BLUE CRYSTALS

    Benten picked up the little cluster of blue crystals and turned it over in
his long, thin fingers.  Pretty, but pointless.  He put it back down on the
shelf among all the other pretty, pointless things.  Vases, statuettes, pill
boxes.  So many things.  He had spent hours exploring the expensive, beautiful
clutter that filled Hokusai's flat.  So many things, like a nest, a hoard.  Too
many things ever to take or to leave behind.  Maybe that was the magic, the
pull that had let the boy find his way back.  Things and people.  His life was
full of both.  That was what had given him the will to come home.  Well, that
and the fact that a great number of people had gone to a lot of effort to get
him back and to restore his health once he was here.  Benten shook his head,
still overwhelmed by the noise, the coming and going of people, the worry, the
shouting.  And all about Hokusai.  Incidental to it all, they'd managed to heal
his body too, feed him, find someone he could talk to.  He was learning the
language, trying to find an identity here.  God knows, there was nothing and
no-one to pull him back to his own world.
    He sighed.  In the other room, Hokusai slept, but Benten had awoken at
three in the morning.  He had been naked when he had come to this new world but
he had still brought too much with him.  He wanted to start again but his old
habits and the worn ruts along which his thoughts inevitably ran, had come
along too.  Could you ever really start again?  Maybe someone more in control
might.  But not him, it seemed.  Why couldn't he just let go, let it all go...
He clenched his fists, the sharp nails digging into his palms, and wrapped his
arms around himself, leaning against the wall.  I can be whoever I want, he
told himself wearily.  I'm not Hasegawa's puppet any more.  I'm not a freak
here.  I'm not a coward.
    Aren't you now, asked the embittered voice that was himself.  Could you
face the Nakamura brothers?  Hasegawa?  Could you face endless corridors and
locked doors without losing your mind again?  He moaned softly, hunching over
as tears welled from his eyes.
    "What's wrong?"
    Benten's head snapped back at the sound, straightening up to see Hokusai
silhouetted in the doorway.  He gasped, thankful for the long, disheveled hair
that hid the tears on his face.
    "Are you all right?"  Hokusai hurried towards him with a concerned
expression.  "I thought I heard something..."
    Benten backed away.  "Fine, I just couldn't sleep," but his breaking voice
betrayed him.  He turned away but Hokusai reached out and brushed his hair back
from his face.  "Oh, you're crying!"
    "I'm all right."
    "Benten, what's wrong?  Is there anything I can-"
    "Leave me alone!"
    Hokusai flinched and backed away, face crumpling.  Oh god, thought Benten.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I don't mean it, you, you caught me at a bad time,
that's all.  I'm sorry, really."
    Hokusai relaxed a little.  "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked
hesitantly, "It's good to get that sort of thing off your chest, you know."
    "No."  Half the problem was that his traitor mind insisted on giving him
endless technicolour replays.  The last thing he wanted was to rehash it all
with someone.
    Hokusai sniffed.  He wouldn't just go away, but neither did he have the
nerve to come any closer.  Benten stayed in the shadows, arms folded tightly
across his chest, wishing the boy would go back to bed.  Had he felt stronger
himself he'd have put his arms round Hokusai and cuddled him.  He longed for
the physical touch but was still too close to tears, the memory that had awoken
him was still too fresh, to trust himself not to collapse into a snivelling
heap.  Hokusai did enough of that for both of them.  No, that wasn't fair.
They just had different ways of coping.  Only time would tell whose was better.
    "Go to bed," he said softly, then half-smiled.  "You know, those were the
first words I learned in English?  Broken Claw kept saying that to me."
    Hokusai smiled as well.  "He's wonderful, isn't he?"  He stepped closer.
Without meaning to, Benten backed away.  A pout formed on Hokusai's face, then
he turned and went back into the bedroom, pointedly closing the door behind
him.  Benten watched him go, almost called out after him then kept silent.  He
couldn't deal with the boy's feelings just then.  After a few moments he shoved
himself away from the wall and paced round the room.  There wasn't enough clear
floor space to do any katas properly.  Then he realised that Hokusai could
probably hear him pacing and threw himself into an armchair instead.  He drew
his legs up and wrapped his arms round his knees, resting his cheek against
them.
    What was he going to do?  Physically, he was healed, pretty much.  Hokusai
had said he could create a new identity for him, supply him with all the
official documentation and a healthy supply of credit.  Fine.  Neither of them
had felt that there were any debts between them, they had talked about it, but
they had stopped short of discussing anything further.  Benten was fairly
certain that the boy was slightly infatuated with him, from the way he saw
those wide, shining eyes looking at him from time to time.  And himself, how
did he feel?  There he shied away, less willing to follow that train of
thought.  Yes, he liked the boy, when Hokusai wasn't being completely
aggravating.  And he was so beautiful.  Time and again, Benten had caught
himself staring, not breathing, completely captivated by the line of his limbs,
his hair, his eyes.  But Hokusai deserved better, he needed someone who was
ready to hover around him, protect him, and Benten knew he could not tolerate
that clinging nature for long.  Besides, Hokusai had so many friends ready to
leap to his side, he did not need some pathetic head case who couldn't stop
wallowing in the past.
    He bit his lip.  There you go again.  Hasegawa doesn't exist any more, as
far as you're concerned.  Sachiko and the Nakamura brothers are dead for real.
So's Carrie.  So's Remi Masuda and Saionji, for that matter.  There's no-one
here but you.
    No.  That wasn't true.  In this world, he did have a past, a real one, not
just a scar-tissue of memory.  His father was of this world.  His father.
    He was dozing, still huddled in the armchair, next morning when Woody woke
him by nuzzling against his bare shoulder.  Benten smiled at the cat,
scratching the top of its head, and went into the kitchen to spoon out some
breakfast for it.  Woody twined appreciatively around his bare legs and the
soft furry warmth made him realise how cold the rest of him was.  Why the hell
couldn't he manage to get a night's sleep in a normal bed like anybody else?
Oh, give it a break.  He'd spent what had felt like weeks in bed while Hokusai
had been ill and it seemed like the world and its big sister had crowded into
the flat to look after him.  Hearing the racket, Benten had been only too glad
to stay out of the way, and soon Woody had also discovered the oasis of quiet
in the second bedroom.  He was the first, the only, cat Benten had ever seen
and he was still fascinated by the elegant creature.  He stood watching it eat,
then, as long as he was there anyway, made himself some tea and ate a banana
from the fruit bowl.
    A door banged open, Hokusai's door.  Benten froze, teacup halfway to his
lips.  Long moments passed without further sound.  He drank the rest of the
tea.  Woody had finished a large plate of tinned food and was washing.  Benten
waited for Hokusai to come into the kitchen.  Normally the boy didn't make a
sound: banging doors wasn't a good sign.  Finally, he couldn't stand the
suspense any longer and pushed open the kitchen door.  Hokusai was curled up in
the same armchair Benten had recently vacated, his cyberdeck balanced across
his lap and the jack disappearing up into his hair.  His thin fingers played
languidly across the keys, eyes closed and a distant smile about his lips.
Benten watched for long moments, leaning against the doorway.  He had seen the
elf jack in before and was relieved to see him do it now.  It meant that last
night's row wouldn't be continued, at least not immediately.  He tiptoed past,
into his room and closed the door gently.  He still felt tired, and wanted to
go back to bed.  Even before hearing Broken Claw's wise words, sleep had been
Benten's only way of coping with whatever ailed him.  Sleep, and hoping there'd
be no dreams, hoping it would be better next morning.
    He slept well this time, not waking until mid-afternoon, then lying in bed
for another half an hour, enjoying the peace.  But after a while he found
himself becoming tense again, worrying about Hokusai.  When he tried to divert
his thoughts from that track they started down a darker one: just how long are
you planning on lying around here doing nothing anyway?  You reckon you've left
all your troubles behind you, so, fine.  What are you going to do with your
life now?  He escaped into movement, getting out of the warm bed and pushing
himself through his usual series of exercises.  It was a way of avoiding
thought and he was sweating when he finished.  He needed the bathroom.
    Outside, Hokusai was sitting exactly as before.  Ignoring him, Benten went
to have a shower.  As ever, he felt a little claustrophobic in the cluttered
opulence of the bathroom.  There shouldn't be so much fabric swagged around it,
so many containers to knock over and spill.  Even the shower itself had more
things than anyone could possibly need hanging in it.  He ignored the flannels,
the long- and short-handled brushes, the pumice, the bottles, bottles,
bottles.  All he needed was shampoo and conditioner and some body lotion for
after.
    And a hairdryer.  When he had towelled his hair, he leaned over and brushed
it forward to dry it.  It was getting a bit straggly, Benten realised.  It
needed trimming and maybe a proper conditioning treatment.  He'd have to ask
Hokusai where he had his hair done.
    The boy was still in his own little world, fingertips pattering quietly
over the keyboard.  He'd started at eight in the morning and it was now nearly
five pm.  Unless he'd had a break while Benten was asleep, Hokusai had been
jacked in for about nine hours.  Benten went into the kitchen, where a quick
glance showed that everything was as he'd left it himself.  Well, no-one ever
died of malnutrition in a day.  He opened some soup, heated it in the microwave
and ate it at the kitchen table with some bread.
    By eleven that night Benten had read most of a tape about the main elven
habitations in Hokusai's world.  He wasn't as fast as Hokusai at learning
languages, but as he had no intention of ever being fitted with a data jack, he
could live with it.  Speaking of which...  He put the book aside and went back
out to the living room.  No change.  Fifteen hours the boy had been sitting
there.  Wasn't his bladder feeling the strain by now?  Benten wondered whether
he should do anything.  He walked around the sitting room, watching the boy
from all angles.  He called his name, softly at first then louder.  Nothing.
Finally, he shrugged and went to bed.  Hokusai did this sort of thing all the
time, or so he'd been told.  He must know what he was doing.  If Benten
interfered he'd probably just get shouted at.  Bv tomorrow morning the kid
would have gone to bed and hopefully even forgotten about their earlier row.
    It was no good.  He couldn't sleep.  He tried.  He tossed and turned, tried
meditating to clear his mind but couldn't get rid of the image of that cable
disappearing among the whisps of soft hair.  Should he do anything?  What? No
matter what he did, it would probably be the wrong thing.  Well, in that case
he might as well do the thing he wanted to do.
    Not giving himself time to reconsider, Benten strode out to where Hokusai
was sitting, grabbed the cable and yanked it firmly out of the boy's socket.
Hokusal gasped and went rigid.  The deck began to slide off his lap.  Knowing
how much the boy valued it, Benten caught it and eased it onto another chair.
Then he put both arms around Hokusai and held him as he beyan to shiver,
seemingly gulping for air.  Worrying now, Benten shook him, calling his name
more and more loudly.  Suddenly Hokusai's eyes snapped into focus and he began
to struggle in Benten's grip.
    "Let me go, let me go!  Why'd you do that?  I was busy, I was doing
something, get away from me!"  His voice rose to a scream and Benten backed
away hurriedly.
    "I was worried about you!  You've been in there since yesterday morning
without anything to eat or drink.  Now I may not know much about the way you
work but fifteen hours without even some water can't be good for anybody!"
Benten was shouting, angered by the boy's reaction.  They were both standing,
glaring at each other.  Then Hokusai swayed, clutching at the back of the
armchair.  Benten swore and reached for him.  The boy's eyes widened in fear
and he staggered around the back of the armchair, keeping it between them.
"Don't touch me!"
    Benten stopped and stared at him.
    "Don't hit me."
    "Hit you?  What the hell makes you think I'm going to hit you?  You idiot,
you can hardly stand up-"
    Hokusai skittered away.  "You hit me before."
    Benten was stunned.  "But that was ages ago!  I said I was sorry - are you
still worrying about that?"  Hokusai said nothing but the fear in his eyes gave
Benten his answer.  He sighed.  "All right then, I'll say it again: I'm sorry.
I didn't mean it.  I promise I'll never do it again."  My god, he thought, if I
went round being that scared of everyone who'd ever hit me I'd have never
reached - no.  It's all in the past, it's gone and forgotten."  He stood still,
watching Hokusai.  The boy was leaning on the back of the chair.
    In a tiny voice he said "You were worried about me?"
    "Well, yes," replied Benten, relieved at the change of subject.  "I
wouldn't have thought you were well enough to go that long without a drink or a
rest.  How do you feel?  You look tired."
    "I need to go to the loo."  Hokusai staggered in the direction of the
bathroom.
    "I'll be in the kitchen, making tea."  He felt tired too, for all that he'd
slept most of the day.  He prepared soup and bread for Hokusai and fed Woody
again.  The cat had a marvellous talent for appearing out of nowhere whenever
there was any activity in the kitchen.
    Hokusai seemed relatively cheerful as he spooned up soup and nibbled
breadcrumbs.  At one point he looked slightly askance at Benten and said "You
were really worried about me, then?"  Benten nodded, and sipped his tea to
avoid having to reply.  "That's nice.  It's strange, I mean - no-one ever cares
about me."  He caught Benten's incredulous expression.  "They only worry that
I'll get damaged and I won't be able to do any work for them.  They don't
really like me, they just tease me all the time."
    Benten felt like shaking the boy.  How could he not see what was so obvious
to an outsider?  Or was he just fishing for reassurances?  He'd never met
anyone who needed as much reassurance as Hokusai did and the strain of
supplying it was beginning to tell.  He concentrated on his tea, trying
desperately to think of a way of changing the increasingly maudlin tone of the
one-sided conversation.  Oh, yes.
    He put down his cup and ran a hand through the shaggy fringe that was
setting in his eyes all the time now.  "Ah, this is trivial, but I've been
meaning to ask you something.  I think I need to get my hair cut a bit.  Is
there anywhere you could recommend?"
    Hokusai's eyes lit up.  "Oh, yes, mine needs doing too.  Oh, that's an
excellent idea - we can both go to Jean-Claude's tomorrow."  He narrowed his
eyes, concentrating.  "Actually, if we're going into town I ought to take you
shopping - you do need some more clothes.  Oh, we can go and see Moira!"
    Benten was a little taken aback at the boy's sudden enthusiasm.  "Well, all
I had in mind was a haircut, but not somewhere where they'll just hack it off."
    "Don't worry, Jean-Claude's wonderful, I wouldn't trust anyone else with my
hair.  And you do really need some clothes, you've been wearing those old pants
and t-shirts of Lom's for a week now.  Oh, come on, it'll be fun.  And we can
have lunch somewhere nice..."
    "All right, all right.  Yes, I suppose it would be nice to get out a bit."
That was an understatement, he was going stir-crazy, but he hadn't considered a
shopping expedition with Hokusai as his first foray into this new world, he'd
just wanted to go mooching around quietly for a few hours, not drawing any
attention to himself.  Somehow, he didn't think the pair of them together would
be that inconspicuous, even here.  But Hokusai was away on a wave of delighted
anticipation: " - and we could go to a club later on - oh, I know this
wonderful place, you'll love it!"
    "Hold on, I don't think we should overdo it.  I'm still not feeling that
energetic, you know.  "Certainly not energetic enough to carry you home if you
shop 'til you drop, little one."
    "Oh, no, of course not.  Yes, we can leave the club 'til another time if
you like.  Oh, but we've got to go to the Golden Apple, they do the best
leather jackets in town.  You'll look wonderful in a leather jacket, one with
lots of chains and buckles..."
    Benten's eyebrows rose.  "Chains and buckles, maybe not.  Now go get some
sleep or you'll be too tired tomorrow."  It was like dealing with a child.
When Hokusai had gone, he stood up and gathered the crockery into the sink.  It
might be a good idea after all to go out with a native guide, at least the
first time, but he hoped Hokusai's excitability was a side-effect of being
jerked out of cyberspace, along with his earlier anger.  Was their first
meeting really still haunting him to that extent?  He rubbed his eyes wearily
and went to bed.
    He dreamed of his first meeting with Hokusai.  In the dream, and at the
time, he had thought he saw himself in that white hair and thin, pale face, -
oh, they had been well-placed blows.  They were hurting both of them still.
    As usual, he woke too early, but used the time to do some exercises and to
will himself into a state of relaxation.  This would be his first real look at
this world that was to be his home and now that he was actually about to go out
into it rather than read tapes or watch the vidscreen, he realised with dismay
that he was fairly anxious about it.  Would he fit in?  Or would he be a freak
here, too, someone to be stared at and whispered about as he walked by?  Here,
he'd be nobody, nothing.  In his own world he'd had defenses against the
stares, the occasional drunken attacks: at first his reputation in the
underworld and later his Cyber Police badge, had served to scatter the curious,
the hateful.  Here, he was nobody.  If he were attacked here, he'd have to
fight.  He knew he was good at that - where he'd come from he was stronger and
faster than most.  But against people here, would he have any such advantages.
Trying to rid his mind of such worries, he nevertheless repeated his exercise
routine one more time.
    He had eaten, washed and dressed before hearing the first stirrings from
Hokusai's room.  The boy opened his bedroom door and stood framed in the
doorway, all dissheveled hair and bleary eyes.  A lilac silk kimono slid from
one white shoulder to reveal the sharp edge of a collarbone and an upper arm
that was mere skin and bone before he caught the slithering cloth.  "Oh, am I
late?"  His eyes widened at the sight of Benten in front of the vidscreen.
    "No, I'm early, it's only half past eight.  Go have your shower, I'll get
you some breakfast."
    "Oh, no, don't worry, I'm not hungry, not when we're going shopping."
    Benten stood up but did not approach the boy, afraid of a repeat of last
night's traumas.  "You're not going anywhere without breakfast.  If you get
exhausted running around town, Broken Claw will never let me forget it."
    Hokusai pouted a little, but the thought of going into town was visibly
stronger than his normal desire to sulk at the least provocation.  "Oh, all
right," he murmured, and disappeared into the bathroom.  Benten knew from past
experience that there was no need to hurry to make tea.  He sat down again and
kept watching the news.  Sure enough, it was another three-quarters of an hour
before the bathroom door opened and Hokusai emerged in a cloud of scented
steam, swathed in a couple of pink towels.  "I've just had a quick wash," he
told Benten as he pattered back to his bedroom door, "after all, Jean-Claude
will wash our hair before he trims it.  Oh, I'm looking forward to this."
Benten smiled.  Hokusai looked particularly sweet when damp and wrapped in
towels, and he smiled back before closing the door.  Again, Benten knew he'd
have at least another half hour's wait.  The gods help that boy if he ever had
to hurry his toilette.
    By the time he got Hokusai into the kitchen and spooning in tiny mouthfuls
of the strawberry-flavoured cereal he liked, he was himself hungry again, and
made some toast.  Hokusai watched him for a while, prattling about previous
epic shopping trips, before pausing and saying hesitantly, "Are you going to
get changed before we go?"
    Benten looked down at himself: he was wearing a pair of faded camouflage
trousers and jacket and a worn grey t-shirt that had originally been black.
They had been provided by Hokusai's friend Lom.  His boots had been Jackie's
and were very worn.  "Into what?  This is all I've got.  I thought the point of
this was to get me some clothes."
    "Well, yes, but you can't go into town like that!  They'll never let you
into any of the nice shops looking like that.  You couldn't possibly go into
Jean-Claude's in those clothes."
    Anger did a slow burn across Benten's mind and he forced himself to quell
it and relax.  "Little Fox," he said pleasantly, "I don't have any other
clothes.  Uh, uh," he held up a finger, "before you answer, just think that
through.  I don't have any other clothes."  He said the last sentence slowly
and carefully.
    "Ohh." Fox considered the matter.  "I know, let's look and see if any of
my..."
    "No, we've been over this."  Benten's intonation was precise and brittle.
"None of yours fit."
    Fox chewed his lip.  Benten sat patiently, not really caring.  It was a
ridiculous situation and he would have laughed if the boy weren't taking it so
seriously.  Normally, he would have agreed that he was much more concerned
about his appearance than the next person.  But not when the next person was
Fox.
    They finally compromised.  They would first stop at a more distant shopping
centre that Fox didn't usually patronise, where they'd get something basic and
wearable that he could change into then and there.  By the time they had that
sorted and Fox finished getting ready, it was nearly lunchtime.
    The world outside was not nearly so different as Benten had feared.  It
was, after all, an alternate world rather than a completely alien one.
Something that he would have to get used to, though, were its inhabitants.  In
a world where magic was real and where it affected the people, all sorts of
strange creatures existed.  Fox happily pointed out and told him all about
orcs, trolls, were-folk, as they drove along, and after a while Benten realised
that the boy was enjoying being the one who knew instead of the helpless
outsider.  For his part, he started to think it might not, after all, be as
strange or threatening as he had feared.  He found the shopping centre
reasuringly familiar, in the main, although many small details such as some of
the merchandise for sale, made him pause.  They went into a fairly ordinary
clothing shop and were out again in under fifteen minutes, Benten carrying a
large paper bag and Fox looking relieved.
    "What were you so worried about?" asked Benten.  "You were looking over
your shoulder the whole time we were in there."
    "I was hoping no-one would see me.  Come on, the loos are round the back
here, you can get changed."
    "I think the shop assistant thought you were mad.  But she also thought you
were cute, so overall, you probably got away with it."
    "Did she really?  Do you think so?"
    "Then again, I'm not sure she could see too well, with those contact
lenses."
    "Oh, don't be silly, those were her real eyes."
    "They were?"
    "Here we are.  I'll come in too, I'm sure I've smudged my lipstick."
    They were soon back in the car, Lom's old clothes in the boot in the paper
bag and Benten in a pair of white lycra ski pants, white ankle boots and roll-
neck jumper, also...  white.  He had insisted.
    As Fox drove, he found himself looking at pedestrians and other motorists,
looking particularly at elves.  He was stunned at... **TO BE FINISHED**