Sins of the Past
Part I.
By Unknown
	
3000 years ago:
All he could see was the dust.  Everywhere he looked, the immense cloud blocked 
his vision.  Each particle was no larger than a grain of sand, but it blinded 
him as though he were in an eternal night.  It was as though he was cast into 
the dark pit so often talked about by the organics, a place so horrible that one 
could fall into eternal darkness with no attempt of redemption.  No chance of 
escape.  
That's how the mechanical warlord 239TRU-7 felt at that moment.  In what seemed 
liked nothing more than an instant, everything he had ever worked for had 
vanished.  His entire life was snatched from him like a hawk snatches a snake 
off the ground.  Now, there was no trace of it.  No trace of the mighty empire 
that could have been, no trace of the legacy he was to have left on the 
universe.  All gone.
He had been built to destroy and conquer, and to that purpose, he realized that 
in order to fulfill this programming, he would need an army.  So, he took over 
the nearby village of Braato.  The villagers were pathetically weak, and bound 
by the institution of religion to not fight back.  Even when their lives, and 
the lives of their children were at stake, they would not raise even their 
voices against him.  So odd, he had thought, that those people could have that 
same kind of resilience even in the face of inescapable doom about their 
beliefs.  The warlord had never had any use for beliefs, they were for the weak, 
those who simply couldn't stand the way the universe operated and so they 
invented a being, beings, or forces that controlled these powers and for some 
reason actually cared about what happened to those who worshipped him or it.  If 
there was an all-mighty being, then why would he care about such a pitiful race 
of weaklings?  There entire culture had remained in the tiny village for its 
entire history of well over 10,000 years.  How could it be possible for such 
waste to be allowed?  Why would a being of such power and eminence actually 
promote such activities?  What was to be gained by it?  Over two hundred people, 
who could probably be in the work force helping to maximize production, wasting 
their time in front of some alter or statue or other religious symbol.  It very 
nearly disgusted him, and it made him certain that he would be able to control 
them with minimal difficulty.  He was correct, with only one warning shot that 
destroyed one of the villager's homes and killing a few stupid bystanders who 
were too close to the building to avoid the shrapnel, the entire village bowed 
to his every whim.  He decided to correct the mistake their religion had caused 
by setting all of them to work on creating a factory with which he could build 
an entire army of cybernetic drones he was already creating plans for.  The work 
was tediously slow, largely due to human inefficiency.  Many of the workers were 
old men, all of whom were completely incapable of almost any form of physical 
labor.  Naturally, he had these troublesome elements hunted down and 
exterminated by the first few prototypes of his drones.  It seemed only fitting 
that they should be of some use to him before they died so that he would not 
create the same wastefulness as their religion had.  Every component had to be 
used to its maximum level, and even though it was hardly a challenge for the 
drones to terminate all of their targets, the warlord figured it was necessary 
to give them at least some practice, although their programs were, or at least 
seemed to be flawless.  Within about twelve years, the factory was finally 
completed and he then sent the humans to work in the hills, mining the precious 
natural materials he needed in order to produce the super-structures for his 
drones.  Within just another 4 months, the number of drones reached well into 
the hundreds of thousands, all equipped with the most high-tech weaponry 
available.  
Everything was so perfect, it was all flawless, but then he came.  At first he 
thought the humans were just spreading rumors in order to help boost morale.  
But soon, the talks were becoming more serious and more frequent.  He should 
have taken more precautions from the beginning, but because of his pride and 
ignorance, he didn't, and that would lead to the night that would end all 
chances for him.  It was at the height of his glory, his army completed, his 
battle strategies for attacking the nearby metropolis planet of Baras were 
already planned out, everything was perfect, flawless.  At that moment, right 
before he was about to issue the command for his troops to deploy, he came.  He 
came out of the shadows, somehow immune to the warlord's scanners and those of 
his drones, as though he just appeared there or maybe that he was always there, 
watching him, stalking him, waiting for the right moment to strike.  It took him 
only a few seconds to identify him though, and it appeared impossible.  The 
possibility of it really being him was nearly impossible, and yet somehow 
everything fit.  Height, width, physical structure, preferred clothing articles, 
hair color, even DNA, all matched perfectly, and yet it was still a shock.  The 
one variable his super-computer had failed to consider.  For years he had 
believed to be dead, but he had returned.  Why hadn't he thought of something 
like this, despite its unorthodoxy?  Hadn't his computer considered trillions of 
possible outcomes?  Why wasn't he in any of them?
'I was such a fool,' the machine thought to itself, 'Why didn't I include him in 
the equation?  My computer, my design, my plan was perfect, just as it was 
supposed to be, but...'
The machine suddenly stopped short as he saw something coming out of the dust.  
It was a light, a bright blue light and it was steadily moving closer.  The 
organics often talked about light as a source of good and life, but the warlord 
knew that this light meant death, death at the hands of him.  The unthought-of 
variable, the glitch in his perfect plan, his angel of death.  Immediately, he 
knew it had to be him.  The warlord lifted his arm cannon and fired relentlessly 
at the oncoming light, even though he knew it was futile.  Interesting, the 
warlord thought to himself, I left out another variable, something that even now 
I'm having difficulty comprehending.  Death.  How do I explain death?  I know it 
is coming, I know that I cannot stop my killer, and yet why do I still fight?  
I'm not even technically alive, but still I find myself fighting back with all 
the power I have left on pure reflex.  Why is death such a terror to me?  Why am 
I so afraid to give up my artificial life, when I know that I am nothing more 
than a machine, lower than an atom in the universal spectrum, I have no purpose 
in the grand scheme of things, I have always known and accepted this.  My entire 
point in conquest was to bring about order and maximize productivity and put an 
end to all the great inefficiencies of civilization, but to the universe, the 
heavens, reality, whatever it may be called I am nothing.  My "life" is of no 
importance.  I am merely wasting energy and resources by continuing to fight, 
and yet I cannot stop myself.  He is too powerful and too skilled to be stopped 
by a simple cannon blast.  Regardless, I refuse to give in and fire on and on, 
almost as though it is an obsession with me.  If I make one more blast, I'll be 
safe and can continue on living.  But even if I defeat him, will I be alive?   
Is life such a precious gift that even a machine, who possesses a mock imitation 
of life would do anything it would take to preserve it?  It was then that the 
warlord finally realized something. 
"That is why.  That is why they have religion, that is why they have all of 
these ridiculous customs.  Life is more than just producing endlessly and 
fulfilling quotas.  It is precious, and that is why he is here, to defend life," 
the warlord mumbled at a barely audible level, clearly only saying this to 
himself.  "What have I done?  I have destroyed life without ever clearly 
understanding what it was.  Please, forgive me." 
How sad though, that his revelation was to come too late, the light continued 
its eerie trek towards him, now he could make out two distinct lights.  The 
machine knew the lights were his eyes, which meant there was no doubt doom was 
no more than a few seconds away.  However, he was mistaken, it was no more than 
an instant away as the lights accelerated and a third, bright white light 
appeared, and was brought down onto his head.  For that short instant before he 
went offline, 239TRU-7 thanked his maker he hadn't included pain circuits...



If there was one thing Tenchi Masaki hated more than anything, it was Mondays.  
Mondays, the day after his weekend vacation where he had to return to school.  
Afterwards, he would have to try and find time to study and do his homework 
while trying to avoid Ryoko and Aeka fighting over him, Mihoshi and Kiyone 
fighting about Mihoshi's latest act of unimaginable stupidity, Washu's crazy 
inventions, and Ryo-oki's constant whining for carrots.  Sasami was about the 
only girl at Tenchi's home that didn't drive him insane.  She enjoyed talking to 
Tenchi as much as all the others, but she seemed to have a sixth sense about her 
that told her when he was in a mood to talk and when he wasn't.  This made their 
relationship very easy by allowing him to talk to her about things that were 
bothering him.  Sasami had become so close to Tenchi that she was practically 
his little sister, even though she was actually his great aunt, but Tenchi 
didn't like to think of confusing things like that.  Especially not on a Monday, 
where he knew he would have more than his fair share of things to think about.
	As Tenchi awoke he noticed that outside his window, the sun was shining 
brightly, creating a near blinding, but still beautiful reflection on the 
surface of the lake.  It was because of serene moments like this that Tenchi 
managed to keep going.  Everything was just so peaceful, so in balance.  There 
was nothing harsh or unwelcoming about this, as there was at school or 
downstairs (particularly if Ryoko and Aeka were already there).  Completely 
peaceful.  That was what Tenchi sometimes wished his life could be like, but he 
knew that it could never be so.  He didn't think that he was in love with any of 
the girls staying at his home, but he did care for all of them in their own 
special way.  
He cared for Sasami like a little sister, Mihoshi and Kiyone could always make 
him laugh, Washu was egotistical and had a massive god-complex, but deep down he 
could tell she was a good person.  He always enjoyed Aeka's compassionate 
feelings and her willingness to discuss them.  Finally, Ryoko was cunning, 
manipulative, scheming, rude, and at times seemed 100% self centered, but just 
when Tenchi thought she couldn't get any worse, she always did something to make 
him smile and forget all of her flaws.  No matter how much Tenchi may have 
wanted a normal life, he knew that he could never say good-bye to any of them.
After looking at the sun on the lake for a few more moments, he dressed himself 
in his school uniform and walked downstairs slowly.  Something told him that 
this was going to be a very long day.  The first thing he noticed was Ryoko 
zipping by with something black in her hands, with Aeka running after her.  This 
only confirmed that little thing that told him it was going to be a long day.
"Ryoko!  You devil-women, give me back the remote, they were just getting to my 
favorite part!" Aeka screamed.  At this, Ryoko just smirked.
"You mean where they go into all that stuff about how her life sucks, and about 
how she'll never go hungry again?  Oh please, Aeka, you are such a sappy loser," 
Ryoko taunted, as she pointed the remote at the screen and changed the channel 
to the scene in the Matrix where Keanu Reeves was dodging the bullets from the 
agents.  "Watch and learn, princess, this is a movie."
"Somehow I don't believe that a bunch of computer nerds running around in 
leather outfits shooting at machines implies a good movie.  So if you don't 
mind, I will just take the remote back now."
"Oh really, and just how do you intend to do tha...Tenchi!" Ryoko cut herself 
off as she noticed Tenchi out of the corner of her cat-like eyes.  She then flew 
over to Tenchi and hung onto his neck, using her power of flight to keep the 
rest of herself off the ground.  "Now tell me Tenchi, do you wanna watch some 
sappy movie about a girl who's life sucks, or do you wanna watch a movie with 
great special effects, cool action scenes, and where good triumphs over evil?  
You know, all the good stuff?"
"Personally, I'm just confused as to how you guys got American movie channels in 
the first place."
"Oh, well we were flipping through some channels and came across this ad that 
said for just .45 yen an hour we could watch all the American movies we wanted," 
Ryoko explained.
Tenchi thought this over for a minute, and then he got a grim look on his face.
"Ryoko?"
"Yes?"
"When it said .45 yen an hour, did it show something like this in front of it?" 
Tenchi asked as he took a sheet of paper and drew an American dollar sign.
"Yeah, we were a little confused by that, but we figured it was too good a deal 
to pass up."
"Ryoko, this isn't a yen sign, it's an American dollar sign!  Do you know how 
much the dollar is to the yen?"
"Not really."
"Neither do I, but I do know it's a lot.  How long have you been watching this 
channel?"
"Well they were having a monster movie marathon on last night so I kind of 
stayed up and watched it..." Ryoko began to trail off as she realized that she 
had just screwed up.
"You were up all night watching these channels?!  Ryoko, my dad's gonna kill me 
when he sees the bill for this."
"Tenchi, I would like to take this moment to say that I had absolutely nothing 
to do with this, it was entirely Ryoko's doing," Aeka confessed, smiling very 
sweetly.
"What?!  Why you little back-stabbing, lying..." Ryoko trailed off again as she 
realized Tenchi was looking at her like he was annoyed.  "I swear Tenchi, Aeka 
didn't even show me that sign until this morning, and she had been watching the 
TV for hours before I ever came down.  I swear I had no idea.  Please forgive 
me," Ryoko pleaded as she began to wrap herself around Tenchi in a poor act to 
try and make herself look like a victim.  Tenchi was used to this so his 
response was to simply push Ryoko off. 
 "Don't listen to her Tenchi, she's lying, every word of it!" Aeka shouted. 
Then, Washu came out of her lab, apparently concerned about something.
"Girls, I'm starting to think that maybe we shouldn't have ordered those movie 
channels.  I think that the advertisement meant dollars, not yens.  Oh hello 
Tenchi!  Anyway, considering you guys have each watched around 52 hours of those 
movie channels, we owe roughly about 434."
"434 yen, that's it?" Tenchi asked hopeful.
"No silly, 434 dollars.  I don't even want to think about how much more it will 
be if they find out we hacked into their cable system to get at the channels, I 
mean I think that violates some federal law in America, so there's probably a 
fine.  And then there's probably some law in Japan that makes that illegal, so I 
don't even want to think about how many yens that'll cost you.  But I think I 
will anyway."
"Don't bother, it'll probably be all the money I earn in the next three years 
anyway.  Wait a minute, if you both watched around 52 hours, then you couldn't 
have just gotten this yesterday.  How long have you guys had this?"
"Oh not long, Tenchi, you know a few days, a week, or two, a month..." Aeka 
tried to calmly explain, but when Tenchi heard the word month, he exploded.
"What?!!!!  You hacked into a cable company's broadcast, you never told me about 
this, and you've both watched over 2 days worth of movies?" Tenchi then sat down 
before he really did something stupid.  "Ryoko, Aeka, Washu, promise me 
something?"
"Yes Tenchi?" They all answered in unison.
"Next time you think something has a great price, remember to sure it's in the 
right currency!" Tenchi shouted.
"Don't worry Tenchi, it wont happen again, I promise.  So when's breakfast, 
Sasami?" Ryoko asked, seeming as though Tenchi had never said anything to her 
just then.
"It's almost ready Ryoko, just hold on a few more minutes," Sasami answered back 
from the kitchen.  
Tenchi decided that he should go and talk with Sasami for a while before he let 
his anger get the better of him.  Granted, the three of them had just put him in 
big trouble, but he doubted any of them knew exactly what it was they were 
doing.  Besides, this kind of thing had happened before, and usually something 
happened to set everything right.  Still, he definitely needed some Sasami 
therapy.  He found her wearing her carrot apron and frying bacon in a pan, with 
Ryo-oki happily munching on a spare carrot Sasami wasn't using.  Although it 
seemed all of Sasami's attention was focused on the food, when she heard 
Tenchi's footsteps she turned around and looked at him. 
"Hi Tenchi!" she exclaimed happily.
"Hi Sasami, so what're you making today?"
	"The works.  I'm making bacon, eggs, steam fried vegetables..." Sasami 
listed.  As the list went on and on, Tenchi's mouth began to water for all the 
delicious food Sasami was naming off.
"Sounds delicious Sasami!"
"Thanks Tenchi," then Sasami remembered what she overheard in the other room.  
"Is there something bothering you Tenchi?"
"Oh, Washu, Aeka, and Ryoko somehow hacked into American cable, found an 
advertisement for a movie channel, didn't recognize the difference between a 
dollar and a yen sign and began to order movies from it.  Now we owe hundreds of 
American dollars for all the movies they watched, plus all the fines for hacking 
into the cable system in the first place."
"Gee, that's too bad Tenchi, how much money will that cost total?"
"More than I have...a lot more.  And I'm going to have to be the one to pay for 
it."
"Oh Tenchi, I'm sure they didn't know what they were doing."
"Hey!" Washu shouted from the other room.
"Except for you Washu!" Sasami shouted back to reassure the scientist.
"Thank you!"
"Anyway, Tenchi, don't worry about it, things will turn out fine in the end, 
after all they always do."
Tenchi thought about that and it reassured him to know that she thought the same 
way.  No matter how bad things got, something always happened that got them out 
of trouble (barely).  Sometimes it was something absolutely ridiculous, other 
times it was something miraculous, but whatever it was, it happened.  After 
thinking about this for a few moments, Tenchi began to calm down.
"I suppose you're right Sasami, and anyway, I shouldn't get too worked up about 
it, I have a big test today in biology."
"Really, what's it about?"
"Cell structure of plants.  I asked Washu if she could help me study, but for 
her it was an excuse to try and turn me into a plant."
"It would have worked to if you had just stopped fidgeting!" Washu shouted.  
Tenchi just groaned and lowered his head.  

Yamoto and Musashi had been told on their way to the Imperial Palace of Jurai, 
that it would be the most incredible sight they had ever seen.  As of now, 
neither was impressed.  True, as far as most buildings went, this one was very 
impressive.  The highest of the hundreds of turrets stood well over several 
hundred feet high, so high it seemed almost to be one with the clouds.  Once one 
reached the front gate, from left to right, up and down all he could see would 
be the palace as it seemed to stretch unto the setting and the rising sun, and 
even those from far away would be able to notice it for the entire castle was 
constructed out of shimmering alabaster that gave off a light unlike anything 
anyone was likely to see again.  Then when one got closer, they could notice the 
fine details of artwork etched into every brick, every hinge, and every stone.  
Elegant carvings of mythological plants were carved directly into the palace 
walls and doors.  To look at it made one feel as though he were looking into a 
great garden, rather than a palace, as was the Jurai custom, given their 
emphasis on nature and plants.  Every curve was so perfectly round, every leaf 
so delicately detailed that one could imagine getting lost in the immense 
foliage it created with no hope, or desire of leaving. 
Indeed, the building was magnificent, however it lacked the true essence of 
greatness.  Greatness was not just something that could please the eye, for 
something to truly be great, it had to touch the very soul, had to stir gut 
reactions.  It had to have power.  To the two lone figures, it did nothing of 
the kind.  Each of them made the same conclusion; that this building was built 
by those who believed they held power and it was a sign to reassure themselves 
that they did in fact have that power.  But true power, both of the beings knew, 
did not come from wealth or a fancy showing of material possessions.  No, it was 
far much more than that.  Power stemmed from control of the mind and the soul, 
not the body, as such physical monuments were capable of doing.  That was how a 
poor peasant man who could lead villagers against a king with an unstoppable 
army could have more power than the king.  The king could only rule by brute 
force, and thus could control the labors and actions of his subjects, but the 
poor peasant man could control how they felt, what they thought, thus changing 
their actions.  Yamoto and Musashi had both been witness to such power for 
thousands of years, but saw no such power in this structure, only a hollow, 
empty void surrounded by a mist of gold and false beauty.
The halls and passageways were very similar to the exterior, as was to be 
expected.  The fa‡ade of greatness is often times never truly corrected because 
creating truly great things require effort and risk, but merely elaborating on 
an old lie is child's play.  Every hallway was adorned with tapestries and 
portraits from Jurai's past, praising her heroes and past rulers but at the same 
time providing an insult to all of their struggles.  They were portrayed on the 
finest silk and showed scenes of great battles between Jurai's warriors and 
those who would have destroyed Jurai, but always in such pictures the Juraian 
soldiers were depicted with armor made out of sheer gold with glimmering, silver 
swords completely clean as they raised them up against their enemies, who were 
always dressed in black with gnarled, bearded, and wild-eyed faces.  Were these 
men and the sacrifices they had made not important enough to be depicted 
truthfully?  Or were the writers of the history books and the artists just to 
afraid to admit the mortality of their heroes, their idols, their lives?  Were 
they too frightened to show that those whom they may have based their lives on, 
whom they had looked up to ever since they were children, were just like them, 
mortal, flawed, and timid?  Both Yamoto and Musashi had seen enough combat to 
quickly realize the sheer ludicrousness of the artists' work.  Soldiers are 
trained to remain calm during a battle, but such is rarely the case.  Only the 
truly mighty warriors can achieve peace with themselves and their environment 
during a battle.  It is men such as this who become true heroes, but it is those 
who come out of the battles that become legends.  While most of those who came 
out were cowards who broke down in tears as they saw blood run down across their 
feet, as they saw one of the enemy soldiers slash open a comrade and then turn 
towards them and charge, as they finally realized they were not invincible and 
that in fact they were weak, that they couldn't handle the responsibility.  But 
they could handle the privileges that such responsibility earned.  Fame, money, 
and a sense of power that they could use to exert over others.  But this was not 
true power for deep in their hearts they knew the truth and therefore could 
never achieve peace within their mind or their soul and without power over one's 
self, one could never hope to achieve true power over others.  They could only 
hope to create a mist, a fog within the minds of others, a fog that could never 
hide the truth from the accepting and curious mind, but more than enough to 
block the ignorant and closed minds, those who believed that the world should 
work a certain way, as it always has, for when it goes off of that path, they 
must assume new responsibilities and must alter their state of being.  
However, fog was not true power, a feather, a particle of dust could force the 
clouds to part.  That was why artists created such works to commemorate their 
history, to keep the idea that things are the way they have always been, and 
that things will always be that way.  As if all were required to stand the test 
of time were a few woven strands of silk, statues of marble, strokes of the 
brush.  Power was the key to immortality.  For when one did achieve power, their 
flame never quite went out, for power is something that can never be destroyed.
Finally, after a few minutes of walking around the dark hallways of the palace, 
Yamoto and Musashi arrived at their destination, the imperial throne room.  Here 
was the greatest attempt at power, one that made nearly both warriors' burst out 
laughing.  The entire throne room was filled with pillars of platinum that shone 
brightly due to the huge window that took the place of a roof.  Surrounding the 
great window were more pieces of art, this time depicting scenes, not of nature 
or of historic battles, but of symbols of morals and ethics.  The window was so 
massive it took up nearly the entire ceiling, which itself was maybe two hundred 
meters in diameter, thus causing the artwork to be divided up into four 
different corners, each apparently representing a different aspect of Jurai's 
governmental principles.  One depicted a scale made out of gold and laden with 
jewels.  On one side of the scale was written the phrase meaning guilty, and on 
the opposite side was written not guilty.  Another corner showed a picture of a 
great sword, it too laden with gold and jewels.  On still another corner was 
painted a bounteous feast with various birds, meat, vegetables, wine, and very 
nearly any other delicacy the mind could fathom.  Finally, on the last corner 
was just one symbol, the symbol meaning peace.  How ironic, both warriors 
thought, that such symbols of goodness should appear in such a building.  That 
the promise offered by them should be so shallow as to have all of it wrapped up 
into pathetic pieces of more artwork.  Again they showed nothing of what they 
showed, only of what they chose to see, or of what others told them to see.  The 
scales no doubt represented justice, but how was it just that one class 
dominated another based solely on their birth rather than their own merits?  
Wasn't this the promise of justice?  That it was blind to the people themselves, 
but rather only to the circumstance for which they were to be tried?  However, 
faulty the system was it was protected by the sword, not a sword of protection, 
as it was intended, but rather a sword of oppression, one so magnificent, so 
perfect as to inspire awe at the mere sight of it.  Amazement such that no one 
would dare stand against it, no matter what mockery of justice it protected.  
The image of the feast was the true injustice though, all the food was on the 
top of the table, on top of the social chain, while all that was on the floor, 
or on the base of the hierarchy were rotten pieces joined by the almost barely 
visible rat or cockroach.  It was the scraps on the floor that were to be meant 
for the poor, for the faulty scales had deemed it so, and no one would dare to 
stand up to the sword against the scale about its decision with the food.  
Finally, the peace sign was the ultimate insult, a complete reversal of 
everything it was supposed to stand for.  To place it alongside the other images 
and to place the images in such a building with such people in it made it not a 
symbol of peace, but oppression.  Peace was obtained for the rich nobility, but 
for the poor and the commoners it embodied all the injustices shown by the three 
other paintings.  It was almost a physical incarnation of hypocrisy, that one 
could declare peace directly in front of such things would be almost laughable.  
Indeed, there was no truth inside this room as there was in none of the others, 
and like all the others it was another pitiful attempt to exert power, to 
demonstrate it, to create it...It would be all too easy.
"We seek Azusa, king of planet Jurai," Yamoto boomed out through the throne 
room, is deep voice echoing off the walls just as the light did.
"You have found him," said a rather aged man sitting across the throne room.  At 
his response, Yamoto and Musashi approached him and began to get a better look 
at him.  He was no different from any portion of his palace.  He still 
maintained the air of superiority that created a foul stench throughout the 
palace.  It was obvious in his eyes as Yamoto and Musashi approached him, that 
he felt more than just physically elevated above them, that he was somehow, on 
some other plane of being, above them.  He was disillusioned by his surroundings 
just as his subjects were intended to be.  How interesting, that the trick made 
to make some feel low could elate others so tremendously, both Yamoto and 
Musashi thought.  He absorbed all the false power emanating from the palace like 
a sponge, even though, as the two warriors often found, a sponge could be a 
better ruler than they.  These men were felt so lofty that they found themselves 
living in another world, full of treasures that they desire.  But the treasure 
never lasts long for it grows old and tiresome and so more arrives for them to 
wallow in.  But when an actual responsibility of their position rears its head, 
the men would simply order it away, for it distracted them from attaining new 
treasures for them to discard almost immediately.  They believed that because of 
the treasures that were being handed to them without them having to do nothing 
but request it, that they must have power.  The power to summon the treasures 
and that that power, supreme in their world must be supreme in all other worlds 
so they attempt to force it onto the other worlds.  That was why monarchies were 
always the easiest, because there was so little to work towards.  This man 
however, possessed a certain awareness of his current real surroundings that 
many kings Yamoto and Musashi had dealt with in the past lacked.  Like other 
monarchs, he looked down upon them with a sense of superiority, but this man 
looked down upon them not as unworthy but as those coming to him for assistance, 
those in need that he would try to help.  It was a noble intention, but the 
belief of his own superiority still lingered and that is what would make him 
ineffective, never being able to fully comprehend the problem and therefore 
never being able to offer a complete solution.  Such was the way with all mortal 
leaders, Yamoto and Musashi had discovered, even those elected democratically.  
Always when mortals were presented with positions of power they began to enter 
into the treasure world however little time they spent there.  It was still 
painfully obvious that they spent their time there, exercising the same power in 
the real world they possessed in their make believe world, buying expensive 
luxury items, looking down at commoners, the only saving grace they possessed 
was guilt.  Guilt that based on instances outside of their control, they were 
allowed into the treasure world, this they saw in Azusa.    Perhaps he would not 
be as easy as they had first predicted, but as was the universal nature of 
sentient beings, he was clearly seduced by the scent of material wealth and 
false power, which still made it possible, if not difficult, to carry out their 
mission.
"I am Yamoto, and this is my comrade, Musashi."
Azusa stared at the two dark clad figures before him.  Both were of exactly 
equal height and width, but other than that there was almost nothing Azusa could 
determine from their appearance, for both of them wore hooded black cloaks, 
covering every inch of their body, and shadowing their faces from view.  Azusa 
had never heard either of the names before, but still there was something 
familiar about both of them, as if there was some unspoken, unseen force at work 
within both of the two mysterious beings.  The force, although subtle, 
penetrated seemed to hang heavy in the air and seeped in through his pores as 
the force raced to his brain and his soul.  It was a sensation unlike he had 
ever felt, completely new to him, but at the same time something he had felt a 
thousand times over.  It gave him a terrible chill to feel this power at first, 
but then it provided almost a sense of warmth of security.  It was as though it 
now wrapped itself around him like a warm blanket and coaxed him to go to sleep, 
but still there was a corner of himself crying out for him to remain awake, that 
something wasn't right, but the warmth, the protection, it was so wonderful.  
The power stayed there for almost an eternity, before Azusa suddenly remembered 
where he was.
"I regret that I have heard of neither of you.  Perhaps you could enlighten us, 
just who are you?"
"We are nobody, and yet we are somebody, and we are anybody," Musashi spoke.  
Azusa merely looked on with confusion.  He looked over to his wives, who 
displayed the same look.  
"I fear that your explanation has offered us very little on your identity.  
Could you explain that to us?"
"Explain?  Explaining requires an open mind both on the part of the explainer 
and those he explains it to.  It opens up doors locked with the key of mystery, 
but not everyone can open it, and even fewer can tolerate the sight that they 
may behold once they do."
"Please, I am in no mood for riddles," Azusa said, beginning to become 
irritated.  "Why have you come, answer me straight."
"Very well, we have come to assist you, in finding the correct path."
Azusa now was completely baffled.  What path were they talking about?  Perhaps 
these were monks of some strange religious sect, but then there was still that 
eerie feeling, that feeling of the caress of darkness.  But somehow, he found he 
could not say no to them, that he knew they had some great power that he could 
neither tell nor even begin to comprehend, and it was a power that he couldn't 
resist.
 "Oh, well in that case, would you care to walk with me in my garden?  There we 
can discuss this path of yours."
"Very well."
The gardens of Jurai were of the same style as the palace itself.  A sign of 
imaginary power and control.  It was made to appear as though the plants grew 
wild and free, to demonstrate that even nature herself had chosen these rulers 
to lead them by growing in such a way as to magnify the beauty and splendor of 
the palace.  But to the trained eye, the chains that civilization kept over 
nature were still evident.  It was still clear that some offensive branches had 
been cut, just for possibly creating a tiny, unwanted shadow upon a balcony or 
in a window.  The grass remained at a constant length throughout the garden 
while in nature, it was hardly so, obviously it was kept this way.  No moss or 
fungus grew anywhere, while even on Juraian Trees there would be some sign of 
the natural way of plants.  Nature was still being tampered with for the benefit 
of man, but not all men, only the select few who just happened to have had the 
right vessels to enter into this world.  This entire planet was perfect.
"First of all, I would like to be blunt with the two of you," Azusa said, 
turning towards them after admiring a flower he had just picked.  "I am not fond 
of such cults that would worship acts of evil or violence, so if you have come 
for that purpose then I suggest that you leave immediately."
"If you don't like acts of evil, then perhaps you should have said something to 
your father, King Azuya, one of the most feared conquerors the universe had ever 
seen," Yamoto said, without any hint of emotion.
"My father?" Azusa asked.  Azusa had no idea what the two beings before him were 
talking about.  Yes his father had fought several wars in his time, but he was 
never a conqueror...or was he?  No, it was impossible; Azusa would've remembered 
such things.  But suddenly, he did!  He could remember with full clarity things 
he could not have before, his father, with a wile hungry look in his eye and 
with a massive army behind him.  Azusa knew that the Jurai army had never been 
that large or that well equipped, and yet they were there, directly in his 
memory.  Then, he saw his father raise his sword and call out the command to 
charge.  The entire army rushed forward sounding battle cries that could be 
heard from miles away, but when the soldiers reached their destination, they 
didn't see the enemy, all they saw was a tiny village with hundreds of 
frightened people attempting to flee.  This never happened, Azusa thought to 
himself, it couldn't have happened.  What's going on, my father never attacked 
civilians, these things never happened and yet I can remember every minute of 
it, but how?  My father never even brought me along to the battles, and yet I 
can see these things as though I were here.  What his happening to me?
"My father only fought for peace," Azusa finally replied, trying to defend his 
father's honor while still coping with the new memories he was receiving.
"Hardly, of what peace do you speak?  If any kind of fight for peace can be 
ascribed to him it would be economic peace, for all the riches he so 
triumphantly carried back with him to Jurai surely must have aided in 
stabilizing the economy, or did just perhaps help line his own pockets?  And 
those of his son?" Musashi asked, as Yamoto and he, who had up till now always 
been side by side, split apart, and began to encircle Azusa, almost seeming as 
though they were floating about him.
Again, new terrible memories flooded Azusa's mind as he saw his father storming 
some castle somewhere, butchering the guards and anyone else inside.  Yet this 
couldn't be true, his father had never done anything like this, he had always 
taken prisoners, but he was killing all of these even those who surrendered in 
this memory, and he seemed to enjoy it.  Then Azuya reached his destination, the 
treasure rooms, but by this point he had killed so many that his fingers dripped 
with the blood of those he had slain.  It made Azusa nearly vomit in disgust, as 
Azuya took up a small trinket of gold with his bloody hand and watch his eyes 
gleam with satisfaction as he lifted it above his head and let out a terrible 
cry of satisfaction.  No!  Azusa thought, it cannot be true!  My father didn't 
do anything like this, these things can't be real, but they are, no they can't 
be, they can't!!!
"He did nothing of the sort!  He was a man of the people and would never lead 
his beloved nation into war without good reason!" Azusa snapped in fury, 
attempting to deny his memories of the events.
"If you mean he was a person, yes we do not deny this, but there the comparison 
ends.  He sacrificed his humanity in the pursuit of power, which he thought were 
in the form of wealth and territory.  He had no more room inside his heart for 
love, only for lust, lust after power."
"That's not true!  Everything you're saying is a lie!"
"Even his own son couldn't wedge a place within his heart."
"Stop it!"
"That is why he led the charge of Gabuyia."
At this, new memories appeared before Azusa.  This time he was on top of an 
enormous black horse with a huge sword in his right hand.  He too had an army 
behind him, but it couldn't be true, Azusa had never fought a war.  He didn't 
even know what a horse was, but yet it was there, his army was there, he was 
there.
"Stop it!"
"And why even after the charge was over, and the enemy defeated..."
Now Azusa saw himself raise the sword, just as he had seen his father do and 
scream the order to charge, this time, not into a village, but into a temple.  A 
temple where thousands of frightened women, children, and monks merely hid from 
the fury of the oncoming horde, which Azusa was at the head of.  Now Azusa knew 
that it couldn't be true, he had never led a charge, but the sensation of riding 
into battle, the almost pleasure of hearing the screams of terror as he and his 
army hacked away at the doors, and then seeing the terror on their faces.  Azusa 
knew he couldn't have done such things; he would never do these things!  He 
didn't believe in such barbarianism, and yet he saw himself doing it, felt 
himself doing it, remembered himself doings it.  Then he realized, the images 
weren't true, they weren't, and he suddenly remembered Yamoto and Musashi were 
still encircling him, they were doing this!  But how, how could they be doing 
this when he could remember everything so clearly?
"Stop it!  Get out of my mind!  Get out!  Get out!" Azusa screamed defiantly.
"Get out, but we have been with you for so long, why are you turning us out 
now?"
"What are you talking about?!  I have never seen either of you before in my 
life!"
"There you go lying again Azusa.  Why do you lie?  Is it because you think that 
it somehow makes things better when you lie?  Well we are here to inform you 
have seen us before, you have felt our presence before, and you desire it 
again."
"You are dismissed, I no longer wish to see you!"
"Now don't go saying that.  You know perfectly well that you'll never get 
anywhere without us.  You need us, just as you always have."
"What are you talking about?  Talk straight, no more riddles!"
"What riddles?"
"Silence!  Get out!  Guards seize them!" Azusa ordered as the two strangers 
words continued to sink deeper and deeper with a kind of mysterious truth that 
Azusa could not explain or even begin to understand, and yet part of him 
understood perfectly what they meant, he only wished that his brain would share 
this information with the rest of him.
The Juraian imperial guard came within an instant of their king's harking, 
energy swords above their heads, ready to swing.  And just as quickly as they 
came, they were down on the ground, unconscious or dead, Azusa couldn't tell 
which.  At first Azusa was simply overcome with astonishment and couldn't take 
in anything around him, but then he looked up from the fallen bodies of his 
bodyguards, to Yamoto and Musashi.  Each had separated their cloak in order to 
use weapons they were somehow keeping underneath their robes.  In Yamoto's hand 
was a staff with a spiked mace at the end while in Musashi's hand was a staff 
with a blade resembling a quarter of a circle at the end.
"We are impressed Azusa, a weaker man would have given in to our mind games.  
Yes, you are correct in believing all those things were false.  They were merely 
things we implanted into your brain.  There isn't even a planet called Gabuyia, 
but you felt it didn't you?"
	"Yes," Azusa, said almost in a state of shock.
"You felt exactly what we told you to feel didn't you?"
"Yes."
	"But you had no idea we told you to think those thoughts, did you?"
"No."
"You thought they were real, didn't you?"
	"Yes."
At this, both Yamoto and Musashi chuckled. "That was a mere taste of our power, 
the power granted to us by our master."
"Who is your master?"
"That's not for a pathetic mortal like yourself to know.  Just know this, no 
one, not you, nor anyone else, will stop his will.  If you will not give in to 
false memories, we will simply have to utilize other options," Yamoto said in a 
very low and threatening voice.  With that, Musashi raised the hand without a 
weapon in it and held it directly in front of Azusa's face.  Azusa just looked 
on with amazement, almost completely unaware of where or when he was, but he was 
brought back for a split second, only to be engulfed in anguish unlike anything 
he had ever known as an eerie violet light grew around Musashi's palm.  It 
suddenly felt as though a thousand swords were being rammed through his brain, 
but rather than dying, he continued to live, only to experience more pain, and 
more.  He tried to force the swords out, but it was in vain, the pain was too 
much and soon, every ounce of energy he had used to resist was gone.  His mind 
was black, emptied out by Musashi's power.
"Now, Azusa, you will do our master's bidding," Yamoto commanded.
"I will obey your master," Azusa, or at least Azusa's body said, kneeling before 
Yamoto and Musashi who had both put away their weapons.
"You will permit us to return for the Festival of the Humdar."
"I will permit you to return for the Festival of the Humdar."
"You will also invite several other people to the festival.  Your daughters, 
Princess Aeka and Sasami, and your son, Prince Yosho."
"I will invite Aeka, Sasami, and Yosho."
"But most importantly, you will ask that they bring someone along with them."
"They will bring someone with them."
"He is the most important part of your mission, he must be there."
"He will be there."
"Tell them to bring along...Tenchi Masaki."
"I will tell them to bring along Tenchi Masaki."
"Excellent, now go back to your throne room before others become worried."
"Yes," Azusa said as he rose up and walked past Yamoto and Musashi, still in his 
trance.  Once out of sight of both of the beings, he returned to his normal 
state of mind, but he could remember nothing of what had just occurred, he 
simply kept on walking back to the throne room.
"It is done, Master Daishi," Yamoto said in a low voice to someone who was not 
there, and yet he apparently was there.
"Excellent," replied a voice that seemed to come from nowhere.  Neither Yamoto 
nor Musashi even bothered to look around, for the voice didn't appear to emanate 
from a physical source, but rather from some other plane.  As if it were a 
ghost, a spirit, or a demon.  "Then you will have access to this planet during 
the Humdar.  Will the boy be there?"
"Yes, it has already been arranged."
"Perfect.  Simply perfect.  Soon, the darkness will spread across not only this 
planet, but all planets in this pitiful realm.  None will escape my fury.  You 
know what you are to do when you see the boy?"
"Yes, we are to steal the sword."
"Wait a minute, how do you know the sword will be there?  Remember, the boy is 
useless without his sword."
"Don't worry my master, I will take care of it personally while Yamoto readies 
for the Humdar," Musashi assured Daishi.
"Very well then, but remember, it is not yet time to reveal ourselves, if you 
are going to that wretched plant, Earth, as I'm nearly sure you are, keep 
yourself out of sight.  Is that understood?"
"Yes, my master."
"Master?" Yamoto inquired.  "What are we to do with the boy once we have the 
sword?"
"Kill him.  Unless you sense there could be resistance."
"No, my master.  There is no one in this universe capable of resisting your 
power.  No one can stop you."
"I know, that's what makes it so perfect."

All he could see was mist.  Everywhere he looked it blanketed everything.  As he 
looked out across the foggy street, he saw people who he knew saw the fog as 
something that would bog down traffic and screw up business.  Of coarse, very 
few things didn't make people complain about something.  He believed it was the 
human condition to never be truly satisfied.  There would always be some tiny 
bump in the road of life, some were paved with more asphalt than others, but 
there would always be potholes.  However, people were starting to turn 
everything into a pothole.  Even a tiny incidence, like the fog, was another 
excuse to mindlessly babble with their friends about how their life sucked and 
how they wished it would end.  They had been whining about such petty issues 
that he wondered if they even knew what a serious problem was anymore, much less 
how to handle one.  They had never known pain, they had never known sorrow, but 
he had.  They had no idea what it was like to know that your entire life was 
meaningless, that everything you had ever tried to live up to was gone in an 
instant, but he had.  They had no idea what it was like to live a life with 
absolutely no chance of escape, a world without hope, but he had.  He had 
experienced all the greatest pains Fate could possibly throw.  There was nothing 
that would make him worse off then he already was, for without hope, the rest 
was meaningless.  And he had no hope, and he hadn't for over four millennium.  
He had tried to create hope, but it all failed, and rocketed him into an even 
lower area of suffering then he thought he could have been in before.  It always 
worked like that, as though he had some kind of shield around him, an aura that 
fended off hope and anything else that could restore the shattered remains of 
his humanity, if there were any remains left that is.  But he didn't care 
anymore, he just didn't care.  
That was why many had stood where he stood now, in front of the bar.  Here he 
had seen others like him, sell out their morals and ethics for a small glass of 
an escape, an escape that lasted only a few brief seconds, but it was an escape 
nonetheless.  But like all other attempts at happiness, once the escape was gone 
and they were once again sucked back into the void of the real world, they 
landed in a deeper realm of misery, and so they would need another escape, and 
another, and another.  Until finally it did nothing for them, it didn't give 
them an escape.  He had tried to make it work for him, but very early on he 
discovered that he was already too low to be helped.  He didn't know why he went 
in, it was just some unspoken urge to go in.  He was not an alcoholic, he didn't 
want companionship with anyone, and he certainly didn't need advice from anyone, 
but he went in nonetheless.  Just like everywhere else he had gone, it was 
completely aimlessly.
"What'll it be, bub?" asked a scruffy, fat, stout, and bearded man from behind 
the bar, whom he assumed was the bartender.  After a few seconds of complete 
silence, the man asked again.  "Hey, you def or somethin?  I asked you a 
question, whadda you want?" Still more silence.  "What, you just wanna those 
guys who just comes in here?  All right, so what's your story?" Silence.  "Okay, 
you don't want a drink, and you don't have a story.  What do you want?" The 
bartender asked one more time.  Still, the man never even spoke.  The bartender 
wasn't exactly sure what to make of him, here was a guy, a big guy, comes in 
completely covered by a black cloak, with a hood to cover up his face, making it 
impossible to determine anything about him.  But just from the way he was 
sitting, shoulders slightly hunched, back slightly bent forwards and head tipped 
downward, the bartender could tell that something was troubling the hooded man 
deeply, but since he didn't appear to want to talk, or couldn't talk, he decided 
to leave this one be.
At that moment, a pack of about five men came into the bar.  It was obvious who 
and what they were...mercenaries.  Bounty hunters and assassins never worked in 
groups, at least not by choice, and these five seemed to enjoy themselves quite 
well, another distinct quality of mercenaries.  Other paid killers were very 
solemn, but mercenaries it seemed were always happy about something.  They 
always laughed and drank alcohol and asked for the most beautiful (and cheap) 
waitresses to serve them.  Whatever made them so happy was a mystery.  Maybe it 
was because they had survived another mission, that they had looked death in the 
eye, escaped, and now had another short chance to live life to its fullest.  
This had a drawback to it though; it made mercenaries the most unruly of the 
paid killers.  Always, their arrogance at having survived battle and getting 
paid thousands for it made them feel as though they were better than everyone 
else, that some divine power had decided that they should be better than 
everyone else, and they should be free to do as they pleased with them.  The 
bartender had had several instances such as this, where mercenaries would come 
into his bar already drunk off their lid and asking for more.  Unlike some of 
the larger and wealthier bars, this one had no "available" waitresses, but this 
didn't stop mercenaries from trying some of what they called, "friendly 
persuasion" techniques on the girls.  On one particularly bad occasion, a group 
of about twenty mercenaries came in and ordered a whole keg full of whisky.  The 
poor girl who delivered it to them, had often times been called blessed because 
of her natural beauty and charm, and her boyfriend, who was another employee in 
the bar, was considered the luckiest guy in the universe.  But the head 
mercenary, after seeing the girl for just a few minutes, hit on her, and when 
she refused, he tried to use brute force.  She got away before he even got 
close, but it didn't stop the mercenary from continuing to come after her.  Then 
her boyfriend arrived out of the kitchen with a cutting knife to protect his 
girl.  Without a second thought, the mercenary removed a Juraian 52 level laser 
pistol, and killed them both on the spot.  From that moment on, the bartender 
swore he would never allow mercenaries in his bar again, and he wasn't about to 
make an exception for these punks.
"Hey, I don't serve your kind!" the bartender shouted.
"What the hell do you mean?" asked the man who appeared to be the head of the 
group.  He had straight blond hair that reached all the way to his shoulders, 
and a messy, but short blonde beard and mustache to go with it.  He also had a 
tattoo of a skull and crossbones on his left cheek, the standard image of a 
mercenary.  His four comrades weren't much different.  One had a short buzz cut 
with a long rat-tail on the back of his head.  This one had a very pudgy face 
while his leader had a moderately long face, and he looked like he either had 
trouble seeing, or he was angry because he seemed to be squinting, hopefully 
because he had trouble seeing because if it was to scare people, it backfired.  
It made him look like a huge gorilla, and actually, gorilla was the correct 
choice of words, he was the biggest of the five by far and his arms seemed way 
too big for him, reaching all the way down to his thighs when he hung them down 
loosely.  Another was about the same size as the leader, but this one had jet-
black hair, and his right eye was gone and in its place was a glowing, red 
visual scanning unit.  Besides that, he was pretty normal, about what one would 
expect in terms of height and weight for someone his age, which was probably 
within his mid-twenties if he was human.  The other two, unlike their comrades 
who all possessed unique looks of their own, looked exactly alike.  They both 
too had jet-black hair and had distinctly Oriental faces.  They were both the 
exact same height and even stood in the same position, with their arms folded 
across their chest.  It didn't take a genius to guess that the two were probably 
twin brothers.  
"What's wrong with our kind, old man?" the leader continued, approaching the bar 
and speaking in a sarcastic, yet sinister tone.  "Or you afraid of us?  Huh?  
Afraid we might destroy somethin, afraid we might hurt somebody?  Oh, well I 
assure you, sir, we aint never gonna do anything like that, I promise.  
Hahahahahahahahah!" At this, all the mercenaries began to burst out laughing.
"I don't give a damn about what you promise, I wont serve mercenaries," the 
bartender persisted.  At this, the leader looked at the bartender, now in a 
totally threatening way.
"Well then, if you wont serve us, guess we'll just have to serve ourselves, wont 
we?" the leader asked, grabbing the bartender by his shirt and pulling his upper 
body over the bar.  A few seconds of tension filled time passed before the 
leader shoved the bartender against a wall full of various bottles of alcohol, 
smashing many of them, and knocking the bartender unconscious.
"Anyone else?!  Huh?!  Anyone else got a problem with us bein here?" the leader 
threatened to the entire bar, then he noticed the hooded man sitting at the bar, 
as he had been when they had come in.  "Hey you, you gotta problem with us?" 
There was no answer, the hooded man didn't even respond with a gesture of the 
body.  "Hey asshole, I asked you a question, you gotta problem with us?" 
Silence.  "All right, you don't want to talk to me, then your gonna get what you 
deserve.  Boys, take him!" the leader ordered, and with that, the gorilla and 
the two twins pulled the hooded man up and held his arms so he couldn't move, 
although there was no point as the cloaked man wasn't resisting at all.  Then 
the leader eyed him maliciously for a few seconds before punching him in the 
gut.  The hooded man didn't appear to notice at all, he didn't bend over in 
pain, he made no sound, it was as though the deadly mercenaries were nothing 
more than insects to him, they didn't bother him in the slightest.  The leader 
tried it again, this time to his head, but he couldn't even make the hooded 
man's head move, he just stood there, perfectly frozen like some elaborate ice 
sculpture.  But then, the one with the cybernetic eye, thought of something.  As 
the leader continued to try and make the man even so much as flinch, the cyborg 
pulled back the hooded man's cloak and reached into a back pocket.  What he 
pulled out almost made him burst out laughing.  It was so completely unexpected, 
and so stupid that he had to show everyone.
"Hey guys look at this!  This guy has a..." the cyborg began, but he never 
finished, for within just a second of the cyborg taking the object, the hooded 
man through off both the gorilla and the twins, and without even the slightest 
hesitation, grabbed the cyborg's head and twisted it around so that it was 
completely backwards, severing his spine and killing him instanty.
The leader just stood there stunned for a moment, but then he finally responded, 
"You son of a bitch!!! I'm gonna blow you away for that!!!" he screamed as he 
reached for his pistol and began to fire wildly at the hooded man, but the shots 
appeared to have no effect on him, and even if they did, they couldn't stop the 
hooded man from throwing a punch at the leader that went straight through his 
torso.  The leader felt no pain, his shock was too deep for that, but he was 
losing blood fast and his innards were beginning to spill out onto the floor, 
putting him first into a very brief state of unconsciousness, and then into the 
endless abyss of death.  
Upon seeing the leader and the cyborg killed, the other three mercenaries rushed 
the hooded man, but it was pointless.  He took them down with even greater ease 
than he had the leader and the cyborg.  The gorilla he took out by slicing at 
his jugular vane with a powerful swing from his right hand, blocking off air 
flow to the gorilla's brain, literally choking him to death.  The twins he 
finished off by grabbing both of their heads and smashing them together.  Though 
their skulls remained largely intact, the shock was enough to destroy their 
brains, thus killing them.  The hooded man then looked at what he had done, he 
had just killed five men.  Five lives were gone from the universe forever.  They 
could never be restored, the hooded man could never take back his actions, they 
were gone.  And yet, the hooded man felt no remoarse.  This was his life, it was 
everything to him, as ironic as it seemed death had always been his life.  
Perhaps it was because at first he longed for power, but then he came to realize 
that power didn't come in the ability to destroy lives.  It didn't come in 
bullets, lasers, or swords, it came from something much deeper than that.  Now, 
he fought mainly because death intrigued and enchanted him.  Eternal slumber, 
eternal rest, eternal peace, that was what he longed for and death was the only 
way he knew to achieve that.  Maybe that's why he fought, the hooded man thought 
to himself, maybe that's why he didn't care about the fact that he had destroyed 
the most precious gift mortals possessed in five instances within a matter of 
seconds.  But life wasn't important to him anymore, only death, death was the 
only thing that was left for him.  He did not truly desire it, but at the same 
time he did for he knew that he must go somewhere, and death was the last place 
to go.  Nowhere else was he welcome anymore.  The land of the living was not for 
him even though he had a pulse.  Life didn't mean pulses, life lines, heart 
beats and things like that, that could be duplicated in a laboratory.  Life was 
something that could never be copied nor fully comprehended, nor could it be 
destroyed.  For true Life revolved around power, true power, and power can never 
be destroyed.  The hooded man had known Life at one time, in one place, but no 
more.  It was gone and it was never coming back.  So as the hooded man left the 
bar, he looked at all of those around him, living people.  They are alive, he 
thought, but I am already as one with the dead.  
	To be continued...
*Okay, if your reading this, that means you read this whole fanfic so 
congradulations.  If you got feedback for me, great!  Please send it to me, even 
if you think this sucked.  But if you did think that my story sucks tell me how 
I can make my next one better.  I'll try and finish the second part to this as 
soon as I can, but considering that I have to survive all the powers of Hell at 
school, don't hold your breath waiting.  Thanks!
*Remember, I don't own a lot of these characters in this story.  Some of them 
are completely original and if they resemble any other characters, it is 
completely and totally coincidental.  The characters I don't own are pretty easy 
to recognize, they're all the characters who have ever appeared in any Tenchi 
series.  All the others are original and don't use them without my permission.  
Please don't sue me, besides it would be pointless as the highest amount of 
money I could give would be all the loose change in my couch.