Prologue
One week had passed since the Emperor of Jurai came to the Masaki household for a visit.
Technically, since he never stayed for long, it had been a week since he made his first appearance. For each visit to the Masaki home, he would show up with a candidate for marriage for his daughter Ayeka, the first Imperial Princess. However, each time he came, some outrageous series of events would send him, his marriage candidate, and the rest of his entourage away. Since this had happened seven times now, he was simply showing up every day. Each time, Ayeka would entreat, “But Father, I have Tenchi-sama…” And each time, he would repeat his line, “Unless this Tenchi can best my chosen man in a duel, I cannot allow it.” So the routine went, and this was now Masaki Tenchi’s eighth duel.
For the eighth time, their audience consisted of eight people plus one animal. There was Azusa, Emperor of Jurai; Funaho, first Empress of Jurai; Misaki, second Empress of Jurai; Masaki Katsuhito (also known as Yosho), first Prince of Jurai and grandfather of Tenchi; Ryoko, former space pirate; Washu-chan, scientific genius; and the “animal” Ryo-Ohki, living spaceship (currently in toddler mode).
The attention of all in this fine and fancy group—each of whom could probably destroy the solar system several times over in an instant—was held by two people. First: the ordinary high school student and people-pleaser (currently on leave from school) Masaki Tenchi, who, quite frankly, was sick of this farce but went along with it without complaint, and second: the rich, handsome, and completely expendable, marriage candidate.
Ayeka fretted over Tenchi, but the thought Tenchi-sama is fighting for my sake! kept her giddy.
On the other end of the spectrum was Ryoko, who also fretted over Tenchi, but her dark side, honest to her true feelings, took over her thoughts. Concede! Concede! Just lose before you get hurt! Lose, and send Ayeka back to Jurai. Sasami, too. Washu can just get lost. And Mihoshi, too. However, she sensed Misaki’s gaze next to her and reluctantly cheered for Tenchi. This being the eighth repetition of these events, Ryoko knew that any such words that upset Misaki would result in a flood of tears, followed by a tirade of abuse, including pinching cheeks, tackles, getting tossed into the air, and then having the bill for damages incurred by her attack on Planet Jurai 700 years earlier thrust into her face. Even knowing all this, she would still succumb to those darker impulses in a few seconds and shout them at the top of her lungs. Why didn’t she learn from the past? Well, that’s just who Ryoko was.
Varied reactions came from the others. Azusa remained surly. Funaho and Katsuhito looked on, unruffled. Sasami, with Ryo-Ohki’s help, fully confident in Tenchi’s victory, handed out umbrellas to everyone while she pondered what to make for dinner that night. Washu-chan was the only one looking up into the sky, mumbling, “It should be any time now.”
And so, for the eighth time in a row, the eighth duel was over in an instant. Yet again, a space shuttle came crashing down from the sky—this being despite the Emperor holding the duel at different times of day ever since the second time it happened. The impact blasted Tenchi and the expendable marriage candidate into the pond in front of the Masaki residence. Tenchi swam back to shore wondering how this could keep happening, but the poor expendable marriage candidate floated unconscious, fulfilling his destiny as an expendable character.
The spectators, shielded from the spray of water by their umbrellas, bore witness to Tenchi’s victory.
And then before the spectators’ eyes, soaking wet and looking like some sort of Amazonian half-fish or kappa water goblin, staggered a single humanoid form. There she stood: as always, the genius of dumb luck, the girl to whom a goddess would doff her hat, the girl who would crawl out of the depths of Pandora’s Box: Galaxy Police detective first-class Kuramitsu Mihoshi. With a pitiful expression on her face, and dizzy eyes, she said, “I’m sooo sorry, but it seems I did it again. Washu-san, could you fix it, please?” And for the eighth time, she fainted dead away.
Azusa beheld this turn of events with a look of repugnance; with this eighth consecutive loss of a bet against Tenchi, he had exhausted his monthly stipend. Even the Emperor of Jurai could not write off personal gambling debts as “entertainment expenses.”
Once the dueling event concluded, the partying began. While indignant at the weak showing of the expendable marriage candidate, Azusa couldn’t say no to an invitation from Sasami, the apple of his eye. Tenchi, of course, had no say in the matter, and the rest of the group unanimously agreed to the banquet.
Sure enough, the partying lasted through the night. Ryoko’s drunken advances on Tenchi earned a rebuke from Ayeka, leading to a two-liter sake bottle thrown in the heat of the moment striking Azusa in the head. Tenchi, the only one still sober and in full possession of his senses, apologized profusely while, off to the side, Katsuhito sheepishly nodded along as he listened to Funaho’s grievances.
But above all, the most peculiar spectacle was the conversation between Misaki and Mihoshi. Since the start of the banquet, they had sat opposite each other, humbly bowing and formally introducing themselves. (Naturally, they were drunk.)
“My name is Misaki, Sasami-chan and Ayeka-chan’s mom,” said Misaki.
“Oh, my, my, it’s—” Mihoshi began.
“Oh, no, no. You’re too kind,” Misaki interjected.
“…so nice to meet you,” Mihoshi continued.
“Oh, my, my. It’s my pleasure,” Misaki replied.
“I’m special investigator first-class—” said Mihoshi.
“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you!” Misaki cut in.
“…Mihoshi of the Galaxy Police,” Mihoshi finished.
“Oh, my, my. You’re too kind,” said Misaki.
“Oh, my, my…” replied Mihoshi.
“Oh, my, my. You’re too kind,” Misaki interrupted.
“…you’re too kind,” Mihoshi said.
Left to themselves, they would continue to converse in this manner all night. The fast-talking Misaki and the slow-talking Mihoshi, the content of their conversation never meshing in any way, and yet somehow able to understand each other perfectly. How…? Washu wondered, every time. She dwelled very seriously on the matter, contemplating both human development and evolution.
Azusa’s cries for them to cease went unheard. As Azusa grew enraged, Ryo-Ohki tugged at his sleeve and then performed “I’m a Little Teapot,” complete with sweeping hand gestures. Suddenly, all eyes focused on her. When she finished with a bow, everyone applauded, and Azusa returned to his seat in resignation. He was well aware of how angry Sasami would be if he ever made Ryo-Ohki cry.
And the ruckus began anew. The Masaki household was full of jeers, laughter, yelling, sarcasm, and pleasant greetings, for eight days in succession.
When the sun began to rise, Azusa and the others finally declared that it was time to go. After eight times, there was nothing emotional to parting, and it now felt as familiar as waving goodbye to your father as he left for the office. Azusa left without a word, with Funaho giving a slight bow at his side. At this point, words were unnecessary. There was, however, one person who still experienced all the emotions of parting. It was Misaki.
“Farewell, Sasami-chan, Ayeka-chan, Tenchi-chan, Ryoko-chan, Ryo-Ohki-chan, Washu-chan, Mihoshi-chan.”
“Oh, my, my—” started Mihoshi.
“Oh, no, no. You’re too kind,” Misaki interjected.
“…that’s very kind of you,” Mihoshi continued.
“Oh, my, my. You’re too kind,” said Misaki.
“Oh, no, no…” Mihoshi started.
“Oh, my, my. That’s very kind of you,” said Misaki.
“…you’re too kind,” Mihoshi finished.
As this would go on endlessly if left alone, everyone pulled them apart, and at last, the ship departed with Azusa and his entourage aboard.
“Farewell! Farewell!”
While Misaki watched, Tenchi and the others waved until the moment the ship disappeared between the clouds, whereupon they collapsed in a heap like a bunch of invertebrates. Eight consecutive days of this lifestyle had taken its toll.
“Wh-what is with your parents…?”
“And your mother…” That was all Ryoko and Ayeka could manage for sarcasm.
“Good grief,” sighed Ryoko and Ayeka. When it came to being at the mercy of their incomprehensible parents, on this one point, they were in agreement.
Washu-chan, amazingly, had fallen asleep standing up without anyone having noticed.
The morning sun, now fully risen, shone down upon Tenchi and the others as they lay sprawled about the courtyard. Looking up at the sky through half-lidded eyes, Tenchi thought about his great-grandmother, Funaho. She married the Emperor of Jurai and gave birth to Grandpa, 750 years ago. Grandpa came to Earth 700 years ago, married Grandma, who gave birth to Mom, and then Dad married into the family.
And then I was born. The blood of Jurai flowed through me. Up till last year, I believed he was just an ordinary guy. But, like it or not, that power made itself known to those of Juraian blood: the Light Hawk Wings. Those three shining wings, Washu-chan told me, stem from a mysterious power I produce on my own, without the aid of a Royal Tree.
Be that as it may, I’ve still only managed to use it twice, can’t bring them forth consciously, and it’s of no use to me in my daily life…
“What are you thinking about, Tenchi-niichan?”
He tilted his head to one side and there was Sasami, standing quietly. Ryo-Ohki, now back in animal form, was perched on her shoulder.
“Just thinking about your family, Sasami-chan.”
“I’m sorry. They’re a pain, huh?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just… I mean, your father is my great-grandfather.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Right? When I think about it, it just feels so amazing.” Tenchi smiled at Sasami and looked back up at the sky.
It’s amazing, he thought. So many people surround me. Not even a year has passed, so why does it feel like they’ve always been living here? Why is it so much fun?
Ryo-Ohki softly meowed from Sasami’s shoulder. Tenchi took the cue, “Oh yeah, I better go out to the field.”
She meowed again.
Getting up, dragging his heavy legs, Tenchi headed for the shed. Perhaps, in some ways, he had the most endurance of them all.
“I’ll bring you lunch later.”
“Thanks, Sasami-chan, but you should get some sleep. They might come back, right?”
She laughed. “I guess so,” she said, and trailed off into a yawn.
“See? Sasami-chan, take care of the others.”
“Right.”
“Well, shall we go, Ryo-Ohki?” Tenchi asked the cabbit.
“Meow!” came the response.
Giving a gentle wave to Sasami, Tenchi and Ryo-Ohki headed for the carrot field. The glorious spring sunshine enveloped the Masaki household and his family.