El-Hazard is the property of Katsuhiko Jinnai...
Hold on, that's not right. El-Hazard is really the property of Pioneer/AIC. And
they're very protective of it, so no stealing. Ever seen the Powerpuff Girls? You
know that Fuzzy Lumkins? They're worse than that.
However, this fic and all original characters herein (love that word) are property of
dookychan. Ever seen the Powerpuff Girls? You know that HIM? He's worse than
that.

If you have Fence of Defense's Thirteenth Month Revolution (the Alternative World
Theme), put it on now. That will serve as the theme tune to this series.
And, if you really must, use Back In Love as the end theme. Or Boys Be Free.
Whatever rocks your world...

This is the first part proper of my El-Hazard continuation. So, what have they all
been up to over the last four years?

EL-HAZARD: THE SHAPE OF THINGS TO COME

THE FIRST MONTH: "BACK IN LOVE"

Remarkable.
Yes, that would be what the doctor would say when they emerged from the rift to
greet him. In his quest to understand the underlying principles of dimensional
transfer, that long-neglected, almost completely forgotten science developed by the
ancients of El-Hazard, Makoto had worked closely with Doctor Schtalubaugh for
four long years, and had come to recognise the old man's habits. The man was an
expert in many fields, but if there was one thing he could truly be said to excel at, it
was understatement. He could always be relied on to provide an insufficient
adjective no matter what the situation.

Throughout the trip, Ifurita said nothing. She simply clung feebly to Makoto, her
face buried in his chest, trying to shield her eyes from the brilliant light that
surrounded them. Once the most feared warrior of all time, with seemingly infinite
power at her disposal, she now had barely enough strength to stand up straight. Her
power levels were practically zero, and yet somehow she was still alive. This wasn't
remarkable; it was nothing short of a miracle.

Makoto had reached her just in time. He'd been fortunate, he knew that. Naturally,
he'd put everything he had into rescuing Ifurita, but luck had played a significant
part. It wasn't simply a matter of opening a dimensional rift. With the technology at
this disposal, that wasn't a problem. The difficulty was opening one to a precise
time, place and dimension. That was what had eluded him. It was a chance discovery
that the Eye of God maintained highly detailed records of the portals it had
previously opened, and with some manipulation could be persuaded to re-create
them. So Makoto had found a way back to Earth, albeit the Earth of ten thousand
years ago. In order to retrieve Ifurita without disrupting the delicate paradox that had
sent him to El-Hazard in the first place, it was necessary to somehow turn the clock
forward by ten thousand years. It sounded easy, although completing the required
calculations for the alteration of this single parameter had taken over a year.

At that point, the prospect of returning to Earth was no longer an ambition, it was
close to being inevitable. Makoto had begun worrying. Three problems constantly
nagged at him. The first- should he return to Earth permanently? To begin with, he
had longed for his old life. But years passed, and as they did, the prospect of going
home seemed ever more ridiculous. How could he possibly return to Shinonome and
carry on as if nothing had happened? However much he wanted his old life back, it
wasn't possible. Things had changed.

His second problem- what would the people of El-Hazard make of Ifurita? While
people knew that she was the one who deactivated the Eye of God, she was also one
of the most feared weapons in El-Hazard's history. During her brief period under
Jinnai's control, she had destroyed three towns and part of the palace. People
weren't going too forget that. Fortunately, the Roshtarian royal family had publicly
voiced their support for Ifurita, and in recent weeks Princess Fatora's army of PR
managers and publicists had sprung into action, reminding the public of Ifurita's
noble sacrifice, transforming her into some kind of folk hero. How successful this
would be remained to be seen, but if anybody could change public perception of
Ifurita, it was the people who had made Fatora Roshtaria's all time favourite
princess, despite her unquestionable talent for upsetting nearly everyone she met.

The third problem- the one that kept him awake night after night- what if, despite all
his efforts, there was nothing he could do to save Ifurita? What if the act of sending
him to El-Hazard had killed her? It was a possibility too terrible to contemplate, and
yet, Makoto simply had to contemplate it. That was the way his mind worked. He
was a scientist, so he considered all possibilities. Including the worst case scenario.
And no amount of reassurance could change the fact that he would have to wait until
he returned to Earth to find out Ifurita's fate.

But suddenly, it no longer mattered. Ifurita WAS safe. Such a weight had been lifted
from his shoulders that he was grinning broadly without even realising it.
Shapes began to appear. What had been uniform light became colours. The world
around them came into focus. Blurred noise became voices. They were back in
Makoto's specially constructed test lab.
Doctor Schtalubaugh signalled to the two research assistants to terminate the
connection with the Eye of God. The light faded, and the two figures were fully
visible at last. The doctor stared at them- a smiling Makoto, and the weakened
Ifurita draped over him. Only one word seemed appropriate.
"Remarkable."

Day 1

Ifurita's exertion had left her very disorientated. She now sat on the edge of the bed
in Makoto's little house, trying to gather her thoughts.
Upon her return, Makoto had re-wound her as soon as possible. Curiously, he had
seemed a little embarrassed about performing this simple act. She smiled to herself.
That was Makoto all over. He hadn't changed.
The energy was confusing her. She had been running on reduced power for so long,
that she had quite forgotten the strange, rushing sensation in her head that this much
energy could produce.
Makoto hurried back into the room and sat gingerly next to her.
"Are you... feeling better now?"
"I must wait for the power to become evenly distributed throughout my body," she
said weakly. "Makoto..."
"Yes, Ifurita?"
"How long has it been?"
"Almost four years."
"Are they all still here?" she asked. "Nanami? Mr Fujisawa?"
Makoto nodded. It was a difficult concept to grasp, but Ifurita had effectively lived
his life, having witnessed its every detail through his memories. She knew Nanami
and Mr Fujisawa almost as well as he did, despite meeting them only briefly in
reality.
"They're here. But a lot's changed since you last saw them. Mr Fujisawa's married.
He has a daughter. And Nanami, well, she's become quite the entrepreneur."
Ifurita took hold of Makoto's arm, and rested her head on his shoulder. "Oh,
Makoto... I want to know everything. Everything that's happened..."
"Um, well," Makoto wondered where he should begin. "The priestesses are due to
visit from Mount Muldoon in a few days. And of course, there's the royal wedding.
We..."
Ifurita had fallen asleep on Makoto's shoulder. Despite her enthusiasm, she was still
thoroughly exhausted.
Makoto smiled and lay her gently on the bed. For now, she could sleep. They had all
the time in the world.

The first thing Sakura noticed was that she wasn't dead. Good start.
The second thing she noticed was the fact that she was in immense pain. A terrible,
stabbing sensation in her lower back. It felt as if her vertebrae were being prised
apart. But the pain wasn't limited to her back. It was all over her body, in a greater
or lesser capacity. Her neck, her arms and legs, her chest, her fingers... it was the
greatest pain she had ever experienced in her life.
She didn't deserve this, God damn it! She was a celebrity. She knew people. She had
seven cars.
She wanted to cry out. But she couldn't. She was totally immobile. She couldn't see
or hear. Her natural reaction would be to panic. But she couldn't even do that.
Somehow, she was compelled... to sleep.

Blossoms were falling.
Nobody saw the blossoms. This was just about the deepest part of the Greater
Roshtarian Forest. The nearest town was miles away, and few ever ventured this far
away from civilisation. So the blossoms continued their business of falling
undisturbed. Falling on the grass. On the lake. And unusually, on a girl sprawled out
on the ground.
Face down, unconscious and dressed entirely in black. She looked strangely at odds
with the rest of the scene. As if by way of compensation for her incongruity, one by
one the blossoms did their best to cover her up.

Day 3

"How beautiful!" Qawoor exclaimed.
"I'm not sure about beautiful," Shayla observed, but it sure is different. Somebody
obviously likes purple."
"Quite impressive," Afura agreed.
The three priestesses walked slowly through the main royal garden, which had been
entirely replanted in preparation for the royal wedding. The garden was now
resplendent with flowers of every shade of purple imaginable. The Roshtarian royal
family's first wedding in twenty-eight years was clearly going to be an extravagant
affair.
"You girls are late!" a familiar voice called. Qawoor smiled. Shayla and Afura
shuddered.
"Miss Miz!" Qawoor called back, waving enthusiastically.
Miz marched over to the three women, her daughter and husband in tow.
"I see you haven't got any more punctual," she said dismissively. "When I was a
Muldoon priestess, I was never..."
"Aw, come on, Miz, what's an hour our so?" Fujisawa interjected. "Leave the poor
girls alone, will ya?"
Qawoor did her best to change the subject. "Miss Miz, I'm certain little Mika has
grown since our last visit."
Miz cheered up a lot upon hearing this. If there was one thing she enjoyed, it was
showing off her daughter. "You're absolutely right," she beamed. "And not only
that, she's highly intelligent for her age. Mika, aren't you going to say hello to the
priestesses?"
The child smiled timidly and clung to her father's leg.
"What a lovely little girl," the young priestess commented. "I hope one day I'll have
a daughter just like her!"
"Oh, please," Shayla sighed. "So, have you seen her yet?
"Her? Who do you mean?" Miz asked, perturbed.
"You know. Her. The Demon God."
Fujisawa shook his head. "No. No one has, except for Makoto and the doctor. I think
she's resting."
"Hmph." Shayla folded her arms and turned away. The others looked around
nervously.
"Come on, Shayla," Fujisawa offered. "How about a drink?"
"Yeah, why not?" she mumbled in response.
Qawoor leaned in to Miz. "Miss Miz, may I speak with you in private?"
"Of course," she nodded. "Masamichi, will you..."
She noticed that he and Shayla were already halfway across the garden, quickly
making for Nanami's restaurant.
"Well then," Miz frowned, picking her daughter up, "I suppose Mika will have to
join us. Will you excuse us, Afura?"

"I have to admit I was a little worried, Ifurita. You were asleep for two solid days..."
Makoto trailed off, deciding that such an observation probably sounded ridiculous to
Ifurita. Two days was nothing compared to the ten thousand years she had spent
waiting for him.
"Makoto, I did not mean to cause you concern."
"I know that. I'm sorry."
The pair stepped out into the midday sun. At last Ifurita was strong enough to go
outside.
"Well Ifurita, where do you want to go first?" Makoto asked.
"Nanami," she answered, smiling. "I want to see Nanami."
Makoto took her arm and led her along the path.

Qawoor, Miz and Mika sat on a bench, under a recently planted tree bearing purple
blossoms.
"I do like what they've done with these gardens," Miz said. "I've always liked
purple."
Qawoor nodded in agreement.
"But... you didn't ask me here to talk about gardening, did you? Tell me, Qawoor,
what's troubling you? Is it Shayla-Shayla?"
Qawoor looked up, puzzled. "Shayla?"
"I saw how she was acting back there," Miz continued. "That girl... and to think
she's the senior chief priestess..."
"Shayla's just upset about Ifurita coming back." Qawoor justified. "Poor Shayla.
She still likes Master Makoto, even if she won't admit it. When I first met him, I...
liked him too. But then I found out about Ifurita, and, well... I thought it would be
unfair on him if I..."
She sighed. "Shayla must feel awful. But maybe this way, she'll be able to get over
him at last."
"Well," Miz pondered, "if it isn't Shayla that's troubling you, then what is?"
"I'm worried about sister Afura," Qawoor said. "She's been very quiet."
"Yes, but Afura was always quiet," Miz reasoned.
Qawoor shook her head purposefully. "Not like this. She's totally immersed herself
in her studies. She hardly says a word to us. And... the other day I asked her what
she was reading, and she told me to keep out of it. I really think something's
bothering her, Miss Miz."
"You're right," Miz replied, a little concern showing in her eyes. "Afura always took
studies seriously, but she was never unsociable."
"Would you talk to her, Miss Miz? I know she looks up to you. If she'll tell anyone
what's wrong, then it's you."
"I'll see what I can do," Miz answered purposefully.

"The people... they're all looking at me," Ifurita whispered.
Makoto could only nod in acknowledgement. As they crossed the main square, they
were the centre of attention. There didn't seem to be a single pair of eyes that wasn't
looking in their direction.
"I know, it's to be expected," Ifurita sighed.
"They're not used to seeing you," Makoto whispered back. "They're just a little
curious. Before long, the novelty'll wear off, I'm sure."
He hoped he was right. Being watched by so many people was certainly unnerving.
Ifurita suddenly let out a gasp of astonishment.
"What is it, Ifurita?"
"One of the Phantom Tribe people! I can see one of them... over next to that
building!"
Makoto's heart skipped for a moment until he realised that Ifurita had just seen an
Opaque.
"It's okay," he reassured. "I guess I haven't done a good job of updating you on
what's been happening in El-Hazard. That man isn't one of the Phantom Tribe- at
least, not really. They're known as the Opaques. The Phantom Tribe treated them as
underclass, since they don't have the power to cast illusions. So a few years ago,
they banded together and left the Phantom Tribe."
"I see," Ifurita said. "And they have become integrated into Roshtarian society?"
Makoto looked a little awkward. "Well, I wouldn't say integrated, exactly. Roshtaria
was one of the few countries to accept them, but even here, a lot of people don't like
them. It's a shame, but... I guess you have to give people time to adjust."
Makoto hoped that Ifurita wasn't thinking what he was thinking. He situation with
the Opaques was an indication of just how bigoted the Roshtarian people could be. It
made him wonder just how readily, if at all, they would accept Ifurita.

Shayla downed a glass of fortified wine and turned to her drinking buddy.
"You have no idea what it's like," she slurred. "Stuck in that temple with only Afura
and Qawoor and Parnasse for company."
"Come on, Shayla," Fujisawa replied. "I'm sure they're not that bad."
"Ha!" Shayla laughed mockingly. "It's hell, believe me! Afura's just been downright
weird recently. Qawoor's just... Qawoor. And every night I have to check my bed
before I get in it in case Parnasse is there waiting for me."
An Opaque couple entered the restaurant and sat near the window. Two men
immediately stood up and made for the door in response. Fujisawa tutted in
disapproval.
"Hey!" Nanami ran angrily over to the men. "Don't even THINK about leaving
when I have your meals almost ready. I don't put effort into preparing food just so
people like you can get up and leave whenever they feel like it! Now sit down there
and ENJOY YOURSELVES!"
The men meekly complied with Nanami's request.
Nanami marched back past Shayla and Fujisawa's table. "People like that ought to
be ashamed of themselves," she said.
"Wow," Shayla commented. "I know that was a matter of principle, but I'm
surprised she has any customers at all with an attitude like that."
"Don't knock it," Fujisawa replied, instinctively defending his old student.
"Whatever it is, it works. You're looking at the woman who introduced franchising
to El-Hazard."
"What the hell is that franchising thing about, anyway?" Shayla continued. "Why
would I want to go to another town just to visit the same restaurant? If you ask
me..."
Fujisawa blinked. Shayla appeared to have frozen, staring at the restaurant's
doorway. He looked over his shoulder. Aha. That was why.
Makoto and Ifurita had just entered the building.
Nanami noticed and ran over. "Makoto! Ifurita?"
"Nanami!" Ifurita grabbed Nanami and hugged her, much to her surprise.
"Uh, hi," Nanami acknowledged, confused. "Why don't you sit down? Um, Ifurita,
you can eat, right?"
"I can ingest solid and liquid nutrients if necessary..."
"Good enough for me. Come on."
Makoto gulped as he saw Shayla looking in horror at Ifurita. He tried to distract
Ifurita but it was too late.
"Mr Fujisawa! Priestess Shayla!"
He followed her to the table in desperation. "Maybe we shouldn't sit here, Ifurita..."
"Why not?"
"Well, because..." Makoto's eyes flitted helplessly between Ifurita and Shayla.
Ifurita had already sat down. This could be unpleasant.
"I'm so excited to see you all again," Ifurita smiled. "Mr Fujisawa, is it true you're
married?"
"Well, yeah, it happened not too long after you left us." He leaned over to the still
livid Shayla, and whispered- "Come on, Shayla. Please, try and keep it together."
"And your daughter?" Ifurita continued, oblivious. "I hear that she's... oh..."
Ifurita suddenly shuddered and began to fall backwards. Makoto immediately caught
her and propped her up.
"Ifurita? What's wrong?" he asked urgently.
"N... nothing," she attempted to reassure. "I'll be fine. Just give me a moment..."
"It's okay," Makoto said, putting his arm around her.
Shayla could take no more. "Unbelievable! She's only been back three days and
already you're feeling her up!"
"That's ridiculous!" Makoto countered. "I'm supporting her! She's weak!"
"WEAK? Ifurita? Tell me, Ifurita, were you weak when you started blowing up the
palace? Were you weak when you were killing innocent civilians?"
"Shayla!" Makoto objected. "Please stop!"
"How could you choose her? HOW?" Shayla fumed.
"Now just a second, Shayla," Nanami protested. "I can see you're upset, but this
isn't..."
"Save it!" Shayla stood up and stormed out.
Ifurita was distraught. "What... have I done?"

When the Eye of God blinks, the path to the sky will open up, and the Shadow
Nation becomes one.
And so it had happened.
The Eye of God had blinked when it was used against the Bugrom. Shortly
afterwards, the path to the sky had opened up, sending Ifurita to a distant dimension.
And the Shadow Nation? The Phantom Tribe were one, for a while. Until Galus'
sabotage of the Eye of God failed to bring them the revenge they sought.
So ended the Holy Apocalypse.
And life continued just as it had been. And the people were generally pleased about
this, having always assumed that the coming of the Holy Apocalypse would bring
with it the end of the world.
Evidently, it hadn't, but nobody was complaining.
But four years on, all was not well. Nobody could put their finger on exactly what
was wrong, but it was as if the public's sense of certainty had been eroded. A
collective paranoia was spreading throughout the people.
It all went back to that one moment. When the Eye of God blinked, everything
changed. The Bugrom were gone. Gone! But when your greatest fear is vanquished,
do you cease to fear? Of course not. You simply find something else to fear instead.
Then there were the newcomers. Only three of them. They could adjust to that. But
soon, even more newcomers were on their way...
Galus was dead. The Phantom Tribe fell into chaos. And soon after, the Opaques
saw their opportunity and escaped.
They had tried to survive on their own, but they had neither the resources nor the
numbers to sustain themselves. So they turned to the Allied Nations for help, and
were largely ignored.
Only Roshtaria, Styrenia, and a few of the smaller, richer countries heard their cries
for help.
Oh, there were advantages to having the Opaques around. They had brought with
them many technological innovations which were previously exclusive to the
Phantom Tribe. And they were an advanced people. Already, some of the best
doctors and engineers were Opaques.
But this created as much resentment as it pacified. What right did these outsiders
have to march in here and take all our best jobs?

In the fullness of time, such bickering would seem so... pointless.
Her train of thought was interrupted by a voice from behind.
"Afura? Are you alright?"
Afura looked over her shoulder at Miz. She hadn't heard her coming.
"Fine. I was just... thinking."
"You were miles away," Miz corrected. She stood beside Afura on the balcony
overlooking the busy street. "Now, are you going to tell me what's been playing on
your mind? Or do you want to worry us all sick for a little longer?"
Afura looked up, and glanced at Miz's concerned expression. In Afura's eyes, a hint
of... fear? Now that was unusual.
"It's not me you should be worried about," Afura said finally.
"Well, what do you suggest we worry about instead?"
Afura made a frustrated gesture to the general area around her. "Everything!" she
sighed. "People have no direction any more. They're constantly suspicious, Miz.
They're edgy. Old disputes between nations that have lay dormant for years are
suddenly erupting again. People are taking it out on each other, they're taking it out
on the Opaques... and it's all because of the Holy Apocalypse."
"The Holy Apocalypse? Why?"
"Because we misinterpreted it!" Afura affirmed. "Since ancient times, we always
assumed it foretold our doom. It was a certainty. It was the end! And now, we know
we were wrong. People are having to adjust to the idea that the most fundamental
prophecy in our society was a fake."
"Afura," Miz challenged, "the Holy Apocalypse wasn't a fake. It just happened
differently than we anticipated."
"That's not how people see it. Think about it, Miz. When you expect the world to
end and it doesn't, that's a pretty fundamental change of plan."
"The seminary are already debating this problem. I can see it concerns you, but..."
"It's not the problem that concerns me. It's the solution."
"Solution?" Miz asked. "You mean to say you've found an answer?"
Afura turned around, and leaned back on the balcony's guard rail. "I decided that in
light of the new meaning given to the Holy Apocalypse, a complete re-evaluation of
our theology was in order. After months of research, I came to a conclusion... that
goes against everything I believe in."
"Go on," Miz prompted. "Whatever it is, I won't judge you."
"You're familiar with the legend of the Heretic Prophecy?"
"Yes, of course. The prophecy contradicted Holy Law. It was condemned."
Afura continued solemnly. "Do you know how it contradicted Holy Law? The exact
content is a mystery, but it was said to foretell events that took place after the Holy
Apocalypse. The Holy Order of the day were unanimous. The Holy Apocalypse
WAS the end of the world. To claim that anything could occur after it was to
directly contradict it. The prophecy was declared unholy and banned."
"I see your point," Miz nodded. "Our distant predecessors thought the Heretic
Prophecy went against the Holy Apocalypse... but now it seems it may not have.
However, I seem to recall that all copies of the prophecy were destroyed. We'll
never know what it predicted."
"That might not be the case. I discovered a reference to the prophecy being
translated into a strange code and hidden away. I was considering trying to locate
it..." Her eyes looked to the floor.
"I think we should take this matter to the seminary," Miz suggested.
"Are you kidding?" Afura recoiled. "They'd never approve of something like this!"
"Don't be so sure," Miz advised. "You already have MY full support."

Day 4

The wedding. God, it was everywhere.
Everyone expected the press to be full of it, but the sheer volume of royal wedding-
flavoured fluff that was filling every newspaper in Roshtaria was staggering.
Tabloid editors must have fallen on their knees and given thanks to the almighty
when the wedding was first announced. Everybody had been interviewed. The royal
couple. Their families. Their families' friends. Their families' friends' pets. No
matter how spurious your connection to the wedding, you still counted. "Meet the
man who went to school with the brother of one of the royal gardeners!" headlines
would exclaim.
And predictably, newspaper sales were through the roof, as members of the public
spent their hard-earned money on collecting every different newspaper their was-
even the ones they really hated- just to read facts about the wedding that they'd
already read ten times before, and to peruse full-page advertisements for collectors'
edition plates depicting the royal couple.
Shayla studied the Roshtarian Observer's Super Pull-Out Colour Guide to the Royal
Wedding, and tried to find herself on the guest list.

'Number 312: Her Holiness Miss Shayla-Shayla, Chief Elemental Priestess of Fire.
Description- Shayla-Shayla's warm personality and sense of humour have won her
many friends within the royal household.'

That was supposed to be her? These guides were so sycophantic it was beyond
belief. Something along the lines of 'Shayla-Shayla has caused more damage to
property than any priestess before her' would have been much more appropriate.
Now, where was she supposed to be sitting? She turned to the guide's floor plan of
the cathedral, depicting the seating arrangements for the endless number of wedding
guests. 312, 312... there she was. Right at the front.

This wedding business wasn't helping her. Everywhere she went there was talk of
romance and love. It was the last thing she wanted to think about.
Somebody sat down next to her on the bench.
"Nanami?"
"I have to get ready for the wedding soon. But I wanted to talk to you first, Shayla."
"How do you do it, huh?" she challenged. "You and Qawoor are taking this a lot
better than I am."
"That's because me and Qawoor talked about our feelings for Makoto a long time
ago," Nanami said. "We always knew he wanted Ifurita. And we knew if we learned
to accept it, it'd be easier when she came back..."
Shayla slammed her fist down. For most people, this would have seemed aggressive,
but considering the massive destructive power at Shayla's disposal, this was an act
of considerable restraint.
"Makoto was the first man I ever liked. I really thought I could be happy with him."
She sighed. "I must have been so stupid."
"No, Shayla. That's just how I used to feel. I understand. But... I think what you said
to Ifurita yesterday was a little unnecessary."
"I know." Shayla looked guiltily to the floor.
"I found out something interesting about Ifurita yesterday. She has Makoto's
memories, right up until the point when she deactivated the Eye of God. So she
knows me. To a certain extent she knows you too. She feels the same way about as
that Makoto does."
Nanami stood up suddenly and called- "Hey! Makoto!"
"Makoto?" Shayla echoed. "Where?"
Then she saw him. Makoto had been walking towards the palace with Ifurita when
Nanami had spotted them. They were now cautiously making their way over.
"What are you asking them over here for?" Shayla panicked.
"You just admitted to me that you're sorry about what you did yesterday," Nanami
explained. "But I'm not the one who really needs to hear it."
Shayla reluctantly approached Ifurita. They both looked at each other for a while,
neither knowing what to say.
"I want to apologise, Shayla," Ifurita said, quite unexpectedly.
Shayla looked puzzled. "You? Why?"
"I was not sensitive to your feelings. In the excitement of seeing you again, I forgot
how deeply protective you feel towards Makoto. I should have given you more time
to..."
"Don't blame yourself," Shayla interrupted. "It was my fault. There. I said it." She
looked momentarily into Ifurita's eyes, and was somehow compelled to give the
tiniest hint of a smile. "Don't make me say it again."
"Wow!" Nanami laughed. "Hey, Shayla, for a second there I thought you were
gonna walk up to Ifurita and set fire to her!"
"I considered it," Shayla replied, leaving the others to decide whether she was joking
or not.
"Hey, look!" Makoto exclaimed, excited. "A floor plan! I wonder where we are?"
"Oh, that reminds me!" Nanami suddenly said. "I have to be getting to the palace.
I'll see you later!"
Nanami quickly made off in the direction of the palace. Shayla shook her head.
"Just why did SHE end up getting picked as a bridesmaid?"
Makoto was busy reading his entry on the guest list. "Number 248 and 249: Mr
Makoto Mizuhara and guest. Description- Makoto Mizuhara is the famous
researcher from Shinogome... Shinogome? Aw, that's not right..."

"Mr Fujisawa, is it time yet?"
Fujisawa stopped writing on the blackboard and looked over his shoulder. "I'll tell
you when it's time, kid. Now come on, settle down."
He continued to write.
Over the past year, Fujisawa had rediscovered his love for teaching. When he first
approached Central Florestica's main school, had had been given a job on the spot.
After all, having such a famous war hero as part of the staff was worth it in prestige
value alone. But then there was the problem of what he would teach...
History was out. He knew plenty of Earth history, but very little that was relevant to
El-Hazard. Likewise geography. Science too- El-Hazard was behind Earth in some
areas of science, but streets ahead in others. As for languages- he'd only just
mastered the Roshtarian writing system himself, so was hardly in a position to teach
it. PE was a possibility, but he was now so ridiculously strong that no student, no
matter how fit, could ever hope to keep up with him.
So he had ended up teaching mathematics. After Makoto had introduced him to the
thankfully simple El-Hazard numerical system, he had been given the task of
introducing some of the youngest students to the subject.
It may not have been intellectually challenging stuff. But teaching wasn't only what
you knew, it was how you taught it.
"Alright," he challenged the class. "Who can work out nineteen plus twenty-seven?"
All heads went down to their books as the students scribbled furiously, competing to
see who could get the answer first. Half of the students put their hands up.
"Asibi?" Fujisawa prompted one of the students.
"Forty-six, sir," she answered confidently.
"Good job," he congratulated. Then, noticing a frustrated face in the front row, he
crouched down next to the puzzled student.
"Do you understand, Ruwal?"
"Forty-six," the boy answered.
Fujisawa nodded. "Yes. But do you know how it's done?"
"No," he sighed.
"Well, let's try it now." He picked up the boy's pencil and pointed to the sum on the
page. "First, nine plus seven is..."
"Sixteen," came the immediate answer.
"Okay. So we put the six in the box, and the one goes here."
"But... why? Why does the one go there? I don't understand."
"We need to add the one to the numbers in the tens column, to..."
"Oh... wait, is the one really a ten?" the boy enquired.
"Well, really, yeah. But we write it as a one so that..."
The boy grinned. "I understand now. Thankyou, Mr Fujisawa."
Just goes to show, Fujisawa thought. A lot of people might have dismissed the boy
as slow, but in fact he just thought differently. An enquiring mind. He wasn't
prepared just to follow what others were doing, he wanted to know how and why a
system worked. In that sense, he was probably ahead of the other students.
Rewarding business, teaching. Back in Shinonome, he liked to think he'd had a
positive influence on many lives. Except...
There was one student he'd known. She was polite, she was clever. But she was
also... difficult. He couldn't claim to have changed the life of every single student
he'd taught. But at the very least, he'd been able, by whatever method, to reach
them. To understand them. All except for one.
He'd never reached her. Most teachers wouldn't have given it much thought. She
was a high achiever anyway, so what did it matter? But it bothered him. He felt he'd
done her a disservice.
"Mr Fujisawa, are you going to the wedding?" a student asked.
"Of course he is," another responded. "He's friends with the princess."
Fujisawa laughed quietly to himself. Wedding fever permeated every institution.
The school was no exception. But he had to wonder how much of the excitement in
his class was due to the royal wedding, and how much was due to the fact that they
were all getting the afternoon off to watch it.
"Can we go now?" one of the students moaned. "Please..."
"It's not time yet!" Fujisawa reaffirmed.
The door opened and Miz leaned in.
"Miz?" Fujisawa jumped. "I'm working! What are you doing here?"
"We need to get ready for the wedding, Masamichi," she hissed. "I've been
waiting!"
Fujisawa panicked, and found himself saying- "Class dismissed."

The waiting was over. The time was now.
The royal bride stood patiently at the altar.
The cathedral was packed. Just about everyone she had ever known was here, along
with plenty of people she'd never met.
The priestesses. The travellers from Earth. The palace staff. And, of course, her
sister. They were all here.

Yes, it was a big day for Princess Fatora.

Most people thought they would never see the day. Admittedly, it was hardly what
she had foreseen as her future. But here she was.

Nobody likes rules. And yet they exist. They must, for the survival of the species.
And it was the survival of the Roshtarian royal line which the ancients had had in
mind when they created the Rule.
The Roshtarian royal family's maternal line was unbroken. It had been since the
creation of the Eye of God, and this was all thanks to the Rule. The line could not be
broken. If it was, the family would no longer carry the gene which allowed control
of the Eye of God. The royal family would be effectively powerless.

The Rule: All Roshtarian princesses must be engaged for marriage by the age of
twenty-two.

To keep the gene alive, an average of two new princesses must be produced in each
generation. The rule ensured that took place.
Princess Rune had followed it. At the age of twenty-two, she was engaged to Galus.
Naturally, Fatora never dreamed that the rule would apply to her.
Five months ago, she discovered to her absolute horror that it did.
What was she going to do? She was twenty-one already. There just had to be a way
she could weasel out of it.
Her world began to crumble. Suddenly members of the Royal Advisory Committee
were asking her if she'd be interested in marrying such-and-such a prince from
whatever-land. She had tried explaining, as calmly as could have been expected
under the circumstances, that princes held no interest for her, except as target
practice. Some were sympathetic. But it didn't make any difference. The Rule was
the Rule, and nobody, not even the royal family themselves, had the authority to
change it.
It had not been a happy time. Finally, Fatora had gone to ask her sister's advice. She
had expected to be given one of Rune's standard "for the good of the country"
speeches. Instead, Rune had mysteriously advised her to seek out a legal document
in the Roshtarian Law Library. Namely, Law number 1696a.

1696a. It was very, very old. In fact, it dated back a good few thousand years. And it
was hardly a riveting read. Not exactly explosive stuff. In fact, Fatora could barely
make sense of it, but kept going out of sheer desperation.
When she got to the end, she noticed something odd.
Three years ago, somebody had amended the law without telling anyone. Only two
people in Roshtaria had the power to do that. And this was not Fatora's doing.
In the light of this amendment, Fatora read the document again with increasing
excitement. It looked like there might be... yes!
There was a way out of this!

A cascade of whispers echoed through the cathedral, indicating to Fatora that her
betrothed was approaching down the aisle.
Not long now. Very, very soon, she would be married. Who would have guessed
she'd beat her sister to the altar?
Her future spouse stopped next to her. They exchanged knowing smiles.
Nice outfit, Fatora thought. Alielle looked good in purple.
"Oh, Fatora," Alielle whispered with adoring eyes.
"What?" Fatora smirked.
Alielle waved her hand in the direction of the congregation. The mass of dignitaries,
acquaintances, acquaintances of acquaintances and royal correspondents from the
press, all packed into the main chamber.
"Wouldn't it be funny if we sounded the fire alarm now?" she grinned.
The two brides couldn't help but giggle as they pictured the scenes of chaos, elderly
lords barging each other out of the way...
Had it been anyone else's wedding, Fatora would have been tempted. But there
would be no mayhem at her wedding. That sort of thing could wait for the
honeymoon.

Yes, on that day in the Law Library, Fatora discovered that, three years ago, her
sister had discreetly altered the wording in one of the laws governing marriage. It
was now entirely legal for Fatora to marry anybody, regardless of gender. And the
law had been waiting here all this time. Waiting until she really needed it.
The look of complete bewilderment on Alielle's face when she proposed to her
would stay with Fatora for the rest of her life.

Behind them knelt the two head bridesmaids. Fatora had chosen her sister, and
Alielle had chosen Nanami.
"How wonderful," Rune whispered. "My dear sister, a bride at last."
Nanami nodded in acknowledgement. "There are certain things in life I never
thought I'd see. Fatora in a wedding dress is one of them."
"I can't tell you how happy I am for her," Rune sighed.
That's nice, Nanami thought. It seemed to her that Princess Rune shouldered most of
the responsibility as far as the monarchy was concerned, so that Fatora didn't have
to worry about it. Fatora did things for pleasure, while Rune did them for the people.
In all likelihood, Rune would marry for political reasons, not love. It would be she
that would give birth to the next generation of Roshtarian princesses. And here was
Fatora, entering into a marriage that left the political landscape unchanged, and by
its very nature was unlikely to produce any children. Rune could be forgiven for
resenting Fatora, but she didn't. She supported her. That, thought Nanami, is how
siblings should really treat each other.
"Dear friends," Doctor Schtalubaugh began, "we are gathered here today to
celebrate the marriage of Princess Fatora of Roshtaria to Miss Alielle Ralielle. As is
the tradition, the bride will now say a few words."
The doctor looked expectantly between the two brides. "Which bride will be
speaking?" he whispered.
Fatora stepped up, and turned to face the public. Her public.
"There are some people here," she started, "who disapprove of this wedding. Now I
won't stand here and name names. I'm not a vindictive woman. But I also believe in
freedom of information, so a full list of offenders will be made available to satisfy
the curious."
A little nervous laughter from the congregation. She smiled. The bastards knew who
they were.
She continued. "Of all the women I've slept with, and continue to sleep with, none
can compare to Alielle. No offence to them, but, you know. Five years ago, Alielle
did the Roshtarian public a great service. She transformed me into the woman I am
today. And for that, let us all be thankful."

Sat right at the front, Alielle's proud mother sighed and whispered, "What a lovely
girl the princess is. Hasn't Alielle done well for herself?"
Parnasse frowned up at his mother. "Lady Fatora could have been mine, if only I'd
got to her sooner."
"Well, you're not going to find yourself a nice girl by complaining, are you? You
need to think more positively if you're going to do as well as your sister."
"Mother! She's marrying a princess! How can you expect me to compete with that?"
"Fatora's not the only princess here, Parnasse. Her sister Rune is still single..."
"Please, mother! It's not like I haven't tried..."

The service was long. And God, it was boring. Fatora was living to regret her
demands for a big, elaborate wedding. It had sounded so romantic at the time. Now
she was wondering whether some of the older members of the congregation would
live to witness its conclusion.
Eventually, the doctor reached a part of the ceremony she recognised.
"Should anybody here know of any reason why these two should not be wed, may
they speak now..."
Alielle looked tense suddenly. True, there was no shortage of people who objected
to this marriage, and quite a lot of them were here.
Fatora placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. They wouldn't dare.
After a suitably dramatic pause, the doctor continued.
"Alielle Rianna Ralielle, do you accept this woman to be your lawful wedded wife?"
"I do."
He turned to Fatora. "Princess Fatora Sama Yasuko Bellum Puyo Dunoon Kirilo
Fuzuki Chihiro Leena Washu Manda Hentai Kerokero Chichan Upsy Daisy Ramsy
Hiiragi-Fullerine-Jagdhar-Al Roshtak..." He paused for breath. "Do you accept this
woman to be your lawful wedded wife?"
"Why not?" Fatora grinned.
"Well, in that case, Schtalubaugh continued unfazed, "I hereby pronounce you
married. As a consequence, from this day forward Miss Ralielle shall be known as
Princess Alielle, third sovereign of Roshtaria."
"Yay!" Alielle squealed.
"Well?" Fatora looked expectantly at Schtalubaugh.
He looked hesitant. "That concludes the ceremony."
"The hell it does. What happened to the part about kissing the bride?"
"Well, princess," he answered discreetly, "as this is a royal wedding, the council felt
that such a public display might be inappropriate..."
Fatora threw him a withering look, grabbed Alielle and kissed her.
Conversation rippled through the chamber in response.

Makoto, Ifurita and the Fujisawas sat together.
"I must admit," Makoto commented, "when I first met Fatora I didn't imagine I'd be
sitting here four years later."
"Yeah," Fujisawa agreed. "Alielle a princess? I don't think anyone could have
predicted that."
"Such a display of emotion is inspiring," Ifurita noted.
Fujisawa nodded. "I don't think I've ever been to such a romantic wedding."
He received a discreet but painful kick from Miz.
"Wuh... what? What did I say?"

Nanami addressed the crowd of royalty, ambassadors and dignitaries of all shapes
and sizes outside the purple marquee.
"Alright, no pushing! The more you people co-operate the sooner you'll all be
seated. No pushing, I said! Now, do we have the Acrisian delegation?"
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed somebody going to enter the marquee.
"Hey! You! I don't care how important you think you are, you're gonna wait in line
like everybody else!"
The woman looked up. Nanami gasped.
"Princess Rune... I'm sorry, I didn't realise it was you..." she apologised.
"Please, Nanami, don't mention it," the princess laughed. "I'm very impressed with
the way you're able to keep them under control. Have you ever considered a career
in politics?"
"Not for me. I have enough stress in my life already." She suddenly turned her gaze
back to the crowd. "Hey! Second Prince of Gunan! Don't think I can't see you!"
"You're doing an excellent job with the catering," Rune added. "I'll be sure to come
to you when my wedding comes."
"Oh? I didn't know you were planning to get married."
"I have no immediate plans," Rune sighed. "But it will happen, very soon, I'm sure.
The time will come."
Alielle's mother marched over to the pair, dragging Parnasse behind her.
"Princess!" she called. "Princess Rune!"
"May I help you?" Rune asked.
"I'm Adena Ralielle," she said. "Alielle's mother."
"Of course," Rune nodded in recognition.
The woman continued. "I was wondering... have you met my son, Parnasse?"
"Mother!" Parnasse hissed. "I told you! We've already been introduced!"
"Yes," Rune agreed. "We've met on many occasions. Your son is most popular with
the women of the palace."
Parnasse turned to his mother. "You see? Now, I think I can hear Lady Qawoor
calling." He wriggled free of his mother's grip. "I'm on my way, Lady Qawoor!" he
called, running towards the marquee.

Parnasse entered the tent and saw Qawoor, Shayla and Afura sat at one of the tables.
"Parnasse!" Qawoor beckoned, "have you seen Lady Fatora and Alielle?"
"They're getting changed," he replied.
"Changed?" Afura pondered. "How come?"
"Lady Fatora said something about the wedding dresses being to hot and difficult to
move in."
Afura smiled and nodded knowingly. "I see. Impeding their pursuit of women, are
they?"
"Sister Afura!" Qawoor objected. "They're married now. I'm sure that means they
won't be getting up to any of that any more."
"That's a point," Shayla agreed. "Maybe now they'll leave us alone."
Afura laughed. "I can't BELIEVE how naive the two of you are! There are some
things in life that will never change, and Fatora and Alielle are two of those things."
"Hey! Sisters!"
Upon hearing the sound of Alielle's voice, the four turned to look at the entrance.
Fatora and Alielle had returned, now dressed in their favourite skintight leather
outfits.
"I rest my case," said Afura.
Qawoor approached the pair. "Excuse me, Lady Fatora, Lady Alielle, but I was just
explaining to Sister Afura that you'll be faithful to one another now that you're
married... right?"
Fatora put her hand on Qawoor's shoulder. "Listen, kid. This monarchy, in fact, just
about every monarchy, has a proud tradition of debauchery to uphold. If I was to
ignore that tradition, I don't think I could live with myself. That's why Alielle and I
have made a solemn pledge to take this legacy to new heights. Wanna help?"
"Um... no thankyou," Qawoor smiled nervously. "So... is your honeymoon all
planned?"
"Oh, I can't wait for the honeymoon!" Alielle squeaked. "We're going to my
favourite place ever!"
"Where's that?" enquired Qawoor.
"Arliman!" Alielle replied. "The funnest place in the world!"
Afura was mildly shocked. "You can't! Arliman is a holy shrine, not a honeymoon
destination!"
"Besides," Shayla probed, "weren't you two banned from there?"
"You'd be amazed what a few bribes here and there can do," Fatora smirked.
"Impossible!" said Afura. "I refuse to believe the Holy Order accepted bribes from
you."
"Not accepting bribes from a Roshtarian princess is a serious breach of the most
basic royal etiquette," Fatora replied. "Alielle, you should be taking notes. You're
one of the elite now, and your training starts here!"
Alielle grabbed Fatora by the waist. "What an honour! Fatora, my love, will you
teach me to be just like you?"
"Please," Shayla pleaded. "For the sake of humanity, don't!"
"On they contrary," Fatora smiled. "I consider that to be our ultimate goal. Now,
Alielle let me show you how to fire servants..."
"But... why would I want to do that?"
"Isn't it obvious? Firing people is one of the best parts of the job!" Fatora continued,
leading Alielle away.
"But I don't think I want to..."
Qawoor shook her head. "I don't know HOW the Holy Order could have decided to
let them back into Arliman."
"Well, never mind," Afura said. "I suppose we can let it go, just this once. It is their
honeymoon, after all."
"You seem a lot happier suddenly," Shayla noted. "We were getting worried about
you for a while."
Afura smiled and said nothing. True, she was feeling much better. Miz had passed
her quandary over the Heretic Prophecy to the seminary. It could go either way, but
the important thing was that it was no longer just her problem.

"Master Makoto!"
Alielle and Fatora ran over to the table where Makoto and Ifurita were sitting.
"Hi Alielle," Makoto greeted in response.
"Alielle!" Fatora instructed. "Rule number one of being a princess. From now on,
nobody is Master, or Lady, or any of that crap. That's because we're far, far superior
to the scum we have to interact with. Oh, hi Makoto."
"So, um, princess," Makoto began, trying to ignore the rather obvious insult, "that
was one impressive wedding. I don't think I've ever seen anything on such a large
scale."
"Hardly surprising," Fatora said. "The little people are always impressed by royal
ceremonies and traditions, no matter how pointless or incomprehensible. Make a
note of that, Alielle."
"Well," Alielle replied, the press seemed to enjoy it."
"Ah, the press," Fatora smiled. "Makoto, you wouldn't believe how much money we
made selling the wedding rights to those talentless hacks."
"So you sold your wedding rights to the press?"
Alielle nodded proudly. "Mm-hmm!"
"Oh, you have to be selective," Fatora warned. "You have your broadsheets- the
proper newspapers with semi-literate journalists. They get the wedding rights. Then
there's the tabloids, full of scandal, intrigue and so on."
"They get the honeymoon rights!" Alielle finished.
"Honeymoon rights?" Makoto echoed in disbelief. "I think I need something to
drink. 'Scuse me."
Makoto got up and wandered off. Fatora and Alielle tentatively approached Ifurita,
neither quite brave enough to speak.
"Where is your honeymoon?" she asked suddenly. The pair jumped.
"Arliman," Alielle replied. "You should try it, it's nice."
Fatora sat down next to Ifurita. "Yeah. You are... waterproof, right?"
"I am capable of anything a human can do," came the calm reply.
"Really?" Fatora asked intrigued. "Maybe you could answer something. I know it's
personal, but... are you... you know... fully functional?"
"In a sexual capacity?" Alielle clarified.
Ifurita frowned. "Makoto warned me about you."
Alielle and Fatora giggled nervously.
"You misunderstand," Fatora continued. "This is strictly out of scientific curiosity.
How exactly do you and Makoto intend to... you know?"
Ifurita stood up. "I might ask the two of you the same question."
"Good point," Fatora relented. "Shall we... compare notes?"
Qawoor marched over. "Miss Ifurita, are they bothering you?"
"I am fine," Ifurita acknowledged. "Thankyou for your concern." She placed her
hand on Qawoor's shoulder, then suddenly stumbled backwards. Alielle caught her.
"Are you alright?" Alielle urged.
"F... fine..." Ifurita stammered. "How strange. Please, what is your name?"
"Qawoor Towles," Qawoor replied.
Ifurita looked puzzled. "Qawoor Towles. I have no knowledge of your name. And
yet... somehow, something about you is familiar..."

The sun was setting. A small crowd gathered around Fatora's newest transport, the
Glorious Fatora IX. A pilot stood at the helm, and the figures stood at the rear.
"Have a wonderful honeymoon, both of you," Rune smiled.
"Thankyou, princess!" Alielle replied.
Fatora took Rune quietly to one side.
"Sis, I know you altered that law. But why three years ago? And why didn't you tell
me sooner?"
"I didn't want to worry you unduly. But I knew that eventually, you'd have to face
the Rule. It seemed such a shame. It was obvious to me that the two of you were
meant to be together. So I did what any sister would have done in my position."
"You've always looked out for me," Fatora sighed. "Why are you so obsessed with
making sacrifices for my benefit, Rune?"
Rune smiled, and made her way down the steps. "You know why. Have fun, little
sister."
Alielle approached Fatora. "What was that about?"
"Oh, nothing. Are you gonna do that bouquet thing?"

Rune rejoined the onlookers. Alielle was waving a bouquet of purple flowers over
the side of the transport.
"Get ready!" she called.
"What's she doing?" Shayla asked.
"Oh, it's an Earth tradition I taught her," Nanami replied. "The bride throws the
bouquet, and whoever catches it will be the next to get married."
"Really?" Shayla looked surprised. "And is that legally binding?"
"Here it comes!" Alielle shouted, hurling the bouquet over the side. All eyes
followed it as it sailed down towards them...
Instinctively, Afura caught the flowers. Fatora and Alielle collapsed with laughter.
"Congratulations, Afura!" Alielle called.
"Congratulations... for what?" Afura asked, wondering what exactly everyone
around her was finding so funny.

Day 6

Damn blossoms. They were everywhere.
Mari walked sadly through the trees. What had she done?
She'd been wandering around this stupid forest for days, surviving on nothing
except an unfamiliar type of fruit which, while rather palatable at first, was perhaps
just a tad acidic for her tastes.
She caught her reflection in a small lake.
She looked terrible. Her clothes were torn from stumbling through the undergrowth,
and she was paler than ever before.
At least she still had her makeup. From a survival point of view it wasn't the most
useful thing she could have brought, but it was still strangely comforting.
For all she knew, she was the only person in this place, wherever it was. This could
be another time, another universe, in which she was the sole representative of
humanity. So she was happy to have her consumer goods with her. They were quite
possibly the only ones on this planet.
Using the lake as a mirror, she reapplied her mascara and black lipstick. A pointless
task, perhaps, but she had ceased to think rationally some days ago.
And that's when she heard... voices.

Three Roshtarian soldiers sat in a clearing. The Greater Roshtarian Forest was an
occasional route for smugglers, so the military took the precautionary measure of
dotting soldiers around the vast area.
The younger soldier let out a sigh of boredom. "I wish we'd been stationed
somewhere with a few more people."
"This is your first time in the forest, isn't it?" the old sergeant asked. "You know
what they say about this forest."
"What?" the soldier smiled. "Are you going to tell me it's haunted?"
"More than that. They say Death itself stalks this forest."
The soldier laughed mockingly. "Very funny. You think you can scare me with
some folk tale? I'm not a little kid."
The captain couldn't help but join in. "Death... yes. Death is a woman. She has no
colour at all. Just black and white."
"Lady Death's face is pale and sad. Her eyes are small and staring. The few men
who have survived an encounter with her did so by bargaining for their lives. For
most, though, the story is the same. With one glance, she makes your heart freeze!
And then..."
"Alright, sergeant," the captain interrupted. "Let's not scare the boy."
"I'm not scared!" the younger soldier protested. "In fact, I'm..."
"What?" the captain asked. The soldier was staring in terror at something behind
them.
"Lady... Death..." the soldier whispered breathlessly.
Slowly the captain and the sergeant turned their heads...
And watching them was the very woman they had described.
"Hello," she said cautiously.
"Lady Death!" the captain and sergeant cried in unison.
"What?"
They grabbed their weapons and pointed them at Lady Death. The other soldier
stayed rooted to the spot, his expression unchanged.
"Lady Death," the captain pleaded. "Do not harm us, please!"
"You're the ones with the guns," she pointed out.
The captain dropped his weapon instantly, and turned to the sergeant. "Put down
your gun, you fool! Do you want to offend Death?"
The sergeant did as he was told.
"Lady Death, please forgive us," the captain continued desperately. "You do not
have to take our lives. We can give you anything you want, anything!"
Mari didn't know what the hell was going on, but after six days with only fruit for
company she was willing to overlook such technicalities.
"Got any food?" she asked hopefully.

TO BE CONTINUED

"The Streets Are Paved With Tarmac" and "Back In Love" featured-
Makoto Mizuhara, Shayla-Shayla, Ifurita, Miz Fujisawa, Masamichi Fujisawa,
Princess Fatora, Princess Alielle, Nanami Jinnai, Afura Mann, Qawoor Towles,
Mari Kurai, Sakura Tamaro, Princess Rune Venus, Doctor Schtalubaugh, Parnasse
Ralielle, Adena Ralielle and Mika Fujisawa.

dooky
3rd April 2001