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* Circles of Time: A Sailormoon Fanfic Series *
*                                             *
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* http://www.geocities.com/tokyo/9897/ct.htm  *
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THE INFAMOUS DISCLAIMER:

Sailormoon and the characters of "Bishoujo Senshi Sailormoon" were 
created and belong to Takeuchi Naoko.  Other companies such as 
Kodansha, Toei Animation, Bandai, CWI, and Mixx Entertainment hold 
rights to the show and/or manga.  In other words, I do not.  My stories 
and the characters I create belong to me.  And if you use any of my 
characters or stories without my permission I will send Tuxedo Kamen 
after you with his cane!  I mean it!  (Anybody got a peanut?)

=======================================================================


I feel displaced in my kingdom of disgrace
And I feel shamefaced for the sin I know I can't replace

And I can't help but feeling a little low down
Or shouldn't if be the other way around?
It seems my smile appears upside-down
I guess then it's called a frown

I'm falling down, broken my crown
I feel like a king who's lost everything
I'm falling down, down to the ground
Will you catch me, because I'm falling
I'm falling down

	"Fallen King"
	LaRue

~*~*~

"When I grow up, I want to be just like Papa."

I said that to my father when I was seven years old.  He just smiled 
and said, "Is that so?" I could tell it upset him.  For years I never 
understood why until I left home.  My father had done things in his 
life he was not proud of.  He used to drink hard liquor after working 
on the docks or in the rice paddies, and sometimes he drank too much.  
He was never violent or abusive towards his family, but it still upset 
my mother.  That was all before I was born.  He accepted Christ and 
stopped his old habits.  Still, he faltered, but let's face it - no one 
is perfect.  And that was what he tried to teach me.  People are not 
meant to mimic other people, no matter how great they are.  If you are 
going to mimic someone, it should be God, or whoever you believe in.  
When I realized that, I also realized that I HAD become my father.  I 
became the same drunken teenager, trying to be an adult, who didn't 
learn until his darkest moment.  Now that, I am not proud of.

So if I have a son, I hope he doesn't want to be like me. 

	~ Hitori


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Circles of Time: The Letter
By: Masked Maiden

Chapter Two: Chiba Hitori (Lonely Earth)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


September 2, 1945
Osaka, Japan

Since he was born nothing existed but war.  The world he knew was a 
violent, loathing, malice-filled sphere turning round and around on an 
infernal axis somewhere in space.  Any love and mercy that wanted to 
rain down upon it didn't seem to enter.

But love still existed, in small forms that wanted to grow and blossom 
like the wildflowers in the springtime.  If only it would catch the 
wind and move across the word like a wildfire.  Everything would 
change.  The loneliness, heartbreak, and depression would disappear 
from his world and hide until the day they were released again.  He 
would no longer feel such disheartening emotions.  A burden would be 
lifted from the world.  The soldiers could finally come home.  
Villagers would no longer feel the need to expect the fearful sound of 
a siren, shrieking warnings of air raids that resulted in destruction.  
Wives would no longer moan in the night over the absences of their 
husbands.  Fathers and mothers would no longer worry about their sons, 
who were in combat.  Young girls at the age of marriage would not 
longer cry over their young suitors.  Children would no longer ask 
about the reality and the meaning of death.  If grief had to come, it 
would dwindle away until it was tolerable.  The cloud, that dark, 
depressing cloud, over his native village would be lifted the moment 
war was no more. 

If only war would end.  For war was only a three-letter substitution 
for the word hell.  Would war be the only thing to ever exist?  Would 
he ever live to understand the presence of peace?

The five-year-old boy sat with his knees close to his chest on the 
sands of the morning beach.  It was his favorite spot.  When the world 
he knew became too much to bear, he ran off to the beaches near his 
home and sat there for hours, losing himself in its tranquility.  He 
watched the boats by the docks as they sailed on the sparkling Pacific 
Ocean and off towards the distant horizon.  Nets that would catch 
thousands of sea creatures were lowered to the ocean and submerged into 
its depths.

The salty ocean breeze waltzed in the ether.  It blew his short, dark 
ebony hair away from his eyes.  His eyes were a match for the ocean, a 
perfect deep blue - too deep for such a bundle of innocence.  The 
breeze also blew through his faded pants and shirt, but it didn't faze 
him.  Sitting there many times before had made him immune to the wind.  
Living by the ocean helped as well.  In any case, the wind was his 
safety blanket.  When all was doubtful the breeze told him not 
everything was lost.

Ah, the beautiful ocean... his father loved it.  His father was raised on 
the ocean, for he was a fisherman's son.  When he became an adult his 
father became a fisherman as well.  It was the only thing his father 
could do; he had little education when he was young.  When he returned 
from the war, he would become that fisherman once again.

The boy couldn't remember ever seeing his father in person.  When his 
father had been home, he was only a newborn.  In fact, just weeks after 
he was born, an army truck and a soldier with a bullhorn came to the 
seashore village and ordered that all men sixteen to thirty years of 
age to join the army.  His father was merely twenty, already married 
with a three-year-old son and new baby to care for.


	The soldier with the bullhorn was tall and proud, with a loud and powerful 
	voice that almost exposed a hidden fear in each person's heart.  "As 
	followers of our glorious, all mighty, and divine Hirohito, let us as one 
	shine like he and show the world we are the greatest nation!"

	His three-year-old boy was sitting on his shoulders.  The boy leaned close 
	to his ear and whispered, "But I thought God's the greatest."

	He set his son on the ground and stepped away from the crowd, towards the 
	soldier.  He stuck out like a black sheep.  "I've got something against 
	war period," he said.  "Seriously, do we all have to fight?"

	The soldier looked at him with apathy.  "To not fight is a dishonor to our 
	Hirohito, to our nation, and to your family name."

	"I prefer to have a dishonored life if it meant eternal life after I 
	died."

	"You're one of those hell raising Christians that keep popping up, aren't 
	you?  Well there are no exceptions in this war.  Every one of you men that 
	is to fight *will* fight... and all of you will fight for Hirohito."


The act of bravery, or insanity as some of the villagers thought, didn't help 
his father.  He became one of the many young men forced into battle.  (Some of 
the landowners just outside the village were able to escape their war duties by 
persuasion.  One man gave his daughter's hand in marriage to the soldier with 
the bullhorn.  Neither was ever seen again.) 

The boy kept staring at the massive boats.  From the pictures hanging on the 
walls at home, he could imagine his father on one of those boats.  His mother 
always told him his could, "hoist those nets with his strong arms and never 
flinch.  He was doing just that the first time I ever saw him."

"Mama, don't tell me that part."

"Well, when you're older a pretty girl will catch your eye in a similar way."

He shook his head at the thought.  The only girl he could ever love was his 
mother.  But she wasn't really a girl.  She was Mama! 

Just barely visible over the horizon were war ships, gliding across the tepid 
salt water.  He hadn't seen any of those in a while.  They were headed towards 
the military base east of his village.

>From behind him, his older brother was running his direction.

"HI-TO-RI!"

The eight-year-old slid down a sand dune and almost lost his balance at the 
bottom.  The breeze caught his soil colored hair and his clothes, faded blue 
jeans with a hole at one of the knees and a cotton shirt.  His eyes were on his 
brother - the same piercing blue eyes he had.  In an awkward sequence, he 
recovered his balance and then started pulling Hitori up by the arm, dragging 
him.

"Akio, what are you doing?"

"Mama wants us home.  The war's over!"

That made Hitori stand straight up.  It gave him enough energy to keep up with 
his brother as they ran all the way home.

Ah... home.  It was no more than a wooden shanty far enough to escape the high 
tides of the ocean.  The fields of rice paddies a half-kilometer away looked 
more pleasing to the eye.  But the small shanty had no holes in the roof, some 
electricity, and a hand pump for water at the sink.  It was always clean and 
well tended.  It was more than a lot of people had in that part of the 
neighborhood.

The place was home.  That was the best thing about it. 

The mother, Katsumi was turning the volume louder on the transistor radio as she 
heard their footsteps and thrown shoes on the front porch.

Hitori jumped into Katsumi's arms, and without missing a beat, asked, "Mama, 
when's Papa coming home?"

Katsumi placed a finger on her lips, telling him and Akio to remain quiet for a 
few minutes.  "I don't know, sweetie.  Let's listen to the news, though.  Maybe 
we'll find out when the soldiers will start coming home."  She sat on one of the 
cushions on the floor with her feet tucked beneath her.  Hitori found a 
comfortable seat in his mother's lap while Akio sat on his knees on the hard 
floor, contently leaning on the low kitchen table and listening to the radio.

"... Fellow citizens of our great rising sun, the war we have fought for years 
is finally over.  On the American battleship Missouri, anchored in our Tokyo 
Bay, our representatives signed the formal document of surrender.  The soldiers 
who have fought with determination and fearlessness will be ordered to leave 
their stations over the next few weeks.

"I know all of us, as a whole, have suffered many tribulations.  We have lost 
loved ones, our homes, and the security we all once had.  Many of you feel you 
do not want to continue.  That is intolerable.  With honor we must face these 
hard days ahead.  And we must stand tall and proud so we may be able to rebuild 
this country ever greater than before..."

Katsumi turned the radio off.  It was shock to hear that man's voice on the 
radio.  She could only imagine almost all of Japan weeping at the sound of his 
voice.  The joy it must have brought, and yet the shame.  Even she felt of tinge 
of honor to be able to hear his voice. 

"Who was that?" Hitori asked.

"That was the emperor," Katsumi answered.

"But I thought no one was supposed to know what he sounds like."

Katsumi didn't know what to tell her son, so she only shrugged.  "That's how 
it's always been.  I guess it's changed."  Still, it's a little too late for the 
emperor to become humble and meek, she thought. 

Akio looked over to his mother.  "This means Papa should be coming home soon.  
Right, Mama?"

"I hope so.  There are a lot of soldiers that will be returning home.  It'll 
take weeks or months for all of them to return.  Your papa might be one of the 
last ordered to leave."

"But he could be one of the first, right?" Hitori asked.

Katsumi smiled, but it was a melancholic smile.  She stood and placed her 
youngest son on the cushion she had sat on.  She walked over to the counter 
where she had been cutting vegetables.

"Let's pray Papa comes home, period.  When he comes home, and I'm sure he will, 
it will be on the army's schedule, not ours.  Just be patient, you two.  He'll 
be home soon."

She grabbed an onion and started cutting it.  Tears began to appear.  If her 
boys found her crying, she wanted them to think it was the onion that was the 
cause.  She didn't want them to realize that she was worried, and almost 
doubtful.  She hadn't received a letter from her husband, Takeo, for two months.  
Katsumi prayed her husband was alive, but without word from him, she let the 
doubt take over.

One month passed, and still there was no word from Takeo.  The possibility of 
her husband's demise became more and more a reality.  She constantly prayed that 
it wasn't so.  She wanted to him, if not for her wishes then for her two boys.  
Akio could hardly remember him, and Hitori had never even seen him.  Her sons 
deserved to know their father.

"Maybe Papa will be here tomorrow," Hitori said.  He would always say that, 
every day.  Katsumi was to the point she couldn't take it anymore.

"Possibly, but let's not get our hopes up.  It could be another months before we 
hear from him."

"But he could be here tomorrow, right?"

"I don't know, sweetie."

Before the month of November ended, their father did return home.  The moment 
Takeo saw his wife and children for the first time in five years, he cried.  A 
man who rarely shed tears of either joy or sorrow wept without shame when they 
were finally in his arms.  Seeing his sons' faces made him realize how much he 
loved them, as if missing them didn't make him realize the depths of his 
feelings for them.  It also made him realize how much of their lives he had 
missed.  It was only through photographs his wife sent him that he saw his sons 
grow up.  But he missed so many milestones.  Could he ever make it up to them?

Yet the war had changed Takeo.  He was still the same loving, caring husband and 
father, but he was a changed man in many ways.  He looked older than his twenty-
five years, aged by the panorama of the massacre and brutality of the Second 
World War.  His ocean blue eyes that once had shined like stars were now dulled 
by gunfire, swords, and bloodshed.  His skin had become rough and callused.  He 
appeared more rigid, more robust than before.  An entirely different shell of 
flesh and muscle contained him. 

At night visions of the war entered his dreams, making him wake up in cold 
sweats and with a frantic heartbeat.  Sometimes his mind would drift off, back 
to the front line.  Such visions matured him in ways he didn't desire.  He felt 
different, and he didn't like it.  Was he the same person? Yes, but he had been 
molded into a pawn to fit war's chessboard.  He had been used and now was no 
longer needed.  Was that a way to live?

Katsumi could see the change.  Even Akio and Hitori could see there was 
something not quite right.  The knowledge of evil, death and the grim realities 
of war had taken its toll on Takeo, and that knowledge would never go away.

Gradually, things grew back to the way they should have been.  The missing piece 
to the puzzle had found its way home.  But one year later another piece of the 
puzzle was added.  During one night in mid December, Katsumi gave birth to a 
healthy baby girl.  The weather rarity of snow was falling outside that night as 
well.  So Takeo and Katsumi named their new daughter Yuki. 

Hitori loved his sister the moment he saw her, and he loved being the big 
brother.  No longer being the youngest had its appeal for him.  He was growing 
up.  But, even though it didn't really matter, he kind of hoped for a baby 
brother.

Even so, the family of four became a family of five.  Things for the Chiba 
Family couldn't be much better.  Although they were financially poor and lived 
in a cramp house in the not-so-perfect neighborhood, there was enough love to 
make all things balance.  A person could not live off of love alone, yet a 
person had to make the effort to.  Hitori loved his life in the village.  His 
childish love for God and his love for his parents made it all bearable, even 
pleasant.  His childish faith in God told him that nothing bad would ever come 
their way.

How nice it was to be a child.  That blanket of soft innocence that protected 
them form the reality of the world, even when deep down inside the child knew 
what reality really was, especially after seeing a war in front of his eyes.  
But the blind faith that made a person see, and the love for God along with the 
faith and love towards his family, convinced a child that no harm could ever 
come their way again.  What sweet things a child would think about, and how 
harsh it was for a child to realize that not everything in life can ever be as 
sweet as candy coated sugar drops.

When Hitori entered junior high, he began to notice a few changes in his happy 
life.  Now an adolescent, going through the changes an adolescent boy would go 
through, he simply started to see things that he had never bothered to notice 
before.  Girls were one thing, but that particular topic was not on his mind 
(oddly enough) as he tried studying for a physical science test.

The person on his mind was his mother.  Hitori noticed changes in her behavior 
that made him concerned about her health.  She was occasionally fatigued and 
short of breath.  Those "spells" often occurred after Katsumi would come home 
from the marketplace.  Hitori also noticed her complexion was paler.  Katsumi 
always had a pale complexion for someone living by the ocean.  Everyone else in 
her family, including Yuki, had deep tanned olive skin.  It stayed with them 
from summer to fall.  Now, Katsumi looked like a living ghost.

Hitori confronted Katsumi with his concern several times.  He did that day as 
well, but Katsumi said, as always, "Sweetie, you're worrying too much.  Don't 
worry, I'm fine."

"Mama, you're not fine.  Everyone can tell."

"Really?  Why does everyone have to know what's going on?  Why can't you just 
leave me alone?  I said I'm fine, and that means I'm fine!"

Hitori fell silent, appalled and unable to say anything else.  Yuki, who had 
been sitting beside him coloring, hid behind his chair and started to softly 
whimper.  He picked her up and placed her in his lap.  She clung to him and 
cried.  Hitori knew how his little sister felt, for he felt the same way.  Their 
mother was a calm and genteel woman.  Not once in her life had she raised her 
voice at any of her children.  Witnessing that for the first time shocked 
Hitori, and it scared him.  Now he was certain his mother was sick.

Katsumi saw her baby girl cry because of her outburst, and then she saw the fear 
and shock in both of their faces.  She looked away, ashamed at herself.  She 
didn't mean to upset her children like that.

Hitori carried Yuki to the bedroom to calm her down before he apologized to his 
mother.  He figured his mother wanted to be alone for a moment, and he could 
tell it hurt her to see Yuki in tears over something she needn't apologize for.

"Mama's not mad at you," Hitori said to Yuki.

The six-year-old sniffled and rubbed her eyes, finally calming down.  "Then why 
did she yell?" she asked.

"She's just worn out.  Will you stay in here while I talk to her?"

Yuki nodded, with the request of having her big brother bring her crayons and 
coloring book to her.  Hitori did so (anything for his sister, as long as it 
kept her quiet) and then walked back into the kitchen to apologize.  He felt he 
should apologize.  After all, if he hadn't said anything, his mother wouldn't 
have gotten upset and his baby sister wouldn't have cried.

He saw Katsumi searching for something under the sink.  She reached inside the 
cabinet and produced an onion.  Hitori knew that old trick.  Whenever his mother 
wanted to hide her tears she would mask them with tears from the onion fumes.  
He took the onion away before his mother had the chance to pick up the knife.

Katsumi looked at her son with shocked-painted eyes.  "Hitori...?"

"I know that trick too well, Mama.  You've used it too many times."  He put the 
onion back on the counter and kissed his mother on the cheek.  "I'm sorry."

Katsumi leaned on the counter, supporting herself with her elbows.  She shook 
her head.  "You don't have to apologize, sweetie.  I'm the one that should.  I 
shouldn't have yelled at you.  I know you and everyone else is worry about me... 
I bet Yuki won't even speak to me now..."

"The chatterbox will always speak, and to anyone."

The comment brought a smile to Katsumi's face.  "I suppose you're right."

Hitori was silent for a moment before speaking again.  "Mama, why don' you admit 
you're sick?  You and everyone else know there's something wrong.  Even Yuki can 
see it."

"Because I don't think it's that serious.  It's probably just a bug."

"A two-month bug?  I'm not a doctor, but I think that's kinda suspicious."

Katsumi faintly smiled, but it gradually faded away.  "I know you mean well, but 
please, there is nothing to worry about.  If it does get worse, which I don't 
think it will, I will promise to go see the doctor.  But as of now I don't see 
any need to."

As the month drifted away, there were no changes in Katsumi's health.  She still 
suffered from spells of fatigue and shortness of breath whenever she overworked 
herself.  Whether if was in the garden, cleaning the house, or walking to the 
marketplace, anything requiring a lot of physical energy slowed her down.  There 
were days when Katsumi was to tired to do anything.  Still, she would not give 
in and see a doctor.

Hitori and Akio knew their mother was stubborn.  They decided to work around 
that stubbornness by helping with some of the housework.  At first, she insisted 
on doing everything except their regular chores by herself, like she always had.  
However, she finally gave in.  The two brothers let Yuki help them out with 
little things since she was still too young to do most of the housework, but 
being at the age where she wanted to feel important by helping.

Hitori saw to it that he was the one that went to the marketplace after school 
every Saturday afternoon.  He made sure to take Yuki with him.  Having the 
youngest child out of the house helped their mother to complete her work and it 
gave her time alone.  Those Saturday nights after supper, Hitori cleaned the 
kitchen with Akio's help.

On the rest of the days of the week, Akio got stuck with most of the cleaning.  
He didn't complain about it.  Akio knew he wasn't the one that had baseball 
practice after school with only enough time at home to do his regular chores, 
eat, do his homework, and then go to bed.  They wanted to help, of course, but 
there was no reason for Hitori to sacrifice something he loved to do.  Takeo had 
said that from the beginning.  Akio hoped it never came to that, for his 
brother's sake.  If their mother got any worse, there was no telling what would 
happen next.

Their mother did get worse.

In 1952, during the second week of July, a Wednesday afternoon, a sunny and 
beautiful day, Katsumi was diagnosed with cancer.

Cancer - it was another term for a slow and painful death

The doctors said nothing could be done.  Katsumi had waited too long and 
therefore there was no treatment to exterminate it.  Too much of the cancer had 
spread throughout her body.  Medication to lessen the pain had been prescribed, 
and she underwent treatments to slow down the spread of the cancer, but it was 
to no avail.  It was only buying her days, not months or years to live.

She died two weeks after Hitori's fifteen birthday.

Many of the neighbors thought it was a punishment sent by the Kami.

The people of Japan saw the Christian faith as a disgrace to their ancient and 
firm traditions.  In their minds the man with the name of Jesus Christ was a 
commoner, not a god, for he died between to thieves when he shed his blood for 
mankind's sins.  It was not a death that brought honor to his name.  With the 
background of powerful and ruthless gods and leaders, the Japanese thought the 
Jesus Christ god could have used his powers to save the world - in other words, 
prove he was an almighty god - instead of lowering himself to be a common piece 
of flesh. 

"It doesn't help that we live in a country that is so fanatically tied to ideas 
of honor," Akio once said.  "Jesus died on the cross, but here in Japan, the 
cross was used only for the basest of criminals.  People can't see that He came 
to Earth as a man to raise us all up.  They only see the dishonor of dying on 
the cross."

Even with these views, the Christian faith grew, but it was still too small and 
too weak in numbers to change the minds and traditions that dated back into the 
early centuries of civilization.  They weren't asking to bring everyone into 
their religion, because that could never happen.  Everyone had the right to what 
they believed in.  What they wanted was acceptance, and a little more respected 
than they received.

The respect worse thin when the town heard about Katsumi's cancer.  Most of them 
were convinced Katsumi had been punished by the Kami for following the man 
Christ.  They talked about it behind the backs of her family members.  If only 
Katsumi had disbelieved the fairy tales, the Kami would have no reason to exile 
her from paradise.


	"Well, that's what you get for not obeying the Kami and not honoring the 
	Emperor.  Such people as that should be punished.  I'm glad the Kami 
	struck her with their wrath."

	"Still, it's sad.  I feel sorry for her husband and children.  Don't you?"

	"Not the least bit.  When she dies then they could very well learn that 
	the Kami are the only way to paradise."

	Hitori put his hand over his sister's mouth before she yelled at the two 
	ladies in the marketplace.  When Yuki couldn't yell she cried silently on 
	her brother's shoulder as he carried her.  Seeing her cry was even more 
	painful for him.

	"They shouldn't say things like that about Mama..." Yuki whimpered.

	"They don't know any better."


Hitori had always tuned out the messages of the secular world.  Now that his 
mother was dead, he wondered if punishment *was* somewhere in the matter.  Not 
toward his mother, but perhaps toward him.

Was God punishing him?

His best friend laughed at the idea.  "What reason would God want to punish you?  
None of us is perfect."  After he saw the downcast expression on Hitori's face, 
he wished he hadn't laugh.

Akio took the more concern approach.  "It's not your fault that any of this 
happened.  Sad to say, things like this happen for no reason.  But it's not 
fault."

Takeo said something similar to his son, but he could it didn't help him any.  
Hitori was convinced he had done something wrong.

Maybe he didn't think he was being punished.  Hitori concluded it might be 
something else.  Maybe he was mad at God.  

Hitori remembered the day of the funeral.  Everyone from their small church 
attended, as well as the members of Katsumi's family that had not disowned her 
for her religious preference - her cousin and her great aunt.  Light gray clouds 
covered the sky and darkened the Earth as drizzles of rain fell down.  The mood 
seemed appropriate.

It was also the first time Hitori could remember himself crying.


	Akio placed a comforting hand on his younger brother's shoulder.  It felt 
	like a chip was being placed on his shoulder.  Hitori wanted to walk away 
	from the funeral.  He didn't want to be there, for being there meant he 
	had to accept the fact his mother was dead.  But it was real.  He could 
	feel it, hear it, touch it, see it, and even taste it.

	"And though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no 
	evil, for You are with me.  Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me..."

	You're not here, Hitori thought.  You never were, You never hear, and 
	never will be.  Where were you when Mama got cancer?  Where were You when 
	she cried at night from the pain?  Where were You when all she wanted was 
	to die in peace and see Your face?  Some comfort You bring to Your 
	followers.  You showed no comfort or mercy to Mama, and You showed none to 
	Otou-chan, Akio, Yuki, or me.  Did you forget us?  Well, forget You, God!  
	I don't want to have anything to do with You!  To hell with Your mercy, to 
	tell with Your peace, and to hell with You!


Thinking back to that moment of cursing God three years later didn't help the 
anger that had started to dwell inside of Hitori since his mother's death.  It 
only worsened the rage.  The anger continued to brew and grow, until it was the 
only thing that kept him from dying.  Anger was the only thing he could feel.  
There was no room for anything else, yet there was that bottomless pit in his 
soul that he couldn't fill.  In only kept getting bigger.

Something was missing in his life, but he didn't know what it was.

His family noticed the gradual change in him.  So did his best friend and his 
friend's fiancé, who knew Hitori as well as anyone else.  All of them tried 
talking to him, but their wholehearted attempts to help him proved to be in 
vain.  Hitori wouldn't talk to anyone, not even his best friend, whom he 
confessed more things to than his own brother or father. 

A month after their mother's death Akio left his home to go to a seminary 
college in Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo.  When Akio was sixteen their pastor took him under 
his wing and he became an "apprentice" under him.  Thanks to the pastor, Akio 
was able to attend the college.  It was said that when the pastor retired, Akio 
would take his place.  He was the only one that was knowledgeable enough in the 
scriptures, but most importantly, his heart was filled with the calling to 
preach.  

Akio was reluctant to leave home.  His brother was the reason.  He was concerned 
about him and wanted to help, but Hitori showed without words that he didn't 
want any help.  There was nothing to do but go according to Akio's plans.  
Hitori wished his brother well when he left, but deep down he didn't want him to 
leave.  It felt as if he was gone forever too.

Whenever the anger growing inside of him was to the point he couldn't take it 
anymore, he tried to suppress it, compact it into a tiny ball in the pit of his 
soul.  He did that by trying not to think about it.  

Baseball was his sport.  When he was younger he played in little league, and 
when he grew out of little league, he joined his junior high school's team.  He 
became so good that he never joined the junior varsity team when he entered high 
school; Hitori went straight to varsity.  From three-thirty to five o'clock he 
stayed after school and kept himself occupied on either the field or in the gym 
on days there were no practice.  It was said that physical activity was a type 
of release for negative emotions, a type of therapy.  But to Hitori it was more 
of a drug - for a while he was on a blissful high, and then he came crashing 
back onto the ground again.

When baseball didn't work, girls did.  Hitori had grown up to be an attractive 
young man, and one of the most sought out seniors at his high school.  He 
couldn't understand that.  He wasn't that involved with his school except for 
baseball, but the girls loved him.  There was never a problem finding a date... 
and there was something about having a beautiful, young, vibrant girl in his 
arms.  "Making love" to her and the intense, encompassing, rush of desire had 
such an intoxicating appeal.  He forgot everything else - his anger, his fear 
and worries - and was able to totally lose himself in the pleasures of the 
moment.   But like the "high" from sports, it wore out all too soon and he came 
crashing back to the earth again.   

Soon, those things lost its touch.

Then he started something else.

In 1958, he started drinking during his senior year of high school.

And since he was so popular, he got invited to a late of parties.  Loud parties, 
parties where there was music, sex, drinking, drugs, and no parental units in 
sight.

Hitori got so bad that his father never knew where he was when he left to go out 
and "hang with friends."  But his best friend always knew where to look.  He was 
the one that helped him out of his pity of anger later on.

Eighteen-year-old Oosaka Mamoru drove up to the abandon beach house near the 
outskirts of the community with Takeo's rusted old pick-up truck.  The owners of 
the beach house moved away ten years ago when they could no longer afford to 
live so near to the ocean, and so it became popular with the high school 
students - especially for parties with drinking, loud music, dancing, late night 
"courting" with a lady or man... Mamoru couldn't stand those things, and he 
wondered how he ever made friends with Hitori.

Mamoru was the complete opposite of Hitori, from their physical looks to their 
personalities.  He was a perfect six foot six, the tallest in his family, which 
were his father, his mother, his older sister, and his two younger sisters.  His 
hair was long and beach sand blond, going past his shirt collar.  At times he 
tried to grow some facial hair, but all he got was a peach fuzz goatee that 
never looked right, so he quit after many futile attempts.  His eyes were a dark 
brown, two pieces of chocolate.  He didn't look eighteen.  He didn't look like 
the model Christian, let alone the religious type.  And he certainly didn't look 
like the type Hitori hung out with.

Looks were always deceiving.  

When he was six years old, Mamoru's family started going to the small country 
church, the only church near the village.  That was where he met Hitori.  Hitori 
was the only his age that went to the church.  Both of them were ecstatic to 
have someone their age to play with after church.  It didn't take long for them 
to be "glued" to each other.  Over the years they made other friends, but they 
always stuck with each other.   "Friends can come a dime a dozen," Takeo once 
said, "but there's always that one you're stuck with for the rest of your 
life... whether you like it or not." 

Everything changed when "Katsumi-mama" (Mamoru always called her that) died.  
Their friendship began to tear at the seams.  Hitori no longer wanted to hang 
out with Mamoru; he started hanging out with the wrong crowd.  He wouldn't even 
talk to him anymore.  But Mamoru knew he had to stick by him.  There would be a 
time soon when Hitori would want to talk, and if he wouldn't talk to his father 
or sister, he could talk to him.

Besides, someone had to get him out of trouble before he was too drunk to stand.

Mamoru parked the truck away from the cluster of teenagers and vehicles and 
walked to the house.  The music could be heard a mile away.  If it didn't get 
any quieter, Mamoru had a feeling someone would call the authorities.  He had to 
get his friend out of there before that happened.

There was a young freshman boy leaning on the doorpost, blocking half of the 
doorway.  Mamoru squeezed through and then shouted to the boy, "You know where 
Chiba Hitori is?"

"Who?" the boy shouted back.

"Hitori!"

"Oh... Chiba-kun.  He's upstairs."

Man, that's the one place I don't wanna go, Mamoru thought.  "With who?"

"I don't know, some chick in his class."

Mamoru elbowed his way through the crowd and went upstairs.  All the doors 
upstairs were closed, just as he assumed.  Now his job was to find out which 
room Hitori was in without barging in on anyone else.

"Please let me find him..."

He did, and not a moment too soon.  Mamoru went to the last room on the hall and 
swung the door open.

The unexpected visitor caught Hitori and his "girlfriend" in the middle of 
making out on an old and worn bed.  The only thing wrong with the scene was 
Hitori had somehow lost his shirt, and the young girl was in the process of 
losing hers.

Mamoru walked over to them and picked up his friend's shirt.  He threw it at 
him, making sure it landed on top of his head.  "Hitori, put your shirt on the 
let's go," he said, stern.  "Now."

Hitori threw the shirt back at Mamoru.  "I'm not leaving."  There was the scent 
of stale beer that seemed to radiate from him. 

"Do you even know what you're doing?"

Hitori got up and looked his friend in the eye... Well, he tried to.  He had to 
find him first before he could actually do that.  He couldn't stand up straight 
for all he was worth, and he couldn't focus on anything.

"Yeah," he said.  "I know what I'm doing.  I'm getting laid.  Did you hear that?  
I'm getting laid!"

Mamoru fanned away the bad breath they best he could.  "Hit Man, you're drunk.  
Let me take you home."

"What if I refuse to go home?"

"This'll happen."  Mamoru picked Hitori up right off his feet.  Before Hitori 
could even contemplate what was going on, he was over Mamoru's shoulders and 
carried away like a sack of potatoes.

"Say goodnight, Hitori," Mamoru said.

"Goodnight, Hitori." 

Mamoru turned to the young girl on the bed, who looked at them with a total 
blank expression.  "I'd advise you to go home as well," he said.

She was at the bottom of the stairs with her shirt on and out the door before 
they were.

When the two friends were far enough from the beach house, Mamoru released 
Hitori and allowed him to fall on his back on the sandy beach.  Hitori swore 
under his breath when he felt the impact of the fall.  Mamoru dropped the shirt 
on Hitori's face.

"Put it on and let's go."

"Don't be so bossy..."

"PUT IT ON!"

"Okay!  Geez..."

Hitori picked himself up and put his shirt back on while he trudged to the 
truck.  Mamoru followed him from behind, watching him like a hawk.  Hitori 
opened the door to the truck and crawled inside.  He didn't feel like lifting 
another limb for the rest of his life.  Mamoru shook his head and closed the 
door for his friend.  He got into the truck and threw the keys to the other side 
where a hand grabbed them.

"Why don't you drive," Mamoru said.

"I think I will."

Hitori looked up and saw his father sitting in the passenger seat.  His short 
life flashed before his drunken eyes.  "Oh God..."

"I'll deal with you when we get home," Takeo said. 

Takeo hopped out of the truck and traded places with Mamoru.  He placed the key 
in the ignition and started the engine, driving toward his home.  No one spoke a 
word to each other.  Hitori was mad at his best friend and father.  Takeo was 
too disappointed in his son.  Mamoru didn't want to get caught in the crossfire.

It was almost midnight when Takeo drove up to his house.  He turned the engine 
off and put the keys in his pocket.  Mamoru got out of the truck and pulled 
Hitori to his side of the truck, helping out.  It was like pulling a dead person 
from a grave.  When Hitori was out of the truck he almost fell to the ground due 
to his brief handicap in balance.  With Mamoru on one side and Takeo on the 
other, they led the matter of dead weight into the house.

Yuki stayed up to wait for her brother and father to return.  She opened the 
door for them and took Mamoru's place as a weight supporter.  Mamoru backed out 
of the house and headed toward the door, ready to go home and go to sleep.  He 
lingered only long enough to see Hitori being lead to the bedroom.  In all the 
bleakness, he grinned at the thought of seeing his friend with a hangover in the 
morning. 

The next morning Hitori slugged into the kitchen with his school uniform on and 
with the worse hangover he ever had.  His shirttail was halfway in and his 
jacket was unbuttoned and barely hanging on his shoulders.  He held his head in 
his hand, trying to subdue the throbbing brought on by the active hangover and 
the loud ringing in his ears from his sister's ingenious wake up call.  (She 
took an empty coffeepot and banged it loudly like drum mere centimeters away 
from his ear.)  Every whisper or soft-spoken word was increased in volume by one 
hundred decibels and sounded like the person was shouting right in his ears.  He 
moaned and sat down at the table across from his father, putting his head down 
like a small child would during quiet time in kindergarten.

"Do you mind telling me what you did last night?" Takeo asked.

"Yes, in fact I do mind," Hitori groaned.  "And it's none of your business."

"I was expecting that.  Mamoru told me anyway.  He said he found you drunk, 
obviously, and with some girl in your homeroom class.  God only knows what you 
were doing.  Would you like to tell me or should I go by my assumptions?"

"No, your assumptions are probably right."

"That's what I thought."  Takeo leaned over the table.  "Have you lost your 
mind?!"

"Not like I haven't done it before!"

"I don't care!  Sit up and look at me."

Hitori only raised an eye upward.  That didn't satisfy his father; he could tell 
by the expression on the man's face, as well as the big vein on his neck that 
was bulging out .  He sat up, slouching, his hands folded, and looked up.  "So 
what?  I know I'm grounded."

"Oh, you're grounded all right, but that's only half of it.  For the next two 
months the only places you are allowed to go are to school, to church, and to 
your ball games.  You will be escorted by your sister, me, or Mamoru-kun before 
and after each place."

"What...?"

"And when you're home the only things I will allow you to do is your eat, sleep, 
homework, and chores.  And for a while you will do your chores and part of 
Yuki's chores, and that includes the bathroom on weekends.  There's no hanging 
with your friends after school, no beach trips on Sundays with the team, and no 
cruising on the truck."

"Otou-chan, that's not fair!"

"Well, I'm sorry, but life's not fair."  

Hitori stood up from the table and huffed towards the front door.  "I'm late for 
school," he said under his breath, even though he wasn't.  He walked out of the 
house and slammed the door shut behind him.

It wasn't any better at Taiheiyo High School.  Hitori's mathematics teacher 
called in to his office after school ended and handed him a test paper with a 
large, red 68 printed on the top.

"Chiba-san, this is the second failing grade you have gotten the entire school 
year," said his teacher.  "Never have I received grades such as this one from 
you, and I hope I don't have to grades another test like this one.  The make-up 
test is Saturday afternoon.  You must pass it or you'll fail math for the rest 
of the year, and then you'll have to repeat your senior year.  Be sure this 
doesn't happen again, and have your father sign that test for me."

Hitori stuffed the test in his book satchel and did his best to forget about it.

A little after three-thirty Hitori was at the baseball field on the other side 
of the campus, just behind the gymnasium.  He had suited up in the locker room 
in the gym, wore his red and white uniform with his red cap on backwards - it 
was the way he always wore it during practice.

At least I still have baseball, Hitori thought.  With my luck my coach will tell 
me to quit the team.  I bet he would if he found out I'm failing math.  And I 
still can't believe that.  I've always been good at math.

His coach pulled him away from the team before practice started.

"There was a scout here last week," he said.  "He saw one of the games.  It was 
the on where you hit those two home runs."

Hitori tried hiding his smile.  "Really?" he said.

"I'm sorry, Chiba, but he picked Akimoto.  Apparently Tokyo University isn't 
looking for hitters.  They want players that are flexible with positions.  But 
if you ask me, you should have gotten that scholarship."

After practice Mamoru was waiting for Hitori in the bleachers.  He told him 
everything from the morning sentence from his father to the disappointing news 
about the scholarship that should have been his. 

Hitori finally barked out his anger.  "I can't believe Otou-chan did that to me!  
And that damn Akimoto doesn't even need that scholarship!  His parents are 
landowners and can afford everything he damn well wants.  It should be *me* 
playing for Tokyo University next year!  And anyone who thinks differently ought 
to be told to shove it and blow it out their ass!"

Mamoru sighed and said with all the love he could possibly express at the 
moment, "Hit Man... before you were born, the word 'stupidity' didn't have a 
definition.  Now that if does, you're giving it a bad name." 

His friend glared at him.  "What does that mean?!"

"It means get off your high horse and stop acting like an idiot!"  He stopped 
Hitori in his tracks and demanded his attention.  When Hitori reluctantly gave 
it to him, Mamoru expressed his point of view, something he had wanted to tell 
for a long time.  

"So what," he said.  "You didn't get the scholarship to the college you wanted 
to go to.  There's a lot more colleges than Tokyo U.  It might be the best, but 
have you ever thought that it might not be the one for you?  Not every 
professional ball player comes from the best schools.  Maybe you're not even 
meant to play ball for a living.  And if baseball is the only thing you're 
worried about, you need to reevaluate your life.  For one thing, you're failing 
your best subject.  Your top priority should be studying for the make-up test.  
Another thing you should do is apologize to Takeo-papa."

"Do what?!" Hitori interrupted.  "Are you taking Otou-chan's side on this?"

"To tell you the truth, I am.  And if you want more of the truth, I think he 
went a little lenient on you.  You've been acting like a complete jackass and 
it's high time you started to straighten up!"

Hitori scowled.  "Some friend you are!  Now I don't have college, baseball, or 
my best friend.  I might as well die right now and be over with!"

The usually glib and jovial Oosaka Mamoru became silent and jagged when those 
words spilled from Hitori's tongue.  He was ready to punch him.  Joke or not, he 
didn't like the attitude.  Although he knew Hitori was only mad and blowing off 
hot steam in his directions, those words stung.  

"Don't you *ever* say anything like that *ever* again!"

"Doushite? Because your sister got the idea before I did?"

Mamoru's oldest sister committed suicide two years ago after taking a large dose 
of hallucination drugs - she jumped off the pier at the harbor.  No one saw it 
coming.

"Just shut up," he said.  He was too mad to say anything else.

~*~*~

What if I really was to end it all...?

Hitori laid his math test on the table and walked straight to his room, closing 
the door behind him.  Yuki came barging in with the test in her hand before he 
could even drop his books to the floor.

"Papa's already disappointed in you," she said.  "This test is only going to 
fuel the fire."

"Yuki, I'm warning you, get out."

She sighed.  "All right, fine.  Just do your homework so neither of us gets into 
trouble.  I don't want Papa any more upset than he already is."

Hitori kicked his books to the corner and stretched out on his futon, hands 
behind his head.  He looked up at the ceiling and pondered over scattered 
thoughts that blew like the wind in his mind.

Why do all these things have to happen to me?  I'm the one that should be going 
to Tokyo University next year.  I'm the one that led the team to two 
championships, and it'll be a third one this year.  I'm the one that goes to all 
the practices and stays after school every single day on my own time.  And I'm 
the one that covered right field for Akimoto when he sprained his knee!  What 
does that Akimoto have that I don't?

He knew what that one thing was - money.

Scholarships are meant for people that can't afford college.  So why are all the 
rich people hogging them?  Don't we poor people mean anything to the world?  
Probably not.  If we did we wouldn't be poor people.  We'd be at least middle 
class, if not rich snobs.  

This whole world stinks.  No one cares for the underdog, and no one cares about 
me enough to do anything.  Yuki's only worried about Otou-chan.  Akio's only 
worried about his studies at the seminary.  He hasn't written to us lately.  
Probably too busy with those fanatics.  Otou-chan won't leave me alone, and 
neither will Mamoru.  They want me to quit everything I love to do, just because 
*they* think it's sin.  I could care less what they think.  I have the right to 
drink if I want to, and I have a right to going out with my friends, party, and 
have a good time with the girls.  What is their problem?  Why can't they just 
leave me alone?

Leave me alone, that's all I ask.  I just want them to leave me alone.  I don't 
want to talk about my life, I don't to talk about Mama, and I certainly don't 
want to talk about how I feel about everything.  It's none of their business, no 
matter what they think!  I have a right to my privacy and so they should just 
keep out!  I bet they wouldn't even care if I went away!

Gone... I'd like to see the looks on their faces if I were gone.  Who am I 
kidding?  I hate my life.  I hate everything.  I hate feeling this anger inside 
of me.  And I hate this nagging feeling deep in my soul.  What am I missing?  
All I want is for this hell to end.  Maybe if I ended it all I could feel peace.  
The Shinto says that suicide is an honorable death.  Otou-chan and everyone at 
church says it's a sin.  What if it's not?  What if I was to end it all?  Could 
I finally feel peace?

Peace... I don't want any of this anger anymore.  All I want is peace.  I can't 
find it in sports, or girls, or booze.  Maybe death's the only way to experience 
peace.

But what would Mama say if she were alive?

Hitori brushed that thought away.  He felt this way because his mother had died.  
That was the root of it all.  If she hadn't died he would have probably aced 
that test, wouldn't be drinking, having sex with every girl that said "yes" to 
him, and he would have gotten the scholarship.

How would I do it?  Where would I do it?  I certainly wouldn't want to do it at 
home.  Yuki's always nosing around and I would be found out.  The beach house is 
a good place, but that's the first place they would look if they found out in 
time.  There's the loading dock.  No, they would look there too.  It has to be 
somewhere that isn't a dead giveaway.  There's the pier.  Yeah, the pier!  
Mamoru and I don't go there much since... since his sister died.  We use to go 
there all the time in the summer to swim.  And there at the pier on the beach I 
would sit and think.

The ocean's always been a comfort to me.  Maybe that's the best place to leave 
this world, in a safety blanket.  I could just jump off... I wouldn't even feel 
anything...


It was seven o'clock when Takeo came home from work at the harbor.  He took off 
his boots and washed his hands at the kitchen sink.  Yuki had just finished with 
cooking supper for the family.  Use to be, Yuki would fix too much food.  She 
was use to cooking for five when their mother was sick.  When she died, she had 
to get used to cooking for four, and when Akio moved away, she had to learn to 
cook for three.  Soon, she would have to only cook for two.  Hitori would 
probably go to school somewhere out of Osaka.  If he didn't go to college, no 
one would be surprised if he moved anyway.  

"Is Hitori here?" Takeo asked.

"Yep," said Yuki.  She started filling the ceramic bowls with hot, steaming 
rice.  "Onii-chan's been in his room since he came home from practice.  He's 
probably still mad.  He's said just six words to me the whole evening.  After 
that he's just kept to himself."

Takeo looked at the test.  Yuki had placed it back on the table.  He groaned 
inwardly and found a pen in one of the kitchen drawers to sign it with.  This 
was the second test he had to sign for Hitori.  He didn't want it to become a 
habit.  Takeo could talk about the test during supper, but it would only bring 
more distance between him and Hitori.  So he decided to just sign it and never 
touch the subject.

Yuki called out in the hallway.  "Onii-chan!  I'm not going to start room 
service, so get in here and eat!"

She waited to see the door open and Hitori walk out.  It never happened.

Takeo called his name out and waited a few seconds before getting up.  He walked 
down the narrow and short hallway to his bedroom.  He knocked on the door and 
waited for a response.  Takeo didn't get one.  He opened the door and walked in.

"Hitori, I..."

The room was empty, the only movement a curtain flowing in the wind coming from 
an opened window.  A note was on Hitori's futon.

	Dear Otou-chan,

	I can't go on living the way I have been for years.  I'm bleeding
	inside from wounds no one can heal.  So I'm ending it all.  Maybe then
	I'll no longer be a burden to the people I love.  I'm sorry, Otou-chan,
	but you don't understand.  No one understands.  I can't make you 
	understand cause I don't understand myself.  So I'm going to a place that
	will understand.

	Love,
	Hitori

~*~*~

With his father's keys, Mamoru and Yuki piled into his car and went on the mad 
search for their loved one.  Their first guess was naturally the beach house, 
but after countless minutes of running up and down stairs and looking in every 
room, no sign of Hitori was found.  They looked around the property, for broken 
windows, just in case he... but there was nothing.  So with the beach house out 
of the question, there was no where else obvious to look.  It was the only place 
Hitori would go that either of them could think of.  They knew him well enough 
to know he wouldn't have gone to the baseball field or to the school period - a 
suicide would make the papers no matter what, but it would bring large publicity 
if it were at a school.  There was no where else to look, and yet there had to 
be.  

Where was he?!

Mamoru punched the steering wheel directly in the center, causing the horn to 
announce his anger and frustration.  Hot and stinging tears were forming in his 
eyes and ready to fall by the multitudes.  Yuki was already crying, and her sobs 
were loud and broken.  Every minute they wasted was another minute closer to 
their loved one's death.  If they didn't find him soon, they would never be able 
to save him.

"Oh God no," Mamoru pleaded.  "I lost my sister to suicide.  I'm not going to 
lose my best friend to it too.  Please, show me.  God, tell me where he is..."


	ASK AND IT WILL BE GIVE TO YOU; SEEK AND YOU WILL FIND; KNOCK AND THE DOOR 
	WILL BE OPENED TO YOU.  FOR EVERYONE WHO ASKS RECEIVES; HE WHO SEEKS 
	FINDS; AND TO HIM WHO KNOCKS, THE DOOR WITH BE OPENED.


With speed quicker than the lightening that strikes the earth and more subtle 
than the weak and inaudible whisper in Mamoru's ear, the image of a very 
familiar place was painted before his eyes.  He saw the beautiful ocean he had 
grown up around, the same ocean Hitori found comfort in.  He saw the pier and 
the tall pole with the thick rope on it.  During the low tide in the summer 
Mamoru, Hitori, and Akio swung on that rope and splashed into the waters.  And 
just a few feet away from the pier was the place Hitori would sit and think.  Of 
course!  Where else would Hitori do?  All his life the only place Hitori felt 
peace was at the ocean...

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Yuki asked.  Her tears were gone but had 
left streaks.  Her eyes were eyes with amazement and discovery, and also fear.

"If you thinking the pier, you are," Mamoru said.  He put a lead foot down on 
the gas pedal and made a U-turn in the middle of the beach, sand flying 
everywhere.  The pier was on the other side of the beach.  They had to make it 
time before it was too late.

Mamoru's thoughts drifted to his sister.  It was happening again - history was 
repeating itself and in the exact same way.  His sister had been caught in a 
world of shades of gray, in the middle of black and white - wrong and right.  
Her friends kept nagging her to go out with them late at night and experiment 
with new wonders that would take all her worries away.  But inside she knew what 
was wrong and wanted nothing more than to stay at home with her parents, her 
sisters, and her brother.  She took the wrong road and soon was unable to turn 
back.  

Hadn't his sister joked about dying days before she committed suicide?  Everyone 
blindly thought she was only kidding, and then look what happened... Now that 
Mamoru looked back at the situation, was his sister really, truthfully joking?  
Had she actually been crying out to them for help?

The thing happened with him and Hitori earlier that day.  Hitori had reached his 
darkest days in the turmoil that had planted itself in his life.  He couldn't 
see the light at the end of the tunnel, the light of peace and salvation he had 
a chance to reach.  If only he could open up and tell his family and his friend 
what was wrong, how he felt, and how he wished the anger would leave him.  
Instead he took the road that lead to death.

I couldn't get to my sister in time, thought Mamoru, but I can reach Hitori in 
time...

They made it to the pier, as the sun was ready to slumber.  The old wooden 
structure had been through many storms and still stood, with only the front 
railing missing.  Standing at the edge of the pier was Hitori.  When he saw 
Mamoru and Yuki running to him and telling him not to do it, he did the exact 
opposite.  He jumped off the pier and was in the ocean before he knew it.

When Mamoru had climbed to the top of the pier there was only one thing he could 
do.

He jumped into the sea after him.

Yuki stood at the edge of the pier in disbelief.  "Mamoru-kun!" she screamed, 
but her wails would certainly not reach him.  She knelt down, sat on her knees 
and leaned over the pier, hoping to somehow spy them through the not-so crystal 
clear ocean.  And as she watched, she prayed.

The waves were picking up.  Even under the water, the waves were stronger than a 
man was.  It would be difficult to do a search with a force pushing him away 
from the only thing he wanted to find.

"Yuki!"

She turned around and found her father with two of the other fishermen that 
worked with him.  Apparently, they too had the same place in mind.

"Papa!  Mamoru-kun went after him!  Get your boat!"

The salty waters were freezing and stung Mamoru's eyes, but he forced them to 
remain open.  Even then he couldn't see much, but he searched all around 
desperately for his friend.  His body couldn't have gotten far after only 
seconds of plunging into the watery grave.  But the ocean was so vast.  How far 
could have Hitori gotten if the waves caught him?

Mamoru was losing air.  He went up to the surface for a large breath and 
continued.

During the second time of plunging into the ocean, Mamoru found Hitori.  He was 
falling deeper and deeper into the depths of the oblivion that waited for him if 
a hand of salvation didn't reach him in time.  Mamoru mustered all the strength 
he had and pushed himself onward.  His muscles were sore from the overexertion 
and the pounding of the waves.  Pain wasn't going to stop him from saving his 
friend.  He found enough strength to catch up with the falling body.

When he was close enough to Hitori, Mamoru grabbed his hand and soon wrapped his 
arm around him.  With his friend finally in his grasp, half of his fear went 
away.  The other half of his fear lingered on.  He found Hitori, but would it be 
too late?

As he swam to the surface again, Mamoru glanced at his friend and saw the sudden 
physical changes.  In the deep blue sea his skin was pale and blue-tinted, much 
different than the leathery dark olive tone.  Hitori's chest was next to 
Mamoru's as he was pulled to the surface.  There wasn't the rhythmic heaving a 
chest would do as a person breathed in and out.  Was he really dead?  Mamoru 
hoped to God up above that he wasn't.  But if he was, jumping off the pier had 
done the deed.  He began to wonder if in those few seconds of falling if he 
regretted it, but sufficed with the limited knowledge that there was no turning 
back.  

At least death would have surely been there if someone didn't care.

When they were at the surface, Mamoru gasped for air.  He saw Takeo and Yuki 
with the two fishermen on the small fishing boat.  It halted as Takeo threw a 
thick rope over the side of the boat.  Mamoru grabbed the rope with his free 
hand and allowed the three men on board the haul him and Hitori up to the deck.

When the two were on deck, they laid Hitori on his back and checked for a pulse.  
There was a faint, barely noticeable heartbeat.  Mamoru stood back and watched.  
Yuki found a blanket to wrap him up with, but she didn't hand it to him.  Mamoru 
didn't notice it.  Both of them were more worried about Hitori.  Takeo got down 
on the dock beside his youngest son and did the best of his ability to 
resuscitate him.

Hitori started coughing as water sputtered from his mouth.  Takeo helped him sit 
up.  He kept coughing up the water he had swallowed until it was no more, and 
even after.  It was one of the most beautiful sounds any of them had ever heard.

"Where am I?" he uttered.  He looked up and saw Mamoru, drenched with water 
dripping from his hair and clothes.  "Mamoru... you?"

"Don't ever say I never gave you anything."

~*~*~

The name Mamoru means, "protector" or "to protect."  I never thought it fit him.  
Mamoru has always been the underdog right along with me.  I can't say that 
anymore.  He's proved that it does.  

======
End of Chapter Two


No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us.  
For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, 
neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height or depth, nor 
anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God 
that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

	~ Romans 8:37-39


Author's Notes: (You knew they were coming!)

a) Here's a little history lesson for you.  On September 2, 1945, Japanese 
representatives signed the formal document of surrender on the U.S.S 
Missouri, which was anchored in Tokyo Bay.  Emperor Hirohito was the one who 
announced the end of the war to the people.  They [the citizens] flocked to 
train stations, the streets, anywhere where they could hear their emperor on the 
radio.  It was joyous and shameful time.  You see, during that time, Emperor 
Hirohito was said to be a direct descendent of the Sun Goddess.  Because of 
this, no one was allowed to look at him or hear him.  (And why yes, he did marry 
and have children.) The people were filled with joy to hear their emperor, yet 
ashamed because he had stooped to "their level."  Nowadays, this doesn't happen.  
For one thing, Hirohito is from what I know dead, and because he lost his 
popularity in the 60s and 70s.

b) During the time of World War II, nearly every village was bombed during air 
raids.  So you can see that Hitori wouldn't exactly be living in his 
neighborhood.  Call it poetic license. ^_^

c) Yuki means, "snow."  You probably guessed that.  ^^;

d) The Japanese actually do view Christianity in the way that I described in 
this chapter.  Sad, but true.  It's very rare to find a Christian in Japan, 
being 99% of the population is Shinto or another religion.  (And yet are beloved 
Naoko Takeuchi is a Christian.  That would explain Sailormoon Super, ne?)  The 
views of the Christian faith have toned down a bit as it has grown and has 
become tolerable to most of the citizens, but it could be better.  (Everything 
could be better.)  I have tried to point out that the Chiba family is in the 
minority, and I hope I have succeeded.  

e) "And though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, 
for You are with me.  Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me" is Psalm 23:4.

f) Doushite means, "why?"

g) "Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door 
will be opened to you.  For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and 
to him who knocks, the door will be opened" is Matthew 7:7,8

h) If have sent mail to me, and I have not replied, it is because I did not 
receive it.  I have been having trouble with my email for the past month.  So if 
you did not hear from me, and you would still like to email me, you can contact 
me at gracefulangel15@aol.com or maskedmaiden@writeme.com.  I'd advise you to 
send mail to my AOL account, but I will check both.  So it doesn't matter. :)