NationStates Jolt Archive

Tir Eselyn, Ravenspire
27 years ago

The foxgirl infant slept in her mother's arms, blissfully unaware of the conversation that was taking place around her. Her mother gently brushed curly locks of fine red hair away from the infant's forehead and eyes.

Her father's attention, on the other hand, was fixed on their visitor. He was a foxboy, but unlike most of the males of their race, he was not delicate even in appearance. Though his face remained somewhat androgynous, his body bore the tight, lean musculature of a dancer or sprinter. He was tall for a foxboy, too, taller even than the human average, which was practically unheard of. His eyes were the cool blue-green of a tranquil tropical sea, his hair formerly red, now shot through so heavily with white that only a few strands of the original color remained -- the only sign of age on what otherwise appeared to be a thirty-something. He was Jerel Kitsuki, a hero of the War of Independence a quarter-century previous, a living legend. He was here with a purpose.

"Are you certain?" the child's father said. He attempted to exchange a glance with his wife, who had so recently come from the hospital, but her eyes were fixed on her child. "There are stories... I mean, the purity of the blood..."

"I'd think you'd know better." Jerel's tone was not admonishing, not exactly, but the disappointment in it was clear. "That's an old myth, best left to the old days. Once we fought the humans because of it, but look what our people have accomplished together."

"Of course. I meant no disrespect. I only--"

"Your wife's father, I know. Don't worry. That which is human in her will only make her stronger. I'm certain that your daughter is the one."

The child's father nodded slowly, reluctantly. "If she can recover Kitsuki..."

"She can. But 'can' and 'must' are different. Your daughter has incredible potential. I'm certain she could become the head of the Clan, and the head of all Clans. But it will not be easy, and there are many other things she could become. She could be a physician, an artist, a historian, a teacher, a policeman, an entrepreneur. Whatever she chose, she would excel, if she were to dedicate herself to it. That's how great her potential is."

The girl's mother spoke, mildly jarring the father. Jerel showed no signs of even twitching; he gave the impression he'd known beforehand, and had been paying close attention even before she'd begun to speak. "What if she does? Become something else?"

Jerel shrugged. "Barring some unfortunate accident, she will succeed, and prosper. Somebody else will become Clan head and speak for Kitsuki. It is likely that Kitsuki will not be chosen to head the Clans. We will continue as we have been, these last decades. But she will probably be happy nevertheless."

"And if she tries...?"

Jerel was silent for a moment before replying, and when he spoke, his words were tangential to the question. "I have a certain reputation," he said slowly, shifting in his seat as though uncomfortable. "Some say I'm the best in the world. That's a load of crap, of course. I could name two dozen people better than me. But it's true, I am good." He gazed levelly at the girl's mother. "Part of my ability is judging others. I'm telling you honestly, I've never seen such potential before as I see in her. She's very nearly perfect." He took a deep breath, released it, and continued, "In short, she would surpass me. Eclipse me. But it would be a harder life, more challenging. It would be a slow process."

This time, the father was successful in exchanging glances with his wife. "You truly think she's capable of all that?"

"I wouldn't lie to you, old friend." His eyes twinkled merrily for a moment, before he sobered. "I guarantee it."

"If she could be the one to lead Kitsuki to its rebirth..."

The child's mother nodded, slowly, agonizingly. She didn't bother to hide her tears. "If so... then we must agree," she forced out.

Jerel nodded. "I'll return for the child three years from today," he announced simply. "...What are her names?"

"We hadn't assigned them yet," her father admitted. "But perhaps..." He trailed off, eyes glazing over slightly, deep in daydream.

Her mother continued gently brushing at the infant's hair. "Let's name her after a flower," she urged. "Something beautiful."

"What I teach her will not be very beautiful," Jerel warned.

"All the more reason she should have something of beauty within her," her mother replied. "I think... Momoko. The peach blossom's child."

"Then I choose Yuri," her father said. "The lily."

A symbol of purity, but also of mourning, Jerel thought. Neither of which is terribly reassuring for you, eh, Momoko-chan? Out loud, he said, "An excellent naming," gave a practiced, charming smile, and nodded.

The infant foxgirl slept on, dreamless, unaware that the first course of her destiny had been charted.

Do you want us to reply?

[OOC: Well, it's mostly narrative, going into the backstory of some of my characters. You can reply if you'd like, but keep in mind that it's set well in the past, and the principles in this thread aren't yet government figures.]

24 years ago

At the age of three, Yuri was sent to live with her 'uncle.' Her training was to begin in earnest. Jerel escorted her to the rail station, carrying for her the small bag that was her only luggage. She didn't understand the purpose behind the trip yet, of course, but she thought it very exciting, and she bounced restlessly about on the street, pointing to different things she saw and asking Jerel, in the language of the foxpeople, to explain them. He replied in the same language, giving their names and a short description of their purposes, handling the flood of questions with calm patience. Aboard the train, she stood on the seat and pressed her nose against the window, until Jerel sat her down again.

It turned out to be a long ride; over five hours. Yuri slept through much of it. Jerel awakened her as they neared their destination, and she sleepily followed him through the streets of the hamlet -- a surface community which seemingly existed only as a terminus for this particular rail line. The people here were all human, as far as she could see, but aside from a few curious glances, they ignored Jerel's presence. He had a small groundcar waiting, and he drove her further into the country, winding alongside of the mountain. Eventually the road ended, becoming nothing more than a dirt path, but he drove on, through a pass, and into a valley concealed within a ring of jagged mountains.

She gasped when she saw it. There were trees there, which must have been planted by men, but they grew as thick as any natural forest. A large lake glittered in the distance, and the silvery trail of a river ran from it into the forest. The north side of the valley was rolling plains with high grasses, while toward the east there was a hilly section, devolving into rocky badlands toward its furthest extent. In the middle of the valley was a large, palatial complex, with a handful of houses spread around it, and a stone wall closing it off from the rest of the valley. Perhaps most impressively of all, the entire valley was walled -- ringed around with a high metal barrier, with only a single gate allowing access from the road.

Jerel drove through the gate, and it closed itself behind them. Yuri would not leave the valley again for seven years.

OOC; I wondered if you were going to post this here. :P

The fox-guys and -girls await patiently to see if she can.

The fox-guys and -girls await patiently to see if she can.
OOC ... And this has relevance to the story how? This isn't some television broadcast, or anything like that. :?

Had to bump it somehow. :?

OOC; I wondered if you were going to post this here. :P

[OOC: Well, I might as well, ne?]

24 to 22 years ago

For the first two years, Momoko's training was mild; one had to be careful with children, even foxgirl children, because too rigorous a routine could actually damage them. Permanently, in some cases. Then, too, there was the attention span of the typical child. Momoko's training, therefore, began as simple exercise, and it took the form of play.

"Let's see how fast you can run from here to the gate, Momoko-chan." Sprinting. The reply was always the same: "Not bad. Let's see if you can do better tomorrow, okay?"

"Today we're going to play hide and seek, Momoko-chan. I'll give you five minutes to hide anywhere in the house, and then I'll try to find you." Stealth and concealment. When she was discovered, which happened very swiftly at first, Jerel would critique her: "You need to make sure your tail isn't sticking out. Picture how the shadow falls, and make sure your entire body is inside it. Try not to move; moving attracts attention. Keep calm, and try not to breathe too loudly."

"Do you know how to play hopscotch? No? Well..." Balance.

"Today we're going to play a mirror game. Watch me, and do what I do." General aerobics and flexibility exercises.

"This is a game called checkers. The rules of the game are simple..." Basic strategy.

"Here, Momoko-chan. See how many of the balls in this basket you can throw through that hoop from here." Coordination and accuracy.

She would spend, at first, an hour or two every day playing games with Jerel. Most of the rest of the day, she was free to do what she liked within the manor or the 'village' nearby. She had her own room in the manor, which, in addition to the usual furnishings, contained a bookshelf stocked with books, all at or just slightly above her reading level. There was a television set, although it got just a handful of channels: three children's educational channels, dealing with history, math and science, and languages (English, Japanese, and Kitsugo, respectively); a children's entertainment channel specializing in dramatic reproductions of Ravenspire folktales; and a sports channel dedicated primarily to carrying various martial competitions.

On the manor grounds, there was a play area: a complex web of pipes to crawl through, a sprawling jungle-gym, a rock-climbing wall, a sliding board, a swingset. Various balls, jumpropes, and suction-tipped darts and arrows were kept in a box nearby.

Whenever she was hungry, she could go to the manor's kitchen. Miss Nomura, whose title was head housekeeper, seemed to prefer staffing the kitchens; as often as not, she'd happened to just finish cooking something or other when Momoko arrived. And when she hadn't, there was always something available. Her diet consisted largely of rice, vegetables, fruits, cheese, fish, and fowl, with water, milk, or fruit juice to drink; red meat was a rare dish, and sugared desserts or caffeinated drinks almost nonexistent.

At a set time, she would return to her room, bathe -- she had an attached bathroom -- and climb into bed. Usually, Jerel would read to her before she drifted off to sleep.

The next day was always just a little bit more taxing than the one before it.

*mark* and *bump*

At the age of six, Yuri's training started becoming progressively less game-like and more regimented. A routine of exercise was established for her, light at first, but increasing a little each week. She was introduced to the manor's gymnasium, and learned the use of the balance beam, the parallel bars, the vaulting horse, and the suspended rings. In addition to acrobatic gymnastics, she was taught rhythmic gymnastics, with their emphasis on grace and presentation, for those qualities would be necessary if she was to become the head of Clan Kitsuki. A few weeks after her introduction to gymnastics, she began training in her first real martial art, aikido. It was gentle enough for a child to learn, yet still an effective means of defense, and it would provide a good base from which to build the more violent styles later.

In addition to the training of her body, Yuri received training for her mind. Tutors were brought in to teach her the complexities of languages, the events of history -- of her family, of her clan, of the Kin, and of Ravenspire -- the intricacies of math, the methods of science. She learned about the culture of the Kin, and human guests visited to teach her about human culture. She was given a computer, or rather it appeared in her room one day, and she began to learn its use. This added another entertainment option: a small library of strategy games, from chess to military simulations. Once she'd seen those, she began to learn something of military history as well, according to her own request. Her education was as rigorous as any provided by a school.

Yuri took to all of this quite well. Very little was made of that fact. She was expected to excel. She had the potential, after all, and, through Jerel, she had access to resources many children could only imagine. She had everything she needed.

And if, sometimes, she cried herself to sleep at night, nobody was the wiser.

20 years ago

During her seventh year, she was brought further from the manor, as Jerel began to take advantage of the carefully engineered terrain of the valley. She learned to swim in the frigid lake, and kept at it until she could cross the river at its swiftest-flowing point without flagging. Jerel would walk her through the forest afterward, each day pointing out a new plant or animal:

"Remember this moss. If you're hurt, and you can find some of this, press it against the wound as a bandage. It will help stem the bleeding and stop infection."

"The leaves of this plant are a stimulant. If you chew them while they're fresh, you'll experience a surge of energy. Hikers often use them. They taste very bitter, but they're effective. You can also dry them and steep them to make tea, but they lose a lot of their effectiveness that way."

"That's a red-bellied hummingbird. See how it can flap its wings fast enough to hover? It needs to drink a lot of nectar in order to maintain that energy. If you follow one of them long enough, it will lead you to flowers. You remember which flowers are edible, right?"

"Yellow yew. This type of wood is strong, yet springy. It's good for making primitive bows, and it also makes for a decent quarterstaff, and the wood is easy to work. You'll begin learning the use of the staff next week, so keep that in mind, in case you ever need to improvise one."

"This is a brown bear. They're usually good-natured, unless you startle or provoke them or threaten their cubs. They're very strong and tough. If you have to kill one in hand-to-hand, the best way is to go for the eyes, fast. And remember that they're faster than they look."

The forest and plains provided numerous lessons in stalking and being stalked -- further development of the skills she'd begun to master in the manor. She had a new game there, as well, to keep her occupied: Jerel had brought in a number of cats, and given them free run of the manor. Her task was to creep up on one each day and to catch it using her bare hands.

It took Yuri several days to successfully catch her first cat, whereupon she learned firsthand that Jerel had not had them declawed. That had been another lesson.

[ooc: Great read, bookmarking thread.]

19 years ago

Momoko's eighth year was spent in intensive cultural training. She was drilled in the arts and dances of the Kin, the rituals of the Kitsuki, and the traditions of foxgirl theater. Over half her waking hours were dedicated to the things some considered little more than hobbies. She was not expected to master all of them, of course; even Jerel's standards were not so impossibly high. But she was to become familiar with all, and proficient with a few. In so doing, she would come to better know her people.

January: Momoko struggled into a formal kimono for the first time. Then she was told that the sleeves didn't show properly, she hadn't chosen middle garments of colors which properly accentuated and complemented each other, the kimono didn't hang properly, the obi hadn't been tied properly, and her stance was anything but proper. She took it off and tried again. And again. And again. For a week. Then she was introduced to other formal clothing: gowns, tuxedos, ceremonial garb. There were shoes and accessories. Each time, the process repeated.

February: She applied her new aesthetic understanding of color in the study of flower arranging. This undertaking was made more difficult by the fact that flowers had meanings in and of themselves, in addition to their colors, so care needed to be taken to match not only the colors but also the flowers of choice. She discarded a forget-me-not from a bouquet in favor of a bunch of jasmine, and was chastised for forgetting this rule.

March: Momoko danced the shorilina, the frenetic celebratory dance of the Kin, for hours every day. When she was not dancing, she slept, because the dance, even at the beginner's level, was as intense as running a marathon. In between, she sometimes found time to eat.

April: She played the liuwanori, a wooden flutelike instrument whose tone was mellow and full, like an oboe's, and the wawaraliri, a mandolin-like instrument with nine strings. Each she practiced for five hours per day. At the beginning, her lips chapped, and her fingers bled, but that stopped toward the end of the month. Her playing remained mediocre.

May: Momoko began her study of the martial arts of the Kin with kitsudo, a soft style similar to the aikido and tai chi she'd been practicing. This she enjoyed more than any of the previous months, for she was on familiar ground. She was sorry to see the month pass.

June: She was introduced to the kitchen. The first week was spent in instruction; after that, she was left to her own to experiment, with her mentor, one of the manor's chefs, only pointing out mistakes when she'd made them. That month, she ate only what she had prepared herself. Since her mentor had high standards and found many of her earlier efforts unsatisfactory, she went hungry many nights, toward the beginning.

July: Momoko learned the principles of design and stitchery, and created a number of simple garments she was expected to wear throughout the rest of the year, except for those situations in which special clothing, such as a martial arts gi, would be required, and provided for her.

August: She studied the theater. Her coaches drilled her on expressing meaning without words, on interpreting body language, on falsifying emotions, on improving her memory for dialogue. At the end of each week, she performed a soliloquy from Shakespeare for Jerel, who then told her, in exacting detail, precisely why each one was not convincing, and how it might be improved.

September: In the dojo, Momoko was finally entrusted with a live weapon. Her training began with the sword -- the traditional art of kitsukenjutsu, the foxgirls' sword style. Her hands blistered again from hours spent gripping the swords' hilts, but her training continued nonetheless.

October: An entire month was spent in meditation. This was the worst so far: ten hours every day, with only short breaks, doing nothing but sitting still.

November: The tedium of meditation was followed by the even more tedious ritualism of the tea ceremony. Everything from selecting the cups and teapot to entering the room to brewing and pouring the tea to presenting the cup had a rule, and the rules were often exacting. A teacup misplaced by more than a centimeter could be interpreted as a dire insult, in some situations, so great care was necessary.

And in the twelvth month came the names. There were thousands to remember, and every day she was drilled on them, and the facts associated with them. Past High Queens of the Kin. Past heads of House Kitsuki, of Clan Kitsuki. The names of every relative in a vaguely influential position, from the Associate Vice-President of Kitsuki Technologies to the Under-Secretary to the Minister of Education. The names of the heads of the other houses of the other Great Clans, and the names of the heads of some of the more important houses of the lesser clans, and the names of those foxpeople who had achieved some importance in Ravenspire politics, in the business world, or in the entertainment field. There were always more names, and these, she had to master.

And then came her ninth year.

18 years ago

Amara -- for that was the name she had chosen for herself on her ninth birthday -- found the next year surprisingly restful. Instead of the intense focus on a specific area that had characterized the previous year, she was now charged with reviewing, integrating, and refining what she had already learned. New lessons continued, but no longer at the breakneck pace she had endured the earlier year. It was much simpler, except for one event.

Two-thirds of the way through the year, while sparring with Jerel -- Amara did that now, every night, and although she rarely managed to tag the foxboy, the fact was a reflection of her increasing skill -- she mentioned, "The rice tasted kind of funny tonight."

"Did it?" he asked, calmly blocking a high kick.

"Yeah. Not like it had gone bad or anything, just... strange. Was there some kind of new spice or something?" She evaded a punch, ducked in for the sweep, and got tagged on the shoulder by a kick for her eagerness.

"No. That taste was probably the poison."

"The what?"

His foot connected with her chin, and she found herself on her back, the ceiling spinning above her. "I've been exposing you to controlled doses of some poisons and drugs in order to build up an immunity." He frowned down at her. "And you let yourself get distracted in the middle of a fight. If this had been real, you'd be dead right now. Pay attention." He turned away as she sat up, rubbing her jaw. "That's it for tonight. Double your practice for the rest of the week, and do better next Monday."

Later that night, Amara approached Jerel again. "Why the poison?" she asked without preamble.

"Ah. Now you're starting to ask the right questions. The poison is because building up a resistance to common venoms will give you an advantage in being selected for CI/CT."

"CI/CT? But I couldn't possibly do that for at least seven years, and that's if--"

"Would you like to know your future, Amara-chan?"

Amara hesitated. "You've planned that far?"

"Further. Well?"

"...Yes."

"In the future, be careful what you ask for. You might get it." Jerel shook his head, sighing. "Very well. Amara, I think it is time that you attended a formal school. You will begin after your tenth birthday. You and I will be moving into an apartment near Sargard, since that is the best place in Ravenspire for experiencing a wide array of cultures and situations."

"I'm going to a real school?"

Jerel nodded. "You'll be starting out in high school. You might find parts of it boring, since you're quite advanced in some areas, but it's important that you interact with others socially. Also, living in the city will, as I've mentioned, open opportunities for you to experience... well, many things. You will take advantage of those opportunities. You will enroll in tier-one courses--"

"Advanced highest honors?"

"Those are the ones. You will receive a grade point average of at least 3.8. You will participate in at least three after-school activities of your choice. You will also continue your training with me. You will participate in at least three martial-arts tournaments per year, utilizing at least two different styles per year. In each of these, you will rank within the top twenty your first year, the top ten your second, the top five your third, and the top three your fourth. You will apply to the Black Academy in your fourth year."

"The Black Academy..."

Jerel nodded. "The accelerated group, to be precise. In order to accomplish this, you must rank within the top one-tenth of one percent of students within the nation, as well as amass an impressive extracurricular record. Once you're there--"

"What if I don't make it?"

He fell silent for a moment. "I'll get to that later," he said. "Once you're enrolled at the Black Academy, you will major in either Military Science, Information Science, or Disinformation Science."

"What if I want to major in Communications?"

He considered that, then nodded. "You may double-major in an additional field, if you wish to. I expect that you will maintain your grades, regardless. You will graduate with top honors and enroll in the CI/CT service with the elite espionage, infiltration, and assassination brigade."

"The foxgirl ninja?"

"Indeed. By the age of twenty-one, you will be a commissioned officer. That is your goal, and that is your deadline."

"Deadline?" Amara cocked her head. "What is all this?"

"You remember the current High Queen, correct?"

"Meiko Akizuki, of Clan Suzuki," Amara recited instantly. "Elected by the Great Clans 38 years ago."

"She was elected to a 50-year term."

Amara stared. "You're kidding." Jerel shook his head again. "But I couldn't be... I'm not even the head of a house!"

"The Kitsuki leadership tournament takes place in ten years. If you've done as I've said, you'll be a prime contender."

"But..." She stared speechlessly at him for a long minute, then asked, "Why me?"

"Because you can. You can be the best, if you work for it. And if you don't break in the honing." He sighed. "You asked earlier what would happen if you failed. Nothing. If you fail, or if you choose another path -- and you can do that at any time, I want to make that absolutely clear -- then your training with me is at an end. You will be free to make your own life. You possess the ability to do whatever you would like to, and to do it well. You also possess a great deal of money; you need never work, if you should choose not to. Even in Ravenspire, most people would envy the degree of choice you have. You are talented and independently wealthy. However, you have the potential for greatness. If you turn aside, or if you fail, then you will be less than you could be. Some people wouldn't consider that a bad thing, Amara. You'd almost certainly be happier. But you would not be what you could." He nodded solemnly in emphasis. "Think about that tonight, and let me know your answer."

Amara didn't sleep that night. In the morning, she sought out Jerel. "Where in Sargard will we live?" she asked.

They lived on Cherry Street, as it turned out, in a block that might have been taken wholesale from Kyoto, Japan. Jerel's "apartment" turned out to be a small house situated partway up a hill, with a small garden plot of its own and a grove of cherry trees partially masking it from the street, which was little more than a narrow walkway between the sprawling metropolis of Sargard below and the authentic Shinto temple complex that lay at the top of the hill.

At first, it was daunting. Her home was almost as isolated as it could possibly be, given the size of Sargard, but the streets of the city were another matter. She'd grown up in a remote valley where she'd met perhaps fifty people; now she was plunged into a city of twelve million and growing, a city where every street was literally a new culture, from the architecture to the food to the businesses. A city that catered to every possible legal desire a visitor might have, for a price... and very little was actually illegal, in Ravenspire.

Amara had precious little time to adapt to this strange new environment, however. She was thrust into another alien world: high school.

Surprisingly, her age was not much of an impediment. She was the youngest in her class, but there were many other exceptional students only a year or two older than she, and they were in classes of their own. Amara didn't even consider the matter of age, at the time. Instead, it was her reticence that became a problem. Unfamiliar with being around other children, and not knowing how to interact with them, she simply didn't, and withdrew.

This lasted for over two months. Jerel noted it, but said nothing. He had already told her what she was working toward; now she would have to prove herself. He waited.

In the end, it was not Amara who overcame that obstacle, but a classmate of hers, a delicate, unsmiling human boy with hair like spun gold and eyes deeper than the Atlantic. She had noted him, as she had her other classmates; she did so almost by instinct, after Jerel's constant stress on vigilance and awareness. He wore somber colors, usually black, and he rarely spoke except to answer a question. He was androgynous; until she'd heard him speak, she'd thought he was female. He kept to himself, but his grades were impeccable, so the teachers left him alone.

She was, therefore, rather surprised when he approached her during the lunch period one day, as she sat by herself in the corner of the room, near the window. "Hello," he said, his voice soft and very solemn. She stared at him, surprised, and he continued his introduction. "My name is Alaric Morgannan." He bowed to her, then, as deeply as if he were greeting a queen.

"Ah... Amara Kitsuki," she managed to squeak out.

He nodded and sat down opposite her. Without saying a word further, he proceeded to eat his lunch. After a few moments, she returned to her own meal.

By the end of that year, the little grove of cherry trees had become Amara's favorite place. This was an escape; if she tried, she could imagine that the city below, with its noise, bustle, and confusion, didn't exist, that it was just Amara and two dozen cherry trees and a soft blanket of grass and, maybe, at the outside, a small house and a temple on top of a hill.

In the spring, the trees would blossom, exploding in a gasp of pink for perhaps a week. Amara liked to lie back on the grass and look up into the sea of tranquil pink clouds. Beyond, there were brief glimpses of sky blue through the intertwined branches, or the puffy white of real clouds, but for the most part, it felt like the world was shrouded in pink, and she was floating above it.

The life of the cherry blossom is brief; the tree bursts into pink, and an eyeblink later the blossoms suicide, fluttering to the ground in a blizzard. If she lay still at the right time, on the right day, they would cover over her completely.

bb guns are the fox's best freind

OOC: One thing about posting anything on NS is that you always get an idiot or two randomly posting his verbal diarrhea whenever his Ritalin wears off.

OOC:- The post above is a self referal

[OOC: Bump to get this current thread on top of the 15 zillion ancient threads people have been bumping. :roll: ]

[OOC: Bump to get this current thread on top of the 15 zillion ancient threads people have been bumping. :roll: ]

[ooc: Yup. Annoying, isn't it?]

[OOC: Well, it's not the idea itself, it's more the sheer quantity. Makes it harder to follow the actual ongoing threads. :? ]

OOC:- The post above is a self referal
OOC; Whatever helps you sleep at night. :lol:

*bump*

"Hey," she said, sitting down.

Alaric glanced up, then returned to reading his book. The Art of War. "Hello, Amara."

"It's Mizumi now. Yesterday was my birthday." She shifted positions, sitting cross-legged on top of the bench.

"Oh? You should have told me earlier. I'd have done something."

"That's okay. I was kind of busy yesterday anyway." Sparring with Jerel had gone to an entirely new level lately, and yesterday had been the worst yet; after several hours of it, her muscles had felt like water, and she had more bruises on her body than unbruised flesh.

"Even so. What's your favorite dessert?"

"Eh? I don't know. ...Key liime pie, I guess."

Alaric nodded. "I'll make one for you for tomorrow, then." He paused. "I've been meaning to ask, but I was worried about offending someone: Why do you foxgirls change your names like that every year?"

"You're not worried about offending me?" Mizumi pouted.

"Not particularly. It's strange."

"Eh?"

"Never mind. Are you going to answer the question?"

Mizumi shrugged. "There's not much of an answer, I'm afraid. It's tradition. We're born with two names, then from a young age we start picking a new name on our birthday each year. When we reach majority, we choose the name that'll be ours for the rest of our life. Although these days, a few of us do change it, later, just like humans sometimes do."

"How'd it develop, though? And isn't it hard to keep them straight?"

"I don't know how it got started," Mizumi said, shrugging again. "Our history goes back a long time, but it not long enough to mention when that started. Some of us say it had something to do with the kitsune, and having separate names for the spirit world and the real world, but that's just myth."

"Or religion, depending on who you ask," Alaric pointed out.

"I guess. Anyway, they're not that hard to keep straight. You don't have trouble with humans and their middle names, do you? Or the ones who take a Western name to go with their Eastern name?"

Alaric frowned, thinking that over, then nodded slowly. "Not exactly a perfect analogy, but I see your point."

"Of course you do. Oh, hey, good book."

He smiled wryly. "I'm glad you approve of the classics."

"You read The Book of Five Rings yet?"

"Yes, but only in translation, I'm afraid. I'm attempting to learn Japanese now, but I'm some way from mastering the ancient kanji."

"You just have to try and outdo me, don't you?"

"Not at all. You're simply projecting again." Alaric flipped the page.

"Hey!" Mizumi smirked and tackled him off the bench.

"Oof."

"Serves you right."

"Have you considered going out for American football?"

"Freeform fighting, probably." She stood, offering him a hand up. "Tryouts for varsity are tomorrow. Want to come watch?"

Alaric looked flatly at her for a moment; then a grin cracked his face. "Wouldn't miss it. Who knows, I might even get to see you receive a lesson in humility."

"Yeah, right. I'm probably better than the coach."

Alaric chuckled and, reaching up, took her hand.

[OOC: Bump 'cause I ran out of time to actually post. Go me.]

"The purpose of this exercise," Matsudaira-sensei explained, "is to allow me to determine your level of skill. Once I know that, I'll know where to place you on the team." He began reciting a list of cautions regarding the sparring match.

Mizumi didn't really listen, mainly because the boy next to her turned to her and whispered, "I hear this part is really tough. Matsudaira-sensei is a judo champion, and a black belt in three martial arts. My older brother was on the team, and he said in his year, one of the students got his arm broken when he refused to yield."

Sakura doubted that, but she kept her doubts private. Mainly because Matsudaira-sensei was standing in front of them now. "Phillips, right?" he asked mildly.

"Y-yes, sensei!" he stuttered. "Aden Phillips."

"Well, Aden Phillips, you can go first. Since you appear to have more important things to do, I wouldn't want to keep you." A soft chorus of snickers and sympathetic winces met the coach's words, but it silenced itself before he looked away from Aden. The boy was trembling as he took his position and bowed.

That's a mistake, Mizumi thought. Showing weakness at a time like this, when it's not a ruse.

"Hajime!" Begin! The team's captain, a white-haired foxgirl in her third year at the Academy, served as the referee for the match, and gave the traditional command.

Aden surged forward, launching into a leaping kick. Another mistake. That's a flashy move, but it's no good against a skilled opponent who's watching you approach. The coach pivoted to the side and swept one arm upward, using Aden's own momentum to flip him head over heels. Aden managed to break his fall, barely, but before he could roll away, Matsudaira was pinning him with a 'four corners' hold. Aden struggled briefly, winced, and tapped the mat, indicating submission.

"Pathetic," Matsudaira said, standing up. "You'll need to do better than that if you want to participate in any matches this year. A month of double training sessions. Then I'll give you another chance." Aden clenched his jaw, but he was smart enough not to protest; he bowed and headed sullenly to the far corner. "You're next," Matsudaira said to Mizumi. "Kitsuki, right?"

"Mizumi Kitsuki, sensei" she said calmly, bowing. She approached the ring, took her position, and bowed again before slipping into her stance. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Alaric smile briefly at her.

"Hajime!" the white-haired foxgirl commanded.

Mizumi remained in her stance, as Matsudaira-sempai had. Seconds ticked by, and the onlooking students giggled nervously. Mizumi herself was perfectly calm.

Matsudaira raised an eyebrow. "Well, you've mastered posing." Mizumi didn't move. "Show me what you can do." Mizumi remained still. "You're not scared stiff?"

"No, sensei," she said quietly, and made no other move. One second passed. Two. Three. Four.

"Look, I'm not going to hurt y--"

Matsudaira had shifted his stance, just slightly.

THWACK

Mizumi had moved.

The students gaped, including Aden, including the white-haired foxgirl. Not including Alaric. He was just smiling.

Matsudaira-sensei hit the mat. He didn't move.

Alaric began to applaud.

"I... ippon," the captain murmured. A full point.

Mizumi bowed to the unconscious coach, and headed toward the far corner to wait.

[Bump again, just 'cause I can. 8) ]

[Bump again, just 'cause I can. 8) ]

The next day at lunch (which she was eating outside, on the roof, since it was a warm and sunny, summerlike day), the white-haired foxgirl sat down next to her. "Hi. Am I intruding?"

"Of course not, sempai."

"My name's Maki. Guess I didn't exactly introduce myself, yesterday. You sure I'm not intruding?"

Mizumi was silent for a moment, considering. It had been an innocuous dialogue at the surface level, but Maki's last response had sent a number of messages 'encoded' at the societal-protocol level. Her introduction, by personal name alone, indicated a desire to be considered an intimate friend. It was only slightly unusual for an upperclassman to invite a younger student to address him or her in such a way, but it was very unusual for an upperclassman who held a superior position in a shared club activity to do so. As the captain of the team, Maki had certain expectations to meet, and she in turn could expect the junior members to fulfill certain duties of their own. Respect was possibly the greatest of those duties, and by inviting such a casual form of address, Maki was voluntarily renouncing the most plain expression of that respect. There was also the issue of fairness to consider; special treatment accorded one junior member of a team could tear that team apart due to envy and hurt feelings.

On the other hand, it was also an honor to receive such an invitation, because it spoke of respect in the opposite direction. At least respect; sometimes more. There was also the point that refusing such an invitation could be interpreted, in many circumstances, as a rejection of the proferred friendship.

The repeated question was yet another matter; the first response could be taken as polite answer to a superior. The repetition of the question was a request for truthfulness. She owed that offer consideration.

"I'm sure," she said.

Maki smiled, quite enthusiastically. "That was amazing, what you did yesterday. People have beaten him before, but never so quickly. You waited until he'd dropped his guard just a little, and then you acted immediately."

Puzzled as to where the white-haired foxgirl was headed, Mizumi nodded slowly.

"But the best part was how you completely fooled him. You masked your skill so well, he thought you were a beginner. So did I. You're even doing it now. How'd you get so good at it?"

Years of practice. "It's sort of a habit."

"Well, you got him pretty good. I have to warn you, though, he was going a little easy on you. He always does, with the students."

"I know."

"Yeah, I guess you'd have seen that, if you're that good." Maki chuckled. "I'm just saying, don't expect it to be that easy next time."

"I won't. But there won't be a next time."

Stunned, Maki blinked. "What?"

"I've decided not to join the team. I'll find something else."

"What?" Maki repeated. Then, "Why? Is it because of that Aden boy?"

Sakura shook her head. "That's the least of it. I just don't think it's for me."

"Are you kidding? You're maybe the best I've ever seen! Okay, that's not saying much, but still. Ever since yesterday, I've been looking forward to our match."

Mizumi raised an eyebrow. "Our match?"

"Well, sure. Someone as good as you is going to want to be team captain, right? So we'd have a match for it."

"You can keep it. I don't really want to be captain."

"But that's not the point! It's not the position, it's the challenge! There are only a couple of people on the team who can give me a good match. C'mon, please?"

Mizumi sighed. "I'm not joining the team. But..."

"But?" Maki asked hopefully.

I know I'm going to regret this eventually. "I'm going to be entering the Sargard Invitationals over break. If you enter, there's a chance we might be matched against each other."

"Number one and number two, eh? Sounds good to me. Well, I really should be going. Thanks for the match! Bye!" She practically skipped away.

"But..." Too late; Maki was gone. Mizumi sighed. "Sometimes I hate being right."

OOC: Why not post all the ones you've already done instead of one every couple of days?

[OOC: Because this way, it spreads them out more while I finish writing the story, which means this gets bumped to the top every couple of days instead of once now and once later. I'm just an attention whore. 8) ]

OOC: Understandable. Come to think of it, I like it better this way because everyone else here is so behind. It gives me a warm, arrogant feeling. ^_^

17 years ago

As it turned out, Mizumi placed 19th in that tournament. Maki placed 16th. Jerel's reaction to this news was a curt nod and the comment, "Adequate. Do better next time."

This was the same response he gave to Mizumi's grade report at the end of the academic year. An unadjusted 3.9; well over 4.0 when the bonus score for course difficulty was figured in. But a bit short, naturally, of the theoretical maximum. "Adequate. Do better next time."

"The only way I could do better than that," Mizumi said sardonically, "would be to get perfect grades."

"Then strive for perfection," Jerel answered. "Some people may feel they can afford less. Do not make that mistake."

Mizumi sighed, and decided not to press the point.

16 years ago

The weather on the Twilight Coast was sometimes compared favorably to paradise, but that winter was an exception. Unusual cold set in weeks early, cutting short the autumn, and plunging the coast into an abnormally chill winter and a late spring. Several daily-low-temperature records were set that year, and on one occasion Sargard even received measurable snowfall, a thing which had not happened for thirty years.

It was toward the end of that winter that Alaric came upon Mizumi in her grove of cherry trees. The snow had long since melted, of course, but the air remained cold enough for heavy jackets. The earth was mostly a mass of soft mud, and the bare branches of the cherry trees were skeletal against the quicksilver sky. Regardless of all this, Mizumi lay upon the ground beneath her favorite tree, looking up into the sky.

"Hi," she said without having looked. Sight was one sense; there were hearing and scent to tell her of Alaric's arrival, though he did move quite softly for a human. "You finally came."

"Hello." He continued to approach, until his head was within her field of vision. "I told you I would, didn't I?"

"But that was weeks ago. Months, even."

"A month. To the day, in fact." He dangled a brown cardstock box from a string above her. "I brought you a present, too."

"I guess I'll have to forgive you, then." Mizumi smiled. "What is it?"

"What else? Key lime pie."

"But it's not my birthday yet..." She paused, sitting up as another thought struck her. "Aren't limes hard to get, this time of year? With this weather?"

He avoided answering that question, instead replying to her first statement. "I know, but I can't be here for your actual birthday. There's a wedding." He sighed, but smiled. "Since today is the last day we both have free before then, I thought I'd bring it early. What will your name be this time, by the way?"

"Well, thanks," Mizumi said, leaning back against her tree. "I haven't really decided yet. Maybe I'll just keep Mizumi this time. It's not a bad name."

"And you've acquired a reputation at other academies after you sucker-punched that coach."

"That too. You could phrase that so it sounds better, you know."

Alaric laughed. "I'm not that diplomatic. It was a nice shot, though."

"Technically, it was a nice kick." Mizumi smirked.

"Which is appropriate. I heard he laughed about it once he'd recovered enough to."

"And that's appropriate because? Oh, no, don't tell me..."

"He got a kick out of it," they said in unison. Mizumi groaned. "That was horrible."

"I learned from the best."

Mizumi chuckled. "Do as I say, not as I do."

"I'll keep that in mind in the future."

"You do that. Ne, speaking of the future..." She trailed off, trying to frame the question she wanted to ask. Or even to find the question she wanted to ask.

"Yes?" he prompted after a few seconds of silence.

The easy grin returned. "Never mind, it's not important."

14 years ago

At the age of 14, Mizumi graduated with top honors. Following the ceremony, Alaric once again found her in her grove, lying beneath a tree and staring up into the sky. This time, however, the season was autumn, and the branches were not yet bare. The bright golden sun, still bearing hints of the past summer's heat, slowly sunk toward the horizon.

He sat beside her. "I thought you'd be here." She said nothing. "Why did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Place third in our class. You could have been valedictorian, if you'd wanted to."

"I didn't want to." She closed her eyes. "Or salutatorian. I hate speeches."

"You're not bad at giving them."

"I didn't say I was bad," she retorted with an exasperated smile, "I said I hated them. Anyway, you did a good job. Said all the right things, and so on. If it were me, I'd probably have started out with 'You could be dead tomorrow,' or something."

He raised an eyebrow at her -- a wasted gesture, since her eyes were still shut. "All right. We won't talk about it, then. So. Off to the Black Academy, are you?"

"Yeah. It'll probably be a pain, but at least they've got better uniforms than the Agathian Academy."

He couldn't help chuckling about that. "Still upset about that yearbook photo?"

"I can't believe they took that."

"I never thought of you as the yo-yo type."

She opened her eyes, and cast him a dirty look. "I told you, I was practicing my improvised-weapons training."

"In the cutest possible manner."

Mizumi glared for a moment longer, then suddenly laughed. "I give up. So what're you going to do? Go into engineering somewhere?"

"No. Actually, I thought I'd go with you."

She blinked. "Come again?"

Smiling, he produced an official-looking letter. The envelope was marked with a seal she immediately recognized from her own recent experience. "The Black Academy! You applied? When? Why? I thought you were a pacifist."

"Oh, no. I just prefer not to fight," Alaric said. "Anyway, it's somewhat traditional." He shrugged, adding, "I may go into the Spacy. You're aiming toward CI/CT, I take it?"

"The ninja, yes."

"You'll get there. Easily."

"Thanks, Al. But I already knew that." She grinned up at him. "I am the best, after all."

"You have the biggest ego, at any rate." He sobered. "Just be careful, would you? The regimen isn't exactly easy, and you could get yourself hurt if you're not."

"I know what the regimen is like." You should see what I've gone through for the last eight years. "But thanks for worrying. You're a good friend."

She sat up and, as one, they turned to watch the sunset.

http://schimmel.sandwich.net/Foxgirl3.jpg

Sakura (then Mizumi) Kitsuki, age 14 -- that yearbook photo

Bump

She had thought her training regimen had been difficult before, but since her acceptance to the Black Academy, it had grown twice as strenuous. The courses themselves, the instruction under Jerel, the social functions and club memberships she was expected to maintain -- all consumed more of her time than they had during her time at Agathian. Mizumi refused to complain, tackling each new obligation with singleminded will.

She continued to meet with Alaric when she could, which was not often, for he was as busy as she. A shared lunch, an evening once in a great while. She explored Tir Eselyn when she could, and stayed in the library or the dojo or the small apartment into which she'd moved when she was too busy. The year rolled slowly past, taking its near-record heat. Slowly, once more, Mizumi began to brood.

"What's troubling you?" Jerel asked bluntly, during one of their evening training sessions. They'd progressed to using live steel, or at least Mizumi had; the exercise ended when she was able to score three hits. Sometimes, even now, this took her hours. Jerel wielded his wooden practice blade almost negligently, concentrating on defense, though he didn't hesitate to deal out a bruise if he caught her leaving openings.

"Nothing," she said automatically, parrying and attempting to bind his blade.

Jerel quickly backed away, out of the bind. "Something. You're off tonight." No response. "A boy?"

"...Maybe," she said, as though that had just occurred to her. Possibly it had; she wasn't sure herself.

"Ah. About time. I expected this a bit earlier."

"You did?" She grimaced as a clumsy slash was turned aside, but she managed to redeem herself by recovering her blade in time to block the wooden sword. That would have been painful.

"As hard as it may be to believe, I was young once myself," he said, with a wry smile. "And I approve."

"You do?"

"Within reason," he amended. "I think it's quite a good thing, so long as you maintain your other work at its current high level." His blade slapped against hers, followed by a feinted thrust; she didn't fall for it. "So long as you remember your responsibilities."

"I know."

Jerel chuckled. "You don't. But in time you will."

This time it was her turn to avoid a bind. She raised an eyebrow. "Glad to know I can still have a social life, anyway. Not that I'm really planning to," she quickly added, beating aside another thrust, "but somehow I thought you'd be opposed to the idea."

"Not at all. You should be aware that sex is a tool, in your chosen profession. You should be as comfortable with it as with any of your other tools, and you should rely upon it no more than you would any of your other tools. Constant vigilance, Mizumi." Jerel barely ducked one of her cuts. "In fact, I encourage you to take at least one boyfriend and one girlfriend before you enroll with CI/CT."

"Girlfriend?" Mizumi's other eyebrow joined the first.

"Please. That should hardly shock you."

"I just never thought about that before."

Jerel smirked. "One of the basic lessons: Consider the possibilities. Now, I'd prefer you waited until you were of age before, shall we say, consummating any of those relationships--"

"I wasn't going to do anything."

"--But you could certainly pass the self-sufficiency test and claim adult status by tradition," Jerel concluded. "If, of course, you were to insist. You've done quite well, Mizumi." He paused, adding as an afterthought, "One thing, though. I'm sure you don't need the warning, but... don't get pregnant."

"I wasn't going to do anything!" She parried twice quickly, then scored a shallow cut across Jerel's knee.

"Good. You didn't lose control by giving in to anger. And that's three," he said, satisfaction plain in his voice. "We'll continue tomorrow night. In the meantime..." He directed a piercing look toward her. "Remember that you're always free to live your own life. But also remember what I've said."

"I don't think anyone could forget that." -.-

"You'd be surprised. Now go jog a mile or so to cool down, and then you can finish your coursework for tomorrow afternoon." He turned away, paused, and looked back over his shoulder. "And you might try the Tir Eselyn Light Opera Company. They're performing The Mikado for the next three weeks. Both of you should enjoy it." With that, he departed.

Both of us, huh? Mizumi shook her head, and set off on her jog. ...What the hell just happened?

Nice, an intersting read. You do that image your self?

OOC: No, he managed to find it somewhere. Which is amazing because it's so hard to find good foxgirl pics. :P

Well who ever drew it has talent.

OOC: Yes. I only wish I could draw that well.

Unfortunately, I found it long ago, and didn't keep records, and I haven't been able to find it again. Otherwise, I'd credit the artist. I assume the webpage it was hosted on was taken down, or some such...

Such is the way of the internet, update regualy or fade in to nothing.

"...so I have an extra ticket, and I thought maybe you'd like to go. They're doing The Mikado."

He looked across at her, almost expressionlessly, and she was struck by a sense of nostalgia. She remembered with vivid clarity an unsmiling boy with piercing eyes. He'd become a beautiful, androgynous young man, but those eyes were still the same.

"Yes, I'd enjoy that," Alaric said finally. "And no..." He looked away. "I cannot be your boyfriend."

Her heart sank. "Wh-what?" was all she could stammer.

"You've never had any interest in operettas before, Mizumi. And... well, never mind. I enjoy your company, and I'm happy if you're taking more of an interest in culture, but I can't date you, or anyone else. I'm sorry."

"Or anyone... why not?"

Alaric frowned slightly before his face slipped back into impassivity. "I can't tell you that. It... has to do with my family." He looked back at her, suddenly, and it was her turn to turn away. "If I could, then I would."

"Oh." Her voice sounded brittle, in her ears. "An arranged marriage, or something?"

"Something like that," he agreed after a minute.

"Oh. Well. Then... I guess..." She shook her head. "I'd better go."

"I'm sorry," he murmured again. But he made no move to stop her, and she turned and fled. "One day..." But she was already too far away to hear.

Jerel was away when she got home, and he didn't return that night; it was unusual, but in her state, she barely gave it a second thought. She went to sleep early, refusing to cry.

The following day was chill and rainy, with heavy leaden skies. The clouds were holographic, of course, and the rain fell from sprinklers; Tir Eselyn was a subterranean city. Still, it made her wonder at the timing.

She'd stepped into the bank, and was reluctantly working up to setting out in the downpour again, when she was nearly bowled over by another customer rushing inside. "Hey! Watch..." She blinked, surprised. "...Maki?"

"Mizumi! You're here?" The white-haired foxgirl smiled slyly. "So I guess you got into the Black Academy after all. I hope you told them I taught you everything you know."

"I did," Mizumi deadpanned. "They said that explained why I was so far behind. But, Maki, why are you here? You didn't change your mind and transfer into Black...?"

Maki shook her head. "Nope. I'm not really interested in that military stuff. I'm just in for the tournament." Off Mizumi's blank look, she continued, "Rosewood Invitational?"

"Oh, shit. I meant to enter that one, and I never got around to registering."

"Too late now. That's too bad, though. I was looking forward to fighting you again."

Mizumi sighed. "It's about on-par for my week so far."

"It's Tuesday."

"Exactly."

"Ouch. You want to talk about it over lunch?"

"Sounds good," Mizumi said. "But didn't you have business here?"

"It can wait."

http://forums.relicnews.com/images/smiley/bump.gif So I don't have to dig for it.
http://forums.relicnews.com/images/smiley/bricks.gif

Sitting in a corner of a cafe near a window, Mizumi explained the previous day's events to Maki in between bites of spicy chicken kebab, white rice, pita bread, and salad. The white-haired foxgirl was a good listener, interjecting sympathetic murmurs at the appropriate junctures. She stared thoughtfully into her glass of water as Mizumi concluded.

"Geez, that's rough." She scowled. "What's his problem, anyway?"

"I don't know." Mizumi pushed her plate away and directed her gaze out the window. It was still raining, but not as hard as it had been. She thought it wasn't as hard, anyway. "I'm positive he wasn't lying, though."

"You sure? It sounds like a cheap excuse to me."

"Pretty sure. He's never lied to me before."

"Huh." Maki rested her chin on her free hand, looking at Mizumi. "That's odd, then. You sure he doesn't already have a girlfriend? Or boyfriend, maybe?"

Mizumi shrugged. "If he does, it's the best-kept secret on the planet. I mean, he mentioned 'something like' an arranged marriage, but I don't think that's what he meant. He would have told me."

"How do you know?"

"We've known each other for a long time, mostly thanks to him. He'd have invited me by now, if that were the case."

"Maybe he can't?" Maki asked.

Shaking her head, Mizumi responded, "Maybe, but there's really nothing to suggest that, and I can't imagine a reason why not that Al would go along with."

"Maybe you finally annoyed him," Maki suggested with a wicked grin.

"I'm not even sure that's possible. He's the most centered person I know, other than myself."

The grin widened. "Yeah, when I think Zen-like calm, you're the first person who comes to mind."

"Oh, shut up."

"See?"

Exasperated, Mizumi shook her head. "Anyway, that was a bust. And now I'm stuck with two tickets to something I'm not particularly interested in in the first place."

"That's why you should invite before you buy tickets. You should go anyway, though."

"I don't know." Mizumi chuckled. "I've never been that fond of opera, even if Sensei thinks I'd enjoy this one. Mikado."

Maki practically shrieked. "Gilbert and Sullivan? That's not opera, 'Zumi, that's operetta. It's... something like a Broadway musical. And it's been sold out for weeks! How did you manage to get tickets? No, never mind. It's settled, though: You have to go. That's final."

Mizumi's eyes had grown wider with each passing moment as Maki enthused over the show. "You're... a fan,... are you?" she managed.

"Yes! And just think, the Tir Eselyn Light Opera, that's one of the best companies in all of Ravenspire. You're so lucky! Their tenor, John Lucard, is--" She cut herself off mid-review, finally registering the look Mizumi was giving her. "...What? You thought I was only interested in martial arts?"

"Well, it was all you ever talked about, practically," Mizumi answered weakly.

"Hm... well, you might have a point. But there weren't any really good productions in Sargard while we were in school, I guess. It just never came up."

"Well," Mizumi shrugged, "do you want to go, then?"

Maki stared in shock for a moment before breaking into a broad smile, eyes sparkling. Mizumi almost thought she'd lunge across the table to hug her. "Yes!" She swiftly added, with a touch of guilt, "Are you sure it's okay?"

"Yeah." She's really pretty when she smiles, a corner of Mizumi's mind noted. Suddenly embarrassed, she looked away, back toward the window. "It'd just be wasted, otherwise." Had the thought crossed her mind because of what Jerel had said a few days earlier, or had it been her own? And was there any way to tell, now that she'd thought to question it? She'd never thought about that before... had she?

"Great!" Maki said, still beaming in absolute rapture. "Meet me... oh... outside that bank, at 5. Dinner's on me. Then we can head to the theater. Oh, you're going to love this!"

Well, one of us is, anyway, Mizumi thought. Well, as long as she's happy. ...Wait, do I want to make her happy because we're friends, or... argh!

The foxgirls left the theater arm in arm, and laughing, and attempting to sing despite their laughter.

"Behold the Lord High Executioner, a nobleman of worthy rank and title! A dignified and potent officer, whose functions are particularly vital!" Maki was performing better of the two, being not only very nearly on-key but also not laughing quite as hard as her friend.

"Defer! Defer! To the Lord High Executioner!" Mizumi chorused.

The pair ignored the odd looks directed their way as they scurried along the street mangling a song. They next worked their way through "Three Little Girls From School Are We" before Mizumi finally returned to normal conversation.

"You were right," she admitted. "It was great."

"Told you so. You should see The Sorcerer some time, too. And Pirates of Penzance. And then maybe Into the Woods... well, almost anything by Sondheim, really. He's a genius with lyrics."

"Heh. Maybe I will, if I can manage to find some free time. I don't remember how long it's been since my last day off."

Maki clucked sympathetically. "Black's working you that hard, eh?"

"Black, plus Jerel-sensei."

"Gah. How do you put up with it?"

Mizumi shrugged. "I guess I'm just used to it."

"Well, I don't know why you'd do that to yourself, but you must have your reasons. Good luck with whatever it is." She grinned. "I'm sure you can handle it, if it's that important."

"It is."

"Right. Well..." Maki drew to a halt in front of a hotel. "This is my stop. Thanks again for the invitation. I really owe you one."

"I'll walk you up," Mizumi offered. Maki shrugged and entered the building, holding the door for her. "It's good to see you again."

"Same here."

They rode the elevator in near-silence. Maki quietly hummed a theme Mizumi recognized from The Mikado, but she couldn't place a name to it. We cannot hear; there is no sound, for joy rings everywhere around... That was it. What was its name...?

They disembarked and Maki led her left. "I'm in 1369," she explained. Mizumi nodded and trailed along, suddenly very interested in the carpet design. They were nearly there. She had to say something. Right? "...And here we are. Thanks again for everything," Maki said, fishing in her pocket for the key card.

Mizumi was out of time, but she still couldn't bring herself to say anything. She tried to think of something clever or poignant, but she found herself watching with mute rapture Maki's grace even in performing such an awkward task. It was just like in the restaurant, where she'd stared so long at the simple movement of Maki raising her chopsticks from her plate to her lips, then lowering them again, that Maki had finally noticed and asked what was wrong, and Mizumi had had to stammer some stupid excuse about trying to remember whether she'd finished all her errands. It was a wonder Maki hadn't seen straight through that. And now she'd found her card and unlocked the door and Mizumi still hadn't thought of anything to say but... "Wait," she squeaked.

An inquisitive expression on her face, Maki turned around in the doorway.

"Um..." Stop blushing, stop blushing, stop blushing... "Would you... mind... if..." She suppressed an urge to scream. "Er, can I staywithyoutonight?"

Maki blinked. And stared. And blinked some more. Her keycard fell from slack fingers.

"Um..."

Shaking her head fiercely, Maki commented, "That was unexpected." She frowned slightly. "Look, no offense, I just want to be sure I'm not making one of those huge and embarrassing mistakes... did you just proposition me?"

"Um..." Maybe she could sink into the floor, if she tried hard enough?

"Oh boy." Maki forced a smile. "'Zumi, I'm flattered, but this is what we call a rebound--"

"No, it's not like that! Really." Mizumi chewed on her lip. Maki favored her with a skeptical stare. "Please," she practically whispered.

Maki maintained the Look for a few more seconds before turning her eyes away. "Damn. I don't..." she murmured. Then she looked back at Mizumi with something approaching resignation. "I don't think it's a good idea, but I do owe you. Come in. At least we can talk through this." She took a step back, holding the door open.

Mizumi smiled and shuddered, simultaneously.

Bump

Her fingers stroked gently, tentatively, through Maki's hair as though each strand were made of porcelain. Subtle pressure invited the other girl's head to tip, parting her lips slightly, and Mizumi moved hesitantly closer, leaning in to cover them with her own. Her eyes closed. They barely brushed, and it tickled, like a mild electrical charge running between them. Her arms tightened around Maki's shoulders, and the other girl moved still closer. She felt her tongue trace her lips.

Mizumi's eyes snapped wide open and she pulled away, gasping.

"'Zumi?" Maki's hand rested on her shoulder; her voice, concerned, supportive.

Mizumi couldn't look at her. "I'm-- sorry. I just..." Her throat seemed hideously consticted; it was difficult to force the words out. The first tear spilled from her eye, running down her cheek. "I can't."

Maki squeezed her shoulder, comforting. "I know," she said quietly.

"You... do?"

"I told you before, but you weren't listening. Sometimes you just have to see for yourself, I guess. 'Sokay."

Mizumi sighed. "I feel so stupid."

"Nah. Just heartbroken. Happens. 'Zumi, you're, what, fourteen? Be patient. You're young; you'll learn."

Mizumi chuckled quietly at that. "And you're such an old lady. You've got less than two years on me, Maki."

"See? You're already learning." Maki smirked. "But seriously. Stop trying to rush things. You need time to figure yourself out."

"How much time?"

"Dunno. Ask me again in about fifty years, and I'll tell you whether I've got it yet."

"...uh huh."

Mizumi snapped awake as a hand touched her shoulder. Her hands swept up to protect her neck and vitals, respectively, throwing the silk sheets off her in the process, freeing her movements.

"Morning, 'Zumi. Breakfast?" If Maki was at all surprised by Mizumi's reaction, she hid it well.

"Eh?" Mizumi idly noted the scent of grilled fish and steamed rice. "...You ordered room service? It's less expensive to go outside."

Maki shrugged. "Not that much less. You're looking better. Are you feeling better, too?"

"Yeah." The talk they'd shared last night seemed to have helped, to Mizumi's surprise.

The sleep had, too, probably; she'd planned to leave, but Maki wouldn't hear of it. "It's well after midnight," she'd pointed out. "You can stay. We are still friends, right?"

Of course we are, Mizumi had thought.

"Good. So, eat then. I hope you don't mind Japanese-style breakfast; I'm kind of used to it."

Mizumi shrugged, smiling. "I'm always up for fish. Um, listen, about... er. I mean..."

"You're welcome. Now eat." Maki thrust a pair of chopsticks toward her.

"Mmm." She obediently scooped some rice into a bowl. "I'll have to talk to Al, too," she said, her disposition clouding.

"I'm telling you, slap him. It's therapeutic," Maki joked.

"Heh. I don't think so, this time. I'm not sure what to say, though. How do I approach it?"

Maki swallowed one of the fish and shook her head. "I don't know if you need to, yet. If this guy's really like you say--" The skepticism in her voice was clear. "--Then you should be able to just carry on."

"Maybe, but it'll still be weird."

Maki shrugged. "Then talk about the show. You liked it, he's interested in it, it should be easy. And it's a safe topic. You can always approach him later about the other thing, if you figure out how to."

Mizumi nodded thoughtfully. "You know, you may be right..."

She was.

.:Bump:.

It's a good read. Ravenspire, looking forward to next update.

(OOC: Thanks. It's likely to be even slower, now I'm back at university, though...)

13 years ago

On her fifteenth birthday, she took the name Alia, and within a month had grown tired of it. Nothing else seemed to change; the days passed in a blur of studying and training, with only the occasional visit with Alaric or the even rarer visit from Mika to break the monotony. Somehow, she had managed to settle into a routine. It might have happened because the exertion of that studying and training left little time for anything else. Or it might not. But later, looking back, she would see little to distinguish one date from another, in the course of that year.

Until her sixteenth birthday approached. One night, following her daily training and sparring session, Jerel informed her, "I've written you a note. You're to take it to your instructors tomorrow." She raised an eyebrow, and waited. With a faint smile, he continued, "You're excused from classes next week. Training, too."

"What?" She had missed a day here or there, in the past, of course, but this was unheard of. And for Jerel to be the one suggesting it... "Why?"

"Your coming of age. You'll be an adult on your birthday. I want you to go to Sargard. You can stay at the house. Or not, if you'd rather." He held up a metallic-violet plastic card between his index and middle fingers. "There are ten thousand ploinks on this card. It's yours." He tossed it to her with a flick of the wrist, and she caught it without thinking, still numb with surprise. "Of course, you'll be able to access your own fortune, on your birthday, so that makes that card look almost insignificant."

"Wait a minute," she pleaded. "Why am I going back to Sargard? What do you want me to do there?"

"Whatever you want, of course," Jerel said, as though it were obvious. "Happy birthday."

"But--"

"Listen, Alia," he interrupted. "You're getting close to graduating from the Black Academy. You've done very well. But there's still a decision you have to make, and you have to make it alone. It wouldn't be fair to expect you to make it right now. So go. Go to Sargard, and enjoy yourself in whatever way you like. After your birthday, spend a week just living. And then, if you want to, return here. If you don't, I'll see you get your degree; they still owe me a favor or two, and nobody could doubt the quality of your work. No one will blame you if you want to take that route. It's entirely up to you. Go."

Slowly, she nodded. "I'll just need to pack a few things first. I'll leave tomorrow after class."

"Good. That's probably best."

"I'll see you in a week or so."

Jerel smiled. "We'll see."

(Stupid glitches.)

12 years ago

On her sixteenth birthday, she lay beneath the cherry tree that had been her favorite, years earlier. It hadn't changed much; perhaps a little taller, its branches a little greater in their spread, its explosion of pale pink petals a little thicker. The weather was good, as the weather often was in Sargard; warm, sunny, with traceries of puffy white cloud drifting slowly across the sky. There was a light ocean breeze, upon which skirls of falling petals danced briefly. She lay still, recalling the feeling of floating. A petal landed on her forehead; she didn't react. If she kept still long enough, they could cover her completely...

"Hello," she said quietly, still gazing up at the clouds, the white in the heavens and the pink on the trees. "I'm glad you came."

"Of course I came," Maki said, stepping out of the shadow of the next cherry tree uphill. "Didn't really expect you to pick me to witness, though. That's a bit of a kick. How come?"

She twitched a shoulder. "'Three little girls from school are we.'"

"Good memory." The white-haired foxgirl smirked. "Except just two, in this case. Although, come to think of it..." She held up one hand, a brown box wrapped in string balanced on her fingers. "Looks like someone else was thinking of you, at least. This was on your doorstep."

Her eyes widened, and she started to laugh. "I don't believe it..."

"What is it?"

"Key lime pie, unless I miss my guess," she said, sitting up. "But how did he know?"

Bemused, Maki smiled. "Who? Wait, you've lost me, here."

"It's gotta be from Al. He's done this every year since... well, since I first came here, I guess. But I didn't tell him I was going to be here. I didn't even know myself until two days ago. How did he know to send it here?"

Maki looked at her for a long minute, then at the box. "Okay," she said, "I'm starting to believe everything you've told me about this guy."

"Told you so."

"Yeah, yeah." Maki set down the box next to her and crouched in front of her. "So, are you ready?"

She nodded. "I just decided on a name this morning, once I got back to this place," she said.

"Well?"

The redhead grinned, shifting to a kneeling position. "Sakura."

"Cherry blossom?" Maki laughed, but quickly grew sober as she stood. "Well, then. Sakura Kitsuki of Clan Kitsuki, I recognize you as an adult among the Kin. As you have determined your name this day, may you continue to determine your identity in the future." She stretched forward a hand. "Take my hand and rise, Sakura, to begin your new life."

Sakura clasped Maki's hand and rose smoothly to embrace her friend.

"And kick butt at the Black Academy," Maki appended.

Sakura laughed. "Naturally."

Saw that name coming weeks ago.

(OOC: Yep. It wasn't much of a surprise, really; anyone who follows my country's posts at all should have predicted this one. The real surprises lie elsewhere. 8) )

"Well?" Maki asked.

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to get changed?"

"Changed?" Sakura drew back, studying Maki. "Why?" she asked slowly, not certain she wanted the answer.

"Because today is your Naming Day," Maki explained patiently. "You've got to celebrate properly. You're obliged to."

"Look, I'd really rather..."

Maki grinned. "Obliged. Now, I went through all the formalities. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't make sure you went through the customary getting-absolutely-wasted afterwards?"

Sakura sighed, but smiled despite herself. "All right. Give me ten minutes."

"Okay, but if you're not back by then, I'm going to come in and drag you out, so it'll be your own fault if you end up spending tonight completely naked."

"And how would that be my fault, exactly?"

Maki smiled angelically. "Nine minutes and thirty seconds," she said.

"Eep!" Sakura darted toward the house.

Sakura stirred, wincing. A band of malicious midgets armed with sledgehammers was attacking her skull. That was what it felt like, anyway.

Maybe jackhammers.

She tentatively cracked one eye open, and immediately shut it again. That definitely hadn't been a good idea. The midgets were now riverdancing, and they were all wearing steel-toed boots.

Now, what the hell happened? Sakura laboriously dredged up some memories, many of which were rather fuzzier than usual. Oh, right. Last night.

Now it was coming back to her, in flashes. Walking into the first of the nightclubs with Maki, only to be greeted by a chorus of congratulations from practically every foxgirl who'd been a schoolmate of hers. How had Maki tracked them all down so quickly? That was the club styled after a cave system, with stalagmites scattered across the dance floor and crystal formations and phosphorescent lichen 'grown' on the walls and ceiling. She couldn't remember the name, but they'd spent an hour or two there. After that was the club with the retro-"futuristic" pop-art motif, then the bar on Maple Street, then the ten-level club with a different theme for each level, and the oddly sweet blue drinks. It got a little fuzzy after that, but she remembered a live house with a talented jazz pianist, and a club with a medieval-dungeon motif (The Inquisition, that was the name), and probably another bar, and a movie theater.

By that time, most of the other foxgirls had drifted away, so Sakura had suggested calling it a night, although it had been pretty close to dawn anyway, by that point. And then she and Maki had made their way back home...

Pause.

Review.

Sakura slowly cracked that eye open again; being forewarned, she found the pain wasn't quite so bad, this time, though it took her a moment to focus. The first thing she saw was a tuft of white hair.

...Oh. She blinked. Yes, definitely Maki. Oh dear.

As if prodded by Sakura's awareness, Maki's eyes fluttered open. She managed a sleepy smile. "'Morning."

"Nnng."

"Oh. Sorry," Maki said, much more quietly. "Next time, drink some water before you fall asleep. It helps. You've got a pretty good tolerance, though. I figured I'd be carrying you back."

"I'm sorry."

"What, that I didn't have to drag you up the hill to your house?" Maki smirked. "I'm not complaining."

"No. Last night."

The smirk melted away, and the white-haired foxgirl blinked in sincere astonishment. "Why? Do you regret it?" As Sakura opened her mouth to reply, she added, "No, think about it. Do you regret it?"

Sakura considered her response. She remembered quite vividly, now. "...No," she admitted. "Not really. It's just... surprising. And I sort of wish... I don't know." She winced. "I do wish my head would stop pounding, though."

"Well, I don't, either." Maki's fingertips brushed her forehead lightly. "Lie still." She smiled fondly. "I'll make breakfast. Food should help a bit."

"You don't have to do that."

"I don't have to do anything, no." She winked. "But I want to. Now stay put."

Sakura obediently lay back, sighing to herself. For some reason, she felt an uncontrollable urge to giggle, but that soon subsided as the noise sent slashes of pain through her head.

By early afternoon, Sakura felt much better... physically, at least. She walked slowly along the street, trying to sort out her feelings. Now that she was of age, there was paperwork to complete, to make sure her records were updated with her chosen name, and though Maki had offered to go with her, she hadn't argued when Sakura had demurred. For her part, Sakura had thought it might be easier, alone. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be the case.

Laurel Street was blocked off; a throng of people filled its space. At the far side, a temporary stage had been set up. Her keen eyesight could make out the banner hung behind it: Justarian - United Ravenspire.

Ah, that was right. The rally was today. She'd known that she would have to detour a couple of blocks, but she'd forgotten. After last night...

Rodrik Justarian was just taking the stage, and she noted the details of his appearance by habit. Average height. Build a bit stocky, but neither muscular nor fat, particularly. Straight-cropped brownish hair, greying. About 40 years old. Even less impressive in person than he looked on television. For one thing, he seemed taller, on the vidscreen.

But he had been Mayor of Sargard when she had been in school here, and now he was Minister of Education and a skilled politician. Sakura had never had much use for politics, but she respected both bureaucratic management and diplomacy as fields of battle. Justarian had a good record in each.

And now he was running for Minister of State, the highest elective office in Ravenspire. The man or woman responsible for running the country's daily affairs, second only to the Beloved Leader himself. She'd seen Justarian's slogan before; none of her race could possibly have ignored it.

Following the revolution, the various human city-states had coalesced into a single national entity -- Ravenspire. The foxgirls had been recognized as a sovereign people in themselves, but were also accorded most of the rights of a citizen of Ravenspire. All of them, in fact, except the ability to run for certain key offices in the High Council -- State being among them. They were, in effect, dual citizens, thanks to the agreement the humans and the Kin had forged decades ago.

Now, there were many on both sides who wanted to revise that agreement, to create a single unified nation. This "true unification" was a part of one of Justarian's major platform issues, the "Strength Through Diversity" plank. Some, human and foxgirl alike, opposed the idea. But few of her kind had no opinion.

Justarian had been gaining support, lately. He was favored overwhelmingly by the foxgirls, and the foxgirls did have the vote. The current Minister of State, Schiller, opposed the idea, mostly on the grounds of tradition. The current system worked, no doubt about that.

Yet Schiller, who had been a competent leader and enjoyed good positive poll numbers, had been losing ground the last few weeks, to the point where it seemed as if the election might be a close one to call. Schiller was still ahead, and most of the other candidates far behind, but Justarian had gained enough to make it a contest.

Sakura stopped to listen to the candidate. He wasn't a bad speaker; mild, perhaps, but obviously intelligent, and his positions were well-considered.

But then, perhaps she was biased. She intended to vote for Justarian.

OOC: Bump... gotta get ahead again.

In due time she reached the office, a Gothic structure of dark basalt that squatted on the street like a gargantuan image of one of the gargoyles that graced its roof. The inside of the building, in a stark contrast to its exterior, was well-lit, with walls of institutional beige and relatively pleasant piped-in classical music. Mainly Brahms, it seemed.

Sakura preferred the exterior. At least it had character.

By the time she'd started filling out forms, thoughts of Justarian's campaign were behind her. Her mind kept returning to the problem that had occupied her since she'd awakened: Maki.

It wasn't the concept that disturbed her, she was sure enough of that. If the relationship should become known, it would be met with a shrug from society. Ravenspire was famously accepting, and bisexuality was common among its humans, and even more so among her own people. And on a personal level, she'd thought she'd been in love with Maki before, so the idea was hardly new to her.

Was it a relationship? Perhaps that was it. You couldn't get through basic education in Ravenspire without hearing about love; it was a recurring theme in literature and entertainment. But that didn't mean you would realize what it meant to be in love. She'd loved Alaric, she thought. And still do, that traitorous corner of her mind whispered. But then, she'd thought she'd loved Maki, when she'd confessed two years ago, and it had seemed she'd been mistaken, then...

She'd never actually been in a relationship. Was this the way it was supposed to happen?

Come to think of it, she'd rarely formed even a friendship. There was Maki, and there was Alaric -- both of whom had simply refused to give up -- and there was really no one else. The only other person who knew her that well was Jerel, and while he was a respected teacher, he was never a friend. Perhaps he didn't know how to be.

Do I know how to be? she wondered.

"...so that's basically it," Sakura concluded. She and Maki were seated in a private room in the Cherry Blossom Restaurant, a popular newcomer to the Sargard scene which served Chinese and Japanese cuisine, Ravenspire-style. She was mainly picking from the platter of exotic sushi and sashimi they had ordered, while Maki was enjoying a Hunan-style lobster dish. Green tea, plum wine, and chilled water accompanied the meal.

"Mmm." Maki considered Sakura's narrative of the last few hours. "Sorry. I didn't realize it'd be that big a deal." Realizing how that might sound, she quickly began to correct herself. "I mean, maybe I should've considered your past, and--"

"I know," the redhead said. "Oh! Hey, the eel is really good. You've got to try it."

"Too salty-tasting for me."

Sakura shrugged, snagging another piece of sashimi with her chopsticks. "Your loss. Anyway, this, er, really isn't easy for me, but... ah, hell. Thanks. Really, thank you. You've been a good friend. Sorry about freaking out like that."

Maki waved dismissively. "Understandable. I'm just glad you don't regret... anything."

"No, no. I just wasn't sure how to handle it, I guess." She reached for the plum wine; its cool sweetness, with just a hint of alcoholic bite lurking beneath, contrasted nicely with the burn of the wasabi.

Maki smiled at her. "We are still friends."

"Heh. Yeah, and more."

"But still friends."

"Thanks."

"Now, before this gets any mushier, what were you thinking about for dessert?" Maki's eyes sparkled mischievously.

"I've still got all this sushi to finish before I even consider that," Sakura protested.

"More eating and less talking, then. I'm leaning toward the banana tempura, but I bet you'd like the strawberry mochi."

(OOC: It's not dead yet! Honest!)

A week passed quickly in Sargard, as many vacationers from around the globe discovered on a regular basis. When she had attended school there, Sakura had noted how busy the city seemed, but spending time there with no demands and no purpose other than to spend time made it apparent just how many things there were to do. The city was a center of culture both high and popular, and it was set amid beautiful surroundings. The number of options was almost overwhelming.

The greater part of the third day she spent exploring those surroundings: during the day, the black-sand beaches and the crystal-blue ocean they bordered; in the evening, the hot spring resort Rimata.

The fourth, Sakura visited the Sargard Museum of Medieval and Renaissance Art, since that was the closing day of a temporary exhibit of tapestries. She strolled through Kowan Park, where she bought from a pushcart vendor a late lunch, in the form of a pita stuffed with lamb, cheese, and vegetables, and past Ayukawa Hall, where she saw that the Sargard Philharmonic Orchestra was performing Holst's "Planets" in honor of the recent announcement of the colonization of Ariel. She managed to procure tickets, though they were second-balcony seats. The hours before the show were spent visiting nearby boutiques in search of appropriate evening wear.

The fifth, there was a football game: the Sargard Cranes were playing against the Fal Dara Scorpions. The Scorpions were the top-rated team, but the Cranes' newest striker, Zhen Sui-Ling, had lately been performing well, so that some said she was certain to be selected as captain of Ravenspire's World Cup team -- an almost-inconceivable honor for a player so young. Sakura cared little for most sports, but she did appreciate true talent when she saw it, and she was not disappointed; the Cranes won the match by four goals to the Scorpions' two, and Sui-Ling earned a hat trick. An enthusiastic young foxgirl in the row in front of Sakura cheerfully informed her parents that she was going to play just like Sui-Ling some day. Smiling to herself, Sakura hoped it would come to pass.

On the sixth day, she took a boat to Kresgard, a large island off the coast, near the mouth of the Gulf of Ravenspire. Most of the island was bleak rock, but two of the old coastal fortresses still remained, and had been renovated as tourist attractions. She walked the grounds of Fort Kresgard, the older of the two, and listened as the guide related stories about the fortress. Her military courses at the Black Academy had dealt with the island and its forts, but there was much she had not yet heard, and the simple fact of physical presence gave new meaning to those stories she had.

Most of the time, Maki was by her side; that, she enjoyed more than any of the sights.

And suddenly, her week was over, and she had a decision to make. It proved to be harder than she'd expected; the past days had been nothing short of... indescribable. Magical. Paradise.

She'd shared the details with Maki, naturally, but the white-haired foxgirl had refused to say or do anything to try to influence her. "Of course I'd like you to stay," she had said once, after Sakura had repeatedly pressed the question. "But I'd also like you to go. I'd like to see you succeed at whatever it is you decide to do. But it's your decision, Sakura." After that, she wouldn't discuss the matter further. She called it honor. Sakura called it maddening.

The worst of it was, Maki was right, and Sakura knew it. She couldn't let someone else determine the course of her life; even Jerel had always stressed that she could leave his tutelage at any time. Come to that, she wouldn't even have returned to Sargard if he hadn't insisted she consider the possibilities of her independence. He'd been right, too, but her choice to come here, to take his advice, had been hers, and the choice to go to Tir Eselyn had to be hers as well. Besides, even if Maki had been willing to make the decision for her, and she'd allowed it, she would have ended up resenting Maki for it; Sakura knew herself well enough to know that.

But it was so hard. The prospect of continuing this life was a seductive one.

And now, as Sakura and her lover lay entwined in the aftermath of their lovemaking, and every detail seemed to stand out sharply, as if to imprint itself on her mind -- the cool slipperiness of the silken sheets tangled by her feet, the soft rise and fall of Maki's chest, the heat of her skin against Sakura's, the texture of the snow-white hair that spilled over the pillow like a halo around her head, the faint scent of jasmine that lingered about that snowy hair, the muted illumination of the full moon through the gossamer window-curtain, the pounding of her own heart -- even now, in the back of her mind, there was a nagging thought, like a clock counting down the seconds until morning, until the decision could no longer be delayed.

Somehow, she slept.

-=-=-=-=-=-

She awakened alone, but there was a folded note on the pillow beside her. Already knowing what it must say, she opened it, and read.


Hey.

Sorry about this. I never was much for long goodbyes, though, or any goodbyes at all for that matter, and I'm pretty sure I know what you've decided. I want you to know I'm proud. So don't go getting a complex, or anything.

You're going to be great, some day. I kind of guessed that, since that first day we met. You're going to do things most people can't even dream of.

But I'm still going to kick your butt in the next Open, assuming you don't 'forget' about that one, too.

Take care of yourself, kiddo. Love ya.

Maki


Sakura closed her eyes; she thought she might cry, and was rather surprised when she found herself laughing, instead.

"You came back," Jerel greeted her.

"I came back. It's Sakura now."

"Sakura?" Jerel smiled faintly. "A good name. Your birth names were also for flowers, you know."

She nodded. "I remember."

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

There was no means of adequately answering that question. So she didn't try. "Yes." After a moment, she added, "I thought about staying."

"I expected as much. To be honest, I wasn't sure you'd be back."

"I'm not done yet." She smiled wanly. "I can't quit halfway through it."

Jerel nodded, slowly. He must have suspected there were things she was leaving unsaid, but he made no mention of them. "In that case, we'll begin preparing you to take control of the throne of Clan Kitsuki. Entering the CI/CT elite is the first step. We'll be doubling your training sessions. Also, I've taken the liberty of obtaining notes pertaining to the lectures and assignments you missed; catch up. What's so funny?"

"Nothing." Sakura smirked. "It's just good to be back."

Ten Years Ago

The lessons were being repeated now. Topics she had already covered were examined in more depth as she focused on her declared areas. Stealth, disguise, infiltration, escape, computer programming, systems operation, security systems. There were times days passed in the Black Academy almost without her being aware of them. There were times weeks did -- particularly around exams.

Her class had begun to dwindle in size. By her third year, less than three-fourths the original number remained. The others had failed to withstand the academic rigors and been forced to leave, or had failed to withstand the psychological rigors and requested transfers elsewhere, or, in one case, had suffered a very public nervous breakdown in the middle of an exam. Among students and administration alike, there was sympathy for these, but no regret. The Black Academy was in the business of forging elites, and there were always those who were broken in the tempering. Their philosophy and Jerel's were in accord on that particular issue.

Sakura was not one of them; she continued to excel. Any graduate of the Black Academy would have a wide choice of jobs or assignments. But a graduate near the top of the class, as she was, would be actively sought after. As she was to discover...

"Congratulations," said Dr. Germahn, her advisor, as she walked into the office.

"What?"

He handed her an envelope. "Better you see for yourself."

Curious, Sakura slit the envelope with her nail, and drew out the paper within. It was thick, high-quality paper, slightly glossy, with a definite texture to it. Unfolding it, she first noted the embossed seal: Golden stars on the top half of black field, above a 'horizon' line; below the line, the motto Sic itur ad astra, 'Thus we proceed to the stars.' The seal of the Ravenspire Spacy. She scanned the text. "This is... an offer of commission?"

Dr. Germahn nodded. "The admiralty... a battlegroup within the recently-constructed Fourth Fleet, if I'm not mistaken."

"They want to send me to Pre-Admiralty, straight out of academy?"

"No. They want to send you to Admiralty."

Sakura reread, realized it was true. "But... that's not even my area."

Her advisor smiled slightly, shaking his head. "That's not relevant. Your training has applications in other areas. You've done quite well on the tactics evaluation, for instance... although your strategy could use further work. But what you haven't learned here, you'd pick up in Admiralty. In two years, you'd be in command of a battlegroup. Another five, if that, a fleet."

"Seven years?"

"Space is a young person's field, Sakura. When I was your age, we were just launching the first rockets. You know, the 'War of the Worlds' scare? The revolution wasn't so far behind us, and we saw it as a step to a greater future." The doctor's eyes took on a faraway cast. "And so it was. Ravenspire is spreading through the solar system. But along with that comes the need to defend those outposts. Old men like me--" He chuckled. "We were raised and trained in a time when space battles were still the stuff of fiction. We're no longer flexible enough to improvise. That's why 19 of the 20 existing admirals are below the age of 35. They haven't got the preconceptions drilled into them that we had. For that matter, that's why so many of the Ministries are occupied by relatively young men and women. Our society is still changing, and change is mostly the domain of youth. Fifty years ago, that wouldn't have been the case. Fifty years from now, it may not be. But you came of age at the right time to ride the wave of change. It's an age of chaos."

"Interesting times," Sakura noted dryly.

"Exactly. So... look at this as your first opportunity."

"Space, huh...?" She frowned to herself. "I can't do it. I can't take seven years right now."

"No?" Dr. Germahn was mildly surprised. "Well, there will be other offers, to be sure. I can understand not making a decision until you've seen them. But that isn't what you're talking about, is it?" She shook her head, and he asked, "Why?"

"Time." She swallowed. "I need to be on Earth, in Ravenspire, within the next seven years."

Understanding dawned. "Ah. You're entering the politics of your kind. Rulership of House Kitsuki?"

She nodded. "And Clan Kitsuki, if I can."

"And beyond that?" She smirked; he nodded. "I see. Well, I can't fault you for ambition. But as your advisor, I must warn you that chances like this one -- and those you have yet to receive -- do not come lightly."

"Thanks. But right now, the only offer I'm interested in is from CI/CT."

He nodded slowly. "Very well. You seem to know what you're doing. But may I ask why?"

"Why...?" Sakura smiled. "Because I can, I suppose."

(Deletion-prevention bump.)

(Bump -- new part coming fairly soon. I hope.)