They screamed her name. The roar of the crowd could be heard 
even all the way to her lavishly furnished dressing room. They 
screamed her name, demanding that she come out and do what it was she 
was supposed to do.
	She stood up and left the dressing room. Dozens of bodyguards 
escorted her backstage like guards 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 who had no other life, no real 
life in them, and they had the gall to offer their hearts and their 
lives to her?
	Step.
	What was she supposed to do with those hearts? Those lives? Was 
she supposed to magic them away herself, pandering to some escapist 
fantasy that they otherwise had no courage to make real? Was she 
supposed to create the illusion with her voice that their lives were 
not as empty as they really 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.
	Now she was onstage. The spotlight was flashing in her face, and 
that made the crowd seem 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, 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 what 
set her apart from all the faceless crowd.
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 half-
empty snifter into the wall, he watched it shatter with satisfaction. 
He put his cigar out on the faux 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 he punished him properly, didn't he? Punished him and 
set him off to Kintaro for reeducation. He had no more need of him 
anyway. Not now, not now that he knew who had what he wanted!
	He chuckled to himself. The irony! The complete and utter irony 
of it all! After all this time, after everything that had 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 
long-sleeved shirt over his white T-shirt. "We'd better go and stop it 
from happening."
	"But that's going against Shima-san, sempai!" Kazuya exclaimed. 
"That's suicide!"
	"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 either never does," Kintaro said, 
putting on his shades, "or at least, be long gone in case he 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 and 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, that she just wanted to 
check the place out for something she may have had 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 she could no 
longer count, she could no longer recall them as separate memories.
	She had no intention of leaving the only place 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 ended up doing. 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 Greenwood since yesterday 
morning. In fact," she said, motioning toward the armed escort behind 
Tetsuo, "I think that no business you have with Ikeda-kun could 
possibly be more important than me scolding 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 this time in the direction of  
the wall 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 bandaged 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.
	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 had ever denied his authority? Ah, yes, Kintaro. Tetsuo 
chuckled. And now he was Tetsuo's right-hand man.
	There was that cursed Shinobu. Well, he was dead now. Tetsuo saw 
the smoldering remains of his car himself after it had crashed down 
the mountainside. A man as dangerous as that deserved to be snuffed 
out. Of all the people he'd met, Tezuka Shinobu was the only one who 
could have hoped to match his authority.
	Then there was Mitsuru. A situation soon to be rectified, he 
thought with satisfaction.
	Then there was Nabiki.

	This changes everything. She changes everything.
	Himawari.


To be continued�

=====
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