I had zero mail this morning, and I figured this was better than a 
test message asking why...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
	Tachi's search for her hidden phone had been hurried, and she'd 
managed to throw most of her belongings all across Mousse's hut.  That 
made cleaning up a rather lengthy affair; she had to sort through all of 
Mousse's possessions in order to find her own.
	Being naturally inquisitive didn't help matters, either.
	Mousse led a cluttered life.  Plants hung from the ceiling; 
shelves covered the walls.  He had an impressive collection of books, and 
an extensive collection of doodads and gizmos, many of them sharp, and 
attached to strings and chains.  Tachi realized that this was his famed 
arsenal of hidden weapons, and spent a few minutes carefully snooping 
through it.  Nothing caught her eye.
	A trunk on the other side of the room did, though.  It was 
locked, and if the pile of books and the ring-shaped stains were any 
indication, Mousse was using it as a coffee table.
	Tachi was sorely tempted to pick the lock and see what was inside, 
but she didn't know when Mousse would return.  An open trunk would be 
hard to explain, so instead she flipped through the book on the top of 
the pile.  Mousse had been reading it when Brook brought her to the village.
	Tachi quickly amended her thought.  Mousse hadn't been reading; 
he'd been looking.  She was holding an old-style photo album.
	The mercenary girl recognized most of the age-yellowed pictures; 
Nabiki had taken them, and the original prints could be found in her 
mother's portfolio.  A few, mostly of Shampoo, had been shot from unusual 
angles.  Tachi guessed they were Gosunkugi's work.
	There was nothing unusual about the subject matter, well, nothing 
her parents or their friends would consider unusual.  Tachi was about to 
put the book down when she noticed that the pages weren't all the same 
weight.  A quick bit of snooping found a packet of powder hidden behind 
one of the pictures.  "Pour contents into cold water.  Stir gently.  Good 
for one use only," she read aloud.
	A grin slowly spread its was across her face as a plan began to form.

* * * * *

	Shun did not like Myrrh.  Nobody did, so this wasn't particularly 
unusual.  It did upset the slender boy, though; he liked to think of 
himself as a nice guy, but the more time he spent with Myrrh, the more he 
contemplated murder.
	<What would Mister Humphries do?> Shun asked himself.  <He'd say 
something witty and take this imbecile down a notch, the same way he 
deflates Captain Peacock's ego.>  Shun grimaced.  <Too bad my Chinese 
sucks; that might have been fun.>
	What made Shun feel worse was that Myrrh wasn't all bad.  Sure, he 
was slavishly devoted to Brook, and he was a vain, egocentric clod, but he 
wasn't evil.  He was good with the children, and he was more than willing 
to help cart away rubble and debris.  True, he did insist on being the 
one to pilot the wheelbarrow, but Shun could see why the guy didn't want to 
get all wet and muddy.
	And Myrrh was missing an eye now, so Shun felt obligated to cut 
him a little slack.
	That slack was vanishing quickly.  "Hey, could you grab one of 
these things?" Shun asked as an arm full of bricks threatened to overwhelm 
him.  "I don't have a good grip on them."
	*Huh?* Myrrh asked.
	<Moron,> Shun thought, although he wasn't sure if he was talking 
about his partner or himself.  *Need help now,* he gasped in Chinese.
	*No, I don't need any help.  You'd be surprised at how few people 
offer to help me, though.  I guess they figure I'm smart enough and 
strong enough to handle things on my own.*
	Shun danced around a bit as he struggled with the bricks, hopping 
from one foot to the other as he tried to use his knees and chin to get a 
better hold on his burden.  "Not you, you bloody imbecile, I was talking 
about-"
	The bricks won.  A last, desperate attempt to contain them only 
caused Shun to trip over the wheelbarrow.  He landed in a puddle; the 
bricks landed on him.  "Oh, Poopie," the long-haired boy muttered.
	*Now is no time to be taking a break,* Myrrh complained.  Shun 
frowned, then slowly, painfully, started to pick himself up.
	*Besides,* Myrrh added, *you almost got me wet.*
	Shun paused in the act of setting one of the bricks aside.  He 
stared at it, slowly studying every edge and facet.  He even tossed it in 
the air a bit, gauging its weight.
	*Well, are you going to get up and help me, or are you going to 
sit there all night and play with your rocks?*
	Shun looked up.  He could see the amazons watching him, their 
eyes eager and encouraging.
	"Do you need any help there, Miss?" Mousse asked.
	Shun tossed the brick aside.  "No, I don't think so," he sighed.  
"I do need a new change of clothes, though.  These are soaked through, 
and if I stay out here much longer I'll catch something and die."
	"The night isn't that cold."
	"Stupid Mousse," Shampoo said.  "Boy not a fighter.  He no have 
same stamina as amazons."  She bent down and picked Shun up by the back 
of his neck, then set him on his feet.  "You go Mousse's hut, change 
clothes," she told him.
	"Yes, Ma'am," he said smartly.  "Uh, which way is it?"
	Mousse pointed, and Shun limped away.  *Why did you call Tachi's 
friend a boy?* the white-robed warrior asked his lover.
	*Stupid Mousse,* Shampoo repeated with a smile.  *Shun Kuonji is a 
boy.  Didn't you know that?*
	*A boy?* Mousse and Myrrh chorused.
	*Men!*  A few of the amazons in the background chuckled in agreement, 
then went back to work.
	*He doesn't look like a boy,* Mousse muttered to himself.  *And 
he never corrected me.  Am I excessively intimidating tonight, or was he 
just being polite?*
	Myrrh took Mousse's question as an opportunity to speak up.  *If you 
ask me, Sir, I'd say you could only be intimidating to your enemies.*
	*Oh, really,* Mousse drawled.  Shampoo snickered.
	*Why yes.  And furthermore-*
	Mousse cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand.  *Who are you?*
	*My name is Myrrh.*  The scrawny young man pulled himself up to 
his full, albeit unimpressive, height.  *I've been meaning to speak to 
you for a while, Sir.  And you, too, Ma'am,* he amended quickly.
	*And why is that?* Shampoo asked.  She suspected the answer, and 
didn't like it.
	Mousse, too, suspected the answer.  He frowned, causing Myrrh to 
flinch and step back.  *Well, you see,* Myrrh stammered, *I'm one of 
Brook's friends-*
	Shampoo folded her arms and gave Myrrh a stern look.  *She's never 
mentioned you.*
	*R-really?  I can't imagine why not.  I mean, she and I are 
p-practically-*
	*You've been hurt.*  Mousse took a step closer to Myrrh and 
reached for the boy's bandaged head.  Myrrh skittered backwards.
	*I-it's nothing.  I had it looked at.*
	*By an imbecile,* Shampoo commented.  She vaulted over the 
wheelbarrow and caught the boy easily, then studied the poorly wound 
bandage.  *Stop struggling.  You've been hurt, and whoever saw to your 
injury must have been half-blind herself.  I could tie a better bandage 
with my teeth.*  She hissed and spat in anger.  *What did they use for a 
poultice?  Mud?*
	Half-formed ideas started to combine in Mousse's mind.  "Shampoo," 
he whispered.  "I need to speak with you.  Now!"
	*I'm a little busy at the moment,* she replied.  *Can't it wait?*
	"No, I really don't think it can."  He stepped to the side, 
moving so that he had an unobstructed view of Myrrh.
	*All right, Mousse.*  Shampoo let Myrrh go, then turned to face 
her lover.  "What you want?"
	Mousse continued his maneuvering.  "I think we have a big 
problem."  Myrrh took the opportunity to back away.  *Oh, no you don't!* 
Mousse shouted, wrapping the boy up in chains.
	*Mousse, have you gone insane?*
	*No, he hasn't.*  Myrrh gave the couple a weak smile.  *I tried 
to play nice, but you just wouldn't let me.  Well, I'm tired of playing 
by the Joketsuzoku rules.*  He struggled with the chains, but they held 
him fast.
	A crowd of amazons started to form.  *Mousse, what is he talking 
about?*  Shampoo demanded.  
	*We've found our dragon,* Mousse answered as he wrapped Myrrh in 
another layer of chains for good measure.
	*Yes, you have,* Myrrh said.  Then he tripped and fell forward.
	Right into a puddle of muddy rainwater...
 ______
{8-{=__
rmckenzi@euclid.ucsd.edu : The White-Robed Mathematician