Note: Okay, I went back to an older story of mine and updated it for inclusion here in this series. It was originally inspired by the story Dear Mom by JHedge all about a foreigner who moves into an office across from the Silky Doll, and how she begins to notice unusual goings-on across the street. The idea of an outsider looking in somehow triggered something in me, and this was the result. It's a bit different, so bear with me. ------ -Prologue- He rubbed his hands together as he tried to keep them warm. While everyone else was back at the den slowly getting stoned, he was out here hiding in an alley across the street from a women's clothing store. The street gang he was a member of had been putting pressure on local businesses to give them protection money. Most of the mom and pop places around this district, as well as some of the swankier stores, had immediately given in to the thugs. Most, but not her. She didn't look like so much on the outside; just some stuck-up bitch that ran a place called the Silky Doll. He could still remember going into the place with three other gang members when there were no customers around and she was alone. It should have been simple; put a little scare into her, then collect the dough. Instead, she listened to their threats with what could only be described as amusement. His friend Takoshi finally had enough of her attitude and decided to teach the rich bitch a lesson. He stepped forward and went to backhand her. Before Takoshi even knew what was happening though, she'd grabbed a hold of his wrist and twisted, breaking his arm with a sickening crack. She then moved swiftly, kicking another square in his manhood with those damned high-heels of hers before knocking his third friend out cold with a roundhouse kick to the face. As he took a bite of his chocolate bar, he winced as a peanut lodged itself in the gap where his molar used to be before that damned whore knocked it out with her fist. To add insult to injury, she called the cops on them after she'd incapacitated him and his friends. He was the only one able to somehow stagger away before the Tokyo PD got there. Which brought him back to the present, shivering in an alleyway across from the Silky Doll. He'd make her pay. He didn't know how, but he would. Suddenly he saw movement. The door opened and the bitch came out with two other women. One looked like a cute brunette who hadn't been in the city for long, while the other looked like a badass in motorcycle leather. The tough-looking one got on a red motorcycle, put her bike helmet on, and did a small wheelie as she rode out. The stuck-up broad and the brunette then went back inside. The owner locked the door, turned to the other woman with a smile and... His eyes widened as he watched the two women kiss. It was a brief kiss, just a simple peck on the lips, but the way they held hands afterwards as they walked away told him it was far from a friendship kiss. As the lights in the Silky Doll went out, he smiled broadly. He now knew how to make her pay. ------ -Story II- -Outing- Airman First Class Rachel Brown was not having a good week. The young woman arrived at the American Air Force base just outside Mega Tokyo five days ago and found that, while her bags with her military uniforms arrived safe and sound, her luggage with her civilian clothes and lingerie was lost. She'd been wearing the same bra and panties for close to a week now, forced to wash them each night in order to put them on again the next morning. Worse, she was having a harder time with the language than she had at first anticipated, causing her to self-consciously carry around a Japanese phrase book and dictionary with her every time she left the base. To top everything off, her social skills hadn't improved any since before joining the Air Force. She was still shy around others, and it still took her a while to open up to new people. As a result, she had yet to make any new friends in Mega Tokyo. Today, the first leave she'd been given since arriving at Japan, she was planning on taking care of at least one of her problems. She needed bras, panties, and civilian clothes. After getting up the nerve to ask some of the other women at the base, she was directed to a store a short ways away from the base called the Silky Doll. Putting on her best dress-uniform and tying her sandy blonde hair back in a simple ponytail, she headed out in the chill of the January morning. On the Tokyo metro she could feel the stares of everyone looking at her in her military uniform. Self-consciously exiting the subway, she looked once again at the directions she'd been given and began to walk due east. After about ten minutes she came around a corner and finally saw the building. As she started to come up to it however, she frowned when she realized something was wrong. She passed a police car parked in front of the building next to the sidewalk. Coming up to the building, she saw some sort of graphitti spray painted in large Japanese characters on the front store window. As she stared at it, wishing she could read Japanese, a short-haired young Japanese woman exited the building with a bucket of soapy water. She was soon joined by an elderly gentleman with a ponytail. As the two began work scrubbing the graphitti from the glass front of the building, a cop came out of the entrance followed by an elegantly-dressed woman who was clearly not happy. The silver-haired woman's face switched from looking sad to angry as she was talking to the officer, her voice intense. As the cop took down information in his small book, Rachel began to feel uncomfortable and out of place. She was about to leave when the woman turned away from the police officer and noticed her standing there. For a few seconds both she and Rachel just stood there looking at one another silently. Then, the woman smiled as pleasantly as possible under the circumstances. "Ohayo gozaimasu," she said, wishing the American a good morning as behind her the officer walked back to the squad car. Rachel quickly pulled out her phrasebook as she tried to remember the proper response. The silver-haired woman noticed the book and raised an eyebrow. "You speak English?" she asked in a thick Japanese accent that made it sound more like "Engrish." "Oh, um, yes. Do you understand English?" "A little," she answered, "But my speaking is not very good." "Oh, I think you sound fine," Rachel said, noticing the happy look she received for the complement. "Are you open yet?" The woman looked over to the two scrubbing away at the graphitti, then back at Rachel. "Hai. We're open, Miss..." "Rachel Brown," she answered, "And your name is?" "Stingray Sylia-desu. You may call me Sylia." As they went in, Rachel noticed out of the corner of her eye a motorcycle pulling up to the front of the store. Inside, she noticed a young blond who was wearing shorts, leggings, and a jacket over her belly shirt. As the blond noticed Rachel, she looked surprised. She asked Sylia something with an incredulous tone to her voice. Sylia said something back to her that caused her to look down, nod, and go into the back stock room. "Is something wrong?" "No, my friend is thinking I should not be opening today." Sylia said, pointing with her finger at the graphitti in the front window. "Oh. Miss Stingray, if today's a bad day..." "No!" she answered forcefully. As she noticed the look on Rachel's face, she took a deep breath and calmed down. "I'm sorry," she said softly, "But if I closed today, it would mean that they won. Now, what are you looking for?" "Well," the young woman answered hesitantly, "I need some bras, panties, and..." Before Rachel could go any further, the door of the Silky Doll was flung open by an incredibly angry looking woman in a biker outfit. As she waved her arms, pointing at the graphitti and punching her fist into her palm, she looked like she was ready to kill somebody. In the midst of her yelling, she noticed the American. She looked as surprised at seeing Rachel there as the blonde had earlier, and turned to Sylia as she seemed to ask something. Sylia, for her part getting calmer the angrier the other woman got, answered her in a quiet tone. The biker then looked back at the American. "Sumi masen," she muttered before turning away and heading for the back stock room, passing the blond Rachel saw earlier as she was coming out. The blond had a soda in her hand now, and was leaning up with her back against the counter. The main door opened once more, and the short haired woman came in carrying a bucket full of now dirty water. Rachel, who was already feeling very nervous and out of place in the tension-filled atmosphere, watched as the woman started talking with Sylia. The silver-haired store owner said something back as Rachel caught the glint of an engagement ring on the brunette's finger. She then turned back to Rachel. "I am sorry for these... how do you say it... 'Interruptions?'" Sylia explained rather apologetically, "Things are usually not like this. Why don't you just look around and see what you like." Rachel noticed the biker woman coming back into the room with a coffee in her hand, shortly thereafter followed by a teenage boy wearing a headband. "Miss Stingray?" Rachel finally asked, "I hope you don't take offense, but exactly what is written out front? It must be awful if everyone is this upset over it." Sylia's expression was hard to read as she studied the American. Finally, she let out a sigh, "Why not," she finally said defeatedly, "You'll find out one way or another anyways, I'm sure. I don't know the English, but in Japanese the one says, 'rezu' and the other, 'gomora.'" Rachel noticed the pained, angry reactions in the hearers, especially upon hearing the second sign read aloud. The brunette with the short hair started to cry. Sylia pulled her to her shoulder, gently rubbing her hair as Rachel opened her Japanese dictionary. She found the definitions of "rezu" and "gomora," and gasped as the color drain from her face. "Rezu, a derogatory term for a lesbian. Roughly equivalent to the English word dyke." "Gomora, extremely offensive term for a lesbian, comes from "Gomorrah" as in "Sodom and Gomorrah." She now understood everything. "Somebody outed you," she whispered as she looked up from the book back over to Sylia and the woman silently weeping on her shoulder. The biker narrowed her eyes as she glared at Rachel, almost as if she was daring her to try and hurt her friends in front of her. The others likewise seemed prepared to either watch the American leave upon finding out Sylia was a lesbian, or to come to her defense should Rachel say something insulting to her. Instead, the American Airman said the last thing anyone would've expected. "Miss Stingray," Rachel began, looking down at the floor, "do you have an extra bucket and washcloth?" Sylia's look of shock at first alarmed the others. She quickly reassured them, before turning back to her customer, "Why?" she asked. Rachel took a deep breath as she gathered up her courage and looked back at Sylia. "Well, I have the day off anyways. Besides," she added softly as she pointed at herself, "I'm a rezu too." ---Evening--- A group of thugs laughed as they gathered around a garbage can filled with burning wood and paper in an alleyway, their bodies illuminated by the fire and a nearby streetlamp. As the members of the street gang warmed their hands by the fire, one of the members who was missing a molar spoke up. "Ha, ha... did you... did you see the look on her face?" "Yeah... Ha, ha, ha... it was priceless..." "Serves the dirty cunt right!" their leader sneered, "Now maybe she'll pay up!" "So what do we do now, Ken?" a fourth member asked. "Stupid, what do you think?" the leader responded, "Now, we hit her up for money again of course! I'll bet the dirty dyke won't be so high and mighty this time either." "Yeah," the one with the missing molar agreed, adding, "And if she still won't play ball, I got a good look at her girlfriend. Maybe if her slut had an accident..." his voice died off as he and the others heard a thud up on one of the roofs above them, followed by several more, "What the hell was that?" Before anyone had time to answer, something green and moving incredibly fast shot down at them from above, ribbon cutters trailing behind the figure cutting through the top of the nearby street lamp. The green figure landed only seconds before the severed lamp did. As it turned around to look at the street gang, panic ensued. "Shit!" "What the fuck?" "Knight Sabers? I thought they were only interested in boomers!" The green Knight Saber stood between the members of the gang and the end of the alley, effectively cutting off the route as an exit. The group quickly turned, any thought of sticking up to the armored figure as a group quickly set aside as an every man for himself mentality set in. They began running away from her, hoping to somehow make it out the other end of the alley before she could stop them. Those hopes were crushed however when a group of long, razor sharp needles were fired into the ground in front of them. A second Knight Saber, in pink armor, soon landed between them and the other escape route. "Oh God, oh shit..." the youngest gang member started whimpering as the leader of the group, Ken, reached into his coat pocket. It was then that the blue and silver Knight Sabers landed, joining the other two. The four of them began to slowly close in around the group. "Which one of you ass holes is the leader here?" The blue Knight Saber asked. Ken pulled his hand out of his pocket, revealing a hand gun. He aimed it at the Knight Saber, only to have the silver one extend a sword and, with one quick movement, slice the end of the gun off. She then grabbed him by the shirt collar and lifted him off the ground one handed. "Word on the streets is you and your friends are trying to shake down a woman in the other end of the city," she growled, not even trying to mask her rage. "You know the one we're talking about," the green Knight Saber broke in, "runs a women's clothing store, likes to wear large bows in the back of her hair." "Hey, it wasn't our idea, man!" One of the gang members cried, shaking all over from fear, "It was Ken there," he shouted as he pointed as the frightened man still dangling above the ground by his shirt collar, "He made us do it! We never wanted to spray paint anything..." "Shut up!" The blue Knight Saber yelled, punching a hole in the wall behind the terror stricken goon. "You see," the silver Knight Saber hissed as she pulled Ken's face up to her armored faceplate, "the owner of that store has some powerful friends. Friends like us." "And we have better things to do with our time than waste it pummeling you bone heads," the pink one chimed in. "So, if I were you, and if I wanted to see tomorrow, I'd back off and leave her and her friends alone. In fact," she added as she held up a finger like a teacher giving a naughty pupil a lecture, "While you're at it, you might want to give up crime altogether. Understand?" "Uh... Uh... Understood." Ken finally managed to get out. The silver Knight Saber dropped him to the ground, and the four of them then launched themselves into the night sky, leaving the badly shaken street gang alone in the darkened alley. ---The Next Day--- Rachel had given up a few hours ago on getting the paint out from under her fingernails. She still couldn't believe someone would be mean enough to do that to the nice lady and her partner she met yesterday. With a blush she also realized she couldn't believe how much she'd revealed about herself yesterday as she talked to the Sylia while they both worked side-by-side scrubbing away with the others at the filthy words left on the storefront. She was normally so shy and introverted, yet somehow Sylia's manner put her at ease. She'd talked about her childhood, leaving home at seventeen, her first date with a girl, and how she joined the Air Force last year. She kept worrying about boring the store owner. After all, she had quite a refined air about her, an aura of prim elegance and sophistication. Instead of being put off by her however, Sylia showed a genuine interest in her ramblings. The way she looked at her when she talked, it was like Rachel was the only one there; she never got the feeling that she was being humored or patronized. With her permission, Sylia turned every so often to her lover and translated what she was saying into Japanese. Looking back, Rachel found the whole experience very cathartic. It was true, she guessed; it really was sometimes easier to open up to strangers. It took nearly three hours of scrubbing, but they finally managed to get the disgusting graphitti off the windows. Sylia had tried to give Rachel something for helping her and her friends. She declined of course, saying something cornball about the sisterhood sticking together. It wasn't until she got back to her apartment at the base that she realized with annoyance that she forgot to get the clothes and lingerie she needed. As she was about to fix herself a can of chicken soup, her phone rang. "Hello?" "Miss Brown," a male voice said, "You have some visitors, a Miss Stingray and Miss Yamazaki. Will you vouch for them so I can allow them onto the base?" "Miss Stingray?" Rachel asked in surprise, "Yes, yes of course. I'll vouch for them," she said happily. A few minutes later, she heard a knock at her door. She quickly opened it and saw Sylia and her partner both smiling back at her. As they bowed in greeting to her, she noticed that the store owner was carrying a large shopping bag, while the brunette with her held onto a large covered bowl. "Komban wa," Sylia said warmly, "After you left yesterday, I remembered you needed some clothes. You wouldn't take any money, so I thought I'd just repay you another way." "Oh, thank you." Rachel gasped, a bit overwhelmed at the gesture, "But you didn't have to do this..." "Yes, but how do you say, 'the sisterhood sticks together.'" They both laughed at that. Sylia's partner reminded her of something, and Sylia then turned back to Rachel. "We also brought dinner for you. Unless you had other plans..." she said as she noticed the can of "Chicken and Stars" the American was about to open sitting on the counter. "No, no other plans," Rachel quickly answered, adding, "Thank you very much. Here, the table's right there. Let me get you some seats and plates. By the way," she said hesitantly, "I'm terrible with names. What's your partner's name again? Lydia-san?" "Linna," the young lady in question corrected, "Yamasaki Linna-desu." "Linna-san? Okay, I can remember that. What did you want to drink with dinner? I've got some local beer..." "No, no beer." Sylia answered a bit forcefully, adding, "I'm an alcoholic." "Oh, I'm sorry. Do you like diet soda?" "Diet soda sounds good." Sylia said, once again relaxing. Over dinner, they talked about recent events in the news, annoying customers, lecherous managers, and sadistic Air Force officers. Linna and Rachel argued good naturedly over who was worse, Linna's boomer supervisor or Rachel's drill sergeant in boot camp, with Sylia acting as translator. After dinner (and an after-dinner coffee), Sylia and Linna took their leave, promising to stay in touch with the young Airman First Class. As Rachel closed the door behind them, she smiled. Maybe Japan wasn't going to be so bad after all. ---The End--- End Notes: Hopefully I was able to keep this from becoming too much of a Mary Sue story :P Derogatory terminology came from the book Japanese Street Slang by Peter Constantine. Ohayo gozaimasu- Good morning Sumi masen- Sorry Komban wa- Good evening
Back to A Few Steps More Index - Back to Bubblegum Crisis Shoujo-Ai Fanfiction