Notes: This takes place about six or seven months after Tenchi Forever.  This one's for Jay, who helped me understand Tenchi's nature.  Thanks.

 

tomaru [stay]

by the Space Pirate Ryoko

 

 

"That's much better, Ryoko!"  Ayeka smiles across the table, her eyes on the flower in my hands.  It's not good, but at least it's not like the crumpled paper balls that were my previous attempts.

 

Sometimes I think I understand what everyone sees in her.  She smiles as we fold paper into lanterns and cranes, boats and animals.  Her fingers aren't clumsy.  They move over the colorful paper, creasing with confidence, tucking with finesse.  Her grace is second nature in this familiar task--she laughs gently as she shows him the proper way to embellish an origami lantern.  I hardly believed it when she said that origami was a popular Jurian art form, but a quickly executed paper tiger put the doubts to rest permanantly.

 

I fumble with the paper iris I'm working on, unfolding to start over and ending with over-creased paper that only vaguely resembles a flower.  I decide that it's as good as it's going to get.  I curl the edges with a pencil, eyeing the princess from the other end of the table.

 

She leans over him, guiding his fingers across the thin paper as she explains the fancy names for each kind of fold and crease.  The pale light from the overhead lamp makes them both golden.  His hair matches hers--both gleaming like dark fire in the glow of the light. 

 

Since coming back from Haruna's world, she's been quiet, peaceful.  She seems content with life now, happy to live in the close domesticity of Tenchi's home.  Happy with the small attentions he affords her.  Talk of going back to Jurai has ceased, as though Ayeka has no reason to return to her old life as royal heir.

 

Tenchi must have noticed that.

 

Ayeka looks at the clock, her eyes widening as she registers the late hour.  "Is it two o'clock already?" she gasps.  I stifle a yawn.  I've been watching the time all evening, anxious to end the tedious folding--I'd only agreed to help in order to ensure she wasn't alone with Tenchi.

 

"Guess it's time to go to bed," he agrees with a smile that takes my breath away.

 

Ayeka's not the only one who's different.  Tenchi grew up during those six months with Haruna.  Somehow the face that used to make me feel so protective now twists me into knots; the loss of innocence in his eyes that hurt so much when he was with Haruna now seems to offer amazing possibilities.  His behavior is the same as always--he's still casual, relaxed Tenchi, but some seriousness in his expression never lets me forget that this isn't the same boy I used to cling to.

 

He gathers up the leftover paper, stacking the vivid colors against each other to put them into a drawer until morning.  Realizing I've been staring, I glance down at the four or five paper flowers on my end of the table.  They're shoddy and wilted and covered with ugly folds.  Ayeka doesn't seem to mind.  She carefully puts all the flowers and animals on a shelf out of the way.  Tomorrow we'll make more, until there's enough for every child that would come to the carnival tomorrow evening.  The Masaki shrine will have a booth this year; Tenchi wanted to be able to teach children traditional Japanese art.

 

He waits at the foot of the stairs, his eyes alight with some urgency.  I wonder what he's feeling.  He might be eager to get to bed, but he lacks all the low-lidded, sighing signs of sleep.

 

I'm still gathering up the crumpled pages that represent my early attempts at paper cranes when she walks to him.  I look up, imagining I can feel her desire to take his hand, to lean up to kiss him as he smiles down at her.  I know firsthand that irresistible spark of Tenchi's that makes a girl want to press so close that their bodies become like one and she knows just how he feels--or doesn't feel--about her. 

 

"You should just do it," she urges softly, evidently continuing a conversation I'd missed.

 

He runs a hand through his hair, his face flushing nervously. 

 

"Hey, hey, cut it out!" I protest, playfully stepping between them.  I don't like the look of these two, glowing like they share a secret.

 

"Ryoko!"  Ayeka scolds, but I'm glad to see that she doesn't step any closer to Tenchi.  I float up the stairs, waiting at the top as they walk up slowly, taking pains to keep their footsteps quiet.

 

"Well, goodnight Lord Tenchi, Ryoko," Ayeka says softly, turning away.

 

I turn down the hall in the opposite direction toward Tenchi's room and the steps to to the attic where I sleep.  "'Night Princess," I call softly.

 

"I forgot the lights!"  Tenchi hurries down the steps to switch off the lights, still glowing brightly from several rooms.  Before he goes, I notice a quick look exchanged with Ayeka.  That secret again.  I hold back a snarl as she nods slightly and hurries to her room.

 

Alone in the hallway, I feel an urge to run, to teleport away from them and from this house.  But leaving without a fight isn't my style.  I don't know what they're up to, but I know I don't like it.

 

I teleport into Tenchi's room and open the window, wondering how long I'll have to wait before he comes to bed.  A few minutes?  A few hours?  I know I'll never get to sleep if I don't know for sure.

 

I lean out as far as I can, ignoring the chilly midnight air and the starless sky as I trace my name on the dusty roof tiles.  There are several shingles already marked with the characters.  I've come here before, hoping Tenchi would one day look out and see my name and come to find me.  Ryoko, I trace again, blackening the tip of my finger with years of rooftop soot.

 

"Ryoko."

 

Tenchi.  He didn't go with her.  I realize that I'd been holding my breath, willing him to come straight to bed.  I let it out slowly, turning to face him. 

 

I try to laugh, hiding the my black-tipped finger behind my back.  I choke.  His face is so serious.  I can't hide from his eyes.

 

"I thought you might be doing something foolish."  I mean for it to sound like a joke, but fail.

 

He holds my gaze, shaking his head.  The doorway behind him is dark and empty.  He steps into the room, running his hand through his hair again.  He's nervous.  "Ryoko," he begins softly, "I'm glad you're here.  I think it's time we talk."

 

That serious tone, those eyes--no one says they need to talk unless it's bad.  My chest hurts.  He's going to tell me he loves her.  I'm sure of it.  Suddenly their secret makes sense and I feel sick inside.

 

"No Tenchi," I protest softly, "please don't."  I don't want to hear him say it out loud.  I don't think I could stay after something like that.  I want to keep this as it's always been--I realize that I've pushed him to choose only because I was sure he'd choose me.  "Can't we leave things alone for a while?"

 

He looks confused, then a almost angry.  "I don't think we can," he argues.  "Because of me we've left things alone for years, but now that I'm ready to talk it out, you don't want to?"

 

I look away from his face, out the window into the night.  I swallow hard, searching for my voice.  "Do you want me to leave, Tenchi?  To grab Ryo-oh-ki and fly off into space?"

 

"No."  His voice is quietly certain.

 

"Then let's not talk yet."

 

I leave.  I spend the rest of the night on the rafters, thinking about Tenchi and Ayeka.  There was a time when I wouldn't have thought it possible that he could prefer her, but since the Haruna episode, since we came so close to losing him forever, she'd changed.  It's not his fault--Tenchi can't help but see her gentleness, her poise.  But where does that leave me?

 

Why did he have to push it?  Why couldn't he keep quiet and let me realize slowly, dealing with them one day at a time instead of all at once?  I don't want to leave Earth.  My home is here.  With him.

 

Morning comes slowly--the grey of dawn is broken by the household stirring.  I can't remember the last time I'd seen the sunrise, so I slip out to the roof.

 

The air is still cool, spring clinging stubbornly to the first days of summer.  A tingle in the atmosphere makes me giddy as the first golden rays wash over me.  I feel pink and cleansed by sunlight, as though today has nothing to do with yesterday and everything to do with tomorrow.  The morning gives me strength.  I breathe deeply until I'm too hungry to avoid Sasami's kitchen smells.  I make up my mind to ignore Tenchi and pretend that nothing happened.  Hiding behind my resolve, I hurry down to breakfast.

 

The carnival is like every other festival of its kind.  I have trouble keeping my eyes off of Tenchi.  He looks so handsome in his blue and white shrine kimono, calling children and parents to the Masaki booth.  He and I have been switching off all evening--I feel like a Shinto shrine maiden in the flowing kimono pants.  I watch him gather customers with his warm smile, leading them back to where Ayeka and Sasami instruct the children in the art of carefully folded animals.  Each child drops a ten-yen coin into the collection jar, already grinning at Ayeka's cheerful voice.

 

Hungry and bored, I decide it's time to find some kind of diversion.  I buy a tiny box of fried octopus and weave my way through the crowd of bright kimono and laughing children.  The dark night is brightened by paper lanterns and glittering strings of lights, and the hollow wood sound of traditional pipe music fills the air.  I wander from booth to booth, eyeing trinkets and conteplating games until I come to the quiet, dim end of the carnival. 

 

A woman is running a stand all alone, selling ornamental masks.  Her booth is lit by candlelight--pretty but out of place in a festival like this.  I turn, ready to head back to Tenchi to see if he needs me for anything. 

 

"You long to shed your self, pretty one."  The old lady's voice stops me.  "My masks can make you into a Japanese princess."

 

Princess?  One word and the bottled emotions come bubbling out.  I'm caught.

 

The woman's masks are incredible, carved from scented wood and painted with delicate strokes.  I choose a pale female Noh theatre face--white like rice powder with narrow eyes and red, smiling lips.  She looks beautiful--coy.  I long to feel the way this mask looks, like she knows how to be perfectly happy.

 

The old lady makes clucking sounds of approval as I trace the smooth surface with my fingers.  Digging a handful of money from my pocket, I pay her and take the carefully-wrapped treasure away.

 

Ayeka meets me halfway back to the Masaki booth.  She falls into step beside me, her head bowed.  Quiet.

 

"So how are you doing tonight, Princess?"  I ask, trying to sound casual.  "Not out stealing yourself another boyfriend?"  Since those long months searching for Tenchi last summer, we've actually been friends more than rivals, but I'm not about to forgive her for sweetening up to Tenchi just to steal him out from under me.

 

She looks up, a startled expression on her face.  "Whatever are you talking about?" 

 

I'm not fooled.  "Forget the innocent act, Ayeka--we both know what you're up to.  I suppose you came out here to rub it in, huh?"  I have to fight to keep my voice steady.  "Well I hate to disappoint you, but frankly I don't care.  I already decided to give up on Tenchi weeks ago."

 

She sees through me--she always does.  Whirling to face me, her face is distorted into a mask of frustration and anger.  "Ryoko, you are so dense!  I came out here to help you and this is the thanks I get?  Fine!"  She spins on her heel and stalks back toward the Masaki booth.  "Don't come crying to me when you realize you blew it for good this time!" she calls back over her shoulder.

 

I cross my arms, watching her go.  Having her as a friend was overrated anyway.  Help me?  Ha!  I'd just as soon face Kagato again than trust any help offered by her royal highness. 

 

But I can't explain the ache in my chest as I watch her familiar figure disappear into the crowd before me.  Picking up my suddenly-heavy feet, I follow.

 

It's late when the music finally fades and the tents are tied closed for the night.  One by one, the lights blink out, and Nobiyuki leads the family in the long walk home.  Ayeka and Tenchi lag behind, talking quietly with their heads bowed close together.  I watch from above, choosing to stay out of the way for once.  Tenchi seems anxious, but Ayeka soothes him; I watch the knot of anxiety leave his face slowly, massaged away by her gentle coaxing. 

 

It hurts.  My delicate mask feels warm and important in my hands.  Shed yourself.  Maybe it's finally time to shake off the ties that bind me to this planet, to put on a new mask and seek out adventure until it becomes my true face.

 

"She wouldn't listen to me, Ayeka."  Tenchi's voice is faded but urgent as it drifts up to me.  "I think I'm doing this too quickly."

 

She smiles at him, her face bright in the darkness.  "You're crazy to try to talk to her, you know," she responds not unkindly, "but I think she'll listen if you're persistant.  Even Ryoko can't hide from you forever."  She reassures him softly, squeezing his arm lightly.

 

Feeling sick to my stomach, I wonder if I can't.  I teleport home.

 

Tenchi's room is dark, the shutters closed to the moonlight.  I open the window, looking up at the bright half-moon.  This is the last time I'll do this--the last time I'll sneak into Tenchi's room to feel close to him.  Ryoko.  Ryoko.  My name is scrawled on so many shingles.  I slip the mask over my face and lean out the window.

 

Stretching to reach an untouched tile, I carefully etch a new name into the dust.  My new face pushes against me as I trace the characters, masking my vision as my finger draws the name.  Tenchi.  It's his window, his roof, after all.

 

Laughter from the yard announces the family's arrival.  I stare out the window for a few more moments, not wanting to abandon my spot on the windowsill, not wanting to give up the calmness that comes with wearing the face of a princess.

 

I hear him behind me, sliding open the door but not moving as he watches me at the window, and I realize that I wanted him to find me there.  I don't speak, trying to be absolutely silent so I can hear him breathe.

 

"So this is where you ran away to."  His voice is unusually quiet.  He doesn't know what to say, I realize.  I can't help him.  I stare up at the moon.

 

I hear the door slide shut.  Footsteps.  I close my eyes and he's near me.

 

"Why the mask, Ryoko?" he asks softly.  He slips the wooden mask over my head and looks me in the eyes.  "You're not hiding from me, are you?"  His voice is gentle, almost teasing, but there's grim determiniation in his eyes.

 

Tears gather in my eyes.  He knows I'm leaving.

 

"You're not with Ayeka," I observe, not able to control the tremor in my voice.

 

"No," he says simply, the ghost of a smile crossing his features, "I'm not."

 

My heartbeat misses, thumping irregularly.  Something in his tone, in the way he says the simple words, makes me want to believe I've misunderstood.  I almost don't dare to feel the swelling hope, but I can't get away from it--It consumes me in the instant of his smile.

 

"I'm not with Ayeka," he repeats with significance, dropping my mask on the desk.  He reaches for my hands, bumping his fingers against mine before entwining them together.  He looks away quickly then back again, his eyes bright.  "I couldn't be, you know.  Not now."

 

"Not now?"  My voice is barely audible--I feel like the room is spinning and the moon is falling toward us.  So much time has passed and I've lost so much faith.  I can't believe he's looking at me like that, that our fingers are pressed together so intimately.

 

He shakes his head, smiling gently.  "My heart is full," he explains, pulling a hand free to reach out window.  "Ryoko," he whispers, tracing the characters already imprinted on the nearest shingle.  His hands shake as he adds new strokes in the dust.  Tenchi.  Both on the same shingle.

 

I can't move.  I can't breathe, can't think except to see and smell and hear Tenchi.  His skin is warm through the thin summer kimono.  His breath is hot against my face.    "I almost didn't have the nerve to tell you," he confesses gently, the ghost of a laugh shaking his hands.  "Ayeka coached me."

 

He cups my cheek with his hand and leans forward, his face centimeters from mine.  "Don't go anywhere," he whispers.  He bends close, brushing his mouth across mine.  "Please.  I want you to stay with me."

 

I can't think of anyplace that could be more natural.  Too choked to speak, I nod.

 

He kisses me again and we stand at the window for a long time, watching fireflies and listening to each other breathing.  I feel everything and nothing all at once, overwhelmed by the warm closeness, the security of his hands tangled with mine.  "Should we tell the others?" I ask.  I want the whole family to understand this feeling.

 

He shakes his head.  "Ayeka will tell them," he says, sliding his arms around me to hold me close.  "Tonight I just want you here."  His light flush is visible in the moonlight, and I feel giddy the same way.  "Tonight I need you to stay here with me."

 

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end