Waterwings.









                                                               
(i)



  It had begun with a typical evening in the Kotonoi household. 
The man of the house had been having a fret, because the woman
of the house was late.  He'd tried to contact Melissa on the
personal hand-held he'd given her, but had gotten the
out-of-range signal.  There weren't many places you could get
that tone from, but one of them was the bottom of the Pacific
Ocean.  During an earthquake, four hours ago now, a span of the
great, curving, spur of multi-level road between Izu-Shichi-To,
and Oedo central, had come down.  As disasters went it could
have been worse, so far only twelve reported fatalities, but
several vehicles had gone through the barriers on the edge of
the roadway, where it looped out over the bay.  There were a lot
more commuters than that trapped, however - and Melissa had
always had a perverse urge to use public transport, possibly
because it wound her lover up to the edge of hysteria, every
time she was late.  She was over at the Seven Isles complex,
helping set up a history project at one of the colleges.  This
concern was only relevant if you were in the sort of profession
that encountered disasters more frequently than the usual
salary-worker, and you saw danger lurking at every corner,
waiting for your hapless mekake to walk straight into it. 
Hasegawa was sure a `bus had gone over, and a section of roadway
had fallen onto the train tracks, hitting one of the shinkansen.
Right now Dekacho Hasegawa was so tense he could scream - which
was exactly why he was being so calm featured; the staff of
several hospitals had commented on just that fact.  His offer to
come back into work, to help direct the rescue operations, had
been - very politely - turned down.  This wasn't really a job
for the cyber-police, best to let the emergency services handle
it, no - they were really, really, sure he didn't need to come
in.  

  The monitor in the living room scrolled up the latest
bulletins on the situation, admissions to medical centres, and
descriptions of any, `Jane Doe's'.  His lap-top chattered away
with the reports of the outfits dealing with the after-effects
of the `quake.  And - yes.  The fire-chief would let him know
about the passengers on the bullet-train, they were just about
to cut them free now, if they were allowed to stop handling
in-coming calls from other departments.

  Hasegawa paced, and fidgeted.  What were those fools doing ? 
Everyone should have been accounted for by now - why else did
public transport automatically record the details of everyone's
identity cards as they got on ?  The police-chief mentally
kicked himself.  *Stupid Bastard!*  He tapped the link-up icon
on the lap-top,  "Get me Gogul on the line."  There was a brief
silence, whilst the connection was made.  Then a familiar voice
boomed out of the speakers, "This had fucking well better be
good.  I'm going over the monthly statistics down here."

  "This is Hasegawa, you shit-wit.  And, yes - it is important. 
I need you to get access to the State Transport System computer,
now."

  "What am I going to be looking for, you ass-hole?"

  "Passenger details.  Commuters travelling between... say 15.00
hours, and now.  And make it fucking snappy."

  "Any particular passenger?  Any particular short, female-type,
passenger - with poor taste in men?"

  "Just do it.  Hasegawa out."

  Gogul sighed, and his shoulders moved in a monumental shrug. 
"Sorry, Okio.  I'll just do a brief scan for Meri-chan's
details, to keep that dick-head happy, then I'll get this all 



                                                                
1.

straightened out for you.  Have you called your parents to say
you're okay?"

  "Yes, thank you Gogul.  They know what the end of the month is
like though.  It's very kind of 

you to stay behind and help me like this."

  "Ah, you know I do it because I'm after your body."

  Gogul made kissing noises in Okio's direction, he got huge
amusement from the way she blushed, and giggled.  *What a lovely
kid*.  He reached out a paw, and scooped her onto his lap, 
"I've got you now!", he growled.  Okio was almost helpless with
laughter - a lesser man might have been insulted by her lack of
concern, Gogul just blew a massive raspberry on the back of her
neck.

  "Careful!  I wouldn't want Sengoku to catch us!  You might
fight, and I don't want to be scraping him off of the walls he's
still got to take me out to dinner, you know?"  The department
mascot snuggled deeper into the comfort of Gabimaru's embrace -
he was the ultimate dream for the inner-child; the teddy-bear
that was bigger than you - and could hug back.  Gogul ran the
checks, as far as he could see Melissa had been on a train, just
behind the one that one that got a bit squashed, but she'd got
off at the next station - with hundreds of other passengers -
and was probably, (like them), now making her way home via an
alternative route.

  He sent the data to Hasegawa's personal l.t. with the added
note, `Stop worrying, you bastard.'  Then Gogul returned to the
task of making the stats do what they should - whether they
wanted to, or not.

  Hasegawa got Gogul's report, briefly he was relieved, but only
briefly.  Then a new anxiety kicked in: MUGGERS!  Street robbers
preyed on people forced through unfamiliar districts,
pick-pockets loved sudden crushes of people.  If she was in
trouble, Melissa might not get seen in a group.  He tried the
hand-held's number again, just to see if anyone answered.  Still
out of contact.  Juzo allowed himself a small whimper.  He
should just get his coat on, right now, and try to backtrack her
likely route from the station - he could ask the patrol vehicles
to keep an eye out for anyone of her description.  As he reached
for his l.t. the front door banged open,  "Good evening.  The
burglars have arrived, and we'd like to see your family jewels
please."

  "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!!!"

  Melissa screwed her eyes up, and mimed being pressed against
the wall by the force of the blast.  Wordlessly she walked over,
took the over-wrought man by the hand, and led him to the main
monitor.  She turned off the tele-casts, hospital admissions,
damage reports and travel news - in the ensuing silence Hasegawa
heard the faint chime of the, `message waiting', signal.  He
began to look stricken, she tapped the small, flashing, red icon
with one finger and walked away as it began play-back.  The
screen now showed exactly the station that Gogul had said she
got off at, and Melissa.  "Hello, hello, Juzo if you're there,
just pick up the damn call will you?"  A pause of a few
heartbeats.  "So - in the toilet, down at the station, or
calling round the hospitals.  When you replay this: I'm going up
to street level.  Now, I'll wait for twenty minutes out front,
to give you a chance to pick me up.  It's not a red-light
district so no-one else is going to try to.  And, NO, I can't
use my hand-held.  When the emergency brakes went on someone sat
on it!"  She held up the mangled remains of the small machine by
its aerial.  "Twenty minutes, Git-face."  Then the screen went
blank, Hasegawa checked the time the call was made.  Oops...

  A kettle rattled in the distance, tea was about to be boiled
along with his head, if he wasn't careful.  The message icon
`pinged' again, it was the fire-chief - did he want those
passenger details now?  Hasegawa showed willing, even though
they were redundant now, no deaths - oh good.  He signed off,
and almost instantly another incoming call arrived; Doctor Isu
had the dear boy's lady-love made it home yet?  On being assured
that she had, the elderly woman smiled benignly - so she could
stand down her Oedo-wide name search then?  Hasegawa nodded, he
was beginning to run out of things to say.  The doctor's face
faded from the screen.  The next call arrived, the desk-sergeant
on duty at Central - a roll call of people checked by the 



                                                                
2.

beat-officers followed.  Very little crime - considering the
chaos caused by the earth tremor.  

Maybe all the criminals had been on that shinkansen.  The
Dekacho's thanks were becoming 

very faint now, just how many people had he called?  Like the
knell of doom, a fourth call came on-line; Gogul's voice boomed
over the speakers,

  "Melissa-chan!  Are you home yet?"

  The vocal thundering was picked up from the callport in the
kitchen, Hasegawa cancelled his connection to that conversation-
eavesdroppers never heard good of themselves, particularly when
they'd made such a spectacular, fucking, mess of things.  He
heard laughter, and writhed with mortification, shit - he needed
a drink.  The light indicating a message awaiting came on again,
and he switched it to a different channel - oh.  He'd forgotten
he'd called the morgue as well.  

  By the time he got rid of the garrulous coroner, the noises in
the kitchen had ceased.  He turned to find Melissa staring at
him incredulously.

  "The MORGUE?"  She uncrossed her arms, and pushed herself up
from her slouch against the wall, "have you considered therapy?"
She disappeared into the cooking area - and returned with a
small samovar.  This situation called for serious tea drinking. 
Juzo decided on damage limitation.  He slid to his knees and
executed a deep, and obsequious, formal bow.  From a head down
position he could still hear Melissa's sigh of resignation, she
sat on the couch and prodded him with her big toe.  "Oi,
Git-face!  I know you were worried, you're always worried, but I
can't spend the rest of my life in this flat, you know."  He
raised his head just enough to look her in the face as he
replied,  "I don't expect you to, truly.  Besides - if there was
a typhoon you might be safer on the underground..."  His lips
quirked, *good sign - able to joke about your neuroses*.

  "All right then - you're forgiven.  Ah-ah...", she halted his
rise with an admonitionary finger.  "While you're down there..."
She dropped her feet into his lap, "it was a long walk from the
station."  

  "You walked ?"

  "Don't cringe - all the taxi's were taken."

  She grunted with pleasure as he slid his hands up her legs; he
found the fastenings of her stockings and rolled them down,
massaging the calve muscles as he went.  

  "I'll give you just six months to stop doing that."

  He bent forward, and kissed the insides of her knees, then sat
back and began the serious business of reflexology on his
machiuke mekake's feet.  He watched her toes wriggle with
pleasure, especially when he rubbed her sore ankles; she had
such flat feet, she really should wear better designed shoes,
they were so level that it put too much strain on the tendons
that ran down her shin.  But he wasn't going to nag, uh-uh, not
tonight - time enough for that tomorrow.  But he couldn't help
noticing the heavy folds of that skirt, and an underskirt?  It
was so cumbersome.  He was unable to resist the urge to dig his
own grave, with his tongue.

  "Lissy, look at this stuff!  Why can't you just wear a nice
light-weight spray-on?  Just imagine if you'd been on that
`bus..."

  "What `bus?"

  "The one that went into the bay."

  "Oh, yes.  Silly me.  That `bus."

  "Clothing like this just soaks up water.  You'd have real
trouble swimming to safety weighed down by this lot."

  "Ju-chan, my sweet, if I go into the bay it's going to be
academic what I wear.  I can't swim."

  Like the light on the road to Damascus, revelation hit her. 
This was not the right thing to say to her lover.  Her ear-drums
trembled as his voice reached ultra-sonic heights.

  "YOU CAN'T SWIM ?"



                                                                
3.

  "Calm dear.  Calm down now.  Calm thoughts."

No good; visions of death by drowning in heavy rain showers, now
danced through an oriental 

head.  It looked as though Hasegawa was hyperventilating.  Oh
Goddess, why did I have to say that?  Hasegawa was actually
trying to think of a sensible solution, there had to be a
practical way out of this problem.  Begin at the beginning...

  "Lissy, love.  Why have you never learnt to swim?"

  "Because I have all the buoyancy of a breeze block."

  No, don't be didactic.  "Has anyone tried to teach you
properly?"

  "We had lessons at school."

  *Ah, not good.  No one-to-one teaching then*.  "Would you like
to learn?"  Hasegawa noticed Melissa's eyes widen in alarm, "No
bindoro, I'm not going to offer to teach you myself," she
relaxed a little, "they run classes at the force's sports
centre."

  "Oh, great.  So I can look like a complete twat in front of
all your colleagues?"

  "Trust me.  There's a beginners class on Wednesday evenings,
it really is designed for complete novices.  Some of them have
never seen anything bigger than a bath before."  A whe- edling
tone had crept into his voice, "I could even buy you a swimming
costume."

  "Would it stop you worrying about me every time I take the
Seven Isles route?"

  "Might."

  "Okay then.  I'll give it a go - but just the once.  And if I
don't like it you never, ever, nag me about it again?"

 "Yes, honourable beloved."

  It's easy to be gracious when you've got your own way.  The
road to hell...





                                                              
(ii)



  It was a streamlined costume, scarlet, and p.v.c.  Bits of
Melissa were getting their first airing for... a while.  Juzo
had been so proud of his choice, he thought she suited the
skin-tight, red, wet-look, outfit - Melissa thought it made her
look like an over-ripe tomato.  She finished tying her hair back
in its long plait, winding the straggly end back into the main
section.  *Even more white now, Ju-chan what're you doing
hanging out with an old bag like me?*  No escaping from it. 
She'd said she'd give this swimming lesson a try - and Juzo had
been practically perky as he drove her to the sports centre. 
*Let's see what the instructor makes of negative buoyancy*.  She
splashed her feet in the trough that led from the changing
rooms, to the pool, *courage ma brave*, at least no-one was
laughing yet.  As it turned out, there were quite a few people
in the beginners group, and more than a handful were nearly as
bad as her when it came to large bodies of liquid not designed
to be drunk.  And the swim-area was beautifully warm.
Tentatively, she began to concede that, maybe, this hadn't been
intended as a subtle form of torture after all.  The pool really
was shallow enough at this end for her to stand with her head
above water, now all she had to do - apparently - was to learn
to trust it to support her.  Pairs formed to hold heads, as the
partner floated, and the instructor came around to offer advice-
and encouragement.  Next he had them gradually move their hands
away from their partner's head, so that they could hang
suspended, but be confident that help was at hand if needed.  It
worked fine for Melissa's team-member, the rookie seemed to be
getting the hang of this, no problem!  But, when the reverse
occurred, Melissa sank with a glub.  The instructor came over,
"Kotonoi-san, you're not really as relaxed as you could be, are
you?"

  "*blip*"

  "Never mind, you're doing really well to have come this far. 
Really, there's no rush, we don't expect you to be Olympic
standard in half an hour."



                                                                
4.

  *Then you haven't been talking to my Git-face, have you?*

  Thinking of whom...  Where was the bastard?  Melissa looked
about the pool area as the class began the delicate business of
learning to tread water.  The students' pool was at one end 

of the immense room  that also held the `proper' swimming area. 
It had to be the largest body 

of chlorinated water Melissa had ever seen; she'd peeked over
the dividing wall at one point and been horrified to realise
that she couldn't see the bottom.  Then someone had dived in! 
She had watched in mesmerised disbelief as the woman swam down,
and down, and down!  Lights came on the lower she sank,
illuminating her descent.  Melissa closed her eyes - the
instructor had come over - and guided her back to the group.

  "Don't people get the bends when they come back up?"

  "No, Kotonoi-san.  It isn't that deep, truly."

  But the image had remained, and was probably the reason she
wasn't able to relax now.  The water was so deep they needed
floodlights down there?  She shuddered, unknown to Juzo drowning
was one of her greatest fears, she'd been terrified since her
childhood - and two attempts at death by fluid ingestion hadn't
improved her world view.  

  As she dutifully trod water, eyes riveted on the instructor, a
familiar voice attracted her attention.  "How are you getting
on, honourable?"  Hasegawa crouched at the lip of the tiled
basin, and watched his lover struggling to stay afloat.  She was
making quite a meal of it - he'd have liked to talk to the
instructor about that.  Really!  She could make more of an
effort, unless she was just enjoying the extra attention that
playing helpless gave her.

  "Well, I haven't died yet.  I think you should get me an `L'
plate for the back of my cozzy, though."  After explaining what
an `L' plate had been, Melissa turned about cautiously, flapping
her hands to propel her in the right direction.  Her eyes
widened in suprise, "Ju-chan...  Those're very aerodynamic
briefs, aren't they?"  They were the skimpiest underpinnings
Melissa had ever seen the Dekacho wear... well - in public that
was.  This man obviously had a thing for slick looking fabrics,
Melissa mentally filed the information away, for future use.  "I
don't like the all-over style for sports-wear", he shrugged,
"and unless you're getting jealous I'll stick with these."    

  "It looks like you'll stick to them, pal!"

  He poked his tongue out at her, and stood.  More eyes than his
mistress' tracked his progress to the larger pool, with a
speculative interest.  As Hasegawa crouched to plunge into the
water, one officer began to bang his head up-and-down on a
pool-side table.  *Yes, nice to look at, my friend - but the
upkeep can be hellacious!*  

  Gogul sat in the cafeteria area, overlooking the whole floor;
he got a good view down at many a spectacular pair of tits from
this little eyrie - one of the simple pleasures of life that
kept a man sane.  Sipping his coffee contentedly, he played with
the gadget that lay in front of him on the table.  Here was a
piece of fun - if he just got the programming right he could
over-ride the fingerprint locks on small calibre side arms. 
Humming tunelessly between his teeth, he twitched a small
microdriver in the machines innards, this'd really get Sengoku
mad!  Might go down for a swim himself later, but right now he
needed to exercise his brains, and watch the pretty girlies go
by.  He glanced up, Meri-chan was sitting on the pool-side,
that's quite a shade of red she's wearing, she looked distinctly
grumpy as she wrung the excess moisture from her hair.  The
spade-like hand that was not engaged in its delicate task,
lifted and waved at her - she caught sight of him, (he was hard
to miss), and waved back.  Then she returned her gaze to the
pool, where Hasegawa was currently swimming lengths.

  Hawaiians believe that, if you lead a very good life, you get
to come back as a shark, and - watching Juzo swim - Melissa
could believe that the police-chief had built up some good karma
along the way with Pele's brother, God of the sea.  It was
naturally to her benefit to have a lover that could hold his
breath for that long, and she was truly grateful, but she still
couldn't 



                                                                
5.

shake her fear of the pool.

  The instructor had been very encouraging, and it was just
possible that Melissa would return the next week.  The little
sweetie had even said he'd bring her a pair of his children's
waterw- 

ings, if she really didn't feel confident enough to float
unaided.  Apparently they were a lovely

shade of green, and had miniature Godzillas printed on them. 
They'd go beautifully with that

resplendent, red, costume.  She could really be kakko ii. 
Melissa had readily agreed, it sounded like a splendid idea, *no
use, kawaii.  I have no haji*.  

  Melissa looked around, she couldn't see Hasegawa anywhere. 
Hmph!  Probably still playing `Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea',
in the ocean over there.  Idly she splashed her feet in the warm
water of the learners' pool, contemplating her toes.  Above her,
in the food hall, Gogul gave a small caw of delight.  It worked!
Maybe not for more than a few minutes at a time, but it worked!
Now all he had to do was find an unobtrusive way to test it;
maybe he could sneak down to the firing range later on tonight,
for a trial run.  With a bit more tinkering he could probably
get the small device to scramble finger-print recognition in
different ways, so that it temporarily dis-allowed the rightful
user's control.  He knew whose gun he was going to test that on!
The possibilities were limitless.  He could even use it to shoot
that bastard Hasegawa, when Lissa- chan wasn't around.  He
peered over the glass-brick wall, the ambulatory stop sign had
wandered over to the main pool, and was peering at the depths
nervously.  She rested one hand on the rail of the ladder that
led down into the water, and cautiously bent forward.  *No good
my little babushka, he's behind you!*

  Where was Juzo?  She was sure that she'd last seen his lithe
form performing stomach- churning feats of underwater
acrobatics, right about here.  No lights were on down there, so
he wasn't deep sea diving again.  *Goddess!  The back of my
neck's creeping!  Someone must be watching me!*

  Hasegawa bore down on his lover.  What a put-on display of
nervousness.  Well, now she was finished playing with the tutor,
he had a little instruction of his own.  His frame of mind
perfectly mingled the irritation of the expert who cannot
believe in another's incompetence - and an unfortunate attempt
at a joke.

  Gogul watched in bemusement as Hasegawa hefted Melissa into
the air.  *Watch it, fuck-face!  She can't...*

  Time slowed, and stretched.  Crawled forward like an arthritic
snail.  Melissa's howl of fear, the crack as she hit the water,
the slow surge as it closed over her head.  Gogul saw from his
vantage that the impact had stunned her, he was already rising
to his feet in fear.    

  Heads had turned at the screech.  Police training hammering
home the message that this was not a shrill of delight, but not
yet seeing the danger.

  Sinking.

  Brief seconds passing like poured molasses.  The spray of
small bubbles as air was forced from lungs.  The realisation
hitting two men simultaneously: one to dive into the pool, one
to stand frozen above.  

  Hasegawa sliced into the water shrieking.  "Fuuuuuuuck!" 

  Gogul screamed from the depths of his being. 
"Saaaaaraaaaaaahhhhh!"

  Hasegawa's cry echoed around the hall, Gogul's never made it
out of his head.  

  Lights came on, one by one.  *Pre... tty...*  Down, down.  The
weight on her chest was a dull ache, *so dark...*  Drifting. 
Vision pulsing black at the edges.  The need to breath, a fire
in the ribs.  A muffled booming far above.  *Wha...? 
DROWNING!!!* Something black angling towards her, clawing
frantically to reach it.  Barely enough coherence to think,
`help'; mind one, long, ululation of terror.

  Hasegawa reached for the first bit he could get hold of; that
lengthy skein of hair.  He could see the look of panic, the
desperately clutching hands.  Gripping her, turning her, holding
her so 



                                                                
6.

that she wasn't a danger to them both.  Nails drawing bloody
tracks down his arm.  Not noticing the pain.  He'd never swum so
fast in his life, they sped up to the surface like a guided
missile.  Great whooping screams echoed through Melissa's mind,
but she couldn't breath!  There was no room left for thought. 
Officer O-Kane had already had the presence of mind to move to
the

poolside to receive the wildly, thrashing figure that was being
passed up by the Dekacho.  She pulled the woman back from the
edge, trying to turn her so that she could vomit up the excess
water more easily.  The older woman was heaving, and struggling,
legs and arms waving wildly in all directions.

  "Slowly, slowly.  You're okay now.  Shhh."

  O-Kane smoothed the water-soaked hair back from Melissa's
face, making all the soothing noises she could.  Out of the
corner of her eye she could see the Dekacho just heaving himself
out of the pool and, as he straightened, O-Kane also saw one of
those frantic - jerking - legs shoot forward.  The foot
connected, with a painfully solid thud, right in the policeman's
crotch.  His eyes widened, and he toppled backwards into the
water, in rigid slow-motion.

  "Nice shot, beautiful!", O-Kane crooned.  "Just what he was
asking for!"  Her respect for the Chief's mistress had just
vaulted to a new, all time, high.  O-Kane was prejudiced: this
was the only use she had for men, target practice.  But as she
hugged the older woman, whilst keeping a check on her recovery,
she couldn't help but hear the horrified whispers...

  "Oh, Christ!  He'll kill her!"

  "I'm not going over there - I've got a young family..."

  "What happened?  Did you see?"

  "We can't just let..."

  "Rough bastard..."

  "Kill..."

  It dawned on O-Kane that she was the only thing that stood
between the head of a, notoriously psychotic, bunch of
criminals... *lie down with dogs - get up with fleas...* and the
woman who'd just booted him in the balls.  *Men don't deal well
with that kind of pain.  Fuck!  They don't deal well with
deflated pride either!  Oh, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!!!*  So, she
could either get her arse out of the way, and let a fellow
officer kill a civilian; or she could play the hero - and
possibly get herself killed, or seriously injured in the
attempt.  *Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!!!*

  Gogul had been hanging over the cafe wall, watching the fun...
*Hell!  Maybe I should jump in there, and rescue him.  The
skid-mark could drown, I suppose.  What's going to be more fun? 
Rescuing the cunt - and having a little leverage, or just
letting all my troubles just float away?*  Then the voices
started all around him, rumours of doom.  The assembled
officers, and guests, crowded about the wall - mingled horror,
and excitement, on their faces.

Gogol stilled, and considered.  He pressed some keys on the
little instrument he held.  He scanned the crowd `til he spotted
the first officer wearing a gun - illegal, but common, in the
gym areas.  Weaving unobtrusively from his seat, he reached the
man, and relieved him of his weapon.  Pressing the finger pad to
his new toy, he waited for the green light.  The slightest of
smiles touched his lips.  He aimed over the heads, to where the
fuckcunt was likely to reappear; no-one noticed.  Gogul was not
the focus of their attention.  *He lays one finger on her - he
dies.  I die too.  Fair exchange.*

  Breathing stilled, and the proverbial hush descended, as a
wet, black, head, broke the surface of the water.

  "We'll see some fun now..."

  Gogul's lips tightened.  O-Kane found herself eye-to-eye with
the dilemma, and still undeci- ded what to do.  Other officers
milled, equally torn.  Time crawled for a room full of people. 
Hasegawa pulled himself onto the side, shaking his head
slightly, swiping the loose strands of hair away from his eyes. 
O-Kane realised that the only sound she could hear was the
laboured 



                                                                
7.

wheezing of the woman she held in her arms.  She clutched
Melissa tighter, unconsciously turning the woman away from the
advancing figure.

  Hasegawa sank to his knees in front of the frozen tableau,
"Forgive me, Okusama.  I have committed an unpardonable offence.
Allow me to make any reparations that I can."

  He stayed in that position, head down.  "Officer O-Kane.  Is
there any need to call for medical assistance?"

  She glanced down at Melissa.  The woman looked up at her, she
was still half breathing, half crying.  The archivist shook her
head at O-Kane, mucus dripped from her face; O-Kane dug out a
tissue from her pocket, and gave it to the woman.  "Are you
sure?"  The gulping female nodded vigorously at her, "No, Sir. 
No emergency requirements here."

  "Then, if it is permitted, can you escort Kotonoi-sama to the
changing rooms - and help her to change?  I will meet you both
outside the locker area, and escort my honourable consort home."

  "S'that okay?"  The older female nodded, and blew her nose,
noisily.  Unpleasant, but under- standable in the situation. 
"We will meet you there, then, Sir."  O-Kane aided the wobbling
Melissa to get to her feet.

  "Thank you, officer O-Kane."

  The crowd of police parted, as O-Kane escorted her charge
towards the female changing- rooms.  Hasegawa rose, and moved
quietly in the opposite direction, towards the, `men-only', door.

  Officer Yamanaka patted his holster.  Whew!  His gun was still
there!  He could have sworn for a minute there...  The door out
of the cafe still swung, backwards and forwards.





                                                             
(iii)



  Hasegawa felt numb.  The full implications of this accident
had hit him, several times now, and he was felling punch-drunk. 
*I could have killed you...*  He'd seen the way people had
looked at him, as he emerged from the pool... *They thought I
would kill you...* W&E were going to have a field-day.  All that
free flowing guilt, from so many people!  He'd also seen the
looks he got on his way to get changed, the wary suspicion, the
lack of trust.  The caution.  *How did I ever come to be
regarded this way?  When did it happen?  How did my colleagues
get scared of me, instead of just the scum?  I'm going to be
sick...*

  Miserably he pulled his clothes from the locker, and began to
get dressed.  The tightness across his abdomen only got worse. 
The cold water ran down under his collar, adding to his
discomfort.  But that was all right - he deserved it.  "To
serve, and protect" - uh!  *Stupid, fucking, brainless,
kyokyaku!* He stuffed his swimming gear into the sports bag, and
turned towards the exit.  Hanging about here all night wasn't
going to solve anything.  Nothing was going to erase tonight's
debacle.  He straightened his shoulders, and left.





                                                              
(iv)



  Emerging from the room, the Dekacho looked for the tall frame
of O-Kane.  He didn't see her, but then the corridor was
deserted - except for two unmistakable figures.  Gogul nestled
Melissa in his huge arms.  Hasegawa could only see the top of
his colourful crest of hair, as his head was inclined down to
the smaller frame of Juzo's lover.  He was murmuring to her, in
a voice so quiet that it was inaudible, even from this close. 
Hasegawa allowed himself a rueful grin.  No-one would believe
Gogul capable of such volume control, well not unless they
worked with him.  Melissa had her face pressed to the awesome
chest, and her arms loosely 



                                                                
8.

linked about `Maru's waist - or as far as she could reach.

  The shutting of the automatic door behind him, caused Gogul to
look up, and stare in Hasegawa's direction.  The police-chief
was no longer amazed at how a man, with a medically enhanced
visor, could still scowl so belligerently.  Or the way those
non-functional eyes could still bore into someone.  Melissa
looked up at her friend - then towards Hasegawa, the temperature
in the corridor dropped by several degrees.  The Kacho resisted
the urge to cringe, in front of one of his kido dogs.

  "If you are ready, honourable Kotonoi-sama, I will escort you
home."  His eyes took in the puffy, tear-stained face, "or if
you prefer another to do the same, I will endeavour to have all
in readiness, awaiting your arrival."

  "Lissy-chan, what'cha wanna do?"  Hasegawa flinched - it
disturbed him to hear such affect- ionate endearments pass
between these two.  Were you lovers?  Were you?  Were you?  The
large bruiser was still glowering at him, whilst his hands
gently rubbed Melissa's back.  "You don't need to go back to the
flat.  Y'know you c'n always stay with me, any day, no time
limits."    "If Kotonoi-sama wishes, I can always find somewhere
else to stay.  The fault was mine.  The penalty is mine." 

  The woman sighed down her nose.  She looked up at her towering
protector, and smiled.

  "No, `Maru-chan.  It's all right."  Her voice was still rough,
and husky.  She squeezed Maru's bum familiarly, "I'll be okay
from here on in.  I'm sure that this... gentleman... will see me
home, in perfect safety."  Her voice was icily polite when she
referred to him.  Uh-oh.  *Please... Just shout at me, okay?* 

  "Only if you're really, really, sure."

  "I am, Sweety-pie."

  "Really, really, really?"

  She wrinkled her nose at `Maru, bunny-fashion.  "Really,
really, really."  She stepped back from the shelter of his
embrace.

  "Keep a channel open, okay?  Then if that dick-splash tries
anything funny, I c'n be there at a moment's notice.  Y' hear
me?"

  "Yes, darling.  Don't fret.  I'm old enough, and ugly enough,
to take care of myself, ne?"

  "Hmmm..."

  Gogul levelled one, last, threatening look at Hasegawa. 
Melissa turned towards him.

  "I am ready to go now, Hasegawa-san.  Would you do me the
kindness to escort me home?"

Sub-zero.  Oh, shit. 

  "As the noble lady wishes."  

She preceded him down the corridor, towards the way out - the
police chief trailing in her wake.  Gogul turned his head
slowly, to watch them go.





                                                               
(v)



  Once in the car, Hasegawa tried to strike a balance between
the formal politeness he felt necessary for the situation, and a
need to wring some semblance of normal conversation from his
lover.  She wasn't yelling at him, and she wasn't being rude to
him.  There was nothing to push against, nothing to relieve the
pressure of guilt, nothing he could reasonably react to.  Just
that frigid calm; as if she were talking to an acquaintance, and
not a particularly close one at that.  He'd had to say it,
"Lissy, love.  I really am so, so, sorry.  Please, if I'd
known...  It was an accident!  Don't be like this."

  "I am aware it was an accident, Hasegawa-san.  That is why I
am riding home with you."

  "God!  I was so stupid!  Look... please... do you accept my
apology?"



                                                              9.

  "As it was an accident, Hasegawa-sama, there is nothing to
apologise for, is there?"  Hasegawa clenched his teeth, his eyes
fought to tear up, but that wouldn't be safe - not while he was
driving.  He concentrated on the road.

  The chill remained, even when they got home, to their own
parking bay.  Melissa sat in the passenger seat, until Juzo
parked, and formally came around to her side of the car, to help
her out.  Secretly she was relieved, as her legs were still weak
and rubbery; but there was absolutely no way she was going to
let on.  *Let him suffer*.

  It wasn't true, Melissa thought, that her life had flashed
past her eyes, there had really been time only for the edited
high-lights.  But she'd had a large scare: and she still had
that, `weak as a kitten', feeling that near-death brings on, her
lungs were still painful from chlorine, and crying.  *Miserable
cunt!  Suffer!*

  Her lover reached in, his face kept carefully neutral, but his
eyes hopeful.  No way!  Not yet, you piece of shit!  She
steadied herself on the outstretched arm, "thank you,
Hasegawa-san."  She waited, politely, whilst he locked up the
vehicle, and then turned and walked away.  He followed her to
the lift, eyes down-cast.  *Keep yourself pulled in.  Body
language small.  I am inoffensive, harmless*.  They travelled up
to their floor in silence.  No companionable hand in his, no
friendly arm about his waist.  It amazed him how much he'd come
to rely on these small gestures of affection, for comfort.  How
much it upset him, when they were missing.  *Go on!  Please
fight me!*  She didn't even look at him, her eyes were riveted
on the lift door.  

  He wanted to ask her, `just how long are you going to keep
this up?', but that wouldn't be a good move, just yet.  Not when
he was aching for forgiveness.  Besides, he might not like the
answer.

  Once indoors he offered to make supper, "no - thank you.  I'm
not hungry."  How about some tea?  "Yes, please.  Thank you,
Hasegawa-san."  She sat in a lone chair, and her lover felt too
intimidated to sit next to her on the arm-rest.  Juzo sorted the
laundry, and brought Melissa a towel for her hair.  Would she
like his assistance?  "No, thank you.  But it was very kind of
the Dekacho-san to offer.  He dried himself off in the bathroom,
and re-arranged some toiletries for lack of anything better to
do.  He couldn't face going back into the living room just yet.

  Melissa turned the entertainment channel on, she knew exactly
what buttons to push with Juzo, here came another one.  Hasegawa
heard her call Gabimaru, he sat on the rim of the bath, and
listened.  Yes, she had gotten home safely.  No, she was sure
she'd be okay.  It was lovely of her little brother to offer,
but he didn't need to come around to check.  She'd call him
again in the morning.  Juzo moved into the bedroom, and turned
the under-blanket heating on, manually. It occurred to him that
he might not be welcome, in bed, tonight.  Miserably, he pulled
a spare quilt from the linen cupboard.  But what if Melissa took
that as an insult?  He held the fabric against him, mind
whirling.  As a compromise, he hid the rolled up quilt, in a
hallway cupboard, just in case.  He returned to the bedroom, and
changed into his sleep wear,  pulling an old pair of track
bottoms on.

  "Will you be long, Hasegawa-san?  I would like to change my
clothes, please."

  Juzo shot out, "my apologies noble lady".  He bowed deeply,
and made his escape to the kitchen.  He stared out of the
window, into the night - he could hear Melissa moving about,
from room to room.  Finally he could see her settle back in the
chair.  He felt the urge to move again. 

  After wandering fitfully about the flat, like a caged animal,
he finally settled, hunched up next to Melissa's feet. She
decorously moved her legs, giving him extra room to be
remorseful in.  They both stared at the entertainment screen,
for a couple of hours, neither really seeing the parade of
programs.  Finally Melissa stood up, "I am going to bed now,
Hasegawa-san.  Good- night."  She moved off into the bedroom. 
Hasegawa considered his options: he could follow her, and try to
be very nice - then again, he remembered that subtle leg
movement, from earlier.  



                                                               
10.

Probably best not to push his luck too far; he retrieved the
comforter from the hallway, and curled up on the couch.  After
all, just how long could she keep this up?







                                                             
(vi)



  By the second day Hasegawa had stopped twitching, and started
to shake.  Every now and again he began to feel annoyed at the
constant, silent, opprobrium; then he would pull himself up
short - he'd really worked at being this thoroughly disliked. 
It was all his fault.  Still - the feeling of resentment was
still there.  After all, just what could he say?  `Talk to me?' 
She was, after a fashion.  `Don't shout at me?'  She wasn't. 
`Fight me?'  Why would she want to make him feel better, by
allowing him to get it off his chest?  He grunted - and rubbed
at his face.  It was starting to effect his work; he'd been
snapping at Okio more often than usual, even his boss had
commented that he looked a bit... tense.  He just wanted to
scream, even working out at the dojo hadn't loosened the
screwed-tight feeling in his chest.  And he was still sleeping
on the couch.  The urge to go in and kiss - or screw - it better
was there; but what if she said no?  Or worse - just lay there
and let him, and then when he'd finished...?  How could he say,
`do you still love me?', she might just say, `No', or, `I never
did'.  And, just how had he let himself become so dependant on
her approval?  If this was love - you could take it and shove it
somewhere the sun never fucking shone.  But he did have a
partial solution - didn't he?  A way to give himself tacit
forgiveness, by infliction of pain.  Better than the gym, and no
need to rely on that bitch for it, either.  And it wasn't Tomi
this time, even he wouldn't be rough enough; especially as
Hasegawa was a regular client.  You didn't really want to
seriously damage your trade.  And it would have felt like an
imposition to go to him, in this state.  Maybe he had been using
Tomi's services too long - it was becoming like another
relationship.  Just what he needed, like a new hole in his head! 

  He stood up from the remains of his supper, the supper that
had been waiting for him when he got in from work, but hadn't
come with any company.  He pushed the chair back under the
table, and walked through the living-room.  Melissa sat reading,
she didn't look up.  He went into the bedroom to get changed,
and dig out his club card.  It was in the bureau, he fingered
the wafer of clear resin, he could just see the circuitry and
the club's logo - `The Gentle Lamb'.

  He emerged back into the deep freeze.  "May I go out for a
while, noble lady?"

  Melissa looked up, a faint crease of confusion flitting across
her face.  "Yes, Hasegawa-san.  Of course you may."

  "Is there anything you desire before I leave?"

  "No, Hasegawa-san.  Thank you for asking."

  He bowed deeply, and turned to go.

  Hasegawa was not the only person growing bored with this game;
Melissa had rapidly come to the conclusion that - whilst a meek
Hasegawa could be amusing, but ultimately worrying - a timid
Hasegawa was virtually unendurable.  And the look on his face
just now...  The thought occurred to Archivist Kotonoi that
maybe, this time, the joke had gone too far, for too long.

  "Juzo...", but the front door had already shut.





                                                            
(vii)



  Hasegawa took a taxi to the club.  The usual doorman took his
card, and swiped it through the credit check.  He picked out an
outfit from the selection available, and walked to the changing 



                                                               
11.

booths.  The mask, and gauntlets covered the whole of his head,
and most of his lower arms, and ensured that any top would know
not to damage those areas.  That these bits would be on show,
when he returned to work.  Hasegawa left the gag flap open, for
now.  He left the booth, and walked across the bare boards, to
the door that led into the club proper.  The red light lit up
his naked flesh; Juzo fastened his safe-sign tag to the wrist of
one gauntlet, and knocked.  A stern face looked out at him,
"Yes."

  "I beg to be let in, Master."

  "On your knees."

  Hasegawa sank down, he bowed over until his forehead touched
the floor.  There were always formalities to be observed.

  "And why are you here?"

  "I've been bad."

  "How bad?"

  "Unforgivably so."

  "And what do you deserve?"

  "Punishment."

  "Come in."

  He stood, and fastened the flap shut.  The door opened,
releasing a gust of hot, sweat-laden, air.  Without hesitation
he entered.





                                                           
(viii)



  On the ride back up in the elevator, Hasegawa knew he'd
over-done things this time.  He hadn't dare take a taxi home,
the smell of other men on him had been too strong.  He gagged at
a new stab of pain.  *Hold on...  Hold on...*  

  They'd tried to delay his leaving the club, fuck!  That must
be a first for him!  The Master who'd taken up his chain had
been a voyeur; content to let the other men do the damage.  He'd
lost count of the number that had shafted him, or fisted him. 
Or beaten him.  His tag had said he was due, `severe
discipline', he hadn't been able to activate the safe sign light
with his tongue, but the Master was a good one, and had noticed
that his distress level had risen to a level where checks needed
to be made.  When they'd released the gag, he'd been able to
call a halt.  He received a stern lecture on his choice of
safety alarm, didn't he know that he was supposed to be able to
alert people, whatever the situation?  He'd have laughed if he'd
been able.  If it hadn't hurt so much.

  Two Slaves had carried him to the recovery room, where the
resident medic had given him a mild pain-killer, and a thorough
check-up.  He advised Hasegawa to seek hospital advice - his
bruising was heavy, and widespread.  Normal procedure would have
been R.Ice.  Relieved of the worst of the pain, he'd reverted to
his non-slave persona.  There was no way he was going to visit a
hospital in this state!  He'd risen as well as he was able and,
leaning on the wall for support, had made his way back to the
cubicles.  Putting on his clothes was excruciating, every time
he bent over his vision pulsed black, and he felt himself
desiring the void, wanting to tip into the comfort of
unconsciousness.  But he wasn't going to give himself the
pleasure.

  It was at the door that they'd tried to stop him, tried to
insist that he follow the medic's advice, let them call an
ambulance for him.  The clinic on retainer to the club was
discreet.  *Probably worried about their fucking insurance!* 
He'd pushed, and shoved his way past them, bouncing one of the
Masters off of the wall.  As if he'd really let the game
continue outside the bounds of the games room.  He snarled
softly under his breath... *soon be home!  Soon be home!*  The
numbers on the elevator read-out limped higher.

            

                                                               
12.

  He was so lucky not to have met anyone on the way up.  The
smell...  *Oh., Christ - I'm dirty!*  He could feel the blood
gluing his clothes to his body, *just how are you going to get
them off?  Fuck off!  How should I know?*  The cold air outside
the club had helped, for a while.  People had stared - of
course- usually when someone staggered past you, bleeding and
odorous, they had got into that state by drinking.  He hadn't
helped matters by pausing to lean against a wall, and vomit
noisily.  Shit!  He should have taken the club's advice.  But
he'd walked too far to return, and his pride still hurt worse
than his body... *and there's no saying they'll let me back in,
now...*

  But here he was, nearly home.  *Home!  What a fucking joke!* 
Hasegawa smiled, a death's head grin.  *I wonder what that
frozen bitch will say now?*  But no, Melissa'd probably gone to
bed.  He hoped she had, anyway - just to give him time to get
rid of all this self-pity, and clean up the mess he'd made of
himself.  Swaying from side to side, he weaved down the corridor
to his front door.  Reaching a cautious way down into his
pocket, he retrieved his key card.  *Shit!  It feels like my
shoulder's been popped!*  Slowly he let himself in, as quietly
as he could - he removed his shoes, and coat.  The lights were
still on in the main rooms, but then Melissa often did that,
when she expected him to be in late, but not before she expected
to be asleep.  *Quiet as you can, now* - he admonished himself -
*don't let her see you in this state!*  As he crossed the living
areas he called out softly for the lights to turn out.  In the
darkness between the living room light extinguishing, and the
bathroom lights coming up, he stumbled and fell against the door
jamb.  The pain made him retch noisily, and he fell into the
bathing area, his hand clasped over his mouth.

  Melissa heard a vague crash, and she looked up from her lap
top.  She was paging medical details, and ordering some supplies
from the all-hours, free delivery, chemist - three blocks over. 
The call had come in nearly an hour ago: a representative from
somewhere called, `the Gentle Lamb', had called - the club's
logo had been displayed in the bottom left of the screen.  By
tapping on the icon, she'd been able to call up all the details-
and promotional material - whilst the man talked.  It didn't
take a genius to work out what the specialities were, oh
Goddess!  Suddenly Melissa felt very weary, why Git-face?  No,
don't answer that.  I know why, don't I?  The representative had
been most concerned, no-one had left the club this badly injured
before, and gone straight home.  Of course they'd made him sign
a waiver, but they weren't sure he'd remember that.  He seemed
to be having blank spells.  As a caring, conscientious,
establishment, it had been their duty to call up his home
details and make sure that there would be help on hand when he
arrived.  Especially as he'd seemed set on walking, he could
have gone in one of the club's courtesy cars - but he didn't
seem inclined to take advice.  Maybe he wasn't aware of their
full range of services?  After all, he wasn't the most regular
of customers.  Was the honourable lady sure she could take care
of matters from here?  If not - they could provide a call-out
service to help, for a minimal charge.  Quite apart from the
under-lying condescension in the man's voice, Melissa was SURE
Git-face wouldn't want anyone else around when he got back. 
Also her occidental roots were showing, so much of the
conversation was carried on in eye movements, and subtle body
gestures, that she felt like most of it was taking place in the
latest, bad, Brazilian, soap-opera.  She had asked if this call
wasn't a breach of the establishment's confidentiality code the
man had become more genuinely polite - and assured her that if
the Dekacho wished to cancel his membership, they would quite
understand.  They would also undertake a full refund, to be
credited to her bank account.  Melissa didn't correct their
assumption, they were probably already on tenter-hooks about
their insurance, bad publicity, and possible police action.  As
quickly as possible she got rid of the man, giving him no
assurances as to any further action, that might result although,
Git-face having assaulted several members of staff did change
the scenario's complexion slightly.

  And whilst she waited for the medicine, the disease had
arrived.



                                                               
13.

  Hasegawa tripped again, falling over one of the bathrooms
wooden stools, on the way to the wash baskets.  Panting, he lay
on his side, on the floor.  He didn't hear any noise from the
other room, yet.  Well, he was hearing nothing much, except for
the pounding in his ears.  Painfully, he began to sit up,
pausing every so often to catch his breath.  Bile stung the back
of his throat, and made his eyes water.  Carefully he began to
peel off his sodden clothes: the smell hit him in waves, and the
heavy dampness made his stomach turn over.  With unreasoning
fear he noticed the smears of blood on the tiled walls, and the
heavier patch decorating the floor... *Nooooo, Mummy!  I'm not a
dirty little boy!  Nooo!*  As he jerked backwards with shock, he
fetched up against the bath sharply, vomit sprayed from his
mouth in a gush, his half-raised hands only splashing it back
against his clothes, and hair.  Just then the door banged open,
and Melissa stood staring directly at him!  He held his hands
out to her, helplessly.  "Muh, muh, muh, Meh*"  *NOOOOOOO!!!* 
His eyes rounded with horror, what was wrong with his mouth? 
Melissa advanced on him, "and just what kind of emotional
blackmail do you call this?!"

  "Buh, buh, buh, bi*"  Merciful blackness overtook him, and
Juzo slid sideways to rest in a wet heap against the sink.

  The doorcall chimed, Melissa ran out to let the delivery girl
in the main entrance, then she dashed back to her charge. 
Throwing some towels over him, and the duvet he'd been using in
the living-room she rolled him into a cocoon of warmth.  The
tiles would leach all the heat out of his body, otherwise.
Sweating she raced about the apartment, dimming lights and
wiping off tell-tale stains where-ever possible, so that by the
time the chemist's daughter got to the flat's front door, little
evidence remained of why she needed the goods.

  Having signed for the delivery, Melissa ran back to the
bedroom.  Rummaging at the back of a finger-print locked drawer,
she extracted a small packet of a strength enhancer.  It wasn't
illegal to have it in your possession, but neither was there a
general use for it.  She would rather Git-face never found out
she had it.  Slapping on a patch, she cursed Juzo for the upset
gut she'd have for the next couple of days, and prayed that she
wouldn't gouge any joints out of place, when she lifted him.

  Once she had the leggy, limb-ridden, bastard safely onto the
bed, Melissa set about ensuring that he would recover reasonably
quickly from his injuries.  A large, and expensive, amount of
nano-technology went into his system, it was sheer good fortune
that the local pharmacy was as good as it was.  And money of
that kind ensured less questions were asked, than could have
been.  Surveying the wreckage, Melissa curled her upper lip,
*pungent Juzo... real fragrant!*  She hauled herself into the
bathroom, and armed herself with the necessary for a full-scale
cleansing operation.  *Do I only do this because my guilt is
greater than yours?  Oh, Juzo - just when I think things are
getting better, you show me new weaknesses.  Don't beloved! 
Don't you know I can't be trusted?*





                                                               
(ix)



  Hasegawa roused to the sound of tapping keys.  For a moment
the events of the previous day escaped him, and he couldn't
understand why it hurt so much to move.  Then it all came flood-

ing back.  He cringed in mortification; the clicking stopped,
and soft fingers stroked his face.

  "Are you awake, beautiful?"  He forced his eyes open, oh well,
at least the thaw seemed to have set in.  "Sugar-plum?"

  "`Lissy.  So you're talking to me again, then?"

  "Yup.  And, if there is a next time, you really don't have to
do this to get my attention.  A simple, `Oi, you with the
squint', should be enough."

  "Oh, really, Ms Koha?"

                                                               
14.

  "Yes, really and truly."  She sighed deeply, "Ju-chan, would
you rather I screamed and shouted?  I thought you'd always hated
that, when you were growing up?"

  "I did, but it's a fuck sight better than the cold shoulder."

  "Men!  I'll just never understand you!"  

  Hasegawa tried to rise, "I'd better tell work - uh!"  He fell
back, stunned with discomfort, and drugs.

  "No point.  I've already called in for you, and told them that
I kindly brought back a nasty gaijin bug, for you to share, from
my latest seminar abroad.  Okio said she'd take care of things. 
You really ought to think about getting her a pay-rise."

  "What will your work think of you not turning up today?"

  "Don't change the subject, anyway I can do all I need of this
project from home.  Now, we were discussing Miss Junuchi."

  Hasegawa managed a weak smile, "I know - she's a treasure." 
He rested back against the pillows, one hand plucked at the
dress, where it fell over her thighs.  "So, you uh... don't
mind.. the mess," she shook her head, "do you want to know..?"

  "Do you want me to know?"

  "Not right now."

  "Then I don't need to know now, do I?"  She bent over and
kissed him on the lips, lightly - like a caress of breath,
rather then a press of flesh.

  "That's a bit that isn't bruised, you can do that harder you
know."

  The terrible, spongy, texture of his bruised flesh, caused her
to draw back - nervous of hurting him any further.  But, dammit,
he presented his mouth to her in such an appealing way.  Moist
lips parted, waiting.  

  So she did.   





 















































                                                               
15.