My apologies to all those who waited. Real life got in the way of the
creative process.

Anyway, I hope it was worth the wait. C&C is welcome (and in fact,
encouraged).

Did you ever finish a fic, putting aline where through your dazed mind you
didn't know how exactly to phrase... and then upon rereading, find it very
very awkward, even when others wouldn't even notice you changed it? This
was one of those fics...

=====

	They screamed her name. The roar of the crowd could be heard, even all the
way into her lavishly furnished dressing room. They screamed her name, as
if demanding that she come out and do what it was she was supposed to.
	She stood up and left the dressing room. Dozens of bodyguards escorted her
backstage as if she were on the way to her own execution.
	Did I truly dream of this, long ago? she thought, the sound of her own
steps drowning out the din of the crowd, drowning out the sound of frantic
crewmembers making last-minute adjustments that would probably not even
matter in the end. Did I actually want this once, want it so bad that I
would have done anything to make it happen? That I would have given up
anything to achieve?
	Step.
	I did. I gave everything up. I stood up and left everything I held dear
for this.
	Step.
	Why? Why did she do this? Why did she keep doing this time and time again,
exhibiting herself, abasing herself, almost prostituting herself to these
people? These people probably had no other life, no real life in them, that
they would practically scream out their hearts to her?
	Step.
	What was she supposed to do with those hearts? Was she supposed to magic
them away herself, pandering to some escapist fantasy that they otherwise
have no courage to make real? Was she supposed to create the illusion with
her voice that their lives were not as empty as they were?
Step.
	She laughed to herself, silently, bitterly. How could I do such a thing
for them, when I can't even do it for myself?
	Step.
	She was onstage. The spotlight was flashing in her face, and the crowd
seemed even more faceless; each person in the crowd melted into this huge
mass of humanity, shouting, screaming her name.
	And in the exhilaration of the moment, then she forgot her own doubt, her
own angst, and realized why she wanted all of this.
	As Chukawa Sakura raised her voice to sing, she realized that she was
truly alive.


TimeRunner presents:

Y E N   T O W N 

A Limited Fanfic Series

All characters and trademarks used within are properties of their
respective owners and are being used without consent for non-profit purposes.
 Theme: In The Night - Key The Metal Idol Opening
Sequence 2
			
	[Kintaro walks the city streets at night]

Wish I could believe
That you care for me that way
Mirror, mirror speak to me 
In the night
 
	[Kintaro passes a shop window with a poster of Sakura, who moves as tries
to reach him as he walks past without noticing]

Don't you think I know
This grief can't be cried away
In the tears I cry I see
Rainy day

	[Camera pans to Hasukawa under a lamp post in the rain]

Why can't I love you so sleep would come to me

	[Mitsuru in the middle of the street looking up at a building]

With the eyes closed the mind has a perfect view

	[Zoom up to Nabiki on top of building, arms outstretched, eyes closed]	


It's

	[Sakura]

Just

	[Hasukawa]

We

	[Shinobu]

Do

	[Tetsuo]

Lost in your arms I float away

	[Yen bill carried by the wind away from Nabiki]

Don't you know

	[Yen passes by Kintaro who chases it]

Once daylight comes I'm searching for you

	[Shinobu watches, shrugs, then walks away]
	



=====
Chapter Three

	He pushed the wench away with one hand, lifting the cigar to his lips with
the other. "Get out," he said, which she hurriedly did, shutting the door
behind her. He picked up the brandy snifter and leaned back, resting his
leather-booted feet on the desk.
	He drank from the snifter with a shaking hand. The nicotine and alcohol
did nothing to calm his nerves. Disgustedly hurling the now-empty snifter
into the wall, he watched it shatter with satisfaction. He put his cigar
out on the marble ashtray, stood up, and started pacing.

	A yen! A real yen! Here, in his town!
	He clenched his fists in front of him, barely able to contain his tension.
And that idiot Hasukawa didn't even bother to follow the people who had it! 
	Ah, but I punished him properly, didn't I? he thought. Punished him and
set him off to Kintaro. I have no more need of him anyway. Not now, not now
that I know who has the yen!
	He chuckled to himself. The irony! The complete and utter irony of it all!
After all this time, after everything that has happened, it had to end like
this! It couldn't have ended better if he'd planned it himself!
	To tie up loose ends. That's what this was about, now. Tying up loose ends.
	Beat or be beaten.
	He grabbed the leather jacket draped on his swivel chair and put it on.
"Get in here," he said aloud at the shut door. Immediately four of his
personal bodyguards entered and stood at attention in front of his desk.
	Subdue or be subdued.
	"We're moving out," he said.
	"Yes sir!" they all replied in unison.
	"A rogue yen has been spotted in the city," he continued, "and it is but
natural that I claim it for myself. No, 'A'," he said to one of his guards
who was about to speak, "this takes priority over that matter. Oh, and
there will be no need for more men on this one. It's not like there's an
army waiting for us."
	"Yes sir," the bodyguard replied.
	Quell or be quelled.
	"After all," Shima Tetsuo said, with the makings of a sneer, "it's only my
old friend Mitsuru."
	Kill or be killed.


	"Are you absolutely sure?" Kintaro asked.
	Kazuya nodded. "Unfortunately, sempai. As far as I can tell."
	"Fine, then," Kintaro said, as he stood up and put on a red jacket. "We'd
better go and stop it from happening."
	"But that's going against Shima-san, sempai!" Kazuya exclaimed. "That's
suicidal!"
	"If what you told me is true, Hasukawa," Kintaro said, putting on biking
gloves, "then he'll be too busy going after the yen. That'll give us time
to get her and go before he knows what happened."
	"I'm not worried about that, sempai," Kazuya said, grabbing his own coat,
"I'm worried about what happens when he finds out!"
	"Then let's make sure he never does," Kintaro said. "Or at least, be long
gone in case he ever does."


	The stadium lights were off, and the only light filtered through the
dressing room door. The sets were still up, wood and paper and cloth all
put together to form the illusion of another place. Wires crisscrossed the
floor, from microphones to speakers to the unseen mixers offstage.
	No one else was in the stadium, no one but the night watchman who was
absolutely flustered to find her there in the middle of the night. She told
him there was no problem, then she just wanted to check the place out for
something she may have forgotten after the concert.
	Sakura sat on the floor of the stage where she had performed, like she
performed on so many stages so many times before that she could no longer
count, that she could no longer recall as separate memories.
	She had no intention of leaving the only place where she felt alive.
		

	Nabiki supposed that what Mitsuru said they should do was probably
perfectly reasonable, although a side of her simply chuckled and dismissed
it as just an excuse for the two of them to spend the entire day together
in the house.
	But Mitsuru seemed dead serious when he said they should hide out at her
place for a while, and so she played along.
	Not that she really minded. After all, she was the only person in the
entire house most of the time, and no matter how strong she perceived
herself to be, she got lonely every so often. In fact, she would have
probably been feeling like a housewife if Mitsuru didn't do all the chores
around the house himself while she lounged all day in the bedroom the way
she did. He cooked, he cleaned, he did the laundry, and he was even at that
moment washing that monstrous pile of dishes in the sink that she had been
neglecting for almost a week.
	Oddly, the clatter of dishes from the kitchen filled her eyes with tears.
	She laughed silently to herself at how ridiculous she was acting, even as
she wiped the tears away.


	"Perhaps you don't understand me," Tetsuo said to the landlady. "I want to
speak with Ikeda Mitsuru."
	"Perhaps you don't understand me," the landlady replied flatly, "Ikeda
Mitsuru has not returned here in Ryokurin Ryo since yesterday morning. In
fact," she said, motioning to the armed escort behind Tetsuo, "I think that
no business you have with Ikeda-kun could possibly be more important than
me chastising him for not setting a proper example as dorm president."
	Tetsuo chuckled at this. He liked this woman. "Perhaps, perhaps. When you
are through with him - that is, when he returns - please let me know.
Here's my number," he said, giving her his calling card.
	"Whatever," the landlady replied, taking the card. "Personally, I think
it's that Tendo girl of his. Rotting his brain, I tell you. He used to be
so responsible, too."
	Tetsuo looked at the landlady in surprise. "Tendo? Tendo Nabiki?"
	"Yes, I think that's her name," the landlady replied. "Anyway, I'll call
you when he returns, provided you come here at a reasonable hour next
time?" she said, motioning to the clock, which read ten-o'clock PM.
	"You do that," Tetsuo said distractedly as he walked out the door, Tendo
Nabiki? She was the girl Hasukawa said he was with? After all this time?
	As he entered his limo, he softly spoke one word.
	"Himawari."


	"Kuriyagawa Sakura."
	Sakura gave a start. Kuriyagawa? No, it couldn't be� She turned around to
look at the dressing room door. Who could possibly be here who knew her
real name? She couldn't tell who it was, she had to squint because of the
light behind the figure. "Who� Who's there?"
	"Oh, God, Sakura," the figure replied, "you don't even remember me. You
walk out of my life, change your name, become a huge success and the object
of every male's desire, including, may I add, the almighty Shima Tetsuo,
and then you forget me." The figure looked like he was writing something
down in a small notebook. "'Fame begets forgetfulness.' You learn something
everyday."
	"K� Kintaro?" asked Sakura tentatively.
	The figure hesitated, then scratched out the entry. "Or maybe not." He
started writing again. "'Always be ready to unlearn what you have learn,
just in case you're proven wrong.' There. Much better."
	"Kintaro! It is you!" Sakura leapt to her feet and ran to embrace Kintaro.
"It's been so long� I've been worried that you'd forgotten me!"
	Kintaro kept writing. "'Forget money. Irony makes the world go round.' If
I remember correctly, Sakura, you left me and wanted to start fresh,
remember? You wanted to wash your hands of what I do so badly that you
simply up and left. You hated what I did and who I did it with so badly
that you ran away, claiming that you were afraid that my 'friends', namely
Tetsuo, would do something nasty to you that you shunned me, making me
guilty simply by association. So what is this? What the hell are you
embracing me for? You don't want anything to do with me, remember?"
	Sakura grinned and smirked at the same time, a strange mix of sheepishness
and sarcasm on her face. "'Always be ready to unlearn what you have learn,
just in case you're proven wrong.' I was, and I know it. Can you forgive me?"
	Kintaro grinned. "Yes I can. But you were right, Sakura."
	Sakura blinked. "What?"
	"'Be ready to relearn, though, because you may be right after all,'"
Kintaro said, appending to his last entry.
	"What� What are you talking about?"
	"You were right to run away," Kintaro said. "I'm here to warn you. Tetsuo
is sending his men to kidnap you."


-----

	"YOU LET THEM GET AWAY?!" roared Tetsuo, shaking Hasukawa by the collar.
	"I had no idea you wanted that yen! All I know is that Ikeda Mitsuru and
some girl used the yen in some change machine, and that they got several
tens of thousands of dollars from it!" Hasukawa answered pleadingly.
	"You had no idea? YOU HAD NO IDEA?! IDIOT!" Tetsuo said, slapping Hasukawa.
	Hasukawa licked his broken lip, glaring at Tetsuo.
	Tetsuo noticed. "What? What is this? Are you glaring at me, Hasukawa? Are
YOU glaring at me?"
	Hasukawa did not answer. He refused to even dignify this obviously
deranged man's ranting.
	"You ARE glaring at me, aren't you? AREN'T YOU?! Fine! I'll teach you to
question my authority! Restrain him," Tetsuo said to his guards.

	Hasukawa struggled against his bonds, his arms and wrists bloodied from
rubbing against the coarse rope used to bind them. He heaved a sigh and
leaned back, resting on the marble pillar that he was hitched to. Sweat
trickled into his wounds and over his eyes, stinging, dulling his senses.
He struggled to retain consciousness, as he saw Tetsuo approach him,
carrying a dagger in its scabbard.
	"I'll spare your life, Hasukawa," Hasukawa heard Tetsuo say through the
dull red numbness, "but unfortunately I will still have to punish you for
your neglect of your duties as one of my followers. I sincerely hope you
won't ask me to kill you while I exact your punishment." Hasukawa glimpsed
before sweat and blood clouded his sight totally Tetsuo pulling out the
dagger, revealing one cleanly sharp edge, and a jagged opposite edge.
	Hasukawa felt a sharp, tearing pain, first at his arms, and then his legs,
and then his back. The pain grew, engulfing him, threatening to drive him
mad, then delivering him to blessed unconsciousness.

-----


	Hasukawa rubbed his arm at the memory, as he waited in a car outside the
stadium. This was suicide, he thought. Going against the will of the
almighty and all-demented Shima Tetsuo. Hasukawa was beginning to think
Tetsuo was omniscient. Nothing really ever escaped Tetsuo, nothing that
ever threatened his plans. Somehow Tetsuo always caught wind of anything
that did and snuffed it out berore any damage could be done.
	It all made sense, now. Tetsuo was so enraged that Hasukawa had let the
yen slip from his grasp because he did not have one himself. It was so
elegantly simple that no one had ever even considered the possibility. And
it took one man to figure it out.
	Hasukawa snorted as he looked at the open stage entrance. And now that man
was throwing it all away for a woman. Ironic as it seemed to Hasukawa,
apparently some people never learned.


	
	One of Tetsuo's bodyguard, 'A', to be precise, took a beer out of the
limo's fridge and offered it to him as they drove, but Tetsuo simply glared
at him, and 'A' ashamedly drew the drink back.
	Idiots. All of them idiots. All of them sniveling cowards, sucking up to
him in order to get behind him in the pecking order. Sycophants, the entire
lot of them. Sycophants, the entire city.
	Tetsuo had a grudging respect, no matter how annoyed it made him, for
people who did not give in so easily to his will. Anger at disobedience was
tempered by admiration for someone else in this god-forsaken city with a
spine.
	Hasukawa showed promise. Tetsuo wouldn't have sent him to Kintaro if he
didn't think Hasukawa had promise. He didn't even scream when he was being
punished. He didn't beg for mercy. Now that was someone who was worth
keeping around.
	Tetsuo pulled out a cigar, which two of his bodyguards, 'B' and 'E', he
thought,  hurried to light. He blew smoke in their faces with distaste.
	Who else has ever denied my authority? he thought. Ah, yes, Kintaro.
Tetsuo chuckled. And now he's my right-hand man.
	There was that cursed Shinobu. Well, he's dead now. I saw the smoldering
remains of his car myself after it had crashed down the mountainside. A man
as dangerous as that deserves to be out of the way. Of all the people I've
met, he was the only one who could hope to match my authority.
	Then there's Mitsuru. A situation soon to be rectified, he thought with
satisfaction.
	Then there was Nabiki.

	She was with him?!
	So much time has past and still Mitsuru manages to one-up me?!

	This changes everything. She changes everything.
	Himawari.


To be continued�

=====
TimeRunner's Page:
http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Towers/7482
=====

"The story grew in the most convoluted way, as many people will be
surprised to learn. Writing episodically meant that when I finished one
episode I had no idea about what the next one would contain. When, in the
twists and turns of the plot, some event suddenly seemed to illuminate
things that had gone before, I was as surprised as anyone else."

--- Douglas Adams, "A Guide to the Guide"