[ G ]

gradient@thedoghousemail.com        http://members.tripod.com/gradient

                      *  *  *  *  *  *  *


The real meditation is... the meditation on one's identity.  Ah, voilą
une chose!!  You try it.  You try finding out why you're you and not
somebody else.  And who in the blazes are you anyhow?  Ah, voilą une 
chose!

                                               Ezra Pound

*********************
The Other Half

by

+Gradient
*********************


       Sometimes I wonder . . .

       "Ami, would you please do problem number five at the blackboard?"

       The other students groan as I approach the board.  The teacher
hears them, but decides not to say anything.  It is, after all, their
ritual.

       "Be sure to show your work, Ami.  I know sometimes you like to
keep your best thoughts to yourself."

       I very deliberately form the numbers of the equation.  Numbers,
numbers.  Nothing but numbers these days.  I copy them off my homework
almost unconsciously.  I turn around in anticipation.

       "Hmmmm . . . that's fairly close, Ami, but you've forgotten
several important steps.  For example, you only add exponents in this
case when they have a common base.  Inazaki, would you care to finish
Ami's problem?"  He smiles as he goes to the board with the knowledge
that he *does* have the correct answer.

       I return to my seat, surprised.  I actually did better on that
one than I thought I would have.  I suppose I'm going to have to treat
my mathematics study time a little more seriously, like father says.

       * * * * *

       "Let's see . . ." my blonde friend mutters as she examines the
latest test posting.  "Hmmm, I seem to be stuck at the bottom.  No
surprise there.  Do you see your name yet?"

       "I've already found it," the tall brunette behind me interjects.
"There it is, 'Mizuno Ami,' ranked 51 of 173."

       The blonde turns around, almost incredulously.  "Fifty-one?
Fifty-one?"  She smiles.  "Goodness, Ami, have you been secretly going
to some cram school or something?  That's fantastic!"

       "Yeah," the brunette begins, "at this rate you're going to
overtake me in a matter of weeks."

       Perhaps even sooner, I thought to myself.  While she's probably
smarter than all of us, she often ignores her own work to help us study.
I wonder if any friend elsewhere would do something like that.

       The blonde giggles.  "You're doing all of this to impress
Kyosuke, aren't you, Ami?  Don't lie, it's written all over your
face."

       "And her notebook too," the brunette slyly throws in.  "All
you've got to do is look."

       I blush.  That's always been a particular problem of mine.  No
sense denying it now, as my own particular form of truth barometer is
known by my friends as very accurate.

       "It's nothing to be ashamed about, Ami.  Are you going to miss
him when we go on our class trip tomorrow?  Are you?  Are you?"

       Now that was a silly question, but nothing too unexpected from
this person.  I give her my most benign look of annoyance and respond:

       "Yeah, I guess I will.  I'll miss my family a lot too.  I've
never been so far away from them."

       "And while we're on the subject of your family, Ami," the tall 
one adds, "tell Motoyuki to quit wooing and hitting on me every time I
visit you.  I don't see how you live with that little brother of yours
sometimes."

       We all share a laugh.  She's right, of course.  I'll have to do
something about that.  But it's just *so* cute to watch him pursue a
girl two years and ten inches his superior.

       It's good to have friends.  It's good to have had friends from
first grade and keep them through life.  I'm a lucky person.

       * * * * *

       "That's exactly what she said, Motoyuki.  Back off."

       "But Ami, she's the perfect woman.  How do you expect me to
drop something like that?"

       "You're fourteen years old, Motoyuki.  How would you know that
she's perfect for you?"

       "Ami's right, Motoyuki.  Don't worry, give the girl a couple
more years and maybe she'll come to her senses."  Father always had a
way of supporting my position and then naughtily undercutting it.
Today appeared to be no different, as he chuckled from across the
dinner table.

       "You're not helping any, dear."  I think that mother secretly
relished her role as the straight man to my father's comedic tendencies.
I would have thought that it would have been the other way around;
after all, it was father who held the high-stress job at the investment
firm.  Sometimes the roles that life plays out are almost humorously
different than what you believed them to be.

       "When can I get married?"  The faint voice through a pile of
uneaten broccoli at the end of the table brought a warm feeling to the
room.  Little Yoshino had only started school six months ago, but she
was growing in leaps and bounds.  I think the tear that my mother had
been hiding lately was partially brought about by the fact that my 
little sister looked exactly like I did at that age.

       "Oh, I think we'd better wait a while for that," father smiles.
"Having one of my girls out of the house is already causing me to
worry."

       "I'm only going to be gone for three days, father," I groan.  I
know he's only concerned, but his protectiveness does manage to
embarrass me sometimes.  "And I *am* sixteen years old."

       "We tend to forget sometimes, that's one of our little
limitations of being parents," mother adds with a sad grin.  "We know
you'll be okay, but it's just that we like to keep thinking of you as
our little girl, like Yoshino is now.  I hope you'll forgive us, we
didn't mean to darken your big day any."

       "Oh. you didn't.  I suppose I think that way as well sometimes."

       "Hmmph," my brother interjects.  "I wish you'd do less thinking
about that and more thinking on how I'm going to get her to come to my
birthday party next week."

       "Didn't you hear a word we just said, Motoyuki?  You *are*
incorrigible, just like she said."

       "She did?  She said that about me?  Great!  She noticed!  That
means handsome or something, right?"

       "Yeah, something like that . . ." I finish.  We all laugh,
except for Yoshino, who used the distraction of the humor to quickly
throw some of her broccoli under the table to the family cat.

       * * * * *

       "Tokyo's a really exciting place.  I think you'll enjoy it, Ami."

       "Yeah, but . . ."

       "No buts, now."  He placed his finger on her lips.  "I know what
you're thinking, and I don't want you to feel guilty over this.  You
*deserve* this trip."

       "It's not all that Kyosuke . . . I was just thinking, you'll be
going to university in Tokyo next year, right?"

       "Hmmmm, maybe.  I haven't made any final decisions yet."

       "It's just kind of funny: for the next few days, I'll be there
and you'll be here, and then later, I'll be here and you'll be there.
It sort of makes me miss you already."

       "Ami, you worry too much.  But if it will make your trip go a
little easier, I will let you know that as of late I have been leaning
toward the local university more than any of the others."

       "Really?"  Her eyes lit up innocently.

       "Well, don't tell my father though.  He sort of wants me to go
to the University of Tokyo like he did, but I know he'll never say
anything if I don't.  And besides, since he's at the office so long 
anymore, I think someone should be around to look after my little
sister.  Plus, the local university is almost as highly ranked in a few
of the fields I was considering.  And, of course, there's the small 
matter of seeing your lovely face every day."

       "Small matter?" she looked up, smiling.  "Kyosuke, whatever you
do, please don't do something like that on my account."

       "Trust me, Ami.  No one wants this more than I do, so you just
get on that train tomorrow with your friends, go to Tokyo, enjoy the
sights and shopping, and come back with a smile on your face.  I'll be
waiting for you."

       "I know."  She rested her head on his shoulder.

       * * * * *

       "Well, I don't know about you, but I know what *I'm* going to
do when we get to Tokyo."

       "And what's that?" my black-haired friend asked the blonde in
a curiously annoyed tone.

       "I'm going to go to the observation deck on Tokyo Tower and make
a wish to find my true love.  My parents . . ."

       "Yes, we all know how your parents met on the tower and fell in
love at first sight.  But that doesn't mean that you will."

       "Just don't give up," I tell the blonde.  I try to cheer her up
when I can.  She's always such a romantic sort.

       "Yeah," the brunette adds, "you'll find your true love one day,
just like Ami.  But how do you expect to do it if you're still packing
your bags?"

       We all laughed.  Even though we were waiting with the rest of
our class at the station for the train to Tokyo, she was still 
adjusting and readjusting her luggage.  She's not what you would call 
the organized type.

       "What are you going to do when you arrive in Tokyo, Ami?"

       "Not that much," I look down.  "Probably take in the Ginza with
the rest of the class.  I'd sort of like to get a peek of the grounds
around the Imperial Palace.  Sometimes when I was a little girl I'd
look at pictures of the gardens and pretend I was a princess, like in
a fairy tale or something."

       "Speaking of fairy tales, check that out," the brunette indicated
the large television screen within the rail station.  It was tuned to
the national news.

       "They sure get enough press, don't they?  Even here."

       Another home video of the Sailor Senshi.  Whoever taped it must
not have gotten there until whatever villain or monster they were
fighting had been defeated.  It just showed them standing there at a
distance, in the aftermath, talking and smiling, except for Sailor Mars,
who was waving her finger at Sailor Moon, almost like she was scolding
her.

       "If given the chance, I think I'd like to be Sailor Jupiter,"
my brunette friend chuckles, almost daydreaming.

       "Why Ayumi, how surprising.  Even though you do sort of look like
her, from what I've read, she's something of a brawler, and you
certainly don't fit that type.  I doubt you could defeat a cricket."

       "Unlike you, Katsuko?" she throws back to the black-haired girl.
"I suppose you want to be Sailor Mars since you seem to have a 
propensity for those red fuku and heels.  Yeah, I think that would fit
you just fine . . ."

       While they began their daily mock argument my blonde friend
slowly approached, noticing that I was staring at the screen.

       "Who would you be, Ami?  I mean, if . . ."

       I laugh.  "Oh I don't know, Chiharu.  I suppose all of them lead
fairly interesting lives.  Look at Sailor Mercury there, however.  Do
you ever notice how she's always got that serene and contented look?
I like that, and I don't think it has anything to do with her being a
Sailor Senshi.  I think it's deeper.  I suppose I'd be her if I had to,
but given a choice, I think I'd rather remain here with my friends and
family.  After all, who's going to help you pack your bag?"

       "Ami . . .," she began, surprised by my response.  Realizing
that she was at a loss for words, she laughed and tried to brighten my
spirits before we stepped on the train, which had just arrived at the
station.  "Ami, I would have guessed that you would have said Sailor 
Venus, since your blonde hair looks almost exactly like hers.  Change 
your purple ribbon for a red one and you're almost her twin.  Do you 
think we'll see them while we're there?"

       "I think the best question is, whether they're going to see *us*
since we're the ones who are going to be taking the town by storm."  
Katsuko always had a way of lightening the situation.

       "Let's go and find out," I say.  "Tokyo's waiting, and it's time
to expand our horizons . . ."

       "And find a boyfriend!" Chiharu throws in.

       "And find a boyfriend . . ." Katsuko and Ayumi sighed in unison.

       "And find a boyfriend for you three," I laughingly completed 
the sequence as I stepped onto the train.

       I bet Sailor Mercury doesn't have these problems . . .

       * * * * *

       My name is Mizuno Ami, and I am a first-year student at Oshikawa
High in the Ikuta section of Kobe.  My father is in public relations at
a local investment house and my mother is a housewife.  I have one 
brother and one sister, both younger than I am.  I have had a wonderful
boyfriend for two years now.  My favorite subject is literature.  I am
not too good at math, but I try.

       Sometimes I wonder how the other half lives.  I wonder whether
there is such a thing as a fairy tale life, with heroes and princesses
and eternal love and friendship.  I wonder whether destiny places us in
our roles or if it was rather a stroke of luck off of some deity's 
fleeting thought.  I wonder if there is something more to our ordinary
lives other than what we've been taught to believe is "ordinary."

       And then I remember that I don't have to wonder.

       I'm living my life as I am.

                        - - - - x - - - -




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

Author's Notes:

This is my Ami story, and I'm sticking by it.

Sailor Moon and associated characters are the intellectual property of
Takeuchi Naoko and/or Toei, DiC, Bandai, Kodansha and a host of other
ethereal corporate entities.

One of the first things I did when I first used the internet was 
searching for people who had the same name as I.  I found that I shared
a name with both a world-famous yacht racer and an accused murderer in
New England.  This story is inspired from the thinking that followed
that discovery.

All comments, questions, anecdotes, stock tips, can be sent to:

       gradient@thedoghousemail.com

or visit my homepage to see my theory about Sailor Moon (one day, maybe
my poor counter will break the double-digit barrier):

       http://members.tripod.com/gradient

I really do enjoy getting mail and am happy to answer all questions
about the story.

Thank you for your time.  Two stories remaining . . .

"The Other Half"       +Gradient          August 1998

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I yam what I am an' tha's all what I yam.

                                   -- Popeye the Sailor Man
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