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I had suspected that something was wrong from the very beginning, from the way everyone had been acting lately. Strange, how they could change so quickly from my beloved aunts to people who jumped at every shadow, and my mother...

She always had been strange about the subject of my father. As a child, I had brought it up on a semi-regular basis, whenever it had struck me that I was different from the other children who surrounded me. They all had fathers. Even if they were away on business regularly, even if their parents were separated or divorced, they still had fathers.

I had a name -- and a dim description. I had asked mother once, and been overcome with guilt when she started crying. She had apologised, and seemed on the verge of saying something, but I was struck by guilt. Even though I was young, I understood that it hurt her dreadfully to talk about him. I was only a child, but I had always been perceptive. I found out eventually that if I wanted to hear anything at all about my father, I should ask Beruche, the second youngest of my mother's sisters. It seemed she wasn't overly affected by my father's death, and she told me vaguely "Oh, you look like your father."

Looking in the mirror was the only idea I had of my father's appearance. I wondered what parts of my face were my fathers -- my eyes? My hair? My facial structure?

I don't think they realised how much it killed me, that feeling of not knowing. It was like not having a part of myself, not knowing just who my father had been. Over time, I came to realise that I would probably never know, which is why I never tried to look him up anywhere. Though... when I heard the name "Hirosada" on the news on a regular basis, it made me wonder. I almost asked mother about it once, but thought the better of it. Though I doubted that Hirosada Mankichi was no relation to my father... there was something about him, something that made me uneasy.

I walked the sidewalk hurriedly, towards the park. Ichinohashi Park. I never understood it, but that park had always held a strange fascination for me. It seemed... haunted, somehow. I couldn't explain how. But what I really was worried about was my desire to go there today. It seemed to be calling to me, somehow, like the demented song of the sea sirens. Like the sirens, I realised that this cry was possibly luring me to rocks upon which I would crash... rocks to sink me.

Looking upward, I gazed at the sky. "Looks like rain," I muttered, before setting forth, moving deeper into the park. I needed to keep moving -- it was like I was searching for something I wasn't even sure I'd recognise when I found it. Strange.

Coming upon the lake, I was startled to see two people seated on a park bench. For some reason, I had believed myself to be completely alone. I suppose it had been a stupid assumption to make, but that was just what had happened. I had no idea why it unnerved me so, to realise that I was indeed not alone. It made me uneasy.

I stayed away from them, almost hiding behind a tree to observe the couple from a distance. They didn't notice me in the slightest, and as I looked closer, I realised why I had felt a jolt of recognition when I had seen them. That was Minister Hirosada-san, and the woman with him was the one the tabloids had connected him with earlier this week.

I couldn't take my eyes off the man; something about him touched a nerve in me. An aching part of me, a part that had always felt incomplete, hollow.

I watched in silence as the woman, dressed in a flared black skirt with a cream coloured blouse, stood up. She took a maroon coat from where it had been sitting beside her, putting it over one arm as she appeared to have a brief conversation with Hirosada. The, she swiftly walked in the other direction, after casting a brief look over the lake. She vanished around a bend a minute later.

I honestly could not stop staring at Hirosada Mankichi. No matter how stupid I told myself I was being, I couldn't help but gaze at him, as if I should be able to garner some knowledge from his appearance. It was like I should be looking at him and seeing someone else.

"He's very arresting, isnât he?"

The voice beside me should have frightened me; to my surprise, it did not. Actually. It seemed strangely appropriate that she should appear beside me, and so silently, too. I was leaning against the tree, and she stood beside me, her dark red coat now on and firmly buttoned over her blouse. I didnât look at her at first, unable to look away from Hirosada. It was almost as if I expected him to vanish if I did so.

"I suppose you could be right," I replied finally, finally looking to the woman who stood shorter than me by several inches.

To say her appearance shocked me would have been an understatement. What got to me initially was how very young she looked. From a distance, I had known that she was somewhat younger than the almost middle-aged politician, even though he too looked very young for his age. But now... up close, she looked barely older than me, and I was only fifteen years old! She barely looked more than nineteen!

She smiled slightly, and even though I hadn't said anything, I gathered that she knew exactly what kind of thoughts were coursing through my mind. "Tomoe Hotaru," she said in her light, melodious voice, extending a long fingered, slender hand to me. "Doozo yoroshiku!"

"You too," I replied in a daze. "My name is Ayakashi Koutaishi..."

I gazed at her long and hard then. She was remarkably pretty, in an understated way. I don't know if I ever would have called her beautiful, given I reserved that word for only things that really took my fancy, but she was genuinely very lovely. Her eyes were wide and dark in a pale-skinned face, framed by a perfect mane of dark hair. I thought it at first to be black, but after a minute I saw traces of violet -- just like the shards of purple I saw dancing in her liquid eyes.

She tossed her head in the direction of Hirosada; don't get me wrong, either. Even though she "tossed" her hair, there was nothing about her that struck me as being conceited or haughty. It honestly seemed a gesture designed to draw my attention to the man. Not that I needed much prodding to do so. "You seem quite intrigued by my companion, Ayakashi-san. Any reason?"

"I... I don't actually know," I replied, after a degree of hesitation. "He just... worries me, somehow."

She raised an eyebrow, her smile growing. It wasn't like she was laughing at me, though; it was more sympathetic and understanding to my eyes. "Worries you?"

"He looks troubled. Somehow, that disturbs me."

Tomoe-san laughed outright. "It's funny, how quickly other people's concerns become our troubles, isn't it? Just a peculiar flaw of human nature, I would suppose."

It was my turn to be surprised. "You consider this to be a flaw?"

She shrugged. "Not really. But that's because it's always been in my nature to help, so I can hardly begrudge other people it."

I looked at her closely then, and then looked back to Hirosada. He was staring blankly across the lake now, and seemed caught up in his own world of deep thought. "You don't seem too concerned about him, given what they say..."

"What they say? Oh," she said, obviously answering her own question. "I see. You think... no, I am not involved with Mankichi-san. I am more a... guardian of sorts."

This peculiar statement, oddly enough, didnât seem all that peculiar in the dim lighting of the park this morning. "You don't seem to be doing a lot of guarding."

She smiled, and patted me on the shoulder. It was a strange gesture, given that I was actually a fair bit taller than she was. "Maybe what I am to guard him from is already too close for me to stop it, Koutaishi."

I jumped, and stared at her, my mouth wide open. She merely smiled and then left me alone, disappearing down the pathway without looking back in my direction. She had been only a brief presence in my life, yet I knew from that moment on that she was a special person. She had invoked in me a calmness, an understanding that no-one else could have.

She made me understand that Hirosada Mankichi could indeed assuage the longing in my heart -- the yearning I had for knowing who I was, where I came from.

She had said she was about to "guard" Hirosada. She had then told me that she had essentially failed. The person she had been supposed to keep away from him was already too close.

I'm not sure just what part of her words had given me the assurance that I was that person. I knew, however. Looking at him, I could understand that he was a part of me, as much as I was a part of him. To this day, I do not understand why Tomoe Hotaru allowed me to go to him when it was obvious she should have tried to stop me.

Maybe she understood the pain of losing a part of your family. That pain was the greatest, because it also meant you had lost of piece of yourself. Whatever her reasons, however, it ensured that I remained grateful to that violet woman for the rest of my life. Tomoe Hotaru, she had done something for me that I knew was wonderful, a wonderful gift. I didn't thank her then, but I realised that when we met again -- as we inevitably would -- I would have to thank her.

First, though... I would have to go and use the opportunity that Tomoe Hotaru had granted me, in her own, funny way.

Apprehensive, I moved out from behind the tree, and strode forward, purposely stopping beside the minister, who seemed distracted. He didnât even notice me until I said "May I sit here?"

He looked up, blinking his eyes as if to focus them -- or were those tears he was fighting back? "Of course," he replied, and his eyes narrowed in bemusement, perhaps as if he thought he should recognise me.

"You're Hirosada Mankichi, aren't you?" I asked suddenly, realising that this man was not going to magically know what I was here for. Hotaru's presence could only do so much.

He smiled, but only a little. "You would appear to have the advantage of me."

I nodded, somehow wanting to smile but not quite allowing myself to do so. "I guess I do... so I suppose I should even the odds." I put a hand out. "Ayakashi Koutaishi."

I noted with satisfaction the way his eyes jumped at the mention of my name, though the rest of his body was controlled, calm. I realised with a jolt that he seemed very... regal, somehow. "Doozo yoroshiku, Ayakashi-san," he replied in that self-possessed tone that I had often heard him speak in via the media, and I wondered. Wondered why he acted so serene even though it was obvious to me that he was falling apart on the inside. "I take it you recognised me through my career?"

"Partly," I said, and then blurted out something further. "Then again, I recognised you because I feel as if I know you, and have known you before."

He cocked a tired eyebrow. "Is that so?" I nodded, unable to reply verbally. He smiled tiredly, wearily. "I think I would have to agree with you there, Ayakashi-san. I knew what your name was even before you told me."

I smiled. "So, you recognise me?"

"Without ever having met you before."

He then fell silent, into contemplation, I would assume. I too, was quiet; I was confused out of my mind, actually. I knew that this man held all the answers to the questions I had in my mind, I just did not know how to broach the subject. After years of bungling it with my mother and aunts, I knew that this would have to be treated delicately. I would have to move slowly.

So much for good planning.

"You knew my father, didn't you?" I blurted out. The second the words left my mouth, I wished I could reach out and take them back. I knew that somehow I had hurt him with that phrase.

Hirosada stiffened, his eyes closing briefly, as if he were in great pain. He then turned to me, these violet eyes so pained, tormented... and familiar. "What makes you say that?"

Trembling slightly. I indicated the direction in which the young woman had disappeared the first time. "Tomoe-san implied it," I replied, wondering how far this comment would take me.

He smiled then, a bitter smile. "Strange, isn't it? She was supposed to keep us separated, yet she leads you on to me. It's like she wants me to destroy myself over you... like she wants me to face the demons of the past."

He looked so angry at that moment, I almost jumped up and ran away. He had changed from melancholy to severely irked with the mention of one name. "I'm sorry to have bothered you," I began as an excuse me line, attempting to stand up.

Hirosada put a hand on my arm, a gentle hand. The touch was comforting enough that I sat down again, looking to him curiously. "So, it was me that Tomoe-san was supposedly protecting you from?"

He nodded, looking strangely disturbed. "Protect may be a poor choice of words, Ayakashi-san. It's more that she tried to keep us away from each other. If anything, she was protecting you from me."

"Is there a reason for that, or does she usually do things like that?"

He had to smile, turning those beautiful violet eyes back to me. I don't know why, but I found those eyes beautiful, entrancing. It was like they touched a deep chord in me, a chord that had never been touched in me before. It wasn't the same warmth and safety I felt when about my mother... it was more akin to what I felt from my aunts, but more... concrete, somehow. I couldn't put a name on it, though it niggled at the back of my mind, just out of reach. "I don't think she usually does things like that... it's a job more akin to her counterparts, but I believe she was given charge over me because she is a... healing presence."

I was confused. "Nani?"

Hirosada brushed a strand of his hair away from his forehead, and smiled sadly. "Hotaru-san is a... strange person. She can fill a person with the bright light of healing... and I am in desperate need of some respite from my pain, Ayakashi-san."

"And why do you feel pain?" I almost whispered, almost dreading his answer.

"Because I am responsible for your father's death."

The first true words I had heard spoken regarding my father's death were those. A terrible phrase, spoken in a voice wracked with pain and guilt, with the heavy burden of knowing it's all my fault.

"Who are you?" I asked finally, noting with distress the way tears had welled up in those violet eyes, the way his hands had began to shake.

Hirosada Mankichi slowly ran his trembling fingers through his hair, as if trying to clear his roiling thoughts by doing so. "I am your father's brother, Koutaishi-san." He turned pained eyes on me, smiling bitterly. "I am the older brother who could not protect him."

I cocked my head to one side, and spoke one word. "Ojisan..."

"Indeed," he nodded his head, eyes bright with unshed tears. I could see how that word hurt him, but I couldn't understand why. Not until I made the connection.

"How did he die?" I asked, and I saw him shudder. "Please," I said to him, not wanting to cause him any more pain, but desperate to go forward further. This uncle of mine was the one I had gotten the most answers out of thus far, and I knew that there was no turning back now. "Can't you tell me?"

Mankichi-ojisan bit his lip. Hard. I saw the blood ooze out, before he moved a hand upward to try and stem the flow. He then turned his bright eyes on me again. "He died because I was too stupid to know that he would never have betrayed me. He died because I am stupid, put it that way."

I was shocked by the anger in his voice, the way he could only look at me for a second. I got my explanation for that a second later, when he suddenly choked on a sob. He couldn't look my way as he said it. "Rudra save us all, you look like him. I never thought that you would..." He buried his face in his long-fingered hands, and I could hear those tears. They cut through my heart like the proverbial knife through butter.

I put a hand on his shoulder, noting with distress the way my own hand was shaking. "Does it make it harder for you, because I look like he did?"

Mankichi-ojisan nodded, without allowing a glimpse of me to get into his line of vision. "I look at you and I see Saffir," he said softly.

My hand began to shake further. "You see who?"

"I see Saffir -- my brother," he said, finally looking at me. He raised a hand when I would protest. "I donât know what name your mother would have given you, but she was lying. Your father's name was Saffir, just as my name is truly Demando."

"I donât understand..."

He shook his head. "Of course you don't understand -- I wouldn't expect you to understand, Koutaishi-san. But I will say one thing. You look just like your father, except from what I can tell, you're taller. Your eyes and hair are different, but your face is the same, your stance almost identical. You even speak like him."

Gazing at him, I realised something. "My hair colour... it's like yours."

He nodded slightly. "That shocked me. I don't know if you could imagine how it makes me feel, but it hurts. Itâs like seeing myself inside my brother... and it reminds me of how close we were..." He lowered his head. "You must hate me."

"Why would I hate you?" I asked gently, compassionately.

Sighing, Mankichi-ojisan -- Demando? -- couldn't meet my gaze. "Your father died for me. He loved me far more than I ever deserved... and he died to prove a point. Koutaishi-san, if you hate me, I understand. It hurts, but I understand... I stole from you the person who should have been there for you, always... just like he was once always there for me."

"I don't hate you," I replied softly. "How could I hate you?"

My ojisan brushed at his eyes, trying to quell some of the tears. "You don't know the entire story. If I told it to you, you would hate me, just as your mother does." He levelled his violet gaze at me then. "She blames me for his death, you know. And you should, too."

"I'll make my own decisions," I said slowly, distinctly. "I shall make my own decisions when you tell me what happened to my father."

He told me then. He told me a long, painful story that I would never have believed, save for the genuine pain and anguish in those eyes. I cried along with him as he recounted in graphic detail just how my father had died. Actually, he went into more detail than I cared to know, but I knew why. The events of that day were emblazoned onto his mind, and he couldn't put them aside. It hurt him far too much to do so, to brush off his brother's memory like that. And he already felt too much guilt about it.

"Where is he now?" I asked finally, when he paused after telling me he had taken his brother's broken body into his arms.

"I took him home," he said softly, blinking his eyes rapidly to hold back more tears. "I think Petz wanted me to bury him here on Earth, but I couldn't bear to leave him again. At that point, it had never once been suggested that I would end up living on Earth, as a mere human. Therefore, I took my brother to that hellish world we had called home -- in the loosest sense of the word." He smiled bitterly. "Home. That place makes a mockery of the saying 'Home sweet home.'"

"And you buried him there?" I asked softly.

He shook his head. "Frankly, Koutaishi, I couldn't bear to place him in the cold, barren dirt that covers Nemesis... there was just something about the ground that told me it was greedy and carnivorous, something about it told me that if I gave my brother up to it, it would steal his beauty and make him as ugly as I had been. I doubt I could have watched the dirt cover my brother -- it would have been like covering the sun with smog, like planting a beautiful flower in the shade, denying it sun. No, I could not bury my brother."

"Did you cremate him?"

"I encased him," he replied softly, lowering his head so his tears could drip down his cheeks. "I encased him in crystal, I froze him in a quartz coffin so I would ever be able to look upon my sleeping brother and remind myself of what I had done to him."

I felt for him then. His guilt was a terrible thing, it was never going to let him go. I knew that. Never would my uncle be free from the tormented world he had built up around himself for these sixteen years. My forgiveness, my mother's forgiveness, even the forgiveness of the Senshi and this Neo-Queen Serenity... no, none of that could heal his heart, assuage his fears, chase away his guilt. Only the forgiveness of one person could do that.

And Saffir was dead.

"He now sleeps alone in a tomb in the palace of Nemesis," he said softly. "Whomever it is who rules Nemesis now understands that my brother is not to be disturbed..."

"Nemesis still exists?"

"It has changed..." he replied quietly. "The Wiseman was killed, I was healed and sent back here, to stay away from whatever influence the jakozuishou may still hold over Nemesis, and from the Neo-Queen."

I nodded, then I asked the question that I knew I had to. "Can I see him?"

"See who?"

"My father."

He flinched -- I didn't blame him. "You mean, a picture, or... his body?"

I had meant a picture, but I prodded further. "Can I see his body?"

He closed his eyes for a second, tears leaking out of those violet eyes. "I encased him in crystal, like the way bugs were encased in sap that hardened to amber so many years ago... he is frozen in his eternal sleep. Yes, if I were to take you to him, you could see him. But I cannot -- I have no power, and Sailor Pluto is the only one who could take you there."

Something struck me then. "Is... Tomoe Hotaru a Senshi?"

"Yes," he said, surprised. "Although she had no place in my story -- she is Sailor Saturn, soldier of death and destruction."

I nodded. "I just wondered... there was something about her. But... do you have any pictures of him?"

He inclined his head. "I have many, but I have only one with me."

At that moment, lightening streaked across the sky, to be followed in quick succession by the deep rumbling of thunder in the sky's throat. Rain began to pound down soon enough, as I stared at my uncle. Both of us had been soaked in a second.

He motioned for me to come closer, and he took from his pocket his wallet. Shielding it with his coat, he showed me a smallish photo, pride and admiration shining in his eyes. It was obvious to me than just how much he had loved his younger brother.

"This is perhaps my favourite picture," he told me confidentially, smiling in genuine pleasure. "It's the only picture I have of him that is anything approaching informal... the only picture I have where he is almost smiling. It was taken by a friend of ours just days before we attacked Crystal Tokyo."

I looked at it, shocked. Mankichi-ojisan -- no, Demando had one arm slung casually about his little brother's shoulder, smiling broadly as he gave a V for Victory sign. Saffir was much more subdued, not exactly smiling, but his eyes danced with love for his oniisan. I could tell that this love was directed at Demando because of the way he was giving him a sideways look, filled with adoring trust.

Like Hotaru, his youth struck me. Even though I knew he had to be in his twenties or thereabouts, he looked very young, very innocent, with those trusting, dusky eyes. His hair was dark, far darker than the shade shared by his elder brother and his son, and was a deep, sapphire blue.

"It's a very rare picture of him," Mankichi-ojisan said finally, putting it away with a care born from a deep and precious love. "Saffir-otootochan usually looked very troubled, far more troubled than anyone his age had any right to be... but in this picture he was happy, content..."

"Because he was with you," I finished softly, and I knew it was true. Saffir had loved Demando beyond reason...and it was knowing of this that made me love Mankichi-ojisan in much the same way.

"You know what troubles me the most?" he said finally. "They say that friends come and go... but family, they're there for life." He then looked down at the closed wallet, tears welling up in his eyes. "I wish I had known him better."

"He's still yours for life," I replied softly. We held onto each other as I walked him to his car.

To Chapter Five

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