Shattered Mirror Mended
By Blizzard Yamasu (amichan_2000@yahoo.com)


	A genius such as Washu herself didn't have time to think 
about family problems-not that Washu had a family to speak of. 
Yes, there was the Masaki household-they were on the top of her 
list of values-but no matter how much kindness they directed 
towards her, she could not feel an infinite bond with them as she 
might have felt, or might have developed, with family.
	She loved every member of the Masaki household, and would 
have done anything within her power to protect them-any of them-
perhaps even at the cost of her own life. But she considered them 
friends-all of them, down to the blue-haired, energetic eight-
year-old who called herself Sasami. Only friends.
	Then there was the enigmatic case of the demonic space 
pirate, the female oni, Ryoko.
	Ryoko was not the birth-child of Washu-no, Washu had created 
Ryoko using one of her own egg cells and a living filler element 
called the Mass. A half-parent, considerably, Washu was linked to 
Ryoko through the mind and even a bit more when physical features 
came into play. Similarities between them were noticeable in some 
ways-the narrowed eyes that reflected cunning and intelligence; 
the slightly oblong ear shape; the spiked, wildly colored hair-
though the resemblance was not only skin-deep.
	While Ryoko used her stubbornness, perseverance, and 
incredibly short temper in frivolous attempts to win the Juraian 
prince addressed as Tenchi Masaki, Washu kept a cool head and 
opted for the world of physics and clean-cut edges, hence Ryoko's 
"birth."
	The aforementioned scientist was, at the moment, bent over an 
array of wires, dials, and flashing icons. Her fingers hit the 
icons with such precision and speed it was unnerving; occasionally 
a wrist would flicker forth and brush a dial. The wires she kept 
mostly between her teeth-those were bared in a determined half-
snarl, for her current experiment was not going at all the way she 
had originally planned, and that had the tendency to irritate her 
a bit.
	All right, so it had the tendency to irritate her more than 
most would think. 
	Washu, the greatest scientist within and throughout the 
entire universe-please note that this was a proven fact-did not 
like it when an intricate and abstruse tangle of compounds laughed 
in her face.
	Literally.
	Washu hissed at herself angrily. She slammed her index finger 
into a final icon, then drew back slightly, awaiting the results. 
For a few seconds, much to her disappointment, it seemed like 
nothing would happen.
	PUH-BOOM!!
	Washu was thrown back as the coil of wires on the table 
before her exploded--thankfully, they were not connected to the 
ones she already held. Black smoke instantly engulfed her small 
form and her laboratory; overhead vents began to suck out the 
smoke on an unspoken order, but not in time to save Washu from a 
serious fit of coughing.
	 Having landed on her hands and knees, Washu gave a 
spluttering choke and shoved herself to her feet. She swayed 
unsteadily and her vision wavered for a moment, but being the 
great scientist that she was, Washu managed a weak "Victory" sign 
to no one in particular.
	"Ha!" she crowed, proudly surveying the glowing orb hovering 
in the air just above her completely demolished workstation. "I 
did it! Solar Energy, harnessed and usable for any purpose!" Washu 
beamed and mentally congratulated herself. "Wait," a puzzled frown 
graced her lips, "the human race isn't ready for such a giant 
step-up, is it?"
	The reddish-pink-haired scientist turned, her eyes half-
closed in contemplation of what to do with her latest creation. 
No, she decided, the human race wouldn't know what to do with 
Solar Energy--much less Solar Energy that happened to have a fancy 
for exploding when it was called upon.
	I suppose now is as good a time as any to explain Washu--she 
is the main character of this story--and I will begin by saying 
that not many things went past her without a thorough examination, 
whether the examination was physical or whether it wasn't. She 
kept the body of a thirteen or twelve-year-old girl, though her 
age was well past twenty thousand years, as was her level of 
intelligence. Her height was roughly four feet, four inches; the 
color of her hair another mystery altogether--generally referred 
to as a pinkish or a reddish-pink out of confusion. This 
collection of hair she kept within the limits of a purple ribbon, 
and the ribbon was long enough so that either end reached to the 
back of her leg where her knee crooked inward. Behind and beside 
the ribbon fifteen spikes or more of hair stood erect--there was 
no use of gel and everyone tended to wonder how it stayed that 
way. Her eyes were shockingly green--one had yet to hold her gaze 
for over five seconds.
	Washu did not wear a crisp white lab coat while she worked--
in fact, her choice of attire was quite demonstrative of her 
casual personality. Her current outfit consisted of a tee-shirt 
the same color as her ribbon, or perhaps it was a few shades 
darker, a pair of white shorts, and tan sandals. As for her casual 
personality: such was true, for in actuality, she was a goddess, 
and a powerful goddess at that, but she did not care to rule the 
galaxy or enslave any race. She preferred spending her time in her 
lab or with the members of the Masaki household.
	Which brings the story abruptly back to Ryoko.
	Ryoko avoided Washu whenever she could, and if an order was 
given, she only obeyed it for one reason, such the reason being 
that Washu could make her do it forcefully anyway--even if it had 
already been established that Washu didn't perform something along 
those lines without permission.
	A demon by every right, Ryoko sported hair quite similar to 
Washu's, save that it was a pale blue and had yet to be introduced 
to cosmetics. Her eyes sparkled a vibrant amber and her height was 
fair; her ears, as stated above, were strangely oblong in shape 
and bent inward when she was angry or highly excited. A deadly 
temper and even deadlier potential, it was a rarity when one was 
able to talk of Tenchi and not gain an ugly bruise (or three) 
anywhere Ryoko saw fit.
	"Here we go!" Washu exclaimed cheerfully, depositing the 
crackling sphere of energy into a transparent, domed container. 
The sphere instantly lost its form and slammed itself into the 
side of the container; it seemed to be seething in silent fury. 
"None of that now," Washu scolded. She smirked and leaned in 
close; her cheek was almost touching the wall of her creation's 
prison. "Would you rather me expose you to Mihoshi?"
	The energy reeled back and commenced to collapsing in on 
itself again and again--Washu took its actions as a definite "no." 
The scientist grinned and pulled away. Though it was doubtful the 
energy had a mind comparable to that of a sentient creature, there 
was the possibly of it having developed the ability to think for 
itself. And even if it hadn't yet met Mihoshi, it knew if Washu 
was using her as a threat, she had to be horrible.
	Washu turned and made her way to her gigantic computer 
console, taking small steps and quietly glancing about her lab. It 
was extremely wide, and here and there sprigs of grass and other 
various types of plant life were springing up from between the 
tiles on the floor. She'd designed everything that way--Washu 
enjoyed science, yes, but she did not take well to confinement.
	A sudden wrenching at the back of her mind made Washu freeze 
in mid-stride, the hairs on the lower part of her scalp taking the 
opportunity to stand on end. The wrenching increased dramatically 
with every passing moment; Washu found it harder and harder to 
breathe. "Wha-?" she attempted, but the last bit of her plea was 
lost to a scream that echoed savagely through every room and every 
ear within a two-mile radius.
	In the kitchen, Sasami dropped the spoon she'd been stirring 
the soup with and made a mad dash for the broom closet that led to 
Washu's laboratory, mentally checking things off her 'What Happens 
to Upset Washu' list. No smoke, no fires, no section of the roof 
missing, she confirmed. Mind whirling, she flung open the broom 
closet door and stepped into the alternate dimension belonging to 
Washu, prepared to deal with anything and everything.
	Aside from the sight of the pink-haired scientist draped over 
her chair, visibly unconscious.
	"Little Washu?" Sasami called tentatively, all the while 
approaching Washu with a hand extended. The hand eventually came 
to rest upon an immobile shoulder--that shoulder Sasami shook 
vigorously, tears pricking the corners of her eyes like needles. 
"Little Washu!" she demanded. "Little Washu, wake up!"
	Washu responded with something between a groan and a hiss, 
her shoulder twitching spasmodically. Sasami gave a short cry of 
relief and pulled the older woman into her lap, looking up as the 
sound of footsteps--quick footsteps--reached her ears.
	Tenchi Masaki, Juraian Princess Ayeka, and Galaxy Police 
Officer Mihoshi all tried to squeeze through the broom closet door 
at the same time, each with expressions of panic etched on their 
features.
	"What happened here, Sasami?" gasped Tenchi when he finally 
was able to rid himself of the foot Mihoshi had accidentally 
planted in his stomach. Sasami just shook her head dazedly--her 
eyes were wide, her mouth open as if to say something, when Washu 
herself answered Tenchi.
	"Ryoko."
	The room held its collective breath. Tenchi released that 
breath with the oh-so-intelligent reply of, "Huh?"
	Washu opened her eyes and stared blearily at the people 
gathered around her. How could not a one of them understand? she 
wondered, placing a hand on the floor to push herself up. It gave 
way, however, and the scientist found herself supported by small 
arms.
	"Tell us what's wrong, Little Washu!" Sasami insisted. "Did 
an experiment backfire? Was Ryoko involved?"
	"No. Ryoko... where is she?" Washu's voice increased in 
pitch. "Where's Ryoko!?"
	"She's been gone ever since this morning, Little Washu," 
Mihoshi answered. 
	Washu moaned softly. Her eyes, the lids drooping, crossed, 
and she was again completely supported by Sasami.
	"Tenchi."
	"Little Washu?"
	"Find Ryoko. Now."
                         
?

	Washu twiddled her chopsticks anxiously, her gaze traveling 
to the kitchen entrance for the umpteenth time-or so it seemed. It 
was completely out of her character for her to be worried about 
Ryoko, but. 
	"Little Washu?"
	"Hm?" Washu turned her head and allowed her gaze to rest on 
the source of the question. She smiled. "Yes, Sasami?"
	"There's something wrong with Ryoko, isn't there?" Sasami 
asked softly. Washu blinked-Sasami could sense her worry, or was 
it that obvious? The girl in question lifted her head, crimson 
eyes blazing. "Tell us, Little Washu! What happened earlier 
today!?"
	Washu sucked in a breath. None of them understand, her mind 
confirmed gently. But really, you didn't expect them to, did you?
	"Yes," Washu answered.
	"Eh?" was the collective response.
	"Yes," the scientist whispered, "something is wrong with 
Ryoko. But what it is, I have no idea."
	Sasami's shoulders drooped-in a sense, Ryoko was like her 
(vicious) big sister. Ayeka simply placed her hands in her lap and 
avoided everyone's eyes. No, the Juraian Princess was not all that 
fond of Ryoko, but though she would never admit it to anyone, she 
would miss the demon.
	She smirked.
	If Ryoko turned up missing, anyway.
	At such a moment, there was a flash of lightning from a 
looming thunderhead outside. As the lightning passed Washu sat 
bolt-upright, her eyes thin slits against the remaining glare. The 
wrenching had returned again; this time with something new.
	Utter terror.
	Ryoko-a person who was very hard to scare indeed-was 
absolutely, positively terrified.
	Washu bit back another scream and instead focused on snapping 
her chopsticks in two. This quite un-Washu-like action brought 
every eye and ear in the room upon her; questioning, wondering.
	"Please. Stop." Washu gritted her teeth, squeezing her eyes 
shut. "This is hard enough without everyone staring at me. So 
please, stop it."
	"What's hard, Little Washu?" A woman with long blue-green 
hair stepped through the door and removed her coat. "Hello 
everyone! It's raining really hard out there-"
	But before Kiyone was able to finish her sentence, a small 
reddish blur grabbed her shoulders and allowed the back of her 
head to personally meet the floor.
	"Kiyone, have you seen Ryoko? Is she with you?"
	"Ow."
	"Kiyone! Answer me!" Washu growled and shook the woman 
mercilessly.
	THUMP-THUD-THUMP.
	"Eh. Lit'le Wa'u, why are there t'ree of you?" Kiyone 
slurred. She raised her head and looked around, trying to sort out 
what her vision claimed was real. 
	 "I don't care if there are fifteen of me! Do you know where 
Ryoko is or not!?"
	A quick vibration passed through the walls-Washu dropped 
Kiyone immediately and was on her feet, the pieces of her broken 
chopsticks drawn to her chest. After what seemed like an eternity, 
Tenchi dragged himself into the kitchen.
	His dark brown eyes were nearly closed, hiding the emotions 
roiling within them; hair mussed and thrown into tangles; arms 
wrapped protectively around a soggy, multicolored bundle of cloth.
	"This is what's left," Tenchi began, "but that doesn't 
necessarily mean you can't fix her, right, Little Washu?" He 
smiled hopefully, ignoring the gasp that rose from the collection 
of alien women behind the blinking scientist.
	Washu approached the water-logged boy with a hooded gaze-she 
expected the worst. An arm? Maybe only a gem? her weary mind 
questioned.
	The bundle coughed, shivered, and sneezed.
	Whatever Washu had been thinking, it came to an abrupt halt. 
The chopsticks fell from her grasp-her jaw followed suit.
	A sagging blue spike emerged from between two folds somewhere 
on the bundle-but it couldn't possibly be Ryoko! Ryoko was.
	There was a loud wail, and again Washu was left with a moment 
of utter 'thoughtlessness'. But by the end of the wail, the bundle 
had been swiped from Tenchi's arms, unfolded, and brought face to 
face with a certain goddess.
	Emerald eyes met amber ones.
	The terror that had been residing within Washu melted away so 
quickly it left the scientist reeling, though it was evident she 
was already shaken beyond belief.
	"Ryoko?" Washu whispered, lowering her arms and pulling the 
child close to her body. Her chin dropped to rest amidst a small 
forest of cyan spikes; her eyes were wide and devoid of any 
emotion whatsoever. "Ryoko?" she whispered again, the note of 
disbelief in her voice obvious to all.
	The child-age two at the most, she looked-was contentedly 
sucking on her knuckle and gazing up at Washu, her tiny brow 
furrowed in utmost concentration. Her mind, though slow to relay 
information, did know that the green-eyed being she was engaged in 
a staring contest with would keep the bright sky-strike away. It 
also knew, without really much consideration, that the green-eyed 
being was her mother.
	Washu swallowed with difficulty, blinking once, twice, three 
times, before realizing that a child so young, Ryoko or not, 
wasn't meant to remain in wet clothes while exposed to air-
conditioning. Frowning, Washu turned to Tenchi, uttered a small 
word of thanks, and then walked towards her lab.

?

	An hour later and the situation-if you could call it a 
situation-had decided upon a new tangent-if you could call the 
rather amusing events taking place a tangent.
	Ryoko, clad in an outfit that looked very much like an 
oversized yarn sock, was having great fun with a rather annoyed 
Washu-bot. She gurgled happily and pulled its hair, causing it to 
squawk in protest. A quick flip of her wrist and it would've been 
over for the 'bot, but Ryoko no longer demonstrated hatred towards 
it, nor malice; the tiny replica of Washu might have said 
otherwise.
	Washu herself was typing furiously at her transparent 
console, the lower half of a sandwich protruding from between her 
lips. With a sharp clamping of teeth and a monstrous gulp, the 
sandwich vanished. "Impossible," she mumbled, her eyes fixed 
intently, hungrily, on the screen and the various diagrams 
displayed there. "Impossible," she said again, canines bared. 
"This does not make sense! One year, eight months-that's how old 
it says she is! No memory of past events, nor future. this is 
Ryoko." Washu's upper body sagged and she found her face pressed 
against the flickering keys. With a great sigh she rolled her 
shoulders, tossed a ribbon end from her forehead, and stood.
	"Eh!!" Ryoko cried when she released the 'bot and it sped 
away. She chased after it as fast as her short legs would permit, 
stopping only when she collided with Washu-more accurately, 
Washu's ankle.
	"Now, are you in pursuit of my little toys?" Washu asked, 
smiling as the 'bot ducked behind her console. She looked down at 
Ryoko. "May I borrow your finger for a moment?"
	"Mmm." Ryoko obediently held out her hand with her fingers 
spaced widely apart, returning her mother's smile. Washu clipped a 
small device to it-reaching to barely below her cuticle, the 
device had been invented by Washu herself to check for 
abnormalities in the physical stature that would perhaps be missed 
by any other type of examination.
	A moment later and the device beeped, signaling an end to the 
short wait. Washu then plugged the device into her console and 
tapped a multitude of keys within the span of fifteen seconds.
	"All right. everything seems to be." Washu paused as a new 
window displayed itself on the screen. ".in order."
	Ryoko craned her neck and tried to catch a glimpse of 
whatever her mother was so diligently studying. She stood on her 
tiptoes; stretched until she could stretch no more, so just, but 
being as short as she now was, not even the bottom of the monitor 
reached her vision. Emitting a small mew of frustration, Ryoko 
tumbled backwards and proceeded to wail.
	Washu stared at the child for a moment, unsure-for the first 
time in her life on the issue of children-of what she should do 
next. Ryoko is Ryoko; a baby is a baby, her mind pressed. A 
combination of the two was most unexpected, yes-you are a 
scientist and you thrive on such things, now don't you?
	Ryoko shivered and loosed another wail.
	"Ahh. none of that!" Washu managed. She went down on one knee 
and pulled the now sobbing Ryoko to her, wiping the tears from her 
cheeks with a deft hand. "Little Ryoko, it's all right."
	Ryoko kept her face hidden from view.
	"Come on now, look at me." Washu tilted Ryoko's chin upwards 
and they were eye-to-eye again-though this time the amber end was 
glazed. Washu pursed her lips and pretended to look hurt. "What 
kind of staring contest is this supposed to be, hm? I heard you 
were a worthy opponent, but I guess everyone was wrong."
	Ryoko soon forgot her tears as her mother continued on-when 
said or the truth was stated, Ryoko forgot everything but the 
woman in front of her. The fluent words were beautiful, though 
barely understood, if understood at all; Ryoko couldn't have 
cared. To speak like that. to be able to respond so quickly.
	Ryoko felt that at a certain point, she could have done so.
			
			?

	Washu yawned and grinned-a gentle grin when compared to 
others. She gazed down at the curled figure of the infant oni in 
her lap-infant in her demon form; in her body, no. In her body she 
was but a toddler, a toddler Washu regretted having ever set eyes 
on.
	The child Ryoko was different from the teenage Ryoko by looks 
as well as mental standards, though one could guess that from a 
simple glance. Washu sighed and absently brushed a spike from 
Ryoko's brow, ignoring her mind's constant urges to 'study and 
examine the new anomaly.'
	"I will not invade my daughter's privacy like I might have 
done so long ago," Washu whispered to herself. She observed 
Ryoko's peaceful face, relaxed in slumber-that image she wished to 
remember for as long as her essence still meant something to the 
Earth. A grin again spread across her lips.
	Normally, Ryoko snored horribly while sleeping-it was enough 
to rival even Mihoshi's and Nobuyuki's coughing gasps.
	And this image was unmarked by all of that.
	Washu turned her gaze heavenward, her lightning-quick 
thoughts beginning to slow down. The simulated atmosphere, now 
fashioned for a cool nighttime sky, seemed perfect for sleeping 
under and in. Yawning, Washu tapped out a well-known sequence to 
the keys, this time adding an extra character. Two futons 
materialized before the console-the same went for attire, as the 
both of them were now dressed suitably for bed.
	Washu pulled back the blanket on the smaller futon and gently 
settled Ryoko within it, replacing the blanket as quickly as it 
had been removed. She performed the same ritual for herself-quiet, 
quick, easy-finally heaving another sigh and turning to face her 
daughter. Her movements had been gentle enough not to wake the 
sleeping oni.
	Closing her eyes, Washu wondered for perhaps the thousandth 
time that hour how such an event had come to pass. Nearly full 
grown demon women did not suddenly disappear and then reappear 
again as children every day, she knew, and the chances of it 
happening to Ryoko had been slimmer than those of a squash 
sprouting wings and becoming airborne.
	"Whatever it was," Washu breathed, willing sleep to her 
dulled senses, "I'm not going to complain."
**

	Sasami grinned over her rice bowl at her elder sister Ayeka, 
who was, at the time, burning a hole through Washu's lab door with 
an anxious crimson gaze.
	"Ayeka, it's almost time for breakfast," she said softly. Her 
sister blinked for a moment and nodded. "Could you. go tell Little 
Washu and Ryoko? I'm sure they'd appreciate it."
	"Yes," was the only response Ayeka gave. In a flurry of 
velvet hair and flashing eyes she passed Sasami-the young girl 
could merely smile and continue her work, for she was not one who 
would tell someone's secret, whether the secret was deliberately 
shown to her or not.
	If Ayeka wanted her true feelings of worry and friendship 
towards Ryoko to stay hidden, then Sasami would see to it that 
they were.
	Ayeka rapped sharply on the broom closet door twice-the 
familiar sensation of her body being broken up into tiny segments 
and then pieced together again was rather brief this particular 
morning, she noticed. She wrinkled her nose as the extremely fresh 
air of the lab reached her nasal cavities; even after two years of 
living within the boundaries of Masaki territory the scent was 
still virtually alien to her.
	A quick glance and Ayeka took a step forward, her eyes 
rolling upward, sideways, every-which-way, trying to locate some 
sign of either Washu, Ryoko, or perhaps the both of them together. 
A few more steps and she caught sight of something that made her 
heart leap into her throat.
	Two futons had been rolled out on the grass before Washu's 
mechanically humming console, and of course, Ayeka had expected 
one person to be on either of the said items.
	But no-Washu was completely visible, her blanket having been 
kicked off sometime during the night; her mouth opened very 
slightly to release occasional whimpers and soft snores. She was 
exactly where she was meant to sleep. Ryoko, ever the delinquent, 
you could say, had completely discarded her own bedding material 
and latched onto Washu, her face buried in the sleeping 
scientist's shoulder.
	Please note that none of the aforementioned scene would have 
been considered strange if Washu hadn't been the owner of the most 
brilliant mind in the universe; state the same for Ryoko-if she 
hadn't been (formerly) recognized at a flirtatious demon and an 
ex-space pirate, nothing would have mattered.
	Ayeka felt a convulsive shudder run through her body as she 
observed the mother goddess and the daughter oni. Her lips parted-
before words could be summoned, however, a blanket was thrown into 
the air and the face of a certain subject of her displeasure was 
in line with her own.
	Narrowed, golden, feline eyes.
	Wide, amethyst, royal eyes.
	"Gah." Ayeka fumbled in her speech. Ryoko was merely inches 
from her, hovering in midair-still attached to a slumbering Washu, 
of course. She'd obviously retained the ability to move objects 
with telekinesis; in the action of moving those objects it seemed 
as though she was able to lift more than her own body-weight.  
	A short cry was uttered as Ryoko lost her concentration and 
Washu slipped from her grasp.
	Or. lifting something within a certain range for only a few 
seconds? Was that it?
	Ayeka reacted, yes-she threw out her arms and caught Washu 
before she could hit the floor. This meant catching Ryoko as well; 
if the child had viewed her before with any emotion besides 
admiration, it was instantly wiped away.
	Washu mumbled something incoherent and turned her face back 
into her pillow; half-asleep and eyes closed, she didn't realize 
that her pillow had suddenly transformed into Ayeka's bosom. 
Ayeka, naturally, began to splutter and go very red in the face-
this caused Washu to finally yawn, stretch, and look exactly where 
she'd placed herself.
	Washu did the only thing she could see sensible: She screamed 
with every fiber of her being and gained a blush that could peel 
paint.
	Ayeka screamed as well, throwing Washu vehemently to the 
floor, her fingers twitching. "How dare you, Miss Washu!" she 
accused. "You never said anything. never."
	"Ayeka, calm down, it was a mistake!" Washu wheezed, pushing 
Ryoko off of her chest. She had taken the fall for the both of 
them-this added a shortage of breath and a good deal of pain near 
her lower backside.
	She winced as she pulled herself into a sitting position and 
then to wobbly knees-such a fall shouldn't have weakened me so, or 
maybe it should've? she thought, but her worries were dismissed as 
Ryoko nuzzled into her shoulder for still more sleep.
	"All right, little one, it's time to wake up," she coaxed. 
Ryoko eye's fluttered open again. "There we go! Did you say hello 
to Ayeka, hm?" Ryoko giggled and clapped her hands. "Ah, you did! 
Good!"
	Ayeka, puzzled, listened to the conversation with an intent 
ear. Her rival never spent a word on Washu, yet the scientist 
spoke to her as if she were of equal intellect. I think this is 
what Washu always wanted, Ayeka concluded, seeing the intensely 
happy expression framing Washu's normally impassive features. She 
smiled.
	And Ryoko?
	Ryoko was now allowed to be the child she'd never had the 
chance to uncover-it emerged on occasion, yes, but for so long it 
had been buried underneath a mountain of defenses and strength. 
How much time had passed? Ayeka mused-years, months, weeks, days, 
hours, minutes seconds-oblivion; infinity; eternity?
	Lost in her thoughts, Ayeka almost missed it when Ryoko threw 
a small arm around her mother's neck and gave her a good morning 
peck on the cheek; but one would've had to have been blind to look 
over the glowing of Washu's eyes.
	How much time had passed, Ayeka wondered, since either of 
them had been so happy?
**

	Ryoko hissed at her chopsticks angrily, or perhaps the hiss 
was meant for her fingers-who could know? Nevertheless, something 
was annoying her; the annoyance most assuredly being that she had 
been trying (without success) for twenty minutes to get a bite of 
food into her mouth.
	 "Mmm." she mumbled distressfully. A word was what she 
needed, she decided. She looked around the table; the only person 
paying her any attention at all was Ayeka. Her mother had 
disappeared for a moment-this did not bother her. If she wasn't 
away for too long, Ryoko concluded thoughtfully, then there wasn't 
a reason for her to be bothered by an absence.
	So, determined to show that she needed help without either 
crying or spilling rice everywhere, Ryoko fixed her gaze on Ayeka 
and attempted to do what her mother could so easily.
	"Aye." Her brow wrinkled in concentration, Ryoko tried once 
more. "Ayek."
	"Good morning, and this time, I mean it truly!" Washu said, 
appearing before the table. Ryoko momentarily forgot her tries at 
speech towards Ayeka and sailed over the heads of everyone 
present, landing in Washu's arms.
	"Mama," she proclaimed, her small voice strong against even 
the shick of wood scraping porcelain.
	Silence.
	Well, albeit the squishing sound of Mihoshi chewing a 
mouthful of rice, for nothing could distract her when it came to 
eating.
	Washu promptly staggered backwards a bit, lips pursed 
inquisitively. "Pardon?" she said.
	"Mama," Ryoko repeated. She swiveled to point at her plate 
and its uneaten contents, but her mother, she realized a moment 
later, would be of no help.
	Washu was of no help to anyone unconscious.

			?

	Three days.
	Washu propped her elbow on the table and watched her daughter 
scamper back and forth across the yard, the lake stretching out 
before her small feet. Ryoko laughed, her fingers wrapped around 
the edge of a crisp white sheet, running as fast as she could 
possibly go.
	Ayeka labored after her, a pile a of clothing articles 
weighing down her arms. She screeched obscenities and death 
threats at the child, but, as anyone could have easily seen, she 
meant not a word of it.
	"Ooh! Miss Ryoko, I just hung that!! Give it back, give it 
back!!!"
	"Ayeka run!! Ayeka run!!"
	Ayeka's foot caught on a rock or some other type of lower 
piece of matter; the result was a sheet suddenly wrapped around 
her midsection and the ground almost instantly becoming a simple 
brown smudge.
	Washu felt her heart flutter warningly in response to her 
daughter and Ayeka's take-off, but quickly dismissed her worries. 
She willed herself to be still, to just watch, but.
	"Oh Miss Ayeka! Miss Ryoko!"
	Washu's restraints dissolved into nothing and she grumpily 
gave her attention to the blonde-haired woman standing in the 
doorway-Mihoshi interrupted everything, even her own mental 
struggles. "It's all right, Mihoshi," Washu assured, "Ryoko can 
take care of herself and Ayeka."
	Mihoshi put a long-nailed finger to her lip and chewed it 
nervously for a moment. "But-"
	"Dinner's ready!!"
	"Ooh!" Mihoshi whirled and sped into the kitchen to help 
Sasami with the plates, while Washu kept her eyes glued to the 
sky. So she'd been wrong, her worries for Ryoko and Ayeka had not 
disappeared completely yet.
	Will they ever? she wondered.
	Only three days since the original Ryoko's appearance and 
Washu was already succumbing to her will.
**

	Even with the assurance of Azaka and Kamidake leaping to obey 
her every wish, Ayeka tucked both arms in as tightly as she could 
and bit her lips from the inside, trying to keep whatever contents 
her stomach contained from suddenly lurching upward and out. The 
sheet-and Ryoko-were the only things preventing her unfortunate 
demise; not that she thought Ryoko would actually (willingly) 
become the cause of it.
	"Miss Ryoko." she whispered, but her whisper was swept away 
by the winds blowing so fiercely at her altitude. Ryoko whooped 
childishly and swung the sheet-meaning she swung Ayeka as well-
with her heels now pointing towards the ground.
	"Ayeka swim!"
	"Ayeka WHAT!?" the princess squeaked.
	Ryoko gave another whoop and plummeted headlong into the 
lake, dragging a struggling princess in along with her. Ayeka 
swallowed a mouthful of water and gagged, her eyes bulging.
	Can't breathe.
	"MISS RYOKO!!" Ayeka attempted, but her words came out as a 
few large bubbles. She watched them float to the surface from 
within a blackening and detached mind.
	I never was that good of a swimmer.
	<Ayeka-sister, stay awake!>
	Ayeka's premonitions of death wavered for a moment. What? she 
thought in confusion.
	<Ayeka-sister, just wait; stay awake! I wanna show you, I 
wanna->
	Ayeka was, very abruptly, aboard the bridge of the Ryo-oh-ki. 
A triangular prism appeared before Ayeka and mewed a greeting, 
then was gone. She looked around, dazed, and her eyes finally 
focused on the soaking wet child that was Ryoko. She was dancing-
or the author supposes she was dancing-in a mixture of odd steps 
and leaps, her loose hair flying out like whips behind her.
	"Did it!! Did it!!"
	Ayeka remained nonplused. "Did what, Miss Ryoko? If it 
involves nearly drowning me, then yes, I will agree."
	Ryoko, having not mastered speech yet, pointed to Ryo-oh-ki's 
crystal floor and then to herself. "Made it here! Myself! With 
Ayeka-sister!"
	" 'Ayeka-sister?' "
	Ryoko made a face-for it was painfully obvious-and grabbed 
the hem of Ayeka's ceremonial kimono. "With Ayeka-sister. Ayeka."

			?

	"T-Continuum disturbance confirmed. Strands crossing at 9:59 
p.m. affirmative; Tuesday evening." Washu clicked her teeth over 
her cup of ramen. "At the exact same time I blacked out."
	A new message flashed and died instantaneously upon the 
screen, but it could not evade Washu's lightning quick senses.
	"Oh DAMN!!" she roared, flying back from the console and 
throwing the ebony black cup to the floor in disgust. Noodles 
splashed over the tiles and grass; Washu, however, did not even 
summon a droid to clean the mess. Anger began to cloud her 
normally sharp mind-what had happened to change her mood so 
quickly?
	Washu, the greatest scientist within and throughout the 
entire universe-please note that this was a proven fact-did not 
like it when an intricate and abstruse tangle of compounds laughed 
in her face.
	Literally.
	Though this time, Washu grudgingly admitted to herself, 
there's a glaring difference. Her lips moved very, very slowly, as 
if hesitant to say the word-she did not know why she wanted to say 
it, for she did not know the meaning. But it did come; oh, how she 
regretted deciding upon this route of study-there was another 
roar, and it echoed off of every metal and liquid surface just out 
of range of the scientist:
	"TOKIMI!!"
**

	Far away, on the surface of the planet called Jurai, a being 
hid her pale, tear-stained face behind her wiry, long-fingered 
hands. Her shoulders trembled with mute sobs;--Both of them have 
realized it, she thought, both of them.
	Tsunami suddenly wrenched her chin upward until it pointed 
towards the heavens she could so easily dominate, a raspy cry 
escaping her throat before she collapsed, more than her shoulders 
trembling now.
	Jurai wept with her-the Goddess devoted to the Light.
	"My sisters," she whispered hoarsely. Her hands, leaving her 
face, traveled to hover in midair, in the direction of the Earth 
and the one she could call for help.
	But her eyes closed; and when the Goddess sleeps, empires 
fall. Worlds die. Stars explode-born again to recreate the empires 
and the worlds that were destroyed beforehand.
	Tsunami, Goddess of the Light, slept.
**

	#Master Yume, communications link open. Incoming 
transmission,# the computer grated, its many sensors glowing a 
bright, foreboding red. #Structure of base normal; location: MW 
Galaxy.#
	A white-furred ear flicked in mild irritation.
	"Yes."
	#Transmission labeled 'Urgent'.#
	The other ear flicked.
	"Computer, I did not ask what the transmission was labeled." 
A lip rose to expose a gleaming fang. "Purge transmission; delete 
user."
	#User unknown.#
	A hand slipped; a droplet of well-accustomed red liquid 
spilled from under the recently torn flesh and slid down a lightly 
furred arm.
	There was a curse.
	"Computer." The voice was low and sounded almost seductive. 
"Bring transmission online. I want to hurt the person who so needs 
my attention."
	#Yes, Master Yume.#
	Master Yume, eyes narrowed and fixed on the blurred screen, 
absently stroked the thin cut with an unsheathed claw. It had been 
a long time since she'd injured herself-she'd never been able to 
ignore distractions. She permitted herself one glance at the 
scalpel that lay unattended next to her foot.
	"I'll see to it. I'll see to it that the one who is the cause 
of this incident suffers." Yume paused, then continued with, "And 
suffers greatly."
	Yume was from a planet that had long ago met its maker-the 
natives were few and dwindling in number, but she did not care to 
search for any of them. She stood perhaps four feet, five inches; 
her hair looked as if it had been cut short at a young age and 
never allowed to grow again, and being a murky brown, it also 
resembled a hunk of something that was known in the MW Galaxy as 
chocolate. Her ears, able to rotate and twitch of their own will, 
were long, covered in a thin layer of short whitish fur, and had 
been groomed to fine, perfect points.
	Her eyes-no mortal had survived a staring contest with Yume, 
as when they were close enough to actually meet her gaze, they 
were either already dead or something close to it-had again long 
ago phased towards the color of honey; so cold they could be.
	Fangs peeked from under her upper lip. Her shoulders were 
broader than those of many humans-but then, she wasn't human-and 
draped over them was a blue, yellow, and dimly black cloak, a 
cloak that sometimes swept the tops of her feet. Exposed flesh 
anywhere was dressed with the same fur as her ears; from a 
distance it might have been mistaken for skin.
	Yume, on the outer rim, also might've been mistaken for an 
ideal villain.
	Yume was, in no way whatsoever, a villain.
	#Master Yume, transmission cleared. Waiting for final 
confirmation and order.#
	"Confirmed, computer. Plug in image."
	The smallest of sighs escaped Yume's drawn lips. She had 
lived in the wide realm of space for so long now, she'd almost 
forgotten how to address another person accurately. And as the 
image began to piece together on the screen her fingers rested by, 
she could clearly say that her decision had not been a wise one.
	#Y.#
	Yume lifted an ear inquisitively, leaning forward a bit. 
"Speak up, user. I can't hear you." The image was still mainly out 
of focus.
	#Y. assistance. nee-#
	Yume brought her fist to her console just as the user did the 
same-the image abruptly cleared, as did the transmission. "Hakubi 
Washu!?" the furred scientist exclaimed.
	#Hello Yume!# Washu grinned at her ever-so-confused arch-
rival, her hands held out, palms up. #It's been a long time.#
	"Indeed it has," Yume growled-her idea of a greeting. "I 
assume you need something?"
	Washu nodded-curt and in borderline distress.
	#Precisely.#
**
	Sasami frowned.
	"Ayeka and Ryoko are late. so is Washu." She suppressed a 
giggle as Mihoshi's handful of plates slid to one side of her arm 
and she erupted into a series of frantic squeaks and pleas. 
"Mihoshi," she coughed, "you can put those on the table. I mean, 
you don't have to, but it might help with the risk of-"
	An ear-splitting crash heralded yet another of Mihoshi's 
moments of destruction.
	"-an accident."
	"Aah! Sasami, I'm so sorry!" the GP officer wailed. Tears had 
already formed in the corners of her eyes, and Sasami knew that 
once they spilled over, there would be no end to the chaos.
	"It's okay! No, Mihoshi, please don't cry. it's fine, really. 
Washu can probably fix them!" Sasami held back a sharp reprimand, 
sighing inwardly at the jagged bits of porcelain scattered about 
Mihoshi's trembling form. "Mihoshi, there isn't a reason to be 
upset, I promise you."
	Mihoshi sniffled a final time. "Really?"
	"I promised, didn't I?"
	"Thank you, Sasami!" Mihoshi sprang to her feet and hugged 
the younger girl happily; Sasami returned the gesture and began to 
sweep the pieces of porcelain into the dustbin with a handy broom.
	Much to her chagrin, Mihoshi insisted on helping.
**

	".And Mama says I'm not a'posed to be so fwien'ly."
	Ayeka's eyes rolled towards the ceiling of the Ryo-oh-ki, 
searching for a seam, a gap between the crystals, anything, that 
might have signified a leak. But, as the other fifteen hundred 
examinations had proved, there was not even a space big enough to 
fit a sheet of paper between.
	Ryoko had chattered, and chattered, and chattered.
	"Ryoko," she interrupted, "can we go back up now? I'm sure 
Sasami has dinner ready."
	"Sasami-sister!?"
	"That's right."
	Ryoko considered her options. Where there was Sasami-sister, 
she had discovered, there was also food, and lots of it. She liked 
food. But. where there was Sasami-sister, there was usually the 
woman with the frozen face.
	Ryoko shrugged-one person isn't going to stand in my way, she 
decided. 
	"Ryo-oh-ki-sister, UP!"
	"MIIYAA!!"
**

	"Tokimi. Hmm. Washu, have you searched through the records of 
the Science Academy? And the GP criminal files? Surely one of the 
two, if not both, would have some sort of reference to that name?"
	When the woman on the screen nodded, Yume quirked an anxious 
eyebrow. "Well, from the readings on-what did you say her name was 
again?"
	#Ryoko.#
	 "Right. From the readings on Ryoko, there was a T-Continuum 
disturbance and its axis was her; still is, in fact. If even a 
slight push occurs towards the axis, then." Yume shook her head. 
"You'll lose her."
	#I can't let that happen, Yume.#
	Yume sighed. "I think I'd figured out as much. But tell me, 
Washu, why are you so interested in keeping this particular child 
safe? Such matters never concerned you before."
	Washu closed her eyes. #There are things we must discuss, 
when time permits. But for now.#
	#Master Yume, incoming transmission.#
	Yume snatched the printout from the feeder and skimmed over 
it. "Washu, this is useless! You've told me-huh!?"
	Yume's jaw came unhinged.
	The printout was nothing other than Ryoko's expired GP 
criminal profile, but that in itself wasn't strange. Yume'd heard 
of Ryoko on her travels through the many solar systems of this one 
small universe, so it had been expected.
	However, Ryoko's full name had not.
	"H. H-Hakubi!! But Washu, the child conceived between your 
student and yourself was a male, was it not? I don't see how-"
	#She was an experiment. My masterpiece.#
	" 'Was?' "
	#That's right.# Washu's gaze went straight through Yume. #Had 
Kagato not interfered, there might have been a better relationship 
between us. Sealed within the Soja I could not communicate with my 
daughter nor help her when help was most needed. I owe thanks to 
Mihoshi-however many times she's interrupted my work-for reuniting 
us.#
	 Yume sat back, surprised at Washu's confession. And alas, 
there was more:
	#She hated me. From the moment we locked eyes, the only 
emotion was hatred, that and a sort of cunning I thought existed 
only in animals. Perhaps the reason was my being able to see into 
her mind; it enabled me to recognize her love for Tenchi when she 
herself could not.#
	 "Jealousy. Typical emotion among sentient creatures, as we 
both know that extremely well."
	#Yes. And after all of this. the things we've endured. I WILL 
NOT lose her. I will not.#
	Yume released a sigh. "All right. I'll see what I can pull up 
on this Tokimi character-but do you have any idea? I don't care 
how wild it is; that can sometimes be the correct solution."
	Yume anticipated Washu to become sour-she remembered her 
rival hating reminders in her best field-but her reaction was 
quite the opposite. She turned her gaze from Yume, her lips 
moving, the words inaudible.
	Yume said as gently as she could, "Washu, I can't hear you 
when you're focusing wholly on another subject."
	#Sister,# Washu breathed. #I wanted to call her sister.#

			?

	"When I said up. this was not what I had in mind," mumbled 
Ayeka from her perch atop the great tree. What kind, she couldn't 
be sure-she'd been jammed between two of the uppermost branches 
and was having a hard time of getting comfortable. Ryoko sat 
cross-legged in her lap, gazing at the stars with what Ayeka 
assumed was a shaded profile. Ayeka, too, considered the stars, 
one eye searching absently for a wavering light that might have 
meant the presence of a Juraian ship.
	"Ryoko," she queried, "do you remember Tenchi?"
	"Tenchi." Ryoko blinked. Her eyes narrowed wonderingly. "Mmm, 
Tenchi-brother. And water. You with Mama's hair on your face."
	"What?" Ayeka couldn't process the last sentence.
	"Akai. Red. Ayeka-sister?"
	"Hm?" Ayeka replied lazily.
	"Do you 'member me?"
	Ayeka placed a hand on Ryoko's temple; felt the life pulsing 
beneath the pale skin. "I remember a person who I could hate and 
love and cry with. I remember someone who had lost their innocence 
long ago and demonstrated that." Ayeka drew in a small breath. "I 
remember a person who flaunted every talent she owned; even more 
so the ones she didn't."
	"Ayeka-sister, what's inn'cence?"
	Ayeka pondered over her words before answering. "Well. think 
of a leaf." The princess plucked one from her branch and twirled 
it by its stem, the oni watching observantly. "You see, once the 
leaf is pulled from where it belongs, it is called an outcast. It 
develops on its own, traits, rituals, emotions, and so on-that is 
called individuality. All this may happen in the blink of an eye, 
or perhaps stretch out over an eon."
	Ryoko took the leaf from Ayeka and also twirled it-her next 
question was inevitable: "Ayeka-sister, that's inn'cence?"
	"Before the leaf is pulled, yes."
	"But. when you." A breeze lifted Ryoko's fingers as if 
someone were doing it physically-the leaf drifted away on its 
unseen waves, the child's questioning stares following it until 
they could no longer. "What happ'ns next?"
	Ayeka took Ryoko's chin between her index finger and thumb; 
stared into those bright, feline eyes. You're in there somewhere, 
Ryoko, she affirmed silently. I can see it. I can still see that 
fiery temper. and our fights.
	"What happens next?" Ayeka removed her hand and placed it 
under her own chin in thought. She raised an eyebrow; Ryoko 
giggled at the sight.
	"Why don't you tell me?"
**

	Washu walked into the kitchen, one arm tucked under the 
other. Sasami, who had been sorting through the remnants of 
dinner, looked up and offered the weary scientist a smile.
	"Have a good day, Little Washu?"
	Washu sighed. "Yes, I did, up until I went in there." She 
dejectedly flung a thumb over her shoulder; the lab door was the 
only thing she could mean, Sasami realized with a start.
	"What happened?"
	"Oh?" Washu took an armload of plates and piled them into the 
sink, rolling up her sleeves. Sasami watched her features 
carefully. "I just. I just discovered some information I could've 
done without, is all."
	A slight twitch of Washu's right eyebrow and the scientist 
was leaning heavily on the countertop, arms wrapped tightly around 
her middle. Sasami could detect no injury and Washu didn't seem to 
be hurt-not in the physical sense, at least.
	"What information?"
	Two goddesses met hands-Washu did not know of her rank among 
things, however, and Sasami was still very young. Sasami could not 
yet understand her rank, nor the lineage she had gained upon 
assimilating with Tsunami, but something about Washu seemed 
strangely familiar.
	"Washu! Washu, you can tell me! I am-"
	Her hand had been shoved away, suddenly, Washu trembling with 
the strain of holding her emotions back. "Don't you say it!" she 
hissed. Her head snapped up, the eyes flashing and catching the 
light before it retreated into the cold gleam Sasami then 
observed. "I don't need these memories! This. this is not my life! 
Ryoko-"
	Washu's voice cracked, but she continued, "-can not be my 
daughter! Never! That fact is set in stone! I should have thought 
of all this before I created her-such a mistake I made, to think I 
could trust an event of this sort! A simple rise and I follow, 
right, Tokimi?" She laughed hollowly, the sound echoing off the 
walls of the Masaki home, waking anyone that might have been 
sleeping.
	She stopped-there was a small bit of information tugging 
'unimportantly' at the very edge of her consciousness.
	" 'If even a slight push occurs towards the axis. then you'll 
lose her.' "
	A cross-eyed Tenchi stumbled from the crest of the stairs 
just in time to witness his front door fly off its hinges and land 
smoothly in front of him, a blur of red, white, and fabled green 
racing erratically across the lake.
** 
	  
	The cries of a child and a supposed mortal spun in unison 
through the vast plane of space, alerting three figures. Each of 
these three figures raised their heads-one screamed in utter rage 
and grief, one threw an arm out and glided hurriedly toward the 
Earth.
	And one laughed.
	Tokimi-head back, eyes squeezed shut to avoid tears, hands 
draw closely to her sides-laughed, for but one reason.
	Tsunami-body melting and forming again as a ship known in so 
many legends-cursed herself for waiting so long to take action.
	Yume-ears lifted, eyes lowered and brimming with tears, 
fingers tracing over the nearly complete records she'd constructed 
of the entity called "Tokimi"-ended her scream.
	"Damn you, Washu," she managed. The tears came swiftly-how 
long had she waited for contact with simply one person, only to 
lose it? What could she do?
	Aid was most assuredly out of the question.
	She wobbled to the helm of her ship, sending mental and 
verbal commands to the central computer. Her resolve hardened as 
stars became blurs; as even the black background of space faded 
and was replaced with the bright white of light-speed travel.
	Aid is most assuredly out of the question, a voice from above 
warned. Yume shrugged openly.
	"I always ignored questions, anyway."
**

	An alarm somewhere within Ryoko was screaming. Her body 
needed help; she needed help. Even trapped within a mind ignorant 
of many things, she could come to grips with the fact of pain.
	She decided, immediately, that she didn't like pain.
	Someone was holding her, running with her pinned to a 
shuddering ribcage. It was Ayeka-kimono torn, as she had leapt 
from the tree; eyes half-closed to ward off debris from the forest 
undergrowth; skin traced and retraced by thin red lines.
	Ryoko voiced a cry suddenly-the trees and brush had cleared 
too abruptly for her liking-and Ayeka slammed into something that 
resembled an invisible wall. She crumpled to the ground, barely 
conscious, only able to enclose herself around Ryoko and pray help 
would arrive shortly.
	"Hmmm," came a low-toned observation, "you interfere, 
princess. Shame."
	Ayeka raised her head; a braced wrist connected savagely with 
the back of it, and she crumpled again, her limbs sprawling 
awkwardly. "Mama?" Ryoko inquired hopefully from under her 
protector.
	"Not quite. A relative, though said." Tokimi lifted Ayeka 
with one arm and tossed her aside. She gazed, almost sadly, at the 
child that lay writhing on the ground at her feet. "Such a pity-my 
only niece cannot even stand to greet me properly." Tokimi sneered 
and knelt by Ryoko. She slid a hand over her slick forehead, her 
long, claw-like fingernails leaving shallow rivets in the 
sensitive skin.
	"M-mama."
	Tokimi's violet-blue eyes narrowed to slender crescents. 
"Already you call my sister your mother, and you have been in your 
guise but four days. How utterly pathetic."
	The urgent rustle of leaves sounded in Tokimi's ears, and she 
lifted a lip in a wan smile. Washu stumbled out of the bushes, 
panting, one hand resting over a stitch in her side. She stiffened 
when she caught sight of Tokimi.
	"You!" she spat vehemently. "Get away from my daughter!" A 
wavering blade of bright, tawny light appeared between her 
trembling fingers-this she swung until it pointed at Tokimi's 
exposed throat. "I warn you," she growled, "that I will have no 
mercy, should you harm her in the slightest." She brought the 
sword up just a bit. "Step back."
	Tokimi obeyed the order with a sketched bow. 
	Washu, to say the least, had not expected this. Her eyes 
darted from Tokimi to Ryoko, back again; repetition became 
recognized for a total of three seconds. Then, legs curled, she 
pounced, took Ryoko under an arm, and sprang back to her place at 
the edge of the trees. The blade flickered out as Washu went to 
the ground, Ryoko installed across her knees, and began an 
examination.
	"It will do no good."
	A head jerked upward; Ryoko cried out, as did Washu. She 
circled her arms around the child and whispered certain solaces in 
her ear, eyes, meanwhile, fixed like fiery green torches on 
Tokimi. "And what," she hissed, "do you mean by that?"
	"Exactly what you think, my dear, dear sister," Tokimi 
replied. Washu winced. "Oh, you don't favor my relation?" she 
asked innocently. Her smile flipped into a dangerous frown. "How 
unfortunate."
	They regarded each other for a still moment. When Washu 
spoke, Tokimi had to tilt an ear to hear her, for her words were 
carefully chosen and soft altogether. "You have done something to 
my daughter-something I cannot remedy. From the memories I have 
gathered of you, sister, you enjoyed making deals."
	Tokimi found a hand straying to her brow and quickly forced 
it down.
	"Yes," Washu continued, "I do think so."
	"A deal?" Tokimi's eyes wandered to the oni clutched within 
her sister's small, childlike arms. "Regarding that?"
	"Yes." Washu pulled Ryoko a mite closer. "You. we fought. 
Very often. A deal involving a duel should satisfy you-between us, 
no interruptions or interference whatsoever."
	"Draws?"
	"None-just two conclusions. If you win, do as you like. If 
you lose, restore Ryoko to what she was before."
	Tokimi's hand, by then, had made it to her brow and was 
stroking the thin line of hair furiously. "I can agree to that," 
she confirmed after a few seconds of contemplation. A wolfish grin 
seized her features; she extended a ghostly hand for a sound seal. 
Washu stared at it apprehensively. "You remember that too, do 
you?" Tokimi inquired. She tucked her appendage beneath the folds 
of her kimono and sighed wistfully. "I have no body. You stripped 
it from me, sister." Her attention snapped back to the present. 
"When do we begin?"
	The blade of tawny light ignited in a burst of sparks, 
Washu's stern face shadowed by its eerie glow.
	"Immediately."
**

	Yume's eyes shot open. She'd slumped at the helm, her ears 
lowered gently in a light doze, but the force of the landing brake 
had jarred her senses to the point of utter alertness. She 
straightened and gave a swift mental order to the central 
computer-she wanted her hatch unlocked, and she wanted it unlocked 
the second the command was given.
	"Computer, I'll be gone for awhile. Keep fields up-do not let 
anyone enter or I swear on the Dean's grave you will be reduced to 
a puddle of molten slag."
	If it was possible for a computer to shiver, Yume's did. 
#Yes, Master Yume.#
	"Thank you."
	A swish of a cloak and twitch of ears later, Yume's small 
form had become one with Earth's cool night air, a fleeting shadow 
against the underside of the glowing moon.
 
			?

	Tokimi sneered.
	"You fight in this manner and you expect to win?" She clucked 
her tongue and shook her head, the orange forelocks waving to and 
fro in the breeze that had happened upon the two of them. "Dear 
me, this will be easier than I thought."
	"You have no physical body-why did you agree to battle if you 
cannot receive my blows?" Washu growled angrily. She drew her 
lightsword to her side and stabbed the ground to relieve some of 
the stress that had built inside her form and heart. "Such a liar 
you are, Tokimi, a liar and a twister of promises. If you can't 
fight, then I've won."
	"You will never win against me."
	Washu, unable to see the light at the end of the tunnel, 
sighed. "Then what exactly do you want with me!? I did not come 
out here in the middle of the night-awakening my family in the 
process, no less-to have a chat session with someone I can barely 
remember!"
	Tokimi simply raised an eyebrow and a hand. "Granted, sister, 
you do not remember me well, but your memories are a mere bit 
beyond your fingertips." The breeze strengthened slightly-Washu 
could detect something sinister within its soothing folds. "Oh, 
sister, how much you have missed."
	Nonexistent hands caressed Washu's cheeks-she brought the 
sword up, but it could not touch Tokimi, whether she wanted it to 
or not. Little by little the weapon dropped; at first, just an 
inch or two, but at last, it slipped from her grasp altogether. 
The quick mind began to fail-slowly, but fail none the same-; I 
can't let this happen. I can't let Ryoko fall to her will.
	"Open your eyes, sister. Open your real eyes."
	Washu cracked first one lid, then the other-by the end of a 
simple five seconds her lightsword had re-ignited and she'd lifted 
her head up to attention, for the hands on her cheeks were no 
longer transparent.
	"What did you?."
	Tokimi stepped back, making a sweeping gesture with one arm 
to cover herself and her surroundings. "You thought I would issue 
a battle in your dimension? Foolish. Only here may I assume a form 
similar to that of which I once possessed. You are the one who 
reduced me to a spectral figure-do not question my methods or this 
deal will fall through immediately." A hand rose, the index finger 
and thumb coming together.
	Snap.
	Ryoko screamed.
	Washu screamed.
	And Tokimi. well. what do you think? Tokimi laughed, looking 
down upon her sister and niece, reveling in their mutual torment. 
She licked her lips decisively.
	"Pain. what a joyous element!"
**

	Yume's feet wanted to continue, but her ears and her other 
senses pleaded an investigation of the area she had just wandered 
into. The alarms on each of her transportable devices chimed 
incessantly.
	"All right, all right! Quit the infernal ringing!"
	#Master Yume, our instructions were to-#
	"I know what your instructions were, thank you! I assigned 
them! Now, what is so important about this quadrant?-wait a 
moment." Her eyes narrowed and a small metal box appeared in her 
hand. She studied it intently.
	Two aluminum prongs protruded from the top of the box, there 
to measure something only she could understand; the box itself was 
a gleaming molten silver and abnormally crinkled at the top. Yume 
flung the contraption upwards and it shattered into several tiny, 
shimmering pieces, some coming together to form what experts would 
call a perfect sphere.
	Yume knew, as every other great scientist within every 
universe knew, that nothing could be perfect. She growled at the 
sphere and it melted into the air-a moment later it reappeared, a 
green light pulsing from its invisible center. "Readout," she 
commanded tersely.
	#Subspace rip approximately three meters forward right; 
repair report unavailable,# it barked. #Access may be granted for 
span of fifteen Terran minutes.#
	"Creator?"
	#Jurai power.#
	 "Damn," Yume swore. "She's already come and gone. Now 
what?."
	A slight rustle of brush drew Yume's attention to the ground. 
Her ears lifted and swung from side to side, hunting eagerly for 
the source of the sound. Her eyes strained against the darkness-
she was a demon, but not a demon with the capabilities of 
nocturnal vision-and came upon the silhouette of a human figure.
	And from the position, she noted silently, a dead human 
figure.
	Nevertheless, her sword was quickly unsheathed and settled 
against the throat of the assumed foe. "A movement," Yume growled, 
"and you die, if you aren't already dead. A word of your identity, 
should it be a good one, and I will spare you." 	Moonlight 
spilled from behind a dark cloud and across the figure's face. 
Yume pulled her sword back, instantly depositing the blade on the 
ground. "Princess Ayeka?" she breathed incredulously. Suspicion 
was the dominant factor in her mind, but even that was stamped out 
as the tiara of Jurai wood became visible on the woman's forehead. 
"May the Dean spare me," she prayed. She knelt beside the immobile 
princess, extending hesitant fingers to quickly swipe over the 
royal wrist. 
"She's alive!-that's good news at least. Concussion. minor, 
maybe. and cold." Yume's hand withdrew and went to one shoulder, 
undoing the clasps of her cloak, which fell to cover the princess. 
Yume arranged it to her satisfaction and stood. "Princess, you 
will be fine. But your memory, hopefully, shall remain without the 
scar of my presence."
As so it happened, later on, Ayeka would remember Yume, even 
if the demon wished for no acknowledgment.
Yume retrieved her sword; again, she extended hesitant 
fingers, though this time it was to confirm her target. "So, 
Tokimi, you screened yourself." Yume smiled-a very rare sight 
indeed. "It was a nice try, I'll give you that. But if you 
couldn't even keep the princess or Washu out of your hair, then 
there's absolutely no way you can avoid my intervention."
A few stray moon rays danced on the blade as it plunged into 
the area her box had indicated-there would be a name for it, but 
shamefully, the author cannot think of one-; she widened the rip 
to fit her form.
"Hang on," she said through clenched teeth. "Don't you dare 
leave me without a challenge."
**

Sparks flew; sweat glistened in contrast to the flushed skin 
of each combatant in the battle that would, perhaps, have a 
spectacular ending. Two pairs of narrowed eyes regarded the other 
with entirely different emotions on either side-the pair that 
looked as if an evening sky had been liquefied and spilled into 
them were smiling in inner, evil glee, and the pair resembling a 
set of polished, white-lined emeralds were leaking tears of pain. 
No threats or pleas were exchanged, for both combatants were 
giving their full attention to the contest.
Swing.
Cut.
Parry; fall under the blow and draw a thin red line across 
the opponent's cheek to demonstrate skill, but be wary, for the 
opponent may do the same to you-these lines Washu repeated over 
and over within her mind. I can't afford to lose, I can't afford 
to succumb to this-
Behind you.
Washu swung herself around and sideways, dodging the sword 
Tokimi had intended for her shoulder, or perhaps between them. She 
snarled.
"Dirty trick!"
"Affective."
"Almost," Washu admitted, pausing to catch her breath. A 
sharp pang at the back of her ribcage made her put a hand to just 
between her breasts. A warning, her mind informed her. She turned 
her head and surveyed the still personage that could only be 
Ryoko; what a sad sight it was.
The small hands and feet were thrown at odd angles, some 
leaning inward, others out. The chest beneath the folds of the 
'oversized yarn sock' was rising and falling in a laborious, 
broken cycle; the eyes were half-open and staring at nothing.
It was like gazing into a mirror that hadn't been polished in 
a very long time.
There was a ferocious sting on her forehead, and Washu rolled 
her eyes to it, trying to see what was happening. Noticing her 
confusion, Tokimi gestured to the ceiling of their arena.
"See yourself there, Washu. Our warm-up has forced your body 
into its utter supremacy; your mind may not remember, but it 
does."
"Remember-GEEZ!!" Washu cried, running her nails over the 
bridge of her nose. Three light brown circles had formed on her 
brow, two in line, the third positioned beneath and directly 
between them. "The mark of the. Goddess." Washu grimaced. "So 
that's the big gap in my memory. I'm one of you."
"That's right."
"But why don't I remember? Not everyone's a member of this 
sort of club."
Tokimi sighed wearily. "Of course not; I never said that. And 
you brought your lack of memory upon yourself-forging an alliance 
with those filthy Juraians so many years ago."
"An alliance with Jurai?" The customary question mark flashed 
above Washu's head. "Uhmm. could you please be a bit more clear?" 
The serious tone bounced to a playful one, and Washu's lightsword 
became a chair. The scientist balanced on its tip, grinning at her 
elder sibling. "C'moooon!" she pleaded with a well-placed leer. 
"I'm dyin' to know!"
Tokimi gaped. "You would sacrifice your daughter's life for a 
bit of information?!"
"Heh." Washu sprang forward and smacked Tokimi's iron-clad 
shoulder. Fingers tightened; blood seeped from under them. Tokimi 
gasped and swung her arm at the offense, but Washu had already 
twisted away, her red hand to her lips. Repulsion and disgust 
writhed unrestrained in her gut, but she forced a smile: 
punishment for what her sister had done, and an apology for 
backing out of the battle that had started-that she had retreated 
from-over five millennia past.
	Panting, Tokimi nodded towards Washu's blood-soaked 
appendage. "Dirty trick."
	Washu felt her smile widen despite the gruesome 
circumstances. "Affective."
	A bell-like laugh rang freely throughout the arena, and 
unnoticed betwixt times, a demon raised her head, peering 
curiously up through the tear in subspace at the entity who seemed 
to be enjoying herself very much. But the last word-she had heard 
none of the previous conversation-gave her mind a run for its 
money.
	"Almost."

			?

"You have failed."
Ryoko lifted her head, already terrified, already running 
within a plane of existence where running was not allowed. Her 
breath came quickly, and with it pain, but she continued-she did 
not want to be here, she did not want the darkness to consume her 
as it had others of her kind.
Her body was forced 'round and held in place, her hands and 
her feet bound with an invisible rope. Before her a single road 
stretched outward, not even motes of light daring to flicker 
across its boundaries. Two women walked along this road-a smaller, 
shorter one, and her long, living shadow.
Ryoko trembled in fear.
	The shadow-the woman with the frozen face.
**

	Tokimi paused in her verbal reverie, her eyes opening just a 
bit; she felt as if something had breached her defenses, and that 
she did not find too pleasing a thought. Washu took this 
opportunity to leap in and attempt a few jabs with her lightsword, 
but the sister avoided them easily, the lengthy sleeves of her 
kimono suddenly filling with air as she whirled to meet her other 
attacker.
	"Traitor!" she screamed, feeling a slight pinprick as a blade 
of not light, but metal, entered her side. Slim fingers quickly 
raced to cover the wound-it was a shallow one; very far from 
fatal-and raged danced without a border under Tokimi's thin brow. 
"You TRAITOR! There was an agreement that no interference of any 
kind would be permitted!"
	A barking peal of exclaimed surprise echoed in Washu's ears 
as Tokimi's iron shoulder-plate buried its own razor edge deeply 
within the arm of an aiding force; Washu closed her eyes when it 
transformed into a pained yowl.
	"Washu, what is this? Another creation of yours?" Tokimi 
kicked Yume out of the way, a single eye rolling after the demon 
as she skidded to a slow stop. "Humph, it's ugly! What were you 
thinking?"
	"Ugly enough to score a hit on your blasted hide," Yume 
grunted. She picked herself up, arm cradled above the other, and 
exposed a canine in a greeting to her rival.
	"Washu."
	"Yume," the scientist acknowledged.
	"Long time, no see, save the transmissions." Yume toed the 
floor uncomfortably for a moment, then brought her head up with a 
fierce whipping of ears and red-flecked fur. "Well?! That's it?! 
Aren't you and the Lady supposed to be fighting?!"
	"You came to wa-"
	"Is your head full of air?" Washu was stopped in mid-sentence 
by the quick inquiry, and her mouth hung open, the jaw seemingly 
unhinged. "I traveled half-way across this galaxy to help you kill 
her." A fist jabbed toward the fuming Tokimi. "Yes, Washu, help. 
And kill. Would you stop looking at me like that?"
	"You?--"
	"Oh, before I forget." Yume reached into her shirt, pulled 
out a packet of papers, and tossed them on the floor before 
Washu's now overly-large feet. "There. The records you requested. 
Yeah, they're a bit late. what?" Crimson overtook the demon's 
facial fur instantaneously. "Why're you looking at me so harshly? 
What'd I do?"
	Washu shook her head and pulled her arm up and over, her 
lightsword passing Yume's cheek with a mere inch only to spare. 
She leveled it at the demon's head and began to walk forward, her 
steps slow; gentle, yet firm enough to throw her warning across.
	"Away."
	Yume did indeed fall back a piece or two, confusion written 
plainly on her normally solid features. "Washu, what are you 
doing?"
	The lightsword barely brushed Yume's shoulder, and as this 
was attached to her injured arm, she bit her lower lip, scrambling 
for words, only to find them lost in the great mind that was 
working feverishly behind her arched brow. "Washu," she cried, 
"what in the hell's gotten into you?!"
	"Away."
	The defeated demon wheeled through the last few paces. Her 
shoulders slumped and she dejectedly re-sheathed her sword, her 
eyes lowered-the message in those eyes was something of so much 
importance it hurt to see it.
	Washu withdrew slowly lest Yume attempt to reenter the feud, 
but her rival did not even look up. "It isn't-"
	But Yume had already turned-away, far away, just as her 
orders had been in the first place. She shuffled off, and 
unbeknownst to her, such an action was forever looked upon as the 
most honorable sacrifice made for a Lady since the beginning of 
their existence.
	Tokimi smirked, drew her sword up, and hurled it toward the 
retreating demon.
	Yume never saw it coming, and even if she did, she didn't 
care.
	Four minutes and a weak clasping of hands and claws later, 
Washu lifted her head, wordlessly folding the lifeless arms over 
the still chest of her rival and highly-valued friend. She faced 
Tokimi, her tears held behind solemn eyes.
	"That was certainly not necessary."
	Energies rose, collided, and merged-that of the Goddess, and 
that of the mortal scientist's guise she had hidden in for 
countless years. Strands of hair twisted and twined together; the 
body curled, then burst outward in pulses of an immortal heart and 
an immortal soul. The hands that had been so gentle before grew 
larger, into adultery, and the face was suddenly shadowed across 
the upper regions.
	The robes of the Lady appeared draped over her arms and 
hanging to almost her knees. The ragged ribbon in her hair was the 
only sign of her mortal existence before or perhaps later-she 
accepted all of this without any complaint, and if there was one, 
it was not voiced.
	Tokimi watched the event fold out, her eyes straying only 
once to the papers the demon had intended for Washu about her true 
location, plus the coordinates and revolving dimensions. Her gaze 
then dropped to the corpse of the demon-so cold she appeared to 
be; such a harsh complexion even in death, the goddess mused 
aimlessly.
	She wondered, briefly, if she'd meant something to her 
sister.
	"Tokimi."
	Her head turned and she considered Washu: an adult in every 
way-even the tender eyes had taken on an icy under-bearing. She 
smiled.
	"Yes?"
	"We begin now. No interference; no breaks. I thank you for 
waiting." Washu did not smile.
	For an instant, Tokimi could see the difference between 
herself and the woman standing not so far away. She would not have 
killed the demon; Tokimi sighed inwardly. She would not have 
issued a meeting over her niece's life.
	Pity. I'm not Washu, am I?
	And the battle truly began.
**

	Ryoko tore her hands vehemently from the grasp of the woman 
with the frozen face, her eyes darting about the chamber to which 
she'd been brought.
	"She's seeing what the other does, I think," said the smaller 
woman off-handedly. Her larger counterpart nodded in 
understanding.
	"Aa.-True to say, yes." Tsunami again took Ryoko's hands in 
her own, her power kept to just behind her fingertips. "The 
decision to awaken the young one is very precarious in dealing. I 
wish to save my sister, but a wrong move on her part could destroy 
everything I've planned."
	"Tsunami?"
	The woman with the frozen face gave her attention to her 
counterpart. "Yes?"
	Sasami bit her lip. "Can we really rely on Ryoko to get the 
job done?"
	Tsunami knew she was smiling, and as much as the time called 
for seriousness, she could not force the action apart from others. 
"I think so; don't you? Has she ever failed anyone before?"
	"No, but-"
	"Then have a bit of faith in your sister." Tsunami put a 
comforting hand on Sasami's head and waved the other through the 
air. "I promise you, Sasami, if anyone does fail, it won't be 
Ryoko." The woman with the frozen face snapped her wrist backwards 
and then in an arc, making an imaginary circle around Ryoko's 
face. The child squirmed; grew, and grew, and grew. The angular 
limbs stretched to a size they had been deprived of for nearly a 
week; muscles writhed beneath the new skin before relaxing into a 
dazed, awe-like state. All senses lurched forward, eagerly 
greeting the world that had, until then, remained dormant and 
unrealized under a setting of pain and misplaced mirrors.
	And the eyes truly opened.
**

	"Hahahaha! This is very entertaining! Keep it up, sister; 
another millennia and you just might manage to touch me!" Tokimi 
bared her teeth angrily as the offending lightsword scraped her 
ear.
	"There, I touched you."
	"Stop playing around, sister!"
	The sword match had transformed into a deadly game of cat and 
mouse, and Tokimi was not the cat. Washu's blows were clearly 
careless-she wasn't trying.
	She's waiting for something. Tokimi shook her head, easily 
evading a jab towards her covered throat. Now. what could my dear 
sister want? Does she expect me to fall to my knees and beg for 
mercy?
	The offending lightsword made contact with her ribcage; 
Tokimi went sailing backwards, the breath knocked from her lungs. 
Washu was instantly above her, the glowing weapon pressed against 
the iron shoulder-plate that had weakened her rival only a few 
minutes earlier. A low rumble grated from between Washu's tightly 
clenched jaws.
	"My daughter, Tokimi."
	Tokimi drew back slightly under the sword. "What?"	
"The conditions were that if you won, you'd do as you liked 
with me, and if you lost, you'd restore my daughter to what she 
was before." The sword's tip moved up just a bit, and very slowly 
and deliberately, Washu drew a thin red line across Tokimi's 
cheek.
"Sister, I've won."
Tokimi looked on dumbly as Washu allowed her lightsword to 
flicker out; her eyes sharpened as she started towards Ryoko. 
"Sister."
Washu turned, only to have her chest meet the end of her own 
offending lightsword. Her eyes narrowed; on instinct, she took the 
blade in her hands, not even bothering to scream as the energy bit 
into her flesh. She lifted a dead gaze to Tokimi's face.
"And. you enjoyed going back on your deals." The shadowed 
upper regions of Washu's face were suddenly alight with a twisting 
of skin representing utter, uncontrollable rage. "I'VE KEPT EVERY 
DEAL AND EVERY PROMISE MADE WITHIN MY NAME! THE LEAST YOU COULD DO 
IS HONOR THAT!!"
Washu snapped the blade in two, flung the pieces over her 
shoulder, and wrestled Tokimi to the ground with her raw, red 
hands.
"I simply don't understand you. Tokimi-my sister-you've 
killed my rival and my friend. You've taken my daughter as a sort 
of hostage; you've attempted to swindle me." Washu's hands moved 
from trembling shoulders to a slender neck. "Listen; don't turn 
into something I'll have to look upon later as a deep regret."
"You'd kill me, then?"
"You remember me better than I do. What do you think?"
Tokimi allowed a quick moment of consideration before 
nodding. "I see. You care nothing about this confrontation, 
sister-I see that now. But. do you care nothing for me?"
Washu had expected such a question. "I cannot care for you.-I 
have no memories of you in particular, only your traits, and even 
those are sparse in number." She sighed. "Sister. I can never 
know. if I ever loved you."
Tokimi felt no response could have matched the sorrow in her 
sister's voice. She knew the answer, yes-what good would it do to 
tell, however?
"You remember nothing?"
"Bare details."
Tokimi brought her own hands up, removed Washu's, and shoved 
the other woman back. "You would kill me, and afterwards, think 
nothing of it!" she snarled. "That's the kind of person you were-
cold, uncaring; only wishing to be human so you could care. And 
Washu? You still are!"
Washu shook at the words. "That can't be tr-"
"But it is," Tokimi finished. Her fingers moved against the 
black background of her robes. "You did kill me, sister; oh, you 
forget that I had to create this dimension so I could fight? My 
mind remained-my soul-while my body was taken by simply one snap 
of your accursed fingers. I do not doubt some shame was felt-you 
did abandon your heritage, after all-but even knowing a part of 
you was missing, you never came to me. You never wondered of my 
end."
Washu was, by then, shaking her head furiously in denial. 
"How could I?!" she cried. "I never knew I had a sister, much less 
one I handicapped in so many years passed!"
"So you think of it as a handicap?"
"No! I-I'm not sure what I think." Washu put her indexes to 
her temples and rotated them, her teeth gritted in reflex. While 
she did this, Tokimi spoke,
"Are you sure of anything?"
Washu paused, her eyes coming up to regard her sister, a sort 
of pale defiance smoldering within their watery emerald depths. "I 
am sure of what I want, and what you are doing. Return my 
daughter, or I will twist your neck into a pretzel."
"A threat?"
"A promise," Washu returned just as quickly.
And above the stars a being tapped the hilt of her broken 
sword against her knee, shaking under the heavy influence of mirth 
and the comical show her rival was putting up. Her eyes were 
squeezed shut, a gleam in them still, though unseen.
"Saaa, my Washu! What cards you play!"
**

	"She's ready."
	"I think so."
	"Aren't you sure?" was the hopeful prodding.
	"No, I'm not." Tsunami shook her head, her beautiful hair 
looking strangely thin in the partial light. "But we must proceed 
nevertheless. Unveil her eyes-let her see what truly lies behind 
the barrier erected in either mind."
	Sasami swept the cloth from Ryoko's face, flinging it into 
the darkness and raising her other hand to lightly slap the 
lifeless cheeks. "Wake up, Ryoko," she whispered. "C'mon, wake 
up."
	"Nnn-huh?" Ryoko mumbled. Sasami administered another soft 
slap, and the contact of skin drew Ryoko completely from her 
slumber. She blinked dazedly. "Sasami? Tsunami? What are you doing 
here?"
	Tsunami peered anxiously into the reflective golden orbs. 
"That does not matter. Tell me, Ryoko, can you think clearly?"
	Ryoko blinked again, but nodded. "I can. And you can't say it 
doesn't matter, Tsunami! I want to know why you have me tied up!" 
There was a brief albeit exaggerated moment of rolling eyes and 
scoured thoughts. "I haven't done anything!" she finally 
confirmed.
	"Ryoko, do you know your mother?"
	"Washu? Yeah, kinda hard to forget her." Ryoko sneered 
contemptuously. "Who could forget such a woman, Tsunami."
	"Don't talk of her in harsh words," Tsunami warned. "She 
needs your help now, Ryoko."
	Ryoko looked stunned, then burst into laughter. "Washu needs 
my help? Hah! Sure-sure, Tsunami, tell me another one!"
	Tsunami angrily tightened Ryoko's bonds. "Listen to me! Washu 
needs your help-are you going to deny your aid?"
	Ryoko turned a frosty glare to Tsunami's impenetrable gaze. 
"Since when were you concerned about my affairs?"
	"I am concerned about you!" Sasami insisted, stamping her 
foot indignantly. Tsunami attempted a silencing gesture, but the 
freckled child ignored it royally. "Ryoko, please. just listen."
	Ryoko's heart melted under the plea. She cleared her throat 
and again faced Tsunami. "What is it that Washu needs?"
	Tsunami smiled, releasing Ryoko with a mental tug at the 
bonds. "I'll let you discover that for yourself." She knelt beside 
the cyan-haired woman, watching as she rubbed the circulation back 
into her limbs. Ryoko looked up after a minute or two.
	"And I am supposed to do this?."
	Tsunami tapped her own temple. "The barrier. See if you can 
touch it, Ryoko."
	Ryoko obediently closed her eyes, searching her mind for the 
all-too-familiar presence of her mother's mental block. To her 
great surprise, it didn't seem to exist any longer.
	Swords clashing.
	Her eyebrows dipped in concentration.
	The body of an aid-not accepted.
	Beads of sweat began to glisten noticeably on the smooth 
forehead.
	A woman with carefully aimed blows and cold eyes.
	Ryoko bit her tongue, searching aimlessly, trying to turn the 
gaze that was not of her possession.
	A small, still form. A child lying motionless at the edge of 
the arena, limbs sprawled, eyelids loosely covering unseeing eyes; 
the chest was rising in a ragged pattern, the gently-curved lips 
parted in a desperate, unspoken appeal.
	A hoarse cry sounded and Ryoko opened her eyes, looking 
wildly about for either the Goddess or the freckled child.
	But both had already disappeared, leaving the demon to her 
thoughts and her will.
	Or was she really a demon?
	Tell us, Ryoko. Which are you?
	Ryoko chewed the inner part of her cheek worriedly, her gaze 
flitting toward the shadows in which she had just been released 
from. I'm no longer her prisoner, she decided. I can do as I like, 
when I like.
	I could have Tenchi.
	"No more interruptions on the account of Mom." she drawled. 
Her hands pressed themselves to her chest, where they stayed for a 
moment.
	"Why do I care?"
	Why do you wonder?
	"Can I care?"
	Why do you want to know?
	"Hmph." Ryoko bared her canines, taking in the challenge that 
had not really been issued, but referred to and hinted upon by the 
Goddess. Her lips curved into a smile. "Even Little Sasami is in 
on this, I see."
	And, with an always unseen breeze, came the problem.
	"Damn. that girl."
	There was a small cough as Ryoko made her conclusion. She 
closed her eyes, searching anew for the barrier Tsunami had 
destroyed on her behalf-"I'm sorry, Washu."
	Ryoko snapped each limb accordingly, ligaments and tendons 
stretching to their full potential. Eyes widened; her mouth opened 
to whisper the words, "So sorry."
	
			?

	Washu felt something slide into her mortal consciousness-
tearing through memories, throwing emotions and other conventions 
aside. Tokimi leapt back, angered that she was no longer paying 
attention to their duel.
	"Sister, are you going to fight or allow me to cut your head 
from your shoulders?!" Tokimi swung her reformed blade, only to 
have it forced away by a pair of extremely pale hands-these 
seemingly were Washu's, only larger and more powerful. She gave a 
hoarse cry of surprise and lurched backwards.
	Washu herself also tried to cry out, for her limbs were no 
longer her own, nor were her movements. Tokimi advanced again, 
intent on extinguishing the threat before it was able to establish 
itself.
	Her clawed fingers suddenly twitched, and Washu screamed, a 
carmine blaze painted across her eyes.
	The hands had forced the sword up-"No!" still rang futilely 
through the air-and Tokimi, completely blind of the fact that 
Washu and Ryoko were linked through the mind as well as the body, 
had impaled herself wholly upon the now glimmering red weapon.
	Tokimi's head dropped, as did her shoulders, but both oh so 
slowly it hurt to watch-and Washu did just that, some sort of 
remaining emotion holding her eyes fast to the slumped form of 
what was supposedly her sister.
	"No." came the whispered plea, directed towards the stars 
that could not be seen. Washu fell heavily to her knees; something 
did not feel right, and it was not the death of a relative when 
Washu hadn't known there were any besides Ryoko-no, she felt 
changed.
	The Goddess left Washu in a rush of blood to the head and 
tears. So many tears. so many things she did not understand.
	And also in a rush-not of blood to the head, not even tears-
Tokimi was gone. The carmine blaze-such a disgusting signature of 
her defeat-had dried against Washu's brow, and she clawed at it 
furiously, trying to remove it. Flakes of the stuff went under her 
fingernails, and she commenced to clawing at them as well, feeling 
as if she would be sick.
	Rough hands and an even rougher voice tugged her gently from 
the parterre; the hands went around her waist and lifted her into 
arms that had, on previous occasions, been the main factor 
concerning the deaths of millions of Juraian children.
	"Washu, c'mon, quit that. Quit crying. It's all over now."
	Washu turned her face into her daughter's 'oversized yarn 
sock,' no words coming to her lips. Instead they spilled from her 
eyes as still more tears-salty red tears in honor of the carmine 
blaze.
	And Ryoko quickly made an exit for the both of them, pausing 
only a brief fifteen seconds to study the body of the demon who 
had sacrificed herself for. for her safety, in a way. The 
spreading stain on her front alarmed Ryoko to some extent, but 
this wayward emotion she dismissed with a sharp intake of breath 
and a turning of her head. This one, and how many others? she 
wondered.
	The woman she and her mother had slain as the same being; 
Washu herself. Ryoko closed her eyes and thought of her home, 
wishing only to appear at the door and greet her family. And so 
she did appear at the door, where the Juraian prince and the 
Galaxy Police Officer stood ready with arms thrown wide.
	Washu, ever the one who held herself firm with her actions 
and traditions, bolted from Ryoko's grasp towards her lab, her 
trail only marked by the red tears left to hover for seconds in 
midair before falling despairingly to the polished wooden floor. 
The others watched her, Ryoko the most reluctant of all to let her 
go.
	Masaki Katsuhito, who sat composed and brown at the edge of 
the kitchen, said softly, "I would not think any of you foolish 
enough to let her stay by herself after the fall of a relative." 
He smiled, then, his light eyes alighting upon Ryoko. "Especially 
when not only one has fallen."
	Tight-lipped, Ryoko nodded and went to the door of the lab, 
her hand poised to knock. A light tug on the hem of her blouse and 
she turned; looked down to see Sasami there, a towel held between 
her hands.
	"You'll need this," she whispered, then was away again via 
her quick feet. Ryoko peered curiously at the towel-all the pieces 
falling into place, she wheeled around and went through the door 
without knocking, fearful, for once, of what would await her 
behind the walls of the house in which she stood.
**

	In the many years Hakubi Washu had experimented with this and 
that, she had come across certain things that required blood 
samples-what sort of scientific conclusion could be drawn from 
living matter without its DNA? And even so, Washu had never 
spilled much of this stuff; for living matter in itself it was, 
yes, and she knew no reason at all to dirty her hands with it.
	And now a relative's blood signature had been dutifully 
scrawled along her brow while the relative passed through her 
death-throes; Washu could not bear for it to stay there. With 
gross vigor she threw herself into a cleaning cubicle used 
primarily like an eyewash station-hands raised, she used these to 
scrub over her face, no matter how much pain it caused.
	Come off! Come off, blaze!
	The cubicle widened around her as she threw herself, splayed-
legged, to the floor, ripping her clothes away. Her hands went 
everywhere; skin was torn, and more red flowed from it. Her eyes 
believed it to be still from her brow and she scrubbed harder-
anywhere, everywhere again; until she knew no boundary between her 
pain and the red that billowed in the water around her.
	Ryoko, having entered the lab and seen what her mother was 
doing to herself, swooped down, gathered the injured woman into 
her arms once more, and jerked her savagely from the cubicle. 
"Idiot!" she screamed as her feet touched the ground just outside 
of the bathing area. "Stop this! It's pointless! She's dead, 
Washu; both of them! Maybe the demon you wished to die, and 
perhaps the woman as well-but none of this will help at all."
	Her voice became mild and soft as she continued on; words she 
meant and others she didn't flew from her lips like the blood from 
Washu's own body. "Mom" and "I'm here" were among them.
	Washu ceased weeping and looked up into her daughter's face; 
there were tears there as well, though not so heavily accented as 
she thought hers to be. In those glittering eyes of the cat she 
saw acceptance, pain-so many years twined together-and she saw 
love.
	And this time, both ends, amber and emerald, were glazed.

			? 

	Above the stars that were rapidly disappearing as the sun 
slowly rose, a figure clutched her robe tightly about her 
otherwise unclothed body. Even if she was a spectral figure, the 
elements still existed for her, and without fur space was a very 
miserable place.
	"I didn't know I could be so cold!" she complained good-
naturedly; one would not expect so much more from a demon who had 
been speared through and then transported to a nether realm. "Come 
on, you damned old body! Heal, will you?"
	A summoning winked upon a jeweled horizon in some long-
forgotten place, and the apparition of the demon vanished, leaving 
the stars again to themselves. Only a few-the lonely few that were 
never allowed the rite of association with others-mourned her 
departure. The rest cheered merrily after her, for it was not a 
usual thing when a soul was able to escape from the nether realm 
unscathed.
	Down on the planet named Earth a woman stirred, brushing 
sleep from her eyes and taking a good stretch before standing. Her 
muscles ached and she was not yet ready to face the rigors of life 
furthermore; but she knew it was either to take her risk or die 
against the chilled backing of defeat and betrayal. Using her 
broken sword as a crutch, she hobbled out of her subspace prison 
and into the bright sunlight, hoping to make it to her destination 
before life faltered once more, as she knew it would.
**
Morning found the emotionally unstable goddess curled into a 
tight ball against her daughter's fluttering ribcage, her eyes 
open and eased downward to let in small amounts of light. She 
contended with listening to the skipping heartbeat that was not 
her own; in all the years she'd lived she had not ever been at 
such a close proximity with anyone besides her long-dead husband 
or her long-dead son.
And neither had been so yielding as this.
Her thoughts chased each other around blindly in a mind 
cluttered with other things; but these she ignored, for there was 
nothing to be done about them and she'd accepted that sometime 
during Ryoko's nightly embrace. A barricade no longer standing 
between them, the mother and the daughter could now look at each 
other upon level ground; in the death of the rival, friction 
between them had been eliminated.
She pulled herself away from the slumbering oni with delicate 
movements, unable to stop herself from summoning her holo-console 
and dialing with one hand the order for a blanket. Washu 
hesitated, her fingers hovering a mere millimeter or two above the 
keys.
Ignorance could be a wonderful ally.
Her fingers tapped three non-blinking icons, and Ryoko 
disappeared; Washu knew she would materialize again in the rafters 
just beyond the entrance to her lab, and the thought saddened her 
but a bit. Yes, oh how blessed ignorance would be to her daughter. 
to believe the past four days had been but a strange dream from 
her ever-evolving consciousness.
**

	Washu studied the notes she'd retrieved from the nether 
subspace reason, her brows trembling with concentration and 
meeting each other amidst stray wrinkles in the middle of her 
forehead. The scribe of her rival was enough to make her put her 
hand to her eyes and wipe the tears away before they started; it 
was all the same anymore, she thought bitterly. One takes notes, 
another reviews them, and it is all stored according to version in 
a database none but the reviewer may access.
	Absolutely pointless.
	So involved with her studies was Washu that she didn't notice 
the sound of her door opening, closing again, and the shifting of 
robes as a temporarily-mortal figure took a waiting seat not so 
far away.
	But time and patience were extremely limited, and the figure 
finally snorted with some irritation, "I let myself in. Hope you 
don't mind."
	Washu's hands tightened against the edge of her console and 
she pivoted on her heel; already she knew it had to have been her 
imagination.
	Oh. oh no, Yume was there all right: arms crossed languidly 
behind her head, her eyes to the ceiling, her back pressed to the 
Masu tank. A cloak was spread, rumpled, on the floor beside her, 
and Washu had the strange feeling that Yume might've missed it 
awhile. The demon wrenched her eyes from the ceiling after 
examining it thoroughly; she closed them, her lips coming to form 
a smile.
	"Do you mind, Washu?"
	Washu shook her head dumbly. "N-not at all."
	Yume gave a satisfactory nod and stood. She cut a slow but 
deliberate path to Washu, the upper half of her sword no longer 
used as a crutch for the sake of her pride and dignity. Once 
beside her rival, she extended a helpful claw and traced a line on 
the screen with it.
	"Here."
	"Aa."
	She moved down three lines. "And here."
	"Mm."
	"Before you ask," Yume said softly, "the rest of the family-
besides your daughter-is at the shrine with the princess. I met 
the old one; he returned my cloak." Yume took a sharp breath and 
cleared her impossibly dry throat. "Washu."
	The rest I'll leave to the imagination.
**

	Deep within the world of shadows, a form rose blindly from 
the mists and brought an arm to each shoulder, protecting her 
torso from innumerable enemies unseen. She lived for the Darkness; 
she had made it her goal in life to serve it, and only it. Now it 
had retreated into a lair she was powerless to reach, and she 
wandered the world with no goal-there was no incentive to live at 
all anymore.
	But though the Darkness had held her for so long, the 
rivaling Light was never too weary to take on a new pupil, and 
Tokimi was suddenly pulled from the mists completely and jerked to 
a new place. She was brought to rest on unsteady feet; back and 
forth she rocked for a moment, but, with arms thrown to either 
side, she kept herself maintained.
	"Are you satisfied yet?" came the untimely inquiry, and 
Tokimi lowered her head.
	"Tsunami."
	"Yes. Oh, my sister"-the tone used was a chiding one-
"whatever possessed you to throw an assault on our dear Washu, 
hm?"
	"Go away, Tsunami," Tokimi grumbled.
	"I won't; you belong to my realm now." Even turned in a 
completely different direction and through the soft swath of silk 
upon her head, Tokimi knew her sister was smiling. She closed her 
eyes and gritted her teeth; what an annoyance younger siblings 
were!
	"Come on," Tsunami goaded, her features mysterious. Her high 
voice was enough to make Tokimi whirl to listen. "You can't stand 
there forever-you can't go home, either. Washu is thorough in her 
ways of destroying a threat."
	"You really know how to rub it in, don't you?"
	"I should think so; I'm related to you, aren't I?"
	Tokimi opened her mouth to return comment, thought the better 
of it, and snapped her jaws shut. An argument was what had gotten 
her into such a nasty mess in the first place. Then, ever-so-
quietly, "It is worth it to turn, Tsunami?"
	"I can't answer that. I have been like this ever since I can 
remember-the Light is a wonderful power to have and to hold, I 
will say, Tokimi. But I won't force you. I couldn't if I tried."
	"You truly would welcome me?"
	"In every way I can or could, of course."
	Tokimi lowered her head again; this time it was to remove the 
saffron turban of silk that had marked the rise and fall of her 
unknown dynasty. "I will-I think."
	Tsunami held out her hand, and Tokimi, having turned, 
accepted it without another word.
	In mere seconds, the two had vanished, and the Juraian future 
was forever altered.
**

	Standing with her feet planted firmly on the earth, Yume 
regarded Washu for what she thought might be the last time, 
memorizing her emotion-riddled face. "I can't stay here," she 
finished, "but Washu, I'll come back. I'll come to visit you as 
often as you like."
	Washu managed a wan smile. It failed when Yume turned and 
began to walk-again slowly and deliberately-up the ramp to her 
ship; she knew of the wrecked body that was hidden beneath the 
robes. To let it go. like she had at the Academy.
	She reached forward and caught Yume's wrist between her index 
finger and thumb; brought her around and pinned her arms to her 
sides-helpless, then, was the demon. The embrace was heavily out 
of practice and extremely clumsy, but for two people who had had 
nothing of the sort for uncountable years, it really wasn't an 
object to be considered.
	Thin black brows quivered nervously against a scarlet temple; 
curled lashes waved towards a furred cheek. Yume bared her fangs 
and nipped gently at Washu's earlobe-there was a small indention 
in the skin, but little else.
	"Yes, Washu. I promise."
	The contact then became unbearable and they leapt away from 
one other; who was the more shocked became the question at hand. 
Washu, blushing mildly, laughed at Yume's twisted expression.
	"You act like you've never had a hug before."
	"Not from you!" Yume exclaimed. She lowered her eyes, huffed, 
and stomped the rest of the way into her ship. Washu kept a hand 
over her eyes as it cloaked and roared up into the atmosphere; a 
few unfortunate birds became caught in its backlash and went 
careening to the forest floor.
**

	Chopsticks clattered loudly in contrast to the growing yet 
silent discomfort between Washu and Ryoko-though the demon poked 
and prodded with every insult she could muster from her incredibly 
large store, the goddess nor anyone else seemed interested. 
Sighing with obvious disappointment, Ryoko crossed her arms and 
rolled her eyes skyward.
	At such times she longed for the ever-stretching plane of 
star-studded space; always running from someone or something, 
sending brief and clear orders to her Ryo-oh-ki through their 
telepathic link.
	It would do you good to keep your mind on dinner.
	Ryoko sat straight up and looked about for the source of the 
voice, meeting not one gaze. She finally settled with her mother-
And you care for this because?.
	You've spilled rice all over yourself, Little Ryoko.
	Ryoko cursed mentally and began to sweep the troublesome 
grains from her blouse, sending maybe three of them in Washu's 
direction. The scientist caught one in her chopsticks as an expert 
would; Katsuhito, who had agreed to join the family for dinner, 
whistled appreciatively.
	"I'm still not able to do that, Miss Washu," he said, "and 
I've been practicing ever since I landed on Earth."
	But Washu paid him no mind. She instead shifted her knees and 
faced her daughter, her eyes cold and slanted. She thrust the 
chopsticks between the pale lips of the oni and slapped the back 
of her head with her free hand so swallowing was the only option. 
Washu released Ryoko after she was sure the morsel had been 
disposed of; her movements away were so perfectly calculated 
everyone slid back a bit.
	"One grain of rice," Washu recited. She excused herself-a 
simple bow and a clearing of plates--; "It takes but one grain of 
rice to tip the scale." The room was deathly silent as she left 
it; only Ryoko had the courage to retort after her,
	"And what is that supposed to mean?"
	Washu paused, looking back over a wiry shoulder. She said 
nothing to anyone it seemed; Ryoko waited expectantly for an 
answer, and the one she got didn't resolve her question in the 
least.
	Maybe you should listen to what the stars tell you more often 
than your head, Little Ryoko.
	The screen scraped out of place, back again, and then she was 
gone.
	"Very nice," Nobuyuki commented stupidly from around a 
mouthful of ramen noodles. Three hours later, when he regained 
consciousness, he simply could not comprehend the fact of a very 
large and very heavy Buddha statue dropping from nowhere, only to 
land on his head.
**

	Yume's engines stalled and flickered out completely just as 
she cleared Earth's atmosphere; hands slammed into the main 
computer console and fought to hold the body they were attached to 
upright. The furred scientist, considered by some to be mad, drew 
in sustenance as her lungs would permit it-through her fangs and 
spilling again from between them, the used air rattled wickedly in 
the enclosed habitat.
	Rejuvenation tanks a-plenty could be summoned, and this she 
knew, but healing within the power of stars denied and then 
reached by science seemed unfit. She drummed her fingers and 
chewed the inside of her cheek nervously.
	A promise nor her fear could be denied, either.
	"Damned Bizen."
	Like Washu, Yume had also spent a good chunk of her lifetime 
sealed within a piece of her own work; really, the second-
generation Juraian tree Bizen was not of her possession, but it 
had  been a major factor in the taking of Jurai.
	Again a failed experiment, yes, but what did it matter now? 
She had Washu on her side again; she was happy.
	She was dying.
	From the day-old wound blood began to seep; it pooled on the 
sterile floor and then over the console. Yume watched it with 
detached interest-what sort of interest could there be for death?
	"P-pretty good," she grunted. Her claws fumbled for a moment 
with an array of buttons; she slumped backward and sidewise then, 
sliding into the summoned tank with a dreamy half-smile on her 
lips.
	Oh no, Washu. I made a promise to you and I intend to keep 
it.
	Water rushed into her lungs, and finally the healing solution 
long ago invented by either Washu or herself; fuzzy as her 
memories were of that time, it was a wonder she remembered the 
solution at all. The customary wince ensued as tissues began to 
mend-as fluids were replaced-and it soon faded. Yume, wavering 
between consciousness and a black, blank void, pressed her hands 
to the glass of the tank and closed her eyes.
	If her calculations held true, it would be three days before 
the tank drained and she was able to resume normal life again. 
Three days of dreaming, of wondering, of hoping. 
	Washu.
	The hands slipped, and for the second time in less than five 
minutes, Yume smiled.

			?

	"I don't believe I'm doing this."
	Believe it. You wouldn't be here otherwise.
	"Shut up."
	I can't shut up. I'm that annoying little voice at the back 
of your mind-I'm not supposed to shut up. I'm supposed to nag. 
Nag-nag-nag-nag.
	Ryoko brought a fist to her temple and waved it 
threateningly. "I'll do it; don't think I won't."
	There was blessed silence for a moment, and Ryoko nodded to 
herself, her attention straying back to the path she had been 
following-also hopefully the path Washu had taken. Fresh dirt had 
been kicked up by some sort of walking creature; Ryoko doubted it 
had been made by any of the local wildlife, for what type of 
animal left tracks marked by a sweep on either the left or right 
side?
	Only Washu and her cotton-puff-lined shoes.
	"I really don't believe I'm doing this," Ryoko muttered as a 
twig implanted itself in her hair. She jerked it out and continued 
on; being tall was not of her advantage, currently, and she liked 
it not one bit.
	And ever so quietly: Nag-nag-nag-nag-nag.
	The fist she had raised but ten seconds earlier slammed 
reflectively into the side of her head-Ryoko teetered, off-
balance, then finally, as to the words of some American guy the 
author can't remember the name of, "bit the dust."
	Gentle, small hands pushed her onto her back. "How 
intelligent," was the amused observation. Ryoko tried to protest-
her idea of "protest" was to refuse anything her adversary 
attempted-but found it quite difficult, as her arms had been 
pinned to the ground by feet almost as small as the hands. "How 
very, very intelligent, Ryoko."
	Through crossed eyes Ryoko glared at her mother. "Lemme up!"
	Washu snorted. "I don't think you want to get up. From the 
bruise on your face, I don't think you'll be wanting to get up for 
awhile." The scientist leaned in close, examining the self-
inflicted injury as her nature instructed her to. A key-click and 
tongue-cluck later, a cold cloth had been settled over Ryoko's 
forehead. "I'm almost afraid to ask why you did that; hey, I'll 
just pretend fear doesn't exist. So. why? Aren't gettin' suicidal 
on us, are ya?"
	Ryoko, having worked one of her arms partially free, put a 
hand to the cloth. "Don't you think that if I wanted to kill 
myself, I would've done it where no one could see?"
	"Nah-you'd forget about secrecy."
	"You're being just as annoying as my conscience."
	"Why thank ya!" Washu grinned happily. "'Course, I normally 
would just leave you here to moan and groan, but since you came on 
my account."
	Ryoko rolled her eyes, found this action to be a hazardous 
one, and squeezed them shut. "Washu, I'd really appreciate it if 
you'd quit reading my mind. Be nice if you got off 'a me too."
	Wind gently rattled the mottled leaves around the frozen 
pair-or one member of the pair was frozen, anyway. Washu held her 
breath, her lips pursed in this process, and slowly let it out 
again; had her ears deceived her?
	"What was that?"
	"Huh?"
	"What'd you say?"
	Ryoko opened her eyes and glared at her mother yet again. "I 
said I wished you'd stop reading my mind and that you'd GET OFF! 
Is it so hard to understand?!"
	But Washu had already leapt away, hands to her cheeks, eyes 
half-closed in choked awe. "Ryoko," she whispered, "I didn't read 
your mind."
	Ryoko too was silent-maybe for the fact of awe as well; maybe 
for disbelief. And then it was returned, "You can promise me 
that?"
	"I can."
	"And what are your promises worth?"
	"If it helps, I've never broken one."
	Despite the fierce pain that clawed at the back of her head, 
Ryoko stood and calmly went to Washu's side. She placed her large, 
pale hands on the shoulders of the goddess, and asked, "Would you 
like to see something no one else does?"
	Washu nodded.
	Suddenly the two of them were balancing precariously on a 
shelf of rock high above even the Masaki Shrine; Washu, had she 
been alone, would've promptly fallen off and plummeted a good 
fifty feet before regaining her senses, but the hands on her 
shoulders-good, strong hands-prevented even the slightest notion 
of fear from entering her mind.
	All of her being was focused on the sunset.
	The pulsing, glowing red orb that was the sun quivered amidst 
waves of shimmering heat between two smaller mountains; from it 
sailed ribbons of orange and bronze and a beautiful, trembling 
pink. These ribbons seemed to stretch forever over the brilliant 
blue sky; clouds that would have normally been an ivory white 
glittered a sparkling gold. 
	In a retina-scorching flash, the sun had winked away behind 
the mountains, and it was over.
	When everything added up, Washu felt that it had all been 
worth it-pain, suffering, joy, being sealed within the Soja-just 
to have seen a simple, single sunset with the one she had created 
and named "daughter."
	"We were lucky," she vaguely heard Ryoko say. "A few seconds 
more and we might've missed it."
	But we didn't, Washu thought. She turned her gaze back to her 
daughter and grinned. We surely didn't.
**

	All was quiet as the pair walked away from the bottom of the 
mountain, Ryoko with an arm draped over Washu's shoulder in a mild 
effort to keep her footing. When they reached home Washu fiercely 
insisted she lie down and get a day's worth of rest; neither of 
them felt like sleeping, however. In her mind's eye Washu saw 
another night of tapping incessantly at her console, mind devoid 
of anything save biophysics and pyrotechnics; Ryoko something 
similar, though it did not involve science in any way.
	Both would remember this evening, though-that fact was strong 
and stood out among others.
	And as the sky turned a rich navy above them, Ryoko said, "If 
it helps, I'll call you Mom." Washu had no need to ask for 
assurances; what was true, well, was true. She hastily dabbed at 
her eyes, heart soaring to the stars, and replied,
	"Oh, it does, Ryoko. It really does."


Disclaimer: I don't own Tenchi Muyo! or any of the characters 
involved with it-if you were considering suing me, would you 
please give it a second thought? I have absolutely no money; none 
at all. ::pulls out pockets for inspection:: See?

Notes: This is a hodgepodge of the manga and the anime. Yume is a 
real character that appeared in one of the manga arcs. I dunno 
which one; there are too many for my poor little brain to handle. 
Don't quote me on her truly being a demon, as I tend to assume 
that if I see pointy ears and/or fangs. 
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