From: Ed Sharpe <esharpe@hsc.usc.edu>

This is a "what if.." sort of story about Ayeka.

ed



"Wasuremono"

Release 1.0 September 22, 1997

A Tenchi Muyo! Fan-Fiction.
Disclaimer

     A special thanks to David Eddy an excellent editor and
friend, whose suggestions and ideas enabled me to finish this
story.  Doumo arigatou gozaimashita.  I would like to publicly
thank omega@freenet.toronto.on.ca for thy work. First as a
proofreader, then a full-fledged editor, and finally as a
net-friend. Without thy help none of my stories would have ever
seen the light of the net.

     Tenchi Muyo! Copyrighted 1992, 1997 by AIC, Pioneer LDC,
Inc. , and used without permission. 

WARNING:  This story contains mature themes and language.  If you
are too young to handle such things, please stop reading.  Thank
you.

Exodus 34:7b
     Yet he does not leave the guilty unpunished;  he punishes
the children and their children for the sin of the fathers to the
third and fourth generation.


     *    *
     Kiyone was not sure how long she had been walking when she
found the bar.  It must have been several hours, she calculated,
the street lights having come on without her noticing.  It was a
dark night, a cloudless and moonless night, only the brightest of
stars were visible through the city lights. Like a cheap
detective novel, the night mirrored her mood.   Only three of the
tables in the place were colonized as Kiyone made her way to the
end of the empty bar.  Just the type of place she needed to drink
the night away.  Sitting down she gave the bartender a single
command, "Scotch!"

*    *    *
     Ayeka wiped her hands on her apron, satisfied at her work. 
Her room was spotless, almost sterile, everything in its place in
a frighteningly manic compulsive way.  The clock began to chime
the hour, echoing through the empty house.  Unbidden the thought
came to her, 'Tenchi should just be leaving on his . . . ' 
Shaking her head, she  pushed the thought out of her mind,
filling it with another.

*    *    *
     'Surely the gods must love me,'  thought Ayeka in an
euphoric haze.  Serendipitously she and Tenchi had been left
alone together on a beautiful spring day.  Tenchi had been
pleasantly surprised and delighted at her bringing a picnic lunch
out to the carrot field where he had spent the morning working.
Even now they lay side-by-side on their picnic blanket watching
the sun shine on the lake below.  The remains of their picnic
lunch were spread out on the grass of the hill side along with
their clothes.  The breeze felt good, cooling the sweat that
clung to her body after their recent exertion.  This time it was
so much sweeter and intense than the first time they had done it. 
Ayeka smiled.  They were getting quite good at it.  She never
dreamed she would enjoy sex so much.

*    *    *
     The bar-hostess set a small bucket of ice and a glass in
front of Kiyone, before opening the bottle of Scotch.  Filling
Kiyone's glass the hostess asked, "Man trouble?"

     "No," Kiyone answered in a flat tone that told the hostess
that she preferred to drink in silence.

*    *    *
     Patiently and precisely Ayeka undressed in the changing
room, neatly folding her work clothes before placing them in the
hamper.  Picking up the bath towel she had laid out earlier, 
Ayeka covered herself even though no one else was home and,
sliding back the door, entered the bathroom.

*    *    *
     The Masaki shrine had pulled out all of the stops for
Sasami's eighteenth birthday. Ayeka had found it a bit difficult
to believe that six years had already passed since they had
arrived on Earth.  Sasami had grown from a little girl into a 
beautiful young lady. Every year she slowly looked ever more like 
Tsunami. Now Sasami looked nothing like the little girl who had 
first set foot on Earth those years ago . . .  a disturbing fact 
that Ayeka would have to live with.  But more disturbing was 
Sasami's declaration that she was to be called Tsunami from this 
day forward.  That Ayeka might not be able to live with.

     'Father looks awfully pleased with himself,' Ayeka thought. 
'Now the pompous ass has two daughters to marry off in his
political games.'  Ayeka could not wait for the fight she was
sure she was going to have with him over marring some foppish
prince.  But this time she held the trump card.  'Father will
have a heart attack when I tell him about sleeping with Tenchi. 
Now he will have to let us marry!'

*    *    *
     Not bothering to add ice, Kiyone picked up her Scotch and
began to sip it as a Miles Davis' blues tune began to play on the
juke box.  A slow and haunting tune, the muted trumpet cried.

*    *    *
     Removing her towel, Ayeka sat on the low stool and began to
wash herself.  Tonight she must be perfectly clean.  

     She slipped into the tub, the water almost scalding, letting
herself enjoy the one last pleasure left to her.  And as the
water began to work its miracle and her muscles began to relax,
Ayeka let her mind wander to the pleasant memory of another time
she soaked in this tub.

     'So that is what it is like to make love,' thought Ayeka as
she soaked in the bathtub, 'it was almost anti-climatic'.  Ayeka
giggled at her little joke. She was still sore; she had no idea
that the first time would be so painful. Yet despite the pain and
Tenchi's fumbling, he had been able to take her the edge and then
over it . . .  twice.  They must have been mad to do it there in
his room with the rest of the extended family sleeping in the
house. Ayeka did not know how she had stifled the screams of pain
and pleasure that would have given them away.  She relaxed and
let her mind go blank as she let the warm waters of the bath wash
away the pain.  She smiled, for Tenchi was now hers and she was
his  . . .  forever.

*    *    *
     Done sipping her first glass of Scotch, Kiyone slammed the
contents of her second glass down her throat, before pouring
herself a third.  Kiyone needed to get drunk tonight, and sipping
was too fucking slow.

*    *    *
     Done with her bath and back in her room, a room she no
longer shared with Tsunami, Ayeka sat looking at herself in the
mirror on the dressing table, letting her mind go blank, not
wanting to think.

     The echoing of the clock chiming the hour through the empty
house brought her out of her trance. Her eyes caught on the white
silk cloth of the panties stretched tight across her hips,
awakening the memory of another spring night.  Picking up her
hair brush, she began to brush her hair as she let the sadness of
that night embrace her.

*    *    *
     Ayeka paid no attention to the beautiful spring night that
surrounded her. She sat next to the lake in front of the house,
unwilling to stay under the same roof as that Monster.  She did
not know what to feel: anger, pain, hatred, betrayal, despair,
sorrow, jealousy; they all raged inside her.  She took another
slug from the sake bottle, intent on feeling nothing.

     Ayeka smiled at the one thought that gave her any pleasure
tonight: that Tenchi had given her that which he could only give
once, that which she had given him, what she doubted Ryoko could
give.  But that fact did nothing to erase the image of Ryoko
straddling Tenchi's hips, the sweat glistening on their bodies,
the soft grunts.

     "How could he," Ayeka cried bitterly, the tears freely
flowing.  "How could he betray me with that whore!  After all
that I've given him, doesn't he love me?"  The sake now
forgotten, she embraced the pain that gripped her heart, the only
thing solid in the raging maelstrom that was her soul.

*    *    *
     Picking up her glass, Kiyone made her way to the juke box at
the back of the bar.  Dropping the proper coins into the machine,
she scanned the play list looking for something to match her
mood, settling on another Miles tune.

*    *    *
     Finished brushing her hair, Ayeka began to dress, putting on
her formal Jurai kimono.  Pure white, it had been Ayeka's dream
that she would wear it on the day that she wedded Tenchi, but
that dream was not to be.  Tonight it would be worn for a
different ceremony.  As she dressed the memory of another night
replayed itself in her head.

*    *    *
     Seeing the young lady at the bar suck down yet another
Scotch, the young man got up from his table, encouraged by the
ribald comments of his companions.  He has not a bad looking man,
he was not what one would call handsome, either.  About 30 years
old, his face was hard like a piece of rough hewed granite.  A
tattoo peeked out from under the right cuff of his white dress
shirt.  His hands were rough and scarred; the tip of his left
pinky finger was long gone.

     Stepping up hard against Kiyone, the yakuza stood
confidently, sure of himself.  "Yo, babe, you look lonely, and
the night is long."  He smirked.  "I can fix that."

     Kiyone pulled her Galactic Police issued blaster out of her
purse in her lap and jammed it into the man's groin.  "Leave
before I blast your testicles into the next time zone," Kiyone
threatened in a slow cold voice that promised a quick clean
death.

     "My mistake," the gangster apologized, as he backed away. 
"I thought you where someone else."

*    *    *
     Done dressing in her precise, prissy way, Ayeka began laying
out the items she would need tonight: a small portable heating
unit and tea kettle, tea pot, ladle, cup and saucer.  Loose tea
and some biscuits.  Also a sheet of writing paper, her tanto, her
best writing brush and the block of ink she reserved for letters
to her parents.  The act of laying out each item precisely in its
prescribed place brought to mind another occasion on which she
had made tea.

*    *    *
     The remains of the afternoon tea laid scattered between
Tenchi and Ayeka.  Ayeka sat on her haunches, hands on her knees,
head down, her tears flowing freely, running down her face,
falling on her hands and the tatami mat.

     Tenchi was standing, talking in a slow halting way, as
though each word caused physical pain.  "I'm sorry Ayeka," he
finished.

     Tenchi turned and left.  'I cannot lose him, not now, he is
mine!' was all Ayeka could think. 'Maybe after Sasami's birthday.
I'll get to the bottom of this.  Tenchi must be worried about
father's visit. Yes, that must be it.'  Ayeka rationalized,
unwilling to believe his words.

*    *    *
     A tall well built man dressed in a nondescript black suit
sat down next to Kiyone.  'Not bad,' thought Kiyone as she poured
herself another shot.  

     "Tonic water with a lime," the man ordered.  Turning toward
Kiyone, "Do you mind if I sit here?"

     "There are plenty of empty stools over there," Kiyone
replied waving with her glass at the other end of the bar, "leave
me alone."  She finished half seriously, her metal defense
mellowed by the Scotch.

     "No need to talk, I'll just sit here, no harm it that."

     "None."

*    *    *
     As the water for the tea began to heat, Ayeka arranged the
writing paper in front of her, and taking the brush, began to
write as the memory of That day replayed in her mind.

*    *    *
     They were all there: Father looking regal, and full of
himself, standing next to mother whose eyes were already tearing
up.  Yosho stood next to father looking pleased.  Funaho scanned
the crowed in her calculating manner.  Nobuyuki was there
grinning like an idiot, a part he was born to.  Washu had a 
knowing glint in her eyes, while Ryoko, clueless as to what was
about to transpire, was bored.  And Tenchi was there looking as
if he wanted to melt away in embarrassment.  Close by his side
stood Tsunami, not quite touching.

     Ayeka knew what father was going to say, and she prayed that
the pompous ass would choke on his own words.

     Clearing his throat her father began, "Some of you are
wondering why I called you here; others I'm sure already know. 
Let me end all speculation."  He paused, drawing himself up.  "It
is with great pleasure that I announce the betrothal of Masaki
Tenchi to my youngest daughter, Tsunami."

     Ryoko went white.  "Nooooooooo!!!" she screamed.  Washu felt
the glance of the Emperor of Jurai, and quickly subdued her
daughter.

     Ayeka bit her lip as her father continued, "Yosho and I have
discussed this matter at length and we have agreed that Sasami, I
mean Tsunami, is the best match for young Tenchi." Looking
directly at Ayeka he finished, "And I expect all of you to abide
by our wishes."

     "Tenchi! Now!"  Yosho's stage whisper drew Ayeka's eyes back
to Tenchi and her sister.

     Standing at attention, and even more embarrassed than
before, yet happy, Tenchi pulled a small box out of his pocket
and removed a small ring from the box.  "Will you . . .  Will you
consent to be my wife?"

     Tsunami blushed and nodded, and Tenchi took her hand in his
and placed the ring on her finger.  

     Ayeka's heart died at the sight of the ring.  It was the
final blow.  It was the same ring that she had pointed out to
Tenchi during a recent shopping trip to town.  The one she wished
that he would have given her.  Fighting back the tears, Ayeka
approached the couple, now arm in arm, and gave her sister a hug
and whispered a request in her ear.  "Make him happy, little
sister."  Unable to look at Tenchi, let alone speak to him, Ayeka
moved away as the others came forward to offer their
congratulations.

     Already the beginnings of The Plan had formed in Ayeka's
mind.

*    *    *
     Kiyone and the stranger sat in silence sipping their drinks,
until the man broke the silence ordering a second tonic water.  

     Looking down at his waist, the gentleman pulled a pager off
his belt.  "Excuse me my silent love, I need to make a phone
call."

     Kiyone continued to sip her Scotch impassively.

     Returning, the man picked up his drink and downed the
contents of his glass.  "I am sorry, but I must leave you, work
calls."  Fishing in his pockets he removed a small white card
which he placed on the bar.  "Once more unto the breach," he said
with false gaiety. As he turned to go, Kiyone barely heard him
mutter,  "fucking NT."

*    *    *
     Picking up the writing paper, Ayeka blew on it to dry the
ink.  Setting it in front of her, Ayeka read aloud the words that
she had so recently set to the paper.

          cherry blossoms fall
          the silent, silent sunset
          are they not my tears?
     
     Contemplating the words she had written, another memory rose
unbidden for Ayeka.

*    *    *
     "Why must father be so stupid!"  Ayeka screamed at the gods. 
Why wouldn't he accepted the fact that she would rather die than
marry some foppish prince of his choosing, even if he would
accept her in her soiled condition.  She had been sure father was
going to hit her when she told him that she had slept with
Tenchi, but once he started breathing again, he had started
making plans on how to conceal this fact from her intended.  "The
political bastard!"  She swore, "Caring more about politics and
power than the feelings of a young girl, his own daughter!"

     Ayeka lay on her futon, her face streaked with tears and the
covers pulled over her head.  Her father's words still rang in
her ears: "I have come to a decision, and Yosho agrees with me,
Tenchi will marry Sasa . . .  I mean Tsunami.  The engagement
will be announced tomorrow.  I expect you to be there and lend
your sister your support."

*    *    *
     Kiyone sighed and thoughtfully fingered the small white card
as she watched the man in the black suit walk out of the bar. 
The tail of his jacket covered his butt, but she knew it must be
very cute.  But before she could start fantasizing what it would
be like to have that cute behind between her . . .  this
morning's images came flooding back.  Picking up her glass Kiyone
continued her intended trip to alcohol oblivion.

*    *    *
     Her preparations complete, Ayeka sat quietly sipping her
tea.  'Soon.  Soon this pain too will pass,' Ayeka reflected in
her mind.  She tried to cry, but the tears held in since the
engagement still would not come. 

*    *    *
     Kiyone awoke early, the first rays of sun light coming
through the window.  In a strange room, it took Kiyone a second
to orient herself.  She was in the hotel where Sasa . . . 
Tsunami and Tenchi were married yesterday.  Tsunami had looked
absolutely gorgeous in her white Jurai wedding gown.  And Tenchi,
well Tenchi was still himself, looking very handsome, yet
embarrassed at all of the attention.  Ryoko had gotten very drunk
and very weepy, crying uncontrollably throughout the ceremony and
the reception.  Washu had had to intervene when she latched
herself onto Tenchi's leg like a ball and chain.  Ayeka was the
very model of a modern major Jurai princess.  Quietly and with
dignity she sat through the ceremony, allowing her younger sister
to have the spotlight.  She had excused herself at the beginning
of the reception, complaining of a headache.  Kiyone did not
blame her, the entire time Ayeka had been surrounded by the
gaggle of foppish Jurai princes, wannabes, and hangers-on her
father had brought along.

     As she dressed, some sixth sense told Kiyone that she needed
to find Ayeka.  A sense of dread filled her when she found that
Ayeka had not stayed at the hotel, but had left after excusing
herself from the reception.  Not waking the rest of the wedding
party, Kiyone left in search of the missing princess.

*    *    *
     The bar-hostess set some bar snacks in front of Kiyone,
"What a waste."

     "What do you mean?" asked Kiyone.

     "Letting such a cute one get away," the bar-hostess answered
like it was obvious what she had meant in the first place.  "I
don't understand why you would prefer to fill your gut with booze
when you could have him filling you"

     "Don't be vulgar!"

     "It's not good to drink so much on an empty stomach, you
will give yourself an ulcer."

     "What do you care?"

     "I'm just trying to understand why you let such a cute one
get away.  Don't you like men?"

     "Give me a pack of cigarettes," Kiyone commanded, ending the
questioning.  'Why did I?' she asked herself a moment later.

*    *    *
     Ayeka set down her tea cup and got up and turned off the
lights in the room.  Sitting back down on her knees she
straightened her kimono.  Picking up the tanto, Ayeka  removed it
from its sheath.  The faint starlight of the moonless night shone
off of it.  As she raised it to her throat, the tears she had
held back these last few months since That day began to flow. 
"Please forgive me."

*    *    *
     Kiyone slammed down her empty glass and examined the Scotch
bottle.  It was half empty, yet the golden liquor had done
nothing to burn the images from her mind.  Picking at the salty
snacks the hostess had left, Kiyone could not prevent her mind
again replaying the morning's events like some sick horror movie.

*    *    *
     The Masaki house was silent as Kiyone entered it. No one
responded when she called out.  Taking a quick look around the
first floor she found nothing unusual or out of place.  But
Kiyone did not expect to find anything there;  somehow she knew
what she was looking for would be upstairs. 

     Kiyone slid back the door to Ayeka's room not wanting to see
what she feared was there.  It took a few seconds for her mind to
record the scene that greeted her and that the brown paint that
seem to be everywhere was actually dried blood.  Did the human
body actually contain so much?  Turning over the body, Ayeka's
lifeless eyes stared at Kiyone.  Placing her hand on Ayeka's face
she closed the eyes.

*    *    *
     Kiyone was not sure how long she had been walking when she
found the bar.  It must have been several hours, she calculated,
the street lights having come on without her noticing.  It was a
dark night, a cloudless and moonless night, only the brightest of
stars were visible through the city lights. Like a cheap
detective novel, the night mirrored her mood.   Only three of the
tables in the place were colonized as Kiyone made her way to the
end of the empty bar.  Just the type of place she needed to drink
the night away.  Sitting down she gave the bartender a single
command, "Scotch!"

*    *    *

Glossary:

Wasuremono: A lost article, something forgotten and left behind.

Yakuza: Japanese mafia.

Tanto(u): Short sword, dagger, dirk.

Tatami: Tatami mat: Japanese straw floor coverings.

"Once more unto the breach," William Shakespeare, Henry V, III,
I, 37.

*    *    *
esharpe@hsc.usc.edu
*    *    *

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