She could fly. Just like Ryoko, she could float through the air without mechanical assistance. It was hardly surprising, since she was Ryoko’s mother, but Washu made it a point not to use this ability in her daily life. She simply liked to walk. It feels good, and it’s healthy to boot. In fact, Washu had never shown the others that she could fly. If they had seen, their jaws would have dropped to the floor in surprise.
Well, that would be a sight to behold. Washu chuckled to herself, imagining their shocked faces. She wove her way between the trees. The place where she was going was quite a distance on foot. She could go there instantaneously if she used the door to the Masaki house, but she wanted to take her time today. She needed to prepare herself to read the letter.
After traveling several kilometers through the arboretum, a small building appeared before Washu. Its door opened automatically as if to welcome her in. Inside, the view changed completely. All the walls and surfaces besides the floor—or perhaps windows?—showed pitch-black darkness. The cosmos stretched out in all directions.
Anyone stepping into this room for the first time would scream, feeling disorientation akin to being tossed into outer space. Washu entered the building as if drifting through zero gravity. Before her, five planets spread out in a gentle arc. The building she had entered was a large orbital elevator, and her “lab” was a large artificial satellite floating in space. It consisted of those five different types of planets, centered on the research satellite she had just been in. They orbited an existing star system, not something fixed in hyperspace. The lab was connected to the door in the Masaki house using a massive amount of energy.
One of Washu’s planets had an astronomical observatory. It was not very large, and not properly equipped, but it was a replica of the one Washu lived in long ago. An hour after she left her lab, Washu was in this old, disorganized room, sitting in an antique rocking chair. She always came here when she wanted to reflect alone upon the twenty thousand years of her vast life.
In the room was a dresser, decorated with several framed pictures. Washu’s attention was fixed on a picture of a baby with an innocent smile and large green eyes—the same as Washu’s. The eyes seemed to stare into Washu’s soul.
“Good grief. What was the matter with me…?” Washu remembered having to say goodbye to Taro and writhed in embarrassment. This was not something she could afford to have anyone witness. But she had allowed Tenchi to see something similar.
The time isn’t yet right for that. It was still too early to force a decision on Tenchi. There was an order to things. Ryoko, Ayeka, Sasami, Mihoshi…heh…and Ryo-Ohki, maybe… Or are there more? Swaying in the rocking chair, Washu removed the stationery paper from the envelope.
“Dear Hakubi Washu-sama,” the note began. It continued with words of thanks and gratitude, describing how Taro was doing. It was polite but minimal, limited to the essential points. It was so generic that, at a glance, it seemed to be a courtesy letter, implying that Taro’s mother was not even that grateful to have her child looked after. In actual fact, Washu was aware that this letter held an important meaning. Its familiar format was also used for reports at the Galaxy Academy.
“Hmm… I see. She’s Tenchi-dono’s family, after all. I got careless. It should’ve been obvious… Hm?”
The postscript stated, “Please, keep this secret from Tenchi-chan.”
“Secret from Tenchi-dono…?” Washu murmured with a full heart. She glanced at the enclosed picture of Taro and his happy parents, and raised it to compare to the picture on the dresser. The distance between the two pictures was fate, and time. “I’m happy for you, Taro.”
Right as Washu was about to put the letter away, Sasami’s voice rang in the room out of nowhere.
“Washu-oneechan? It’s time to eat.”
“All right, I’ll be right there.”
Washu’s lab was expansive. She usually worked on her research through simulations in the living room on the space station, but she periodically made her rounds to other places. Nobody would ever be able to find her at those times. That was why she had placed an intercom on the Masaki house door that connected directly to her. She did this partly because an unwitting trespasser would run into several dangerous pitfalls; the biggest reason, however, was as a countermeasure against Mihoshi. Washu had reason enough to be cautious.
By the time Washu arrived in the Masaki house’s living room, everyone but Mihoshi was seated.
“You’re late, Washu-oneechan.”
“Sorry about that. I had some stuff to take care of,” Washu apologized to Sasami, taking her seat. At the same moment, Mihoshi appeared in the door Washu had just emerged from.
“Oh, Washu-san. Where have you been?” Mihoshi took her seat. Sasami looked at her skeptically.
Sasami never picked Mihoshi to fetch Washu from her lab. Since she was the Genius of Chance, Mihoshi’s coincidences always ended up fortuitous in the end. The problem was the process. When Washu was involved, for some reason, the coincidences often took the shape of chaos and destruction. No matter how favorable the results, getting that chaos under control after the fact was too much trouble to ever be worth it.
Of course, Mihoshi was careful in her way, so not everything she touched was exposed to the ferocity of her coincidences. But there were moments, after which something always broke or got out of hand because of Mihoshi.
This would not be a problem if the incidents were confined to the Masaki house. Ayeka pointlessly falling into the pond, for example, or something falling on Ryoko’s head, or the carrots Tenchi harvested rolling down the hill for a mile, or someone stepping on Ryo-Ohki’s tail, or a dish breaking, or a faucet breaking, or even a shuttle crashing to Earth and flooding the house… There were many options, but they were limited to the formulaic jokes commonly seen on sitcoms.
If something happened in Washu’s lab, however, it wouldn’t be easy to shrug off. Having Mihoshi summon Washu was like making a campfire to roast potatoes in an explosives factory, and Sasami would never do that.
Unfortunately, Mihoshi was not the type of person who sat there and did nothing until she was asked. She had helpfully gone to call Washu on her own.
Noticing Sasami’s concern, Washu smiled gently to reassure her. Sasami, relieved, started to serve the rice. “Mihoshi-dono…where were you looking?” Washu asked, knowing it was too late.
“Well…first…”
“Keep it short,” Washu remembered to add.
“Okay. Well…there were dark places and bright places, hot places…and cold places. Oh, thanks, Sasami.” Mihoshi paused to accept the bowl of rice Sasami passed her.
Washu thanked Sasami internally for the quick thinking. Mihoshi’s answer was always the same, and there was no point in asking. Washu had just set up the new anti-Mihoshi security system, and she decided to chalk this up to a test run. She would eventually find out what Mihoshi had done, and with more updates, a perfect anti-Mihoshi security system would be complete. A system that could handle the genius of coincidence—that singular perfection. It’ll be a bestseller for sure. Many people would want one. But the first in line, cash in hand, would be the Galaxy Police.
After lunch, everyone was free to nap. Washu retreated to her lab, changed, and came out dressed to collect plant specimens. First, however, she headed towards Sasami, who was cleaning up in the kitchen.
“Sasami-chan…this was in that letter.” Washu had noticed that Sasami was curious about the letter, and now gave her the picture of Taro with his parents. “Everyone’s doing well. Taro’s mother has gotten better and can return home.”
“Really? That’s great,” Sasami smiled.
“Show that picture to the others. I have to go out.”
“But it looks like it’s going to rain.” Sasami looked towards the window. Heavy clouds had rolled in.
“It’s supposed to be sunny today! Well, I’ll be fine.” Washu waved, and headed out of the kitchen, towards the front door.
“Off to collect specimens?” Tenchi came down the stairs.
“Yeah…a few.” Washu answered, feigning serenity. Internally, she remembered the letter and the picture, saying goodbye to Taro, and the words she had almost said to Tenchi. She tried desperately not to blush.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” Washu opened the door to escape. A breeze, rather chilly for spring, swept in.
“It’s like winter has come back, Washu…san.” Ever since he saw Washu’s tears when they said goodbye to Taro, Tenchi sometimes addressed Washu using the “-san” honorific, rather than “-chan.” Washu did not comment. To her, Tenchi was not the past, but the future itself. “Will you be okay, dressed like that?”
“It’s fine. Besides, I’ll be right back.” To an outside observer, Tenchi seemed to be an older brother concerned about his little sister. But Washu’s tone was full of affection, more like a mother with a son anxious about house-sitting. Tenchi noticed that tone, blushed, and looked away. “See you later, Tenchi-dono,” she said gently and walked off towards the mountains.
Tenchi watched her for a while, shivered at the incoming chill, and looked up at the sky. Cold white flakes came fluttering down and melted into drops of water against his warm cheek. “It’s snow.” He gazed at the increasing flurries for a while. Suddenly growing concerned, he looked in the direction Washu had walked off. “Washu-san, it’s snowing…” But, as if she had melted into the snow, Washu was gone.
“It’s coming down hard, isn’t it?”
“It doesn’t usually stick like this.” Ayeka and Tenchi watched the show fall, murmuring. In south Okayama, where they lived, it occasionally snowed but rarely accumulated. Snowfall would melt the next day at the latest.
“Is Washu-oneechan going to be okay…?” asked Sasami, folding the laundry she had brought inside.
“That cold-blooded witch will be fine. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was the one making it snow in the first place,” spat Ryoko, tears swimming in her eyes. She had just finished volume nineteen of Checking In ☆ On You, which was a turbulent mess of climaxing storylines.
“That would make her the Snow Queen,” said Tenchi, appalled.
“That’s Ryoko-san’s mother, after all,” Ayeka casually teased, triggering an immediate glare in reaction from Ryoko.
To avoid getting involved, Sasami and Tenchi headed for the sofa area with tea and snacks. Mihoshi was already there. She took a rice cracker from Tenchi’s box of snacks. Stuffing her mouth, she asked, “Henhihan, whaff a Fwow Kween?”
“Please ask again after you’ve swallowed.”
Gulp! “Tenchi-san, what’s a Snow Queen?”
“Oh…she’s a character in folk tales. A winter apparition who lives on snowy mountains. She can manipulate snow and ice.” Tenchi told Mihoshi the gist of the tale, but, since he was not well-versed in the story, made things up here and there. Sasami and Mihoshi sat and listened, riveted. Fairy tales from Earth were new to them.