Lois Fogg
Email: SireneCall@hotmail.com
Fantasy
[AuthorÕs Notes at the end]


Book Five: Why I Changed My Mind

	She hadnÕt said that. Of course I had simply misheard her. He
was hurt of course, but he couldnÕt be...dying. Mamoru didnÕt die, he
did infuriating things, but he was too...competent to die. He kissed me.
People who kiss me donÕt die. And with blurred vision I stared into his
eyes, at his sad smiling eyes, and I knew it was the truth. I felt dirt and
water seep through my kimono. When had I knelt down? I knew I must
be crying, because I could hardly see, but I couldnÕt feel anything. I
only saw Mamoru and the end of my world as I knew it.
	ÒSerena!Ó Petunia shouted, forcefully lifting my shaking body
from the ground. ÒSnap out of it! Do you want to save him or not?Ó
	ÒS-save him?Ó I stuttered, fighting desperately to keep from
having  a mental breakdown.
	ÒIf we hurry, thereÕs still a chance.Ó
	ÒB-but you said...Ó
	ÒI know. He is. I canÕt use much magic, but...IÕll use some. He
may pull through.Ó
	I was an automaton. My emotions had shut off completely,
neatly filed away for later use. I stumbled over to his body, and dimly
registered that he had passed out. Petunia knelt by him and signaled for
me to do so as well.
	ÒCall the power, Serena. We canÕt move him without it,Ó
Petunia said, and I stared at her blankly. ÒI  know youÕve used it before!
Remember how you got here the first time?Ó
	I nodded, not quite acknowledging the implications of her
words but understanding all the same.
	ÒWe have to enter the trance together. Only I know where this
place is.Ó Again, I didnÕt understand her, but my brain was not very
involved in this process, anyway. All I had was the single minded
determination to save Mamoru, to turn this long shot into reality. The
trance came easily, and I immediately understood what I was supposed
to do. I just acted as an extra conduit to her power. I had a brief
sensation of chocolate banana nut bread before we moved to the now
familiar limbo area. We stayed there for far longer than I had before,
though, and I sensed it was because Petunia was at once struggling to
keep Mamoru alive and move us somewhere. Eventually, though, we
arrived. I opened my eyes, half expecting to see twentieth century
America, but instead seeing the familiar forest landscape. I was about to
ask if the spell had failed before I noticed the important difference. We
were in a clearing surrounded by apple trees. I barely had time to think
of them, however, because Petunia and I had to move Mamoru as gently
as possible inside the small cottage in the center of the clearing. My
hands grew slick with blood almost immediately, but I doggedly ignored
the implications and carried him inside. The cabin had a curiously
western design, with European style beds and a small fireplace and
kitchen on one side. We laid him on the bed nearest to the door, and I
stared at my hands in horror. I did not want to look back at the
gruesome trail we had left. How could this be happening, I wondered
desperately, and felt the barrier enclosing my emotions begin to
deteriorate. Petunia, who had begun ripping off his clothes, shouted to
me again.
	ÒCome help me with this!Ó She said urgently, and I had another
task to preoccupy my time. We were careful around his wound, but it
was large and his clothes had already begun to stick. Without the black
shirt, its extent was even more apparent, and I could hardly look.
	ÒHere,Ó Petunia said, handing me a bucket from under the bed.
ÒFetch some water. ThereÕs a pump on the side of the house.Ó
	I nodded and ran, making each footfall, each breath a prayer for
his safety. I pumped the water and sprinted back inn, half afraid that he
had died in my absence. PetuniaÕs frown of concentration told me that
he hadnÕt. She dipped a cloth into the bucket and gently began cleaning
the wound, muttering at odd intervals. I assumed that she was
performing mild magic, because I could still smell banana nut bread.
	ÒWhatever blade struck him was enchanted. Magic in the
system acts like a poison...and this wound is already serious.Ó
	ÒSo...youÕre saying--Ò I choked.
	She shook her head. ÒNo, IÕm not saying that. IÕm saying itÕs
harder, because you canÕt use magic to cure magic fever. I couldnÕt use
that much magic, anyway. It would make this place detectable.Ó
	ÒWhat can you do?Ó
	She sighed. ÒI can stop a great deal of the bleeding by holding
the wound together magically...like stitches. There are a few salves I
keep around here made with rare healing herbs. It may help...I donÕt
know.Ó
	His breathing was shallow and even now his face was twisted
with pain, but at least he was still alive. And I would do anything, I
realized, literally anything, to keep it that way. Petunia was moving even
before I could say yes. She quickly walked over and drew out several
unlabeled glass jars filled with anonymous substances.
	ÒThereÕs some linen in that closet, too,Ó she said over her
shoulder as she sat down again. ÒCan you rip it up into bandages?Ó
	I nodded, trying to avoid tripping over my feet as I ran. I was
still shaking, which made it difficult to tear the unwieldy cloth into neat
strips. The ones I handed to Petunia were uneven, but they worked.  At
first, as she quickly wrapped the white cloth around his midsection, he
groaned slightly, but he then seemed to slip further away. I would have
thought he had died after all, save for the shallow movement of his
chest.
	ÒSerena,Ó Petunia said in a low, urgent voice. ÒHold his hand,
do something. HeÕs slipping...Ó
	I believe that the effort I made that night was unequal to
anything I have ever accomplished before or since. I wanted nothing
more than to sink to the floor in a weeping heap, and I couldnÕt let
myself do that. So I knelt beside the bed, noted with fear that the bed
sheets were soaked in his blood and that even as she wrapped the
bandage more blood was soaking through. I noted it, but refused to
give into the blind panic that it caused. Mamoru needed me and I would
come through for him, no matter the personal cost. And so, unsure of
what else to do, I held his hand. It was limp and cold but I gripped it
desperately, and stared into his slack face.
	ÒMamoru,Ó I whispered, my voice cracking. ÒPlease, hold on.
Just make it through this...please.Ó My world only included him. I barely
noticed when Petunia had finished bandaging him. When I looked up I
even realized that she had done the same for his shoulder as well.
	ÒSerena,Ó I heard her say, as though she had been calling me
for a while. Her tone was gentle, though. ÒI must do what I can to clean
this aura of magic...I will be back.Ó
	I turned around, alarmed. What if he grew worse and I didnÕt
know what to do? The space where she had been was empty, however.
Turning back, feeling more helpless than ever, I took his hand again.
	ÒIf you think about it,Ó I said, my tears dripping down my face
and onto the bed. Òyou said that you had...enjoyed my company. I...I
know that youÕll miss calling me dumpling head. And...Mamo-chan,Ó my
laugh was indistinguishable from a sob. ÒYou always hated that name,
didnÕt you? I thought it was cute. Maybe thatÕs why you didnÕt like it.
We went through all of this together, Mamoru. Everything...and you
protected me, like you promised. Even when I didnÕt want to be. So...so
please stay,Ó my tears renewed themselves. Did I have an endless
supply? ÒPlease stay...Ó
	And everything broke. The effort to hold myself together
proved far too difficult. I sat there and buried my head in the crook of
his arm and cried. And just before exhaustion claimed me, I remembered
our kiss, and my lips burned.

	I awoke in the same position to the feeling of sunlight baking
my back. My legs had fallen asleep, as I had been kneeling all night. My
face was sticky with tears. For a moment of bliss I had forgotten the
events of the night before. But when I sat up, slowly, everything came
crashing upon me. With a noise that was not so much a gasp as a
sudden release of air, I stared at him, afraid that he had died while I
slept. But no, he was still breathing, I saw gratefully. I prayed that he
was better, that our efforts the night before had saved him. And as I
stared, his eyes slowly opened. I saw him accept his surroundings
quietly, and then his eyes rested on me. My heart was pounding, my
lungs seemingly incapable of taking a full breath. He smiled, and that
simple action made me feel like running every way at once. I stayed
where I was, paradoxically unable to move.
	ÒDumpling head,Ó he said softly, and the dam broke all over
again. I didnÕt care about anything anymore, now that he was safe. I
sobbed next to him, and I felt his arm rest gently on my shoulders, as if
to comfort me. It only made me cry harder, but this time, half the tears
were for joy.
	The other half was for myself. Last night I had acknowledged
something that had been true for a very long time. Perhaps since the
first time I met him. I was desperately, wholeheartedly and riotously in
love with the self-professed cocky bastard, Chiba Mamoru. It was, I
knew, just about the dumbest thing I had ever done in a life replete with
stupidities.
	Funny how I was so happy about it.

	Petunia came in moments later, as though she had been waiting
outside the door for just this moment. In fact, I had no doubt that that
was exactly what had happened. I was beginning to suspect that she
had a slightly more-than-healthy interest in my love life. She gave us a
broad smile and the kind of unsubtle wink that heartily reminded me of
the Petunia that I knew. Her tense and competent demeanor of the night
before had been like a completely different person. It also gave me the
final assurance that Mamoru was truly safe from mortal danger. Petunia
opened the cupboard that apparently contained all of her medicines,
and pulled out a small jar. She opened it, and put a small spoonful of its
contents into a glass of water that she was holding and stirred it
thoroughly. She then walked over to me, gently pushing me out of the
way. I let go of MamoruÕs hand reluctantly, half afraid that if I did so, he
would disappear.
	ÒHere,Ó she said gently, holding the cup to his lips, ÒI know it
tastes awful, but you need to sleep. It will help with the pain.Ó His eyes
conveyed acceptance, and he drank the contents with only a slight
frown of distaste. I felt terrible for not realizing how much pain he must
be in; his expression had definitely been one of desperately
suppressing an unpleasant feeling. Only, I had been too happy at his
miraculous recovery to realize it. He fell asleep again almost immediately,
and in sleep his face lost that pinched expression. His complexion also
looked considerably healthier--to my untrained eye, at least-- which I
thought was a good sign.
	ÒSerena,Ó Petunia said as I stared at him, taking infinite
pleasure from the mere contemplation of his features, Òwe need to talk.Ó
	I grunted an absent affirmative.
	ÒNow, I believe would be a good time,Ó she said, and forcefully
grabbed my elbow and dragged me outside. I looked at her in
annoyance, but before I could really work up a good pout, I was
overcome with the beauty of my surroundings. It appeared that
wherever she had taken us it was perpetual summer, because the apple
trees were in full bloom and the leaves were deep green. The
temperature was perfect. We sat on the small wooden porch of her
cottage, and I turned to her.
	ÒYou have a great number of things to explain,Ó I said.
	She nodded. ÒAnd more than you expect, I imagine.Ó
	I raised my eyebrows, my sense of ease slowly flowing away. I
felt as though I would need my wits about me during this exchange.
ÒPerhaps we should start with you being the Lady. If you can solve
these peopleÕs problems, why havenÕt you come down here already and
fixed them? DonÕt tell me that you didnÕt know what was going on?Ó
	She sighed, and shook her head. ÒHerman...he really has gone
of the deep end this time, hasnÕt he? I always thought he was a little
unbalanced, but this latent adolescence of his...Ó
	ÒWait, wait,Ó I protested, wondering if this was just another
manifestation of her strange sense of humor. ÒHerman? Whose
Herman?Ó
	She widened her violet eyes. ÒYou donÕt know? HeÕs the Kojin,
of course. The people around here canÕt pronounce Herman...and Kojin
always did sound more forbidding. Herman always had that character
flaw...he wanted people to fear him.Ó
	Now it was my turn to widen my eyes. ÒHerman. YouÕre telling
me that the KojinÕs name is *Herman*?Ó I really couldnÕt help it.
Suddenly, I had a vision of a short, rotund man with male-pattern
baldness. He no longer seemed nearly so threatening. Despite myself I
started to giggle, as much with the aftereffects of extreme shock as
humor.
	She looked at me, a smile on her lips. ÒYes, well, Petunia isnÕt
exactly the most forbidding name in the world, either. Perhaps our
parents didnÕt realize that we were destined to become major world
figures...just in another world.Ó
	I stared at her again. ÒYour parents? You mean you really are
brother and sister?Ó
	ÒWell, we canÕt all be proud of our relations, now can we?Ó She
shrugged philosophically. ÒHe really was basically a good person until
all this mess started. I honestly canÕt tell you whatÕs gotten into him.
Suddenly he sees the princess, and hormones we never knew he had
kicked in.Ó
	ÒWhich brings me back to my question: why donÕt you stop
him?Ó
	ÒHeÕs my brother.Ó
	ÒHeÕs killing thousands of people! This entire land lives in fear
of the Kojin!Ó
	ÒNo, no, I didnÕt mean it like that, my dear! Of course I
*would* stop him if I *could*, itÕs just that I *canÕt*, thatÕs all.Ó
	ÒThe great Lady canÕt stop him? Why not?Ó
	She gave me an impatient glance. ÒHave you cleaned your ears
recently? Because heÕs my brother, of course! Our magic is too similar,
and we have been around far too long. He knows the exact imprint of my
magic and I know his. We are completely invulnerable to each other.
The entire essence of magic attacks is surprise. If you know exactly
what someone is going to do before they do it, theyÕve lost the battle
before you start. So IÕm very afraid of the fact that he has given you two
such a hard time.Ó
	I digested what she had said, and then asked the obvious
question: ÒWhy is that?Ó
	ÒHe knows that I canÕt hurt him. If he thought that your quest
was simply to come and fetch me, he ought to have handed you flowers
and given you a good luck party, for all the harm you would have
caused him. But, he didnÕt. He sent men after you, dogged your
footsteps, and almost killed Mamoru. And that means that he knows
something I prayed he wouldnÕt figure out, and I donÕt know how he
knows it.Ó
	ÒKnows what?Ó I asked, wishing that she would get to the
point. I doubted that I had ever been more lost in a conversation.
	ÒThat you are indeed dangerous to him. And finding me would
only render you more so, Serena.Ó
	ÒHow...am I dangerous?Ó I asked slowly, no afraid that I did
follow her, only too well.
	She stared at me frankly. ÒBecause you can use magic. You,
and I and Herman are the only three, as far as I know, in this entire
world.Ó

	Which explained a great deal, after all. Namely, the chocolate (I
would have to ask her about this whole scent business later), and our
often improbably close shaves. I had never wondered why the Kojin
was following us, but then I also never thought that I had magic. Well,
the possibility had occurred to me, but I had never really believed it.
Even when I read the traveling spell that time in the library-- it seemed
like centuries ago-- it had never occurred to me that you needed magic
to do it. I did wonder how Mamoru would react to this new information,
though. Magic seemed vaguely connected with his mother, though, and
I was afraid of how he might see it. This was all currently a moot issue,
though, because he would have to recover sufficiently for me to talk to
him about anything. Petunia had left me to check on him, and I sat,
staring at the apple trees, considering the most important implication of
her news. In the back of my mind I had always thought that once we
found Ôthe LadyÕ she would take over and make everything better. This
was quite obviously not going to be the case. From what she had told
me, I was supposed to be the one to fight this man. Me, some random,
bumbling, blonde ditz from another world, was supposed to defeat a
competent and powerful magic wielder with several hundred years of
experience? Yeah right.
	ÒSerena,Ó she called from inside. ÒCan you give me a hand
here? I want to change the sheets.Ó Reluctantly, I stood up. This matter
would be discussed later, I decided. When I entered, I saw that she was
trying to remove the bloody sheets from underneath Mamoru. She must
have given him another wonder drug, because he was still sleeping
deeply. After a few minutes of tugging on the sticky sheets-- it was
remarkable how desensitized I had become to blood-- we stopped,
frustrated.
	ÒWhy donÕt we just move him to that bed,Ó I said, pointing to
the one closer to the fireplace, Òand then change these sheets?Ó  She
agreed, and we proceeded to haul his not inconsiderable bunk to the
other bed. At that he stirred, although we tried to be as gentle as
possible. I thought I saw more blood soak through his bandages.
	ÒI think this is the last time we move him,Ó Petunia said slowly,
seeing the same thing.
	ÒAre you still holding it together?Ó
	She nodded. ÒAs much as I can. Too much magic will only hurt
him.Ó
	The thought of him hurting this much scared me. I wanted to
run to him and take it all away, somehow, which was a genuinely
ridiculous notion if I ever had one. There were practical matters to
attend to, however, and I removed the blood soaked sheets while
Petunia prepared to change his bandage. It was already soaked through
with his blood, although I supposed that he was losing far less than he
had before.
	ÒThrough the apple trees in back thereÕs a little stream,Ó
Petunia said, looking at my stricken expression, Òwhy donÕt you take
some soap and go wash the sheets?Ó I was about to protest, and then
realized that not seeing this would probably be better for my heart. This
state of constant panic probably wasnÕt helping me. Apparently when
Petunia said soap, she was not referring to modern-day laundry
detergent, but what looked to be homemade lye soap. Shrugging
philosophically, and eager to leave before she changed the bandages, I
took the soap and sheets and made my way to the stream. It was a small,
gentle little thing that almost seemed to giggle at my arrival. This was
such an enchanted place, I realized, looking around. I wondered where
exactly we were-- we had traveled here like one would to another world,
and yet this did not feel precisely different from Umeru. I could not
explain it, but I determined to ask Petunia later. Kneeling, I separated the
sheets and dunked the bloodiest one into the water first. Was it my
imagination, or did the water sigh in distaste when I did that? I tried to
ignore the fact that the stream ran red with MamoruÕs blood for quite
some time. I scrubbed furiously, somehow feeling that if I cleaned every
trace of blood from the sheets, it would be like he had never hurt himself
at all, which of course I knew was absurd. Petunia allowed herself to be
heard as she approached, rightly feeling wary of what I would do in my
current state.
	ÒHeÕs going to be all right, you know,Ó she said, taking the
other sheet and dunking it into the water.
	ÒI know. I do. ItÕs just...I donÕt know if I can see him like
this...hurting...Ó
	ÒYouÕll have to, you know. I canÕt stay here much longer. After
I show you what to do, youÕll have to take care of him until he
recovers.Ó
	I turned to face her now. ÒYouÕre leaving? Already? You
havenÕt answered nearly all of my questions, and your last little speech
gave me about a million more.Ó
	ÒMaybe you should just list them,Ó she said sarcastically.
	ÒAll right, fine. First, how can you possibly expect me to
defeat...Herman? I mean, the man is practically indomitable. HeÕs been
practicing magic for centuries, and all I can do is give a faint
approximation of chocolate! If UmeruÕs hope depends on me, then itÕs
doomed. Second, what on earth did that riddle of yours mean? Third,
where are we? Fourth, where do you have to go and why? Fifth, whatÕs
up with this chocolate, banana nut bread, peppermint business?Ó I was
ticking these points off on my fingers in a business like manner, but
after five I seemed to run out of questions. I knew there were more, of
course, but in the manner of my life, I couldnÕt seem to think of them
when they were going to be answered.
	ÒAbout a million, huh?Ó She said when it was clear that I was
done. ÒHmm...well, I think IÕll go from the bottom up. I donÕt know why
our magic has different odors, but its one of the reasons that itÕs so
detectable. I suspect, however, that each smell is the casterÕs favorite
food. Honestly, I never did understand why Herman had such an
inordinate fondness for peppermint. Moving on, I have to leave. While I
canÕt directly fight Herman, I can certainly try to save as many people as
I can. It will perhaps stave off complete disaster until you defeat him,Ó I
opened my mouth to protest this casual statement, but she waved my
objections away, ÒWe are still in Umeru...in the Minami hills, in fact.
Long ago, I found a patch of....dead space, you might call it. I altered it
magically into what you see here, as my own personal hideout.
Hmm...what else? Oh yes, the riddle was an apple, of course! I really
found it quite obvious, although people these days really devote far too
little of their time to riddles.Ó
	Now I had to interrupt her. ÒAn apple? A house with no doors
and a star in the middle? What are you talking about? I had noticed the
apple trees, but...Ó
	She sighed. ÒMy dear, if you cut an apple diagonally, the
seeds form a star. And itÕs the home of a worm! I really thought that I
was being too easy when I made it up...Ó
	I stared at her, and then shrugged my shoulders. I never would
have come up with that answer in a million years, so it was good that
she had come along anyway.
	ÒAs for your first question...Ó she looked at me seriously, ÒI
know that you have the potential. Unfortunately, you are right, you
donÕt have nearly the experience or manpower that Herman does. If you
went against him now you would die within seconds.Ó
	ÒThanks for the vote of confidence,Ó I said. ÒIf IÕm doomed
anyway, why bother sending me on a suicide mission?Ó
	ÒYou have to train. There is a book that contains every spell
that you could possibly need. I have the first volume, but Herman was
given the second...Ó
	ÒHow am I supposed to get it, then!Ó
	ÒHold on, my dear. I said it *belonged* to Herman, I never said
he had it in his possession. We both have long memorized both books.
He has no more need of it than I.Ó
	ÒYou mean his book is back in America?Ó
	ÒWell, at least on our world. My half is still in my house there.Ó
	ÒAnd his?Ó
	Her eyebrows came together. ÒWell...I donÕt quite know, IÕm
afraid.Ó
	ÒYou donÕt know? Listen, I donÕt enjoy the prospect of a
suicide mission,Ó I said indignantly.
	ÒIf you go back, IÕm sure you could find it, though,Ó she
protested.
	ÒWhat makes you so sure of that?Ó
	ÒWell...Herman keeps journals. He has since he was a child. Of
course, he canÕt carry all of his old journals around with him, so he left
some back in our world, sure that no one there would have any use for
them. IÕm sure that he wrote where he hid it in one of them.Ó
	ÒDo you know where these journals are?Ó
	She winced. ÒWell, vaguely,Ó she said. I was about to protest,
but she spoke over me. ÒI am positive that he donated them to a library
in DCÓ
	I stared at her. ÒWhat? Why on earth would he do that?Ó
	To my surprise, she blushed and stared at the floor. ÒWell...at
the time, I was banned from every library in the city. He didnÕt want me
getting to them.Ó
	ÒBanned...from a *library*? What did you do, burn the
books?Ó
	She laughed a little too nervously and waved her hand. ÒOh,
none of that matters now. The important thing is that you must find the
second volume and then memorize all of the spells. If you do that, you
may have a chance.Ó
	I snorted derisively, ÒYou mean that I may at least kill him as he
kills me.Ó
	She looked at me seriously, ÒPerhaps. Are you willing to
accept that reality? You can still back out of this, you know.Ó
	Boy was that a question. Was I willing to take this on? To risk
sacrificing my life for a world I had only recently learned of? Of course,
hadnÕt Mamoru done the same thing? HadnÕt he been willing to sacrifice
his life for a crazy girl he had met mere months ago? WasnÕt he lying
behind me now, recovering from wounds he had incurred in my
defense? What kind of person would I be if I just said no to this, and
made MamoruÕs sacrifice worth nothing? No matter how afraid I was, I
could not do that.
	ÒIÕm not backing out of anything.Ó I said strongly.
	She smiled broadly. ÒI was hoping youÕd say that.Ó

	The rest of that day she instructed me on the various kinds of
poultices, what they were and when to apply them. She also told me that
I would have to change his bandages every day for at least a week, an
event that I was not looking forward to. In a strange way that was half
instruction, half mutual concentration, I figured out how to hold his
wound together, and keep the spell active in the back of my mind. It
seemed that I had mastered the fundamental basic of magic, power
drawing, long before, which made basic spells like this much easier. I
wondered how I would live with the constant, faint smell of chocolate
without having cravings, but figured I would cross that bridge when I
came to it.
	ÒIÕll try to come back in two or three days,Ó she said over
dinner that night. Meals in this place apparently appeared on the table
at appropriate intervals, and vanished when finished. According to
Petunia, she had harnessed a set of friendly cooking demons. You
couldnÕt see them, and I wasnÕt too inclined to ask her where they
bought their groceries. She warned me not to feed Mamoru any solid
food until he seemed noticeably stronger, and she had told the cooking
demons precisely what to prepare him. The very thought of feeding him
baby food made me want to roll over with convulsive laughter. The
object of our discussion was, of course, still asleep.
	ÒI suppose we ought to do this, itÕll make things safer for the
both of us, and you can call me if youÕre in any trouble of some sort.
You shouldnÕt be though. This place is practically undetectable, even to
Herman.Ó
	ÒDo what?Ó I asked, still finishing the last of my dinner. I had
been so hungry!
	ÒSiblings automatically know the ins and outs of each otherÕs
magic, which prevents sibling rivalry. I suppose itÕs a magical protective
mechanism. Anyone else is fair game, though, as far as magic is
concerned. Unless we take a Witches Oath.Ó
	I looked at her. ÒWitches Oath? WhatÕs that?Ó
	ÒI let you into my magic and you let me into yours. It just so
happens that tonight is a day of no moon, the most powerful night for
magic. If we did it tonight, you would be permanently bound to me, and
I to you.Ó
	I nodded slowly. ÒOf course, if you turn out to be the bad guy
in all of this, IÕm just screwed?Ó
	She smiled a little. ÒOf course.Ó
	ÒThen, what are we waiting for?Ó I said, standing up. ÒLetÕs get
to it!Ó

	The ritual turned out to be a little more complicated than that. It
was eerily dark outside, the only light given by the faint stars. Petunia
had taken a knife wrapped in a handkerchief and a heavy earthenware
bowl from the floorboards and carried it outside to the middle of the
clearing. As soon as I stepped outside I felt my skin tingle with the aura
of magic. My heart pounded faster, as if it were pushing something
other than blood throughout my body. She lay the bowl on the ground,
and removed the knife from its protective covering. The honed blade
glinted dangerously, and I swallowed. I hoped that this was still a good
idea, but despite my joking around, I trusted Petunia implicitly. Violet
eyes stared up into blue ones, although I still wasnÕt too aware of my
height advantage. It certainly did nothing to make me feel more
adequate.
	ÒAre you ready for this, Serena?Ó
	ÒYes,Ó I said calmly, although I certainly didnÕt feel that way.
	ÒWe each cut one of our wrists, and let the blood drip into the
bowl for a full minute, all the while drawing power. And when the minute
is up, we join our wrists together. You must not speak or utter a single
sound from the time I utter the invocation to the time I close the
conduit.Ó I eyed the blade warily, but nodded my understanding.
Apparently satisfied, we knelt on either side of the bowl.
	ÒEkianeru,Ó she said, and with those words I felt a strange,
trance like state of power settle upon me. Petunia reached for the knife,
and in one quick, violent motion, slit her left wrist. With the same hand,
she handed me the blade. I was calm in the knowledge that it was too
late to turn back. After all that had happened to me, I was not about to
be deterred by a little self-induced pain. I took the knife in my left hand,
and ran it deeply across my right wrist without hesitation. Perhaps I had
not fully expected the sharp stinging, but I did not flinch or cry out. I
held my dripping wrist over the bowl, trying to ignore the way the blood
throbbed through my arm. I replaced the knife next to the bowl. True to
her instructions, I drew power into myself. Unsure of how much I
needed, I filled myself to capacity, sucking in magic even after I thought
I would burst. After an eternity, Petunia lifted her hand and I lifted mine.
We locked eyes seconds before we locked wrists, and then I exploded.
	This was pain. There was so much magic flowing between us
that I could barely keep my mouth closed around it. I did, though,
unwilling to ruin the spell. Even as I suffered, my magic touched her
magic, and gradually, they accepted each other. I found myself learning
everything about how she cast spells, what her least favorites were,
what she was particularly proud of, when she had first used it, and I
could feel her learning the same. And then it was over. The only
physical indication I had was that the pain had stopped, but it went
deeper than that. Petunia realized it too.
	ÒEkianeru,Ó she said, in a voice far weaker, and our wrists
separated. I looked at my wrist, expecting to see a gaping wound, but
instead I only saw long ridged scar. And although the bowl had been
more than half full with our blood, none remained.
	She left soon after that, and we both felt a little dazed. Feeling
exhausted, and realizing that he sheets for the other bed were still
drying outside, I grabbed the spare blanket, and spread it out on the
floor beneath Mamoru. Despite my uncomfortable position, I fell asleep
almost immediately.

	I awoke to the sound of the little kitchen demons putting
breakfast on the table. Really, I thought as I sat up, of all the things 
that
Petunia told me, that has to be the strangest. Whoever thought that I
would be stuck alone in the middle of a forest of apple trees in a parallel
universe playing nursemaid to a man who, against all probability, I had
fallen in love with? Even while I laughed at myself, though, I was
terrified of what would happen when Mamoru woke up and I would
have to talk to him. I knew that I was too nervous and squeamish to
have a good  bedside manner. As I stood up, though, I realized that I
would have to take care of something first. Namely, my appearance.
While I had not been much disposed to think about it during the past
two days, prolonged exposure to blood was not good for kimonos. I
didnÕt know what to do about it, though, because our horse, and
therefore our saddlebags, wasnÕt here. I looked at Mamoru, noting that
he was still asleep. Making a quick decision, I took another bar of soap
from the cupboard and almost skipped to the stream. Really, I have
never been this happy about the prospect of a bath in my life, I thought.
Having no fear of onlookers, I divested myself of my bloody clothes
and jumped in the stream. In the middle it was waist-high, and I was not
surprised at its pleasant temperature. I suppose if youÕre going to make
your ideal place, you donÕt make the water too cold. I swam around
happily for a while, imagining that I was some sort of sea nymph, with
my hair floating around me like a golden cloud. It had always been long,
of course, but for the first time I noticed particularly how long it  had
become. In fact, loose and wet, my hair now came down to the middle of
my thighs. After I realized this, I let out a shriek and splashed around
happily. It had been a childhood dream of mine to have hair so long I
could sit on it, and now I actually could. Of course, as a child I had been
under the impression that this would make me irresistible to guys, and
specifically princes. Actually, I amended with a smile, maybe I still did
think that. I splashed aimlessly for a few more minutes, and then
grabbed the soap. After I was done with my body, I pulled my kimono
into the stream with me, and tried to gently scrub away the blood.
Eventually, though, I knew that I would have to return to the cabin and
face Mamoru, if only because he needed me. I doubted that I had ever
felt more awkward in my life, though. I climbed out of the stream, making
an effort to squeeze most of the water out of my hair and air dry before I
put on the shift. Despite my efforts, it stuck to my wet body. I grit my
teeth in annoyance, but there was nothing else for me to wear, so I
supposed Mamoru was just going to get an eyeful. Maybe heÕll be
asleep, I thought hopefully as I draped the wet kimono and obi over the
porch railing.
	Of course I was not so lucky. I knew he was awake as soon as I
entered, because his head turned towards the door. I stopped in my
tracks as he looked at me, feeling completely exposed, emotionally as
well as physically. My saliva dried in my throat, and my lips remained
parted as if they had been painted with lacquer. Why was my heart
pounding like this over a stupid look? It was no longer a question of
*why* he did this to me, but *how*.
	ÒI wondered where you went,Ó he said in a weak voice, and I
tried to keep from running away and breaking down on the floor. Serena,
I told myself sternly, you have to stop this! But, I protested, I canÕt
stand to see him like this...I feel so awful. Which, I knew, was the most
useless argument in the world. I had to help him, and I couldnÕt do it if I
turned into an emotional basket case every time I saw him. Well, I could
turn into one, I just couldnÕt let him know about it. Thus fortified, I
smiled weakly and walked to the bed. Too bad that my legs felt like they
could barely support me. I was painfully aware of how my breasts clung
to the wet shift.
	ÒJust outside,Ó I finally managed to say. I noted that the
bandage needed changing again, and wondered how much blood loss
he could handle.
	ÒWhere are we?Ó he asked, ÒWhat happened?Ó I sighed and
sat down next to him.
	ÒLife, Mamoru,Ó I said philosophically, Òis very, very strange. I
cannot begin to understand it. But, I can try, at any rate.Ó He raised his
eyebrows a little at this statement, and I could have sung for joy. Oh,
how I loved those eyebrows! I loved the way he made fun of me, I loved
everything about him, especially because it meant that he would
recover.
	ÒSerena? What are you smiling at?Ó he questioned, and I
found myself blushing deeply. This was really extraordinarily awkward. I
looked away from him, and quickly told him everything that Petunia had
related the night before. I almost omitted all the bits about magic, but I
knew that he would find out eventually. I did dread his reaction, though.
	ÒSo, you mean that the Lady canÕt help us?Ó He said when I
finished. I nodded nervously. ÒAnd youÕre supposed to be the one to
fight the Kojin, because you have...magic?Ó He continued, and I nodded
again. ÒI canÕt say that I didnÕt suspect something,Ó he said after a
moment. He wasnÕt meeting my eyes, but he didnÕt look as though this
news made him dislike me. I wondered why I had been afraid of that.
	ÒSo, itÕs all right with you?Ó I questioned hopefully.
	This time he did meet my eyes, and smiled in a lopsided
fashion. ÒWeÕre partners in all this, remember? Of course IÕll help you,
once...once...Ó he looked away again, having reminded us both why we
were stuck here in the first place.
	ÒI almost died, didnÕt I?Ó he said, finally.
	I remembered that night with painful closeness and nodded
silently. ÒPetunia said youÕd be much better in a month or so...itÕs all the
time that she can really give us.Ó
	He smiled at me, and it conveyed such genuine gratitude that I
felt like passing out under the onslaught. What was wrong with me,
anyway? ÒThank you,Ó he said, ÒIÕm sorry that I put you through that.Ó
I looked away and stood up quickly, busying myself with mixing
PetuniaÕs herbs. Although he hadnÕt said anything, I knew that he was
still in a great deal of pain. Through the corner of my eye, I saw him
grimace when he thought I wasnÕt looking. I felt like screaming at him
for confusing me this much, but part of me also wanted to declare my
love and infinite devotion. I had had ample time to consider my
realization, and although I could not deny it, I was overwhelmed with its
stupidity. I knew perfectly well that he didnÕt love me, even if he had
kissed me. That was one incident in a sea of insults and contempt.
Honestly, the first words out of his mouth after that night of hell had
been Ôdumpling head.Õ Were those the words of a man in love? Hardly. I
really shouldnÕt care, I thought as I furiously diced a little of the
mandrake root that Petunia had told me to put in his food. I hated myself
for loving him and I hated him for doing it to me. So why was I crying? I
felt his eyes staring at my back curiously, but I was too angry and upset
to care. In my current state, it was no surprised when the sharp knife
missed the root entirely and sliced deeply into my finger. I cursed loudly
and eloquently, looking around for some water.
	ÒSerena? What did you just--Ò
	ÒDonÕt talk to me!Ó I snapped, forgetting that he had not been
privy to my internal monologue. Immediately I regretted my words. After
all, when it came right down to it, it wasnÕt his fault that I had fallen in
love with him. It wouldnÕt be right to blame him under any circumstance,
but especially not now.
	ÒWell, arenÕt we moody today, dumpling head?Ó
	Calm down, Serena, I told myself sternly. I turned around
slowly, aware of the stricken expression on my face but unable to do
anything about it.
	ÒIÕm sorry...IÕm just not used to this.Ó That had to be the
understatement of the century. I felt like I was being buried under
Mount Vesuvius.	His eyes were wide and I felt like I was falling into a
deep, inescapable well as I stared. ÒYou cut your hand,Ó he said finally.
	I looked at the offending finger curiously, as if it were not a
part of my body. I had completely forgotten about it. ÒThe knife slipped,
thatÕs all,Ó I said in a daze. A drop of blood fell to the floor and our
gazes locked. The dark blue of his eyes seared mine, searching, and
after a terrified moment I looked away. Unsure of what else to do, I gave
him the mixture silently. I had to ruthlessly suppress the strange mixture
of tenderness and self-consciousness that made my hands shake
tellingly. He said nothing, but I knew that he wanted to. Before he had
the opportunity, I fled the cabin, mumbling something about my kimono.
	My entire body tingled, but how I wished for simple
numbness.

	I tried to avoid such encounters over the next few days, but
that basically meant avoiding him, and as he grew stronger he grew
harder to evade. On the third day Petunia had still not returned, but I
knew that she was safe because of the bond between us. It felt strange,
like having a little person inside of you. I always vaguely knew what she
was thinking or feeling, so long as it had something to do with magic.
Not as though I thought about Petunia much during that time. My mind
was completely consumed with Mamoru, and not in the fashion you
would expect from a girl in love. No, I was completely preoccupied with
avoiding him, and trying to do so in a way that would not make him
suspicious. I should have known that it was doomed from the start.
	That morning I planned again to beat a hasty retreat after
breakfast, but something in MamoruÕs direct gaze made me suspect it
would be harder this time. As I headed for the door, his voice stopped
me in mid-step, and I froze, rigid and almost trembling. I had the
irrational fear that if I ever had a real conversation with him, all of my
emotions would come tumbling out uncontrollably. But I had known
that Mamoru would not accept such a situation for long. In fact, the
only reason I had escaped up until this point was his relative weakness.
	ÒWhy are you avoiding me?Ó he asked, and I felt his eyes bore
into my back.
	I turned around slowly, endeavoring to appear nonchalant, and
knowing that I failed miserably. ÒAvoiding you?Ó I said with a false
smile. ÒWhy would I do that?Ó
	He looked as though he wanted to cross his arms, but the
wound on his shoulder prevented that. Instead, he settled for a raised
eyebrow. ÒI donÕt know,Ó he said with his patented sarcasm, Òwhy donÕt
you tell me?Ó
	ÒIs it so improbable that a girl would not want to spend every
waking moment in your esteemed presence? Do you really think that
you are so irresistible?Ó I replied, taking refuge, as I had done so many
times before, in insults.
	He looked as if he were about to retort, but his expression
abruptly changed from sarcasm to suppressed pain. Completely
forgetting our argument, I ran to him. Sometimes it was so easy to forget
that he was hurt, and no matter how fast of healer he may be, it took
some time to recover from a wound like the one he had received. And
here I was, too worried about my own pride to take care of him properly.
I saved the guilt for later perusal, focusing on Mamoru. Without really
thinking about it, I put my hands on his bandaged midsection and
closed my eyes. Petunia had taught me this spell, although she had
warned me not to use it until he seemed noticeably stronger. It basically
acted like a magical anesthesia, numbing completely whatever area I
directed my thoughts towards. After a moment I felt him relax and the
ever-present smell of chocolate grew much stronger. I accepted the
inevitable and looked into his eyes, and felt the almost-familiar
sensation of vertigo. He gazed at me with amazement, and I sat down
abruptly on a chair that I placed beside his bed earlier.
	ÒWhat did you...Ó he said softly.
	ÒItÕs a spell Petunia taught me.Ó I looked at him and thought,
guiltily, of all the times he must have gone through this while I was
busy running away from him. Of course his pride had prevented him
from calling for help, so he must have mastered the pain by himself,
wondering why I had abandoned him.
	ÒIÕm sorry,Ó we said simultaneously. I looked at him in surprise.
What did he have to be sorry for?
	ÒI mean, I know this must be hard on you. IÕm just being
insensitive...I suppose IÕm just not used to being this helpless.Ó
	Now I really had to stare. A man admitting that he has been
insensitive? That in itself was a wonder, but in fact he was apologizing
for something that was distinctly my fault. And that only made me feel
worse about my recent behavior.
	ÒItÕs not...Ó I began, wondering what to say. This whole love
thing has really been reducing me to incoherence lately. ÒI mean...donÕt
worry about it. IÕm glad...IÕd do anything...Ó Looking at his confused
expression I took a deep breath and tried again. ÒI promised myself that
I would take care of you until you recovered. Because...because you
didnÕt die that night.Ó
	He looked at me for a moment, shocked, but then broke contact
abruptly. I wondered  how he would receive my statement: I was acutely
aware of how close I had come to telling him everything. But my
moment of fear passed as he smiled slowly, almost sadly.
	ÒDo you know,Ó he said, changing the subject entirely. I think
we were both relieved. ÒI know almost nothing about you?Ó
	ÒWhat are you--Ò I began, but he cut me off.
	ÒI mean, I know that you canÕt eat without spilling half of it on
yourself, and you have a habit of squealing when you get excited, but
what do I know about your life?Ó
	ÒYou want to know about my life?Ó I said skeptically,
wondering what he was driving at. ÒI assure you that itÕs not very
interesting...Ó
	ÒWell, you know about mine. DonÕt you think itÕs only fair?
Besides, itÕs not like weÕre in a hurry.Ó
	I sighed, but settled back in the chair with a smile on my face.
Despite my skepticism, this strange exercise of his appealed to me.
Maybe it was just the prospect of spending protracted periods of time
in his presence. I had avoided it like the plague up till now, but forced
with the prospect, I discovered that it was all I wanted to do.
	ÒSo, what do you want to know?Ó I asked.
	He smiled. ÒEverything.Ó
	I laughed a little. ÒWell, despite what you may think, my
childhood was not nearly so interesting as your own. IÕm sure it wonÕt
even take an hour.Ó
	ÒThen give me an entertaining hour, my dear.Ó
	ÒAnything for you, of course. Well...I donÕt know what is even
mildly interesting in my life, but IÕll try.Ó I paused, trying to think of
something.  ÒAll right,Ó I said, inexplicably fixating on one story in
particular, Òthis happened one Halloween when I was sixteen.Ó
	ÒHalloween?Ó Mamoru questioned.
	ÒOh, sorry. ItÕs a holiday from my world...people dress up in
costumes and go to door scaring goodies from the neighbors.Ó
	Mamoru stared at me incredulously. ÒNo wonder youÕre so
strange.Ó
	I smiled self-deprecatingly. ÒThatÕs not the half of it. Anyway,
on Halloween, people usually buy pumpkins and carve faces in them.
Pumpkins are...a large variety of squash,Ó I said before he could ask the
question. ÒSo, I had been pining away for a pumpkin for an entire week.
It was really crazy, I admit, how obsessed I was with the thing. I just had
to have a pumpkin. So on Halloween, I dragged my little brother out of
the house with me and walked all the way down to our local garden
store. Except, by that time, everyone else had bought all of the
pumpkins. I went out back, and saw that they had about two pumpkins
left. One was really small and half rotten, and the other was massive.
The only reason no one had bought it was because it was too
expensive. Now, my family didnÕt have a lot of money, but I was just
obsessed with this pumpkin. And the more I looked, the more I wanted.
It was huge, and beautiful. I fell in love with that pumpkin. I didnÕt care
that my family couldnÕt afford it. So, in that crazy moment of folly, I used
my momÕs credit card...I mean, I used her money to buy the pumpkin. IÕll
never forget when she came home, and saw my massive, beautiful
pumpkin sitting on the front porch. She turned to my brother and I and
asked, rather calmly I suppose, how much the pumpkin had cost. And I
told her. And she nodded, and looked at me, and said ÔWell, Serena, I
hope you like pumpkin as much as you say you do, because youÕre
going to be eating it for a long time.Õ I ate pumpkin every day for three
months! And even then I didnÕt finish it...my parentÕs eventually took
pity on me. Well, that and the fact that my complexion was turning a tad
orange. ItÕs strange. YouÕd think that an experience like that would make
me hate pumpkins forever, but...IÕve always wanted to get another one
like that. I think I just have a penchant for unhealthy fixations.Ó
	ÒThat was...fascinating,Ó he said after a moment.
	I looked up at his astounded expression and smiled. ÒI know,
you think IÕm crazy. CanÕt say that I blame you. Everyone thinks so,
after all. Lord, even my own parents did. I talked about unicorns and
dragons as if they were real. Do you know that I still think so? Of course
if this crazy situation proves anything, it proves that anything at all can
happen. I mean, the probability that I would meet you-- a man from
another world-- is astronomically slim, and yet here we are.Ó I stared at a
point beside his face, unwilling to meet his eyes. ÒI bet you wish IÕd
stayed where I was, huh? I know I havenÕt exactly been an asset on this
trip of yours. I think...IÕm just a little too inept to be of use to 
anyone.Ó
	I felt immediately embarrassed after saying that. Sometimes my
self-esteem level plummeted, and recent events had not exactly helped
matters. I blamed myself for MamoruÕs current condition, and my new
realization of my love made that guilt so much harder to bear.
	ÒSerena,Ó he said incredulously, Òwhat are you talking about?
YouÕve got to know how much youÕve helped me...with absolutely no
reason, as well. I know I am not as polite as I should be, but never
doubt...how much I appreciate you.Ó I looked away from him, blinking
furiously, wishing that he hadnÕt said that and hating myself for inviting
it. I hated when he was so nice to me, but especially now. I clenched my
fists tightly, scrunching my face to hold back the inevitable tears. My
emotions were so hopelessly jumbled that I barely knew what to think. I
was only sure that every time he spoke, he undid me. Despite my
efforts, the tears seeped out of my recalcitrant lids, leaving salty tracks
on my cheeks.
	ÒSerena,Ó he said, alarm in his voice. In a completely
unexpected move he gripped my hand tightly, and my gaze
inadvertently locked with his. My breath stopped. ÒWhat is it? Did I say
something?Ó
	ÒNo,Ó I said, voice shaking. ÒNo,Ó I repeated, much louder this
time and wrenched my hand away from. It seemed that, unsure of what
emotion to feel, I had settled on the easiest: anger. I stood up forcefully,
knocking the chair over in the process. He stared up at me in surprise
and confusion. I supposed relations between us would be considerably
better if I werenÕt such an emotional basket case, but it takes time to get
over a lifetime of practice.
	ÒHow...how can you possibly say that you...*appreciate* me?Ó
I spluttered angrily. ÒI mean, you may think youÕre fooling me, but the
only person youÕre fooling is yourself. No matter what else I may be, IÕm
not stupid, Mamoru. I know...I know...it was my fault. What happened
was my fault.Ó
	ÒWhat are you--Ò he began, and there was a strangely pained
expression on his face.
	ÒJust tell me, Mamoru. How did it...how did you get hurt?Ó
	I didnÕt want to ask the question; I donÕt know why I did.
Perhaps it was a morbid masochistic desire-- I was already almost
positive that I knew what had happened. Why did I need confirmation?
But perhaps I just needed to know the truth, no matter how much it hurt.
But, once said, I couldnÕt take it back. After a moment, I saw
understanding dawn on his face.
	ÒThereÕs no point in torturing yourself like this, Serena. Please,
donÕt make me...Ó
	ÒJust *say it*!Ó I said, with such intensity that he dropped his
gaze. ÒTell me what happened. Tell me how much you appreciate me.Ó
My whisper held anger I didnÕt know I possessed and pain I didnÕt
suspect I could feel.
	ÒI donÕt want to do this, Serena. I never would have told you if
you hadnÕt forced me; remember that.Ó I nodded slowly, and forced my
wet eyes to meet his disturbed ones. At the very least I would accept
my poison bravely.
	ÒI knew I didnÕt have much hope of escape. But, I doubted you
would leave when I told you to. I know how stubborn you are. I just
hoped that you would get yourself someplace safe. Even after I
engaged, I had to wonder where you were.Ó
	ÒSo, you mean that you were distracted,Ó I prompted, with as
close an approximation of coldness as I could muster.
	ÒNo, I didnÕt say that,Ó he began to protest, but then sighed in
defeat. ÒPerhaps a little. It took me seconds to realize that my death was
a foregone conclusion. I could only hold out as long as possible, and
pray that you would get away safely. IÕm not quite sure when this
happened, I didnÕt have a clear sense of time, but I heard this
bloodcurdling scream, and I saw you leaping out of  this  tree. I admit
that I had never expected that from you. I was surprised, and I guess
that made me forget the first rule of fighting: never lose sight of your
opponent. He...he hadnÕt forgotten it himself, apparently. ThatÕs how it
happened.Ó His hands were clenched futilely, his countenance
frustrated and angry. I thought of and discarded a hundred things to
say as I stood there. My anger had drained from me, leaving only the
bitterest pain. I suppose I had hoped that it wasnÕt true.
	Suddenly I grew aware that I could not handle another single
minute in the cabin. I sprinted outside, running blindly through the trees
to the stream. Once there, I knelt in my kimono, hands clenched over my
stomach. Tears coursing almost redundantly down my face, I bent over
the stream and proceeded to violently purge my stomach, wishing I
could similarly purge my guilt.
	Nothing was easy anymore. But then, when had it ever been?

	The thing most commonly forgotten about clichŽs is that they
have their foundation in bare fact. While I usually strive for original
thinking, there are things that will never be said better than they were
the first time around, and this is a prime example: when it rains, it pours.
And it was most assuredly pouring in my life. My only regret was that
Petunia had not seen fit to make it rain on her little dream island. Then,
even the weather could have reflected my mood. I fell asleep by the
stream, and by the time I awoke, the sun was already setting. I walked
slowly back to the cabin, wondering if I should apologize to Mamoru for
being such a bully earlier that day. Of course, I wondered if it would just
be easier to forget about the whole thing altogether. I was saved from
such decisions, however, when I walked inside and found Mamoru
asleep. There was something about the way he lay there that felt
strange, but I forgot about it, relieved just to have avoided him. I walked
softly inside, pulled up a chair to the table in the small kitchen area and
plopped down dejectedly. As I sat there, I saw dinner appear before me,
but I was not inclined to eat at all. I saw a bowl of something resembling
soup that I assumed was meant for Mamoru. I assumed this because it
did not look extremely appetizing. I looked at the latter, an expression of
sympathy incipient on my face when I realized that something was
wrong with him. I stood up quickly and went to the bed. His face, I saw,
was covered in sweat, but he was shivering. I put my hand on his
forehead, feeling overwhelmed and distinctly out of my depth. He was
burning with a fever, and I immediately feared the worst; Petunia had
said that the thing we needed to watch out for most during the first
week was infection. This seemed like a vindication of my worst fears. It
would, of course, have to happen after our huge fight. Frantically, I ran
to the cupboard where Petunia kept her salves, trying to remember
which ones she had told me to use. After a moment of blind panic, I
remembered, and grabbed two small jars. As gently as I could, I took off
the bandages. When I forced myself to look at the wound, though, I
breathed a sigh of heartfelt relief. While I was by no means an expert, it
did not look infected. That meant that the fever must have stemmed
from a more benign source. Still, I conscientiously cleaned the wound
and re-bandaged it, not wanting to take any chances. It was disturbing
that he hadnÕt awoken during that entire process. He only stirred,
muttering vaguely. I looked at him wondering what on earth I could do. I
knew next to nothing about medicine, and the only thing I ever did for a
fever was take a couple of asprin. I needed Petunia-- that much was
clear. I gently probed our bond, wondering how to go about contacting
her. I sensed her ignoring me, so I tugged more insistently, demanding
her attention. Her response was so surprising that I stumbled
backwards, tripping over my own feet and landing on my butt.
	ÒYes?Ó I heard her unmistakable voice snap, perfectly clear
inside of my head. How did she always catch me off guard like this,
anyway?
	ÒI...need help,Ó I said aloud, wondering if she could hear me.
	ÒObviously, my dear. Tell me have you and Mamoru gotten
anywhere yet?Ó
	ÒG-gotten anywhere?Ó I stuttered, tipped off balance once
again. ÒTh-thatÕs none of your business.Ó
	ÒAll right, no need to be rude. I just wanted to help, thatÕs all.
You two have been so dreadfully slow about it.Ó
	I chose to ignore the comment. Who would have known that
Petunia was a closet matchmaker? ÒListen, Mamoru has high fever and I
donÕt know what to do. ItÕs not an infection...at least I donÕt think so.Ó
	ÒI donÕt suppose you know any herb lore?Ó
	ÒNo, nothing.Ó
	ÒChildren really are getting such a lacking education these
days,Ó she clucked. ÒThen, thereÕs really only one other option. How
strong is he, you think?Ó
	ÒMuch better than at first. HeÕs a fast healer.Ó
	I felt her nod. ÒYouÕll have to use magic. You have to
understand that the healing arts are...dangerous. Some even classify
them under the dark arts. If Mamoru werenÕt so weak, he would have to
sit out this fever on his own. Unfortunately, doing that may kill him. So,
as a healer, all you can do is transfer sickness or pain from one to
another. You can mitigate the effects, but not remove them. Do you
understand?Ó
	ÒSo... you mean that the only way to heal Mamoru is to take
his fever myself?Ó I said slowly, putting her explanation together.
	I felt her satisfaction. ÒYes, exactly. I have to warn you,
though. In transfers like these, the receiver often bears the brunt of it.
Especially because you canÕt use any large magic, otherwise Herman
will detect the place. That means you will take everything on yourself.
But, Serena, you must be *very* careful not to heal either of his
wounds. That is a completely different realm of healing, and if you do
so, you may kill yourself. Not to mention it would be the equivalent of
lighting firecrackers in HermanÕs backyard.Ó
	ÒHow will I know?Ó This conversation made me feel more afraid
than I had to begin with. Petunia seemed to love doing this to me.
	ÒYou shouldnÕt have any trouble distinguishing the two, in
fact. IÕm telling you this because I know that you will be tempted to heal
him completely, and you simply cannot do that.Ó
	ÒAll right.Ó I nodded. ÒShow me the spell.Ó In the same way
that she had taught me the previous spells, I felt what I had to do rather
than formally learning it.
	ÒThe earliest I can come is in about a week,Ó she said after we
finished. ÒKeep me posted.Ó And with that her presence vanished
resolutely from my mind. I opened my eyes, and looked up at Mamoru
who still had not awakened. I was almost terrified to do this, aware of
how many things could go wrong, but I also knew that I had to. I stood
up, and once again walked to MamoruÕs side. The news that I could
practice magic hadnÕt exactly been a surprise to me-- even back on my
world I had wondered. But I knew that I was still an amateur, and in my
hands I held MamoruÕs life and our safety. To say that I did not
appreciate the burden would be an understatement. Yet...perhaps if I did
this part of my ever-present guilt would be assuaged. A sort of
reciprocal sacrifice. That in mind, I closed my eyes and placed my hands
gently on his torso. Then I entered his body.

	It was in interesting process, not quite ÒFantastic Voyage,Ó nor
a CAT scan. While mostly indescribable, I really existed within him. I did
not have a clear vision of his internal organs, of course. But I could
sense how they worked together, how the system functioned. Which
was how I could tell what was wrong. Petunia was right; the fever was
patently different from his wounds. The fever seemed to cover
everything with a smoky gray haze. His wound was...just that, an awful
red gash that tinged everything with bright blue tendrils of pain. It took
repeated reminders for me to ignore that. Inside him, it seemed so easy
to just take care of everything, but PetuniaÕs warning still rang clear
inside of my head and I refrained. Instead, I concentrated as Petunia had
shown me, and proceeded to suck every speck of the gray dust into
myself. There was far more than I had expected, and I saw that if it had
remained, Mamoru would have died. I burned as it went in, existing in a
state very near agony. I refused to stop though, forcing myself past the
pain as I had so many times before. I would be very sick, I realized,
before the fever broke. I released him very quickly after that, because I
realized that I was about to pass out. As I opened my eyes slowly I fell
to my knees, holding my pounding head in my hands. My vision was
white around the edges, making everything look surreal. I glanced up at
Mamoru through the haze, and satisfied that he would be okay, half
crawled, half dragged myself to the other bed. I passed out almost as
soon as my head hit the pillow.

	I awoke sometime in the middle of the night, shivering
uncontrollably although I felt sweat beading on my forehead. I wanted
nothing more than to crawl deeper under the covers and pass out again,
but instead I opened my eyes with incredible effort. In the moonlight I
saw how Mamoru was awake, staring blankly up at the ceiling. At least
heÕs all right, I thought, and fell asleep again.

	I have had my fair share of illnesses in my life. I even had my
appendix removed in an emergency surgery...the day before my prom.
My period has never been exactly a barrel of laughs either. But I never,
during all that time, felt worse than I did that morning. My throat was so
sore that I practically couldnÕt swallow. My head wasnÕt stuffed with
tissue paper, it was stuffed with liquid cement. My ears pounded, my
back ached, my stomach clenched ominously and I couldnÕt have been
colder walking naked in Antarctica. Despite this I sat up, and promptly
fell back down again, overcome with dizziness and nausea. If only I had
asked Petunia how I was supposed to manage to take care of Mamoru in
this state. What I wouldnÕt give for modern medicine!
	ÒIÕm sorry Mamoru,Ó I croaked. ÒIÕll be up...in a second.Ó My
teeth chattered around the words, and I gripped my knees in a desperate
bid for warmth.
	ÒItÕs okay, this little guy was helping me out. He said his name
is Mortimer.Ó
	ÒMortimer?Ó I questioned. With magnificent effort I looked
across the cabin, and saw that Mamoru had indeed befriended a kitchen
demon. The latter gave me a cheeky grin that revealed three or four rows
of tiny, pointed teeth. In fact, the demon looked far more like my
conception of a gnome than a tiny devil with horns. I wondered why he
had revealed himself for Mamoru, but then decided that my brain hurt
far too much to think.
	ÒHe says youÕre really sick. Are you?Ó
	I looked at him with an expression as close to sarcasm as I
could muster. ÒWhat do you think, buddy?Ó I said, my voice grating
harshly. The effect was ruined, however, by a loud series of sneezes.
Could he really have no recollection of what happened last night? He
hadnÕt been conscious during most of it, though, so there was no
reason why he should.
	ÒYou sure look sick,Ó he said, and his voice was gratifyingly
worried. ÒAre you going to be all right? ItÕs funny, I was feeling sick
yesterday, but now I feel fine.Ó
	ÒImagine that,Ó I muttered. I suppose that I could have told him
what I did, but not only did it require too much effort, it just didnÕt seem
right. I didnÕt want his gratitude. It was enough that he felt better. Well,
thatÕs what I told myself, at least.
	ÒHe says you healed me,Ó Mamoru said after a moment.
	ÒHow are you talking to this fellow, anyway?Ó I asked in
annoyance. If he already knew, why did he bother asking what was
wrong with me?
	He smiled mysteriously. ÒI have my ways.Ó
	I grunted, letting him know what I thought of that idea. ÒFine.
You guys can fart at each other for all I care. Right now, I have every
intention of--Ò I stopped abruptly, acutely aware of my stomach.
Quickly, I threw off the covers and fell onto the floor. Half stumbling, I
made it to the door in time and proceeded to hurl my guts out for the
second time in two days.

	 ÒI thought I gave up drinking,Ó I muttered half an hour later,
preparing for another dry heave. After a few minutes, though, it
appeared as though I was finally finished. Shaking in exhaustion and
cold, I stumbled back inside, trying to ignore MamoruÕs concerned
presence. I didnÕt make it to the bed, collapsing to the floor. I hadnÕt
passed out, I was simply too exhausted to move.
	ÒSerena!Ó Mamoru said in alarm.
	ÒNo,Ó I muttered into the floor. ÒIÕm okay...hold on.Ó I tried to
sit up slowly, but even that effort failed. I felt something poke my
shoulder, and I turned around, only to find myself disturbingly close to
MortimerÕs craggy face. Around me, the other kitchen demons
materialized, bearing their teeth in what I hoped passed for a charming
smile. Unceremoniously they picked me up; for three foot tall gnomes,
they had a remarkable strength. They put me gently on the bed, and
pulled the covers back over my shaking form.
	ÒMortimer says he will take care of you,Ó Mamoru said as I
closed my eyes.
	I smiled. ÒYou guys really are farting at each other.Ó It was the
last thing I said for a while.

	I awoke at indeterminate times, aroused by one kitchen demon
or another. They made me drink water, which I promptly threw up the
first few times, but eventually it stayed down. They also gave me some
concoction that cleared my head a bit and reduced my fever. At first I
asked about Mamoru, but then I understood that they had taken over
my duties for the time. I wondered why Petunia had even bothered
showing me half the stuff she did when she had such competent kitchen
demons. I did suspect, though, that it had a great deal to do with
misguided matchmaking. When I finally awoke fully, the sun was
beating down upon my eyelids. I marveled, because I no longer felt like
crap, although I felt incredibly weak. I sat up gingerly, and was pleased
to notice that my joints had stopped aching. I smiled, and looked across
to MamoruÕs bed, and almost screamed out loud when I saw that he
wasnÕt there. I stood up, and promptly fell back down again, my legs
feeling about as strong as spaghetti.
	ÒBe careful, your fever just broke this morning,Ó a voice that
sounded suspiciously like MamoruÕs said.
	I swiveled my head, and saw him sitting in a chair by the
kitchen table. ÒDonÕt scare me like that! How did you get there,
anyway?Ó
	ÒYouÕve been semi-conscious for the past four days, Serena.
IÕm a fast healer.Ó
	Now that I looked, he really did seem much better. Then the
real import of what he had just said sunk in. ÒIÕve been out for *four*
days?Ó
	He grimaced. ÒYeah, it was pretty bad for a while. WeÕre lucky
the lady had these little guys around.Ó
	ÒWho wouldÕve thought.Ó
	ÒAnyway, you should get some rest.Ó
	ÒIÕve been sleeping for four days! ShouldnÕt that be enough?Ó
	ÒIf you had seen yourself, maybe you wouldnÕt think so,Ó he
said quietly.
	I really must have scared him, I thought in surprise. Then, my
stomach forcefully asserted its presence, letting out a growl even
Mamoru could hear. ÒHmm...IÕll go back to sleep after I eat, okay?Ó I
stood up, and this time I was a little steadier on my feat, not like that
says much. I wobbled to the kitchen table, grateful that the chair caught
my fall. Although I had only walked across the room, I felt like I had run
a marathon. Even as I looked at the table, breakfast food of every sort
appeared, including, against all probability, a tall stack of pancakes with
what looked to be genuine maple syrup.
	ÒWhat is this stuff?Ó Mamoru asked.
	I shook my head in disbelief. ÒWhere does Petunia come up
with it, anyway? ItÕs food from my world.Ó I picked up the carefully
placed knife and fork and dug heartily into the pancakes, syrup dripping
down my chin.
	Mamoru chuckled softly. ÒWell, at least I know you donÕt eat
any better on your world than mine.Ó I smiled and flicked some syrup at
him. ÒSeriously, though, Serena,Ó he said, and I turned to him. I wished
that he wouldnÕt look like that; I was tired of serious conversations
between us. They always seemed to end in tears.
	ÒI have to thank you for what you did. It was...hard, knowing
that I was responsible for making you that sick.Ó
	There was a moment when I did not know how to react, when I
could have done a number of things, none of which would have solved
our problem. Instead, I smiled. ÒWell, then, why donÕt we call it even? I
donÕt feel guilty about the fight, and you donÕt feel guilty about making
me sick. I...I think itÕs safe to say that we both had our reasons.Ó
	He smiled gratefully. ÒI suppose so.Ó
	ÒNow, how about a pancake?Ó

	So, we existed in the previously unknown state of amicable
sociability. Mamoru steadily improved, and with the coerced help of the
kitchen gods-- it seemed that they were under orders not to help if I
could-- I took care of him. We talked, and joked, and this time I managed
to tell him strange stories of my childhood without degenerating into
argument. He, in turn, told me of how he learned to fight at a temple with
military monks and the years he spent wandering the country as a
masterless swordsman. I regained my strength quickly, and I began to
get an acute sense of cabin fever. After all of the running I had done for
the past few months, just sitting all day made me want to scream. So, I
began to go outside every morning and practice Tae Kwon Do. I had
not done it in so long that I wondered if I had forgotten everything, but
an intense two hour session proved that I was not totally devoid of
talent. One day, perhaps three weeks after our arrival in PetuniaÕs apple-
grove idyll, I was perpetrating some particularly ferocious attacks on an
unknown assailant. In order to have some freedom of movement, IÕd
taken to wearing simply my shift and a pair of MamoruÕs pants that tied
around my waist with a string. I was in the middle of a flying reverse
kick when I heard his voice, improbably, from the doorway.
	ÒYou know, you really ought to extend your leg more, and
youÕre kicking with the wrong part of the foot.Ó I was so surprised that I
lost my balance, and landed firmly on my butt, rather than my feet.
	ÒMamoru!Ó I said angrily. ÒWhat are you doing out here?Ó He
was holding onto the door frame, and I could only imagine what it took
for him to make it this far.
	ÒI wanted to see what you were doing.Ó He didnÕt say it, but I
realized that he must have been experiencing cabin fever far more acute
than my own. After all, he still couldnÕt move around without help.
Making a quick decision, I stood up and walked to the door. I put his
arm over my shoulder, and helped him down the porch stairs, to a nice
looking tree on the edge of a clearing. It took some effort, but eventually
he managed to sit down in a relatively comfortable position, his back
against the tree.
	ÒHope youÕre happy,Ó I said, wiping the sweat off of my
forehead. He did, in fact, look about as unrestrained as I had ever seen
him. Determined to finish up my workout, I went back to my faceless
opponent. It was much more difficult this time, however, because
Mamoru kept correcting me and making snide comments about my
technique. This, of course, made me get even worse, and when I tripped
over my feet for the third time, I growled in frustration.
	ÒHow do you know all of this, anyway?Ó I snapped, sitting in
front of him.
	He smiled superciliously. ÒIÕve just studied under some of the
most brilliant fighting masters in Umeru.Ó
	ÒWell, itÕs good to know that youÕre modest.Ó
	ÒActually, Serena, IÕm pretty impressed. I never would have
suspected a girl as clumsy as you had it in her.Ó
	ÒIÕll take that as a compliment, Mamo-chan.Ó I hadnÕt had a
chance to use the term he so hated in a while.
	He glowered at me. ÒAs you should, of course. What possible
reason would I have to make fun of you?Ó
	And as is characteristic of the mature person that I am, I stuck
my tongue out at him.

	An often forgotten corollary to Òwhen it rains, it pours,Ó is
Òafter a good pouring, you get some remarkably pretty flowers.Ó
Everything in my life improved at such an exponential rate that I
wondered if some god had taken pity on me. Mamoru recovered quickly.
His shoulder was completely healed after four weeks, and he could walk
unassisted. He had to be very careful, and he would always have a scar,
but compared to our first night here, we were living in paradise. And so
I suppose that I was acutely aware of its transience. This had to end
very soon; no matter how happy we were here, the events that we had
left behind on Umeru were still waiting for us. I figured that we at leas
had a week left. While Mamoru could walk, he couldnÕt do much more
than that, and if the rest of this adventure mirrored the first part, he
would need all of his faculties. While I never consciously thought this, I
suppose I planned to make as much of the week as I could.
	One morning, along with breakfast, a strange wooden box
appeared. It vaguely resembled a cigar box, in fact, and I stared at it
curiously.
	ÒWhat is that?Ó I asked past my food. Mamoru silently lifted
the box and fingered the sheets of parchment beneath it.
	ÒHow did Mortimer know...Ó he said softly, his fingers almost
caressing the objects.
	ÒYou mind telling me what is going on here?Ó I asked in
exasperation. Mamoru looked lost in an entire other world, though. He
shook his head, then looked up at me and smiled apologetically.
	ÒYou want to go outside?Ó he asked.
	I shook my head. ÒI have to wash clothes.Ó Honestly, who had
ever heard of such mundane tasks on an epic adventure, anyway? But
IÕd gotten my period again, and the rest of the laundry could be put off
no longer.
	ÒWhy canÕt Mortimer and the others do it?Ó
	I shook my head. ÒAlthough you persist in not informing me
how you speak to them, I have determined that they are bound to this
house literally. They canÕt go past the clearing. Whenever I finish IÕll sit
outside with you.Ó
	He nodded, looking eagerly at the strange box and paper. ÒSo
what is it?Ó I asked again.
	He smiled. ÒYouÕll see.Ó He stood up slowly, and grabbing the
mysterious objects, walked outside. Muttering about men in general and
Mamoru in particular, I gathered the laundry and went out back.

	Laundry machines are beautiful things. Try washing all of your
clothes by hand one day and youÕll see what I mean. I returned to the
cabin three hours later, arms aching, fingers pruned and half soaked.
After I hung everything out to dry on the balcony, I collapsed in front
of Mamoru. I was rather peeved because the latter had only glanced at
me as I staggered into the clearing, letting out half a muttered word of
greeting. It appeared that the box contained a paint set and an array of
brushes. In his lap Mamoru had one piece of parchment, placed on a
wooden board for support. He was working intently, I could see,
dipping his brush into the various colors and cleaning in a bowl of
water.
	ÒWhat are you doing?Ó I asked. Beside him were several
discarded scraps of parchment, torn into shreds.
	ÒPainting,Ó he said tersely.
	I suppose there was nothing else he could be doing, but it still
shocked me. Painting and Mamoru seemed about as unrelated as myself
and common sense. Painting required a romantic soul, and however
much I loved Mamoru, I knew that he had buried his deeply.
	ÒWhat are you painting?Ó There was something nagging at the
back of my head, an event I knew I should remember but couldnÕt.
	He looked at me and raised his eyebrows. ÒWhy are you so
curious? YouÕll see when I finish it.Ó He began painting again, but
within seconds started to curse. ÒItÕs been too long since I last did
this.Ó he said, ripping up yet another piece and adding it to the pile.
	He has fallen away from that beauty, I thought, suddenly.
Where did that come from? I felt as though I had an itch in my head,
which no amount of scratching could dislodge. I knew it was important,
though. The last time this happened, I ended up naked in the middle of a
city. I gave up the exercise as useless eventually. Mamoru wasnÕt
inclined to talk to me, he also refused to show me what he was working
on, and I figured that it couldnÕt be that important. The next few days
continued like that. Mamoru would rush outside-- for the better light, he
said-- and sit down until it grew dark, painting. And every day he would
use up all the new sheets of parchment that appeared on the breakfast
table, and by dinner they would all be in shreds. He would sit down
dejectedly, and eat, vowing to get it right the next day. For my part, I
was forced to suppress my curiosity about his little project. Instead, I
noticed that his movements were getting much easier. We would have
to leave any day, now. I hadnÕt contacted Petunia in over a week, in a
vain effort to save off the inevitable. I still felt like something had to
happen between us. We were friendlier now than we ever had been, but
there was still this strange barrier. He was such an intense person;
sometimes I wondered if those looks he gave me did indicate a deeper
affection than friendship. But I was too afraid of my own feelings, let
alone his, to delve into it too much. It was much easier to remain at a
comfortable distance, no matter how much a part of me wanted his love.
	The day before we left-- although I didnÕt know it at the time--
at first resembled every other day that week. I practiced Tae Kwon Do,
blissfully unharassed because all of MamoruÕs attention was focused
on his painting. There was something unusual about him today, though.
He seemed, if anything, more intense, and he had still not discarded the
piece of parchment he started upon this morning. He worked constantly,
only pausing to wipe his forehead of the beaded sweat that
accumulated there. I had a feeling he only did that so it would not drip
into the painting. I knew that Mamoru was an intense person, but this
seemed otherworldly. Eventually I gave up all pretense of practicing-- it
wasnÕt really fun without the harassment anyway-- and dropped in front
of him. I knew from experience that interrupting him like this would only
earn me a tirade, but I was content to simply watch him. I loved the way
his brow furrowed in concentration, and the way he licked his lips when
he decided what brush stroke to make next. I sat there for what must
have been hours, memorizing and treasuring his every feature, but he
barely noticed me. I say he barely noticed me, but he did look at me
quite frequently. But it was almost as though I were some painting
myself, and he were appreciating me feature by feature. I was not a
human to him, but an interesting sort of project. When the sun began to
dip below the horizon I wondered if I should tell him to stop. Yet, I had
the curious sensation that I would be interrupting genius if I did, so
instead I stood on stiff legs and walked inside the cabin. I took one of
the oil lamps and brought it outside to him. He barely acknowledged the
favor, but then, I hadnÕt expected him to. He worked perhaps two hours
after that, and I sat with him, at times dozing off. I knew the moment he
was finished, because he put his brush down, leaned his head back on
the tree and sighed as though the world had been lifted from his
shoulders. I reached tentatively for the painting, and since he didnÕt
stop me, I turned it around.
	And received one of the greatest shocks of my life. It was a
picture of me, dressed in the same pink kimono, leaning against a
gnarled apple tree, with one apple in my hand. I was laughing up at
something, and the dappled light left patterns on my long, disheveled
hair. That, however, was not the shock. The moment I looked at the
painting I realized what I had been trying to remember for the past
several days. I recognized the painting, because I recognized the
painter. The fifteen year old painter who Petunia had known so long
ago. The one who was twenty five now. The one who had not painted
since this moment, who for some reason had painted me.
	ÒI canÕt believe it,Ó I whispered.
	He sat up and smiled at me. ÒDo you like it?Ó He said softly,
grabbing my hand and staring frankly into my eyes.
	ÒI...I...Ó I could not form a coherent sentence. I was overcome
with a number of things, not the least of which was how desperately I
loved this man. What did this gaze mean, this almost carelessly placed
hand of his? He spared me the pain of answering, though. In a smooth,
almost practiced motion, he leaned down on top of me, his shining eyes
hovering an inch above mine.
	ÒDo you want this?Ó he asked, one arm wrapped around my
body, gently stroking my hair with his other hand.
	There are many methods of consent, not all of them verbal.
Trembling uncontrollably, I put my hand gently behind his head and
closed the gap between us. And that was all the answer he needed. In
the moment before our lips met I spared myself a moments worry that he
was not well enough to do this. Then we kissed and all extraneous
thoughts were eradicated. I melted into him, genuinely unaware of
where my body ended and his began. What ensued then was practically
inevitable, the event that had been destined to happen from our first
meeting.
	And then, it was so much more than that.

	We lay naked, encircled in the otherÕs arms, staring up at the
night sky. The balmy night air seemed to encase us like the lightest of
pillows and the crickets provided appropriate accompaniment to what
was, at the time, the single greatest event of my life. Neither of us had
uttered the dreaded words, but for that night at least I was confident in
his love. He kissed my forehead gently, a gesture containing far more
tenderness than erotic desire. I let my tears trickle into his chest, and I
knew he felt them, but he didnÕt comment. I raised my hand to trace his
scar slowly-- it was still pink with new-grown skin, but already ridged.
	ÒIs it ugly?Ó he asked quietly, and his breath tickled my ear.
	ÒNo,Ó I said, having lost all ability with pretense, ÒyouÕre
beautiful.Ó
	He paused for a moment, and the bright moons reflected in his
eyes. His slightly overlong hair fell around his eyes, and I saw
concentration in them. I was so engaged in my contemplation, that I felt
surprised when he finally spoke.
	ÒI watched your bright smile
	Beneath the old apple tree
	And felt my mind soar
	Imagining you with me
	Beneath silver lighted moons.Ó
	[AN: This verse form is called a waka, which was very popular
in court culture Japan. The basic pattern of syllables is 5-7-5-7-7. I also
made this one up.]
	ÒMamoru,Ó I breathed, intellectually appreciating the
spontaneous poem even as my body tingled with the emotion. I kissed
him gently, and his lips trailed to my collarbone, eliciting a gasp.
	The second time we kissed, gentleness vanished, replaced by
something far more insistent.
	Not like I had problems with insistence.

	We watched the perfect dawn together, his strong arms
wrapped gently around my stomach. I had to fight back tears as I
watched the sun rise. I somehow knew that this day would change
everything. Impermanence is life, and I had already experienced one
night of perfection. The sun won the fight, like I had known it would. As
if on cue, Mamoru disengaged himself gently.
	ÒÕTis day, what though it be? Oh, wilt thou therefore rise from
me?Ó I quoted softly. [AN: John Donne, for all interested.]
	ÒWhat?Ó he asked, retrieving his scattered clothes.
	I stared at his butt and smiled. No matter what happened to me
now, I could always look back on this moment and know that I did
something fantastic at least once. ÒNothing,Ó I said, standing. I
suppose, under different circumstances, I might have been embarrassed
about showing him my naked body in broad daylight. As it was, I barely
noticed his raised eyebrow. Exhibitionism has a strange habit of
growing on you. I dressed silently, and then walked over to MamoruÕs
painting. With the better lighting, I felt overwhelmed with how
incredible it was. The painting in PetuniaÕs foyer lacked the sheer
maturity of this one. There was a depth of emotions conveyed in every
brush stroke that took my breath away. Mamoru walked behind me and
put his hands gently on my shoulders.
	ÒI had wondered if I could still do that. I havenÕt painted in
such a long time.Ó
	ÒSince your mother?Ó I asked.
	He started, and then relaxed. ÒYes, I suppose so. ThereÕs no
point painting when your entire life is an emotional void.Ó
	At his words I wanted nothing more than to turn around and
take all of his clothes off again. I was acutely aware of how little time we
had, though. Instead, I turned around and walked into the cabin. As
soon as I stepped inside I knew that something was drastically wrong.
Half of breakfast was on the table, but bowls had been knocked over in
a fashion completely unlike the conscientious kitchen demons. Mamoru
stood beside me in the doorway, and his expression mirrored my own
dread.
	ÒMortimer...the kitchen demonÕs are gone,Ó he said flatly.
	 ÒBut, how could they have left? TheyÕre bound to this place.
The only way they can leave is if someone releases...Ó I trailed off,
feeling something I should have sensed long before. There was, ever so
faintly, another presence of magic, here. It was not my own or PetuniaÕs,
which meant it must be...
	ÒPeppermint,Ó Mamoru said softly. ÒI smell peppermint.Ó I
gripped his hand in something close to terror. No matter how much I
had anticipated this, now that Herman was upon us I wanted to cower in
a corner and cry.
	ÒWhere is he, Serena?Ó Mamoru asked urgently.
	I took a deep breath and tried to feel the presence again. ÒHeÕs
close. I can tell that he has almost found this place...Petunia is
confusing him. ThatÕs the only thing keeping him off.Ó
	ÒWe have to leave.Ó
	ÒBut how?Ó
	ÒHow did we get here?Ó
	I paused, thinking. Mamoru was right, but where could we
possibly go? Was there anyplace safe from the Kojin? My mind was so
consumed with panic that there was no room for rational thought.
	ÒSerena!Ó I heard PetuniaÕs strained voice enter my head with
such force that I fell against Mamoru. ÒYou have to get out of there! I
canÕt keep Herman away much longer.Ó
	ÒBut where--Ò
	ÒUse your *brain* child! Remember what I told you about the
spell books? Go back to your world and get them. You donÕt have much
time...hurry, go! You know the spell, use it!Ó
	She was right, I did know the spell, and I felt how close Herman
was.
	ÒSerena,Ó Mamoru was saying, Òwho are you talking to?Ó
	ÒPetunia,Ó I answered, turning to him. ÒWeÕve got to leave.
Hold on to me, and pray.Ó Through the door, in the clearing, I saw a
flash of light followed by the appearance of a group of disoriented men.
At their head was Ushiro. As I stared, I realized that we had forgotten
something that I absolutely refused to leave without. I ripped myself out
of MamoruÕs grasp and dashed toward the group of men, praying that
this would work. I grabbed the painting, and turned around in a quick
motion, ignoring MamoruÕs indignant shouts. He ran forward to meet
me, and I catapulted into him, closely followed by Ushiro and his raised
sword. I closed my eyes quickly and began the spell even as Mamoru
staggered backwards. I felt the spell gain momentum with the power of
my desperation and we faded as Ushiro caught up with us.
	ÒEarth,Ó I gasped, as we neared the nether area. Unfortunately,
I needed the name of someone in my world to locate the spell, and I
couldnÕt think of anyone. I knew that Mina was out-- I needed to go
home, not Hawaii. A second longer and Herman would pull us back into
Umeru, though. With a sense of dread I uttered the one name that I
could remember, and wished most fervently that I could forget.
	ÒHarvey.Ó

	I materialized out of thin air in the middle of Cluck-U Chicken
with a man from another world who had, against all probability, become
my lover. Well, I thought philosophically, at least we werenÕt naked. I
looked at Mamoru, and then amended my statement.
	At least *I* wasnÕt naked.

************************************************

Oh, didnÕt you like that? I finally turned the tables on our poor, little,
beleaguered heroine. Hehe, what can you say? Mamoru had it coming
to him. Anyway, about this story in general, I figured out how many
books it will have! Unless something strange happens, there will be a
total of eight books to Fantasy, or maybe seven books and an epilogue
or something...anyway, you get what I mean. This also means that we
are nearing the home stretch! Soon, all of your questions will be
answered, the guy will get the girl (eventually, and donÕt even think
everything has been resolved just yet), and I will have finished my first
major Sailor Moon epic. Whew! SoundÕs exhausting, doesnÕt it.
Actually, it has been ^_^;; Of course, itÕs also been fun, and the ride
ainÕt over yet! As usual, I must thank those people who email me
(usually with things along the lines of: get your butt in gear and write
this story, thank you very much!) but hey, it makes me write! Also,
thanking Amanda who is cool and discusses plot with me when I have
no idea how to end it; Tanya, with whom I shall wreak havoc at Akon;
my sister for being cool and actually *saying* Òsquishy, squishyÓ in
that way she does; and Laetia for letting me spoil the ENTIRE plot line
to her LAST summer and STILL reading it. God only knows why, but
hey, thank you!! Also to I Abibde in advance, for hopefully reading this
installment as well ;D
Oh, and just a plug-in for my most recent favorite shows: Karekano and
Cowboy Bebop are awesome! Obviously, Sailor Moon holds that
special place in my heart, but really, anime just rocks. All right, before I
bore you to tears with these never-ending authorÕs notes, IÕm ending.
Hope you enjoyed it, and if you did, remember: there is no such thing as
too much email!

Lois