========================================================================= DISCLAIMER: This is one part of a multi-part story. It has been modified as a .txt document for the Tenchi Muyo! Fan Fiction Archive (www.tmffa.com) and can be viewed with its original bold/italics at FanFiction.Net (www.fanfiction.net). "Tenchi Muyo!", Washu, and all related images and properties are (c) Pioneer and AIC Animation. This is a work of fan-fiction. The author has received no monterary compensation. Any attempt to profit from this document in any way is punishable by law. To leave feedback, send fan-art, or make arrangements to host this fic on your website, please contact me at takisjoh@msu.edu ========================================================================= WASHU'S LULLABY A "Tenchi Muyo!" Novel by John Takis ========================================================================= - PART II - THE STUDENT ========================================================================= "Washu? Hakubi Washu?" Washu, hiding behind a large pillar, stubbornly ignored the call. "Washu! Everyone is waiting! Why don't you answer, Washu?" She risked a quick glance and saw the person who was calling her name moving behind the massive crowd. The woman was three years older than she, with silvery gray hair that cascaded down her neck and pooled at her shoulders. Two particularly thick lengths of hair hung vertically from her temples, resting in front of her ears. She had thin, questing eyes ... eyes which were intently searching for Washu. The woman had introduced herself as Akara Naja. She had approached Washu after the transport had landed, and claimed to be Washu's "guide," being a fellow Philosophy Major with some experience. That hadn't sounded so bad to Washu. But Naja had not been alone. Filling the hangar and the outside city were thousands of flags, on which were written "Welcome! Ms. Hakubi Washu." There had been a brass band, the student police (turned out in full dress uniform), young children waving brightly colored banners ... all waiting for her, Washu, as if they were greeting a high-ranking diplomat instead of an eighteen-year old foundling from a backwater planet. Naturally, Washu had received a beautiful and elaborate send-off from her home planet, but this ... this was ridiculous. The sheer amount of species and planets represented was staggering, and not altogether coherent. The noise alone was deafening. And so Washu had smiled and waved and plunged into the crowd. She then forced her hair under a small cap, covered her face, and broke for the nearest pillar to hide behind. Abruptly, Naja looked her way, and Washu ducked back. It was too late. The good natured Junior approached Washu with a happy smile. "There you are, Washu! You must have gotten lost! Come on! You're running behind schedule." "Get knocked!" Washu yelled over the din. "How can I go out there?" She peeped out from behind the pillar and wondered if it were possible to simply buy a ticket back to Kanemitsu. Maybe no one would recognize her. Maybe ... "Hey, Naja! Welcoming a new student?" One of the students from the crowd had walked up to Naja. Washu used the opportunity to run over to the next pillar while Naja's head was turned. "Oh, yes!" Naja was telling the other student. "She's a genius! They say she's the best the Academy has ever accepted. But she's going to be late if ..." Naja turned, puzzled. "Where did she go?" The student attempted to keep talking to Naja, but she brushed him aside. Turning, she caught a glimpse of Washu's hair, which was resisting the hat with which Washu had attempted to cover it. "Oh, there she is!" Washu cursed and ran into the crowd. Naja sprinted after her, and Washu saw that the older girl was carrying one of those damnable flags, waving it like a standard of war. "Why are you running away, Washu?" There was a chorus of puzzlement from the crowd as Washu pushed people out of her way indiscriminately. "Look! It's Akara Naja! And she's chasing the new girl!" one of them cried. "The genius!" cried another. "Don't let her get away!" came a third voice. Within moments, Washu found herself pursued by a virtual army of bystanders. The air burned in Washu's lungs. Her legs felt about to give out. She could feel the crowd closing in, thousands of eyes homing in on her. Then she burst into a brief section of open platform. She looked around wildly. It was some sort of transit station. Naja emerged onto the platform, followed by the crowd. Washu could see several media cameras hovering above them. Without reservation, she turned and jumped inside the door of the nearest taxi. "Department of Philosophy!" she called to the driver. He nodded and motioned for her to have a seat. Finally relaxing, she sat down and picked up a newspaper which had been discarded on the seat. Her eyes widened and she made a strangled noise of frustration. The paper was not an hour old, the front page article already detailing her attempted escape. Washu sighed and covered her face with the paper. It was going to be a long day ... * * * A short time later, Naja caught up to Washu in the lobby of the Department of Philosophy. "Ms. Naja ..." Washu began. Naja cut her off with a laugh. "Just Naja, please, Washu. Or should I call you: the greatest genius in the Academy!" "Thanks to you," Washu muttered. "Oh, it wasn't my doing," Naja said. "one is interested in the Girl Genius!" Washu thought incredulously. She sank down into the cushions of the lounge chair and closed her eyes. Naja was bobbing her head at the latest updated news flier -- new ones seemed to appear inexplicably on a minute-to-minute basis. "You really are a genius," she bubbled. "I had calculated that it would take me precisely thirty-three minutes and thirty-three seconds to catch up with you. You threw off my results by two seconds!" Washu was amazed. "You had it down that close?" "By the way, Ms. Genius ..." Washu held up a hand in protest. "Hey, it was only two seconds! Please stop calling me that!" "Okay," Naja said, nodding agreeably. "Then can I call you Washu-chan?" "Er ... I'm not so sure ..." Naja ignored her. "Thanks. Washu-chan, do you have a boyfriend?" "What? I just got here!" "Oh, you would tell me, wouldn't you Washu-chan? Come on. You don't have one, do you? Do you?" Washu was speechless for several seconds. "No ... no I don't," she finally choked out. "Then there isn't anyone else!" Naja said, clapping her hands. "You look awfully pleased." "Oh? It's just because I don't have one either." She cocked her head and smiled. "We're the same, aren't we, Washu-Chan?" Washu thought to herself. Washu had never dated at the monastery, but she thought she had a pretty good idea what boys wanted. Washu and Naja weren't it. "I'm sure we'll be good friends, Washu-chan," Naja said effusively. Washu gritted her teeth together. "Little Washu" was a fine enough title when it had come from the Reverend Mother ... when she was a baby. But it seemed she was now stuck with it. "I know the Academy like I know my own garden. If you ever have any questions about your new home, please feel free to ask me." "Have you been here long?" Washu asked. Naja smiled. "I was born here." * * * The Science Academy was not the only institution on the planet, it turned out. There was an entire infrastructure set up to accommodate the life which the planet supported, including living quarters for not only the students, professors and staff, but for their families. Most students lived near their departmental buildings, but some ventured out into the more obscure regions of the countryside, travelling via the sophisticated airbus system or relying exclusively on the computer networks. A small group of students was even mobile -- camping from place to place by car or boat, taking classes as they traveled. Of course, not all the students were rich enough to afford such an indulgent lifestyle. Some literally worked, ate and slept in the department buildings as they worked off student loans. It was not un- common to see mounds of sleeping bags piled up in the building lobbies like barricades. It was an appropriate simile ... some of the departments could accurately be described as "at war." There was a special group called the Student Committee to deal with such problems ... for the Academy had all the problems of any populated world. The largest difference was that the majority of its people worked for the advancement of knowledge. * * * "We're there!" Naja cried. The bus had dropped the pair off some distance from the heart of campus, in what Washu could only assume was one of the more prestigious residential zones. Individual homes sprawled elegantly over the sylvan terrain ... long, rolling hills and verdant Jurai tree-forms were beautiful to behold. The walk from the bus-stop seemed to take no time at all. Now they had stopped in front of a particularly enormous house. It was practically a mansion: tall pillars, walls that gleamed ivory-white, with more windows than Washu wanted to count (but she did anyway). Even in this obviously upper-class neighborhood, surrounded by luxury, the house before them was uniquely gorgeous. Large, gilded gates blocked their view of the entryway, but Washu was sure it was no less impressive. "Wow!" Washu said with genuine admiration. "This is great. Is this your house?" Naja looked at her blankly. "Er ... Miss Naja?" Naja looked positively awkward, as if invisible eyes were on them both -- which, Washu reflected, they quite probably were. Naja cleared her throat, smiling oddly. "It would be awfully rude for me to invite myself into someone else's home." She nudged Washu on the shoulder. Washu remained puzzled. "Is this the school then?" Naja laughed. "That comes later!" As if her laughter had been a key, the huge gates began to move. With a sound of whirring electronics and crunching gravel, they swung outwards. Beyond stood an elderly man dressed in finery. On either side, in two columns that lined the lane, stood a chorus of girls dressed in maid outfits. The man bowed politely. "Welcome, Ms. Hakubi Washu," he said in a low, strong voice. On cue, brightly colored lights sprang up all around them, bringing the elaborate garden setting to life. "We've been expecting you." Washu gaped. She looked at Naja, and pointed at the house. "This is ... house ... it's ..." Naja nodded in delight. "It's late," Naja said. "You're probably tired. We can finish the paper- work tomorrow. You are tired, right?" Understatement of the century. "Er ... yes." "Then I'll see you tomorrow, at eight o'clock sharp! Goooooood night!" Bright in the face, Naja waved to Washu and walked away, leaving her alone with the butler and army of maids. Her butler. Her maids. Naja ignored Washu's frantic cries calling her back, and the great gates swung shut. * * * The next morning, Washu was woken by Mikoto, one of the maids. It was Mikoto who had shown Washu around the house the previous evening, and Washu had taken an instant liking to the girl, in spite of her own embarrassment. At the monastery Washu had pulled her own weight ... she wasn't used to being waited on. And so she determined to treat the staff -- yes, "staff" was a good word; it was a big house, it needed a staff -- with kindness and respect. By dinnertime, she had earned the admiration of the entire staff. Mikoto and Washu were friends by the end of the night. They were doubly-surprised when Washu showed up at the servants quarters for breakfast. Confused, they were quick to ask what was wrong. But Washu had calmly gone to the table, sat down and requested a plate. After breakfast, she met a new challenge: her school uniform. "Miss Washu?" Mikoto called from outside the bedroom door. "Don't call me that!" "Are you alright?" "No, I'm not alright!" Mikoto hurried inside. Washu stood, arms spread. "They expect me to go outside in this?" Washu had grown up accustomed to the comfortable, loose-fitting robes of Kanemitsu. This was something else. The restricting tan pants were held by a swath of beige cloth, held at the hip by a red clasp. The gold- buttoned dress-coat, a very dark bluish-green, was a nightmare, pinching her around the waist, with long sleeves, poofy shoulders and a white, high-necked collar. She had selected a bright-green gemstone as a tie, with short red-ribbons. The neat matching cap she held in her white- gloved hands, leaving her volcano of hair looking ridiculous. "I look ridiculous." "You look beautiful," Mikoto protested. Washu brandished the cap at her. "And what am I supposed to do with this?" The maid had no response. Washu sighed and closed her eyes. She raised the cap above her head ... there was a shifting, and suddenly the majority of her mane had disappeared beneath it, leaving the hat framed by the short, graceful arcs of hair that swept out from either side of her head like the legs of a crab. Mikoto gaped. Washu yawned and looked at the clock. "It's after eight o'clock," she said. "Where's Naja?" Mikoto swallowed timidly. "Ms. Naja is infamous for being difficult to catch. She is quite popular, and often delayed. I'm sure ..." "I see," Washu interrupted. "Let's go outside." A few minutes later, they were out on the terrace and Washu was sipping a hot cup of tea. She looked up at the weather-regulated sky, squinting her eyes in the warm sunshine. "I've made up my mind," she said. "To do what?" Mikoto said. "It's only twenty minutes to school, right? I'll just walk. I could use the exercise." "But what about Ms. Naja?" "If she ever shows up, tell her where I went." She set down the teacup, pulled on her shoes and began her morning walk, ignoring Mikoto's pleas of protest. The temperature zone that the Department of Philosophy occupied enjoyed all four seasons, and Washu was secretly pleased that it was currently Spring. It had been autumn on Kanemitsu. She had missed the smell of life in the air. She dawdled as she walked, pausing at small gardens and soaking up the atmosphere. It was a more circuitous route that took her off the main paths. This came as a relief when she arrived, hidden behind a tree, one kilometer from the Philosophy Building. The great structure stood out against the kilometers-long tree-line. Instead of gates, the entrance to the academy grounds was guarded by two huge robots. But they did not carry weapons. They carried, rather, enormous flags in each hand. Flags that read "Welcome! Washu-chan!" she sighed to herself. Several hundred students crowded around the robots' feet, including a horde of elementary-aged children also waving flags. They, in turn, were surrounded by an even larger crowd of spectators and media-persons. It was larger than the last one. Stiffening her resolve, Washu approached the crowd. Approaching from the tree-line, her appearance went unnoticed until she reached the border of the crowd. She kept her head low and her eyes worked frantically, calculating the ebb and flow of the crowd and the trajectories of the people around her. Mere yards from the gate, she felt a tiny hand tugging at her jacket. She looked down into the face of one of the schoolchildren. The little girl gave an excited cry, and abruptly dozens of faces turned towards Washu. Washu smiled weakly. "Please forgive me!" she said. Then she ran as fast as she could behind the nearest building. "Wow!" she breathed. The inner grounds were covered with acre after acre of thousands of regal white flowers that could only have come from planet Jurai. Behind the building, she could see that they coated the long plain in carefully designed patterns surrounding more buildings, stretching all the way to the distant seaside. The roof of each building, by contrast, was decorated with an explosion of brightly-colored foliage. "The Jurai certainly know how to decorate!" "Hey, you!" came a deep voice from behind her. Washu spun around, afraid that the mob had found her. But it was only a lone man, scowling at her with deep-set eyes as if she were some scullery maid caught sitting on the throne. He was short, heavy-set, with a wide- lipped face and a forehead that seemed to slope down in a perpetual scowl. A few wisps of hair curled around the dark skin of his chin. From his fancy robes and the way he swaggered towards her, Washu's first thought was that he was a professor. But then she noticed the badge of a depart- mental student, and gave annoyed cough. She knew this type ... an elitist; the same breed of priggish snob that had tainted her farewell party on Kanemitsu with their overly-familiar superiority. She decided to attempt to be polite. "Excuse me, could you tell me where the main office is?" The man frowned. "The office?" "Do you want me to spell it? I need to register for the Academy and ..." The man cut her off with a mocking laugh. "Do you know where you are, girl? This is a branch of the Royal Jurai Academy! Only the most advanced minds of the galaxy are allowed to enter here. You must have come by the wrong road. Surely you must have meant to find the Department of Ancient Literature, which is down by the city." Washu raised an eyebrow. "Don't you read yesterday's news?" she said wryly. "Ohhhhh!" there was an angry cry from behind and a blur of motion. A foot leapt out and kicked the man hard in the shin. He cried out in pain, leaping backwards into the bushes, cowering like a frightened toad. "Don't you like me, Washu-chan?" It was Naja, staring at Washu with hurt, almost spiteful eyes. She hadn't even looked at the man she had removed, so intently was she focussed on Washu. "What?" "I worked so hard," Naja stammered, and tears began to appear in her eyes. "I planned everything, you know. I worked all night to prepare for Washu- chan's first day at school ..." "All the attention bothers me," Washu cut her off. Naja froze. Washu thought. She stared into Naja's eyes. But Naja just sighed. "You are a catty girl, Washu-chan." There was a noise as the man extracted himself painfully from the bushes. His face was twisted with anger. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded, tenderly picking tiny branches from his scratched, red face. "What do you think you're doing, you ..." his skin paled as he saw his assailant, and his entire demeanor changed to one of reluctance. "... Miss ... Miss Naja!" "Sorry, Clay," Naja said shortly, her sadness at the failed reception transforming into anger. She glanced at Washu, then returned her attention to the huffing man before them. "Here." She lashed out with a clenched fist, but the man called Clay evaded the blow. "Ah ..." he rasped. "This girl is your friend, then? Even so, you should have instructed her better. There are many places where not all are permitted to enter ..." he glared at Washu. "Let's go, Washu-chan," Naja said, trying to move past Clay, who bristled. "Didn't you hear what I just said?" he demanded. Naja stared at him with a mixture of fury and disgust. "What," she hissed. Clay blanched, and his voice became smaller. "Er ... well, you see ... um, you can't take her to the Department of Philosophy and ..." "Speak clearly if you are a man!" Naja yelled. Clay's face twisted in mortification. "Oh, Naja. What's this all about?" The three students turned. Walking towards them was a tall man with a jovial face, graying hair, and a neatly-cut beard. Washu noted his official dress. He examined her curiously. "And you are ...?" "Professor Ikuma," Naja said nervously, and bowed. thought Washu. Clay stepped forward, puffing out his chest self-importantly. "Oh yes, Professor. You see, I was just speaking to Naja about that." His tone was polite and deferential, but his stare for Naja was pure acid. "What could she be thinking bringing a stranger into a reserved area, I wonder." Ikuma ignored Clay. "You are Washu?" he asked. Washu smiled, bowing respectfully. "Nice to meet you, Professor." The old man smiled with what looked like fatherly affection. "I suppose this is our first face-to-face meeting. You are much more beautiful in person." Washu nodded happily. "I want to thank you for preparing such a wonderful house for me." He laughed. "Don't give it a second thought. It's all part of the deal. I look forward to working with you." Clay stared from Washu to Ikuma in bewilderment. "Do you her, Professor?" Washu thought. Ikuma's face registered mild annoyance. "Are you still here, Clay? I suppose I should fill you in, since you don't seem to have been keeping up with the news. This is Hakubi Washu, and she is the newest student in the Department of Philosophy." He turned back to Washu. "Eighteen years old this year. I suppose she's broken your record, eh Naja?" "By more than a little, Professor," Naja said. "She passed the required entrance exams four years ago ... she finished all her basic programs." Clay's face twitched. "Fo-four ... years?" "Oh yes," Naja said. "As you know, you can't enter the Academy until you're eighteen." Clay froze dumbly and Naja looked pleased. Ikuma winked at her. "Good medicine," he whispered. She replied by flashing him a "V"-sign with her right hand. "If you will excuse us, Professor, Ms. Washu has some papers to fill out." Her face became that of an obedient student and she bowed to Ikuma, taking Washu by the hand. "Oh, yes, Washu," Ikuma called after them. "I'm sure they will tell you at the office, but you placed into Class 6, the same as Naja." Then he ambled away. Clay, left alone, sank to the ground. "I'm in Class 9," he muttered. "An eighteen year-old who just entered the Academy, three levels higher than I? Pereposterous! I can't believe it." It took three hours for Clay to fully recover his sense of identity. When he did, he drew himself up, suffused with indignation, and walked stiffly back towards the front of the building. He had no doubt he would be seeing this upstart student again. He would show her how things worked at the Royal Space Academy. * * * It was dark but it was not dark. The light was not light but it blinded her. It screamed at her senses louder and louder until her mind was drowning in a sea of raw sensation. A symphony of silence. A cacophony of chaos. It was not enough to block out the terror. Something formed in the void: triumvirate points of light, glowing hotly red against the backdrop of her consciousness. They spun slowly and a darkness grew between them ... a cold, inky darkness which was absolute in contrast to everything she knew. There was no light there. The horror intensified. Primordial. Cataclysmic. She fled along the edge of theosis. Pandemonium came crashing down around her. She flung herself outwards, her mind stretched so thin she thought it might rupture. She tumbled in an emptiness that could only have been born from entropy. Impossibilities leapt out at her from every angle, filling her soul with pervasive terror. Terror ... The blackness swallowed her. * * * Washu sat up violently in bed, her nightgown drenched in sweat, her skin clammy in the breeze that blew in from the open window. Long drapes shifted in the wind, and in a panic, she whirled towards the source of the motion, her green eyes staring blankly at the gibbous moon for a long moment. Her ears still rang with some evasive sound. Had she screamed? Had she been dreaming? She realized that her heart was pounding intensely. She could feel the blood flushing through her skull. Already the pain in her ears was fading to a mere shade of an echo. There was a sound from the door, and she shifted position on the enormous bed. Mikoto stood there, holding a lit candle to push back the darkness of the hall. Several other servants were visible in the shadows behind her. "Lady Washu," Mikoto whispered. "Are you ... you cried out." "I'm fine," Washu said. She wished she meant it. She was shaken to the marrow of her bones, seemingly without cause. "Bad dreams. Guess I'm just anxious about my first day of classes. Go on back to bed." Mikoto bowed and backed away. The door shut. Washu fell backwards against her spread of pillows and stared at the ceiling. Her breathing was already becoming more even, her heart rate returning to normal. Within moments she was asleep. This time she did not dream. And the ice-blue light of the moon playing across her sleeping face could not obscure the faint traces of red light cast from the top of the dresser, where her three gems glowed hotly in the night ... * * * >From his vantage point high atop the massive, multi-decker podium that dominated the front of the arena, Professor Ikuma surveyed the sea of students. "Who can tell me," he cried, his amplified voice reverberating off the towering stone structures of the open-air amphitheater, "why the Department of Philosophy is considered the highest level of the Science Academy?" The room was filled with silence. Ikuma jabbed a godlike finger down towards a student sitting nine rows back. "Mr. Hisaishi?" The student fidgeted nervously. "Because ... because it's more important?" "No. That is arguable." The finger moved again. "Ms. Ohtani?" "Because thinkers are our most valuable asset." "A very pretty sentiment, Ms. Ohtani. Textbook, in fact. But no. Ms. Washu?" Thirty four rows back, Washu blinked. She considered for a moment, then leaned forward to activate her desk microphone. "Because philosophy is the most advanced science," she said. If she was wrong, she was wrong. "Close, Ms. Hakubi. Very close." He spread his arms wide to encompass the entire room. "What is science?" he demanded. "Science is knowledge," one student volunteered. "Yes. That is the basic principle. But science is more. Anyone else?" Washu activated her pickup. "The pursuit of knowledge." Ikuma drew his hands together. "Now we are getting somewhere. Science is the process by which we acquire knowledge. And where do we find knowledge?" "Everywhere in the physical universe," someone called out. "Yes. But I would expand your definition to include everything in the rational universe. You can study sub-atomics and dimensional shifts until you're blue in the face. Information is not knowledge. I submit that science is more than data. There is a science of ethics. Of aesthetics. Metaphysics and epistemology. These are things that you cannot put under a microscope. These are things you cannot quantify. And yet they inform. They are a source of knowledge. They are much more dangerous than matter, they are the consequence and end of matter. They are ideas. Philosophy, ladies and gentlemen, is the science of ideas." Atop the podium, Ikuma began to pace. "I want to make one thing clear. I do not expect perfection from my students. If that is your goal, you should leave. Your efforts will not be rewarded here." One student in the front row stood up. She was short, of a light-furred and long-eared humanoid species with which Washu was unfamiliar. "Isn't perfection an idea?" Ikuma peered down. "Ms. Yume, is it? Here's a challenge for you. Perfection does not exist." "It does exist, sir." "How?" "Perfection is the sum of all things by virtue of their existence." Ikuma smiled. "Indeed. Then we already exist in a state of perfection. Why should I concern myself with its pursuit. Can I make myself perfect? Should I try?" Yume remained quiet and Ikuma resumed pacing. "It is a paradox to be sure. Ask any two random philosophers and they will give you a different answer. Four more will think that each is right, and eight more will think the same thing for different reasons. Perfection does not concern me. Only knowledge concerns me. Seek knowledge, seek truth, and you will go far here. This is my promise and my challenge." * * * People on campus joked that the Academy was ancient when the universe was new. Looking out over the city from one of its many raised walkways, Washu could almost believe them. The interior of the department grounds was far vaster than she would have expected. The modern buildings she had seen were metal and wood, but the vast majority of the inveterate institution was stone of a composition Washu had never seen. Great rough- hewn pillars stretched leagues into the sky. Massive arches spanned the equivalent of small cities, adorned with massive spheres of polished metal that blazed like miniature stars in the light of the Academy sun. And, of course, you never knew when you were looking at someone's doctoral thesis. Large plateaus hovered kilometers above the ground. It was as much a pan-cultural work of art -- an aesthetic triumph of classical beauty -- as it was a science experiment. Washu's contemplation was interrupted by the sound of familiar footsteps. "Washu-chan!" "Hello, Naja," Washu said, without turning. She knew what she would see: Naja's beaming smile just about splitting her face. Naja vaulted up to sit atop the stone barrier that Washu was leaning against. The scattered students below, tiny from this height, did not appear to intimidate her. "So how was your first day of classes?" Washu shrugged. "A bit fundamental, isn't it?" Naja laughed. "You'll get over it. Here." She flicked her wrist and a dark pocket of subspace opened between them. Naja reached in and retrieved two tall drinks. "Are you underage for this chemical? I forget" Washu closed her eyes for a moment, then smirked. She appeared to flicker briefly. "Not anymore." Naja looked puzzled. Washu changed the subject. "That's a neat dimensional pocket trick. Took me two months to figure it out." Naja frowned. "It took me four years." "Oh. Um ... so how was your first day?" Naja brightened, displaying a relaxed grin. "If you advance as fast as everyone says you will, you'll find out soon enough. What did you think of Ikuma sensei? Did he give his lecture about how it's better to approach God through truth than perfection?" "Something like that. It sounds like something my ... the Reverend Mother would say." Naja finished draining her cup. "Meet any boys yet?" Washu laughed. "I'm not interested in that sort of thing. I didn't have many options growing up on a frontier monastery." "That's what they say," Naja giggled. "You know, I think you're going to like it here, Washu-chan." Washu looked out over the campus. Somewhere, beyond the praxeum grounds, the sun would just be meeting the horizon. "You know?" she said. "You just might be right." ========================================================================= CONTINUED IN: Washu's Lullaby - Part III: The Lover =========================================================================