Entry tags:

weiss kreuz

The Road Towards Kamakura, part I (Weiss Kreuz, Nagi/Mamoru)
Title: The Road Towards Kamakura
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz
Pairings: Nagi/Mamoru, Crawford/Schuldig, Mamoru/OFC, Nagi/OFC
Rating: R
Summary: In exile in a distant and unimportant post for his family's crimes, Mamoru builds himself a new life.
Word Count: 61000 words.
Author's Note: Thank you so much to toscas_kiss for beta-reading, and to puddingcat, for her wonderful illustrations! This is a sequel to Sailing to Hirugashima, a science-fiction AU in a space-opera setting. Like that story, it takes its title from place names important to the founding of the Kamakura shogunate.
Sections: I; II; III; IV; V; VI; VII









The Tsubame Maru's sirens sounded again. Mamoru sat on the edge of his bed, wondering what the noise meant this time. Naoe had inquired of the bridge before, to be told they signified assemblies, specific shifts necessary for approaching dock and once, sullenly, that they signified matters of interest to the damn crew and to no one else. Naoe's patience had worn thin by then, and Mamoru was glad the crewman was safely anonymous. The last four days had worn more heavily on them both than the whole long journey before, and he was glad they were finally over. The sirens rang again.

"Two hours to dock," a voice said over the communications system.

"We'll have headaches if they keep that noise up," Mamoru said.

Naoe didn't so much as look at him. Mamoru gave up trying to lighten the mood and lay down, closing his eyes. Almost all his belongings used during the journey were packed, there was nothing more to do other than try and be rested enough to meet whoever would come to greet him.

"Wake me in an hour and a half," he said.

"Take the full two hours," Naoe said. "It takes time to dock, you'll have plenty of time to get ready."

Mamoru peered at him. Naoe had been on ships before and was more knowledgeable than he, although he said little about his previous assignments.

"All right," he said. "What about you? Are you going to rest?"

"I probably should," Naoe said. "Though this might seem the perfect time to try another assassination attempt. I was restrained before, I won't hold back a second time."

Mamoru raised himself up on one elbow. "Do you think it's likely?" he asked.

Naoe strode over and pushed him back down, lightly. "No," he said very quietly. "That was just for the listeners. Rest. You'll need it, you haven't been sleeping well."

Mamoru looked up at his slim, black-clad form, thinking how it must look for the cameras, Naoe pushing him, standing over him unsmilingly. He closed his eyes obediently, and didn't smile at the small deception.

It seemed as if no time had passed when Naoe shook his arm. Mamoru rubbed at his eyes and sat up.

"We're coming in to dock," Naoe said. "Shower and change. It'll be at least another hour before they come for us."

Mamoru nodded and staggered to the tiny bathroom. He could have slept for another ten hours, he thought. Anything to ease the worry that ate at him now that he was almost there, his exile suddenly huge and monstrous in his mind. Naoe had assured him there were no cameras in the shower, one place at least where he didn't have to school his face to careful blankness. He laid his head against the wall wearily as the thin stream of water, never quite hot enough, ran over his shoulders. Naoe would think this was weak, he thought at last, and finished as quickly as he could. Finally he emerged to pull on the uniform Naoe had ready for him.

"Go ahead, I'm fine," Mamoru said, combing his damp hair into order.

Naoe took his turn in the bathroom, spending less than half the time Mamoru had. As he packed their last belongings and looked about to make sure nothing was forgotten, Mamoru frowned in sudden thought.

"Do you only have your uniforms to wear?" he said. He'd never seen Naoe in anything else.

"What else would I need?" Naoe said, as if it had never occurred to him.

It was difficult to know if he was being serious or not. Mamoru took some comfort in the fact that if he couldn't easily tell, others would find it even more difficult. They had not appeared to be friends on the voyage, he was certain. He sat on his bed again, waiting. Naoe sat as well, silent and watchful. The time stretched out, almost unbearably, until there was at last a knock at the door. Naoe answered it, showing in a steward.

"Please come with me, Ambassador Takatori," the woman said. "We have safely docked at the station. You and your staff may now disembark. If you follow me to the bridge, Captain Fjalarsson will see to anything you need."

She was commendably polite and apparently unafraid, Mamoru thought, given that the entirety of his staff on board was standing behind her, and known to all the crew as an abomination and a dealer of death.

"Your baggage will be brought immediately," the woman said and bowed.

Mamoru followed her out the door, Naoe close behind. Other crewmembers outside bowed deeply, and scurried in to collect the bags. As they walked along, every crewmember encountered bowed, not raising their heads until Mamoru was past. The courtesy was so marked a change from the start of the voyage that Mamoru felt it was itself a species of discourtesy, but it was nothing, he decided, he could legitimately complain of. He and Naoe had – belatedly – demanded the deference that was theirs by right, he shouldn't be unsettled to receive it. He kept his gaze straight ahead and steady until the woman had led them to the bridge, for the captain to take over, where she bowed deeply once more and left.

"Ambassador Takatori. I'm sorry to lose your company so soon, it has been a great pleasure to have you aboard my ship," Fjalarsson said, his tone perfectly polite.

"The journey was very comfortable," Mamoru said. Fjalarsson managed a small smile, and Mamoru looked as harmless as he could. The captain had lost the barbed tones his voice had had at the journey's start, his fear for his ship and crew all too evident. Mamoru didn't pretend to himself that he was the source of the fear – an ambassador he might be, but surely the most minor, and one meant to be forgotten, his mission an exile disguised as an appointment. It was Naoe who was the threat, who held the political power. Mamoru regretted humiliating the man, regretted following Naoe's advice to remind Fjalarsson and all his crew of their relative positions in the empire, but knew there was nothing he could now do to lessen the sting. Following Naoe's advice was necessary, both to show the worlds that Mamoru was obedient to his jailer's demands, and to ease relations between Naoe and himself. He was the one who had to live with Naoe's presence, not Fjalarsson, and he wanted friendship, not resentment.

"Well, let's see what the Alliance demand from us for daring to visit one of their worlds this time," Fjalarsson said gesturing towards the door.

Mamoru matched the more casual tone, glad the captain seemed eager to position them both as imperial subjects against the foreign and often incomprehensible Alliance bureaucracy. "They know I'm coming of course," he said. "Surely they can't make too much trouble for us?'

"They'll check our papers time and again," Fjalarsson said, "In case the information changes from moment to moment. I doubt they'll cause you too much inconvenience past demanding your name ten times over and complaining they find it difficult to spell in their languages. It depends how anti-Imperial their people are. We once had one Alliance bastard –" he paused, looking sidelong at Mamoru. "Your pardon for my rough speech, Ambassador," he said.

"Please, go on," Mamoru said quickly.

" – he sent inspectors onto the ship, claiming their sensors had picked up contaminants, and confiscated all our rice. We had to buy food at short notice – there was nothing wrong with that rice, he just wanted to force us to eat their foreign muck all the way home."

"This was on your more regular trade route?" Naoe said.

"Yes," Fjalarsson said shortly. "They like the trade and our goods but they can't pass up a chance to show they think they're superior to us," he said to Mamoru, some of his old bite coming back to his voice.

"How unfortunate and narrow-minded of them," Mamoru said, hoping Naoe would not contribute further to the conversation. Naoe stayed silent, and within another minute, they were standing in the airlock. None of them spoke as it cycled.

Mamoru wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but the sight of a nearly empty dock was a disappointment. He stepped out and looked to left and right. This was it. He was outside the empire and could never return. The metal plates under his feet seemed insubstantial for a moment, then he pulled himself together enough to ask Fjalarsson to repeat what he had just said.

"This way, Ambassador," Fjalarsson said, tilting his head to indicate they should move to the right. "That's where it says our papers will be checked." He gestured at a screen opposite the ship's airlock.

Mamoru turned and walked in the indicated direction without comment. He was illiterate, he realized with a shock. It was an unsettling feeling; he could not truly remember a time when he could not read. He'd never learnt a foreign language, and had forced only a couple of terms for greetings into his head during the voyage. Who, he thought, knew if they were even in the correct language? The Alliance used many different ones, and he only had Naoe's word that he had phonetically learnt phrases for the most common one spoken. Be calm, he told himself. Why would Nagi lie?

"You can speak their language?" he said, as more people began to be seen.

"Enough to get by," Fjalarsson said. "Maybe I should handle this for you, Ambassador Takatori?" he said, sounding just a little sympathetic, as if he knew what it was like to be young and so far from all that was known.

"Lt Naoe speaks some of the language," Mamoru said.

"Perhaps it would be better if we didn't reveal that to them yet," Naoe said quietly as a noisy group of men passed.

"It might be easier if I spoke to them," Fjalarsson said. He sighed. "Well, Ambassador, let me be blunt. I'm not an Imperial like you – it might take away some of their hostility."

"Very well," Mamoru said. "Thank you." It was not the time to argue that he and Naoe should not be treated with hostility at all, that he was an accredited diplomat – no matter what that concealed – and was expected. Let this be over, he thought, and I can live quietly and unobserved.

"This is the Stationmaster's office," Fjalarsson said, and held the door for him.

Inside, Mamoru met the flat stares of an office full of people, and was glad he was practiced in keeping his face expressionless. They saw an enemy from past wars, he supposed, brazenly wearing a uniform familiar from villains on entertainment programmes and from propaganda. He felt like a scared child, and was glad when Naoe glanced at him, and he felt a slight touch between his shoulders, reminding him to step forward. Captain Fjalarsson started talking, and one of the workers rose to bring them to another room, leaving then and returning with a woman Mamoru hadn't seen in the office outside. He was glad then to have Fjalarsson present, for it was quickly apparent she did not know the Imperial language, and was forced therefore to take out some petty spite on the Tsubame Maru's captain, rather than on Mamoru himself. Mamoru caught his name several times, and leant forward.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's nothing," Fjalarsson said. "It's something a lot of Alliance people try – they pretend they don't understand how imperial names work, and put the family name in the wrong place in their papers so they can make a stink when you're found to be carrying incorrect documentation. They think it's funny – you can see what a planet of comedians you'll have to deal with."

It was good, Mamoru thought, that Fjalarsson's impatience had made him obviously see himself on the same side as him. It was so much less likely he would try to cause some trouble for Mamoru at this late stage. He smiled politely at the woman and said, as clearly and slowly as he could, "My name is Takatori no Mamoru." That his accent was horrific, he had no doubt, but she clearly understood him, and he saw a slight flicker in her expression, as if she wondered how much else he might have understood. She said little else, scribbling on her tablet and finally holding it out to him, her tone at least polite.

"She wants you to sign where she's indicating," Fjalarsson said.

Mamoru took out his seal and pressed it to the spot. The woman looked at the characters and said something in annoyance.

"She wants you to sign as well," Fjalarsson said.

"Is the technology not compatible?" Mamoru said pleasantly. "My name seems to be showing on her screen." He took the stylus and tablet without complaint, and wrote his name neatly. The woman glared at the sets of characters, side by side, and then dealt with Naoe, much faster and without apparent obstruction. Finally they were free to go, cards covered in Alliance writing and numbers being handed to them with warnings that it was necessary to carry them at all times. Mamoru decided he would count it as a minor victory that his name on the card was in both imperial characters and the Alliance script.

"If that's how they treat diplomats, how will they treat your crew?" he asked.

Fjalarsson laughed shortly. "I don't think she believed you are a diplomat. She kept asking what sort of ambassador has one aide. No doubt when your people arrived she didn't believe they were your aides because you weren't with them. And she'll have held your youth against you. It's a game, Ambassador Takatori, but not one she can play against this ship's crew, we have our Alliance paperwork well enough in order for a short dock stay. We won't need to go down to the planet."

"My people are already here?" Mamoru said, hating how eager he sounded.

Fjalarsson shrugged. "They should be, they set off well before us. I'd say they've been here a week at least. Your chief aide should be in the public areas of the station, waiting to take you down to the planet. Well, Ambassador, I must take my leave."

"Captain Fjalarsson, I know you were not to blame for the incident that occurred," Mamoru said.

"The assailant must have been mentally unstable," Naoe said.

Fjalarsson nodded. Mamoru could see that no matter what had truly been behind the attempt on his life, Fjalarsson had accepted it would be reported as a case of madness and racial hatred. The man had already put his seal to Naoe's report stating that, his relief very apparent that his crew was not to be reported as possible Alliance provocateurs. "I have a parting gift for you," Fjalarsson said. "It's not much, but may be of some small use. This world is so far from normal Imperial trade routes – I'll have a crate of tea sent down for you."

"Thank you," Mamoru said, and, as the man bowed deeply, "Goodbye, Captain. A safe journey home." Fjalarsson walked away without saying anything more.

"Well," Naoe said in an all-too-accurate impersonation of Fjalarsson's voice. "He really must be worried about my report."

"Not worried enough to do more than get us off his ship as fast as possible or to help us find our people," Mamoru muttered. "Where should we start, do you think?" He grimaced in frustration. "Do these Alliance people really know we're a diplomatic mission?"

"They were informed," Naoe said. "The station personnel may simply be uncouth. Or they may not approve of our presence."

"Or they may know I'm not much of an ambassador," Mamoru said. The warning flicker of Naoe's eyes towards a camera silenced him. "When can we speak freely?" he said more quietly.

"Soon," Naoe said. "When we're really alone. Just a little longer."

Mamoru turned away, then stopped at the feel of pressure on his shoulder, almost like a hand squeezing gently. He leant against it slightly and watched, sidelong, as Naoe's brief smile crossed his face. It made him look different, younger and more approachable. More, Mamoru thought, like the person he'd met before his life was destroyed. Before he found his new friend had been set to investigate him. He laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, the levels of bluff and double-bluff involved in hiding that the deception practiced on him had not, in the end been deception at all, and that Nagi was truly his friend. Only a friend would have had himself sent into such an obscure exile, Mamoru thought.

"What's funny?" Naoe asked.

"Everything," Mamoru said. "Let's see if we can find anyone."

* * *


They found Mamoru's chief aide, a man of late middle age, anxiously dividing his attention between examining screens that told him how long the Tsubame Maru had been docked and asking an irritated station worker how one might go about locating newly arrived persons.

"Hayashi-san!" a younger man hissed, running up and gesturing at Mamoru. Hayashi hurried over, relief clear in his face. He and the other man bowed deeply.

"Takatori-sama," Hayashi said. "I'm glad you have arrived safely."

"Thank you," Mamoru said. "How long have you been here, Hayashi-san? And – it's Ishikawa, isn't it?"

"Yes, Ambassador," the younger man said shyly, bowing again.

Mamoru hid his unease. Apart from the briefest of meetings and his study of the scant personnel files of his staff, he knew nothing about them. They were all, their files suggested, easy to get along with, and dedicated workers. He hoped both aspects were true.

"We've been here for eight days, Ambassador," Hayashi said. "The rest of your staff have already been sent down to prepare the embassy and residence for you. I felt, however, that the budget allocated to us might not withstand the demands of us needing to come up to the station again. It was much more cost-effective for us to stay. We have passage to the surface booked for tomorrow, and I have reserved rooms for you and Lt Naoe tonight. I had this information sent to the Tsubame Maru, they should have sent your personal luggage to the rooms for you by now."

Mamoru weighed that against the likelihood of a small final malice disguised as misunderstanding, and felt sure he'd see none of his belongings till he was on the planet itself. Hayashi seemed pleasant enough, he thought, and competent. If he and Naoe really did find they had only the clothes they stood up in, no doubt the man could arrange to fill any small needs they'd have.

"Thank you," he said. "Is there anything we need do today?"

"No," Hayashi said. He paused. "Perhaps you might prefer to wear civilian clothing for the rest of the day, Ambassador? While the station personnel may be ignorant of Lt Naoe's uniform . . ."

"I thought our arrival on station might have been rather more formal than it was," Mamoru said ruefully. "If my luggage has indeed arrived, let me change, by all means." Hayashi gestured as to which way they should go; Mamoru wondered if it would be worse to borrow clothes from him or Ishikawa. They were both taller; though Hayashi was only a little taller than he, he was broad shouldered and his clothes would make Mamoru look ridiculous. Ishikawa was the same build as Mamoru, but almost a full head taller. Neither prospect was appealing.

"The rooms are very basic," Hayashi said in apology as they came to an establishment offering accommodation. He led them in and keyed open a door. "This has two rooms, that next door is a single room. I hope it's acceptable for you and Lt Naoe?"

Naoe went in ahead of them, and examined the doors and security fittings carefully. "It's acceptable," he said, the first words he'd said to Hayashi and Ishikawa.

Mamoru felt some of the tension leave him at the sight of his bags from the ship. He would not have to appear undignified in front of his staff just yet, he thought in relief.

"If you would like to change, Ambassador," Hayashi said. "We can find a place to eat – there are a few places that serve food of varying quality." He bowed again and left with Ishikawa.

"A word with you, Lt Naoe," Mamoru said, in case Naoe was about to flee as well. He shut the door and heaved a sigh. "What do you think of them?"

Naoe shrugged. "He's done his job so far. Ishikawa's afraid to put a foot wrong, I think. Maybe I should ask him some questions." A quick smile flickered over his face at Mamoru's expression. "I'm joking. He's unsettled, Hayashi's unsettled – they've probably been spat on every day they've been here."

"Wonderful," Mamoru said. "Let's change – you can borrow something of mine. Don't look like that," he said as Naoe's expression turned sceptical. "Ishikawa's far too tall to have anything to fit you, and you don't want us to be spat on, do you?"

"Hayashi said they probably wouldn't recognize my uniform," Naoe grumbled, but accepted the clothes Mamoru held out.

The food was strange, but edible. Mamoru was glad for the general lack of conversation during the meal, and even more glad to retire to his rooms afterwards. There was nothing he cared to do on the station, other than leave it. It was very odd to be by himself, to turn about and not see Naoe. He tried to watch the news and then an entertainment programme, but gave up in frustration. He hadn't really known what it would be like to be somewhere he couldn't speak the language, he thought. He really would have to learn, it was intolerable. At last he did the only thing left to him, and went to bed.


* * *


The chime of the door alarm woke Mamoru abruptly, leaving him muzzy headed and longing for more sleep.

"What is it?" he asked, hitting the communication button on his second try.

"It's morning," Naoe's voice said. "You need to get up."

Mamoru covered his eyes with his hand, then grimly forced himself out of bed. The water in the shower was blessedly hot, hotter than it had ever been on board the ship. He felt vaguely resentful to leave it. At last he felt fit to dress and emerge. A sudden thought took him, and he pressed the button for Hayashi's room.

"How much notice do you expect to be taken of our arrival?" he asked.

There was a moment's pause, then, "The other embassy staff seem to have attracted some attention, Your Excellency. They were featured on a news bulletin."

"Thank you," Mamoru said. He wondered which was better, to be noticed and treated as his rank required even if it was only a screen for his exile, or to be unnoticed and sink into the obscurity that Naoe promised would be safest. Neither option mattered to him for the next few moments, he decided, and took out his uniform, brushing it down carefully. He should at least look the part, he supposed.

Over breakfast, he paid distant attention to Hayashi and Ishikawa's words. He had known already that the transport to the surface was not a shuttle, but a space elevator. It was clearly safe, he told himself, if the Alliance personnel could use it to transport goods to the surface, and if the rest of his staff had already successfully used it to reach their new home. It would probably be better than the shuttle that had taken him to the Tsubame Maru – an uncomfortable trip that had made little pretence that he was anything but another trade item for export. For a moment he saw his home, the world he had never in his life left before he had been told his real name, his real family. The Takatori name had meant nothing to him but far-reaching political scandal till he'd known he was one of them. He'd had eighteen months of a new life, the realization he had some family members still alive and an inherited, short-lived commission in the navy – the last more for show than any other purpose, he thought, as he'd never set foot on a naval ship. All that was gone now. There was no use in wondering what had happened to his grandfather, or to the child he'd been told was his oldest brother's illegitimate daughter. There was nothing he could do for them, nor they for him.

"Sir?" Ishikawa said hesitantly.

Mamoru dragged his attention back to the present. "You were talking about our budget?" he said. "Please, go on."

"It's just that as a small embassy, on a planet removed from regular Imperial routes, we have a smaller budget than other embassies," Ishikawa said. "In fact, we seem to have a smaller budget even than we'd been led to believe. We'll be able to celebrate the major festivals, and to host some events during the year, as long as they're not too elaborate. The vast majority of the budget will go towards daily expenses." He looked shyer than ever as he said, "Even though the staff is so small, we must be careful to economise where possible, if we spend more than our allocated budget we may simply be left to pay the excess ourselves."

Mamoru nodded, sipping what he supposed was a cup of coffee. Hayashi would no doubt be able to deal with monetary matters. "How often do we expect Imperial ships to dock?" he said.

"Not more frequently than one every two years," Hayashi said. "We are very far off the trade routes," he said, as if he felt this would disappoint. "We may wish to order future necessities before the Tsubame Maru leaves."

"I'll leave that in your hands," Mamoru said. He shoved the cup away from him. "This is vile," he said. "I'll be glad to drink something more palatable when we reach the surface."

"I hope we all may," Hayashi said. "Unfortunately, this planet does not grow tea."

Mamoru stared at him. "Why not?" he said. "Don't they have hydroponics?"

"They prefer coffee, which is produced here," Hayashi said. "According to my information, they also grow very little rice. We must eat the local foods."

"Perhaps we should buy some more of Fjalarsson's supplies, to go along with his gift," Naoe said, leaving Mamoru to explain that a crate of tea was to be sent to the surface.

This really is exile, Mamoru thought, and forced himself to finish his breakfast. He might as well get used to it.


"Don't be nervous," Naoe said quietly as they waited to journey to the surface. "We probably won't even feel it move."

"That seems optimistic," Mamoru muttered. He looked more cheerfully at Naoe then. "I'm not nervous. The sooner we're down, the sooner we can be forgotten, right?"

"Right," Naoe said, very quietly. "Shhh."

Hayashi ushered Mamoru ahead of him through the doors that led to the space elevator. Mamoru was disappointed to find it seemed like just another part of the station. Most of it, he'd been told, was given over the delivery of goods to and from the station, and the space allocated to passengers seemed more a waiting room than part of a transport. He settled himself comfortably and watched some Alliance men and women start up a card game. After what seemed an interminable wait he felt a distinct lurching motion and supposed they had begun to descend.

"I told you that you were optimistic," he said to Naoe, ignoring Hayashi and Ishikawa's looks at his familiar tone.

Hours later, Mamoru was merely bored. There was nothing more he could be told about the embassy and the staff, and none of his three travel companions seemed able to make small talk. The Alliance personnel's card game had long since finished, and most of them were dozing. Mamoru felt that was probably the best use of the journey, but felt constrained not to let his dignity slip. It was with utter relief that he heard the announcement Hayashi translated as telling them that arrival was imminent. When the doors finally opened and he and the others could make their way out he felt his spirits lifted simply from having only one more short trip to make before he would be in a house that would be his.

He was surprised, on his exit into the public areas of the spaceport to find a larger reception committee than he'd expected. Gathered around the small knot of what had to be his staff were men and women with cameras and recorders, all of whom turned his way at once. Mamoru looked at them calmly, sure Naoe and the others had noticed his flinch.

"Takatori-sama, Hayashi-san!" one of the staff said rather desperately, trying to beat the reporters to them. "We have cars, this way please!"

"Good afternoon, Ambassador Takatori!" one of the reporters yelled in an almost unrecognizable attempt at the imperial language.

"Good afternoon," Mamoru said, hoping he did not appear too fearful. "Excuse me, please." Beside him Hayashi was saying much the same in the reporters' language, he assumed. All he could think was he was very glad for Naoe's presence, for though they continued yelling questions and tried to get in the way, no reporter touched him, nor managed to detain their group. Scant minutes later, Naoe was holding a door for him, and Mamoru emerged into blazing white sunlight, the heat as heavy as a blow between his shoulders.

"This way, sir," the man who had greeted them gasped, and led them at a fast pace to three waiting large, black cars.

Mamoru resisted the urge to dive into the shade, and climbed in as gracefully as he could. The cool of the air conditioning seemed like the most pleasurable thing he had ever experienced. He smiled in relief at Hayashi, who entered with as much obvious pleasure as he had. The man who had greeted him climbed in as well, closing the door.

"I'm Mori, Your Excellency," he said. "We have the residency ready for you. I hope you are not too warm? This is the hottest part of the day."

"I'm fine, thank you," Mamoru said. He looked out the window. "Where is Lt Naoe?"

"In one of the other cars," Mori said, and though his tone was polite, and Mamoru did not catch any glance between him and Hayashi, he knew for certain that they did not approve of Naoe's presence and, no doubt, feared him for both his political influence and his abilities. The Psi-Corps, Mamoru mused, were perhaps even more friendless than a hastily legitimized creature fallen from grace such as himself.

Fifteen minutes later the cars drew in to a gate set in a high wall. Mamoru looked at the crowd gathered in front of it and made his face fall into expressionless calm.

"Should I say anything?" he said. "I have a brief statement – nothing controversial," he added quickly, in case they thought he was going to try and claim asylum.

"It might help," Mori said. "It could make us look better to them. We've already had requests for interviews with you, I've vetted those asking clearance to hold interviews in the embassy itself."

"A simple, short greeting would be best," Hayashi said. "Let's get the cars in first, or we'll be stuck here."

Mamoru nodded. It was a relief to think he'd have clear ground behind him if his nerve broke. The mental image of him scuttling for safety made him want to laugh; only the thought that he'd seem a child to his staff kept him silent as they came into a courtyard and drew to a halt before a large building of pinkish stone. He exited the car, back into the oppressive heat, taking note of Naoe getting out of the second car.

"I'm going to say hello to the reporters," he said as Naoe came up to him. "The others think it'll be good for our image."

"They want you to walk up to an unknown Alliance crowd?" Naoe said. "Absolutely not."

"You'll be there," Mamoru said. "You'll keep me safe." He thought then that Naoe's disapproval was perhaps political, adding meekly, "I won't say anything I shouldn't. Mori said the press already wants interviews, don't you think it's better to appear harmlessly friendly?"

"Say hello and how much you like their planet, and then disengage," Naoe said grudgingly, his face grim as he looked at the crowd.

"That's the sort of thing Hayashi advised," Mamoru said.

"Huh," Naoe muttered. "All right. Let's go."

He was just being protective, Mamoru told himself as he, Naoe and Hayashi walked back to the gate. Naoe had no reason to doubt him politically, even given their circumstances. He stopped before the crowd, a pleasant smile on his face.

"Good day, I am Takatori no Mamoru," he said, Hayashi coming in smoothly after him to translate. "I'm very glad to have reached your world after a long journey, and look forward to taking up my duties here. I very much hope our work here will be beneficial to relations between our peoples." He bowed slightly, thinking longingly of shade and cool.

The reporters began yelling questions, Hayashi whispering his translations in Mamoru's ear.

"Why have you been given this job at such a young age? What is your opinion of the imperial seizure of the Alliance worlds Persephone and Demeter? I'd advise against answering that, Ambassador –"

"So would I," Naoe said grimly.

" – Are you married?"

"I'm very honoured to have been given this chance so early in life and will do my utmost to fulfill my duties as would an older person," Mamoru said. "I'm not married. Thank you for your questions."

"Let's go," Naoe said as the reporters began to call out again.

Mamoru felt an insistent pressure turning him, and gave in gracefully. "Thank you again," he said to the crowd, and walked away. The heat became heavier with every step, and he was glad to see Mori standing by the largest door of the building, ushering him inside. Stepping from the intense light into the building was for a moment like stepping into pitch-blackness, then his eyes began to adjust and he saw a large foyer with rooms leading off it on every side.

"A glass of water, sir?" Mori said, and a dark-haired young woman a few years Mamoru's senior stepped forward, holding out a tray of glasses.

Mamoru drained it in one long swallow, and took another, drinking more slowly. "It's rather hot," he said, and was glad to see smiles at the small joke.

"This is the embassy building, sir," Mori said. "The wing to the left you might like to use as your residency. It can be accessed through the embassy; there is no need to go outside. Perhaps once you have refreshed yourself you would like to meet the staff and be shown around?"

"Thank you," Mamoru said. "I'll need a few minutes to tidy myself." He caught Naoe's eye; the sooner he could make sure he hadn't said anything too embarrassing to the reporters the better. The cloakroom they were shown to seemed private enough, he thought. "I really wouldn't have said anything political to those people," he said. "Especially not over some issue that's over a century old. Was my lack of an answer something they can use?"

"You were all right," Naoe said. "If they want, they'll twist anything and everything. I bet that tabloid reporter will claim she got some sort of exclusive, wait and see."

"How do you know there was a tabloid reporter?" Mamoru said.

"Oh, Ambassador Takatori! Are you . . . married?" Naoe said in a simpering tone. "Hardly a respectable newspaper, I'd imagine."

Mamoru felt tension leave him in a rush. If Naoe was relaxed enough to joke, he thought, things must be all right between them. "Nagi –" he said, reaching out for Naoe's hand.

"I'll have to carry out a total security sweep of this place," Naoe said, letting just their fingertips touch. "It's a new build, I was told; there could be any number of surveillance devices embedded. I doubt Mori will have found everything. It's ridiculous you were given only one trained security person apart from me."

"But you're worth ten men," Mamoru said, stepping closer.

"We don't necessarily want that known," Naoe said, and put a hand on Mamoru's chest to stop his embrace. "Did you hear anything I just said about surveillance devices?" he said, amusement lurking in his voice. "The Tsubame Maru is still in dock," he went on, quieter. "We're a nine-days wonder for this place. Let us be cut off from contact with the empire, let us be quiet and boring and totally unnewsworthy. It shouldn't take long, Mamoru."

"All right," Mamoru said, and turned away to wash his face. Naoe was right, of course. It was only a matter of time before he would be as free as he could ever expect. He just had to wait.

The staff were assembled in a large room, all neat and looking at him expectantly. Mamoru looked them over, noting they were a mix of imperials as well as subjects of the empire, some of whom appeared to have some imperial ancestry. It was a mix designed to look good for curious Alliance eyes, he thought. He wondered how they would be to work with – what could have induced them to volunteer for such a mission? Or what, he thought with grim humour, had they done to deserve being condemned to this? They were a mix of near-retirement age, like Hayashi, and very young and seemingly inexperienced, like Ishikawa. It seemed obvious that this was not seen as an important post by the government, for those sent as the staff as well as for Mamoru.

"Good afternoon," he said. "I'm glad to be here with you at last. I am Takatori no Mamoru, commissioned to take up the duties of Imperial Ambassador on the Alliance world Alcmene. I look forward to working with you all and I'm sure we will admirably represent the empire on this world. This is Lt Naoe, my political advisor, who accompanied me on the journey. I'm very pleased to meet you all."

They all bowed deeply and straightened, looking at Naoe and him with curiosity. Mamoru wondered what they were thinking and felt sorry for a moment that Naoe's abilities were not such as could tell him that. Then he was glad to remain ignorant, for surely their thoughts were a mixture of contempt for his family's actions and for his youth, and nervousness about Naoe, who was holding himself stiff and gloweringly silent, the very image of an emotionless Psi-Corps character in a sensational drama. Mamoru had vacillated back-and-forth over how to describe him; "bodyguard" was insulting to Naoe, "jailer" was accurate but demeaning to Mamoru, while describing him as the political officer for the embassy would no doubt have caused the staff en masse to worry they were suspected of treason. "Friend" would simply not have been believed, and Naoe would have been disgusted with him. It was useless to think more on it, he decided as Hayashi came forward to make introductions. It was also useless to try and keep the names he already knew matched with the people he was meeting in his memory, he realized. He'd study their pictures later, he thought, as a headache started. For now, it was enough to remember those people he'd actually spoken with before seeing the staff in a group. Thankfully the gathering that followed was not long; a few drinks and snacks, and the chance to affix a couple more names to faces. Ito, a quiet man who was to be his personal secretary, Laurent, who was, it seemed, versed in Alliance law and was to be both his lawyer and the head of immigration, Kishida, whom Hayashi was introducing –

"Kishida-san," Mamoru said. "You're cultural information and outreach, right?"

"Yes," Kishida, a heavy-set man in his forties, said. "I've held a similar position before, though as part of an office's staff. I drew up some educational material suitable for this world during our journey, when it is properly prepared I would be very glad to show it to you. This is Martin-san, who will be working in the same area."

Mamoru smiled at the woman who had waited in the hall earlier. The Alliance would expect to see women in public positions, he'd been told. It was good to have one in the cultural outreach department, especially one that looked foreign enough to Alliance eyes to be merely exotic, not threatening. An imperial grandparent, perhaps, he thought, looking at her eyes. "Thank you for the water," he said. "I don't think I've ever been as hot in my life."

"It's very hard for us all," she said. "Even a little exposure without protection in the afternoon is exhausting. You are a little sunburnt, Takatori-sama, just from your short delay outside."

Mamoru sighed as he left them; his face was feeling hot and he could only hope it would not be painful. It was a good thing he would not have to go outside to get to and from the embassy, he thought, suddenly wanting to be shown around his new home far more than to meet anyone else. He managed to stay pleasant until the room had cleared, and all through the tour of the embassy that followed, admiring the public areas, the offices for various staff members and his own, imposing large and empty. It was with the purest pleasure he agreed he would like to see the wing set aside as the residency, and was genuine in his admiration for the large reception rooms he was shown.

"I must ask Ishikawa if the budget will allow some furniture," he said quietly to Naoe, and hid his amusement as Hayashi hurried to say money had already been allocated to properly fit out all the rooms.

At last he was shown his private rooms, which had been fitted out at least in part.

"If there is anything you prefer as regards styles or particular pieces of furniture –" Hayashi said, showing him another two reception rooms, an office and bedrooms, all with their own bathrooms. "There is a small kitchen, but you may prefer to take your meals for the moment in the building set aside for the staff, until sufficient kitchen staff have been employed?"

"That will be fine," Mamoru said. "Are you all living on embassy grounds?"

"Just for the moment," Hayashi said. "It's often preferable to have staff living in the local area, it sends a good message, I think. The staff have been working to have the embassy at least in minimal order; as a result there was not time to find them alternate accommodation. It's a little basic for everyone - some of our requests for necessary furnishings seem to have gone astray." He smiled, looking as tired as Mamoru felt. "That's a hazard of any new diplomatic mission."

"Please thank everyone for their efforts on my behalf," Mamoru said, suddenly touched at the thought of them hurriedly buying beds and tables.

"Will you eat with us now, or would you prefer something sent here?" Hayashi said. "It's been a tiring day, perhaps you'd prefer the quiet?"

"Thank you," Mamoru said gratefully. "Perhaps something could be sent over?" He was sure they wanted to gossip about him, and felt it would be unfair to cause them any delay. In their place he was sure he'd be eager to dissect every piece of information.

"And Lt Naoe?" Hayashi said.

"I'll eat here," Naoe said. "And I'll take the second bedroom."

"Ah. We were unsure. I'll have your things brought immediately. Good evening, Ambassador Takatori, Lt Naoe."

Hayashi bowed and left. Mamoru was sure he'd caught a quick sympathetic glance. It was good to think Hayashi was well-disposed towards him, he thought, but he would have to show they needed to be well-disposed towards Naoe as well. He sat down and heaved a sigh.

"Remember what I said about security," Naoe said as he opened his mouth.

"Yes," Mamoru said obediently.

"It's probably all right for tonight. I'll just have a preliminary look round," Naoe said. "Don't eat all the food when it comes."

"I'll try not to," Mamoru assured him, and closed his eyes, letting Naoe do what he could without equipment. He was asleep almost immediately, and remembered little of being woken to eat, or of staggering thereafter into his bedroom, where he slept soundlessly and dreamlessly until morning.


* * *


The following two days passed quickly, full of the formal requirements of setting the embassy up to the Alliance's requirements. Mamoru felt he had never written his name so often before, and cursed the Alliance's insistence that a personal seal was not enough. When he was not reading or signing documents, he was being drilled in simple phrases in the planet's language so that he could at least recognize when people greeted him or commented on the day's heat. His progress in that was slower than he liked, which Hayashi mildly put down to his impatience.

"I need to be able to read and write this language as well," Mamoru said, rebelling against repeating queries after a listener's family's health.

"That will come in time, sir. Two days is hardly enough to become proficient in all areas," Hayashi said. "For now, if you could --?"

Mamoru sighed. "Is your wife well? Is your children well?" he parroted.

"Are your children well?"

"Are your children well? Is the . . . the dog of the uncle of your mother well?"

"I'm glad to see you can adapt these phrases, sir," Hayashi said dryly, "Though I doubt you will need that one in particular." He put away his notes, neatly. "Perhaps you would benefit from a break from language issues. You must present your credentials to the authorities; we must discuss the particulars of your appearance before the government's leader."

"I've never dealt with a planetary governor," Mamoru said. "Exactly how formal am I meant to be?"

"Given that the planet is of minor importance, has only been opened for civilian settlement in the last thirty years and, it seems, was picked for development in the first place only to claim it formally in case one day we should decide to wander without any apparent plan in this direction, I should say, not very formal," Hayashi said.

Mamoru hid a grin at his waspish tone, Hayashi turning in his mind suddenly into a person with his own opinions and preferences who was, perhaps, just as irritated with Mamoru's continued and sustained inability to pronounce some of the more outlandish Alliance sounds as was Mamoru himself. "No court robes, then?" he said.

"No court robes," Hayashi agreed. "The person you must meet is Tomek Kaminski, he's effectively the planetary governor, but is officially the head of the development council, as Alcmene is still in its settlement phase. I would advise that you bring only a small number of us with you, there's no need for all the staff to present themselves."

"I'll need you, of course," Mamoru said. "Who else?"

"Kishida, to talk about cultural affairs, and a couple of non-imperials," Hayashi said. "I'd suggest Laurent, as head of immigration - his command of the language is very good – and Martin, her previous work was in groups designing educational programmes for children. She can answer questions about coming to speak in schools and colleges, and Alliance people like to see a mix of men and women working together, it reassures them we aren't quite the ogres their dramas tell them. And Lt Naoe?" Hayashi finished delicately, his tone making it clear he would show no preference for or against Naoe's presence.

"Lt Naoe, of course," Mamoru said.

"It will be assumed he's a military attaché," Hayashi said. "He is on our list of personnel by name, not rank – you will of course not say what branch he is from?"

"No," Mamoru said. "Of course not – Naoe-san said he didn't think the Alliance even knew about the Psi-Corps."

"These people may not," Hayashi said, "However, as the Corps is no secret at home, of course the Alliance knows of their existence. Whether they believe in their abilities or not is another matter. I've read some scholarly articles on the Corps, and there are a wide range of theories, from elite combat units trained from infancy up by a cruel and inhumane regime that the Alliance must wipe from the face of the galaxy to suppositions they are the modern remnants of sects of warrior monks who practice outmoded religious devotions that have nonetheless sustained such groups' existence within imperial society for centuries. No matter what the theory, there is usually at least one overly-romantic illustration of ancient warriors," he finished, a tiny smile on his face.

"Bizarre," Mamoru said in astonishment. "I wonder if Lt Naoe knows?"

"I don't have those articles any more," Hayashi said apologetically. "Ah, there is one more thing," he said. "Although I have not had this experience myself in other diplomatic missions, I have heard that we may be obliged to assure the authorities that the non-imperials on staff are free persons." He looked seriously at Mamoru's blank expression. "I've heard of at least one occurrence where it was assumed such persons were slaves."

"That's outrageous!" Mamoru said, appalled.

"No doubt the result of an ignorant person who believed too much propaganda," Hayashi said. "As this is an out of the way world I thought I should bring it up – I think it more likely to be a popular charge brought against us by the press, if it happens at all."

"How could they even think –" Mamoru started. He took a deep breath. There was no point in losing his temper. "I'm sure you're right," he said. "It's ignorance. No one would think such things if they really knew us."

"It's just a possibility you should be aware of. Shall we practice how you should greet Mr Kaminski?" Hayashi said. He listened to Mamoru's practiced speech, nodding in approval. "Then I will translate – while I will be able to repeat the whole greeting at once, it would be better if you paused every so often to allow a translation. It looks more immediate. If I might suggest, do not bow so deeply, sir, we do not wish to appear too formal, and they are not used to it, it looks very submissive."

Mamoru nodded, and started again, leaving pauses as directed and bowing less deeply. Hayashi then turned to face him, smiled very broadly and spoke loudly and quickly in the planetary language, abruptly thrusting forward his hand at the end. Mamoru paused, then gingerly reached out and shook it, remembering Alliance characters in dramas.

"Good," Hayashi said, "Did you catch any of that? Don't worry, I'll be translating."

"I think I heard my family name," Mamoru said. "Will he really speak that fast?"

"I can't say," Hayashi said. "I don't know how much contact he will have had with people who speak a different language. That was the normal speed at which the language is spoken. Now, please don't hesitate when you shake his hand, and you don't need to bow at the same time. Grip his hand more firmly as well, that's how men do it. And when in casual conversation, remember to smile a lot to dispel images of us they may have as dour and humourless."

"All right," Mamoru said in determination, and listened hard as Hayashi spoke again, this time catching what sounded like a query after his health. "I'm well, thank you," he said, shaking hands firmly and smiling broadly. The image of how they must look came into his mind, and he laughed helplessly. "I'm sorry," he said, catching his breath, "It's just so ridiculous! I feel like a little child hanging on to someone in case I get lost."

"Different cultures have different customs," Hayashi said, amused. "Let's try again." The humour in his voice was more apparent as he went on, "Luckily, it's not necessary to try and train the whole staff in the time we have. Mori, for example, would be very bad, and it will be enough perhaps if we can persuade Lt Naoe to at least bow."

Mamoru felt a pang at laughing, and told himself he was not mocking Naoe in particular. It just felt so comforting to be edging towards friendship with someone else.


* * *


"You can't expect me not to wear my uniform," Naoe said.

He was not yet annoyed, Mamoru saw, and could therefore be reasoned with. Rage made Naoe terrifying, but irritation merely made him dig in his heels and refuse even the most reasonable of suggestions. He tried to look conciliatory.

"Please consider what Hayashi-san said about the Corps' existence being known. Imagine the difficulty we'll have in living quietly if they realize what that means about you – it'll help us sink out of notice that much faster if you seem like everyone else." Naoe was getting a mulish look upon his face, he saw with dread, and pushed on. "Surely it would be all right for you to treat it as an undercover assignment?"

"If I'm to be present at an official function of this nature, I should be there in my official capacity," Naoe said with prickly dignity. "And we both know I have to be there."

"It just seems to me that you could observe more easily –" Mamoru started. He stopped as Naoe's expression took on a condescending edge that said more clearly than words that someone as pitifully limited in his experience as Mamoru could not possibly have an opinion worth expressing on such matters. "It's not like you haven't been more than willing to go undercover before," he snapped, knowing it was unfair to both of them.

Naoe just looked at him, his face washed clean of any expression whatsoever, then turned away. "Lend me something unmemorable," he said in a low and bitter voice.

Hearing the thread of shame in his voice, Mamoru tried to hold on to his annoyance and sense of victory in vain. Naoe was good at pretence and manipulating people, he reminded himself. The knowledge that he had heard hurt as well as shame was too much, however. "Nagi –" he said, to be forestalled by Naoe simply turning his back fully. Thorough searching over the past days had allowed Naoe grudgingly admit that the private rooms were free from surveillance, so Mamoru carefully put his hands on Naoe's shoulders, then slid one arm about him in an embrace. "I know you were only doing what you had to," he said, and fell silent. Weeks of constrained discretion and the terrors of the time before he'd known for sure he would be allowed live had left him unable to speak freely. He pulled at Naoe's shoulder till he turned to face him. If he could not speak -- Mamoru thought, trying to touch his lips to Naoe's. He staggered as Naoe freed himself with a push from his power.

"I can't," Naoe said, flat and hard, stepping back. "Not if you – I can't." He walked off, the door opening itself ahead of him and closing behind him with a carefully restrained sound.

Mamoru stood a moment, staring into nothing, then went to his room and flung open his wardrobe. He took out a dove grey jacket and matching trousers – they would not be, he thought, too foreign in appearance for the politicians he would meet, nor for the reporters who would almost certainly be there, and he had planned to wear them himself. Now he took them to Naoe's room and knocked politely.

"Yes," Naoe said wearily from within, just an acknowledgement of his presence, no more.

Mamoru went in and laid the clothes carefully over a chair. Naoe was sitting on his bed, head bowed, his gaze downcast. The last of the day's sunlight from one of the small windows caught the jacket's lining as it slipped open, turning it from a restrained matching grey to bright blue. It was one of Mamoru's better outfits from his brief time as a rich man, and he hoped it would find favour. "I thought this would suit you," he said. "It should fit properly, we're more or less the same size."

"Thank you," Naoe said, still engrossed in looking at the floor between his feet.

Mamoru wished he could have Naoe back as he had been before the reality had been revealed, even if that person was false and this silent, moody man was the truth of him. He wasn't quite sure what to do with someone like this, and had thought that once they were free of cameras and spies things would change back the way they had been. "Nagi?" he said.

Naoe stood and walked over to look at the clothes, lifting a sleeve for a moment before gently placing it down again. "Really, thank you," he said. He didn't look at Mamoru as he continued, "I did it to protect you. I told you that."

"You did," Mamoru agreed. The silence dragged heavily. "Are we still friends?" he asked, glad he could sound as if he were merely asking the time.

Naoe looked over at him in startlement. He stepped close and put the palm of one hand on Mamoru's cheek, and didn't resist when Mamoru took his arm to pull him closer still. "I wasn't blaming you," Mamoru said quietly. "Well, all right, I suppose I was. And I'm sorry. You had your reasons – you could tell me now, couldn't you?"

"I think I'm out of the habit of talking," Naoe said ruefully. He put his other hand on the other side of Mamoru's face and kissed him. Mamoru flung his arms about him, crushing them tightly together. He felt a light force pressing over him and shivered in excitement at the thought Naoe would use his ability at such a time. He tried to edge Naoe back towards his bed, but Naoe simply wrapped his arms round him and stayed where he was for another moment before breaking the kiss. "I have to meet with Mori," he said hoarsely.

"Now?" Mamoru said. "It's getting late. Tell him you're with me, tell him I really need you," he said, laughing.

"I'm sorry," Naoe said. "It's for security. Anyway, you need to be rested for tomorrow."

"We would both sleep so well –" Mamoru wheedled. Naoe visibly vacillated, and looked at his watch. Mamoru grinned in triumph, then jumped as the communications panel on the desk rang.

Naoe held a warning finger up to his lips, and then the answer button depressed itself. "Naoe here," he said.

"Lt Naoe? It's Mori."

"I'll be right there," Naoe said. "Please have the test results ready."

"Yes," Mori said. He didn't get to say anything else before Naoe ended the call.

"I have to go," Naoe said, pressing a final quick kiss against Mamoru's mouth. He straightened his hair quickly and walked smartly for the door, pausing to look back. "Of course we're still friends," he said, and left.

Mamoru sank onto the edge of the bed and let himself fall back. He was happy, he thought, for the first time in a long, long while.


* * *