I'll Cover You cpt 3

The apartment I rented here is pretty modest, but it suits me. Most of the furniture is black and white, and it has only necessities: one bath, one bedroom, and a kitchen/dining room/living room. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that I'd miss it when I go home.

I've been in Japan for almost a month and no interesting stories have presented themselves. Well, until now. A blurry angel in a sailor outfit is a vigilante in the streets of Tokyo. It could work. Americans had a guy in a bat mask and cape jumping around Gotham. Or a man in tights whose disguise was a pair of glasses and a spit curl.

So what's her disguise? A sailor suit? Even that I couldn't make out too well. I guess the sun was in my eyes today. Hell, maybe she's from Krypton, and her magic power is giving me glaucoma. Maybe that means my camera can pick her up.

What are you thinking, Shields? What the hell kind of story is this? This is a fairy tale! This is the stuff of yellow journalism, not a respectable newspaper!

Great.

I decide to take a walk with my camera, hoping that maybe I'll see something. If worse comes to worse, maybe I'll see...Sara? Was that her name? Sara Moo? Who cares: maybe I'll see her again.

But I have a quick errand to do first.

I call Andrew at home for the third time today, phone bill be damned.

"What?"

"Andy, it's me."

"No, I haven't found Raye yet."

"You've found everyone under the sun and you can't find my ex-...my girlfriend?"

"Darien, I don't know what you did, but it's obvious she doesn't want to be found. Especially by you, I'd assume, which is why she's hidden herself so well. The best you can hope for is that she'll get over it and take you back if you crawl. For now, do your work, and if I find anything, I'll call you." He hangs up.

"Dammit," was my response to the dead line. I hang up the phone, grab my camera, and get out of the apartment before I drown myself in pity.

Nothing. Not a single story in Tokyo. How odd. Well, obviously the Tokyo newspapers have stories in them, but I need something that Americans, in all our apathy, would care about reading. As I'm looking around at the scenery, a piece of litter smacks me in the face.

"The hell?" I peel it off to see that a girl in front of me had casually tossed it behind her. I search for words. "Ano!"

She spins around, blonde hair and wide blue eyes. Her friend stops and turns, blue hair with matching irises. Their looks don't surprise me: I'm sure it's a common thing for young Japanese girls to dye their hair strange colours. I hold the paper out to them. The blonde blushes, I suppose not meaning to hit me with it. "Sumimasen ga!"

I pause. I'm pretty sure that means "I'm sorry." I stutter for a few minutes before muttering the first phrase that comes to mind. Is that the one that meant everything's okay? I think it started with a 'd.' Or was that "Where are your passports?"

Whatever I said, I said the wrong thing. The blonde took my reply as an affront, and stormed off, her friend in tow. Too bad; the blonde has a nice ass.

I keep wandering the local district, and I pass by a shrine. Dammit. I didn't want to be reminded of her so soon. However, the journalistic, work-focused area of my brain tells me that it could be a place to take some pictures; I could do a story on parallels between cultures.

My train of thought is interrupted by a stomach gurgle. Apparently, the only cultural parallel my body is interested in is a study of food.

"Alright, alright, buddy. Let's eat out today. I'm too far from home to go back right now, okay?" I tell my stomach, giving it an affectionate pat.

The first place I find is an arcade/snack bar, and decide that it's exactly what I could use. Inside, there are some kids playing various games, and the empty bar. Inside, I saw a man who, if I had met him at home, I would have thought was Andrew's twin brother. Odd.

"Konnichiwa!" he greets, then proceeds to spout Japanese at me. This is only logical, his being Japanese and all. I pull out my dictionary, trying to find the right words for food.

My peripheral vision tells me that the stools to my left have suddenly been occupied. Glancing over, I see the two girls I bumped into earlier. The one with blue hair is immediately next to me. She sees me fumble with my dictionary and smiles. In perfect English, she asks, "Are you an American?"

English. English good. "Yes. Yes I am. Can you help me?"

"Of course." She holds out her hand. "Mizuno Ami."

Last name first. Last name first. "Uh..Dar..no! Shields Darien." Wow, that sounds stupid.

"Well, Darien, what do you need?"

My face falls in defeat. "Help with everything."

She raises an eyebrow, still all smiles. "What do you need right now?"

"A soda and a sandwich?"

"Okay, then." She asks "Motoki" for my food, and we strike up a conversation. Ami's a college student, studying to be a doctor. She's been friends with Usagi (the blonde) for a few months now. They've been working on "a project," as she puts it.

"Ami, before, when I said something to you two...what did I say?"

"When Usagi hit you in the face with her paper?" She giggles. Her laugh is sweet and innocent. "You asked us if we were for sale."

"Oh." Trust me to only pick up the perverted things during my crash course. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that."

"I didn't think you did, considering it seemed to take you a while to think of it."

"You could have just said you didn't speak Japanese, you know," the blonde mutters over a comic book.

"You know English, too?"

She blushes. She could be a model with her bone structure. Maybe I should take a few pictures of her for good measure. "Of course I know English. We had to learn it throughout school." She looks up at me and I get the full force of those baby blues. Quickly I search both of their hair parts for roots. Nothing. Their heads are really those colours. Amazing. No contacts, either. These girls are definitely unique.

I think I've found my story. Is radiation affecting the fashions of Tokyo?; Natural hair to dye for. Or maybe I'm just a sick puppy and these ladies are good at what they do.

"Listen. I was sent here by my paper to find an interesting story, and I think I've found it in you."

"Us? Why us?" they ask. Their eyes suddenly get shifty.

"Nothing special about us!" Ami squeaks.

"We are average girls in Japan!" Usagi pipes up.

The girls hum and haw and tap their fingernails, smiling wider than before. I've hit a nerve.

"Why would you think that I don't think you're normal?"

They exchange glances. "Um...why would you want to do a story on us?"

"Well, I've never seen someone with naturally blue hair, or a Japanese blonde."

They breathe sighs of relief. "Oh, is that all," Usagi mutters.

Before we can continue the conversation further, a tall brunette barges in. She jumps up and down, excited about something, talking to Ami and Usagi. When she notices me, her demeanour changes from that of a girl to a woman. "Konnichiwa," she purrs.

Ami decides to let me in on the conversation. "Makoto, this is Shields Darien. He's from America."

Makoto looks like she's going through the same process I go through when I try to speak Japanese. "Are you sure we haven't met before? You remind me of..."

"Let's go, Mako-chan," Usagi pulls her friend away, not wanting her to spit something out. As they leave, Usagi turns and waves goodbye.

Before I get up myself to leave, I remember why I came here in the first place as Motoki puts down a Coke and sandwich at my place.

When I get back to my apartment that evening, I'm bored. Bored out of my skull. I have no story, I can't understand the TV, and I don't have any friends here. I feel uncomfortable about going out to a club and picking up women, because I'm still waiting for Andrew's call.

I have a lurching feeling that someone's watching me because my life is a sitcom.

Turns out someone was watching me, in a way, when I hear a knock at the door. Through the peephole, I see a disfigured pair of blue eyes. On the other side of the door are Usagi and Makoto. And they brought me food.

Great!

"Sit down, ladies, please. Can I ask what prompted this visit of good will?"

They shoot me blank looks. Basic English, Shields. Use basic English.

"Um...why are you here?"

"Well, Mako-chan just wanted to see you again, and I...thought I'd tag along," Usagi spoke for both of them.

"Usagi-chan thinks you're muph!" Usagi slapped a hand over her friend's mouth.

"Nice! I think you're a nice person!" she chimed over her. They shot each other quick glares before opening Makoto's food pack.

I tried to hold back my grimace at the "treats" inside, but I couldn't help myself. This is the stuff I've been avoiding for the past month. They laugh at my reaction.

"Don't worry; it looks gross to you, but it tastes great!" Makoto reassures me. She grabs a pair of chopsticks and holds up a miniature octopus to my mouth. "Just have a bite," she purrs.

I smile, squint my eyes, and bite. It's good. It's actually pretty good. Then I taste the spices. "Water," I gurgle. "I need water." My eyes are tearing up, and my mouth is on fire. Usagi brings me a glass, and fans me with her hands, as if to cool down the rest of me. She yelled at Makoto, and it sounded to me like, "Blah blah blah baka blah blah blah sushi baka!" Hey, I can only pick out what I know.

"Don't fight, I'll be okay," I say, trying to calm them down. "What was that, anyway? It was great except for the fire part."

"That's something I've been working on. I'll remember to leave out the pepper next time!"

"I helped cook!" Usagi chimes in.

"No you didn't, baka," Makoto shoots.

"Did too!"

"Iie!"

"Ladies!" They stop arguing and I breathe a sigh of relief. I could have sworn I saw lightning charge around Makoto for a second, but that's because of the effects of Mr. Squid-Food. We eat in silence for a few minutes, and then shift to casual conversation. I learn that Usagi and Makoto are enrolled in local colleges and are average students. They've become friends in the last few months.

"Do you work on that project with Ami?" I ask.

They stiffen. "What project?" Makoto blurts.

"Ami said she and Usagi became friends while working on a project. Do you work with them?"

"Oh, yes...the project!" Usagi laughs. "Yes, she works with us. We just got a new person to join our project today! I'm so excited! Now that we have five, we can start looking for the prince--"

It's Makoto's turn to slap a hand over Usagi's mouth. "We can...uh...start finishing the project! It should all be over soon!" She grins, and I can tell Usagi's doing the same behind the hand.

When I was young, I broke my father's camera. I was seven and had no idea what to do, so when he came home, I stressed how much nothing I knew about his camera, and how I hadn't touched it all day, and then I grinned a lot, thinking that this meant he would never suspect me.

I get the same "nothing to see here!" vibe from these girls.

"So, what is this project you're working on?" I ask. Maybe this is my story.

"School project."

"Hobby."

Different answers simultaneously. They exchange glances before agreeing on "school project."

"But Ami works on it, too? I thought she went to a different school," I point out.

Another exchange of glances. This is definitely my story. They're too nervous; they're hiding something.

"She's helping us with it because she's so smart," Makoto says. "She knows we'd never get it done if we relied on Usagi here."

"Yup! That's it!" Usagi laughs. "I'm a baka!"

"So, Darien, why are you here?"

"I'm working for my newspaper in America, looking for a good story to print."

"What are you writing about?" Usagi asks.

"I have no idea. I haven't found anything. Well, actually, I do have an idea." Here's a long shot. They'll think I'm crazy and leave. "Has either of you heard of Sara Moo?"

They both choke on food.

I continue. "I saw her fighting a...a terrorist or something. Well, I didn't exactly see her as I saw a blur of her presence. She was all fuzzy to me."

"So that's how that works..." Usagi muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing! Go on!"

"And I'd like to do a story on her, but I don't know if I could ever find her again, or if she's even real."

Usagi laughs bitterly. "She's real, all right. And youma only seem to attack around her."

It surprises me that she said that. Usagi's face looks like it were only made to be happy. This tone doesn't work for her.

"But, uh, to change the subject, do you have any other ideas?" Makoto asks.

"Not really. I was going to do something about where people our age go for fun, but I don't feel comfortable going out alone to a club..."

"Well, we'll take you, then!" Usagi jumps up. "Let's go party!"

"Yeah! We haven't gone out in a long time!" Makoto adds.

"Wait a second, I didn't say I was going to go out tonight..."

"Come on! We're treating you to a night out in Tokyo!"

They threw my coat and keys at me and pushed me out the door