointed any fingers at Jurai proper, 
suspicions were thinly veiled. Jurai continued its clandestine 
business for centuries, becoming the center of a vast underground 
network. Several families became wealthy and prominent on Jurai, 
including the family of Yosho’s distant ancestor, Kyunii Jurai. 
	Kyunii had been the eldest son of a shipping magnate. An 
expert pilot and navigator he had spent most of his life in space. 
By all accounts he had been a happy go lucky young man, a bit of 
a rouge in fact. They said he was always one step ahead of the law, 
and two steps ahead of the competition. At least, that was, until 
the day his luck finally failed him.

	Kyunii had been on a smuggling run. What his cargo had been 
was long forgotten now. What was important were the consequences 
of this particular flight, it had ramifications that stretched far 
into the future. It changed not only the course of Juraian history, 
but the course of galactic history as well.
	Kyunii’s single seater skiff had picked up a load of 
contraband from a distant world and was attempting to make its way 
back to planet Jurai. The Galaxy Police had not yet been formed, 
but there was one type of justice that could be found in the galaxy 
at that time, mob justice. On his return flight he was spotted by 
the ship of a rival federation. A chase ensued crisscrossing the 
space lanes. The rival gang’s enforcers finally caught him within 
sight of Jurai. Kyunii’s unarmed ship was decimated and left for 
dead. A gravely wounded Kyunii had masterful nursed his shattered 
vessel home. But the ship had plunged out of control into the 
atmosphere of Jurai. Kyunii had been unable to contact his family, 
unable to get word of his position out. As the ship broke apart 
Kyunii ejected its lifepod, he lost consciousness as the ground 
hurtled up to meet it.

	He awoke to find himself broken and bleeding, thrown from 
the wrecked remains of his ship’s lifepod. Night was falling, 
unable to move he stared helplessly up into the sky through 
skeletal branches. He was deep in the densely forested mountains 
of Jurai’s northern continent, snow covered the ground. When 
night came it would bring with it temperatures well below 
freezing. The usually optimistic Kyunii came to the only possible 
conclusion he could. He was going to die. The thought of death 
didn’t bother him much, it was the thought of being alone that 
really scared him. Already the cold was taking hold of him; his 
limbs became numb, his breathing shallow. His fevered mind began 
to play tricks on him as well. Over the crackle of his smoldering 
escape pod, he could hear a voice calling to him.
	
	“Kyunii Jurai.”, it said. He deliriously wondered at that. 
His family name was Nagushi, not Jurai, that was the planet’s 
name. His hallucination should really try to get its facts 
straight.

	“Not at all.”, a feminine voice laughed, as a warm light 
surrounded him. “You are indeed Kyunii Jurai, or you soon will 
be.”

	Her laughter filled him with a feeling of peace. It was 
like the soothing whisper of a lullaby. Kyunii’s pain slowly ebbed, 
his body began to tingle. He felt his life slipping away. 

	“Rest now.”, the voice said. He found himself comforted by 
the phantom woman’s presence. It was becoming harder to breathe, 
harder to see, but the warmth of her words cradled him. He was 
unafraid when he gasped his last labored breath. The long night 
descended on Kyunii as his vision faded; the end had finally 
come.


	To Kyunii’s profound surprise, his vision returned. He found 
himself standing in an ethereal room, awash with a gentle glow. A 
woman stood before him bathed in white light. He raised a hand to 
shield his eyes. Kyunii squinted trying to make out her features. 
While they remained indistinct, he could see the outline of her 
figure well enough.
	“I’m dead. Right?”, he asked in confusion. “And you’re an 
angel?” If all the angels looked liked her dying might not be so 
bad after all.
 
	The angelic woman seemed to hear his unspoken comment. She 
laughed and began speaking to him, though her mouth never moved. 
“I am not an angel, and you are not dead. You see, I have saved 
you.” With the brilliance of a star her aura filled the room. 
“You have a destiny to fulfill, Kyunii.”
	Stepping forward, she moved towards him, stopping when they 
at last stood face to face. Kyunii blinked. Even at this distance, 
he still couldn’t make out her face, merely a pair of wide dark 
eyes and the thin line of a mouth raised in a smile. Her 
fathomless eyes mesmerized him. His mouth worked as he tried to 
speak.

	“Who...who are you?”, he muttered. Everything had taken on a 
dreamlike quality. Was this really happening?

	“I am Tsunami.”, the voice in his head said, tinkling with 
musical laughter. “I will be the first ship of Jurai.”  As Kyunii 
stood in shocked awe she reached out to him. The mysterious being 
took hold of his hands, her grasp was warm and completely human. 
She leaned closer to him, until her dark eyes filled his vision. 
Her lips moved when she spoke again. “And you,” she whispered, 
“Kyunii. You will be the first Emperor of Jurai.” As their 
foreheads touched a burst of light filled the room. “You will be 
the father of the generations.” Kyunii felt her arms brush him 
as they encircled him, her lips found his. She pressed herself 
against him, her touch was light but firm, her passion elegant. 
She was soft and warm against his skin, like a shower in spring. 
His heart filled with a joy that was almost painful in its 
intensity, tears welled in his eyes as she held him. 

	“I-I don’t understand.”, he gasped, his mind was ablaze 
with visions.

	“Do not be afraid, Kyunii Jurai.”, she soothed. “It was 
fated that we should be together.” She pressed her lips against 
his. His eyes went wide as the images once again filled his mind. 
Kyunii’s arms came up to hold her. He could see it so clearly. 
Lines stretching out into the future, his line and hers. Both of 
their lines intertwined, forever. His hand ran through her hair as 
he returned her kiss. Together they fell, in each others embrace. 
All the while her playful laughter echoed, in his mind her voice 
continued to speak. 
	“I have chosen you, Kyunii. Together we will found a dynasty, 
and together our children will bring peace to the galaxy.”



	Yosho absently ran his hand along Funaho’s trunk, lost in 
thought. Something sparked in the back of his mind. A memory came 
to him unbidden; the image of the woman from his dream, surrounded 
by light. He stiffened in surprise.
	
	“Tsunami...!” Yosho gasped in wonder, holding his 
miraculously healed arm before his eyes. Was it really possible?




	“I’ve never had a girl student before, but you seem sharp 
enough.”, Master Kobayashi said. He sat on the large desk at the 
front of the room. “I think you’ll do fine here, Miyana.” 
	Miyana stood next to her grandfather, her eyes downcast, her 
hands clasped before her. She looked thoroughly dejected. Master 
Kobayashi cocked an eyebrow at her.
	“Don’t you want to be in my class?”, he asked. Miyana 
shrugged her shoulders indifferently, not looking up. He glanced 
aside at Hatori before crossing his arms, he scratched his chin 
for a moment and sighed.
	“Maybe you’re right.” He looked down at her. “Maybe it’s a 
bad idea. After all, the boys are pretty smart. Being just a girl, 
I doubt you’d be able to keep up with them.” Miyana’s head snapped 
up, glaring indignantly at him. Hatori knowingly grinned beside 
her.

	“Keep up with them?!”, she said angrily. “Those idiots?!”
 
	“They pick up their lessons very quickly. I wouldn’t want 
to have to teach slower just for you.”, Master Kobayashi 
continued, as though he had not heard her. Miyana quaked before 
him.

	“Teach slower!?”, she gasped in disbelief. “I can learn 
anything those ‘baka’ can learn, and in half the time! I’m faster, 
stronger and smarter than any one of them!” The master looked at 
her as if he were considering what she was saying. 

	“I don’t know.”, he said scratching his chin again. “Are you 
sure about this? You’re going to look very foolish if you fail.”

	Miyana balled a fist up before her and shook it. “I’ll be 
the best student you ever had!”, she swore through clenched teeth. 
“I guarantee it!” A smile lit on Master Kobayashi’s face.

	“I’m glad to hear that.”, he chuckled lightly. Miyana 
dropped her fist to her side in confusion. Next to her, her 
grandfather was quietly laughing. 

	“Welcome to my class, Miyana.”

	She groaned, slapping a hand to her forehead as she 
realized she’d been tricked. Pitilessly, the two older men 
laughed aloud at her predicament. After a moment Master Kobayashi’s 
laughter ceased and a warm smile spread across his face.

	“Like I said before, I think you’ll do fine.”, he nodded to 
her. “Now, why don’t you step outside for a minute so I can have a 
word with your grandfather?” Miyana glanced back and forth between 
the two men before walking away defeated. As she left Takaharu 
turned to the priest. “She definatly has your temperament, doesn’t 
she?”

	Hatori stared after the girl, a smile on his weathered face. 
“That she does.”, he said, nodding proudly. “That she does.”


	“I’ll be with you in just a minute!”, a voice called from the 
back of the little shop as Ryoko entered. She glanced around 
curiously at the items sitting on shelves and hanging from the 
walls. Waiting for the store’s clerk to appear, she wandered about. 
She had no idea what half of the things that she saw were for, but 
they were all beautifully hand-crafted. A particularly artfully 
woven basket caught her eye. Ryoko placed Miyana’s flowers into it, 
quickly brushing herself off. Putting her arm through its handle, 
she lifted it and continued to look around. On a rack at the shop’s 
counter sat several small stone carvings. Ryoko was drawn to one 
in particular. It was the intricately detailed carving of some 
strange animal. She picked the life-like figurine up, turning around 
in her hand. What an unusual creature. Was it a real animal or some 
mythical beast?

	“I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”, the clerk said as she 
emerged from the store’s back room. “Can I help...” The woman 
stopped in her tracks, her eyes going wide. Ryoko was too intent 
on the object in her hand to notice her reaction.

	“What is this?”, she asked curiously, tracing the 
creature’s long ears with a finger.

	The sound of her voice roused the clerk from her catatonia. 
The woman nervously eyed Ryoko, the figurine in her hand and the 
doorway she had just entered. “It’s...”, she replied cautiously. 
“It’s a Netsuke.”

	“A Netsuke?”, Ryoko repeated. She smiled, now having a name 
to go with the creature. The woman nodded in reply, watching her.

	“They’re purse weights.”, the clerk explained. Ryoko looked 
up at her confused. “They’re tied to the end of a purse like one 
of these,” The woman lifted one of the small silk bags that hung 
on the wall behind her to show Ryoko. “then it’s tucked into your 
sash. It holds your purse in place.” Ryoko was beginning to 
realize the woman’s misunderstanding.

	“No,”, she said, holding up the figurine. “I meant what 
‘animal’ is this.”

	The woman looked puzzled that she didn’t recognize it. 
“What animal?”, she said in confusion. “... It’s a rabbit!”

	Ryoko smiled as she lovingly stroked the ‘rabbit’. She 
glanced up at the woman. “Is it expensive?” The clerk nodded 
nervously.
	
	“They’re made by a man right here in town, he’s been carving 
them for years. He’s very good at it.” Ryoko agreed with her, it 
was beautiful. She held out the gold pieces Hatori had given her.

	“Is this enough for me to get this basket, and the ‘rabbit’ 
too?”, she asked. The woman’s eyes lit up at the sight of gold. 
She nodded, a smile spread across her face, her fears forgotten.

	“More than enough!” the woman exclaimed, quickly relieving 
her of the coins. “I’ll even throw in the purse for free. Just 
let me get you some change.”




	Outside of Master Kobayashi’s house Miyana walked about 
disgustedly kicking at stones. She couldn’t believe she’d been 
fooled so easily. She had all but demanded to be included in his 
class, if only she could have held her temper in check she might 
have gotten away. Bumping into someone, Miyana jumped back in 
surprise. Three boys stood before her.

	“What are you doing here, huh?”, the tallest of the three 
young toughs demanded. Miyana recognized his pock marked face 
immediately. Kitaru, he was fifteen and a notorious bully. The boy 
stepped up to her.
	“Don’t tell me that nutty old priest is actually trying to 
enroll you?”, he sneered. She bristled at the insult to her 
grandfather, glaring at the boy she clenched her fist.

	“What of it?”, she growled back. Kitaru’s hand shot out 
striking her in the shoulder, throwing her off balance. Miyana 
stumbled back catching her foot on a root, the boys all laughed as 
she fell sprawling. 

	“Don’t you understand?”, he said smirking down at her. “Girls 
don’t belong here. If you think we’re going to let you come here, 
you can just forget it.” Miyana jumped back to her feet seething 
with anger, she stood face to face with the boy. 



	Ryoko stepped out of the little shop into the midday sun 
with a pleased smile. She glanced across the road into the school 
yard, Miyana was talking to a couple of boys. Ryoko gasped in 
shock as she saw the girl knocked to the ground. Miyana was being 
attacked! Without a second’s hesitation she dropped her basket 
and leapt into the air, immediately winking from sight. The wicker 
basket clattered as it struck the boards of the now vacant porch. 
There was a sharp exclamation of surprise from the corner of the 
building. A disreputable looking figure stood in shocked disbelief 
of the feat he’d just witnessed. The man cautiously stepped out of 
hiding, quickly scanning the area. His eyes narrowed when he 
noticed several children arguing on the far side of the street.



	“I’m not afraid of you, Kitaru!”, Miyana hissed. The young 
tough stepped up to her the smile gone from his face. He grabbed 
hold of her kimono, lifting her by it.

	“I can fix that!”, he growled threateningly, shaking the 
much smaller girl. “Because every day that you show up, I’m going 
to personally kick your ass!”

	“Is that right?”, a voice echoed. The young thugs looked 
around in confusion, unable to locate the speaker. Behind Miyana 
a ball of energy expanded forming a shimmering globe, a dark 
figure began emerging from it. Kitaru released his hold on the 
girl’s kimono as his jaw dropped in shock. The other boys shrank 
back together, their mouths agape. A woman floated in the air 
behind the girl, surrounded by a blinding aura of energy. The 
would-be bullies gasped in terror, the color draining from their 
faces. Miyana spun around to see what had scared them so badly. 
	“Ryoko!”, she gasped in disbelief, taking a step back. Her 
new friend hung in the air, her arms thrown wide. Lightning arced 
between Ryoko’s outstretched hands. A chilling smile was fixed on 
her face, her hair was whipped wildly by some unfelt wind.

	“If I *ever* hear of you so much as *touching* Miyana 
again...”, she slowly extended a long finger at the huddled boys. 
Ominously she bared her canine teeth in a wicked grin, cackling. 
Electricity swept up and down her outstretched arm. Three uniform 
wet stains spread down the fronts of the boys’ trousers. They 
shrieked, falling over themselves as they turned to flee.

	“DEMON!! ONI!! DEMON!!”, the boys screamed. They fled the 
school yard with their feet barely touching the ground, diving 
over the wall into the brush outside.



	The drifter watched curiously as the strange ‘woman’ 
reappeared near the children. “Very interesting.”, he muttered. 
The man reached into the folds of his kimono, pulling out a pear. 
Intent on the confrontation, he absently shined it on his dirty 
sleeve before taking a bite. He’d never seen an Oni kill before, 
this could prove very educational. To his great disappointment 
though the boys turned and ran, the Oni did not pursue them.



	Ryoko drifted to the ground with a contemptuous snicker. 
“Did you see their faces?”, she laughed to Miyana. It wasn’t until 
she turned that she realized the girl was nearly as frightened as 
the boys had been. Ryoko took a step forward. “Miyana?”

	“What are you?”, the girl asked, her voice trembling. She 
began to edge her way around Ryoko. 

	“Miyana... I...”, As she took another step forward the girl 
leaped back. 

	“Stay away from me!”, Miyana gasped, sprinting for the 
school’s door. Ryoko turned holding out a hand. 

	“But, I was just...”, The girl disappeared through the 
door without stopping, Ryoko dropped her hand back to her side 
as her voice trailed away. “... trying to help.”	

	The curious faces of Hatori and Master Kobayashi appeared 
from the doorway a second later.

	“Miyana?”, Hatori turned calling after her as he stepped 
out.

	“What was all that commotion about?”, the old schoolmaster 
asked, looking around.

	Hatori looked out into the school yard just in time to see 
the outline of Ryoko fade from view. Master Kobayashi turned as 
well, his eyes went wide for a moment.

	“Eh? Wasn’t that ‘guest’ of yours just standing here?”, the 
old man squinted, doubting what he had seen.

	“Miyana!”, the priest called as he turned on his heel. 
Something had happened. He quickly strode back into the school to 
look for his granddaughter. The confused schoolmaster followed in 
his wake.



	On the far side of the street Ryoko stood looking down at 
her basket, unaware that she was being watched from the shadows. 
The drifter hugged the wall of the building, crouched silently 
behind a stack of crates. He studied the woman who seemed lost in 
thought. She reached into her kimono, pulling something from its 
folds. There was the ring of metal on metal when she dropped the 
item into the basket. She reached down lifting the basket and was 
suddenly gone again. The man slowly stood, having witnessed this 
miracle before he was less surprised this time. He scanned the 
yard of the building across the street. Sure enough, a moment 
later the cyan haired girl appeared. She stood on the porch of the 
school for an instant before blinking from sight. The drifter 
quickly hid himself again, waiting for her return. After a few 
minutes he relaxed, it became apparent that she was not coming 
back. He looked back across the road. There was nothing left to 
do now but wait. He pulled one of the loose crates from the stack 
and took a seat. After ten minutes or so he saw the Oni’s 
companions emerge from the building. The old man examined the 
basket left by the Oni. He took something from it, both the old 
man and the girl studied it for a moment. The drifter saw the old 
man slide the item into his robe before handing the basket to the 
child. The pair headed for the street. Passing through the gate 
they turned and headed back through the village. The drifter 
watched until they had almost dwindled from view at the far end 
of the street. He stood, shouldering his bag. Adjusting his hat 
low over his eyes, he set off in pursuit of them.



	“Miyana?”, Hatori called from the schoolroom’s doorway. The 
girl stood on the far side of the room, her back to him. He came 
up beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. The girl was 
shivering. He knelt, gently turning her to face him. Tears stained 
her face, something had scared her badly. “What is it? What’s 
happened?”

	Miyana stood with her arms wrapped about herself. She began 
to sob. “It was Ryoko... she... she’s...” The girl threw her arms 
around him, buring her face in the old man’s chest. Hatori 
worriedly hugged his granddaughter while she cried. 

	“Has something happened?”, Master Kobayashi asked from the 
doorway while Hatori comforted Miyana. “Is there anything I can 
do to help?”

	“Do you think she could have something to drink?”, Hatori 
asked, stroking the girl’s hair.

	“Of course,” the schoolmaster replied. “I’ll get some water.” 
The old man briskly hurried away. After he had gone the old priest 
turned back to his granddaughter. 

	“Miyana?”, Hatori took hold of her shoulders and held her at 
arms length. He lifted her chin with one hand, looking into her 
eyes. “Miyana, did Ryoko attack you?” The girl shook her head.

	“No, she... I...”, Miyana took a deep breath. “Kitaru was 
bullying me and she... I turned around and she was...” The girl 
sobbed in confusion. Hatori hugged her close as she began to cry 
again. He was begin to get an idea as to what had happened. 
“...Grandpa, I was so scared!”

	“It’s all right, Miyana.”, he whispered reassuringly as he 
rocked her. “It’s all right.”

	By the time the schoolmaster had returned with the water 
Hatori had managed calmed his granddaughter down. As he dried her 
eyes Hatori concocted a story about Miyana being frightened by a 
snake outside in the yard, the master looked dubious but said 
nothing. He continued, saying that they needed to find Ryoko and 
be on their way. Master Kobayashi made him promise to return later 
so that they could decide when Miyana would start attending class. 
When the pair took their leave of the schoolmaster they discovered 
a basket sitting on the porch. It contained Miyana’s flowers and 
something else. Hatori lifted the basket and removed the object 
from its bed of blooms, eyeing it curiously. It was a coin purse, 
complete with an exquisitely carved Netsuke. Hatori showed it to 
a curious Miyana. He opened the purse and emptied it into his 
hand. She had even returned the change. Hatori raised his head 
glancing about, but Ryoko was nowhere to be seen.



	It was early afternoon when Yosho trudged back up the hill 
to the shrine, the sun was blazing down. As he came out of the 
trees he dropped the bag he’d been carrying and drew a sleeve 
across his brow. Since it seemed as though he would be staying for 
a while he had collected a few useful items from Funaho; a change 
of clothes, some toiletries. The walk down into the valley hadn’t 
been so bad, but the climb up was a killer. The air was hazy with 
the humidity. Fanning himself, Yosho pulled his robes open wishing 
for a breeze. He looked up into the sky, puffy clouds taunted him 
with hints of a coming rain. He huffed as he picked the bag up, 
slinging it over his shoulder he continued on to the shrine. It 
was a relief to get into the relative cool of the building’s shade. 
He walked out through its back door to the inner courtyard’s 
covered walk. As he strolled to his quarters a figure caught his 
attention, a figure sitting on the roof. Yosho did a double take 
in surprise. It was Ryoko. He stepped out from under the walkway’s 
gables to stand in the open courtyard. He waved his free hand to 
get her attention.

	“Hey! Ryoko!”, he called. The woman turned her head to look 
down at him. “Back so soon?” She looked away from him without 
replying. Yosho put his hand to his mouth calling again. “Where’s 
Hatori and Miyana?” Ryoko ignored him. He stood waiting to see if 
she would answer. After a minute or so he shrugged to himself. It 
was going to be like that was it? “Oh, well.”, he sighed as he 
walked on.

	Yosho continued across the courtyard, climbing the stairs 
into the building that contained his room. The doors had been 
left open to catch the nonexistent breeze, probably by the ever 
efficient Yogami. Yosho entered his sparsely furnished, but 
comfortable, quarters. He marveled again at the room’s design. 
Ambient light illuminated the room. Paper! The windows and parts 
of the walls had been constructed with paper. Who would have 
thought that you could use such a delicate material for 
construction? He shook his head, smiling to himself. Of course 
this was coming from a native of Jurai, a planet where they 
built spaceships from wood. He shouldn’t be so surprise that 
another culture could make a seemingly impractical idea work. 
Yosho opened the door to the room’s closet. Setting the bag 
down, he opened it and began to put away the clothes he had 
brought. When he had finished he removed the bag’s last 
remaining item. He stood and kicked the bag itself in before 
closing the door. Yosho looked down at the hexagonal object in his 
hand. He fingered a key on its side, a six inch tall hologram 
sprang to life from the projector’s base.

	“Hello, my beloved.”, the smiling recording of Ayeka began. 
“I hope this message finds you well.” Yosho walked to his bed roll, 
taking a seat on it. He crossed his legs and set the projector on 
the floor before him as she continued to speak. “I hope that your 
studies are going well. Apparently you’ve managed to impress Master 
Nisaki with your skills. Mother informs me that father has been 
bragging to all the Lords about the reports he’s received.” She 
chuckled. Yosho placed an elbow on his knee, resting his chin on 
his palm. Ayeka had sent this to him while he was still at the 
Galaxy Academy. “I am told that you will be returning in only a 
few short months. My heart longs to see you again, my dearest.” 
The image of Ayeka clasped her hands before her, a shy smile 
crossed her face. “I will be waiting for you, Yosho.”

	The projection paused as it reached its end. Yosho sat 
staring at the image of his future wife. Her eyes were bright 
sapphires, her dark hair betraying their common parentage.
 
	“She’s beautiful.”, a voice commented from beside him. Yosho 
jumped with a start, nearly falling over as his elbow slipped off 
his knee. He whipped around to find Ryoko seated next to him. 

	“How long have you been there!”, he said sharply, his heart 
racing in his chest. Ryoko sat with her legs crossed, floating an 
unnerving foot above the floor. She looked him in the eye before 
turning her gaze back to the shimmering figure. Yosho scowled at 
her, angered at his violated privacy, but something in her 
expression stayed his tongue when he’d been about to berate her.  
“What?”, he asked, curious. “What is it?” 

	“You look an a lot alike.”, she said, her eyes fixed on 
the recording, her thoughts elsewhere.

	“Ayeka is my half sister.”, he explained glancing at her 
image, waiting for Ryoko to say what was on her mind.

	“I know.”, she muttered absently.

	‘Yes.’, he thought to himself. ‘You would.’ 
	That was information she would need to know before attacking 
Jurai. The faceless master who had sent her on her mission would 
have prepared detailed information on the members of the royal 
family. But what had been to purpose of that attack? The possible 
rewards must have been great indeed to risk angering the most 
powerful empire in the galaxy. Yosho studied Ryoko intently. The 
answers were right in front of him if he could just get at them. 
After a moment she began to speak.

	“While we were in town Miyana was attacked by some boys.” 
Yosho tensed in dread of what might be to come. He had already 
completed the story a dozen ways in his head, all of the endings 
were bad. The worry must have shown on his face, Ryoko glanced 
at him and quickly continued on. “I didn’t hurt them, I just 
scared them a little.”, she said, putting his mind at ease. 
“Which was better than they deserved for picking on a girl half 
their size.” Yosho relaxed a bit, thankful that she’d been able 
to restrain herself. Ryoko grinned, her eyes still fixed on his 
half-sister’s image. She chuckled humorlessly. “You should have 
seen their faces! I was sure I would get at least one of them to 
faint.” Her laughter ebbed away leaving a frown on her face. 
“But I scared Miyana in the process. She was afraid of me. She 
ran away.” Ryoko dropped her chin in a curiously childlike pout. 
“I didn’t mean to scare her, I was just trying to help.”

	Well, that explained why he hadn’t seen Hatori or Miyana. 
Ryoko had obviously returned on her own after frightening the girl 
off. Yosho was oddly touched that she had come to him, not that 
there was anyone else she could tell her problems to really. But 
the fact that Ryoko felt comfortable enough to talk to him was 
good. She sat silently, obviously waiting for a reply. He wished 
he had some words of wisdom to impart, but that had never been 
his strong suit. Mother Funaho would have know what to say to her, 
father probably would have been able to bluster about honor, but 
Yosho was just going to have to improvise. He considered the 
situation for a moment.

	“Have you ever seen yourself?”, he asked. “I mean when 
you’re ‘powered-up’, or however you want to describe it, for an 
attack?” Ryoko turned to look at him, curious. 
	“I have, and let me tell you. You *are* scary.” He smiled 
lightly to take the sting out of his words. “Don’t forget what 
type of planet we’re on. These people don’t have any of the powers 
you possess. Miyana’s never even seen a light bulb let alone someone 
who could levitate or teleport. Who wouldn’t be scared seeing 
something that shocking for the first time?” Ryoko listened quietly 
as he spoke, digesting what he was saying. “If it means anything to 
you, I think you did the right thing. I can’t abide a bully. It’s 
too bad that she had to learn your secrets this way though.” Yosho 
sighed as he looked away, still at a loss for something helpful to 
say. 
	“I can see that the friendship you’ve struck up with this 
girl is important to you.”, he asked as he glanced back. “But why?”

	“You don’t understand, Yosho.” He was surprised to hear her 
use his name. “I’ve never had a friend before, except for Ryo-Ohki. 
But Ryo-Ohki never had a choice in the matter. We were paired 
together by Master Kagato and we learned to rely on one another. 
We had to, there was no other choice.” The cyan haired girl turned 
to glance at him. Yosho sat watching her, chin in hand, listening 
attentively. She quickly looked away, down at her hands which 
rested in her lap. “I’ve wondered, am I the type of person that 
Ryo-Ohki would have chosen to be with?” Yosho’s brow beetled in 
incomprehension. 	The way she talked about her ship, it was 
almost as if she were speaking about a person. Suddenly it struck 
him that she was. Being from Jurai he had first hand experience 
with sentient ships. It was quickly becoming obvious to him that 
Ryo-Ohki had been more than just a vehicle she had ridden in. He 
tried to come to grips with this idea as she continued on.
 
	“Miyana is the first person who ever really *wanted* to be 
my friend.”, she explained. Yosho nodded to himself. That made 
some sense he supposed, however flawed her logic. The real reason 
she’d never had a friend before was because she’d been too busy 
destroying the planets of any prospective friends, though it 
wouldn’t help matters pointing that tiny fact out to her. “I just 
thought that...” Ryoko shook her head. “I don’t know. I thought 
that maybe she saw something in me, something ...special. 
Something that made me worth having as a friend.” 

	‘Special?’, he thought as he smiled to himself. ‘There’s an 
understatement.’ 
	Ryoko was unique, that was for sure. Little Miyana had chosen 
to befriend potentially the galaxy’s most dangerous woman. And 
worse yet, Ryoko was a woman with almost no social skills. Well, 
she did seem to be making progress. Yosho felt that that was 
something he should encourage, but how was he supposed to salvage 
this situation? He silently berated himself for not having taken 
a Psychology course or two while at the academy. Well, there was 
always his fallback position; What would mother Funaho say?

	“I think you’re going to have to talk to her. If you don’t 
want her to be afraid of you, you’re going to have to show her 
that there’s nothing to be frightened of.”, he said. It seemed 
like the logical solution. Ryoko listened to this with interest, 
waiting for him to continue. When Yosho failed to provide 
specifics she spoke up.

	“But, what am I going to say?”, she prompted him, her 
expression eager.

	“Tell her the truth.”, he said mildly exasperated. As much 
as Yosho wanted to help, he really didn’t feel up to playing 
relationship therapist for an ex-pirate. What had he gotten 
himself into?

	“The truth? About me being a space pirate?”, Ryoko’s eyes 
narrowed in disbelief.

	“Sure, why not?” he replied a bit flippantly. Obviously there 
were some details that should be glossed over, but the truth was 
the best place to start.

	“Are you an idiot?!” she said heatedly, her eyes flashing. 
Yosho bristled at her insult as Ryoko underwent yet another 
quicksilver mood change. “I’m supposed to tell that little girl 
that I’m one of the most wanted criminals in the galaxy?” She 
began ranting, gesticulating wildly. Oddly, Yosho found her anger 
directed not at him but outward to a room empty of accusers. 
“I’m supposed to tell her that I’m responsible for attacks on more 
than a hundred planets?! That I’ve destroyed villages just like 
the one we visited today? That I’m responsible for the deaths of 
who-knows-how-many people.” Yosho listened as she built to a 
crescendo. “I’m supposed to tell her that I’m...!”  

	Ryoko’s voiced dropped away to a whisper. 
“...that I’m a murderer?”

	Yosho rocked back. So that was what this little outburst had 
been leading up to, he thought. He examined her profile. Was he 
really looking at the face of a killer?

	“Hang on! I think we both know the truth behind that, don’t 
we? Don’t we?” Yosho grasped her arm, turning her to face him. The 
girl swiveled strangely in the air, as if suspended by some unseen 
thread. “Whose ideas were those attacks, hmm? Yours?”, he asked, 
trying to meet her glance. Ryoko’s eyes glazed over, she appeared 
to be looking right through him. Yosho continued, undaunted. 
“Enjoyed them did you? And those people you killed, did you enjoy 
doing that too? Did you?” He knew it wasn’t her doing. It had all 
been part of the twisted agenda of her master. She had just been 
a pawn in his game.

	Ryoko at last focused on him, noticing his hand upon her for 
the first time. “No!”, she shouted in angry denial, wrenching her 
arm from his grasp. “No!”
 
	A moment of tension followed as Yosho watched a quick 
succession of emotions race across her face. It was like a window 
into her soul, she didn’t seem to be able to control her reactions. 
As if aware of her exposure, Ryoko quickly turned her face from 
him. But not before he recognized the expression that had darkened 
her face, it could only have been shame. “...Yes.”, the girl 
suddenly muttered. 

	“Yes?”, he asked, confused. “Yes, what?

	“Yes, it felt good!”, Ryoko screamed, rounding on him. Yosho 
reeled back as if he’d been physically struck, his mouth dropped 
open in incredulity. “Those things I did, those were the only 
times I EVER felt good!” Yosho sat in shock while cyan haired 
girl vented her anger on him. Ryoko’s face became a mask of pain 
and revulsion as she continued to wildly rant. 
	“Don’t you understand?! The only way I could ever feel 
pleasure was to destroy!”, she exclaimed, her voice breaking, 
tears streaming down her face. “It was the only pleasure he left 
me with, so I learned to like it! I had to!” Yosho brought his 
hand up catching hold of her wrist, their eyes met. 

	“Oh my God, Ryoko...”, he muttered. 

	She turned from him, from the pity, the horror that she saw 
in his face. Ryoko did not free herself from his grasp this time. 
Strangely she seem to draw strength from his contact, her onetime 
mortal enemy. She found the will to admit her darkest secret. A 
secret Ryoko had never wanted to admit, even to herself
	
	“...I learned to love it!”, she whispered, her voice choked 
with anguish.




	The trip home was a sullen affair for Miyana. The image of 
Ryoko, aflame with strange power, still haunted her. To see her 
friend transformed so, had been as confusing as it had been 
frightening. Her grandfather walked along beside her quietly lost 
in thought, as the miles rolled by. Miyana looked up at him, 
breaking the uneasy silence.
	
	“Ryoko’s not... human.”, the girl said evenly, gazing up at 
the old man. “Is she, Grandfather?”

	The priest turned to regard his granddaughter. He couldn’t 
help but feel pride at the girl’s poise, there was not a trace of 
fear remaining in her voice. “No.”, he replied. “I guess she isn’t.” 
	
	Miyana took this admission quietly, turning her gaze back 
to the road ahead. Their footfalls beat out a stead rhythm as 
her grandfather’s staff tapped in sharp counterpoint. Miyana’s 
eyes fell to the basket in her hand, wondering about the creature 
that had possessed it so recently. 

	“What is she then?”, she asked reasonably, glancing back to 
him. Hatori continued to walk, his unreadable gaze fixed firmly 
ahead.

	“I’m not entirely sure, Miyana.” At a loss, he lapsed into 
silence. It was several minutes before she replied.

	“Maybe I should ask her...”



	In the flooded fields bordering the road a group of women 
worked tending the maturing rice. Even under the best of 
conditions working the paddies was hard. It was an unusually hot 
day for fall and sweat beaded on every brow. A woman paused from 
her chores. With a sigh she stood, removing her hat. Wiping the 
perspiration from face with her forearm she glanced out at the 
road. She just caught the glimpse of an old man and a child as 
they stepped from view, vanishing into the shade of the trees that 
obscured the road at the end of the fields. How she envied them 
that cooling shade, but there were still several hours of daylight 
left and much left to be done. Another figure emerged from the 
trees, he was traveling in the same direction as the previous 
couple. The woman was about to return to her work when something 
drew her attention to the stranger. There was something about the 
way he moved, something cat-like. As if supernaturally aware of 
her watching eyes he turned suddenly, locking gazes with her. The 
man’s eyes narrowed.



	Bachiatari had no soul. That was what people said, anyway. 
As he walked the shadows of the treeline gave way to dappled 
sunlight. Fields stretched away from the road, fields filled with 
the slaves-of-the-earth. He took another bite of the pear in his 
hand, as he looked out in loathing. He could picture a small boy, 
dressed in rags, dutifully following his mother as she toiled. 
The image was so clear now. The flys, the heat, the leeches that 
prowled and clung, sucking blood. The woman slowly dying as her 
life was sapped away. Sapped by the earth as if it were a leech 
itself, drawing sustenance from her to feed the fields, sucking 
the life from her. How she aged, so quickly, her beauty fading. 
And always the fields wanted more. Bachiatari grit his teeth in 
disgust, and clenched his eyes to exorcise the memory. His 
chiseled perception snapped back, he had allowed his mind to 
wander. His hair stood on end as the preternatural senses he 
had honed over a lifetime warned him, he was being watched. In 
an instant, with the unfailing accuracy of fate, his eye homed 
in on the target. His throwing arm tensed as he reined in his 
reactions. A woman stood in the paddy looking back at him knee 
deep in water, her kimono tied up, her face streaked with sweat. 
The woman’s eyes wavered. He realized that she knew she was 
looking into the eyes of death. Had she once been beautiful too, 
he wondered. His arm relaxed. Bachiatari knew her fate, he had 
seen it all before. With a scowl, and a contemptuous flick of 
his wrist he tossed the core of the half eaten pear into the 
water before her. He had to hurry he didn't want to lose sight 
of the old man and the girl. Bachiatari had no soul, but then 
again, he had no need of one.



                        (more to come)
	



 

	

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