Disclaimer: See Chapter One

Empire of the Sun
By Sophia Prester


Chapter Four: Intersections


Monday, July 2
6:30 a.m.


	The hotel alarm clock went off with an apologetic beep. Jason 
Wright opened his eyes to the sight of a hotel room so bland and 
inoffensive that it was easier to believe he was in Toledo than in 
Tokyo. He had been awake for the past few minutes, aware of being 
uncomfortably cold, but not quite awake enough to get up to do 
anything about it.

	Whoever installed the air conditioning evidently believed that 
most hotel guests enjoyed having to play Find the Thermostat. After 
the first night of refrigeration, he'd searched everywhere for the 
control, including the closet, but with no success. The front desk 
told him where to look, but the knob he'd twiddled only adjusted the 
flow of air from brisk to hurricane-force and back again.

	The bedspread, which might have provided some warmth, was way 
over in the far corner of the room. From the look of things, it had 
been tied into a big knot.

	"Not again," he groaned. He dragged the bedspread back to the 
bed while taking a quick survey of the room. At least there wasn't 
any real damage this time. His reading glasses were under the 
register, but did not appear to be broken. The hotel binder with its 
unhelpful information about Tokyo was behind the desk, with half of 
its pages ripped to shreds. The desk, nightstand, and dresser 
drawers were all pulled out. Fortunately, the bedside lamp had 
suffered no harm from being knocked to the floor.

	It took only a token effort to put everything back and dump 
the shredded pages in the wastebasket. What a time to have a 
nightmare, he thought. When he moved in with his host family that 
night, he would have to check the bedroom for any breakables or 
movables and put them somewhere safe. If things got really bad, he'd 
just break out the sleeping pills.

	Last night's dream had been a replay of the old standby, with 
him being crushed, trapped, frozen, and/or drowned in an endless 
cycle, so it wasn't that much of a surprise to find the room 
trashed. He checked his reading glasses for scratches, and put them 
back in their case.

	As Jason got dressed, he couldn't help but study the dimpled 
scar on the right side of his chest. Over the past three years, it 
had become part of the normal topography of his body, but now that 
he was here, now that he was finally doing what had to be done, its 
presence triggered a familiar resentment.

	The scar was his own personal mark of Cain. Thanks to the 
wound that had left it, he now had a head crammed full with more 
memories and worse memories than any one person should have. If it 
hadn't been for Luther Mahoney and family, he would still be living 
in blissful ignorance of who he was and what he had done.

	He clenched his teeth as he tied his necktie, jamming the knot 
up noose-tight. Just remember, he thought, Luther is deservedly 
rotting in hell, along with his harpy sister and her miserable 
little demon-spawn. Anger began to tingle through him like 
electricity.

	Why did he have to *remember*? Instead of being on some wild 
goose chase on the other side of the world, he should be back in 
Maryland, worrying about his clearance record, paying his mortgage, 
helping Josh restore the old GTO, playing basketball, nagging his 
mother to see the doctor about her stomach pain, playing with the 
dog, rooting against the Yankees, trying to meet a nice girl, going 
fishing with Josh and Jeremy, saving for retirement, running up his 
tab at the Waterfront...

	Why couldn't he just forget everything again and go back to 
his life as an average cop?

	The reading lamp clattered to the floor, startling him out of 
his reverie. 

	Well, maybe not exactly an *average* cop, he thought with a 
crooked smile. He set the reading lamp back on the nightstand. 
Enough of his natural humor had returned for him to remember the way 
his mother would always ask her complaining children if they would 
care for some cheese with that whine. 

	Even that small memory was a great comfort. For a while, he 
could barely remember his own family. He might be able to recall the 
names and birthdays of his brothers, sisters, and mother, but for a 
frightening six months after he woke up in that hospital in Norfolk, 
those people felt like strangers. As far as he knew, he would spend 
the rest of forever as in some sort of twisted play, in the role of 
Jason Wright, talented detective dancing on the edge of terminal 
burnout. During the months following his brother Jacob's death and 
his own... little adventure, he could only go through all the 
motions of grieving, loving, fighting, reconciling, and so on. 

	When he finally confessed to a therapist a fraction of what he 
was going through, she told him that he shouldn't worry. He'd been 
through a lot, she said. Some degree of emotional distancing was 
perfectly natural in his circumstances. She wasn't even surprised 
that Jason said he felt guilty for his brother's death, and she 
tried to get him to visualize Jacob telling him that everything was 
all right and that he was forgiven. He pretended to go along with 
it, mostly so she would quit mucking around in his id and certify 
him as fit for duty again. He had to admit, it did make him feel 
better. Sort of.

	There was another reason he'd bluffed his way through therapy. 
If he were to go through with her silly little touchy-feely 
exercises, it could mean owning up to the hidden life and the other 
identity that had threatened to erase Jason Wright for all time.

	Eventually, things returned to something resembling normal. As 
far as he could tell, no one had noticed anything odd about his 
behavior. But then, he had always been a very good actor. 

	For nearly two years after things settled down he could almost 
convince himself that all of these memories were just a dream. But 
there were so many little details. All those weeks that he could not 
account for. The gap in his passport. The odd particulars from 
another life that were so consistent and so strange that he knew he 
never could have invented them. The records from the hospital in 
Norfolk. The names. The searing image of a burning angel...

	No. He was not going to think about that.

	Three names. The closest thing he had to solid evidence. Over 
the past nine months, he had used his police connections to do a 
little digging. None of the names turned up in any U.S. law 
enforcement databases, but that was no surprise. An old friend of 
his with the RCMP was able to connect one of the names to a missing 
persons case, but the case file told him nothing he didn't already 
know. 

	Of the two names that were left, one could probably lead him 
to some telling records, but only if he were some sort of genius 
hacker. The third name held some promise, but he didn't have the 
kind of contacts in England that he'd had in Canada.

	Of course, there was always the possibility that they had all 
fled Tokyo. But he could look.

	And if that failed, and he could not find his old friends, 
well...

	He knew exactly how and where to find his old enemies.



7:55 a.m.


	Monday mornings were hectic for the Senshi, even when they 
weren't being attacked by youma, daimons, renegade senshi, or time-
traveling outlaws. After two days of sleeping in, it was a pain to 
get ready for school, or college classes, clinical rounds, or 
graduate-school seminars. Uniforms had to be found, an outfit chosen 
and coordinated, or clean-enough clothes rescued from the hamper. 
Papers and books and notes had to be gathered from kitchen tables, 
ironing boards, desks, studies, floors, nightstands, or from beside 
the tub. Those with parents were forced to sit still long enough to 
eat a decent breakfast. Those without were able to have leftover 
spaghetti, fruit salad eaten straight out of the container, a 
protein bar, nothing at all, or home-made cinnamon rolls.

	This morning, however, the usual routine was broken into by a 
flurry of phone calls.

	It all started when Ami, who had another strange dream on 
Sunday night, called Rei and asked if she'd had any odd dreams that 
weekend. Rei said that yes, she'd had some unusual visions. She'd 
tried to reach Michiru over the weekend, but Michiru had never 
called her back. She agreed that they should all meet at the shrine 
that afternoon after school.

	Rei called Usagi's cell phone. Usagi said that she would talk 
to the others at school that day and that yes, they should 
definitely meet at the shrine after school, and that she and Minako 
had the weirdest experience at the manga-drawing seminar, and...

	Mamoru called Usagi's cell phone and got a busy signal.

	Once she got Usagi to shut up, Rei called Makoto. Makoto 
sounded sleepy and confused, but agreed to show up at the shrine, 
and what time were they meeting, again?

	ChibiUsa called Hotaru and talked about getting together after 
school for ice cream.

	Mamoru called the Tsukino household and got a busy signal.

	Rei called the Outer Senshi's house and clicked in on call-
waiting. Once she got ChibiUsa off the line, Hotaru dutifully handed 
the phone over to Michiru. Michiru said she hadn't had any strange 
dreams or visions, and handed the phone to Haruka. After saying that 
she hadn't had any weird dreams either, Haruka yelled something to 
Hotaru, then told Rei that Hotaru hadn't had any dreams either.

	Haruka left a message at Setsuna's lab to tell her about the 
meeting.

	Minako's mother yelled upstairs to her daughter to pick up the 
phone. It was Usagi. Usagi told Minako about the meeting after 
school, and asked Minako if she was ready for that morning's math 
quiz. Minako looked at the clock, jumped out of bed, and started 
getting dressed.

	On her way out the door, Usagi told ChibiUsa about the 
meeting, and not to whine about it because Hotaru would be there 
too. She then tried calling Mamo-chan on her cell phone, but got a 
busy signal.

	The phone rang several times at the Tsukino household before 
Ikuko-mama answered. "I'm sorry Mamoru-kun, but you just missed her. 
Have you tried her cell-phone?" 

	He was just about to pick up the phone to try again when Ami 
called to tell him about the meeting.

	"I may be late," he said before she could tell him what the 
meeting was about. "Go ahead and start without me."

	Mamoru tried Usagi's cell-phone again and got another busy 
signal. He muttered something nasty under his breath and looked up a 
different number.

	Haruka bit back an impatient snarl as she told Usagi that yes, 
they did know about the meeting, and no, she didn't have any weird 
dreams, and was Usagi doing all right? Was she sure? Good. Then 
they'd see each other at the shrine that afternoon.

	Usagi tried Mamo-chan one more time. Another busy signal. Who 
could he be calling at this time of the morning, she thought with 
the tiniest twinge of jealousy.

	Minako rolled her eyes as her mother yelled upstairs again 
about the phone. They'd see each other at school, so why did her 
friends insist on calling her and getting her in trouble with her 
mother? She picked up the phone. "Hello?"

	She paused, blinked, and held out the phone to an equally 
puzzled white cat.

	"Artemis? It's for you..."



8:12 a.m.


	Hotaru was putting on her shoes just as Haruka was telling Rei 
that she hadn't had any strange dreams either.

	"Oi! Hotaru-chan!" Haruka called. "You haven't had any kind of 
strange visions or dreams recently, have you?"

	Hotaru was tempted to pretend that she hadn't heard Haruka 
call after her, but it wasn't worth the trouble. Besides, if this 
was Senshi business, it would be stupid to ignore it.

	"No, I haven't had any kind of strange visions or dreams 
recently, okay? Is there anything else, Haruka-papa? I'm going to be 
late if I don't leave right now."

	Haruka grimaced at her and waved her on as if Hotaru wasn't 
perfectly aware that she was running late. "Go straight to the 
shrine after school. We've got a meeting," she said, not even 
telling her what it was about or checking to see if Hotaru had any 
plans or anything.

	I'm fourteen, thought Hotaru as she ran down the driveway. Why 
does Haruka-papa insist on treating me like I'm a two-year old?

	Because you are, replied the more rational part of herself. 
Just a little over two years ago you were an infant, remember?

	How could she forget? Everywhere in the house she shared with 
Haruka, Michiru, and Setsuna, there were pictures of baby Hotaru, of 
toddler Hotaru, of a child-Hotaru wearing a checkered sundress, or 
splashing in a wading pool, or holding a violin that was half as 
tall as she was.

	After Sailor Saturn rained destruction down on Pharaoh 90, 
Pluto sealed the monster off in space and time. Saturn should have 
died then, but through Sailor Moon's power, Hotaru had been brought 
back to life as an infant. The Outer Senshi had been father and 
mothers to her, caring for her as she grew from infant to toddler to 
a five-year-old in less than a year.

	Then, one night, as a secret cancer drained the life and 
spirit out of the Earth, an already rapidly aging Hotaru grew seven 
years in as many seconds.

	There were very few pictures of teenaged Hotaru in the house.

	As Hotaru walked along the empty street, she called forth an 
image of a spinning solar system, planets congealing out of whirling 
dust. It wasn't fair. If she wanted to, she could blast the entire 
solar system back to primordial dust, but she still couldn't stay 
out past ten, even on weekends!

	The mock solar system flung itself outwards into nothingness. 
Hotaru sighed. Lately, it felt like she was angry all of the time. 
Sometimes, just hearing Haruka's voice was like listening to a cat 
sharpening its claws on a blackboard. Even when Haruka was just 
calling her down to dinner, it was all Hotaru could do not to roll 
her eyes and sass her 'father' back.

	I've got it good, she reminded herself. They love you. They're 
not using you as the host for some alien organism or turning you 
into some freakazoidal cyborg. Not like your 'real' father. You have 
friends. ChibiUsa-chan is back. Your new classmates don't look at 
you like you're some kind of mutant.

	After staring living nightmares in the face, the Darwinian 
social order of junior high just didn't seem all that frightening. 
Hotaru entered eighth grade that spring with an air of confidence 
that warded off those looking for others to knock down in the 
pecking order. She had money, lived in a nice house with a famous 
race-car driver and an even more famous violinist, but never bragged 
about it or acted like it made her better than anyone else. Plus, as 
she grew, everyone could see that she was a beautiful girl, with her 
alabaster skin, deep violet eyes, thick black hair, and a figure 
like a 1920's fashion plate. The very things that had made her 
former classmates brand her as 'creepy' or 'gloomy' now cemented her 
status as one of the 'cool' kids.

	The change in her status was still new enough to make her 
light-headed. Hotaru-the-freak was finally on the top of the heap, 
not the bottom. The fact that she was genuinely friendly to 
everyone, even the social rejects, only made her that much more 
popular. It was a rare day that did not see at least one love-letter 
tucked into her shoe locker. She had almost filled one whole album 
with them.

	So why wasn't she happy? Hotaru kicked a rock along the 
sidewalk as she walked, wishing that it wasn't so sunny out. When 
she felt like this, she wanted the sky to match her mood. She wanted 
dark and clouds and rain.

	Then it happened. A feeling like a cold wind passing over the 
earth.

	Hotaru stood silent, looking up at the sky. A single leaf 
tumbled through the air. In contrast to the growing heat and 
humidity, the sudden breeze smelled of autumn.

	Something very old within Hotaru awoke, something that made 
her fourteen years seem like one beat of a mayfly's heart. Her eyes 
became dark and cold. Sailor Saturn was on the alert.

	Destruction, she thought. No, not destruction. Something far, 
far more dangerous. Something much, much, older.

	As she looked around, the sun disappeared behind a cloud. 
Despite her earlier musings, she wished it would come back.

	A scuffle from a nearby lot caught her attention. No one was 
there that she could see. In fact, she was the only person on the 
street. She looked again at the lot. From what Michiru-mama told 
her, a new house was being built here. The foundation had been 
poured, and part of the framing was up. Piles of dirt and gravel 
from the excavation covered what would one day be the front yard. 
There were plenty of places for someone to hide. She set her 
briefcase on the ground and walked up the dirt path towards the 
half-built frame.

	Whatever she'd felt was definitely coming from over here. She 
could sense it clearly. It wasn't sentient, or even alive, but 
Hotaru could recognize a boiling malevolence, and something 
resembling will.

	She walked slowly between the mounds of earth, passing a 
wheelbarrow and shovel, seemingly abandoned mid-job. The wind batted 
a paper cup past her feet, its rattle punctuating the strange quiet.

	Then, from behind her, came the skitter of falling gravel and 
a footstep heavy enough to shake the earth.

	As she turned, she instinctively raised her hand in the air 
and cried out: "Saturn Crystal Power, Make Up!"

	Rings of dark fire flashed around her as she changed, and an 
iron staff with two wicked-looking blades at one end materialized in 
her hand.

	It was the first time in nearly a year that she had 
transformed. The visceral thrill of the ancient energy coursing 
through her body nearly overwhelmed her.

	It almost killed her. She came to her senses just in time to 
duck the boulder aimed at her head. It missed her by millimeters, 
hitting the mound of debris behind her. She rolled to avoid the 
worst of the shrapnel and got back to her feet in one smooth 
movement that would have been impossible in her other form. Panting 
in surprise and fear, she looked to where the rock had come from.

	Her attacker stepped out from behind one of the mounds. Saturn 
tilted her Glaive forwards, readying herself for another attack.

	Despite all the horrors she had seen, Saturn's stomach turned 
when she saw what she was facing. It was roughly the same size and 
shape as a man. It was made of dirt and rock, and whoever had shaped 
it had been careless, even contemptuous, of the human form. Nothing 
was symmetrical. Strange, crumbling lumps protruded like malignant 
tumors. One of the creature's legs was shorter than the other, and 
its rolling gait was deceptively fast, she discovered as the 
creature nearly mowed her down. The arms hung down past the knees, 
and its neck was set so low that the misshapen head stuck straight 
out of its chest. 

	Deep dents--one near the center of the face, one halfway down 
the right cheek--served as eyes. A jagged and twisting crack 
suggested a mouth. It looked like something suffering from some 
horrible birth-defect, or a warning of what humanity might one day 
become. What sort of hatred must have gone into this thing's 
creation?

	It lunged for her. A sweep of the Glaive took out a chunk of 
the thing's shoulder and neck, but that only slowed it for a second. 
It tromped right over the wheelbarrow, crushing it like a soda can.

	She got another look at its face before she had to somersault 
back out of its reach. Only one thing about the creature spoke of 
any care in its shaping. Right in the middle of its forehead was an 
elegantly and clearly incised mark, like something from some alien 
alphabet.

	One fist came swinging down, and shattered the rock where she 
was standing just a microsecond before. She almost wished it would 
speak, or insult her, or something, not just keep coming at her 
silently like this. She ducked a lethal back-hand and used the 
Glaive to parry the arm as it swung back in a haymaker. The end of 
the creature's arm sheared off, but the force of the blow ripped the 
Glaive from her hands. It clattered to the ground. Every bone in her 
arms sang with pain.

	Hand to hand or hand to Glaive wasn't going to cut it with 
this thing. Her hands and arms burned, both with pain and with 
healing, and she feared that the creature's blow had broken 
something in her left arm. Her hand wouldn't even move. She was 
barely able to pick up and hold on to the Glaive with her right 
hand. She had to retreat, had to win the few crucial seconds she 
needed to summon one of her attacks, had to run, now, while terror 
held the worst of the pain at bay.

	Sailor Saturn could ward off attacks with a Silence Wall, or 
to shatter an enemy with a Silence Glaive Surprise. She would try 
the Wall first. She had just enough presence of mind to know that if 
she could get a closer look at this thing, she might get some idea 
of what it was, or who might have sent it. Then she would blast it 
to bits.

	"si--silence wall..." she whispered, and the energy sphere 
sprang into place around her.

	The mud-man walked through the Wall as if it wasn't even 
there.

	That was not good.
	
	A two-fingered hand reached for Saturn's throat.

	Instinct took over. She took one last, desperate swing at the 
mud-creature.

	Her weakened right arm could only manage a feeble blow, but by 
sheer luck, she struck the monster square on the head, embedding the 
Silence Glaive's shorter blade right in the middle of its brow.

	The thing simply and silently collapsed into a heap of gravel 
and dirt.

	Saturn collapsed too, right down on her rear. She just sat 
there for a few minutes, shivering with pain and covered with the 
remains of the monster. She could feel something going wrong with 
the healing in her left arm. The flesh of her forearm was twitching 
and spasming, only making the pain worse. Saturn looked at the 
twisting, jumping skin, and something in her stomach twisted and 
jumped in response.

	Her healing power was trying to get the break back in 
alignment. She'd have to pull the bone back into place so the 
healing could do its job.

	She gave an experimental pull, and the world went black. 

	Okay, she thought, I'll pull it back into place right after I 
throw up.

	It took nearly twenty minutes to get the bone back into place. 
Five minutes to screw up the courage to yank on an arm already 
screaming in agony, and fifteen to hover on the edge of passing out.

	Once her healing powers had taken care of the worst of the 
shock, she went back to where she had left her briefcase. She had to 
carefully prop the Glaive upright against one of the dirt piles. If 
she put it down, she might not be able to pick it up again. The one 
good thing about Mistress 9's takeover of her body and her father's 
cyborg implants was that she had some experience dealing with 
intense pain. Even so, now that she had the time to notice how much 
she hurt, it was a struggle not to throw up a second time. Her left 
hand was still throbbing and swollen. The index finger on her right 
hand didn't want to bend, but she was able to open the case and 
check inside. She looked to see if she had her Senshi communicator 
with her. Nope. Of course not. A whole year had gone by with nothing 
more than a couple of random incidents, so why would she carry it 
with her?

	If she couldn't reach the others by phone between classes, she 
would have to wait until they met that afternoon. Right now, 
however, she had to figure out how she was going to explain being 
tardy. Haruka-papa would have a fit if she got detention. It would 
take at least an hour before her hands and arms were back to normal. 
If she went in this condition, she'd have more to explain than why 
she was late to school.

	School? She'd nearly gotten killed by a dirt-thing and she was 
worried about school? Sailor Saturn ran home at superhuman speed, 
Silence Glaive in one hand, briefcase tucked under her arm. With any 
luck, Haruka or Michiru would still be home.

	Of course she'd only just missed them. Saturn called the 
junior high office and told them that Hotaru would be out sick. 
Hopefully, her Saturn voice sounded different enough from her normal 
voice that the school secretary wouldn't question it.

	Her right hand was now healed enough for her to write a note 
for the others, briefly explaining what had happened. 

	She really should go back to the construction site to see if 
there was anything there she had missed, but she was in no shape to 
fight if another one of those things showed up. Instead, she went 
into the living room, propped the Silence Glaive up against the 
stereo cabinet, and flopped down on the couch for a nap, not even 
bothering to transform back to Hotaru. Now that she was no longer 
walking around, she could feel the healing working more swiftly. Her 
body began to relax as the pain faded away. If only her mind could 
relax as well.

	All she could think about was how close it had been. She 
didn't even know how she had beaten the mud-thing. A hiccup-like sob 
escaped. What if she'd been killed? How long would it be before 
anyone noticed she was gone? Would Michiru-mama and Haruka-papa know 
where to look for her? What if the monster took her with it? Would 
they ever know what happened to her? Maybe they'd just think she ran 
away.

	She could not stop asking herself 'what if.' Saturn was now 
shaking with sobs, and hot tears pooled up in her eyes and ran down 
into her hair. Would anyone even miss her? Part of her knew she knew 
she was silly to even think such a thing, but the thought still 
twisted painfully in her heart and in her gut.

	Shaken, in pain, and so very, very tired, the Senshi of ruin 
and rebirth eventually cried herself to sleep.



10:45 a.m.


	"So, Seidou-san. This puts a bit of a cramp in things."

	Taiyouko growled and didn't even look up at her partner. 
Keisuke was always cheerful, even on Monday mornings, which should 
be outlawed. Surprise, surprise, the stupid exchange program had 
already thrown her a curve. She was supposed to host one of the 
American detectives. She had even set up a nice little cot in her 
bedroom that morning.

	"Who would have guessed that all of the women would end up 
going to departments outside of Tokyo? You aren't going to let them 
make you host a male houseguest in your apartment, are you?"

	"Why not?" she snapped. "I'll just be sure to keep my softball 
bat under the bed in case he gets frisky."

	Keisuke wisely chose not to comment on that remark, and took 
another tack. "Seidou-san, it's not fair to him to make him sleep on 
your couch for four weeks. Besides, you'd end up killing him." 

	True enough, Taiyouko thought.

	"I'll just bring him home with me," Keisuke continued. "We can 
set up the study as a guest bedroom--we've done it dozens of times 
for my mother-in-law." He settled back in his chair, satisfied with 
himself for having solved the problem.

	"Keisuke," said Taiyouko, still not looking up from the piece 
of paper she was studying, "you consider yourself and Akiko to be 
happily married, don't you?"

	"Of course!" he replied, surprised and obviously more than a 
little insulted.

	Taiyouko finally looked up at him, staring him straight in the 
eyes. "Do you want to *stay* happily married?"

	He nodded.

	"Then call Akiko and *ask* her if it's okay if you bring a 
total stranger to come stay in your house for a month."

	Keisuke paled, then scrambled to pick up the phone, nearly 
knocking it off the desk in his haste.

	Taiyouko turned her attention back to the profile given to her 
that morning. This detective was from Baltimore. That was somewhere 
near Boston, wasn't it? He'd gotten an associate's degree (whatever 
that meant) back in 1992, worked as a uniformed officer for three 
years, commendations, etc., etc. Promoted to detective in 1995, 
assigned to Narcotics. Lots of arrests, two major undercover busts, 
commendations, etc., etc. Transferred to Homicide in December of 
1996 as one of their youngest detectives, commendations, blah-de-
freaking-blah. Had a 100% clearance rating in 2000. She looked at 
his D.O.B. and shuddered.

	1973? 100%? Save me from child prodigies, she thought. The 
photograph did not bode well, either. This Detective Wright had  
Paul Newman-blue eyes, and a thatch of dark blonde hair. Even when 
presented with just a photograph, she felt an urge to reach out and 
brush the hair out of his eyes. His features were on the rough side 
of delicate, not quite boyish, not quite rugged. *Nice* cheekbones. 
Someone that good looking had to be aware of it. Everything about 
the boy screamed out "insufferable."

	Keisuke had to clear his throat to get her attention. He 
flicked a glance towards Harada-san's office. Oh goody. Time to meet 
Wonder Boy.


					#  #  #


	Jason said farewell to the other participants in the exchange 
program early that morning, watching as they were shipped off to 
Kobe, Kyoto, Osaka, Sapporo, and elsewhere. Two F.B.I. agents and a 
member of the Atlanta P.D. bomb squad were staying in Tokyo, but 
were assigned to the task force that had worked the Aum Shinrikyo 
subway attack and was currently working to prevent similar 
incidents.

	Now, Jason had been brought to Kenichi Harada's office. He had 
to wait outside for a minute or two while the other man finished up 
a phone call. Jason watched through the louvers as the portly man 
paused for a moment after hanging up the phone to wipe his brow with 
an oversized handkerchief. Harada's cheeks were bright red, but 
despite his bulk, he did not appear as if he were normally florid-
faced. That must have been some phone call, thought Jason. He was 
glad that he was only a visitor, and not likely to have to deal with 
the fallout from whatever it was.

	Harada looked up at Jason, a flash of irritation fading into 
nothing but the most serene goodwill. "I am sorry for your waiting, 
Detective Wright," he said in good, if deliberate, English. "In my 
job there are things which must not be lingered."

	"No apology is needed, Harada-san," said Jason in barely-
accented Japanese. Harada jerked almost imperceptibly in surprise. 
"Most criminals don't do us the courtesy of scheduling their crimes 
with us."

	"I didn't realize that you spoke Japanese, Wright-san." The 
faint "o" sound appended to his last name brought a nostalgic smile 
to Jason's face. "My compliments on your accent."

	"To be perfectly honest, Harada-san, I was born in Japan, and 
my family lived here until I was ten. My accent is no more an 
accomplishment than it would be for any Japanese child. Still, it is 
very kind of you to say so," he said, accepting the compliment with 
the expected modesty.

	Harada smiled. "Whatever the case may be, I'm glad that I 
won't have to translate for Detective Takamori. Detective Seidou, on 
the other hand, speaks excellent English. Would it be too much of an 
imposition to ask if you could speak in Japanese while we're 
together?"

	"Not at all." In fact, the more Japanese he heard on the 
street, in the hotel lobby, on the subway, the more he noticed 
himself starting to think in Japanese. He wondered what kind of 
culture shock he would experience when he returned to Baltimore. 
*If* he returned to Baltimore.

	"Detective Seidou might be a little... unorthodox, but is 
probably our top detective," Harada said, "and Detective Takamori 
has put in many years of excellent service with the department. You 
should get an excellent idea of how we operate by working with the 
two of them."

	Translation: Seidou had pissed off a lot of the higher-ups in 
the department, but was too good at his job to be let go. Takamori 
was a dependable plodder who probably didn't have much in the way of 
imagination, but could be counted on to cross the 't's and dot the 
'i's, and help keep people like Seidou in check.

	Harada called in the two. Jason was mildly surprised to see 
that one of the detectives was a woman. She bowed curtly but 
respectfully to Harada and Jason. The other detective also bowed, 
but with genuine welcome. He tried to see if he could figure out 
which was Seidou and which was Takamori before formal introductions 
were made.

	The man was a well-preserved forty-something in a respectable 
gray suit. The tie had a dark navy background with a small pattern 
that turned out to be miniature cartoon characters. A quick glance 
told him that yes, the man did wear a wedding band. The dependable 
family man. This would be Takamori, then. He was of average height, 
average build, average features, average everything. His hairline 
was just starting to retreat to the highlands, and his expression 
mixed good humor with mild fretfulness. All in all, he reminded 
Jason of a Japanese incarnation of Bob Newhart.

	If he had to guess, he'd place the woman in her early forties. 
The expression on her face reminded Jason of something his mother 
had said about her own mother: "She's just like Santa Claus, except 
she's mean." Her navy pantsuit was clean, but that was all that 
could be said on its behalf. She was maybe five-two, tops, but wore 
beat-up loafers rather than heels. The honey-brown hair was cut in a 
wash-and-wear bob that showed a good half-inch of mousy gray at the 
roots. She wore no makeup and no jewelry other than a sports watch, 
and was about ten pounds heavier than fashionable. 

	Seidou was about a foot shorter than Jason, but he felt like 
she was the one looking down, and he was the one looking up into 
unusually pale hazel eyes, eyes that were more gold than green or 
brown. Any moment now, she'd be asking him if he'd been naughty or 
nice, and heaven help him if he'd been naughty, because she sure as 
hell wouldn't.

	"Jason Wright, may I introduce Taiyouko Seidou and Keisuke 
Takamori. They will be your hosts during your stay here." He invited 
the three of them to sit down at a table that had been set with a 
utilitarian coffee service. The strange inversion of perspective 
passed, but he could still feel Seidou studying him.

	"So you're from Baltimore," she said bluntly, once they had 
been introduced. She spoke in English, with a faint British accent 
riding along with the Japanese. The huskiness of her voice suggested 
she was a habitual smoker. To his surprise, she actually started to 
gather cups with fluid, graceful movements as if preparing to pour 
coffee for the three men. Harada and Takamori looked surprised as 
well. Shocked, to be more precise. "What can you tell us about your 
city?"

	"Home of the misdemeanor homicide," Jason replied in English, 
using one of his partner's favorite phrases. Seidou continued to 
watch him. He noticed that she held the coffee pot poised over the 
first cup, a tiny bead of dark liquid hanging on the edge of the 
spout like the sword of Damocles. The other two men seemed to be 
waiting for Rod Serling to pop in and deliver a monologue. 

	"Forgive me for saying this, Seidou-san," Jason said, "but you 
don't look like the kind of person who got where she is today by 
playing the proper little office lady." He spoke in Japanese.

	Harada looked like he was about to have a coronary. Takamori 
eyed the door wistfully.

	Seidou let out a short bark of laughter and continued to pour.  
"Harada-san, Keisuke, don't get used to this, okay?" Her Japanese 
sounded much less upper-crust than her English. "Detective Wright, I 
noticed you were sizing us up. It's good to know that you have the 
guts to act on your deductions," she looked up with a mischievous 
glint in her eye, "even when it might be dangerous. If you're a good 
boy, someday I'll tell you what I've figured out about you. So, now 
that I've gotten my laughs for the day, please tell us a little 
about your city."

	After telling them a little about Baltimore, and assuring them 
that he was not joking when he said that having 262 homicides in 
2000 was considered a *good* thing, in comparison to the 300 plus 
the year before. He talked in detail about some of the undercover 
work he had done when working in Narcotics, the whole culture of 
West Baltimore and its drug corners, and the people who struggled to 
break free of a vicious cycle. 

	When he told about his transfer to Homicide, he carefully 
avoided telling them about Luther Mahoney and company, even though 
his understanding of Mahoney's business methods was directly 
responsible for his transfer and promotion. The story was too 
complicated, and it might lead down some very unpleasant paths. 
Plus, there was something about the way that Seidou stared at him 
with those intense, pale eyes that made him realize that she could 
be a match for Frank Pembleton when it came to interrogating a 
suspect and wringing out a confession. He would have to be very 
careful when approaching certain topics.

	Eventually, Harada broke in to review the IPA rules and 
regulations with the three detectives. Jason was to act as an 
observer only, perhaps lending some assistance from time to time, 
but not in circumstances when evidence or witnesses might be 
compromised. He steepled his hands together, drumming the tips of 
his fingers together as he looked everywhere but in Detective 
Seidou's eyes. "That brings us to the matter of what case Detective 
Wright should assist you with."

	Seidou apparently had all that sorted out already. "The two 
big cases Keisuke and I have right now are about ready to go to 
trial, so we're just waiting to see if the prosecution needs us to 
do any more digging. Since there's nothing to do there but hurry up 
and wait, I thought I'd have Detective Wright help us on the Chiba 
case, if you don't mind."

	"I think that... the Chiba case," stammered Harada. "Why, why 
yes. That would, yes, the Chiba case would be most appropriate, 
thank you. An excellent suggestion, Detective Seidou."

	At that moment, Jason and Seidou both gave each other a quick 
glance. What the hell, they both said without words, was all *that* 
about? Seidou then winked at Takamori, and turned to Jason with a 
wide, sharky grin.

	"So, Wonder Boy," she said. "Do you think that you and your 
100 percent clearance record are up for a challenge that's over 
fourteen years old?"

	This was going to be interesting, thought Jason, as he smiled 
genuinely for the first time since landing in Japan.



11:00 a.m.


	Haruka's last class for the day was finally over. Through a 
little fancy planning, she'd managed to schedule her classes in a 
way that left her with most of Monday and Wednesday free.

	She lifted her arms into the air, stretching luxuriously. In 
another hour she would be meeting Shinji Morimoto. Her father's old 
racing rival and best friend had to see to some business in Tokyo, 
and since he was going to be in town, he wanted to treat his 
favorite 'niece' to lunch at her favorite restaurant.

	God, it would be good to see Uncle Shinji again. A good 
portion of the old guard, the men who'd essentially raised her, were 
still on the racing circuit, but with every passing year there were 
fewer and fewer familiar faces in the pit crews or behind the wheel.

	If only Ami hadn't gotten this wild hair about some strange 
dreams, then she and Uncle Shinji could extend this visit into the 
dinner hour, the way they did on previous visits. If Michiru hadn't 
had any odd visions, then things couldn't be *too* bad, could they?

	Funny, though. Michiru hadn't slept well the past two nights. 
Last night had been especially rough. Haruka rubbed the bruise on 
her upper arm. She must have gotten clipped by a stray elbow. When 
Haruka, assuming nightmares, asked her what was wrong, Michiru had 
only gasped in mock horror that she had somehow hurt Haruka.

	Haruka couldn't help grinning. Michiru had of course offered 
to kiss away the bruise. Who could resist such an offer? Michiru was 
a *very* attentive nurse.

	Since she wasn't in too much of a hurry, she took the long way 
across campus, so she could enjoy the walk. A guy sitting with a 
clutch of other students in the quad waved hello. Haruka waved back. 
She didn't remember his name, but they sometimes exchanged small 
talk while waiting for lit class to start. 

	A couple of girls, arm in arm and giggling, said a giddy hello 
as they passed her. Haruka nodded in acknowledgement, her smile a 
little more fixed. She enjoyed it when girls tried to flirt with 
her, but it could get awkward if she didn't know if they thought she 
was a guy or a girl.

	She respectfully greeted her history professor, who then told 
her that she had done an excellent job on her report on the Meiji 
reconstruction and would be getting an A. Good grades from this 
professor were as rare as the proverbial hen's teeth. Was this a 
great day, or what?

	Haruka turned down one of the walkways leading back to where 
she stashed her bike, cheerfully returning the oak tree's greeting 
as she did so.

	Now wait just a minute, here.

	Haruka studied the tree carefully. The whisper was not 
repeated, but a clump of leaves jostled suspiciously. There was no 
wind. She circled the tree, peering up into its branches. Deep in 
the darkness near the trunk of the tree, the shadows had a purple 
tinge. Haruka's jaw tightened. The darkness shifted, and a flash of 
white confirmed her suspicions.

	"Hotaru-chan, what the *hell* are you doing up there?"

	Hotaru glared and sssh'd her.

	"Cut the Dr. Evil routine," Haruka continued, but in a 
whisper. "Why aren't you in school? Why are you in a *tree*? Why are 
you wearing..."

	Oh, shit.

	"Why else would I be Sailor Saturn?" Hotaru whispered back. 
"We've got trouble."

	"Again? Oh, that's great. That's just fu... antastic!" she 
finished. The last thing she wanted was for Hotaru to start swearing 
on top of everything else. "What's going on?"

	A couple of students slowed to watch what Haruka was up to. 
"I'm having a private conversation," she snapped. "Now get going, 
unless you feel like starting something, all right?"

	One student shook his head sadly, murmuring something about 
crazy, tree-hugging environmentalists, and the two continued on 
their way.

	"Why didn't you call me or something?"

	By way of answer, Hotaru held out something that resembled a 
wristwatch and dropped it. Haruka fumbled a bit, but was able to 
catch it.

	"Rei-san's the only one who had her communicator with her. I 
can't reach Michiru-mama or Setsuna-mama, and Usagi-san has to keep 
her cell-phone off when she's in class."

	"Hold on. I'm coming up there." Haruka jumped to reach one of 
the lower branches. She managed to pull herself only partway up, 
getting tree bark and dirt all down the front of her shirt in the 
process. Great. She didn't have time to go home, so she'd have to 
buy a clean shirt before meeting Uncle Shinji. She shouldn't have 
been so quick to label this a good day. Now, how was she going to 
get up this stupid tree? Well, there was one way, and it didn't look 
like anyone else was around at the moment...

	A burst of deep blue energy lit up the tree, and a shower of 
leaves fluttered pathetically to the ground.

	Sailor Uranus easily clambered up to where Saturn sat. The 
Silence Glaive lay cradled by two forking branches that looked  
frighteningly spindly to Uranus. "The way you treat that thing gives 
me the willies, Saturn-chan. It's not like it's your cheerleading 
baton or something."

	She could practically *hear* Saturn's eyes roll. "Gee, and I 
thought I could use it in my next routine to spice things up."

	"That's not funny!"

	One of the few memories that Uranus had of the Silver 
Millennium was watching the wave of destruction rip outwards from 
Titan to crash through the entire solar system and beyond.

	"Sorry."

	At least this time, she sounded like she might be genuinely 
sorry, so Uranus decided to let it slide. Was she this bad when she 
was in her early teens? Probably. Still, it didn't make it any more 
pleasant to be on the receiving end of it.

	It was also strange to see the Senshi of Ruin and Rebirth 
behaving like an adolescent, complete with all of the hormonal 
hilarity that went on at that age. One thing that Uranus noticed 
early on about Saturn is that while the girl's Senshi personality 
and civilian personality were the most dichotomous of any of their 
little circle, there were times when the dark (and frankly, spooky) 
Saturn would peer out of Hotaru's eyes. On the other hand, there 
were times when dour Saturn would suddenly look or act like a girl 
in her early teens.

	Brilliant idea, thought Uranus. Give the ability to pulverize 
the entire planet to someone who was going through the equivalent of 
permanent PMS.

	"So, what happened? I know you wouldn't skip school unless it 
was really important." That last was warning as much as statement. 
Still, Hotaru was a good student, and took her studies almost as 
seriously as Ami. If she had skipped, then something must have 
really rattled her.

	"I was on my way to school, when I sensed something strange 
coming from that construction site. You know the one?"

	Uranus nodded. She noticed that Saturn's eyes had grown a 
little colder and darker.

	"Whatever it was, I could tell it wasn't human. It didn't even 
seem to be alive, but it did seem malevolent, like a very 
sophisticated weapon. I went to investigate, and I was attacked by 
some sort of creature, something like a daimon or a lemure, but more 
powerful. More primitive. It looked like something a very young 
child might have sculpted out of clay, except this was made of 
dirt."

	"A mud-man?"

	Saturn nodded. "From the way it shattered rocks when it hit 
them, it was quite strong. It also survived several direct hits from 
the Silence Glaive." She looked pensive, and Uranus suspected that 
the encounter had been a much closer call than Saturn wanted to let 
on. She resisted the urge to gather the younger girl into a tight 
hug.

	"What about your other attacks?"

	"It walked right through the Silence Wall." This time the 
voice was of a young girl trying not to show how frightened she was. 
"The only thing that stopped it was when I hit it in the head with 
the Glaive. It just fell apart. There was no death scream, no sign 
of any escaping magic. Just dirt."

	Uranus was silent for a little while. "You did the right 
thing, coming here. I wonder if there's some way we can reach the 
others before this afternoon." At least Rei was on the alert. 
Michiru shouldn't be too hard to track down, but Setsuna's schedule 
was so variable, she could be anywhere. Thank goodness that Usagi, 
Ami, Minako, and Makoto were together during the school day. They 
could look out for each other. She didn't know where Mamoru was, but 
if trouble found him, Usagi should be able to sense it, and vice 
versa. "From now on, keep your communicator with you at all times, 
okay?"

	"You're the one who didn't have yours with you. I had to bring 
it from home."

	Sigh. "Point taken. I'm just saying that we need to be careful 
from here on out. I don't want anything to happen to you." Uranus 
reached out and squeezed the younger Senshi's hand. "I'm sorry you 
had to face that thing by yourself."

	"It's okay. I took care of it." Saturn was trying to sound 
tough, but Uranus could detect a tiny wobble in her voice. "I left a 
note in case Setsuna-mama comes home before the meeting. Was that 
the right thing to do?"

	"You did good," Uranus said. The plaintiveness in her 
daughter's voice made her eyes sting. She wanted to say more, but 
this sort of thing wasn't her strong point. Besides, the wobble in 
her own voice was more than tiny. "I'll be passing by Juuban High in 
a little while, so I'll stop to see if I can catch the girls between 
classes. Michiru gets out of rehearsal at noon. Could you meet her 
outside the music building? In civilian form? You can give her her 
communicator and tell her your story."

	"Why can't you go?" Maybe Saturn was just curious, but the 
words came out as sharp and accusing.

	Uranus tried to count to ten, but failed. "I have to be 
downtown at noon," she said. "Why do you always have to argue with 
everything I say?"

	"I wasn't arguing! And I didn't say I wouldn't go!" Saturn 
grabbed the Glaive, dropped out of the tree and dashed off at full 
speed, scaring the hell out of a passing junior professor.

	Uranus closed her eyes and leaned back against the roughness 
of the tree trunk. She had over-reacted. Again. No doubt Hotaru 
would spill the entire story to Michiru, and she would catch hell 
for it. Again. 

	She was barely out of her teens herself, so how could she be 
expected to raise a teenager? Hell, she couldn't even control her 
own temper enough to avoid snapping at a girl who was still on edge 
after a life and death battle! Boy, she was turning out to be a 
great parent, wasn't she?



11:45 a.m. 


	A young woman sat on the roof of an apartment building in 
Tokyo. It was not the same one she had visited on Friday night, with 
her gazing crystal, when she watched the Senshi at their gathering. 
She appeared to be doing nothing, not looking at anything, not 
thinking about anything, just sitting.

	She was slender, not terribly curvy, and perhaps just a little 
taller than average height when standing. Her red-gold hair was 
pulled back in a braid, showing off a delicate jaw line and oval 
face to best advantage. She wore knee-high white boots and elbow-
length white gloves. Her bodice was white, with a short lemon-yellow 
skirt and collar trimmed with paler yellow bows at the neck and 
waist. Two white opals graced her tiara and the bow at her collar.

	Someone with that kind of coloring and that sort of outfit 
might be expected to have eyes of jade green, or silvery blue, or 
even deep amber or icy violet. In truth, her eyes were a dull, 
ordinary brown that looked like a mistake.

	Her gazing crystal was cupped in the palm of one perfectly 
still hand. In the daylight, the crystal was almost invisible, with 
only a subtle refraction of the light betraying its presence. She 
paid no attention to the crystal. The bland, brown eyes just stared 
straight ahead, betraying nothing, with no sign of any intelligence 
lurking behind them.

	She had been led to this building an hour earlier. By pure 
chance, she had spotted the white cat with the moon-mark on its 
forehead. It belonged to the girl with the orange glow--Venus, she 
reminded herself. Sailor Venus. Since she had nothing else to do, 
she leapt from rooftop to rooftop, keeping an eye on the cat as it 
trotted along the sidewalks of Tokyo. She did not think it in any 
way odd that the cat would carefully watch for traffic signals or 
only cross at marked crosswalks. You were supposed to obey the 
signals and use the crosswalks. Even *she* knew that.

	Eventually, the cat went into an apartment building, slinking 
in through a half-open basement window that emitted an odor of 
steam, bleach, and detergent. The girl retreated to the top of the 
building to wait.

	She desperately wanted to go down and say hello to the kitty, 
but Mother had been firm with her about that. She was not to 
introduce herself to the other Senshi or their companions until the 
appropriate time. She was not to have contact with ordinary people, 
or allow them to see too much of her if she could avoid it. Instead, 
she was to observe the Senshi, see where they lived, see what they 
did, and most importantly, come tell Mother at once if anyone else 
was watching the Princess and her guardians.

	"Of course you want to be with them," Mother said. "It's in 
your nature, after all. But you must be patient."

	She did not like to wait. She saw the girls in their everyday 
dress as they went to school that morning, and it was only Mother's 
stern warning that kept her from running right up to them to say 
hello.

	She should have met them that past Saturday, but Mother had 
been concerned by the strange colors that the crystal had displayed 
on Friday night. Mother said not to worry too much about Sailors 
Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune. Their concerns were different than 
those of the Princess's Guardian Senshi. Mother did not tell her 
what the black glow meant, or who that strange woman on the balcony 
had been.

	It was the first time that the young woman had seen Mother 
worried by anything. Seeing Mother like that had made her feel 
unpleasantly trembly all over. Mother was quick to reassure her, 
however, saying that she would meet the Senshi soon enough.

	Finally, Mother said it was time, but although she knew the 
civilian identities of the Senshi, she was not to approach them in 
that form. "It will only disturb them," she said. "They may think 
you are an enemy. When you see them in uniform, then you may 
introduce yourself to them."

	"How will I find them?"

	"Wait for the golems," Mother said. "If you follow the golems, 
you will find the Senshi. "You do remember what to do with a golem, 
don't you?"

	"Yes, Mother," she said, pointing to the opal on her tiara. It 
hadn't been easy for her to memorize everything she needed to know 
about the Senshi and their enemies, but she had done it.

	She remembered what Mother said about the golems. The golems 
were evil. The golems must be destroyed. If not, they would hunt 
down the Sailor Senshi and kill them like dogs.

	She wondered how killing someone like a dog was different from 
killing them in some other way. Was it worse? Did it hurt more? One 
person she saw die had screamed and screamed and screamed for a very 
long time before he died. Was that what it meant to die like a dog?

	It didn't matter. When the golems appeared, she would be 
ready. She would destroy them. Mother would be proud of her.

	Until then, she would sit in the sun, waiting, just as Mother 
had told her to do.

	Sailor Sun was a good girl. She always did what Mother said.



12:25 p.m.


	"There she is," said Minako, "but it looks like she's headed 
over towards where Naru and all them usually sit."

	"That's all right," said Ami, "we'll see her this afternoon."

	"Forget that! There's something I've been dying to ask her, 
but I haven't had a chance." Minako stood up on her chair. "Usagi-
chaaaan! We're over heeeeere!"

	Ami slapped a hand to her forehead and Makoto gritted her 
teeth. Minako let it slide right off her back. She was the one 
getting the sidelong glances and generating the whispered comments, 
not them.

	On the other side of the lunchroom, Usagi shrugged and smiled 
apologetically at Naru, then went to join her other friends.

	"Is everything okay?" Makoto asked when Usagi got to their 
table. "They let us out for lunch ten minutes ago."

	Usagi unwrapped her bento and said a very quick blessing over 
it before plowing right in. "I had to sneak outside to call Mamo-
chan," she said between bites. "I kept trying to reach him this 
morning to tell him about the meeting, but I couldn't get through. 
The phone was busy."

	"Oops. That was probably me. I called to tell him, too, but he 
practically hung up on me," said Ami. "That wasn't at all like him. 
I only had time to tell him that we were meeting at the shrine after 
school. He said to start without him. He didn't even ask why we were 
meeting."

	"Did you manage to get through to him?" asked Makoto.

	Usagi poked the contents of her bento. After her initial 
plunge into the box (which always reminded Minako of a school of 
sharks going after chum), Usagi had again stopped after eating half 
of her lunch. It was going to be another one of *those* days, 
thought Minako.

	"Yeah." She stirred the chopsticks around in the bento, 
picking apart what was left of her lunch. "He tried to call me this 
morning, but he claimed he couldn't get through. He wanted to tell 
me that he had some sort of meeting this afternoon, and that he 
wanted to get together afterwards after school. Well, after we meet 
at Rei's shrine, now."

	"Um, I'm sorry to be all nosy and everything, but isn't that a 
*good* thing?" asked Minako. "I mean, normally, you'd be doing your 
spazzy Usagi happy-dance all around the lunchroom if he wanted to 
get together with you on a school night."

	"It's just that he sounded so tense, especially when he said 
that he had this meeting thing."

	"Did he tell you what it was about?" asked Ami.

	"No." Usagi jammed the chopsticks upright into the mess that 
now occupied her bento. "When I tried to ask him, he just said not 
to worry about it, that it was just something he had to take care 
of, and he'd tell me about it later."

	"Oh, come on!" snapped Makoto. "I thought he stopped that kind 
of nonsense after that business with the Dead Moon!"

	"Keep your voice down!" Ami said in an anxious whisper.

	Makoto rolled her eyes. "It's too loud in here for us to be 
overheard," she said, but her voice was softer. "I'll have to have a 
word with him," she said in a voice with cracking knuckles in it. "I 
understand that he only wants to keep you from worrying, but doing 
this sort of thing is just ridiculous! Doesn't he realize that not 
telling you things only makes you worry more?"

	"You'd think," agreed Minako. This fit in with the weird phone 
call she got from him this morning. Why on earth would Mamoru want 
to speak with Artemis? She'd meant to ask Usagi, but it sounded like 
Mamoru hadn't said much of anything to her. Oh, well. She could 
always get Artemis to tell her later. "Maybe he's got the male 
equivalent of pre-menstrual synonym."

	At that point, the conversation had to be put on hold for a 
moment. Ami had just taken a swig of her juice when Minako made her 
last remark, and it took a while for her to stop coughing and regain 
her composure, and for Makoto to wipe off the front of her uniform.

	"He wasn't like this on Saturday night," said Usagi. Her mood 
lifted, and her face didn't look quite so pinched. "I could tell 
that he had something on his mind, but once we got to dinner, he was 
fine. When we got back to his place, he gave me this *incredible* 
pearl necklace! We had a really nice time." The look on her face 
became positively dreamy.

	"Really?" purred Minako. "How nice was it?"

	"Details, girl. We want details," added Makoto.

	Ami groaned and Usagi flushed bright red. "You guys! Let's 
just say that it was... very nice, but nothing happened that would 
make my dad go after Mamo-chan with an axe if he found out about 
it."

	"No axes. Check. But was there anything mallet-worthy, 
perchance?" asked Minako.

	"Oh, maybe," Usagi said, with a very Setsuna-like smile on her 
face.

	Ami had her face buried in her hands and was slowly shaking 
her head back and forth. At least she hadn't slid her chair over to 
another table and pretended not to know them, thought Minako.

	"So, guys. What *is* the deal with the meeting this 
afternoon?" asked Makoto. "More energy-sucking monsters rampaging 
through the streets of Tokyo?"

	Oh, great, thought Minako as Ami shushed Makoto again. They 
finally get Usagi cheerful again, and Makoto has to go bring up 
business.

	Fortunately, Usagi's little sinking spell seemed to have 
passed, and she was now packing away the remainder of her mushed up 
lunch like it was candy. "Well, some of us--me and Minako and Ami 
anyhow--have had some weird dreams. I guess Rei did too, since she 
called me this morning."

	"And I called Rei," said Ami, "and she said that she'd had 
some visions when doing a fire-reading. Not exactly dreams, but 
still..."

	"What about you, Mako-chan?" asked Minako.

	Makoto looked puzzled. "I guess I'm feeling a little left out 
on this one, guys. My dreams haven't been anything special. There 
was one where someone was chasing me through the school and all the 
doors were locked. It was scary, but I've had nightmares like that 
before. I'd watched a horror movie before going to bed, so that was 
probably all it was."

	Ami was tapping her fingertips against her mouth. Her eyes 
were focused on something inside her mind. "We'll have to see what 
the others have to say." She gave Makoto a gentle smile. "Don't feel 
left out, Mako-chan. Many people forget their dreams when they wake 
up. Maybe you did dream about something."

	Makoto shrugged. She didn't look convinced.

	"Anyway," said Usagi, "I just hope that this isn't something 
bad about to happen again."

	"I know what you mean," said Makoto, matter-of-factly. Ami 
nodded her enthusiastic agreement.

	"Uh-huh," said Minako. "Hey, lunch is almost over, so we'd 
better pack down."

	"Up," said Makoto.

	"Whatever." She could understand why Usagi, Ami, and Makoto 
were hoping that all this turned out to be nothing but a tempest in 
a stockpot.

	She, on the other hand...

	Minako didn't know where she got the image from, probably from 
some foreign movie, but she could envision a pack of dogs milling 
around a red-coated man on horseback. The man would blow a hunting 
horn, and the dogs would always leap forward, yelping, on the scent 
at once. There was something in the way they ran and barked that was 
full of joy, that proclaimed that they were doing what they had been 
born to do.

	Yesterday, when she and Usagi had looked at each other's 
drawings, she could have sworn that somewhere in the distance, 
someone had just blown a hunting horn.

	She heard the horn, could hear it still, and all she wanted to 
do was run and follow that scent. To do what she was born to do.



1:15 p.m.


	Taiyouko kept a close watch on Detective Wright over lunch, 
and later on as he studied the Chiba file. Despite her little game 
in Harada-san's office (it always amused her to watch him and 
Keisuke get all wound up) and her deliberate implication that she 
could read him like a book, she simply could not figure this man 
out. 

	One thing that surprised her was that an associates degree was 
not an advanced degree, but the opposite. "Why didn't you go for the 
bachelors degree?" she asked when they were at lunch. She waited to 
see if he got defensive. There was only a flash of it, followed by 
nothing but resignation.

	"There were seven of us kids in my family, so there wasn't a 
lot of money to go around. I had a basketball scholarship, but after 
two years it was pretty clear that I wasn't quite good enough to go 
pro. Plus, there's something about playing a kid's game for obscene 
amounts of money that doesn't sit right with me."

	This of course caused Keisuke the sports-freak to shanghai the 
conversation, and the two men launched into a dialogue that might as 
well have been in Farsi for all Taiyouko could follow. She let them 
go on while she thought about the way Detective Wright's eyes had 
shifted when he explained why he had given up on pro ball. There was 
something more to that story, something more than crushed childhood 
dreams, and she wondered how it connected to the sadness that never 
quite left his eyes. 

	She'd seen a similar look when he talked about his career back 
in Baltimore. He'd told the truth, and nothing but the truth, but 
not quite the whole truth. Something was bothering him, but what?

	After two decades of police work, Taiyouko had come to a basic 
conclusion about human nature: everyone is guilty of something. 

	What had her foxed here was that she had no clue what Wright 
was hiding. Oh, she was no Sherlock Holmes, to be able to look at a 
man's shoes and deduce what train station he'd come from, what his 
occupation was, how he got along with his wife, what he'd named his 
children, and what he'd had for dinner three nights ago. But as she 
asked him questions, careful to sound conversational and not 
interrogatory, she got the feeling that she was skirting the edges 
of some big secret.

	After lunch, Taiyouko gave up trying to pry anything else out 
of him for a while. It would only drive her crazy and it might just 
shut Wright up for good. Instead, she allowed Wright prove his 
intelligence by the questions he asked about her current case. Had 
casts been made of the cranial injuries? What kind of DNA database 
did the Metropolitan Police have access to, and would it be 
worthwhile to see if there was anything still in evidence that could 
be used for a sample? What indicators were there that the couple in 
the car were the boy's parents and not, for example, a babysitter 
and her boyfriend?

	The boy even had the guts to question the tactics she used 
when first on the case fourteen years ago. Had she searched through 
missing persons reports? Grand theft auto reports? Kidnapping 
reports? Keisuke went wide-eyed and looked ready to dive under 
table, but Taiyouko just reached across and shook Jason's hand. She 
tried not to laugh when both men visibly sagged in relief.

	"Welcome to the team."

	When they got back from lunch, she let Jason take a look at 
the case file while Keisuke sorted through the various reports and 
statements he had collected that morning.

	"Hold on a second," said Jason. "It's been a while since I've 
been here, but isn't this Chiba guy's apartment in a pricey part of 
town? At least it was when I was here."

	"One point to Detective Wright." Taiyouko was a big fan of the 
follow-the-money school of detection. Humans were greedy bastards. 
She couldn't even count the number of times she'd seen bank records 
lead to a solid conviction. "Keisuke, any luck on that front? Is he 
subletting?"

	Keisuke slid a fax across to her desk. Jason was sitting at an 
awkward angle alongside their desks, and Taiyouko reminded herself 
to find him a place to sit where he'd have room for his legs.

	"No. His name's on the lease, and has been since he was 
declared an emancipated minor at age sixteen. His rent is 
automatically transferred to the leasing office's account on the 
first of every month, but there's never any corresponding debit in 
his own savings or checking account. I've tried tracing it, but a 
simple query got me nowhere. It's quite possible that our boy 
doesn't know how much his place costs, or even who's paying his 
bills. I'll have to do some fancy digging to find out the source of 
the money."

	"Damn! That's twice my own rent," snarled Taiyouko when she 
saw the fax. "Where's the justice in that? Find out who pays his 
college fees, if you can. Where'd he go to high-school--Azabu? Jeez, 
is this guy high-maintenance or what?"

	"I don't know about high-school, but he has a full scholarship 
for med school, based on academics alone. It covers books and 
everything. Oh, and it looks like he qualified for a year's study at 
Harvard last year, but didn't go."

	"Detective Takamori comes through again. Harvard, huh? And he 
bailed?"

	"Does it say why?" asked Jason. "Maybe whoever's footing his 
bills doesn't want him leaving the country."

	Keisuke shook his head. "I'll see what else I can find out. 
I'm still working on where he gets his pocket change. If I can get 
hold of his tax records..."

	"Hold on," said Taiyouko, "let's think about this for a 
minute." Just through talking to him over lunch, she knew that Jason 
was pretty smart. She still hadn't ruled out 'insufferable,' though. 
With his wire-rimmed reading glasses, the boy looked like quite the 
little scholar. This would let her see how he handled himself in a 
real investigation. "Okay, Wonder Boy. Why might this guy's patron 
want to keep him in Japan?" she asked.

	"Let's assume for a moment that all this is tied to organized 
crime. I know it's a leap, but not a huge one. Most mob hits are 
meant to take out someone within the organization who'd stepped out 
of line. The hit-men wipe out any evidence that could tie them to 
the crime, but those in the know would guess that this wasn't an 
accident, and that the same thing could happen them if they didn't 
straighten up and fly right. If it's a 'family firm', the boss might 
not flinch at killing his own son, but grandkids are different."

	Taiyouko nodded. "In other words, they may not have been 
expecting the kid to be in the car, and they had a nasty surprise 
waiting for them when they went to clean up."

	Jason pulled off his glasses, leaned back in his chair and 
went on with his theory. "That could explain why they left the kid 
alive after redecorating the crime scene. But, since business is 
business, they'd want to keep him close at hand in case he 
remembered something awkward. Plus, if it is a 'family' affair, that 
might go a long way towards explaining the financial aid."

	"According to Seidou-san's notes, the person who called in the 
accident had no police record," said Keisuke, "and nothing came up 
when we re-ran the name this morning."

	"Nothing like family crime," said Taiyouko. "There's always 
someone around to 'take care' of you. Wright, that's a tidy little 
theory, but it's based on a lot of assumptions. Logical assumptions, 
but assumptions nonetheless. I don't want either of you taking a 
crowbar to the facts to fit them into a pet theory. Let's hold off 
on any more theorizing until we've actually talked to this guy and 
find out what he does or doesn't know."

	Taiyouko knew it was tempting to grab on to the most 
sensational solution to a case. She'd fallen into the same trap 
fourteen years ago. Still, there was something appealing about 
Wright's theory. Taiyouko had similar thoughts herself. It might 
explain why the case was yanked, and also why it was handed back. 
She would have to make some discreet inquiries, and find out if 
there was an escalating power struggle in one of the syndicates that 
might lead to some politicking within the police department.

	Then, she would find out who in the department was on the take 
and make sure that the appropriate asses were thoroughly kicked.

	Right now, she was mulling over what was probably a stupid 
idea. Or maybe it wasn't so stupid. Jason was to be an observer, 
right? He'd done a good job of reading her back in Harada-san's 
office. Keisuke was a good detective, and could trace a string of 
legal and financial connections all the way back to the Treaty of 
Versailles if he so chose. On the other hand, he tended be befuddled 
by actual human beings.

	"Keisuke, would your delicate male ego be crushed if I took 
Wonder Boy along to the interview and left you here with your 
printouts?"

	Keisuke clapped a hand to his chest. "Though wounded to the 
very core, I shall soldier on, Seidou-san."

	"Good boy. Treat yourself to a cookie. Keep trying to follow 
the money back to its source, and when that pans out, see if we 
can't find out any more about where this boy was between ages six 
and eight. It's a little too convenient that those records were 
'lost.' Wright, your Japanese seems good enough for you to follow 
along with an interview. You want to come along and meet this guy?"

	Jason nodded.

	"Great. Just remember, you're an observer. Take notes on the 
conversation, jot down anything that seems odd, any little tics or 
weird body language this guy has. If you come up with a good 
question, then pass me a note or something, clear?"

	"Clear."

	"All right, then. Enjoy the ride, keep your eyes open and your 
mouth shut. If you're a good boy, I may even buy you an ice cream. 
Let's go."



2:55 p.m.


	"She should be here any minute. Are you ready?"

	Artemis yawned and stretched out his front legs one at a time. 
It was a way of preparing the body for action, not an expression of 
boredom or fatigue, but he'd given up trying to explain such things 
to humans. Let them make of it what they would. "Ready as I'll ever 
be. I just hang around, look adorable, keep eyes and ears open, and 
remember that cats don't talk, right?"

	Mamoru shot up from his chair yet again, this time to go to 
the bookcase and pull a few more books flush with the edge of the 
shelf. "That, and see if you can't look over her shoulder and see 
what she writes down." He stopped to look at the shelf of framed 
photographs. "There was a cat in one of my foster homes that was 
always getting into people's bags and purses and rummaging around. 
Is that a normal cat thing?"

	Artemis couldn't help wincing. The last time he had tried 
something like that, Minako hauled him out of her backpack by his 
tail. He wondered if she realized how much that *hurt*. "Sure. I can 
even manage a zipper if I have to--just tell her I'm a smart cat."

	The call from Mamoru was a surprise, to say the least. Artemis 
mostly thought of the young man as Usagi's boyfriend or as the 
reborn Prince Endymion. He could count the times he'd spent one-on-
one with Mamoru on the claws of one foot. Come to think of it, he 
hadn't known the original Endymion all that well, either.

	Even so, Artemis knew that it was a bit out of character for 
Mamoru to be dashing around his apartment like a paranoid squirrel. 

	"What I'm really worried about," Mamoru said, checking the 
peephole one more time, "is that this detective might find out about 
the Senshi, or Tuxedo Kamen. I just can't shake the feeling that 
somehow she already knows."

	Artemis decided that staying put on the couch was the best 
course of inaction for the moment. The last thing he wanted was to 
be stepped on by the agitated prince. Mamoru was a lot heavier than 
Minako. "I know what you mean. Minako still gets jumpy whenever she 
sees a policeman. Hey, speaking of Minako, if this thing doesn't go 
too long, could I stick around and talk to you for a minute? I need 
some advice on--"

	The doorbell rang. Mamoru closed his eyes for a moment, 
somehow got the nervous energy under control, then went to get the 
door.

	Artemis's ears flicked back in annoyance. Oh, well. Probably 
just as well he didn't get a chance to bring anything up. It would 
only open what Minako might call a "can of words." Artemis tucked 
his front paws under his chest, wrapped his tail around his 
haunches, and set his head at a fetching angle. 

	Don't mind me, people. I'm just your average, adorable kitty-
cat. 

	"Meow."


					#  #  #


	Mamoru opened the door to find two people instead of the 
expected one. Not knowing what else to do, he ushered them inside.

	"Mamoru Chiba?" asked the woman. When Mamoru nodded, she 
continued on. "I'm Detective Taiyouko Seidou. We spoke on the phone 
yesterday, I believe?"

	Of course it was yesterday, thought Mamoru. Or was this so 
routine for her that one case just blended into the other? He 
started to relax, just a tiny bit.

	She presented him with one of her business cards, then 
introduced her companion. "This is Jason Wright. He's from the 
United States," she explained, "and he's working with me on this 
case."

	This was international? So much for relaxing. What on earth 
was going on, and how had he gotten involved?

	The American extended a hand. Mamoru completed the handshake, 
saying a greeting in English as he did so. He tried not to stare. 
There was something about this man... the actor's face that he could 
somehow see going from naive to fierce to ascetic to roguish with 
only the barest change of expression. The air of competence that 
bordered on arrogance. I know this man, thought Mamoru, but any more 
than that was lost in a hail of conflicting, unidentifiable 
emotions.

	It was only Seidou's saying something to him that kept him 
from making an idiot of himself.

	"I'm sorry, Seidou-san, but I didn't catch what you just 
said."

	"Detective Wright will be taking notes of our conversation," 
Seidou repeated, "that is, unless you mind, Chiba-san."

	From the covert, puzzled look Detective Wright gave Mamoru, it 
was clear that he too had felt something when the two shook hands.

	Just what kind of connection was it? Whatever it was, it was 
strong--nearly as strong as the bond he had with Usa-ko.

	"Chiba-san, this is purely an informal inquiry at this point, 
but it may take us a while to go through some of this material with 
you. Would you mind if we sat down?"

	What could he do? Say no? He waved them towards the couch and 
two chairs ranked around three sides of his coffee table. Seidou sat 
down in Mamoru's usual chair, and he knew that this had not been by 
accident.

	As he walked over to the seating area, Wright surveyed the 
shelf that held Mamoru's collection of photographs. 

	"Wright-san, please, sit down." And stop staring at Usa-ko. If 
Mamoru were a dog, his hackles would have been standing straight up 
right then.

	Wright walked over to the couch, wincing when he saw Seidou's 
dirty look. Artemis got up and sauntered in closer to the action. 
The cat was hamming it up, swaying his hips and hold his tail up 
like a cheery little flag.

	"Would either of you like anything to drink?" Both of his 
'guests' said that they wouldn't mind some tea if he had some handy.

	Funny, he thought that the ritual of getting the tea would 
help calm him down. Instead, it only postponed the inevitable. When 
he got back into the living room, Artemis was sucking up to the 
female detective, depositing a haze of white fur on her navy slacks. 
"He's a gorgeous cat. How long have you had him?" she asked.

	"Oh... a couple of years," said Mamoru, simply because that 
was how long he'd known Artemis. He probably should have said he was 
cat-sitting, but oh well. What's said is said.

	Wright lowered his hand and held out pinched-together fingers 
in the universal 'maybe I have food' gesture that people used to get 
the attention of a domestic animal. 

	"Hey, boy. Hey, kitty," he called softly. 

	Artemis obediently padded over to the American detective to 
get his ears scratched.

	"That's an interesting marking you've got there, kitty. It 
sort of looks like a moon, doesn't it?"

	Seidou looked at the cat, raised one eyebrow, then dug a 
notebook out of her tote bag and passed it over to Wright.

	Wright left off scratching Artemis behind the ears. He looked 
at his hand, grimaced, and shook off a small cloud of white fur.

	Seidou pulled a large brown envelope out of her bag and laid 
it on her lap. She began her questioning without warning, not even 
looking Mamoru in the eye. Her voice was brusque and all business. 

	"I understand that you've been an emancipated minor since you 
were sixteen, correct?"

	"Yes." He wasn't sure where to look. Part of him wanted to 
study the American. Part of him wanted to confront this shabby 
little woman and tell her to get to the point and get this over 
with. 

	She remained quiet for a few seconds, studying a sheet of 
paper she had pulled out of the envelope. Artemis hopped up on the 
arm of her chair, pretending to beg for head-scratches. He purred so 
loudly that Mamoru could hear him from the couch. Mamoru had to 
fight back a grin. Then, the purring stopped. Artemis dropped to the 
ground with a startled trill, and hopped up on the couch next to 
Mamoru.

	*You're supposed to be spying, not hanging out with me,* he 
tried to communicate by the force of his glare. He even tried to 
nudge Artemis off of the couch, but the cat only leaned his weight 
into him and anchored his claws in the upholstery.

	"It says here that your parents were killed in a car accident 
when you were six." Detective Seidou finally looked up at him. "You 
were in the car with them."

	It was not a question, but he treated it as such. "To be 
honest, I don't know. That's what I was always told."

	The American blinked, startled. Seidou drew in a quick hiss of 
breath, then looked at him a little more closely. "I'm fairly 
certain you're the right person," she said, as if he'd be in big 
trouble if he wasn't. "Your eyes and the shape of your mouth are the 
same, and here, hold out your right hand... no, palm down. Good."

	Mamoru expected Seidou to take his hand in hers, but no, she 
only ran her forefinger down a faint, nearly invisible scar that ran 
from above his wrist all the way down to the web between his thumb 
and forefinger. He felt an electric tingle shoot up his arm. What 
she was doing seemed much, much too personal.

	"You got that scar from where your hand got caught by a bit of 
the wreckage when the divers pulled you out," she said. Then she 
raised an eyebrow. "Of course, there are a couple of other scars I 
could identify, but I really don't think you want to duck in the 
bathroom and shave your head, do you?"

	Sometime during all of this, Artemis insinuated his head 
beneath Mamoru's left hand. Mamoru found himself reflexively running 
his fingers through the downy fur behind the cat's ears, allowing 
himself to be distracted by the warmth and softness.

	"Chiba-san, I first met you approximately fourteen years ago, 
although I doubt you would recall the encounter. I was working a 
murder case at the time. Rather, it was a fatal traffic accident 
that was later classified as a murder, then closed as unsolvable." 
She looked at him. One corner of her mouth was quirked up, but her 
eyes were full of pity. The American only watched, his blue eyes 
flicking from side to side as he took everything in. "You can 
probably guess what I'm going to say next," Seidou said.

	Or did he only imagine that she said it?

	As the next, inevitable, words were spoken, Mamoru's world 
grew insubstantial. Something was cut loose in his mind and he 
slowly floated up and back from the scene. Only the feel of the warm 
fur beneath his hand held him in place. He heard the words, which 
were loud, and clear, yet coming from so very far away.

	Your parents.

	He heard the words. He understood them.

	Murdered.

	As words, they made sense, but they had no meaning for him.

	Someone killed your parents.

	His parents? Who were his parents? What did that word mean? He 
heard himself answer question after question on autopilot. Yes, no, 
I don't know. I don't remember. Over and over, I don't remember.

	Who did they know. What did they do. What did you see. You 
were there, you saw something, know something, heard something. Give 
us answers. There has to be something you can tell us.

	I don't know. I can't remember. He had no answers, not for 
them, not for himself. He was aware that he should be upset, but how 
could he be? This had absolutely nothing to do with him. His parents 
had died in a car accident when he was six. That's all there was and 
all there ever would be.

	Who were his parents?

	I don't know...

	Who was he?

	I was six. It was an accident. 

	I woke up, and I was six.

	That's all...

	That's all there ever was...



					#  #  #



Author's notes:

Stuff you probably already know:
RCMP=Royal Canadian Mounted Police
Bento=the traditional Japanese lunchbox