Title: Glass Rose - Chapter 1
Author: Azure
E-mail: blackrose918@hotmail.com
Standard Disclaimer Apply

Hey, minna! This is my *third* attempt to write the first chapter of Glass 
Rose! Hope you all enjoy it! Of course, my writing style is always to set 
the mood in the first chapter and then pick up the pace and action in the 
remaining chapters!


    Serena's Japanese was as limited as her grandmother's English. Although 
they had been very close when Serena was a small child, the present distance 
between the two was a lasting one. They simply couldn't become friends when 
they lacked such communication. Yet, Kenji Tsukino forced his mother and his 
daughter to meet every Sunday for two hours after church. Of course, Serena 
had protested at first. She loved the kind, old lady, no doubt about it, but 
they had nothing to say to each other. They spoke two different languages 
and they lived in two different worlds.
    Her grandmother had spent a childhood of hardships and tragedies in 
Hiroshima. When she was thirteen, her family had moved to San Francisco. 
However, her early life in America was no better than her life in Japan. 
With the coming of the second world war, she'd been ridiculed at school for 
being a 'Jap', then had been relocated to a concentration camp. Two years 
after the end of the war, her family had moved back to Japan, to Tokyo. 
Forgetting the little English she'd learned, she'd married late (in her 
father's term) at the age of twenty-seven. Out of the seven children she 
bore, only one survived. Kenji. And when Kenji was just two years old, her 
husband died of a cancer caused by the radiation of the atomic bomb dropped 
on Hiroshima during the war.
    A year after her husband's death, she'd moved back to San Francisco with 
hopes to have a happier life. But with such little education, she worked for 
the minimum pay. She lived in poverty all her life...until Kenji graduated 
from college.
    He'd received a scholarship to U.C. Davis and graduated with honors. 
When he was twenty-six, he made five million in the stock market. He started 
his own business and his fortune grew and grew. With unlimited access to her 
son's money, she lived in luxury for her elder years.
    Serena admired her grandmother's courage and bravery. Her life had but 
one hardship; one tragedy. When she was fourteen, her mother left the family 
to become an acting agent. And now...now her mother was famous. Olivia was 
the agent, and very recently, the wife of Darien Shields, the highest-paid, 
most-liked, best-looking actor in America. However, his fame also reached 
places far out of the country.
    Although Serena had seen, spoken, or written to her mother in four 
years, she often gazed upon a photograph or read an article of her mother in 
a magazine. She always felt bitter when she thought about her mother. Olivia 
wasn't exactly young at forty-four. And Darien Shields *was* young...still 
young enough to grab most of the lead roles in blockbuster films at 
twenty-eight. Serena found it odd that her mother was sixteen years older 
than her stepfather. But it wasn't the age that made the difference. She 
knew that her heart would still ache, even if Olivia had married a man of 
her age.
    Of course, other than her parents' divorce, Serena had lived a 
luxurious, sheltered life with her father and younger brother. There *was* 
Chelsea, a stripper who had an interest in Kenji...or rather...Kenji's 
money. But Serena's life had been typically good, free from the hardships 
that her grandmother had had to endure. Yet, Serena knew she wasn't 
satisfied. She wanted more. She wanted excitement and adventure. And she 
wanted romance. Her recent relationship with Andrew Furuhata would be 
considered too boring for a romance novel. And as much as she liked Andrew, 
she was coming to think that she didn't exactly love him the way she should. 
And as much as she hated to admit it, she found herself flirting with 
various other men she met.
    "Usagi-chan!" Kenji interrupted, his tone highly annoyed and slightly 
angry.
    Serena looked up and gazed shamefully at her father. She hadn't even 
been aware that she'd been daydreaming. But it wasn't a surprise, not at 
all. Lately, she'd found it becoming hard to focus. At work or even with 
Andrew, she was always distracted with her thoughts. Her friend, Amy, 
declared she was becoming philosophical. But Molly, another friend, said she 
was depressed and thinking too much. Serena had to agree more with the 
latter, yet, she thought she was becoming curious about examining her life 
rather than depressed.
    "Sorry," Serena muttered. "What were you saying?"
    Kenji sighed. He and Serena were seated opposite each other in his 
private study. It was quite beautiful, actually. There were several 
bookshelves made of the glossiest, brownest wood they'd ever seen. The 
carpeting was a crimson red and very thick, about three inches off the 
ground. Serena could barely walk in the study when she wore her high heels. 
There was a desk placed in the middle of the room, a slab of grey-flecked 
marble. There was the usual array of loose-leaf paper and stacks of 
important sheets piled up against and atop each other. You could see a few 
empty coffee mugs amid the chaos...and a collection of fountain pens and 
mechanical pencils. There were two telephones, one right smack in the middle 
and another in the corner atop a stack of business notes.
    "Usagi-chan. This is very important. Please...try to pay attention," 
Kenji pleaded.
    Serena caught an instant flash of panic in her father's warm brown eyes. 
She softened immediately and gave her father an encouraging smile. "Of 
course. I'm sorry, Daddy, I'm just preoccupied."
    "It's all right, honey. But...I need to speak to about something. 
Shingo-chan's gone to visit Olivia a few times. She also invited you, 
remember? But the first time, I refused and the second time, you were angry 
with her. It was right after her engagement to Darien Shields was 
announced," said Kenji. He leaned back against the plush chair and ran a 
hand through his wavy, golden brown hair.
    "Yes...I remember," Serena muttered. She sighed, clenching her hands 
together in one, big fist. "Daddy, you know this is a touchy subject to me. 
I'm not exactly on good terms with Olivia, you know."
    Kenji smiled sadly. "No, Usako. I've kept you away from her. For that, 
I'm truly sorry. I know it was wrong. But at the time, I was so afraid I 
would lose you to her. You used to be so close to her. And...Usako, I lost 
Olivia. I don't think I could've survived if I had lost you, too."
    "Oh, Daddy...you wouldn't have lost me. I think I love you and Olivia 
equally. But I couldn't have stayed with her. I was too angry with her. And 
I still am. I think, no matter what happens, I'll always feel a certain 
anger towards her," Serena declared. She flashed a shaky grin and reached 
across to hold her father's hands in hers. She flinched, noticing with 
surprise, that Kenji's usually warm hands were now icy cold to the touch. 
His broad, muscular frame shook with effort.
    "Usako...I love you," he whispered.
    "Daddy...what's *wrong*?" Serena asked, alarmed. Why was her father 
acting this way? What was happening? Was it something really so awful...so 
terrible? Was he...was he dying? Suddenly, Serena felt a threatening wave of 
bitterness and sadness wash over her. She gulped hard, swallowing her 
overwhelming instinct to cry.
    "I'm being foolish," said Kenji, laughing softly. He straightened in his 
chair, letting his hand slip from his daughter's. Clearing his throat, with 
an official tone, he started, "Olivia sent me a letter."
    There was an empty silence. Serena was afraid that words would ruin the 
certain, quiet understanding between them. But she couldn't help her 
curiosity from growing. She'd always wondered why her mother resisted any 
communication between them. In fact, even Sammy hadn't received a letter or 
telephone call from Olivia in a year. Finally, Serena spoke, knowing that 
she would have to sooner or later. "What...what did she want?" she asked, 
her voice quiet and withdrawn.
    "Obviously. She wants to see you, what else? And...Olivia has that 
right. She's your mother," Kenji explained.
    Serena felt a flutter in her stomach. She tried to remember Olivia's 
voice, how she spoke, what she said. But the only image she could muster was 
her mother handing an Oscar to Mina Aino, Best Actress. Serena had been 
spellbound, curled up on the sofa, a half-empty bowl of popcorn sitting her 
lap, the remote control resting on the arm of her seat. The television 
screen blinked with the faces of the hottest names in Hollywood, gathered 
together for the yearly Academy Awards. But only the coverage of Olivia 
Tsukino-Shields and Darien Shields sparked any interest in her. Olivia had 
been wearing a sleeveless, sea green, floor-length gown that complimented 
her sparkling, emerald-colored eyes. Darien Shields, of course, sported the 
traditional tuxedo. And later on, during the show, she'd watch Darien 
Shields' mesmerizing, dark blue eyes light up with pleasure with these 
words, "And the Oscar for Best Actor goes to...Darien Shields, for 'The 
Prostitute'!" And how she'd seen her mother and legendary rock star, Chad 
Kumada, together gracefully present the award for Best Actress. Her mother 
had announced in a clear, confident voice, "And the Oscar for Best Actress 
goes to...Mina Aino for 'The Prostitute'!"
    "Usagi-chan?"
    Serena shook her head. "Daddy...I can't. I can't see Olivia again."
    Kenji looked at his daughter incredulously. "Usako. I don't understand. 
I was so sure you would jump at the chance!"
    Serena chewed on her bottom lip, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I 
think if you'd asked me two years ago, I *would* have jumped at the chance. 
But...oh I don't know. It's just that...Olivia's not really my mother. I 
don't know what kind of person she is, what she likes, what her dreams for 
the future are..."
    "That's not true!" Kenji interrupted. An eager look took over his 
handsome, distinguished face. "She's your mother, Usagi Serena Tsukino! 
That's all you need to know." He smiled. "And I think you should start 
calling her 'Mom'. I don't think she'd appreciate 'Olivia' too much."

***

    As Serena drove carefully through the familiar streets to her 
grandmother's house, she thought about all Kenji had told her. She glanced 
precariously at the front pocket of her black purse. Her hand trembled on 
the leather steering wheel, burning with the desire to unzip the pocket and 
examine what in contained. The airplane tickets. The tickets that would take 
her to Beverly Hills. To her mother, whom she hadn't spoken to in four 
years, and her stepfather, whom she knew only from the media. She'd always 
been interested in the actor, hardly any girl in the United States wasn't, 
with his stunningly good looks and charm. But since his marriage to her 
mother, her interest in Darien Shields had almost come to the point of being 
obsessive. She kept a scrapbook of every article she could find that 
contained his name. She recorded any coverage on Darien Shields on 
videotapes. In fact, she had a whole collection of tapes on Darien Shields.
    However, Serena's obsession in Darien Shields was different than any 
other woman's. She didn't dream up incredible fantasies of a marriage to 
him. No. He was her stepfather. Her growing interest of him was merely 
because he was her mother's husband. And as foolish as it might seem, Serena 
wanted incredibly to know the kind of man that her mother would marry, the 
kind of man her stepfather was.
    Ironically, it did make more sense, age wise at least, for Serena to be 
Darien Shields' significant other, rather than Olivia. Serena was ten years 
younger than her stepfather. He was young enough to be her brother, and, of 
course, young enough to be her husband. However, the situtation turned out 
completely the opposite. And no matter how much Serena twisted and turned 
the predicament, there was always the fact that Olivia had had access to 
Darien Shields in a way Serena could never hope to have. Before Olivia's 
connection with Darien Shields, Serena hadn't even dreamed of meeting him. 
It was a thought too dangerously impossible that she didn't ever want to 
think of it. And now? Now she had the chance to meet Darien Shields. Not as 
a fan, however. But as his stepdaughter, the daughter of his wife.
    Serena's white Acura pulled up into her grandmother's driveway. The 
house was a small one, with but three bedrooms, but every inch was covered 
in luxury. The carpets were made the same as the carpeting in Kenji's study; 
three inches thick. The floors were turquoise marble or a shiny-finished 
hardwood; never the cheap linoleum. The furnishings gave the house a 
contemporary look, yet, they also reminded one of the old-fashioned styles. 
Of course, every piece of furniture was made of the best. As Kenji often 
commented, 'Only the best is good enough for my mother.'
    Kenji wanted desperately for his mother's last years to be as 
comfortable as he could manage. He could remember quite clearly how his life 
in poverty had been. His guilt weighed him down, as he remembered his mother 
bringing home only enough food for one. And who had eaten the food? Him, of 
course. And now that he had the money to thank his mother, he did all he 
could.
    However good Kenji's intentions were, for they were good intentions, 
Serena felt her grandmother wasn't very happy. Soon, she began to realize 
that her grandmother didn't want money and luxury. She just wanted peace, 
respect, and a little companionship. The maids came and went without an 
acknowleding glance. The cook could speak only Portugese fluently, English 
with a terribly thick accent, and she didn't even know the language of 
Japanese even existed. Serena had come to understand her grandmother's 
loneliness.
    Of course, when Kenji had hired a translator, her grandmother had had 
someone to share jokes with and laugh with afterwards. Naru Osaka, whose 
English name was Molly, had been born and raised in Tokyo. She'd started her 
studies in English when she was in middle school, and was an English major 
in college. When she graduated, she moved to Chicago, and attended a 
university there, majoring in nursing. For six years she'd worked in a 
Springfield hospital. At thirty-five she'd moved to Stockton to work as a 
translator. Now, three years later, she lived in an old woman's house in San 
Jose, as her nurse and translator.
    Serena was very fond of Molly. She was very kind and charming, and was 
very gentle and friendly with Serena's grandmother. In fact, Molly had given 
her an English name, a simple, common name, Amy. Amy insisted to be called 
her new name, even by her son and granddaughter.
    Serena smiled at the memory as she locked the door of her car and 
sauntered over to the front door of the house. She rang the doorbell, 
knowing that they expected her at an exact time, and she was late.
    "Ser! We thought you forgot all about us," exclaimed Molly, her head of 
tight, red curls peeking out from the door.
    Serena smiled. Thankfully, Molly didn't insist on calling her by her 
given name. And although 'Serena' was just her middle name, she felt it was 
more hers than 'Usagi'. After all, only her father and grandmother addressed 
her in that way.
    "Sorry, Moll. I was talking with Daddy and we got a little carried 
away," Serena admitted. She placed her sunglasses on the top of her head as 
Molly ushered her into the house.
    "Oh yes," Molly nodded knowingly. "It was about your mother's letter 
wasn't it?"
    Serena shrugged off her black leather jacket and faced Molly with an 
eyebrow raised in confusion. "You knew about it?"
    Molly sighed, leaning closer to the younger girl. She smoothed a stray 
strand of blonde hair across Serena's forehead. "Kenji asked me for advice." 
She shook her head, resignation clear on her strong face. "He didn't want to 
tell you, obviously. He's still terrified of losing you. But you're an 
adult. And I think it's your right to make the decision whether you want to 
see Olivia or not."
    Serena followed Molly's retreating figure into the parlor, where her 
grandmother was patiently waiting. Amy sat in a plush recliner, an antique 
quilt tossed over her lap. She wore a green velvet pantsuit, with a puffed 
lace collar, that flared at the legs. Modern heaters caused her a stuffy 
nose, so the room held a dusky chill. To keep her upper body warm, a black 
satin cape closed around her neck and covered the goosebumps marking her 
arms, wrinkled with age. Amy was short and thin as a rail, yet, she held a 
sort of regal respect over her. Her snow white hair was streaked with ebony 
and piled on top of her head in a mass of curls. Her black eyes were large 
and expressionless, standing out like expensive, wet jewels, across her aged 
face. She looked like a queen. And in a way she was. Queen of the Tsukino 
family. Despite her frailness, even Kenji was slightly afraid of his mother.
    "Good afternoon, Grandmother," Serena said perkily, dropping a kiss on 
Amy's soft cheek. "Terribly sorry that I'm late. Daddy and I were talking 
about some...important matters."
    Molly spoke in rapid Japanese. And although Amy's eyes were settled on 
her granddaughter, her focus and attention was mainly on Molly's words.
    "Usagi-chan. Me Ami," said her grandmother after Molly's short, 
controlled pause.
    Serena smiled. As much as she was reminded, her grandmother could never 
pronounce her own American name correctly. According to her, her name was 
Ah-mee, not Ay-mee. "Yes, of course. Amy. How was your day?"
    Molly translated. The old woman came back with a fast, jumbled rush of 
words that even Molly had to pay extra attention to understand every detail. 
She smiled an patted Amy's modernly styled hair. "She says that Kenji was a 
fool to marry Olivia. Everyone knew that Olivia had him on a short leash. 
But Kenji was blinded with his love. Now, because of his mistakes, his 
children must suffer. But you don't have to suffer if you don't want to. In 
the end, your happiness is always your decision. If you decide to be happy, 
then you *can* be happy. If you want to avoid the past, and your mother, 
then so be it. But then you must live forever with your guilt and your pain. 
If you go to see Olivia, you will be facing your past, your hurts, your 
suffering. But that is really the only way to achieve real joy. Because pain 
is a little like a canker sore. If you forget completely about it, it's 
almost like the hurt is gone. But because you have forgotten about it, you 
accidentally bite down, hard, on your canker sore. And the pain rushes back, 
this time, more sharply and bitterly. And if you don't, by chance, bite down 
again on the canker sore, you will always remember in your subconscious and 
it will haunt you until it is gone. But unlike a canker sore, emotional pain 
is never really gone. So then, it will haunt you forever."

***

    "Darien! Closer to Michelle!" Lita Kino bellowed. She leaned forward in 
her high-propped chair, dangerously close to falling off the edge and 
breaking her carefully powdered nose. "You're lovers! Lemme see some 
passion!"
    Michelle Kaioh tossed her massive mane of silky, aquamarine-colored 
curls and lifted a corner of her perfectly applied dark maroon lipstick-clad 
mouth with distate. "Lita, it's really too hot. And this makeup just will 
not *work*! When I kiss Darien it smears all over his chin."
    Darien scowled. "And Michelle can't *pretend* to French kiss without 
*really* sticking her tongue in my mouth."
    Lita sighed and ran a hand through her thick, chestnut brown hair with 
exasperation. "Please, Darien. Can't you guys go through just *one* scene 
without some kind of stupid argument?"
    Michelle pursed her lips and shot Darien a triumphant look. "Come on, 
*Darry*," she purred. "You know the only reason you don't want me to French 
kiss you is because I turn you on."
    Darien let out a peal of laughter, voicing his surprised disbelief. "Oh 
yeah," he answered, his tone dripping with honeyed sarcasm. "It just 
*really* turns me on when a bitchy lesbian sticks her tongue in my mouth. 
How logical."
    Lita coughed uncomfortably. Michelle's emerald green eyes flashed with 
undeniable anger. Her fingers dug into her palms, her knuckles dead white. 
Darien sensed the images running through Michelle's active mind, images that 
included her first coming into contact with his precious face. The thick 
silence surrounding the set of the film-in-progress, 'All Through the Ages.' 
Darien knew he had gone too far. But he wasn't sure just how long he 
could've held on. Michelle was beautiful all right; beautiful and 
temperamental and uncompassionate and critical and just...a pushy bitch. Her 
managers tried their best to hide her sexual nature, but rumors flew about 
Michelle and her so-called "cousin" Amara Tenoh, a famous race car driver. 
Darien's connection with Michelle was strong. They'd met by mutual friends 
and remained close ever since. Michelle was well-known for her supporting 
roles in box office hits. Her mantel shelf proudly displayed three polished, 
golden, Oscar trophies, all titled for Best Supporting Actress. One, was 
awarded for last year's top moneymaking film, 'The Prostitute.' A film, of 
course, that Darien himself had starred in with the beautiful, sexy, Mina 
Aino.
    "Darien? Michelle? Can we please get on with it?" Lita suggested 
timidly. She slouched back in her director's seat, opposing her usual 
straight-backed, overbearing position.
    Before Darien could open his mouth to retort, a sharp, "Hold it!", 
startled his ability to speak. Annoyed by the interruption, he looked up 
with a frown. A short, plump, middle-aged woman with wavy dark hair stood 
next to Lita, a miniature black telephone receiver in her hand.
    "You have a call, Mr. Shields," said the woman. She had a puzzled 
expression on her face. "She says...she says she's Olivia's daughter."
    Darien raised his eyebrows in shock. Olivia's daughter? Usagi? Why would 
she call *him*? He'd never met her, known that she refused to see him. It 
hurt, he'd never really been rejected before. He had one photograph of her, 
taken when she was ten. She was a cute girl with a cheery, playful 
expression. Darien had wanted to meet her, not only because he loved little 
girls, but because her face was a mask of perfect innocence. Her eyes had no 
knowledge of the horrors of the real world. It was if she lived in a 
fantasy, where all things were good and noble. But now. Now, Usagi was no 
longer a little girl. Why, she must be at least seventeen, may