"Whoa," was her only reaction.
Then gravity kicked in.
The unconscious male plummeted head-first into the junction between Makoto's legs. Perhaps under different circumstances, the girl would have died of embarrassment from this turn of events. But the situation at hand was hardly amusing. As it was, Yosho's romanesque chin smashed directly into a certain nerve cluster located in that area of Makoto's anatomy. The poor girl likely would have screamed if she could have spared thought away from the agony in her crotch.
Beyond all thought, Makoto rolled over on her side, in an attempt to deal with the pain. Her legs came up, curling her into the fetal position. With Yosho's head still between her legs. The scene looked anything but innocent. Reactions of the other Senshi ranged from full-cherry blush(Ami, Usagi, Rei, Hotaru), to Haruka shouting utterly useless advice to the unconscious man, to Minako's pouting, and finally to Setsuna and Michiru covering their faces disgusted frustration.
It was Minako who broke the tableau, hauling Yosho away from Makoto's groin with a cry of "Not in front of the rest of us!", deliberately misreading the situation.
"Are you alright, Mako-chan?" Ami asked her friend.
"make the hurting stop" came as the only response. Ami gave a nervous chuckle and hoped Makoto would do better in a few minutes.
"Oh @&%%-!#, cad%^$&$!. Why does she get all the %$&! luck!?" The Senshi whirled away from Makoto's plight to look at Minako. The Warrior of Love and Justice was swearing like a sailor. The majority of her shouting and gesturing was aimed at the man lying on the floor.
Haruka leaned through the bars into Michiru's cage. "Any clue what those words mean?"
"Nope."
The more heterosexual members of the group leaned in to get a good look at their guest.
"Oh, wow!" said Rei in an awed voice.
Usagi swallowed. "Eh, he's almost as good as my Mamo-chan." It sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than anything else.
*Blush* Ami's reaction was not verbal, but evident nonetheless.
"...he's really cute," Hotaru breathed through a tomato-red expression. Haruka and Michiru immediately promised death on the perverted male.
Setsuna nodded in agreement. The new arrival was an impressive example of bishonen masculinity, with an abdomen you could carve washers off of. True, he wasn't a candle to that Okita fellow a century and some back, but then, few were.
"#@$%!" Minako continued to rant.
Makoto, able to breathe again, stood up and wobbled over to the gawking peanut gallery. And when she beheld the sight before her, she stopped breathing for the second time that day.
Luxurious black hair framed the face of a god, the long strands spilling out in a raven-dark halo behind his head. Marred as it was by tear tracks, his face was nonetheless beautiful. The robes, despite their alien design, harkened back to traditional Japanese wear, not unlike that of a noble samurai. The guards on his arms further invoked the warrior image. So much so, that Makoto could easily see this man standing tall against a horde of lesser samurai, his victory assured, before returning to his palace to greet his blushing bride.
A blushing bride who wore her hair in a suspicious ponytail.
"Ouji-sama," Makoto murmured, smiling softly at the results of her wish.
The others watched their tall friend blushing and talking to herself. Business as usual.
A groan got everyone's attention.
----~*~----
Groaning, with a hand keeping his skull together, Yosho sat up. His eyes unadjusted to the suddenly dark space of his ship's bridge, he scanned about. Odd. That wasn't grass under him, nor was it the panelled wood of Funaho. It instead looked to be cut lumber. Yosho shuddered at the thought of barbarism. He came from a world where trees were grown into ships, not slaughtered and carved up.
Blearily, he could make out several forms, all seated around him. All female, whose facial features tickled something in the back of his mind.
"W-whe." Aware his voice was cracking, Yosho coughed deep in his throat before trying again. "Where, if I may ask, am I?"
The coal-haired one spoke. "You're at my home, the Hino Shrine." She smiled at him, but Yosho got the feeling she was more used to scowling. Rather like his tahler, or his father's other wife, he supposed.
"Hino Shrine? Are we on Dashikki, then?"
The young women looked amongst themselves for a moment, creases of confusion and worry crossing their brows. The maid with the indigo hair and eyes, the doctor-seeming one, answered. "No,...er, I'm sorry, what is your name?"
"Yosho."
"No, Yosho-san, we are not in 'Dashikki.' We are in Tokyo."
His incomprehension must have been apparent, for she went on. "Tokyo, in Japan? Do you understand?"
Yosho thought back. He remembered the name from somewhere, now just where? It wasn't Juraian... Yosho halted that train of thought. Not a familiar term, then, but one common enough for him to remember it.
His mother. Funaho. The memories of sitting on his mother's knee, hearing with wide eyes, wondering at her tales of her homeland. The stories were not long on place names, instead using roundabout descriptors, such as "Land of Wa," or "Land of the Morning Mist." But one land was named above all others. A land so far to the east, the direction of the rising sun, that it came to be eternally associated with the star Sol. Home to a people who boasted descent from the sun goddess herself. A land so steeped in this folklore, that it worked it's way into the nation's name.
The Source of the Sun. Nippon. Nihon. Japan.
Not sure how he forced his voice to work, Yosho asked, "Is this the planet Earth?"
Confusion blanketed the visages before him. "Yes, Yosho-san, we are on Earth," replied the doctor-type, drawing out the first word long, unsure of herself.
Yosho could not hold back the tears. His people were dead, slaughtered, gone. But Mother was from Earth. She was of these people before Father came. Fresh liquid spilled down his face. These were his people as well. And they were not dead; indeed, they seemed very much alive.
Supportive arms pulled him into an embrace. Not caring of decency or propriety, Yosho held onto the stranger with the strength of a drowning man. His people were alive! Not those he grew up with, but now he might learn the other half of his heritage. He had...
He had a home.
As all things do, Yosho's tears ended. He pulled away from the figure to look into emerald eyes. "Thank you," he said.
The young woman shook her head, sending her ponytail swaying. "No, not at all." She smiled at him. "You seemed to need it."
Nodding, Yosho sat up straighter, swiping a hand across his eyes. "I apologize for my outburst. It's just that, events seem to be catching up with me."
"Aw, it's all right, Yocchan! I know I always feel better after a good cry!"
The blonde who said that was immediately put into a headlock by the lady whose home this was. "Not now, Meatball!"
The mature woman with the tanned skin drew Yosho's attention. "You asked about Earth, Yosho-san. Are we to infer from this that you are not human?" The woman's gaze hardened, reminding him of his mother and tahler when they wanted the truth out of rambunctious little boys. "You see, we have had some... difficulties with non-Earthers in the past."
Yosho felt beholden to affirm that. The Demonic Duo of Ryoko and Kagato, monstrous as they were, were not the only dangers out in space. "Yes, that is so, but not in entirety.
"The planet of Jurai is... *was*, I should say, the capital seat of a vast empire, populated by space-faring peoples, most of them Juraians by birth or oath. My father was forced by our laws and to prevent civil war to find a bride not of Juraian birth. He found her on these islands, a woman named Funaho. My mother.
"That was some..." Yosho paused to think, "seven hundred years ago, I believe. We Juraians live a very long time," he added in response to the looks he was getting.
"Six days ago, the space pirate Ryoko visited Jurai and did what she does best: destroy. I saw... the most horrible things. And in my rage, I disregarded everything, even my beloved family, and raced off to track her down. And the instant I left the system, things became much worse.
"Kagato came. Jurai died."
"Who is 'Kagato?'" asked the tanned woman.
"Kagato is perhaps the worst criminal that this galaxy. Destroyed hundreds of colony worlds, killed thousands of innocent people. Controlled Ryoko like his own personal puppet.
"He arrived above Jurai, as I said, the instant I left the system. I fear that I didn't see the entire battle, but I did witness Kagato bombarding the surface, scouring away our holy trees. His shots were concentrated," here Yosho was forced to stop and suck in a deep breath," on our capital city, directly above the palace, killing my entire family.
"The last thing I saw was Tsunami manifesting herself in space to meet Kagato. I don't know what exactly happened but... but... OUR GODDESS WAS SLAIN!"
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(Posted Tue, 17 Jan 2006 01:33)
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